Easy to Be a God, page 29
For this reason, the colonel ordered to cut off two more arms in the sectors adjacent to the closed area. As a result, the visiting senators would have access to another sixteen shafts—which should prevent potential queues in case of the VIPs; the comfort of the crew, of course, was of no concern to anybody. To ensure complete safety of the guests, it was necessary to block all exits leading from the residential area to the technical level—and this was, among other things, what the punished soldiers were doing.
The outer hatch opened soundlessly. A few clouds of steam floated into the cylindrical corridor when Henryan was leaving the airlock. He took two steps, then stopped since a giant humanoid robot stood in his way. One of the machines tending to hydroponics farms, currently idle. Darski looked around uneasily, but besides it he didn’t notice anything or anyone.
Tregvas walked past him casually.
“What do you think you’re doing, Corporal?” Darski asked, confused. “I’m working in the corridor! You were supposed to take care of the arm …”
The corporal did not even stop.
“Orders from on high. The conversation gonna take a while, and we don’t want you to get into any more trouble. I’ll do the first of your shafts, and then take care of my own. I can be quick,” he added defensively.
“Hold it right there!” Darski warned him. “Don’t piss me off, Corporal. Go back immediately!”
“But—”
“But me no buts.”
“As you wish, Sergeant.” Tregvas shrugged. “I just wanted to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” Henryan grumbled.
The damn fool was close to discovering that the shafts assigned to Henryan had already been secured.
“Where is this ‘someone more important’ of yours?” he asked.
Tregvas, still sulking, replied after a long pause, “Activate the robot …”
Darski leaned forward, put the toolbox aside, and then pressed the red button on the plastic giant’s torso. The displays built into its skeleton began to come to life. Thirty seconds later, the robot straightened with a fluid movement.
“Good evening, Sergeant,” a mechanical, impersonal voice came from the speakers in Henryan’s suit.
Whoever was speaking through this machine, they took the precaution of hiding their identity.
A smart move, Darski thought.
“I don’t have much time,” he said. “Let’s cut to the chase.”
“Do you know why I wanted to see you?”
“More or less.”
A strange sound coming from the speakers could have been a sigh. Or anything else, including ordinary interference.
“No more petty games. In four days the orders of the Supreme Council of Gurdu’dihan will reach the most important sithus, and the final stage of the crusade against Suhurs will begin. We can’t passively watch the disappearance of one of the three intelligent races in the known Universe. We’re prepared to do whatever it takes to prevent its destruction. We can sacrifice a lot—”
“Me, for example,” Henryan interjected sharply.
“No, it’s not that at all,” the conspirator denied in a mechanical voice. “Louismail was one of us. But he worked of his own free will. It was him who came up with the idea of supplying weapons to the Warriors of the Bone, and he put it into practice. Unfortunately, he got caught, and now we need your help—”
The conspirator stopped short and finished after a moment’s pause. “Without you, all our work done so far will go to waste.”
“Good, my mysterious friend. This will probably be for the best.” Darski changed the setting of the servomotors in his suit; he could now sit in it comfortably. “I’ve got you to worry about, not to mention the esdees and the investigation team of the old man. There is not a single moment when I’m not under surveillance. If you want to talk to me, you have to resort to tricks like this. Can’t you see, man, that I’m not able to help you now?”
“You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not wrong!” Henryan burst out. “And what’s more, I’m not going to be another Seifert.”
“It’s not what we’re after,” the conspirator assured him.
“Really?” Darski asked ironically. “Then what is it that you are after?”
“Help. Nothing more.”
“Right. If I help you, I’ll get a one-way ticket. To a place worse than hell. I know what I’m talking about, because I dropped by there once. It was on my way …”
“We’ll make sure this won’t happen again.”
One more of their empty promises.
“You will make sure …” Darski snorted. “And if something goes wrong, you’ll apologize sincerely again.”
The Gods’ leader didn’t reply. Darski reached for the keyboard to activate the servomotors. He had wasted enough time.
“Wait.” The mechanical voice came from the speakers again. “You don’t know the whole truth about us, or about the case. You’ve heard only as much as the brass has told you, and the bigwigs are not a very reliable source.”
“Go ahead, you have an opportunity to enlighten me here and now,” Henryan said impatiently.
“I can’t.”
“You see?”
“By providing you with this information, I would put too many decent people at risk.”
“Are you suggesting I should help you, not having a clue what I am doing, and why?”
“I did not say that.”
“Is that so? Because I just heard it.”
“It’s more complicated than you think. Although you are right about one thing. We need your help, and we can give a lot in return. But that’s not all. You should know that Rutta doesn’t play fair with you.”
“Really?”
“I’ve seen your file—”
“So what?” Darski interrupted him. “Looks like only Godbless has no idea who she’s dealing with whenever she talks to the command center.”
“Rutta will get rid of you as soon as he doesn’t need you anymore.”
Henryan laughed out loud.
“Can you prove it?”
“I can.”
“But you won’t.”
“I will.”
“Go ahead, feel free to …” Henryan paused. He had to wait for the reply.
“Tomorrow you’ll get a message with access codes to some proprietary databases. You can check the colonel’s correspondence yourself. Rutta needed someone who would obey him implicitly, that’s why he contacted primarily penal colonies and prisons. This way, he found you. You suit his needs perfectly, but you can be sure that as soon as he is done with you, he’ll send you back where you came from.”
“And here’s where you are wrong,” Darski said without hesitation. “I’m never going to return to the Sturgeon Belt.”
“Have a look at Rutta’s correspondence and you’ll see which of us is wrong.”
“It won’t be easy,” Henryan noticed.
“I know. But I trust in you. You figured Annelly out, even though she thought she could outsmart the system. You did well, I have to admit. If you’d pressed Zaitsev, instead of proving to us how good you are, this meeting would be different. I wouldn’t be so cautious.”
“You hope this camouflage will protect you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The answer was short and decisive.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Annelly is like a child: she loves to play hare and hounds, but doesn’t see the bigger picture. I do things differently.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t trace you. Like everybody, you leave a trail. One just has to know how to find it in the information noise.”
“So go play detective, Sergeant. I warn you, however, that this time the noise will be overwhelming. You won’t hear anything meaningful in it. Let me spare you more sleepless nights. The bot, through whom I’m speaking to you, is connected to one thousand four hundred terminals in six sectors of the rim, not to mention hundreds of other devices in the hub.”
“A few days’ search—”
“That’s right. A few days of hard work would give the answer, but you’d have to harness the station’s mainframes, and that you can’t do. If you try to trace me using homemade means, you won’t discover the truth in time.”
Henryan was silent for a long moment. He couldn’t deny it: there were only a few days left to the final battle, and Rutta and Valdez would whale into him, had they noticed that he was scheming again.
“We’ll have a chat after I’ve seen the files,” he said in the end.
“Fine. Let Tregvas know when you’re ready for the next meeting. Just remember: the time is running out.”
Darski checked the anchoring of the safety line for a third time, and then pressed the red button, opening the outer hatch of the last airlock. One movement of the arm propelled him into the immense black void. The elastic cord, with which he was attached to the hull of the station, yielded smoothly and stopped him a moment later. He felt a slight tug, after which he began to approach the rim. The maneuvering thrusters allowed him to turn around, and after a while the magnetic soles of his shoes adhered to the porous surface of the giant hub.
He took a few awkward steps, leaned over and checked the guideways. On the trolley of the third one he saw a symbol of the main antenna. He strapped himself to the handle with a snap hook, and a moment later, released the magnet hook of the safety line. He lowered it gently onto the anchor field, and when the flat base of the electromagnet hemisphere touched the polished metal, he tugged it three times to make sure it held firmly.
Everything was in perfect order, so he could start the propelling nozzle and go. Hovering above a small cart, he glided along the guideway leading toward the antenna several hundred yards away. The ride lasted long enough for him to be able to reflect on his bleak situation.
The conversation with the Gods’ leader shocked him to the core; much more than he had expected. It also compelled him to reflect on what he should do next. He was afraid to live further in the shadow of guilt, which was overwhelming him increasingly. But being genetically conditioned to struggle for survival, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to surrender to depression, although it still got the better of him, like when he stood up to Security Department. He didn’t care then whether he would survive—no, he even preferred to die at the hands of this sadist so he wouldn’t have to think anymore. He was ready to take a lot of shit if only that would keep him away from the Sturgeon Belt, and he knew that if anyone tried to send him back there—be it Gods, Rutta, or one of the esdees—they would be in for a surprise.
He had thought until recently, apparently very naively, that there was a light in this tunnel, and that the only chance for him to regain full freedom would be to show absolute obedience to the colonel. Instead—if there were a kernel of truth in the words that he’d heard in the technical corridor—even this guaranteed his return to the penal colony, no matter how the confrontation with Gods would go. Getting rid of the esdees had changed nothing. And he couldn’t blackmail Rutta in a similar manner.
What options am I left with then, assuming Gods don’t lie? he thought. Only to leave, he realized after a moment. If so, I will leave with such a bang that the entire known Universe will hear about me.
But then his voice of reason kicked in. First, he thought, I should check whether the leader of Gods indeed didn’t lie …
He smiled to himself. Despite appearances to the contrary, the conspirators reached him at a perfect moment.
The cart began to slow down. Darski was nearing an oblong base to which a bunch of long antenna masts was attached. The guideway turned ninety degrees here, in a long gentle curve, and ran on up to the top of the longest of the masts. His goal, however, was much lower, just above the base of the structure. When the cart stopped, Henryan loosened the cord slightly, moved over the module of the connector and fastened himself to it with two snap hooks. It was only after he’d triple-checked the safety lines that he turned off the electromagnets supporting a package with the console of a portable comlink, strapped to the left leg of his suit, and he plugged the device into one of the sockets.
He waited several seconds, letting the console perform all the tests, and when a line of green lights lit up, he pressed a square button activating the transmitter. A millisecond signal emanated from the antenna, and raced at the speed of light toward the nanobots left by Seifert in the caves. A moment later, feedback messages appeared on the console screen.
Darski smiled. Mission accomplished. He unplugged the console, looked around, then took a wide swing and hurled it into space.
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE XAN 4 SYSTEM, X-RAY SECTOR
09/14/2354
Hakrad Redo-Tele crouched by the fire to warm up his cold hands. Serving by the altars on the plateau, he rarely had the opportunity to participate in a ritual designed to propitiate gods. Once or twice, he happened to make an offering of a few Quadrupeds, but it never took so long.
The larger of the suns was setting down when the fist of Temeh Dokru-Kume brought more prisoners to Bor Omot. The priest looked at the young Warrior of the Bone, standing on the other side of the flames. Six of his comrades already hung in the cages. The last member of their fist should join them in a moment.
Hakrad Redo-Tele rose slowly, leaning on his arad, and then went toward the ledge. Rekne Tare retreated with respect to the mouth of the cave, and folded his hands behind his back.
“It’s time,” the priest said.
“Dakko Turi!”
Out of the darkness emerged a hunched and long-limbed figure of a young Warrior of the Bone from the fist that was supposed to replace the immolators. Rekne Tare, stocky, slightly limping with his right leg, and drenched in blue gore, took his clawed gloves off and threw them on the rock next to the six irregular stacks. A moment later, a shining bone armor followed them.
“Are you ready, Rekne Tare of the mighty Mare Deto-Zuri’s breeding?” the priest asked.
“As always!”
The arad went up, but before its tip fell on the stone, a loud rumble could be heard from the depths of the cave. Hakrad Redo-Tele froze.
“It’s a sign!” Rekne Tare called, running to the edge of the chasm. “Kraga Snaro! Kraga Snaro had an epiphany!”
The fister turned toward the rising warriors. “The Spirits of the Mountains heard our prayers!”
Everyone rushed toward the wooden structure with a cage of Kraga Snaro hanging at its end. Two Warriors of the Bone were already turning the winch, coiling the leather rope. But before they could move the wooden arm and liberate the exhausted comrade, out of the darkness came another rumble.
“It’s Reme Naro!” Rekne Tare informed everyone. “Reme Naro also received sanctifying grace!”
The priest nodded at him with the arad. “Free both of them, burn their wounds and bring them to me,” he ordered.
He went toward the fire, feeling a tremor in all his limbs. Here was coming the greatest moment in the history of Suhurta, and he was to be its witness and a eulogist, carrying the news to the rest of the clan. He crouched quickly, and put a stronger grip on his arad. He was ready to listen to the revelation.
Kraga Snaro and Reme Naro appeared together, led by the warriors from the Kire Tako-Dote’s fist. Both could barely stand on their feet, but they bravely refused to accept help.
“Open your membranes!” Hakrad Redo-Tele tapped his arad on the ground with all his strength, till the rocks echoed back.
“The Spirits of the Mountains have spoken … Your offerings have been accepted,” Kraga Snaro, exhausted, wheezed barely audibly.
“Gods have left you, but in the coming battle we will stand on your side,” Reme Naro, still wobbly on his feet, added even more softly.
There was silence. For several swellings of the membranes, the crackling fire was the only sound to be heard.
In the end, the priest stood up.
“Free the others,” he ordered, gesturing to the fister with a wave of his hand. “I’m off to the Triple Pierced Shield clan’s seat, to bring the news to the Supreme Suhur.”
“What about the rest of the prisoners?” Kire Tako-Dote asked, looming in the gathering twilight.
Hakrad Redo-Tele focused his attention on the pen, where a dozen fetuscarriers were held. He had hoped to gut them personally to the glory of the gods of Suns and Stars. Unfortunately, the Spirits of the Mountains thwarted his plans.
“Sacrifice them all,” he said, pointing to the slope where Suhurs, incessantly, were leading prisoners toward Bor Omot. “We will thank the Spirits of the Mountains for the favor they have shown us.”
When he was leaving the hill, wheezes of satisfaction were coming from all directions.
THIRTY-NINE
THE XAN 4 SYSTEM, X-RAY SECTOR
09/14/2354
Darski noticed that something was wrong as soon as he got off the train. The corridor in front of the command center was swarming with people in blue jumpsuits of the scientific department. Judging from their faces, they were very agitated. Many debated fiercely, waving their arms and readers. Also, by the bulkhead there were much more gendarmes than usual. They carefully scanned everyone who wanted to get inside.
Henryan passed through the checkpoints without inquiry and any problems whatsoever, and then headed straight to his workstation. His substitute was sitting by the console, clearly furious.
