This Day All Gods Die (76 page)

If she had to confront humankind's future in person in order to affirm the results of her work—

"In that case," she told Hashi weakly, "you'd better order up a hypo of stim from the infirmary." She couldn't stop crying. "Otherwise I won't be able to stay on my feet."

Instead of returning to her console, she folded to the deck and covered her face with her hands.

sional pride, she refused to

cringe in shame and regret while President Len called the Council to vote on Cleatus Fane's proposal.

She'd failed in the worst possible way: her efforts to weaken the Dragon's grip on the GCES—

and the UMCP—

had only made it stronger. Cleatus had outplayed her. In the end, everything Warden had dreamed or desired would die because Holt Fasner's people served him more effectively than she served Warden.

What could she have done? she asked herself over and over again. The question was important to her. She had no evidence. Nevertheless she could hardly face Members like Sixten Vertigus, Blaine Manse, and Tel Burnish. She couldn't rid herself of the conviction that there must have been some way she could have made a difference.

Still nothing came to her. No desperate gesture or extravagant appeal would work now. The simple truth was that she'd failed. Cleatus would win. And the consequences for humankind's future would be devastating.

Poor Abrim had wanted her to succeed: his extraordinary assertiveness made that obvious. Morn's plight had touched a source of unexpected strength in him. And even now he did whatever he could to postpone the inevitable debacle. After the FEA's proposal had been moved and seconded, he insisted on hearing its precise language for the record. That took a few moments. Then he launched a slow, tedious roll-call vote, asking the Members one at a time by name where they stood; announcing their positions back to them; logging the tally in the Council's official minutes. Despite the urgency of the situation—

and Fane's fuming impatience—

he led the Members

on a weary trudge through the procedure of Warden's ruin.

Koina admired the attempt, but she knew it was wasted.

The tally had already reached eight: six in favor, one opposed, one abstention. As soon as the count on Holt's side reached eleven, a simple majority, he could take the vote as law, even if Abrim required all the remaining Members to commit themselves.

She was vaguely surprised by that one nay. It came from Sigurd Carsin, the UWB Junior Member. Captain Vertigus was her Senior Member; but for years she'd opposed him as if she considered his criticisms of the UMC and Holt Fasner contemptible. Apparently, however, she'd re-evaluated her allegiances. After casting her vote, she'd reached over and touched Sixten's shoulder as if she wanted to express commiseration or support.

That small, unexpected victory should have meant something to Koina, but she no longer had the energy to appreciate it. Her waning resources were fixed on the cruel task of sustaining her facade while each vote drove Fane's stake deeper into the heart of the UMCP she wished to serve.

There were now seven in favor and two abstentions. So far no one had joined Sigurd Carsin.

At Koina's side Cleatus seethed in silence. As far as she could tell, he wasn't using his throat pickup. Apparently one of his techs had the job of reporting the vote's progress. If the Dragon spoke to him, he showed no reaction. Instead he watched the Members—

and especially President Len—

with a

corrosive glare which seemed to promise trouble for his opponents.

Sixten looked like he was asleep, overtaken by age and defeat. Tel Burnish and Blaine Manse hadn't voted yet. Neither had Punjat Silat. They might bring the total opposed to five. But that was nowhere near enough. And who else would join them? Who had the courage? Vest Martingale, perhaps: her outrage might carry her. On the other hand, the UMC was the majority shareholder in Com-Mine Station—

Eight in favor. Maxim Igensard delivered Sen Abdullah's proxy in a voice that shook with disappointed fervor.

Koina began to think that she should excuse herself; leave the room before the end. Then she would be able to grieve in peace. But her duty called her to witness this slow death: the incremental murder of humankind's hope. She remained where she was while her heart brimmed over with desolation.

She hardly reacted when one of her techs shifted toward her, touched her arm.

"Director," the woman whispered, "I'm getting a call from Lane Harbinger."

Koina stared straight ahead while her brain limped to comprehend. Lane—

? She didn't recognize the name. Or did

she? It left a tingle she couldn't identify somewhere in her tired synapses. One of Center's officers, probably, calling to ask her some painful question, or to give her more bad news.

"Dr. Lane Harbinger," the tech prompted, covering her urgency. "She works for DA."

DA—

?

As if by magic, Koina remembered the "precise tone of Hashi's voice when he'd asked her, Are you acquainted with Lane Harbinger? They'd been aboard her shuttle from UMCPHQ, on their way to hear Sixten's Bill of Severance fail. For his own obscure reasons, Hashi had remarked, You have much in common.

"She wants to address the Council," the tech explained tensely.

Without transition, an eerie sense of dislocation took over Koina. She no longer seemed to have any control over her own behavior. In fact, she might have sworn that she took no part in it. As far as she knew, she was asking her tech—

or herself

—

What for? Doesn't she know how important this is? I'm surprised Center gave her a channel.

According to Hashi, Lane had uncovered some tiny but significant bit of information about Godsen Frik's murder. Apparently she'd been able to determine that the SOD-CMOS

chip of the kaze's presumably faked id tag contained current GCES Security source-code—

a detail which Hashi had con-

sidered almost preternaturally fascinating. Koina couldn't remember why.

But all that was beside the point. Traces of evidence left behind by Godsen's killer had no relevance here. No scrap of source-code, however suggestive, could avert Warden's downfall.

So what in God's name did Lane want?

Nevertheless Koina asked none of those questions. Her thoughts had no connection to what she did. Her body had reasons of its own. As if it belonged to someone else, it leaped upright instantly; flailed its arms for Abrim's attention.

While her brain struggled with its confusion, her mouth called out, "President Len!"

To her dismay, she didn't have the slightest idea what she meant to say.

"Director Hannish!" Cleatus blared at her like a decompression klaxon. "Sit down!"

He was right, of course. She was out of order; had no business speaking; she'd already failed. Stricken with shame, she sank back to her seat—

—

while her body remained on its feet. Her limbs balanced themselves like a fighter's, as if she intended to strike anyone who interfered with her. "President Len!" she called again. "You have to hear this!"

Cleatus swore viciously at her back. Several of the Members tried to shout her down. Sixten raised his head to give her a bleary, baffled stare. She ignored everyone except Abrim; everything except the expression on his face.

Christ, what was she doing? In another minute she would be ejected from the room. Abrim wouldn't have any choice.

He'd threatened to have Cleatus removed: for the sake of consistency, if not for some better reason, he would feel compelled to carry out his threat on her.

At first, however, he was too surprised to censure her interruption. "Hear what?" he asked with a perplexed frown.

Koina didn't know that. She didn't know anything.

She must have known. Otherwise how could she have answered?

"Mr. President," she announced, "Dr. Lane Harbinger is on my downlink from UMCPHQ." Her voice held firm despite her bewilderment. "She works in Data Acquisition. She wants to address the Council."

Abrim groaned a protest. "Director Hannish, you can't do this." Angry, exhausted regret filled his face. "We're in the middle of a vote, for God's sake!" His mouth twisted as if he wanted to spit out something that tasted nasty. "We've already allowed you to say everything we can stand to hear.

Now you have to let us finish. While there's still time."

Time: that was the problem. Koina needed to understand herself, but she couldn't; she'd run out of time—

Then she did.

Time. Of course. The linchpin of Cleatus' persuasion: the goad he'd used to drive his proposal forward. For his master's reasons, if not his own, he was frantic to beat the deadline of the command module's dock with Calm Horizons.

At that moment her dislocation passed.

Aboard her shuttle wasn't the only time she'd heard Hashi talk about Lane. He'd also mentioned the researcher during that last meeting with Warden Dios, when he, Koina, and Chief Mandich had met in one of the UMCP director's private offices.

Lane was involved in the investigation of Nathan Alt.

With a rush Koina caught the inference she'd missed earlier; grasped the argument she should have presented.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President," she stated firmly. "It's not an important vote. In fact, it's meaningless."

The President's jaw dropped. Maxim blustered a contradiction. Several of the Members who'd already voted yelled at her.

While Cleatus summoned a blast of denial, Koina explained, "The whole thrust of Mr. Fane's proposal is that Warden Dios is under suspicion of treason, and we can't afford to let an accused traitor make deals with the Amnion for us—

deals that could affect humankind's entire future." With the intensity of a shout, she proclaimed, "But Warden Dios isn't making any deals. Morn Hyland has done that. She told us so herself. And she's going to keep right on doing it, no matter who the UMCP director is, or who issues the orders.

"You heard her," Koina insisted. "She doesn't recognize any authority except her own.

"As Mr. Fane pointed out, she obviously hasn't revealed the whole truth about her dealings with Calm Horizons. If she won't even tell us what her intentions are, she certainly won't change them simply because we've replaced Warden Dios.

"The First Executive Assistant's proposal doesn't need to be voted into law right now. It's just not that crucial. It won't make any immediate difference."

At once Cleatus bounded to his feet, bristling in outrage.

His PCR seemed to fill his head with pain. Or fear.

"That's preposterous!" he yelped. "Mr. President, this is obviously a desperate—

"

Koina raised her voice to carry over him. Clarion and sure, she trumpeted, "UMCPHQ Center would not have assigned Lane Harbinger a channel—

and Acting Director Don-

ner certainly wouldn't have authorized it—

if what she wants to

say weren't vitally important. This Council needs to hear her!

"We've been debating extreme accusations for hours. If you asked me to guess," she finished, "I would say that Dr.

Harbinger wants to give evidence."

President Len bowed his head as if he couldn't carry the weight of his dismay.

Before Abrim could reply, Cleatus started again. Like a burst of impact fire, he barked, "This is obviously a desperate and irresponsible attempt to interfere with the will of the Council. It's a ploy, Mr. President. While we've been dragging out this interminable vote, Director Hannish has been in contact with UMCPHQ. No doubt she's asked them to arrange some kind of disruption. To save Dios' hide, of course.

"Lane Harbinger, for God's sake," he sneered with scalding indignation. "One of Director Lebwohl's stooges.

Clearly this is the best they could cobble together on short notice.

"Listen to her, if you think it's worth the effort." He flapped his arms as if he were done. "Go ahead. I'm curious myself." Then he yelled with such vehemence that he seemed to knock plaster off the walls, "But finish the goddamn vote first!"

The struggle on Abrim's features was painful to watch.

He'd already exerted more force during this session than in all the years of his tenure put together. By nature—

and perhaps

by conviction—

he favored conciliation, compromise. That was how he held on to his office. A more commanding president would have been voted out long ago, forced to step aside by the Dragon's vast constituency.

But today he'd faced down Cleatus Fane; bent Maxim Igensard to his authority—

The effort had left him in a state

approaching nervous prostration.

He held the sides of the podium so tightly that Koina could see his elbows quivering. His mace lay in front of him, forgotten. Sweat on his upper lip caught the light like beads of misery.

"Members—

" he began; then faltered and fell silent.

She watched in horrified suspense as he strained to recover. If he collapsed, who would take over? As a body the GCES determined precedence by rotation rather than senior-ity. Whose turn was it? She couldn't remember.

Abruptly one of her techs stood. The woman was pale and wide-eyed, frightened by her own temerity. Nevertheless she was determined to speak.

"Mr. President," she reported meekly, "Dr. Harbinger insists that what she has to say is of the utmost importance.

She swears that if you don't hear her you'll never forgive yourself."

Then she sat down; composed herself like a woman who wished she had someplace to hide.

Koina nodded in silent approval. Apparently she wasn't the only one who wanted UMCPPR to do its job right.

President Len tried again. "Members—

" His voice was a

hoarse whisper, raw with strain. "I will allow this interruption.

We'll continue voting after we've heard Dr. Harbinger."

"By God!' Cleatus roared; then cut himself off; staggered; clapped a hand to his ear as if his PCR had started screaming at him. For a moment he groped around him, unable to find his balance. Then he seemed to steady himself by sheer force of will. Turning his back, he withdrew to his seat.