This Day All Gods Die

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  “I don’t know what Min’s going to do about you.” His eyes glittered humorously. “She’ll have to do something. You’re probably too dangerous to live. But if she decides to terminate you, I’m going to make sure you get a commendation before you die. That’s a promise.” He held up his hands as if to ward off thanks. “Anybody who accomplishes what you just did should have a commendation nailed to him somewhere, even if it has to be on your coffin instead of your chest.”

  “How nice,” Angus growled in the same spirit. “I wish I could tell you how good that makes me feel. But it doesn’t. I’m so pleased I could puke.”

  Because he knew Dolph was joking, he didn’t mention that he was prepared to fight for his right to go on living.

  The captain replied with a relaxed chuckle. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I think they really do nail those commendations into you. Drive them right through your heart. Some people never recover.”

  He might have gone on; but the UMCP director groaned suddenly. Warden made a convulsive effort to shift his hips as if he needed to adjust the vector of his suit jets. Then he jerked his eye open.

  “Angus,” he croaked hoarsely. “Dolph. Where are we? What’s going on? Where’s that Amnioni?”

  He could probably guess most of what Angus, Dolph, and Mikka had done. He’d seen it happen. But no one had told him about Ciro—

  Dolph couldn’t restrain a quick laugh. “Gone!” he crowed. “Eaten by a black hole.” And then flung outward in an evanescent hail of subatomic particles when the black hole died. “Mikka Vasaczk’s brother, Ciro, set off one of Trumpet’s singularity grenades. The briefings I’ve read say those things don’t have much tactical use, but I’m here to tell you they work like magic if you do it right.”

  Scowling, Dios rubbed his organic eye; slapped his face; straightened his back; pulled himself together by force of will. “Captain Ubikwe,” he ordered sharply, “start again. I didn’t understand a word you just said.”

  On command Dolph dropped his levity. “Sorry, Director.” At once his gaze grew troubled; disturbed by images of Ciro—and Vector. “Nothing’s free,” he sighed. “We wanted to save you and Suka Bator. We wanted to save everything we possibly could. We’re just lucky the price wasn’t a hell of a lot higher.

  “Ciro Vasaczk was an illegal. He served under Nick Succorso. But he gave his life to kill that Amnioni.”

  Angus thought he ought to explain how Ciro had reacted to Sorus Chatelaine’s mutagen—the same mutagen Vestabule had inflicted on Dios. But he didn’t have the heart for it. An explanation would have made Ciro seem crazy. The boy deserved better.

  Apparently Dolph felt the same way. He didn’t mention Ciro’s history. Instead he said, “He went EVA with a grenade. Attached it to Calm Horizons’ hull. After you joined me here, Mikka Vasaczk used Trumpet’s thrust to haul us out of range. She covered us with that dispersion field generator. Then Ciro fired an impact rifle at his grenade from point-blank range.

  “We’re still here,” he finished simply. “The defensive isn’t.”

  Dios happened to be at the targ station. A frown clenched his forehead, and he drummed his fingers on the edge of the inactive console, as if he were thinking furiously. His gaze flicked between Dolph, Angus, and the screens: he might have been measuring them against each other; estimating possibilities—

  Damn, Angus breathed to himself. Damn it to hell. Warden was still scheming. He’d already won. If Fasner’s attack on the Council was any indication, Dios had gained everything he wanted. And yet he wasn’t done.

  “It’s probably churlish to point this out,” Dios told Dolph gruffly, “but you took a hell of a risk.”

  Captain Ubikwe’s eyes narrowed. All his muscles seemed to tighten, drawing his bulk into a harder shape. Grimly he answered, “Acting Director Donner sanctioned it in person.”

  Without warning Davies raised his head, swung the data station to face Dolph and Dios. “Did you tell him this was all Angus’ idea, Captain?” he put in harshly. He must have been conscious for the past several minutes, listening with his eyes closed while he gathered his strength. Like Angus and Warden, he’d discarded his helmet in the airlock. The aftereffects of strain left his features livid and angry. “Vector and I were just going to sacrifice ourselves. We didn’t want the Council killed. Or a war. But Angus convinced Morn to let him do it this way instead.”

  Bitterly Davies finished, “Did you tell him that’s the only reason he’s still alive?”

  Angus stared at his son. Davies’ support surprised him. For a moment a strange emotion that might have been gratitude swelled in his chest. Apparently the man he’d become actually felt glad he had a son.

  Lightness and release. Gratitude? Shit, his entire head had been filled with emotions he wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to handle.

  If Dios was surprised, he didn’t show it. He faced Davies, searched the kid with his IR vision. Then he nodded to himself. “Davies Hyland,” he pronounced firmly. “You probably don’t need me to tell you you look like your father. But you think like your mother. That’s something to be proud of.”

  Already his voice had recovered its natural authority. Angus remembered it vividly. The UMCP director had sounded much the same when he’d replaced Angus’ datacore.

  We’ve committed a crime against you. In essence, you’re no longer a human being. We’ve deprived you of choice—and responsibility.

  At the time, however, Angus had heard hints of self-loathing behind Warden’s ease of command. Now they were gone.

  He’d avowed, It’s got to stop. And he’d kept that promise.

  If anything, he’d become even more dangerous.

  “Don’t worry about Angus,” he told Davies. “I have a pretty good idea how much I owe him. And I can at least guess what it cost him. I won’t forget.”

  Then Dios turned back to Captain Ubikwe. “And I don’t object to the risk, Dolph. I’m just amazed by it. Grateful and humbled. You’ve given me a chance to finish what I started. I’ll try to make it worthwhile.”

  Dolph nodded noncommittally. His heavy jaws chewed words he didn’t say; reactions he kept private.

  Angus swore to himself. He thought he knew how Punisher’s commander felt. Make it worthwhile, shit. More plotting—more schemes. He’d had enough of Dios’ underhanded intentions. They were too expensive. He didn’t want to hear any more.

  Before the director could go on, he rasped, “If you don’t call Mikka, fat man, I will. She’s been quiet too long.”

  “You’re right,” Dolph agreed quickly. He seemed glad for the interruption. At once he thumbed his intercom. “Mikka?” he asked the pickup. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  Angus had watched him enough to understand that Dolph Ubikwe had his own reasons for outrage at Warden’s manipulations; a cop’s reasons. Maybe he didn’t think Warden’s actions were justified by Fasner’s defeat.

  A moment passed before Mikka answered. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded thin and fragile; hoarse with coughing. “Sort of.” The voice of a woman who’d been beaten up. “I think—” She gasped weakly. “I think I’m bleeding somewhere. Inside. I’m going to sickbay—”

  She faded out of the speakers as if she’d fainted.

  “Damn it!” Angus slapped at his belts. “She needs help. I’ve got to—”

  Davies cut him off. “No. I’ll go.” He gestured at the communications indicators on the status display. “Looks like Punisher and UMCPHQ are flaring us as hard as they can. I think there are some decisions that have to be made.” Suspicion and weariness stretched his voice taut. “I don’t need to know what they are. You do. They shouldn’t be made behind your back.”

  More quietly he finished, “I can help Mikka as well as you can.”

  Angus started to object, then relaxed back into his g-seat. Davies was right. If the UMCP director intended to make it worthwhile, Angus had to be ready to defend himself.

  Dios’ victory was tarnis
hed in ways Angus hadn’t expected.

  Without waiting for a response, Davies unclipped his belts; drifted toward the hatch while Dolph cycled it open. But at the inner door he paused.

  “Ciro was just a kid,” he said to Dios. “About my age—if I had an age. He was an illegal because that was the only life Mikka had to offer him. He didn’t deserve any of this.”

  Warden nodded as if he understood; as if every suggestion of distrust made sense to him.

  “Captain Ubikwe,” he commanded firmly, “log an order to Acting Director Min Donner. My last order. Full pardons for Mikka Vasaczk, Ciro Vasaczk, Vector Shaheed, Morn Hyland.” Morn had committed a capital crime when she’d accepted her zone implant control from Angus: she’d stolen the evidence against him—and used a zone implanton herself. In addition she was guilty of insubordination; perhaps even of mutiny. “They can have anything they want. Relocation, treatment, money, jobs, new id—anything. All they have to do is name it.

  “Angus doesn’t need a pardon. He already works for us. And you haven’t done anything illegal.”

  While Dolph murmured, “Aye, Director,” Warden held Davies’ gaze as if he wanted to ask, Does that help?

  Angus could see that it did. Davies’ eyes softened, and some of the strain left his muscles. Relief or regret twisted the corners of his mouth.

  “Thank you, Director,” he answered thickly.

  With a quick jerk on the nearest handgrip, he pulled himself into the airlock and disappeared.

  Remembering lightness, Angus waited to learn what Dios would do next. Whatever it was, he didn’t think he was going to like it. Nevertheless he was willing to be patient—at least for a little while.

  He wanted to know whether Warden would leave him any choice.

  “Director—” Dolph rumbled uncertainly. He pointed at the communications blips on his board. “I have to answer these. They’re getting frantic.”

  “No!” Dios snapped at once. “Don’t answer them. That’s my last order for you.”

  His voice had teeth: it could bite and tear when he let it.

  “Min can stand the wait,” he went on. “And she can certainly deal with UMCPHQ. I don’t want you to say a word to either of them until Angus and I leave.”

  “Leave?” Angus drawled. “I like the sound of that. Where are we going?”

  A dark scowl closed Dolph’s face. “Director—” he began again. “I’m a UMCP officer. It’s my duty to report.”

  Warden shook his head. “Of course. But not yet.

  “Listen to me, Dolph. This is important.” He held himself still while intensity poured off him in waves. Yet his physical restraint only increased the force of what he said. “I want you to take Davies and Mikka to UMCPHQ. And protect them. Make sure Min understands I want them protected. Just in case the Council suffers a spasm of self-righteousness and decides to punish somebody.

  “If I can persuade him to join me, Angus and I will use Trumpet to go visit Holt.” He permitted himself a stiff shrug. “You can talk to Min as soon as I’m gone.”

  Angus felt a sting of surprise. Persuade? he wondered. Persuade him? To go visit Holt? Did Warden mean that? Or was persuade just a polite word for coerce?

  Captain Ubikwe stared in distress at the man he’d served ever since he became a cop. “My God, Director,” he protested, “that doesn’t make any sense. You should talk to her yourself. Holt is finished. You can forget about him. You should—”

  “No.” Dios spoke softly now, but his tone implied a shout. “Koina told the Council everything. Every crime I’ve helped commit—everything that makes you wonder whether you can trust me. I’m tainted, Dolph. I’m complicit in Holt’s crimes. As much responsible for them as he is. Even if the Council decided to pardon me, I would still consider myself responsible.

  “If Min does her duty, her first action will be to place me under arrest for treason. She’ll order you to make me your prisoner and take me to UMCPHQ. And that might break her heart. She still believes in me.” He sounded certain. “I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on her. If she doesn’t arrest me, the Members won’t trust her. She’ll be tainted, too.”

  He didn’t mention that Dolph might find it painful to arrest the director of the UMCP. He didn’t need to: the truth was plain on Dolph’s face. He recognized the accuracy of Warden’s prediction—and it horrified him.

  Dios didn’t give him time to respond. The director’s vehemence mounted as he continued, “And Holt’s still alive. That I guarantee. Most of HO is intact. You can see it on scan.” He indicated the screens with a twitch of his head. “You can bet he made sure he was safe before he ordered that attack on Suka Bator. He is still alive.

  “Worse than that, he still has most of his power. All his contracts and knowledge, databases, leverage—everything his real muscle is based on. He can probably ruin half the Members if they take direct action against him. He can destroy the entire fiscal structure that supports us against forbidden space. Hell, if he wants to he can even sell the whole lot to the Amnion. You know he has ships and drones that weren’t damaged. Right now there’s nothing to stop him from packing his entire power-base aboard that yacht of his and hitting the gap with it.”

  “Min’s cordon will interdict—” Dolph croaked weakly.

  For an instant Warden’s control slipped. He punched one hard fist in the direction of the displays. Almost shouting, he retorted, “Those ships aren’t in position.”

  Angus believed him; but he glanced at the helm schematic to confirm it. No question about it: a ship could flee untouched from the far side of Fasner’s station.

  Which suggested some interesting possibilities—

  Dolph’s heavy frame slumped. In dismay he murmured, “Do you really think he would sell all that?”

  Dios closed his arms like restraints across his chest. “The Amnion can force-grow fetuses,” he said through his teeth. “They can imprint minds. They can make him immortal. And they’ll be glad to do it when they see what he has to sell.Yes, I think he might go that far.

  “That’s why I want you to let Angus and me go over there. Let us stop him. Permanently. Before he has time to commit a crime that’s worse than anything else he’s done.”

  More gently he concluded, “And I want you to do it without disobeying orders from the acting director. You shouldn’t have that on your record. Which means you can’t talk to her until after we’re on our way.”

  Dolph propped his forehead on one hand to hide his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at Warden anymore—or couldn’t bear the way Warden looked at him. For a moment he didn’t say anything. His shoulders knotted as he squeezed at his temples.

  In a muffled voice he sighed. “You aren’t coming back, are you”—a statement, not a question.

  Dios gripped himself hard. “What would be the point?”

  A sound like a buried groan leaked past Dolph’s fingers. He didn’t go on.

  “Fine,” Angus snorted. He couldn’t wait any longer: he wanted to know where he stood. “Let’s pretend everything you say is reasonable. And sane. Here’s my question.

  “How do you propose to ‘persuade’ me to go along with you?”

  Slowly the director turned his g-seat so that he could look straight at Angus.

  “You need me, that’s obvious,” Angus stated. “If Fasner’s still alive, then he still has defenses. You won’t have an easy time tackling him alone.

  “But why should I bother?” The first time Warden had talked to him, at the start of his mission to rescue Morn, Angus had hardly been able to meet the man’s piercing, augmented gaze. Now he held it easily. The more honest Warden became, the less Angus feared him. “Are you planning to threaten me with some kind of self-destruct? Some code that’ll fry my brain, or scramble my instruction-sets, or short-circuit my datacore? I’m sure you can do it. Hashi fucking Lebwohl wouldn’t miss a chance to hardwire me with something that nasty.”

  Dios didn’t look away. “No,” h
e said flatly, “I’m not going to threaten you. I’m through extorting the kind of help I need.”

  Then his voice showed its teeth. “You’ll go with me because I’m taking Trumpet. You’ll have to kill me to stop me. You may even have to kill Dolph.” He flicked a glance at Dolph, but didn’t wait for the captain to say anything. “And once I leave, you’re stuck. You’ll end up in custody on UMCPHQ. Unless you force Min to open fire on you. In which case Davies and Mikka will die with you.

  “Either way, I don’t think you’ll like it much.”

  Angus faced him with a feral grin. “Or,” he countered, “I could go with you part of the way and then kill you. I want a ship of my own. Trumpet suits me pretty well.”

  Even then Warden didn’t look away. He’d been staring at the consequences of his own actions for so long that nothing could make him flinch. “I’ll take that chance.”

  Angus sighed inwardly, where it didn’t show. For no good reason except that the director had finally begun to keep his promises, Angus believed him. Min Donner was right: Dios was trying to make restitution.

  Still grinning, Angus shifted his attention to Captain Ubikwe. “There’s something he hasn’t told you, fat man. Vestabule gave him a mutagen.”

  That hit Dolph hard. He snatched down his hand, jerked up his head. His eyes flared dumb anguish at Warden.

  “It’s the same kind Sorus Chatelaine used on Ciro,” Angus explained harshly. “He’ll stay human as long as he takes the drug to keep it passive. Which he has in his pocket. A few pills—a few hours.”

  Dolph tried to ask a question, but he couldn’t make his throat work.

  “So it’s really worse than it looks,” Angus went on. “If you take him back to UMCPHQ, you can cure him. Lebwohl’s antimutagen will do it. Then you can execute him for treason. Or you can let him go after Fasner. Let him finish himself off.

  “The way I see it, he’s tainted in more ways than one. He’s been a cop too long. He’s finally realized the same rules he kills other people for breaking should apply to him, too.