This Day All Gods Die (21 page)

Morn's reaction was silence.

"Well," Dolph put in casually, "now we know she isn't the only survivor. She may have killed Succorso and this Sib Mackern, but she didn't get everybody.

"You recognize the voice, Director? Was that Thermopyle?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Min couldn't tell.

She waited while her heart beat eight or ten times. Then she prompted, "Ensign Hyland?"

Abruptly Morn's voice came back across the narrowing gap between the ships.

"Don't you care that Calm Horizons must have heard Vector's broadcast? Don't you care that she's probably burning for forbidden space?"

"Of course I care." Min's tone dripped acid. "I'm Min Donner," God damn it. "But Calm Horizons isn't my only problem.''

"You mean us." Morn sounded like she was talking to herself. "We're too dangerous. I knew we were in trouble. But it's worse than I thought."

Dangerous? The ED director knew what Morn meant. But she didn't comment on that. Instead she offered, "And it could get even worse. One of my other problems is a merce-nary called Free Lunch. She has a contract to kill you. Have you seen her?"

Another pause: more hesitation. Min restrained an urge to shout while she waited.

Captain Ubikwe shifted forward in his g-seat as if he hoped that might urge Morn to answer. Cray frowned relentlessly past Min's shoulder. Glessen drummed his fingers on the edges of his board like a man who wanted to start shooting.

At last Morn replied, "Free Lunch is dead, too. We met her in the swarm. Angus killed her with a singularity grenade."

"Captain," Porson whispered excitedly, "that must have been the kinetic reflection anomaly we picked up. Director Donner was right."

"Don't remind me," Dolph grumbled.

An edge of anger crept into Min's voice. "Damn it, Morn, you're talking, but you aren't telling me what I need to know."

She wanted to ask, demand, With a singularity grenade?

How in hell did he manage that? But she cautioned herself, No, keep it simple. Don't get distracted.

Deliberately she pushed her ire down.

"Never mind, Ensign. Free Lunch is something else I'll ask you about later.

"What's your condition? Have you lost anyone besides Captain Succorso and Sib Mackern?"

Why are you coasting? Who's really in command there?

Morn responded with another maddening silence.

Min allowed herself to rap the communications console with the knuckles of one fist—

a small outlet for her tension.

"For a mere ensign," Dolph observed dryly, "that woman is certainly mistrustful of her superior officers."

She glared at him. "We gave Succorso those priority-codes," she retorted. Hell, we sold her to him in the first place. So he would go along with one of Hashi's misbegotten plots. "How much do you expect her to trust us?"

"That's a good question." Captain Ubikwe adjusted his bulk against the arm of his g-seat. "You called this 'Warden Dios' game.' Do you think she knows whose side she's on?

Do you think she or that cyborg or any one of them has a clue what Director Dios wants them to do?"

Min didn't reply. She held herself ready for Morn's response.

The speakers emitted a whisper of static.

"Director Donner," Morn's voice said, still muffled by her personal distance, "what are your intentions? You have us on targ. Are you planning to open fire?"

The ED director swallowed a hot protest. "That depends," she snapped back, "on whether you try to get away again."

Who in hell do you think I am?

Now Morn spoke without delay. She'd already made this decision. "We can't," she returned flatly. "Our drives are dead."

Still she contrived to supply answers without telling Min what she needed to know.

Captain Ubikwe looked quickly at scan.

Porson shrugged. "It's probably true, Captain. I can't see anything that says otherwise. Her guns aren't charged, that's for sure."

"What if she's faking?" Dolph suggested. "What if she shut down her drives, and now she risks cold ignition?"

This time Min made Morn wait. For a moment she wanted to hear what was being said around her.

The scan officer's face showed a perplexed frown. "1

can't imagine what good that would do her, Captain. Thrust will be unstable while her tubes are cold. She'll hardly be able to maneuver until the tubes heat. That'll give us plenty of warning. We can probably react to whatever she does."

"We already have her at point-blank range, Captain,"

Glessen put in without being asked. "I don't think I could miss if I wanted to."

"Don't jump to conclusions, targ," Dolph warned sharply. "She may be telling the truth. Stranger things have happened.

"What about her gap drive, Bydell?" he pursued. "Can she get away from us if she just uses thrust to power her into tach?"

Bydell's eyes widened at the idea. She seemed to find it frightening. "Not until her thrust stabilizes, Captain," she said hurriedly. "Otherwise it'll be like hitting the gap at random. If she can't generate reliable hysteresis, she can't be sure she'll ever resume tard."

"And as I say, Captain," Porson repeated, "we'll get plenty of warning."

Min had heard enough. She turned her attention back to the communications pickup.

"Listen to me, Ensign Hyland. We're talking to each other, but we aren't getting anywhere. We need to do better.

"You've been through quite an ordeal. And you probably think you have good reason not to trust me. I understand that.

So let's not make this any harder than it has to be. Tell me what you want us to do."

Tell me how I can keep you from fighting me.

Apparently Morn was done with hesitation—

at least for

the moment. Her answer returned from the speakers almost at once. "Drop targ," she said clearly. "Drain your matter cannon. Stop treating us like the enemy."

Min raised her head as if she'd been stung; faced Captain Ubikwe across the bridge.

She expected umbrage: instead he rolled his eyes humorously. "Hell, Min," he drawled, "if she thinks this is how we treat the enemy, she should see us when we're in dock."

The fire in Min's palms was as acute as a decompression klaxon, warning her of trouble. Morn's attitude didn't make sense to her. Trumpet's drives were dead: the gap scout was helpless; doomed. Under the circumstances, what sane ship would insist on trying to bargain with her rescuers? What in hell did Morn think she had to bargain with?

Nevertheless Min put on authority as if it were confidence.

"Just do it, Captain," she ordered.

He gave an exaggerated sigh; but he didn't argue. "You heard the Director, Glessen. Cancel targ. Drain the guns. At least we don't have to worry about Free Lunch anymore."

"Aye, Captain," Glessen muttered disapprovingly.

"We're relying on you, Porson," Dolph went on. "If that damn ship lets out so much as one flicker of drive emission, I want to hear about it."

"I'm on it, Captain," the scan officer promised.

Min bent to the pickup again. "We're complying now, Ensign Hyland," she said acerbically. "Watch scan. You'll see I'm telling the truth."

For half a minute the bridge speakers brought in nothing from the void except random particle noise. The silence seemed hollow, devoid of life; vaguely ominous. Then Morn's voice returned.

"Thank you, Director Donner." She sounded faint with relief or dread. "That helps."

Then she sighed audibly. "There's just one more thing."

"No, Ensign Hyland," Min snapped. She meant to be cautious, but she'd come to the end of her patience. "Now it's my turn." Morn's palpable suspicion grated on her nerves—

perhaps because she knew she deserved it. "I'm trusting you.

It's time for you to trust me. Then we'll consider whatever it is you want next."

Morn sighed again. "I'm listening."

Gritting her teeth, Min ordered, "Stop broadcasting Vector Shaheed's formula."

Morn made a hissing sound—

indignation or dismay.

Again Min thought she could hear a male voice swearing in the background.

Dolph cocked an eyebrow at Min, pursed his mouth. Apparently he hadn't expected this. He was caught up in the needs of his ship; hadn't thought beyond the immediate situation.

When Morn spoke again, her voice was closer: as acute as a knife. It flayed bitterly from the speakers.

"Why am I not surprised? You've been suppressing this drug ever since it was developed. You took it away from Intertech, and now you're keeping it to yourself. You would rather use it for a few covert operations once in a while than make it public and take the risk it might actually scare the Amnion into a retreat. Because"—

Min tried to interrupt, but

Morn overrode her—

"if the Amnion backed off, the UMCP

wouldn't be so crucial. And then people might start asking questions about you."

"Stop that, Ensign Hyland," Min commanded harshly.

"You're talking about Data Acquisition, not Enforcement Division. I don't play those games."

She probably wouldn't be playing Warden's game right now if he'd ever told her what it was.

"I swear to you on my honor as the Enforcement Division director that I am not going to suppress Shaheed's transmission. I have no intention of suppressing it.

"Even if Director Dios orders me directly to bury it," she added for emphasis, "I can't do it. VI has already heard it. It can't be suppressed."

She was confident Warden wouldn't give that order. But it didn't matter whether she was right or wrong. He wasn't here.

"Then why—

?" Morn began, then faltered to silence.

"Because," Min rasped, "it's too goddamn loud! You can't control who's going to hear it. You say Free Lunch is dead. Fine—

I hope you're right. But what if some illegal picks it up and decides to come after a prize like that? What if Calm Horizons swings around this way and uses it to locate you?

"We've got damage over here, Ensign Hyland. We can't protect you. We're in no condition for another battle.

"Turn it off," she finished with all her authority. "Turn it off now."

Don't force me to board you at gunpoint. Don't make me take you prisoner. You deserve better.

Dolph nodded to Min, showing her that he understood.

Glancing around the bridge, he remarked generally, "Makes sense to me," just in case any of his people agreed with Morn.

Min whitened her knuckles on the butt of her handgun and waited for a response.

When Morn answered, her voice sounded more distant than ever: she might have been whispering. For no apparent reason, she asked, "Do you remember my parents, Director Donner?"

Min's eyes widened. What? Your parents?

She recalled them vividly. Not because she had Hashi's eidetic memory: she didn't remember faces or names well. To some extent her ferocious loyalty to her own people was an attempt to compensate for a lack in herself. But years of service overcame that inadequacy. And men and women whose names or faces she sometimes forgot while they worked for her were unalterably etched in her mind by death.

Morn was testing her in some way she didn't understand.

She wasn't a woman who hesitated under pressure, however. "Your father was Captain Davies Hyland," she replied promptly, "commander, UMCP destroyer Starmaster. He died with his ship while he was hunting Angus Thermopyle in the Com-Mine belt. You probably consider yourself responsible.

And your mother was Bryony Hyland, targ second, UMCP

cruiser Intransigent. She died saving her ship during an engagement with an illegal armed with super-light proton cannon.

"I delivered a whole satchel full of commendations and decorations for her in person when you were just a kid." Min scowled at the memory. She hated all the duties that fell to her when her people died. For that reason she never shirked them.

"The way I remember it, you refused to look at them. You were too angry to let someone like me comfort you."

Is that it? Is that really what you want to know?

Maybe it was. Out of the void Morn breathed softly,

"What I remember is that they trusted you."

Cray adjusted the receiver in her ear. She didn't look at Min: her eyes were busy tracking signals on her board.

Abruptly she jerked up her head. "They did it, Captain!

They've stopped broadcasting."

Min began a low sigh of relief—

and realized suddenly

that she wasn't relieved at all. If anything, her nerves burned hotter. An intuitive alarm she couldn't name squalled in her head. There was danger here—

What danger? Trumpet's drives were dead: she couldn't charge her guns; couldn't avoid Punisher. And this whole sector of space was empty of other ships.

Morn's distrust ran deep. Why had she acquiesced?

Angus killed her with a singularity grenade.

If he could do that, he could do damn near anything.

No! Min told herself grimly. It didn't make sense. Any singularity which could threaten Punisher would swallow Trumpet as well. The gap scout's people had fought and suffered all this way from Billingate for no apparent purpose except to make DA's antimutagen public. They wouldn't com-mil suicide now—

not for the small satisfaction of damaging Enforcement Division.

She looked over at Dolph. His expression was speculative, searching; but he didn't offer any comment.

No one else said anything. The bridge crew knew even less about what was going on than she did.

"We've complied, Director Donner," the speakers announced unnecessarily. "Now it's my turn."

Did Morn sound scared? Or was that just more suspicion?

"What else do you want?" Min asked the pickup. How much more do you think you can get away with?

Morn had her answer prepared.

"There are six of us." Her voice seemed to resonate softly across the gap between the ships, hinting at threats.

"Mikka and Ciro Vasaczk. Vector Shaheed. Davies Hyland.

Angus Thermopyle." If she was scared, she didn't falter or flinch. "I want you to take us aboard."

Min's whole body tightened in surprise.