by Zach Hughes
The God Fleet Admiral Torga Bluntz had spoken in the way of the priests of Dorchlunt, using the centuries of tradition and discipline to order thecream of the young men of Dorchlunt to kill eachother in the name of that perverted and polytheistic system of belief which had been originally instituted by Torga Bluntz.
But Pat Howe, impersonating the God Fleet Admiral Torga Bluntz, stood with his eyes full oftears as men died and hysterical voices screamedon the fleet's communication frequency and theodd ship or two zapped out of formation, andthe glow of direct disrupter hits left the new andexpensive toys of the
dictator Brenden lifeless hulksin space, all electronics fused, all life gone.
And Pat Howe prayed. He hadn't prayed in awe and fear and pain in a long, long time, not since hehad been a child, but now he prayed to the oneGod who had created it all, saying, "Let there belight." He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed thathe had been right. He prayed that the lives ofthose young Dorchlunters had not been sacrificed in vain.
It began with the minute hand of the bridgechronometer at seven minutes past the hour. Atnine minutes thirty seconds past the hour the twofleets fell silent. The initial exchange of disrupterfire had killed almost two thousand ships, andthose few left alive continued to fire. The gunnershad no way of knowing, short of seeing the glowof a hit, which ships were alive or dead, and sothose who survived kept spraying the disrupters up and down lines and ranks and then began topick off the few ships trying to break formation, and one by one the survivors died, until there wereonly two disrupters firing, and those two sweptthe blasted ships again and again until Pat picked up the communicator and said, "Gorben, Werner,enough."
Corinne had a look of horror on her face, a lookwhich came nearer to not being beautiful than Patcould ever have imagined. The fire-control officer, Kelly, was half crouched over his console, lookingfirst toward Pat, then toward the computer readout on the screen.
The gunner, Werner, appeared on the bridge.And at that moment Kelly yelled something totally incomprehensible and reached for his side-arm. He did not have time to clear it from theholster before Werner's hand beam left a smokinghole in his uniform. The other crew members onthe bridge, stunned, not knowing exactly what had happened, were dead before Pat could say, again,"Enough, Werner."
"I will see to the others, Holiness," Werner said.
"Don't kill them," Pat said. "Take their weaponsand lock them up."
"Sir," Werner barked, and was gone.
Corinne's eyes were unbelievably wide. Shelooked at Pat. One hand was up, two fingers pressedagainst her upper lip. She screamed once, and alook of agony was there as she ran to the communicator.
"Brenden, Brenden," she cried, her voice strained."Brendennnnnn," she wailed, and fell limply into the chair.
"Admiral," said a young, tense voice on thecommunicator.
Pat stood across the console from Corinne. Shedidn't look up at him.
"Admiral Bluntz here, Gorben. You may report."
"I have taken the ship, Holiness."
"Very well," Pat said.
"Brenden," Corinne whispered.
"And the Brenden?" Pat asked.
"He is here, Holiness."
"Let him speak," Pat said. He handed the communicator to Corinne. "Brenden?" she whispered. "I'm here, Cory." The voice was not the ebullient one of old. "Oh, Brenden," Corrinne sobbed. "Yes, you can sure pick'em, little sister," Brendensaid. "Pat, you there?" "I'm here," Pat said. "What now?" the Brenden asked. "I want Gorben off your ship," Pat said. "Then me, huh?" Brenden said, his meaning clear. "Then you're free to go," Pat said. "Go? Go where?" "Back to Taratwo," Pat said. "And what about you, little sister?" Brendenasked. "Were you with him?" "No, no," Corinne sobbed. "Does she go with me?" Brenden asked. "That's up to her," Pat said. He looked at her.He felt a great sense of loss, for her eyes blazedwith hate. Her sobs ceased. "You—you—do you actuallythink . . ." "I can only hope," Pat said. "But I guess love isn't that powerful, is it?" Before she could answer, Werner was back, asmile on his face. "The crew is neutralized, Holiness," he
said proudly, snapping into a salute. It was in that position that he died. He died with alaser beam cutting
a hole directly into the bridgeof his nose and into his brain. He died swiftly. Corinne turned the weapon on Pat so quicklythat he had no time to reach for his own. Indeed,he had no
desire to reach for a weapon to be usedagainst Corinne. He stood facing her, sadnesswelling up in him
for Werner, and for all the thousands of Werner's counterparts who had died onthe other ships, and for
the loss of the womanwhose emerald eyes blazed fire at him down thebarrel of a handbeam.
"I'm sorry," Pat said. "I am truly sorry, honey."
Her head began to move back and forth, and asound of agony came from her lips. He saw herfingers
tighten, her hand go white on the weapon.And then she stopped trembling.
"I can't kill you," she whispered. "I can't." "Thank you," Pat said. "But why, Pat?" she asked. "Why?" He shrugged. "I don't think you could understand if I told you, honey. Look. It's over. I wishyou'd
come with me, but I suspect you can't. Whydon't you get into gear and we'll transfer you overto the other ship. The two of you can handle her totake her back to Taratwo." "To wait for the forces of the UP to come andpunish us?" she asked.
"I'm afraid they'll at least want to be sure thereare no disrupters on the planet," Pat said. A tear grew and rolled down her cheek. "We had it all, Pat," she whispered. "We had it all and you threw it away."
"Admiral," came Gorben's voice. "Yes, Gorben," Pat said. "I have, in compliance with your orders, totallydestroyed the disrupter aboard this ship, and I amready
to join you, Holiness." "Very well, Gorben," Pat said. "Carry on." Corinne had holstered her weapon. He helpedher get into space gear. She was grimly silent. Andthen,
just before he lifted the helmet onto herhead, she said, "Kiss me, Pat." He kissed her lightly, and for a moment hopecame to him. Maybe, someday— Gorben and Corinne passed in space, and thenGorben was aboard Pat's ship and Pat had watchedthe
hatch close on Brenden's ship. Gorben lookedat Werner's body without emotion. "I'm sorry about Werner," Pat said. "He has gone to Zede, to his glory," Gorbensaid. "I envy him. I regret only, Holiness, that I am not with
the others." "In time," Pat said sadly, for it happened to allin time, and to some too soon. He sat down in the command chair. The thrusters on Brenden's shipwere beginning to glow. Nothing to do now but go back
and get the good oldSkimmer and gohome. "Your orders, Admiral?" Gorben asked, standing tall. "We'll go back to Dorchlunt in a few minutes,Gorben," Pat said. "I'm going to leave you in chargethere
until I come back, with others." "And then to Zede?"
"Or better," Pat said, wondering what X&A and the eggheads would make of Dorchlunt, and what
they'd do to integrate the remaining Dorchlunters into the UP. "It's all going to work out, Gorben.Trust me."
"Of course, Holiness," Gorben said.
Brenden's ship was moving. Pat felt a tightnessin his throat. He would gladly have traded thegalaxy and all its treasures for one small, curvy,auburn-haired girl.
Brenden's ship was moving across his bow, coming broadside.
"Holiness," Gorben said, "he is going to passdangerously near."
"It's all right, Gorben," Pat said.
He couldn't take his eyes off the ship, for tworeasons, the most painful being that she was on it.He held his finger poised over a certain button. He glanced over his shoulder. Gorben was gone. Hereached for the communicator button to tell Gorbenthat everything was under control, but his finger never reached it, for at that moment all the weapons on Brenden's ship, obviously under central control, opened up. A swarm of missiles shot out,and the projectile weapons fired intelligent shells, and the deadly beams reached for Pat's ship, siz zling the shield even as he reversed the movement of his hand and his finger shot toward the bu
ttonwhich would take the ship away from the missiles,projectiles, beams on a blink which he'd programmed into the navigation computer for justthis eventuality.
The screen went with an electrical distortionwhich caused his hair to stand up, and then hewas screaming as his finger hit the button and theship slid into that nowhere which is a blink, for inthat last instant before there was empty, clearspace in front of his screens as he reemerged hehad seen Brenden's ship glow.
He had screamed, "No, Gorben, no!"
Within minutes he was back, blinking his shipto within half a mile of the pride of the Taratwofleet, the Brenden's flagship. The ship was as dead,as empty of any mechanical, electronic, or life-form impulse, as was the ancient colony ship whichcircled Dorchlunt. Gorben had been trained toowell. In those few seconds he'd reached the disrupter,and in that split second between the firing ofBrenden's weapons and the blink, his superb reactiontime had allowed the beam of his disrupter tostrike Brenden's flagship amidships.
FOURTEEN
The ways of the gods, Gorben thought, are verystrange. They are not, however, to be questioned,even when a god does something as odd as intertwo human bodies encased in boxes in the earth. He had the honor of being on the detail whichhelped the God Fleet Admiral Torga Bluntz remove the bodies of the red-headed ones from thedead ship, encase them in metal boxes fabricatedin the shops from valuable, ancient material, andthen bury them under six feet of the red earth ofDorchlunt.
Nor did Gorben question or doubt when the god used the weapons of his own little ship to destroy the last surviving Taratwo cruiser, with the last ofthe disrupters aboard.
"Admiral Bluntz," Gorben said, for, as the godhad said, now everyone could speak the sacredname openly, much to the chagrin of the priesthood, "if I may be so bold, sir, will you return, inmy own lifetime, or is your return, with thoseothers of whom you speak, to be a matter of patience and generations as was the period of yourfirst return?"
"In your lifetime, Gorben. A matter of weeks, atmost. Greet those who come with friendship,Gorben. They will bring odd and wonderful things,and the life-style of the Dorchlunters will be altered forever."
"I await eagerly my ascent to glory," Gorbensaid.
The computer aboard theSkimmer was next touseless. Pat had to stay alert on the long trip home,as the ship blinked and blinked and then pausedto charge. During the charge periods he slept withthe aid of an intake of alcohol far beyond his customary habits. He did not drink the last two daysbefore reaching Xanthos so that his head would beclear for his report. He asked specifically for Jeanny Thompson, needing, wanting, a friendly face as hetold his incredible story.
A crusty X&A admiral, called in for the secondtelling of Pat's tale, grunted and said, "Has thisman been given a psychological evaluation?" Thatwas his way of saying he didn't believe. Pat didn'tgive a damn.
"Sir," he said, "I'll pass on the psychologicalevaluation. Just follow the blink route I've givenJeanny and you'll have your proof."
Almost five thousand ships dead in space was ample proof.
At last he was finished. He kept himself togetherlong enough to lift theSkimmer to the shipyardand leave orders for that long-delayed overhaul. Then he tried his damnedest to disappear into a bottle.
When Jeanny Thompson finally found him she used her handbeam to cut the lock which he yelledout to her that he would not open.
"God, what a slob," she said, when she saw him.
She walked to the holo projector and stood behindit. A beautiful auburn-haired girl in period costume was frozen in time and space, standing atthe head of a long, sweeping staircase.
"So that's Corinne," Jeanny said.
Then she took the cassette from the projector and opened a window and threw it out. It shattered into a thousand pieces on the pavement fourstories below. Pat bellowed and charged at her drunkenly, and she clipped him neatly on the side of the neck and caught him before he fell.
When he awoke he was clean, his three-week-beard had been shaved, not too gently, and theapartment no longer reeked of stale sweat andbooze. His head was clear.
"I used detox on you," Jeanny said.
"I don't thank you for it," Pat said. She had diedwithin half a mile of him, that beautiful woman.She had died and—
"Hungry?" Jeanny asked. "No," he said. "Eat anyhow," Jeanny ordered, putting food infront of him. In spite of himself, the smell of it caused his
stomach to growl. "OK, Audrey," Jeanny said. "Don't call me Audrey," he said, around a bite ofdelicious meat. "You've spent a month feeling sorry for yourself.So you've lost your great love, the love of yourlife—" The food turned to straw in his mouth. And hislook caused Jeanny to hold up one hand quickly. "Sorry," she said. "I won't do that again." He chewed and swallowed. "Pat, an X&A ship just got back from your planet.They found everything there just as you said itwould
be." Pat nodded. "There's a little difficulty with the natives, Pat. After all, they've had their beliefs for a thousandyears.
They're going to be in for a severe dose ofculture shock." "Can't be helped," Pat said. "It can be eased," she said. "I'm sure you people can handleit,"Pat said. "There's a young man named Gorben out therewho says he won't obey any order against the oldways
unless it comes directly from Fleet AdmiralTorga Bluntz." She leaned forward. "Pat, I can'tpretend that I know how you feel. Apparently I'venever loved anyone like that, but I can imaginethat you're still sore in your heart from having tolet those beautiful blond young men kill each other."
"I am," Pat said. "There are a few of them left," she said. "Theyneed your help, Pat. Think of the things they'regoing to be
hit with. They're going to learn that athousand years of tradition have all been in vain, that Zede lost the war, that there's going to be noreturn to glory, no heaven in Zede." "Any decent planet will seem like heaven afterDorchlunt," Pat said. "Pat," she said accusingly. "All right, dammit, what can I do? Haven't Idone enough to them already?"
"You can go back, as Admiral Bluntz, and easethe blow a bit for them, help them make thetransition."
"Alone?"
"No. X&A will have people swarming all overthe place. That's a pretty mean weapon out there,Pat. They'll want to be sure that the secret doesn'tget off Dorchlunt, and that there are no more working
models in existence."
"I won't be a part of the service," Pat said. "Iwon't go out there on an X&A ship."
"I can sign a charter agreement for theSkimmer,"she said. "It won't be at your usual exorbitant rates."
"I'll think it over," Pat said.
"Pat, the service can't force you to go. But youmight find it a little rough to get clearances thenext time
you try to go into space. You might havea little trouble with your licenses."
"Blackmail," Pat said, but he was thinking ofGorben. The kid deserved better than he hadcoming.
"Call it what you will."
"OK. Draw me a charter. I'll go out onSkimmerand talk to them."
"Since this is an official mission, there'll have tobe an X&A officer with you."
Pat shook his head, thinking of weeks in spacewith some brass-bound service egghead. "No deal. The
deal is off. I will not have some hardass X&Ajoker onSkimmer."
"That's odd," Jeanny said. "I thought my asswas pretty soft."
"You?" he asked.
"That's my assignment."
Well, that wouldn't be bad. Jeanny was a decentsort. He'd rather be alone, but if it had to be anyone,
better Jeanny than anyone else.
He put her in the mate's cabin. TheSkimmergleamed. The old man, the computer, was as sharpas new. Jeanny didn't push herself on him. Shealternated watches with him, although it wasn'treally necessary, and she spoke only when spoken to. He found himself comparing her with Corinne.Corinne was more beautiful, but Jeanny wasn'tbad, not bad at all, and she was an old friend andshe'd gone on the line for him a couple of times. No reason to take it out on her.
One night as t
hey waited for the generator tocharge he found himself talking to her about Corinne. She made little sympathetic sounds.
She cleaned up the mate's cabin. It wasn't allthat bad having her aboard. She was neat, and shedidn't talk all the time. One day, halfway toDorchlunt, she made him laugh.
They blinked out near the planet Dorchlunt inwhat was, for Pat, an unfortunate position. Brenden's flagship, dead in space, had been left in anorbit just slightly higher than that of the old colony ship, and as it happened both ships were insight whenSkimmer emerged. Pat felt a twist of his heart. It was night in the villages. Pat suggested they get a good sleep before going down at dawn. He dreamed of that last moment when herealized that Gorben had made his way to the disrupter and, thinking that he was defending hisgod, had turned the disrupter on the ship which contained Brenden and Corinne. He awoke, and there was a soft hand on his forehead, and a soft voice saying, "Hey, take it easy, old buddy."
"Corinne?"
"No, just me," Jeanny said.
"Ah, God," he said, his voice choking, and whenshe clasped her arms around his head and pulledhis cheek down to her bare, hot breasts, he did notprotest, but let the nightmare continue, and thenthere were tears in his eyes and then worse. He wept.
When he had expended himself Jeanny still held him. "My boy," she said, "I don't know whether tobe glad or sorry that you never loved me thatmuch. It would be flattering, in a way, and a hugeburden in another, you know?"
He pulled away, kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks,Jeanny," he said.
"Want company the rest of the night?" she asked.
He didn't say anything. She crawled into thebed beside him, put her arms around him. Hedidn't move, but he didn't try to push her away.She was warm and soft against him, but he felt no desire for her. His desire had died with that sleek ship which orbited the planet above the old relic.Jeanny, concerned for him, said, "Hey, if there'sanything at all that I can do—"