But then the hours had passed; and the antidote Sorus gave him had run out; and he’d remained human. And then his sanity had cracked. The knowledge of his own weakness had been more than he could bear.
The death he named for himself was a form of restitution.
Mikka understood. She would have been more than willing to die herself if anyone had offered her a chance to repair the harm she’d done Ciro by taking him aboard Captain’s Fancy; introducing him to Nick.
For that reason, when Morn and Angus had asked her to run Trumpet’s command board, she’d agreed. Who could take her place? Angus, Morn, and Davies all had other parts to play. And no one else knew the gap scout as well as she did.
For the same reason, she’d gone to sickbay as soon as she reached Trumpet and keyed the systems to dispense every stimulant available: stim and hype; caffeine tablets; complex pseudoendorphin supplements. Her weakness was as great as Ciro’s. She’d run out of strength and courage: her mortality was too heavy to lift without drugs. Everything Angus had in mind for himself and Ciro, for Davies and Vector, for the command module and Trumpet, would be wasted if she failed to stay alert.
Because she understood so well, she was going to help her brother kill himself.
Like Angus, he’d already put on his EVA suit, although they were in no hurry; the trip to Calm Horizons would give them plenty of time. Only his head remained exposed: he’d left his helmet beside Angus’ on the second’s g-seat while he wandered around the bridge, whistling softly to himself. Mikka recognized the tune—a lullaby familiar from her childhood, when her mother was still alive to sing to her.
The sound made her want to wail.
For as long as she could, she ran diagnostic and parameter checks on the gap scout, making sure that Angus’ repairs were stable; that thrust was ready for cold ignition; that passive scan was adequate to give her the information she would need; that the energy cells still held enough power to handle the load of the dispersion field generator. Unfortunately no amount of hype and stim could relieve her loss. After a while her concentration frayed into anguish.
Ciro’s whistling was going to drive her mad.
The next time he passed between her and the display screens, she snapped, “Do you have to do that?”
Inwardly she cringed at her unnecessary harshness. But his reaction hurt her more.
He stopped in front of her, faced her with sudden terror in his eyes and a bland, dissociated smile on his mouth. “No, I don’t.” His voice sounded as bleak as hard vacuum. The idea of singularity grenades had already sucked him away. And yet he offered softly, earnestly, “I won’t do it if you tell me not to.”
In dismay she saw that he was offering her the greatest and most terrible gift he could imagine: the gift of his life; of refusing his part in Angus’ plans.
I won’t do it—
At once Angus wheeled like a burst of flame on the boy. He may have wanted to shout in rage. You what? he might have protested. You little shit, we’re counting on you! But he must have seen the death in Mikka’s gaze. He caught himself in time; clamped his teeth shut.
—if you tell me not to.
She couldn’t bear it.
They had alternatives. They could trade places. She could teach him how to initiate cold ignition. How to use the dispersion field. What to look for on scan. She could try to do his job for him. But the cost would be too high for both of them.
“Never mind,” she told him. She felt her heart tearing like a sheet of hardcopy; but he needed this gift from her more than she needed his. “You know what you have to do. That’s good enough for me.”
Roughly Angus turned away as if he wanted to hide his relief.
By degrees the terror faded from Ciro’s eyes. After a moment he began to whistle again; resumed wandering the bridge.
He intended to die. The prospect didn’t scare him at all.
KOINA
From her seat near Cleatus Fane, she moved through the crowded tension of the GCES Members and their aides toward the dais where Maxim Igensard presided on the strength of his position as Sen Abdullah’s proxy.
The Special Counsel had demanded, I have some questions I want to ask you. Questions about Warden Dios and Calm Horizons. About Trumpet and treason. But Holt Fasner’s FEA had intervened at once. You don’t have to submit to this, he’d assured her. I’ll answer his questions. The UMC is responsible for the UMCP in any case.
Both Maxim and Cleatus must have been accustomed to men like the late Godsen Frik—men for whom Protocol meant ambition and manipulation, not honesty. Now, in their separate ways, for their separate reasons, they may have begun to suspect that Warden’s actions had brought them to the brink of disaster. But neither of them knew Koina. They had no idea what they were dealing with.
She’d ignored Fane’s efforts to stop her. Hiding her trepidation behind a mask of bland professional confidence, she’d risen to her feet and told Maxim, I’m ready, Special Counsel.
To some extent, she accepted the perilous burden of carrying out Warden’s orders precisely because Cleatus Fane had warned her against doing so. He was afraid of her: the strain on his face made that obvious. Through his PCR link to UMCHO—and Holt Fasner’s informants in UMCPHQ—he probably knew as much as she did about what was happening in space. Like Holt, he must at last have seen that events were moving in directions the Dragon hadn’t anticipated and couldn’t control. Perhaps he was starting to guess just how much damage she’d been sent here to do.
The nature of his loyalties helped her be sure of her own. His desire to silence her confirmed her determination to speak.
The UMC is responsible for the UMCP.
If it was possible, she intended to rub his nose—and Fasner’s as well—in that responsibility.
“Director Hannish,” he hissed after her; but she didn’t turn her head.
Clearly the Special Counsel didn’t want her to join him on the dais. No doubt he preferred to thunder his accusations at her from above; overwhelm her with the sheer stature of his righteous indignation. I’ve been accumulating evidence of the most malign kinds of malfeasance and corruption. As soon as she left her seat, he raised his hands in a frustrated attempt to halt her.
“That isn’t necessary, Director,” he snapped irritably. “We can all hear you from there.”
For the moment she ignored him as she’d ignored Cleatus. She had much to say: questions to answer; risks to take; fears to face. But her first priority was to weaken Maxim’s grip on the chamber, if she could. Despite the objections and incredulity of Members like Tel Burnish, Blaine Manse, and Sixten Vertigus, Maxim had already half convinced the Council that Warden was guilty of treason. And in a sense he was right: Calm Horizons was here, with her super-light proton gun fixed on Suka Bator, as a direct result of Warden’s decisions and actions. Before Koina did anything else, she needed to defuse the emotional force of the Special Counsel’s accusations.
She made her way up to the dais in order to claim as much stature as he had.
Physically that was easy: she was a good fifteen cm taller. But the ominous intensity he radiated, the sense of critical mass he conveyed, made him seem larger. He gave the impression that there was no limit to how far he might expand.
On the surface, she had nothing to oppose him with except her beauty, her feigned calm—and her determination to tell the truth. But she also possessed a certain low cunning which she’d learned from Godsen Frik. His restless machinations had taught her a great deal.
As she joined him at the podium, Maxim turned to Abrim Len as if her presence were a point of order. “President Len?”
Len had seated himself at the back of the dais while Maxim had the floor. He didn’t rise to Maxim’s demand; but he lifted his head with a cornered glitter in his eyes. “You asked her to speak, Special Counsel.” His tone carried more resolution than Koina had expected from him. “If you want her to answer your questions, she might as well stand up here where we can all see he
r.”
Before Igensard could reply, Captain Vertigus put in sharply, “Give her the floor, Maxim.” The old Senior Member had his own reasons for outrage. As one of the UMCP’s staunchest supporters, he must have been profoundly shaken by Maxim’s allegations. “We already know what your questions are. Her answers are what matter now.”
From the other side of the room, Punjat Silat offered, “For what my poor opinion may be worth, I concur.” It was the first time Koina had heard the Senior Member for the Combined Asian Islands and Peninsulas speak. Apparently the drug he’d taken a short time ago had calmed his unsteady heart, at least for the present. Like his illness, his diffidence seemed to give him dignity. “As spokeswoman for the UMCP—and, by extension, for Warden Dios himself—her response to these troubling charges is of paramount importance.”
Maxim acceded gracelessly. Scowling, he began, “In that case, Director Hannish—”
Koina faced him with a cool smile. “A moment, please, Special Counsel. It’s my job as UMCP Director of Protocol to answer your questions, and I’ll do it. But first—”
She shifted her attention to the Members and aides around the dais. At once her knees started trembling again. Every eye in the room clung to her urgently. Several men and women were sweating profusely, as if the air-processing had broken down. Others looked dangerously pale.
As smoothly as she could, Koina rested a hand on the podium for support.
“Because I am the UMCP Director of Protocol,” she stated as if she were in no danger, “my dedicated channel to UMCPHQ Center carries more information than the general downlink.” She nodded toward her communications techs. “Just now I received some news which isn’t publicly available yet.
“I think you should know that Punisher has come home.”
Someone—Tel Burnish?—breathed fervently, “Good.”
No one else spoke.
“Apparently,” Koina went on, “her mission to ‘retrieve’ Trumpet’s people—if that’s the right word for it—was successful.” Ensign Morn Hyland was in command of the cruiser. “She’s joined our cordon of ships around Calm Horizons.”
Deliberately she made no mention of Morn. She wasn’t ready to go that far. She had no idea what Morn’s improbable authority aboard Punisher might signify. And she wanted to mislead Cleatus Fane. If he’d already received the same information from HO, he might think that she suppressed Morn’s name in order to protect the Dragon; that he and his master could trust her after all.
While Maxim fumed at the delay, Koina continued, “You all know that when Director Dios left UMCPHQ for Calm Horizons he named DA Director Hashi Lebwohl as acting director in his absence. No doubt Special Counsel Igensard will view Director Lebwohl’s appointment in the worst possible light”—subtly she tried to weaken the ground under Maxim’s feet—“but the simple fact is that at the time he was the highest-ranking UMCP officer on station. He became acting director by the plain logic of the chain of command.
“However, ED Director Min Donner has now returned aboard Punisher. Therefore Director Lebwohl has stepped down as acting director, and Director Donner has assumed those duties.”
Although her manner was grave, Koina put a smile into her voice. “Frankly, I consider this good news. I respect Director Lebwohl more than the Special Counsel does, but after Warden Dios I can think of no one I would rather have command our defense than Min Donner.”
A rustle of approval crossed the chamber. Her ploy was working. Warden and Hashi may have been suspect, but Min’s reputation held firm. Even Maxim had admitted as much.
Unfortunately Koina’s knees refused to stop trembling. Her real work was still ahead of her.
“If this session had allowed you time to study the downlink,” she informed the Members, “you would already be aware of at least one step Director Donner has taken for our protection. She’s ordered the shutdown of our system-wide scan net. This deprives Calm Horizons of a valuable source of data.”
Sen Abdullah interrupted her in a spasm of indignation. “Blinded us?” he protested. “What is that supposed to accomplish?”
Koina had no military experience: she was out of her depth on such subjects. Nevertheless she retorted sternly, “Calm Horizons has been blinded, Senior Member—at least in part. We haven’t. Our ships can still share all the data they need with each other.
“Of course, the defensive’s scan is more than adequate to maintain her proton cannon fix on us. That goes without saying. But she can no longer see everything in our solar system. This gives our own ships greater flexibility. It may improve their effectiveness.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of it,” Sixten muttered, “but it’s probably worth a try. Hell, anything’s worth trying.”
Thank you, Koina told him silently. When she’d spoken to him from her shuttle earlier, she’d asked him for help with her decisions. At first he’d appeared to refuse her appeal. You’re a big girl, Koina. But then he’d given her more assistance than she’d ever expected.
With the Council and Cleatus Fane watching her, however, she couldn’t afford to admit aloud how much she was in the old captain’s debt. Instead she turned to look at Maxim.
“I’m ready now, Special Counsel.” As ready as she would ever be without evidence. To some extent she’d succeeded at disrupting Igensard’s sway. There was nothing left for her to do except answer his questions, defy the FEA, and pray that some kind of corroboration arrived in time to save Warden’s hopes. “Where do you want to start?”
With her smile and her collegial manner, she made it as difficult as she could for him to treat her like an opponent.
But his particular hostility was impervious to her charm. Apparently her interference with the role he’d arranged for himself confirmed her status as his enemy. The concentration in his gaze sharpened and swelled. He no longer fumed. Unlike a number of the people around him, he seemed proof against sweat. In a flash of insight, Koina guessed that any personal irritation he may have felt was subsumed by a larger ambition: to best her in front of the assembled Council; to wrest what he wanted from her despite her resistance.
To prove himself against her—
She had no idea what he wished to prove. Or to whom he wished to prove it. But she recognized the peril.
Maxim Igensard would stop at nothing.
“Unfortunately, Director Hannish, I have so many questions that I hardly know which one to ask first.” He spoke to her, but he didn’t look at her: he faced the Members—and Cleatus Fane. His stare seemed to quarter the room as if he were searching for weakness. “As I’ve already suggested, my investigation into the Angus Thermopyle case, and my concerns about what President Len calls ‘the immediate crisis,’ have given me an almost global impression of corruption and wrongdoing. All of it must be accounted for, in one way or another.”
“I agree completely,” Koina put in earnestly. Maxim’s voice wasn’t particularly high or shrill, but it had a quality which reminded her of a sonic cutter. The longer he spoke, the more his tone abraded her nerves. Was the man incapable of making a point without all this self-righteousness?
“That’s admirable, Director,” he rasped in vexation. He didn’t like being interrupted. “I hope you mean it.
“Since we must start somewhere,” he resumed, “let me remind you of a statement you made moments ago. You said that Punisher’s ‘mission to “retrieve” Trumpet’s people was successful.’ As you confessed yourself, ‘retrieve’ is an interesting choice of words. You didn’t say ‘capture,’ which is a duty we might reasonably expect of a UMCP cruiser. After all, Trumpet is a UMCP gap scout supposedly stolen by a convicted illegal and his accomplice. And you didn’t say ‘rescue,’ which might well be Punisher’s appropriate response when a human ship is hunted by the Amnion.
“Director Hannish, what’s so special about Angus Thermopyle and Milos Taverner that they have to be ‘retrieved’ instead of ‘arrested’ or ‘saved’? Maybe if you can tell us that we’ll begin to unde
rstand what both Punisher and Trumpet were doing in the Massif-5 system.”
Koina met his opening with her best professional detachment. “A fair question, Special Counsel.” Her tone betrayed none of the quivering in her legs. “I’ll try to give you a fair answer.”
But if he didn’t consider it necessary to look at her when he spoke, she saw no reason to reply as if her answer were directed at him. Leaning only slightly on the podium, she gazed out at the strained faces around her.
“However, I feel I should first explain that I was extensively briefed for this session. In one form or another Director Dios and I have discussed most of the issues which now confront the Council. He gave me explicit orders to answer the Special Counsel’s questions as accurately as I can.”
It was vital for the Members to understand that Warden had authorized everything she would reveal; that he’d instructed her to damn him.
“Bear with me, please. This gets complicated.”
She paused as if to collect her thoughts; but in fact she was mustering her courage for a plunge which might carry humankind to disaster. Then she announced more formally, “When Director Dios and Director Lebwohl addressed the Council by video conference a few days ago, they did not tell you the truth about Angus Thermopyle, Milos Taverner, and Trumpet.”
At her side she felt Maxim expand with vindication.
“Personally, I deplore this,” she said. “Professionally, I grant that it may have been necessary.” Necessary to advance Warden’s struggle against Holt Fasner; to expose Fasner’s responsibility for the UMCP’s crimes. “Putting the matter crudely, Captain Thermopyle was being sent on a dangerous mission, and he needed ‘cover.’ Director Dios and Director Lebwohl lied to you in order to protect that mission. Any hint of the truth would have been fatal.”
This Day All Gods Die Page 49
