This Day All Gods Die Part 29

He was dressed like a man in a black s.h.i.+psuit made from a material Warden had never seen before; a fabric which seemed to shed light like water. The shape of his limbs and chest and features appeared normal. Above his boots, pale, ordinary flesh reached as high as his knees. However, the legs of his s.h.i.+psuit had been cut away at the knees to accommodate thick k.n.o.bs of crusted Amnion tissue. A human hand and wrist extended from one of his sleeves; but his other arm was bare, covered only with scabs or rust from shoulder to forearm. Half his face showed no mark of mutation or injury. On the other side, a viscid Amnion eye stared without blinking over a partially lipless mouth and pointed, rending teeth.

Like the guards', his aura was a nauseating swirl Warden couldn't interpret.

A receiver in his ear and a pickup at his throat indicated that he could talk to the bridge-or whatever the Amnion called their control center-whenever he wished.

Warden swallowed hard to moisten his throat; make himself breathe. Marc Vestabule had once been human: that was beyond question. But the Amnion had transformed him until only parts of his former shape remained.

With an effort, Warden fought down terror-a blind, atavistic dismay which seemed to spring straight from his genes. Somehow, he thought, prayed, it must be possible to deal with such creatures. It must be possible to stifle panic enough to understand them. Or oppose them.

But he could barely force air into his lungs. To speak or move was beyond him. The ghouls of his darkest nightmares had appeared; images of a d.a.m.nation he'd risked for his entire species. Yet these creatures weren't true d.a.m.nation. By its very nature, d.a.m.nation was human. Anguish and terror and excruciation were humankind's essential legacy: every child born inherited them. The Amnion were worse. Ultimately even eternal agony and dread were more humane than the doom they offered.

Understanding-and opposition-were out of the question.

Almost involuntarily, hardly knowing what he did, Warden s.h.i.+fted the capsule in his mouth until it rested between his teeth.

But then, by some trick of fear or will, he heard the answer Has.h.i.+ might have given him. Oh, surely it is not necessary to understand understand them, Has.h.i.+ replied in Warden's mind. Their imperialism is genetic. They desire the conquest of all life as we desire air. So much is simple. them, Has.h.i.+ replied in Warden's mind. Their imperialism is genetic. They desire the conquest of all life as we desire air. So much is simple.

They are only to be feared when they they are able to understand are able to understand us us.

What had Vestabule said? The process by which I became Amnion enables me to retain certain resources of memory, language, and comprehension. For this reason I have been invested with decisiveness. In dealings with your kind, my former humanity may a.s.sist me to function effectively The process by which I became Amnion enables me to retain certain resources of memory, language, and comprehension. For this reason I have been invested with decisiveness. In dealings with your kind, my former humanity may a.s.sist me to function effectively.

If that was true-and Has.h.i.+ was right-the time had come for real fear.

Suddenly Warden pa.s.sed beyond primitive terrors and visceral abhorrence. With a clarity that astonished him, he recognized that he needed his fear too much to let it paralyze him. Fear was strength: it made him human. And if Vestabule could in some sense think and act as if he were human, then only another human might hope to resist him.

Carefully Warden pushed the capsule back into his cheek. The air he pulled into his breathing mask tasted of treachery. Human malice: human deceit. Hope. He grinned as if he'd already won a contest more profound than any challenge Marc Vestabule could present.

"I'm Dios," he announced through the mask. "I don't know what you want to 'discuss,' but I would rather talk about it someplace smaller." Less exposed. More private. "All this"-he gestured around the hold-"gives me hives."

"There will be no difficulty, Warden Dios." Without the distortion of thrust static, Vestabule's voice sounded like his alien skin: caked with rust; as if his humanity had been corroded by disuse. "Your requirements will be satisfied.

"A chamber has been prepared. There we will negotiate." Despite his resources of memory, language, and comprehension resources of memory, language, and comprehension, he couldn't use words like "negotiate" and "discuss" without discomfort. "When we have gained mutual satisfaction, you will convey your commands to your s.h.i.+ps and station."

He turned. With an awkward gesture, he asked Warden to follow him.

A chamber-Apparently Vestabule had no intention of letting the UMCP director see Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' "bridge"-or any other vital part of the s.h.i.+p. Warden nodded to himself. It was comforting to think that the Amnioni still considered him dangerous. "bridge"-or any other vital part of the s.h.i.+p. Warden nodded to himself. It was comforting to think that the Amnioni still considered him dangerous.

From his grip on the wall he pushed off so that he coasted between the guards after Vestabule.

Neither of them reached out to take hold of him. Instead they followed at his back-too close for comfort; not close enough to grab him quickly. Another small comfort: Vestabule meant to try persuasion before coercion.

From the hold Vestabule entered a corridor like a gullet, crooked and misshapen. As the s.p.a.ce around Warden became constricted, it seemed to concentrate the light. The surfaces seethed like brimstone. More and more the pa.s.sage ahead resembled a descent into fire.

But he didn't have far to go. After twenty or thirty meters, Vestabule halted at an irregular depression in the wall. When Warden reached it, it proved to be a door. Vestabule's palm on a sensitive plate beside it caused it to slide open.

Vestabule led him into a chamber the size of an interrogation room. Light from sources he couldn't identify filled every corner. A console had been set or grown into one wall. He didn't know enough about Amnion technology to be sure of its function, but he a.s.sumed it was a communications terminal. Other than that, the room contained nothing except two chairs rooted to the floor, facing each other. Both offered zero-g belts-presumably for comfort.

Why did the Amnion want him here? To negotiate, Vestabule had said. But he'd also said that Warden would be allowed to return to UMCPHQ when the "discussion" was done, and that was patently a lie. How many other lies had the Amnioni told?

When Warden had asked, How can I trust you? How can I trust you? Vestabule had replied, Vestabule had replied, Because we are Amnion. Unlike humankind, we bargain openly. Also we fulfill our bargains. Because we are Amnion. Unlike humankind, we bargain openly. Also we fulfill our bargains. Then he'd added, Then he'd added, There is this in addition, however. We gain nothing by harming you There is this in addition, however. We gain nothing by harming you.

The lie was there, but Warden couldn't name it. He would have to wait until it was revealed.

He didn't think he would have to wait long.

Decisively, as if he already had all the answers he needed, he drifted to one of the chairs, pulled himself into it, and closed the belt across his lap.

Vestabule did the same. When he was secure in his chair, he made a series of guttural sounds-speaking into his pickup or addressing the guards, Warden couldn't tell which. However, the guards reacted as if they'd received orders. They retreated from the door. One of them palmed it shut.

Warden Dios was alone with his ghoul.

Defenseless, except for his fear- He began at once.

"You have something you want to discuss-something you think is worth risking a war over." He spoke with force, but the strange walls seemed to absorb his voice, depriving it of resonance. "You said, 'all future relations between our species will be determined by the resolution of this matter.' And you suggested we might reach a resolution in person because your"-he permitted himself a grimace-"'background' helps you understand my concerns. Well, I don't know what your your concerns are, but concerns are, but mine mine are simple. are simple.

"I want you out of here. Out of Earth's solar system. Out of human s.p.a.ce. And I want you to go without firing a shot.

"Let me be clear about this. No casualties. No damage. No fighting. None. You give me that, and I'll give you a safe conduct as far as your frontier. Then I'll let the diplomats figure out what you can do to make reparation."

Vestabule replied with a nod which somehow failed to convey a.s.sent. The fixed stare of his Amnion eye and the blinking of his human one gave a mixed impression of malice and anxiety. "That is indeed simple," he p.r.o.nounced. "However, it is not acceptable. If our requirements were comparably simple, we would not have hazarded bringing our species to war.

"We are here." His shoulders twitched. He may have meant to shrug, but his muscles had forgotten how. "Our presence must be faced as it is, not as you wish to consider it. You have stated your desires. I will state ours. If our requirements are not satisfied by negotiation, we will conclude that we must fire upon you as hard and often as we can until we are destroyed. We will crush your location of government. We will crush your own station. Then we will-"

"I know, I know," Warden interrupted harshly. "You said all that before. But you still haven't told me what your 'requirements' are. So far we don't have anything to discuss."

"I await-" Vestabule's voice trailed off into the distance. For a moment he turned his head: he may have been listening to his receiver. Then he faced Warden again. His alien eye glared like a pool of acid. "Now I am ready."

His metallic hostility tightened a knot in Warden's viscera.

"Warden Dios," the Amnioni sc.r.a.ped out, "a cyborg in your service was sent into Amnion s.p.a.ce to destroy an installation. That in itself was an act of war, meriting reprisal. In addition, however, this cyborg-this Captain Angus Thermopyle-also stole two items of property which had come into the possession of the Amnion through open bargaining and the mutual satisfaction of requirements with another of your agents, Captain Nick Succorso. I refer to the human female, Morn Hyland, and her male offspring, Davies Hyland, force-grown on Enablement Station."

"You call them 'property,'" Warden snapped. "I call them 'people.' Succorso didn't have the right to bargain for them." call them 'property,'" Warden snapped. "I call them 'people.' Succorso didn't have the right to bargain for them."

Vestabule stared and blinked like a schizophrenic. "Your response lacks relevance, Warden Dios. I speak of Amnion requirements. We require the restoration of our property. And in reparation for the wrong we have suffered-so that we will not be compelled to consider ourselves at war with humankind-we require Captain Thermopyle himself, as well as others who accompany him. In particular we require the man named Vector Shaheed."

He stopped as if he'd said everything that needed saying; as if he knew Warden had no choice except acquiescence.

But Warden was prepared for this. He'd known all along what Calm Horizons Calm Horizons had come for. And he'd guessed how much Milos Taverner had told the Amnion. He was only surprised that Vestabule didn't demand Nick as well. Did the Amnion know what had happened to Nick? had come for. And he'd guessed how much Milos Taverner had told the Amnion. He was only surprised that Vestabule didn't demand Nick as well. Did the Amnion know what had happened to Nick?

Because Warden wasn't surprised, he was able to contain his panic. He snorted scornfully. "And you're human enough to realize demands like that would make anyone who heard them furious for your blood. UMCPHQ would by G.o.d mutiny if my people thought I would accept those terms. So you insisted on presenting your 'requirements' to me in person. In secret. You think you can extort an agreement from me without risking UMCPHQ's reaction. Not to mention Earth's. You think I can tight-beam orders to Trumpet Trumpet, orders no one else hears-hand you Morn and Davies and everyone else, then fell my forces to let you go unmolested. You get what you want, I get what I want. And nothing bad happens until I have to tell the people I swore to serve what I did.

"It's a nice, tidy picture," he observed in a snarl. "Unfortunately it has several flaws."

Vestabule sat without speaking, as if the idea of "flaws" had no meaning in the language of his kind.

For one, Warden wanted to shout, roar, I won't do it. I won't do it. h.e.l.l, he wanted to spit in Vestabule's half-human face. But he wasn't ready to go that far yet. h.e.l.l, he wanted to spit in Vestabule's half-human face. But he wasn't ready to go that far yet.

Instead he said trenchantly, "For one, Trumpet Trumpet isn't here. And for another, what makes you believe she would obey orders like that if I gave them?" isn't here. And for another, what makes you believe she would obey orders like that if I gave them?"

Apparently the Amnioni didn't consider these significant obstacles. "She will obey," he replied, "for the same reason that you will order her. The cost of refusal will be measured in millions of lives. Also your power over your cyborg will enable you to compel him.

"Our instruments," he continued, "and your own system-wide scan network indicate that Trumpet Trumpet is indeed here. The vessel arrived a short time ago. For reasons which you will know better than we, it was transported from the gap by a UMCP cruiser which your network identifies as is indeed here. The vessel arrived a short time ago. For reasons which you will know better than we, it was transported from the gap by a UMCP cruiser which your network identifies as Punisher." Punisher."

Involuntarily Warden recoiled. He couldn't help it: he needed a chance to collect his courage-or his wits. Trumpet Trumpet was here? Transported by was here? Transported by Punisher? Punisher? He didn't doubt Vestabule for an instant. Nevertheless he couldn't begin to guess what the information meant. He didn't doubt Vestabule for an instant. Nevertheless he couldn't begin to guess what the information meant.

But Trumpet's Trumpet's arrival made the crisis immediate. Vestabule would push for a decision-and action-as quickly as possible. Any delay weakened his position. arrival made the crisis immediate. Vestabule would push for a decision-and action-as quickly as possible. Any delay weakened his position.

Stalling for time, Warden asked, "What's Punisher Punisher doing?" doing?"

Again Vestabule spoke incomprehensibly into his pickup, listened to his receiver. Then he answered, "Her targ is fixed on us, as ours is on her. However, she has withheld fire. The orientation of her communications dishes suggests that she is in contact with your station."

Good. Has.h.i.+ would brief Punisher. Punisher. He would tell Min what was at stake, here as well as in the GCES emergency session. He would tell Min what was at stake, here as well as in the GCES emergency session.

Warden had already made the decision to stake his hopes on Has.h.i.+'s good faith.

He resisted an impulse to fold his arms across his chest. He did that too often; closed his heart. Instead he braced his palms on his thighs for support.

"Why don't you hit her now? Kill her while you can?"

Vestabule's shoulders attempted another unconvincing shrug. "Your vessels have not arrived in a manner which we deem threatening. And we believe that our requirements will be better satisfied by your intervention." He paused, then added, "Doubtless Punisher Punisher will enforce your orders if will enforce your orders if Trumpet Trumpet opposes them." opposes them."

That may have been true. If Min's loyalty had limits, Warden had never reached them. And her example inspired loyalty in her people. Even Dolph Ubikwe would obey her in an emergency, despite his insubordinate nature.

But Warden believed that she was also capable of refusing- He needed to take control of his circ.u.mstances before they became untenable. For Trumpet's Trumpet's sake, and sake, and Punisher's Punisher's, as well as his own, he countered, "I don't know what 'manner' you're talking about. I guess that's beside the point. Here's the point.

"I won't do it."

Vestabule's Amnion stare revealed nothing. His human eye seemed to flutter in distress. His heritage of humanity may have been difficult to access difficult to access, but it remained a part of him: the part which made bargains with lies; sealed them with coercion.

"I know why you want Morn and Davies," Warden went on bitterly. "They've sent messages explaining the situation. You haven't risked a war over mere 'property.' You want them because you think they represent the knowledge you need to win. Wipe out humankind completely." Anger thrummed in his voice. "And you want Vector Shaheed to help you develop defenses against us.

"It's too much." At last he let himself shout. "I will not threaten my entire species by asking or ordering them to turn themselves over to you!"

Despite his outrage and dismay, however, his a.s.sertion was dishonest; a lie to match Vestabule's. Humankind's survival was more important than a few million lives. But Warden had reason to fear that losing those lives would lead to Holt Fasner's elevation in the Council's place. Holt might become the government; the only power. And if that happened it also would endanger the survival of humanity.

To keep those few million people alive-and give Koina her chance at the Dragon-might be worth the peril of letting Calm Horizons Calm Horizons have Morn and Davies, Angus and Vector. have Morn and Davies, Angus and Vector.

In addition there were other possibilities-too nebulous to define, too precious to ignore. Warden hadn't yet decided how he would finally answer Vestabule. He refused in order to force Vestabule's hand; push the Amnioni into exposing his own falsehoods.

Vestabule faced him without moving. For a long moment the Amnioni didn't speak. His aura swirled and seethed like the radiance of a demon. When he replied at last, his tone remained inflexible and unmoved; beyond appeal. Words came from his distorted mouth like flakes of rust and ruin.

"It is a handicap for us that we do not understand deceit. Lies are not"-he seemed to search his memory-"conceivable?"-he nodded at the choice-"not conceivable among us. Our communication rests on smell as well as on sound, and to some extent on vision. Pheromones do not lie. Hue and shade do not lie. For that reason we are alone in this chamber. Other Amnion would be distressed by our discussion."

Distressed to be in the presence of treachery- "I also am distressed," Vestabule continued. "Nevertheless I remember portions of my human nature, and of my experience. In particular I remember mutation. I remember my dismay that my humanity was threatened."

Warden scowled to conceal his reaction; his prescient dread.

"Because I remember," the Amnioni continued, "I know how I must respond to your refusal."

From a pocket of his s.h.i.+psuit he drew out a hypo filled with a clear liquid and a vial of small pills.

At the sight, fear clenched Warden's guts so hard that he nearly gasped. There it was at last: the lie; the coercion.

"Attend this well, Warden Dios." Vestabule spoke like old iron. "I stated accurately that we gain nothing by your enforced mutation. The transformation would be detected. Therefore your people would cease to obey you.

"However, this mutagen suits a special purpose. It is slow to act. Once injected, it will remain pa.s.sive for perhaps ten minutes before it begins to alter your genetic ident.i.ty.

"These capsules"-he raised the vial-"will cause the mutagen to continue in its pa.s.sive state. Each supplies an hour of prolonged humanity. The mutagen will live among the false strings of your DNA. But you will be preserved as you are while the counteragent is active.

"I will inject you with the mutagen," he announced. "Then I will offer you the counteragent in exchange for your compliance with our requirements."

Without haste or urgency-inexorable as nightmare-he released his belt. He seemed certain he could do what he said; certain Warden would surrender, paralyzed by panic.

Or perhaps he simply trusted his own strength.

But Warden was ready for this as well, despite the primitive horror writhing in his guts.

He'd never heard of a mutagen or counteragent like this. The prospect of being injected with such an evil appalled him. Nevertheless the threat itself was simple: clear and easy compared to the question of sacrificing Morn and Angus, or of letting several million people die. Beyond doubt Marc Vestabule remembered much of what it meant to be human. For that reason he was dangerous; and vulnerable.

Like the Dragon- Warden raised his hand as if he had the power to stop Vestabule; the power to command him. "I hear you. Now you'd you'd better listen to better listen to me. me. Before you do something rash." Before you do something rash."

Secretly he was pleased that his voice held firm. That small show of strength diminished the sting of his shame.

Vestabule paused in the act of rising from his chair.

With a sweep of his tongue, Warden moved Has.h.i.+'s capsule to the front of his mouth; held it between his teeth so that the Amnioni could see it. Then he pushed it back into his cheek.

"It's called a suicide pill," he said as if he'd forgotten what fear felt like. "It's poison. Quick and sure. It doesn't dissolve. I'm safe right now. But if I bite down I'm dead."

To that extent he trusted Has.h.i.+ absolutely.

"I'm sure you're strong enough to force that mutagen into me." He spoke in a slow, fatal drawl. "I might flounder around the room for a while. Eventually you'll get me.

"But there's no way you can prevent me from biting down.

"You know I'm serious," he added in case Vestabule missed the truth. "Maybe you remember how you felt before you were mutated. Maybe you remember that you would have done anything anything to save yourself. But even if you don't, you know you would do the same in my place. To save your people." to save yourself. But even if you don't, you know you would do the same in my place. To save your people."

Try me, he dared the Amnioni. Just try me. Don't you know I would sell my soul-if I still had one-for a clean death?

By degrees Vestabule settled back into his seat. His expression was blank: whatever he felt didn't reach his face-or his features couldn't convey it. But after a moment his human eye closed. It stayed shut. He fixed his alien gaze on Warden as if he wanted to see Warden in purely Amnion terms.

Still slowly, ponderously, he directed the hypo at his own forearm; pressed it there until the hypo was empty. He raised his hand to show Warden that the mutagen-and the threat-was gone. Then he opened his fingers and let the hypo's inertia carry it away. The vial of pills he returned to his pocket.

His human eye remained closed as he began speaking into his pickup.

The words sounded so harsh and uncomfortable to Warden that his throat hurt in sympathy. Yet they came naturally to Vestabule. The stilted searching which characterized his human speech was absent.

When he was done, he looked at Warden again with both eyes. Despite its inflexibility, his voice carried an impression of pressure-a new threat, at once more insidious and more lethal than any mutagen.