This Day All Gods Die

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  Vivid consternation roiled the chamber. Someone rasped, “Fatal how?” Sigurd Carsin pronounced, “That’s bullshit.” Other Members swore, muttered; consulted with their aides. But Blaine Manse’s voice carried over the protests and indignation.

  Rising from her seat, she demanded, “Was anything we heard during that conference true? What about Director Lebwohl’s statement that you gave one of your ensigns—wasn’t her name Morn Hyland?—to a DA agent so he could use her in some kind of covert operation against Thanatos Minor?”

  Usually the Member for Betelgeuse Primary affected a bantering detachment from every subject except sex; but now an almost sensual anger throbbed in her tone.

  “Director Lebwohl said something about faking an antimutagen for his agent to sell. And letting the agent have poor Morn Hyland so he could save himself by selling her if he got caught in his own trap.”

  Confronting Koina, Blaine wore her sexuality like an accusation. She may have guessed that Morn had been sold to Nick rather than given to him to sell elsewhere.

  Hashi had said more. He’d told the Council, Ensign Hyland was irretrievably compromised. We believe Captain Thermopyle’s vileness toward her beggars description. In our opinion no hospital or therapy can restore her.

  Therefore we elected to make use of her in another way.

  That was the truth; but it disguised more lies. More harm.

  “Member Manse—” Koina cleared her throat. “I’ll answer you. I’ll tell you all I know about it. But, as I say, the things I need to explain are complicated. It’ll be easier to keep them straight if I take them in a different order.”

  For a moment the Member for Betelgeuse Primary held Koina’s gaze. Then, apparently—woman to woman—she decided to trust Koina. Pouting her frustration, she resumed her seat.

  Under her breath, Koina murmured a soft thank-you. At once, however, she widened her attention to the rest of the Council. She didn’t want to give Maxim room to assert himself again.

  Clearly she announced, “The truth about Captain Thermopyle’s ‘escape’ from UMCPHQ is this. After his conviction for crimes against Com-Mine Station, he was reqqed by Data Acquisition and made into a cyborg.” A stirring of surprise crossed the room; but she didn’t pause. “The process is called ‘welding.’ By the use of zone implants, he was bonded to a computer. The result was a near-ideal DA operative—notoriously illegal, therefore free to go anywhere illegals go, and yet completely controlled by DA’s programming.

  “He did not ‘escape’ from UMCPHQ. He was given Trumpet and dispatched on a mission to destroy the bootleg shipyard called Billingate on Thanatos Minor. Because the Amnion allowed this installation to exist inside the borders of forbidden space in clear contravention of their treaties with us, we considered it a valid target for a covert operation.”

  “So Warden Dios sent Angus Thermopyle to commit an act of war,” Sen Abdullah sneered harshly.

  “No.” Koina couldn’t restrain her desire to defend Warden. “Captain Thermopyle was sent to carry out an act of sabotage against an installation which the Amnion should not have allowed to exist. His mission can be easily justified under the terms of the UMCP charter.”

  Sen snorted in derision, but didn’t argue the point.

  Firmly she resumed, “Once Captain Thermopyle had carried out his mission, he fled forbidden space. Punisher had been sent to the Com-Mine belt to provide support in case he needed it. When his flight took him to Massif-5, she followed.”

  So far she doubted that Fane had any quarrel with her responses. Her edited version of events must have reassured him. But that was about to change—

  “Do you call this complicated?” Tel Burnish put in dryly. “It seems simple enough.”

  Ah, but she hadn’t yet told him the real story.

  “Why Massif-5, Director Hannish?” Member Silat asked in an unassuming tone. “Are you able to account for this?”

  “Yes, I can—” Koina began.

  “No, Director Hannish,” Maxim intervened like the crack of a whip. “I won’t allow you to skip so blithely over the most crucial questions.” He had no idea how crucial what she would have answered was. “Why did Calm Horizons pursue Trumpet? That’s what we need to know.

  “You claim Captain Thermopyle’s mission can be ‘justified under the terms of the UMCP charter.’ But ‘an act of sabotage against an installation which the Amnion should not have allowed to exist’ wasn’t likely to inspire this incursion. In terms of treaties, they can’t pretend they weren’t in the wrong. So why is Calm Horizons here now?

  “What did Captain Thermopyle really do in forbidden space? What was his true mission?”

  Koina fixed a trenchant stare on Igensard. “Special Counsel,” she stated acidly, “Captain Thermopyle’s ‘true mission’ was exactly as I’ve described it. His actions aren’t responsible for this incursion. As far as our present crisis is concerned, his only fault is that he rescued some of our people before he fled forbidden space. If you call that ‘fault.’”

  Obliquely she wondered, Was that part of his “true mission”? Had Warden sent him to Billingate to bring Morn home? Hashi had said no: Angus’ programming had been written to preclude the possibility that he might save Ensign Hyland’s life. And Warden hadn’t contradicted him. Yet Koina found that she believed otherwise. Morn was too vital to be left in Nick’s hands—or the Amnion’s.

  Turning away from Maxim, Koina asserted, “The blame for Calm Horizons’ presence belongs to two other men.”

  She nodded to the CAIP Senior Member. “Bear with me, please, Senior Member Silat. I can answer your question better if I tackle the Special Counsel’s first.

  “The two men I mentioned are Com-Mine Deputy Chief of Security Milos Taverner and Captain Nick Succorso.”

  “What, Taverner?” Vest Martingale objected. As the Member for Com-Mine Station, she took accusations against Com-Mine Security personally. “Are you still blaming him?”

  “Member Martingale—” Koina’s frustration and anger at being badgered showed in her tone. She made no effort to suppress it. “Milos Taverner was sent with Captain Thermopyle—among other reasons—to serve as a kind of ‘control.’ To supervise his actions. To adjust his programming as circumstances might dictate. The plain fact is that no set of instructions, however sophisticated, can cover every situation or decision a welded cyborg might conceivably encounter. Deputy Chief Taverner’s job was to make any corrections which might become necessary to keep Captain Thermopyle ‘on course.’

  “Unfortunately Taverner betrayed Captain Thermopyle and Trumpet to the Amnion. Sold them out.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Maxim snapped. Each time Koina shifted her attention away from him, he moved slightly toward the front of the dais, as if he wanted to force her to look at him; upstage her before the Council. “Thermopyle’s mission must have succeeded. Otherwise the Amnion wouldn’t have any reason to pursue him. But how could he succeed if he was betrayed?”

  Koina took a deep breath, held it briefly, so that she wouldn’t shout at him. Everything she said took her closer to the most painful parts of her explanation. But anger gave her strength; steadied her resolve. Unnoticed, her knees had stopped trembling. Despite the interruptions, she didn’t lose the thread of her explanation.

  “Captain Thermopyle,” she articulated distinctly, “succeeded because the Deputy Chief’s treachery was foreseen. Director Dios and Director Lebwohl were aware of the danger, and took precautions against it.

  “But Milos Taverner had other secrets to reveal.” Koina had inferred this after her last conversation with Warden, when he’d told her why Trumpet had gone to Massif-5. Since then she’d gleaned indirect confirmation from Angus’ only transmission to the UMCP director. “He had reason to know—”

  “Wait a minute.” The Special Counsel simply couldn’t leave her alone. “What do you mean, ‘aware of the danger’? How did they know?”

  “I’ll get to that,” she snapped back. “If you
keep interrupting me, I won’t be able to answer any of your questions.”

  Before Maxim could retort, President Len spoke unexpectedly from the back of the dais.

  “Special Counsel, I’m warning you. So far I’ve let all of you harry Director Hannish as much as you want. But if you keep this up, I’m going to impose strict rules of order.” Apparently his exasperation—or perhaps his sympathy for Koina—had become greater than his instinct for conciliation, at least for the moment. “After that, anybody who says anything without being recognized will be removed from the room.”

  Koina looked toward him gratefully. “Thank you, Mr. President.” A bit of her anger melted, and she gave him what she hoped was a ravishing smile. “That helps.”

  Gracelessly Maxim muttered, “I apologize, Director Hannish. I’ll repeat the question later.”

  Koina ignored him.

  Despite his interference—and the Council’s—she’d reached the line which separated Warden’s intentions from Fasner’s desires; the brink of disaster. Now she had to take her first step into a land of ruin—

  With no word from either Hashi or Chief Mandich.

  If she hadn’t chosen to believe that Warden had sent Angus to rescue Morn, she might have faltered. But her unsupported conviction sustained her.

  “Here’s part of what you wanted to know, Member Manse,” she said more quietly; holding her anger in reserve. “Deputy Chief Taverner knew that the drug in Captain Succorso’s possession—the ‘fake’ antimutagen Director Lebwohl mentioned—was in fact a true, effective mutagen immunity drug.”

  At that moment the shock in the room was so great that no one made a sound. For an instant even Fane’s subvocalized running commentary to UMCHO fell silent. A true, effective mutagen immunity drug. Her words had the effect of a kaze’s blast. Igensard almost staggered; seemed to shrink in surprise. Punjat Silat made a series of small, stunned, clutching gestures, as if he were reaching out for a support which no longer existed. Sen Abdullah gaped like a man who couldn’t breathe well enough to grasp the opportunity Koina had given him; bereft of air and wit by the enormity of the treason she confessed.

  Stiff with strain, Sixten Vertigus lurched to his feet. He may have wanted to cry out against this revelation; denounce it—Betrayal filled his old eyes. For decades he’d backed Warden Dios against Holt Fasner. But dismay seemed to seal his throat. Koina’s heart went out to him as he groped for words he couldn’t find. When he collapsed slowly back into his seat, she feared he would never stand again.

  Because he needed the only help she could give him—and because she couldn’t retreat now—she told the appalled stillness, “Building on research done by Intertech, primarily the work of Dr. Vector Shaheed, DA developed the formula some time ago. But the information was never released. On direct orders from Holt Fasner, the use—and even the knowledge—of the drug has been restricted to DA covert operations.”

  Do you hear me, Sixten? she thought toward the old Senior Member. Maybe you were wrong to back Warden. I don’t think so—but maybe you were. But you were right to oppose Fasner.

  Captain Vertigus may hot have understood her. The stricken pallor of his face and the distress in his eyes gave her the impression that he was beyond reach.

  Abruptly Fane found his voice. “That’s a lie,” he almost shouted. A flush of fury showed through his tangled beard. “Holt Fasner did no such thing. He knows nothing about this.”

  At the same time Maxim rallied to demand, “Are you saying the UMCP have had an effective antimutagen for years, and have been suppressing it?”

  Koina gripped the edges of the podium and continued to address the Council as if neither man had spoken.

  “Captain Succorso had the drug with him. Director Lebwohl gave it to him so that he could carry out operations for DA in forbidden space.”

  “Did you hear me, Director Hannish?” the FEA blared like a trumpet; loud as a horn of doom. “I said that’s a lie!”

  Still Koina ignored him. While she could, she explained, “That’s one reason the Amnion have risked an incursion. They want that drug. They can’t be sure Captain Succorso got it from us. They’re hoping to destroy it before the formula reaches the rest of humankind. And if they can’t destroy it, they want to study it, learn how to counter it.”

  “Lies!” Fane roared. “The drug doesn’t exist! And even if it does—even if Dios has been lying to us all this time—Holt Fasner knew nothing about it. If you’re going to make these accusations, by God, you’d better prove them!”

  Without a glance at him, she answered, “I have Director Dios’ word for it.”

  And Vector Shaheed’s, she might have added. Nick Succorso’s. Morn’s. Davies’. But she wasn’t ready to go that far yet. She was hoping for something else—

  “Do you have any record of the order?” the FEA countered fiercely. “Is it logged anywhere?”

  “Not that I know of,” she admitted. Now she used her anger to keep her calm. “As a rule, CEO Fasner delivers his orders to Director Dios in person.” Deliberately she put aside any pretense that her attack wasn’t aimed at the Dragon. “In the privacy of UMCHO. If any record exists, he has it.”

  “Then it’s Dios’ word against mine,” Fane snarled. “And you’ve already admitted that he’s been lying to the Council.”

  Koina didn’t argue. Instead she left his challenge hanging in the air while she took a deep breath to calm herself. Her attack on Fasner’s authority had hardly begun: she had a great deal more to say. But all her accusations lacked the corroboration which would make them unimpeachable. If Hashi and Chief Mandich didn’t find evidence for her soon, she was going to fail. Everything she said would recoil against her. Warden would look like a man who wanted to cover his own crimes by blaming someone else. And she would look like his puppet.

  Rather than contradicting Cleatus directly, she told the Members, “When Trumpet first left forbidden space, Captain Thermopyle flared a message to UMCPHQ through a UMC listening post. It said, in part, ‘The Amnion know about the mutagen immunity drug in Nick Succorso’s possession.’ Whatever the First Executive Assistant disputes, I think we can take that as fact.

  “I believe Milos Taverner also knew. He and Captain Succorso did business together for years. When he betrayed Captain Thermopyle, he also betrayed a familiar partner.”

  As well as the rest of humankind.

  Maxim was charged with too much intensity to keep quiet. “So when Director Lebwohl told us this Taverner betrayed Com-Mine with Angus Thermopyle,” he sneered, “that was another lie?”

  Koina nodded firmly. “It was.” But she kept her attention fixed on the faces below the dais. “The Special Counsel asked what I meant when I said that Director Dios and Director Lebwohl were ‘aware of the danger’ Milos Taverner represented. The truth is that we—I mean Director Dios and Director Lebwohl—had what you might call a special relationship with Taverner. The Deputy Chief was a man of”—she considered a choice of descriptions—“flexible loyalties. Putting it crudely, he was for sale. He sold what he knew and what he could do to anyone who paid him.

  “We know that because we paid him.”

  Vest Martingale snatched a sharp gasp through her teeth; but no one else reacted. Even Cleatus was silent; too busy with his throat pickup and PCR to say anything. And the rest of her audience, Koina suspected, had already received too many shocks. They were too shaken to protest against every new revelation.

  Too bad. She was just getting warmed up. Her voice hardened as she went on.

  “Angus Thermopyle was accused and convicted of stealing supplies from Com-Mine. But he didn’t do it. He was framed. We framed him. Or, more precisely, we paid Milos Taverner and Nick Succorso to frame him.

  “Taverner was paid in cash.” She made each word as clear as a cut. “Succorso was paid with Morn Hyland.”

  That was too much for Blaine Manse. “Good God!” she objected; almost wailed. “You admit it? One of your own people?

 
; “Why?”

  Koina knew that Blaine meant, Why did you sell Morn? Hashi had said, Ensign Hyland was irretrievably compromised. In one sense that may have been true. But in another it was entirely false; a piece of misdirection to confuse Warden’s foes. However, the PR director replied as if Blaine’s question referred to Angus.

  “We wanted to be sure he was convicted of a crime that didn’t carry the death penalty so we could req him. And—” Even now she found these things difficult to say. But the anger in the marrow of her bones carried her. “And we wanted to undermine Com-Mine Security’s credibility.

  “I’m sure you all remember how the Preempt Act finally passed into law. We introduced it several times, but you always voted it down. You didn’t favor it until we found a way to convince you local Station Security wasn’t trustworthy.

  “We used Angus for that.”

  She kept her voice quiet, her tone level. Nevertheless the weight of what she said seemed to fill the chamber like a shout. “Let me be completely clear. We can’t afford any confusion about this. We framed Angus Thermopyle with the explicit intention of persuading you to pass the Preempt Act.

  “Once again,” she finished, “Director Dios and Director Lebwohl did this on the direct orders of CEO Fasner.”

  She expected some new outburst from Maxim; watched him peripherally so that she could brace herself. But instead of swelling to an explosion, he seemed to shrink. Some kind of personal dismay leeched the blood from his cheeks, damped the core of his energy. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes flinched away from her; away from the Members.

  “No,” he moaned so softly that Koina barely heard him. “No. This is all wrong. It won’t work like this. Not if Fasner—”

  By now he must have realized that Koina—and Warden Dios—were playing for higher stakes than he was prepared to face.

  While Igensard sank, Captain Vertigus pulled himself up in his seat. His hands trembled as if they were full of infirmity; but a keen fire shone in his old eyes. He may have grasped one of Koina’s unspoken points. To suppress a true mutagen immunity drug was a crime of one kind: to deliberately mislead the Council into passing the Preempt Act was malfeasance of another kind altogether. If an accusation like that could be nailed to the Dragon’s door—