This Day All Gods Die

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  “Have you forgotten about the Preempt Act? Don’t you understand why they framed me? Or why they let Nick have you?”

  Abruptly Dolph rumbled, “I can’t stand any more insults, Min.” He didn’t appear to be shouting, but his voice filled the bridge like a rockfall. “I know he can kill me with both fists rammed up his ass. I don’t care. If he doesn’t watch his mouth, I’m going to remove it for him. At the neck.”

  Without any sign of haste, as if Calm Horizons were problem she could postpone indefinitely, Min intervened.

  “Ensign Hyland, we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” she put in quietly. “We aren’t ready to discuss rescuing anybody.We don’t know what we’re up against. And we have more than one crisis to tackle. Let’s do this a step at a time, if we can.

  “Captain Thermopyle”—a subtle hardening inflected her tone—“I’m asking you nicely. Take it down a couple of notches.”

  Angus’ arms folded a refusal across his chest. He didn’t so much as glance at Min: his attention was fixed like a cutting laser on Morn.

  Morn’s command may have been a joke, but she didn’t shirk it. She’d come too far to let her own frailties stop her. She wasn’t Min; couldn’t match Min’s authority. Like Dolph, however, she hated Angus’ insults. In one form or another she’d loathed him ever since he’d retrieved her from Starmaster’s wreckage. And yet she’d helped him escape the bondage of his priority-codes. She was dependent on him for everything—

  “Listen to me, Angus,” she demanded harshly. “You keep telling me to trust you. Now it’s my turn.

  “I did not ask you to rescue Director Dios. If you don’t want to do it, I can’t force you—and I won’t try.” She made that promise even though she suspected that she hadn’t pushed her strange hold over him anywhere near its breaking point. “But if you know how, I need to hear it.”

  He ducked his head as if he were flinching; then jerked his chin up again. The muscles along his jaw bunched like iron. A smear of rage or grief blurred his yellow gaze.

  In a small, almost childlike voice, he whispered, “Fuck you, Morn.” Then he turned away as if he were abandoning her; stamped across Punisher’s deceleration g until he reached a vacant g-seat beside Ciro, and flung himself into it.

  With both hands he covered his face as if he couldn’t bear to meet Morn’s mute stare.

  Fuck you, she echoed to herself. That was nothing new. How often had he already done it? How often had she allowed—no, seduced, encouraged—Nick Succorso to use her?

  Bitterly she swung the command station toward Min.

  “This is your chance, Director Donner,” she pronounced like acid. “If Angus doesn’t back me up, I can’t hold the bridge.”

  Captain Ubikwe might have acted on the idea without hesitation; but Min dismissed it with a shrug. “I made a deal with you. I’ll stand by it.”

  Even though she knew who’d killed Starmaster—Without question Min’s compromised position aboard the cruiser gave her something she craved; an advantage she couldn’t get in any other way.

  “But there’s something I want to know,” she added promptly. “Before I start dealing with Center.

  “What does this ‘Marc Vestabule’ have to do with you?”

  Morn opened her mouth to reply, then found she didn’t know where to begin. Min’s attitude confused her: her own relief got in her way. And she had too many other things to think about.

  I think we should try to rescue him.

  Don’t you understand why they framed me?

  Davies could have answered Min’s question; but he was as distracted as Morn. He had too much at stake. Calm Horizons wanted him so badly that she’d taken the fatal risk of coming here—

  With an unspoken appeal in her eyes, Morn referred the subject to Vector.

  He took the hint quickly. “Nothing, Director Donner.” Despite his bafflement he seemed to see Morn’s needs more clearly than she did herself. “I mean nothing personal. We’ve met him a couple of times, that’s all.

  “He was on Enablement. We went there so Morn could have her baby. He handled the ‘negotiations’ after the Amnion decided they wanted to keep Davies. In exchange he gave us components to repair our gap drive.

  “Then he showed up on Billingate. He must have arrived on—what was that other ship?”—the name came to him almost at once—“Tranquil Hegemony. He still had the job of demanding Davies.

  “An Amnion shuttle got off Thanatos Minor before the installation blew up. He must have been aboard. Then I guess Calm Horizons picked him up.” Vector shrugged. “Or Soar did.”

  The mention of Soar seemed to catch Davies’ attention. As Morn watched, he made a visible effort to put his anger at Angus aside; concentrate on what was being said.

  “Soar?” Captain Ubikwe pursued heavily. “You mean the ship that died fighting for you outside the asteroid swarm?”

  Vector nodded. “She destroyed Deaner Beckmann’s lab.She tried to kill us in the swarm. But after that—” Shadows darkened his eyes like memories of what was done to Ciro. “I guess Captain Chatelaine changed her mind,” he finished.

  Abruptly Min aimed a sharp stare at Morn. “Soar used to be called Gutbuster. Did you know that?”

  Morn hadn’t mentioned Gutbuster’s name when she’d talked about Soar earlier. Now she winced as if Min had touched an old wound. The ED director continued to surprise her. How had Min known about Gutbuster? And why did she want to discuss Soar’s past here?

  “Nick told us,” Morn admitted thinly. “She’s the same ship that killed my mother.”

  As if she were pronouncing judgment—or asking forgiveness—Min stated, “She did a lot of harm. But she made restitution.”

  Like Min herself? Like Warden Dios?

  Davies shook his head. “She did more than that,” he countered in a low, tense voice. “She could have helped Calm Horizons kill us. She probably should have. She needed an antidote to stay human. But she didn’t.”

  At one time he’d been so determined to destroy Soar that he hadn’t been able to think about anything else; understand what he was doing. But events had forced him to reconsider his reaction.

  “Instead I think she saved her soul.”

  Morn gave her son a look of gratitude. Perhaps she’d misjudged him: perhaps his reasons for wanting to rescue Warden were closer to hers than she’d imagined. He’d reminded her that Sorus had found a better answer. And that there were many worse fates than death—

  At Morn’s side Vector nodded sadly. Min assented with her stern gaze. In his g-seat against the bulkhead, Ciro leaned over and whispered something to Angus.

  Under his breath Dolph muttered, “It still scares me. Until you told us, I didn’t know they had mutagens like that.”

  “Fucking right they have them,” Angus growled. “They’re probably giving one to your Director Dios right now.”

  A sudden pall covered the bridge. “Jesus!” Captain Ubikwe croaked. One of his duty officers groaned aloud; Morn didn’t see who. Davies flinched as if he’d been burned: his face closed like a fist. Min’s brows pulled into a hard frown.

  Softly Vector urged, “I don’t think we have much time, Morn.”

  Time? There was no time. They’re probably giving one—Warden Dios might face the same plight which had broken Ciro. I think we should try—

  Have you forgotten about the Preempt Act?

  With an effort of will she straightened her back; put on authority as if she’d earned it. “Vector’s right, Director Donner.” Self-coercion rasped in her voice. “We’re running out of time.

  “Tell me about the Preempt Act.”

  She wanted to hear Min confirm the betrayal Angus had explained to her aboard Trumpet. And she wanted Davies to know what had been done to his father.

  Davies moved closer to her. “Director Lebwohl mentioned a ‘Preempt Act.’ I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  Tension at the corners of Min’s eyes hinted at pain; but she didn’t turn
away. Holding Morn’s gaze, she asked over her shoulder, “Communications, how many dishes do we have available?”

  “Depends on who we’re sending to, Director,” Cray answered.

  “UMCPHQ,” Min replied. “UMCHO. Suka Bator.”

  Cray consulted her readouts. “Sorry, Director. Two tight-beam transmissions are all we can manage from this attitude. If you want to reach more than that, we’ll have to use general broadcast. Or relay it through Center.” She paused, then added, “Unless you’re willing to turn our blind side on that Amnioni.”

  “All right.” Min still faced Morn. “Keep one on UMCPHQ. I need to talk to Center. Aim the other at Suka Bator. When I get a chance, I want to find out what’s happening down there.

  “If Fasner has to reach me, he can do it through Center.”

  Without transition she said to Morn, “I’ll tell you about the Preempt Act. Since we’re on the subject of restitution.” A flick of her eyes referred to Captain Ubikwe. “You haven’t heard about this, Dolph. You aren’t going to like it.”

  He grimaced. “I haven’t liked anything so far. Why should this be different?”

  Hard knots swelled at the corners of Davies’ jaw.

  Min aimed her frown like a challenge at Morn. Her empty hands clenched and opened at her sides as if she were groping for weapons. Her tone was hard, incisive—a chisel she used to cut down images of herself.

  “The GCES passed the Preempt Act a few months ago. It gives the UMCP jurisdiction over local Security anywhere in human space. Holt Fasner has been trying to get legislation like that enacted for years. Finally he succeeded.

  “He succeeded because we made the Members think local Security—specifically Com-Mine Security—couldn’t be trusted. We used Angus for that. Between the two of them, Nick and Milos Taverner framed him for stealing supplies. It was obvious he must have had inside help. That crime couldn’t have happened any other way. So there had to be a traitor in Security.

  “Well, there was a traitor,” Min stated brutally. “But he wasn’t working with Angus. He was working for us. Nick and Milos got their orders from Hashi. Warden issued those orders, but they came directly from Holt Fasner.”

  The ED director ignored Morn’s flinch of pain, Dolph’s gathering outrage, Davies’ desperate look of betrayal. She paid no attention to the tight consternation of the duty officers, or to Angus’ fierce, wounded grin. “We let Nick have you,” she told Morn like an act of violence, “because that was part of the deal. Part of what we paid him to do jobs for us. He wanted the satisfaction of stealing Angus’ woman.”

  Then she allowed herself a stiff shrug. “Now Fasner needs you dead,” she finished, “because you can testify Angus didn’t commit that particular crime. I assume that’s why we sent Nick those priority-codes. We could make another deal with him. He probably would have been delighted to kill you all.”

  A stunned silence filled the bridge. The ship muttered and sighed to herself as servos hummed, blips and sensors chirped, scrubbers exhaled. Punisher’s deceleration roared in the background. But no one made a sound.

  Pressure rose in Morn’s chest like the approach of a gale. Deep inside her, voices which might have belonged to her parents wailed out their abandonment like the damned.

  Angus had told her the truth.

  That was part of the deal.

  There was a traitor. But he wasn’t working with Angus.

  Now Fasner—

  Everyone in her family had sworn their lives and honor to people who did such things.

  Captain Ubikwe was the first to recover speech. “Let me get this straight.” He scrubbed his palms over his eyes like a man trying to clear away a film of despair. As he found words, his dark rumble became a snarl of protest. “You gave her to a man like this Succorso so he would help you betray Com-Mine Security?

  “My God, Min! That’s unconscionable! It’s treason. I should haul you up on charges—I should arrest you right now!”

  Min didn’t glance at him. “You should,” she agreed. Her strict gaze was fixed on Morn as if no one else mattered. “But you won’t.”

  “Why won’t I?” he demanded hotly; dangerously.

  “Because you know it’s not that simple,” she told him; told Morn. “And because you know dealing with Calm Horizons takes precedence. If we survive, you’ll have plenty of time to ruin my reputation, destroy my career.” A mirthless smile twisted her mouth. “Who knows? Maybe you can even get me executed.”

  Davies had fumed with tension while Dolph spoke. Now he brandished his fists like an echo of Angus’ furious rejection.

  “I don’t care what he knows.” His voice was a constricted cry. “I don’t care whether you think it’s simple or not. Did you have any idea what you were doing to her?”

  At last Min let Morn go; turned to face her son.

  “We didn’t hear about it until later.” Commandments lined her face. She was determined to shirk nothing. “Until Hashi interrogated Angus. But we knew his reputation. And we knew Nick. We could guess what it cost her.”

  Davies was close to tears. “And you went along with it?”

  “Yes, I went along with it,” Min rasped. “I was given orders, and I carried them out. I got them from a man I trust.”

  “That’s not good enough!” he yelled at her.

  Her self-discipline didn’t slip. “Yes, it is,” she answered firmly. After a moment she added, “I still trust him. More than ever. He’s earned it.”

  “I’ll tell you what he’s earned,” Angus growled across the bridge. “He’s earned exactly what’s happening to him right now.”

  Aboard Calm Horizons. A mutagen like the one Sorus had forced on Ciro—

  “Director,” Cray put in raggedly, “Center is starting to sound frantic. They really need to talk to you.”

  “Wait.” Morn held up her hand before Min could move. She had the authority she needed now: the ED director’s admission gave her that. But when Min paused like an obedient subordinate, Morn didn’t attack or castigate her. Morn had other questions to ask—questions which were more urgent than outrage.

  “You said we were on the subject of restitution. What restitution?”

  Slowly Min’s shoulders lifted as if Morn had taken a burden off her back. “Think about it,” she said quietly. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Without hesitation she moved toward the communications console. As soon as she reached it she accepted a PCR from Cray and screwed it into her ear; adjusted a throat pickup beside her larynx; announced herself to UMCPHQ Center. When Center replied, she assumed her duties as Acting Director of the UMCP.

  Abruptly Dolph slapped the back of the command g-seat like a man whose need to hit something had become more than he could bear. “I never thought I would say this, Ensign Hyland,” he drawled, “but I’m glad you’re in command. If I had to think this through, I would give myself an aneurysm.”

  At once he pushed his heavy frame toward targ. Peering down at Mikka, he observed almost gently, “You look exhausted. And I need something to do. Why don’t you let me take a turn?”

  Mikka raised her head. A smear of prostration she couldn’t blink away half blinded her. Hoarse with fatigue and concentration, she countered, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

  Captain Ubikwe scowled lugubriously. “You people amaze me,” he remarked to no one in particular. “You’ve all been taking courtesy lessons from Angus.”

  Shoving his hands into the pockets of his shipsuit, he wandered back to his g-seat against the bulkhead and sat down.

  As soon as Dolph left, Davies crowded closer to Morn’s console. Distress congested his features: he’d been hit by too many shocks at once. “Vector’s right,” he breathed tensely. “We’re running out of time. We can’t let them get away with this. Framing Angus. Selling you. What’re we going to do?”

  She might have replied, What we came for. Talk to the Council. Rescue Warden Dios. Stop Calm Horizons. But she wasn’t ready to say those things
aloud. She didn’t know how to accomplish any of them. And the idea of restitution had taken hold of her: she needed a chance to gauge its implications.

  “At the moment,” she announced slowly, “I’m waiting for Director Dios to tell us what he thinks we should do. As far as I can see, he created this mess. Maybe he knows how to get us all out of it.”

  Min didn’t pause in her rapid exchange with Center; but she flashed a quick gaze at Morn—a brief, hard glance like a look of pride.

  DAVIES

  He paced the cruiser’s bridge. He couldn’t help himself: his exaggerated metabolism drove him. An acute dread of Calm Horizons and Marc Vestabule ate at his nerves. And his heart hurt with a sense of chagrin so profound that it was almost metaphysical. Frustration swarmed through him as if his skin held a hive of angry wasps. His throat ached from yelling at Min.

  Did you have any idea what you were doing to her?

  As recently as two or three days ago, he would have told himself that Morn was making him crazy with her delays and hesitations, her conflicted priorities; her scruples. But now he knew better. His distress was entirely his own: painful, intimate, and unanswerable.

  That’s not good enough!

  In every effective sense he was a UMCP ensign—born and bred to the job. All his instincts cried out for the work the UMCP should do. Defend Earth. Destroy Calm Horizons. Protect human space.

  But Min Donner had made him ashamed to be a cop. He didn’t know how to excuse the crime of framing Angus in order to make Holt Fasner stronger.

  She still trusted Warden Dios. Davies no longer trusted anyone except his mother.

  I think we should try to rescue him.

  That made sense to him. He wanted to fight. God, he needed to fight. Calm Horizons had come for him: no one else. The warship had come here for no other purpose than to reclaim possession of him. The Amnion intended to use him against his entire species. If he had to he would kill himself to stop them.