“I could get through, sir.”
“So could I,” said the girl.
“You? How?”
Feirn laughed harshly. “Think any pubcom station would resist a beat like this one? Petly’ll wet his pants. Then he’ll call the Patrol for comment, right? And Petly can get high up, fast! I know—I’ve seen him do it.”
Messy! But it would suffice if only the girl escaped. And, of course, Blade’s mother was quartermaster at Hiport, so he might be able to get through to Weald or Phalo faster even than Vaun could. Infuriating, superhumanly efficient young upstart!
Another intersection…He went forward, and still saw no other pedestrians. How long could this luck last? Again he beckoned for his companions to join him. When they caught up with him, he said, “If we can get out, we scatter. If they have corns in their torches, then get through to Hiport as soon as you’re airborne!” The Sheerfire would be speedier than a torch, but its electronics were dead. Blade knew all that. Time would tell, maybe.
And there was going to be pepod trouble. The pepods would react to humans but not brethren. Time to think about pepods when they got out of the hive.
“They’re training the pepods to be a weapon, of course. Report that. And the Q ship. It’s going to look like a near-miss, but it’s not a rock, it’s a boat.”
“Unmanned, then,” Blade said.
“Yes, unmanned.”
“Told you that, sweetheart!” the girl said. “Didn’t I?”
“Yes, honey.”
“I said no one would send a Q ship across interstellar space just to give someone a bad fright twenty-five years in the future! You didn’t believe me, darling.”
Oh, Krantz! They were into the lovebird stage.
“Yes, I did, dear. Sir, we go right here.”
Vaun turned right without questioning. This tunnel sloped steeply upward, and it was pleasantly dim.
“The brethren are talking about
Armageddon
!” he said. “It’ll be a tin boat, not a rock. Or maybe a very small rock, able to take the tidals from a course correction at three hundred millies. So it’ll
seem
to be going to fly by, and then it’ll veer at the last minute and impact. My guess is that it’ll take out Hiport.”
The girl gasped. “But why, Vaun?”
“To destroy Ultian Command. No more central control. It will devastate the planet—earthquakes, no communications, no solar power, no harvests for years. Billions dying. Chaos and anarchy. I sent Weald a file—it’s all in there. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, Vaun.”
“
Back!
” He shoved; Blade wheeled and dragged the girl back with him to the sidetunnel they had just passed. Vaun carried on as if nothing had happened, climbing toward the two brethren who had just appeared up ahead. The lighting was dim—would they have noticed?
Apparently not. They were deep in talk, and passed him with vague nods. He turned off into the tunnel they had come from, then stopped and peered back around the corner until they had vanished. His knees were shaking. Time oozed by in drips of sweat as he waited for Blade to conclude that the coast was clear and follow. He was dismayed to realize how easily he had come to trust his self-appointed deputy.
Trust…Apocalypse…Meteor impact and pepod attack…Communication breakdown. Then famine and pestilence and civil war and breakdown of order…Petty warlords taking control with their own militias…
What leader could ever refuse an efficient, trustworthy subordinate? Or a fearless bodyguard, loyal to the death? Or ruthless mercenaries, genius advisers? Or officials utterly incorruptible, immune to both gold and girls? As deputies, the brethren would be irresistible and very soon make themselves indispensable in all the high places. If your opponent has one, then you must have one…Just intelligent cyborgs, of course, but very handy.
And in twenty years or so, the knives would turn in their users’ hands—all of them at the same instant. The Master Race would rule. The wild stock would be domesticated, and Ult would go silent. It had worked on Scyth, and perhaps on a thousand other worlds.
The two human fugitives emerged from their sidetunnel and came racing along to meet him. He held out the hammer so they would recognize him—even so, he noted that Blade took a hard look at the bruises that distinguished the one good brother. The traitor.
Without a word, they resumed their march, hurrying now with a shared sense of urgency. Time was running out. They must reach the torches before dawn.
More turns…more frantic dashes and pauses to peer around corners…Twice more they hid from wandering brethren. They must be close to the entrance now, and the hive seemed to be stirring into life. Blade’s memory of the route had been faultless.
And then they were all three jammed into a dead-end crevice, hardly breathing as a troop of four brothers went trudging by, muttering sleepily. Vaun suspected they were the night watch from the gate coming off duty. Pity…the replacements would be more alert. But the four had gone by and it was only a matter of minutes before the fugitives could try their break for freedom.
The boys stayed silent.
“Sweetheart?” Feirn whispered.
Blade said, “Dearest?” It was nauseating.
“What
good
are we going to do? If the Q ship is going to hit the world…I thought Q ships couldn’t be stopped?”
“This one can, I think. They can’t hit Hiport from Scyth.”
Good boy—he’d seen the one slim chance.
“Huh?”
“It probably can’t even hit the planet from seven elwies, and certainly not a bull’s-eye on Hiport, if the admiral is right and that’s its target. It’ll have to make a sighting.”
“I don’t follow.”
His voice was very low and patient, but he was talking to Vaun also. “It will have to shut off its fireballs for course confirmation. Maybe for only a minute or so, but when it does, it’s vulnerable. Right, sir?”
“Right. I hope that’s right.”
It was right in theory, and a tin boat was a lot more vulnerable to hardbeams than a rock, but it was going to call for some very, very nimble work by the Patrol.
It didn’t sound like Ultian Command, somehow. It would take everything the Patrol could put in the sky, and then some. Roker might have been able to organize it. Maybe Vaun himself could, if the Patrol would let him. Weald, Phalo…not too likely.
A hell of a slim chance, but it was all they had.
“Let’s go,” Vaun whispered. “Every boy—and girl—for himself. I’ll try for the gun rack. You two wait a minute, then sprint for the door, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kiss me, darling.”
Vaun left them to it.
He dropped the useless hammer, made sure the tunnel was empty, then stepped out into the passage and ran for the guard room.
T
RUST…THE WHOLE system was based on trust, the certainty that a boy was who he said he was.
On his arrival the previous day, he had seen no signs of electronic trickery. The hive’s only real defense was its enemies’ ignorance of its existence.
He strolled into the guardroom. Four boys were sitting there, muffled in blankets, reading books. They were amateurs in security, he assumed, specialists in other disciplines who had drawn an unwelcome tour of sentry duty in addition to their regular labors. That explained why they were all huddled together—unusual to find the Brotherhood being inefficient. They did not even look up at him.
“Prior,” he said, and walked over to the gun rack.
His Giantkiller was there, but there were two newer-seeming versions beside it in the rack, and he recalled Tan’s remark about those being lighter. He slung one on his shoulder, tucked a hand-beam into his belt, and turned to go. “How’s the weather out there?”
“Cold,” said a grumpy voice. “You’ll need a coat.”
Perhaps there was a password. Perhaps the light fell on his bruised face. Perhaps he walked like an admiral. One of the books clanked to the floor, one of the guards struggled to unwrap himself. “Hey! Aren’t you…” Moving in unconscious unison, they threw off their blankets and sprang from their chairs, not even glancing at one another—four of them, each one glaring at Vaun, each as good as he.
They were between him and the exit tunnel. He backed against the wall, holding them at bay with the Giantkiller. His own face repeated four times stared back at him in shock and horror.
“Stay where you are!” he barked, but it didn’t work.
At that moment Blade and Feirn sprinted in and dashed for the exit. The guards again moved like one, jumping to block them.
“
Stop!
”
This time everyone froze. Tableau. Standoff.
“Please, Brothers! Don’t make me kill you!”
Vaun was against one side wall, Blade and the girl against the other. The four brethren blocked the exit—White, Yellow, Red, Brown.
“Who’s Prior?” Vaun demanded. He felt sick. This wasn’t going to work.
“I am,” White said hoarsely. He stuck out his chin. “You will have to kill us, you know!” He sounded younger than he looked.
“I shall if I must. So why die needlessly? I can gun you down and we’ll get away and you’ll be dead. You go ahead of us. When we leave, I’ll not shoot you, I swear.”
If White moved first, it was by only a fraction of a second—all four took a step forward.
“Oh, stop that!” Vaun shouted. Sweat was running into his eyes.
“You can’t shoot your brothers!”
“I can. I did. I shot two on
Unity
!”
The guards gulped in horror. The whites of their eyes showed all around the irises.
Vaun had never told anyone that before. No one. Not even Maeve. And that time he had been out of his mind with fear. This was in cold blood.
“And I helped mind bleed Prior! I have a design fault, remember? That was what they decided last night, wasn’t it?”
He wished instantly that he had not asked that question. He did not
want
to know what had been decided after he left the hall.
Yellow took a deep breath, as if surprised. “No,” he said. “Never. We decided you’d been damaged, though.”
Blade tried a move, and Brown sidestepped to block him. Vaun shouted, “
Stop!
” again.
“Not your fault, Brother,” Yellow went on. He was the youngest, not quite an adult. Eighteen, maybe, but apparently the only one who’d been at the meeting. “But we decided we daren’t risk sending you back.”
“Kill me, you mean.” All this talk was crazy. Time was running out. Someone would come. Dawn would come. But he did want to know, really. Just in case.
White shook his head, and eased forward imperceptibly. “Brother doesn’t kill brother! Sending you back is too great a risk, but we want you to stay and help here.”
There was a jagged lump in Vaun’s throat. “Crap! Either you trust me or you don’t!”
“Listen!” White said urgently. His face was shining wet in the dim light of the glow lamps. “We do trust you, Brother, but we just don’t dare send you back. You’re welcome to stay with us, always! You’re one of us. You’ve suffered out there alone long enough, and been damaged, and we want you here in the hive. We need you here to advise us. Honored, and loved. I swear this on the Brotherhood.”
Krantz! It was so tempting, Vaun wanted to scream. He dared not look at Blade or the girl. His brothers. Really wanting him? Even
needing
him a little?
“You can’t trust me,” he muttered angrily. “Not now.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Brother,” White said gently. “Is it Die Day? Armageddon?”
“Maybe,” Vaun admitted. His hands were shaking.
“It’ll happen anyway! We can show you the numbers. Projections. The famines have started. Their whole ecology’s about to collapse.” White was pleading—why did he have to seem so infernally sincere? “I can’t lie to you, Brother, you know that! We’re certain: twenty years, maybe thirty…Total disaster! We can show you!”
“Mortality doesn’t excuse murder!”
“Ah!” Red shouted with relief. “It’s these two randoms! That’s it, isn’t it, Brother? You didn’t say they were your friends! You said to kill them. If that’s what’s bothering you, we’ll not hurt them, I’ll promise you that. I’ll promise my own life. It’s all I’ve got, but I swear I’ll put it ahead of theirs. Trust me, Brother.” The other three chorused agreement.
Vaun moaned. The gun was drooping in his hands, and trembling.
“You can’t put a couple of
them
ahead of the hive!” Brown protested. “One of them’s a female.”
Maeve’s daughter.
Vaun glanced at the two scared faces of the wilds and then hastily back at the brethren, as all four lurched forward a pace. He jerked the gun up and they stopped.
“It’s obvious that you’ve never been laid by an expert, sonny!”
Brown flinched. “No. No desire to…But if you need that, we won’t mind if you keep her.”
“
No!
” Feirn shouted. “Not me! I’m not the one he loves. He’s doing this for—”
Blade hushed her. He was clutching her tight with both arms, watching bleakly as their mutual future was decided.
“You can’t trust me ever again!” Vaun insisted.
Oh, tell me I’m wrong!
“I wasn’t lying about shooting brothers on the Q ship! I’m trying to escape now. How can you ever trust me in the future?”
“We love you, of course,” White said, “and expect you to love us. We’ll put a mark on you so we’ll know—”
“
A mark?
”
Vaun
yelled. “How could I be one of you if I had a
mark
on me? I’d be the One With the Mark, you idiot!” An outcast still. A stranger again. On, no! “An
X
on the forehead, perhaps? Offer declined! Now turn around and start marching out in good order!”
“We can’t!” White shouted. “We just can’t. You know that! We don’t want to be shot, and we believe you when you say you will, but we must be loyal to the hive. You ought to know that.”
He did know that. He’d known it all along. “Crazy defective artifacts!”
Raj, how often must I betray you?
Yellow, the youngest, sniffed loudly. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, but he wasn’t even looking to the others for guidance. He couldn’t shift his feet if that move would hurt the hive.