Pock's World

by Dave Duncan

Desipient said, “There is nobody here. I have always wanted to see the Altar.”

  “I thought that was the Altar.” Millie pointed to the great slab towering over the picnic ground.

  “That is the Altar stone. The actual altar is on the top, where you can’t see it. Nobody is allowed to see it, and tourists are never even told about it.”

  Millie said, “Oo! Did the secretary general see it when she was here?”

  “I am certain she did not.” The priestess glanced around. “Could we manage it, do you think, Flisk?”

  The big man jumped up. “Easy! I, too, have always wanted to say a prayer at such a holy place.”

  “We must be quick.” Desipient said, glancing up at the sky, where the glare of the sun was close to the needle-thin crescent of Javel.

  They were quick. Flisk hefted a timber picnic table single-handed and carried it over the Altar Stone. Even in low gravity that was an impressive feat. All three of them climbed up on it, and then he lifted Desipient right over his head so she could scramble onto the Altar Stone. She helped Millie when he lifted her, and then up came Flisk himself, who must have made a standing jump.

  After all that, the top of the Altar Stone was a disappointment. It was badly weathered and corroded, and tourists had scratched graffiti all over it, despite what the priestess had said.

  “Over here,” Desipient said. “This hole leads to the spout you saw. And look at the engraving.”

  Millie said, “Oo!” again, for at once she made out the shadowy image of a bipedal figure carved into the rock, arms and legs spread-eagled. Where the head should have been was the hole. “But they must have been giants!”

  “Indeed they must,” Flisk said. He lay down and spread his limbs. Big as he was, he came nowhere near fitting the mold. “But obviously the Querents sacrificed Querents to the Mother.”

  “They chopped off their heads?” Millie stepped back in revulsion. All those poor people! Well, not real human people, but sentients. How terrified they must have been, and what wicked, senseless, useless deaths!

  “Oh, no. The heads would have plugged the drain.” He sprang up again.

  “Wait,” said the priestess. “I am sure Friend Millie would like a picture of you down there. Better still! Let me take your recorder, Millie. It has near-infinite sensitivity, doesn’t it? Here comes eclipse. You lie down there, and I will record it for you to show your friends.”

  What a revolting idea!

  “No, thank you! I couldn’t possibly!”

  Darkness swirled over the world. Overhead the stars appeared, outlining the great disk of Javel, glowing with mysterious lights.

  “I insist.” Flisk’s great hands reached for her.

  Millie screamed and struggled, but she was helpless against the giant. He forced her down with her head over the hole. Yuck! Obviously the graffiti louts had been using this unique cultural relic as a urinal. She had drunk enough to feel slightly nauseous already, and the odious stench—

  “Ow!”

  An incredibly heavy knee on her back crushed all the air out of her lungs. She flapped her arms and struggled to find enough breath to protest.

  “No, no! Please! Please! I have done nothing to deserve this. It’s not my fault that Pock’s World will burn.”

  “But you may suffice to prevent it!” he said. “Think of that. Now lie still! Spread your legs and arms… Right. Holy Mother, eternal refuge, receive this unworthy offering and spare your children.”

  Strong fingers gripped her hair and yanked her head back. Cold steel like fire at her throat…

  Forsdy

  Athena Fimble had always been a better rider than Linn Lazuline, and she enjoyed proving it yet again. Abietin horses were incredible beasts, twenty hands high, colored gold and copper, breathtakingly fast and nimble. They were normally controlled by cognition, but a few had been trained to respond to rein and knee commands for the sake of visitors. The sheer exuberance of a long, hard ride in sub-standard gravity had helped to work off some of her dark mood.

  Whatever one thought of holy Monody’s geotheism and peculiar means of reproduction, her hospitality could not be faulted. Athena’s quarters were more luxurious than her own rooms back in Portolan, including a private hot pool and three young priestess attendants displaying a dazzling array of clothing for her selection. She chose a gown in some dark material of variable color that flickered in a myriad stars. It had a long, formal train but was topless, a style she would never dare even look at back home, but appropriate for a shameless hussy involved in bedroom fund-raising with Linn Lazuline. Her visor, too, was studded with gems. By the time she was dressed and groomed, it was almost eclipse time, the start of her last day on Pock’s World.

  “You are invited to dine with Her Holiness,” the senior priestess said, “after the eclipse service. You may attend that, also, if you wish. Many visitors find the singing impressive.”

  Athena did not hesitate. Abietin’s choir was famous throughout the sector and regularly toured the worlds. Linn soon arrived to escort her, looking even more knock-’em-down hunky than usual in a silver dhoti with matching visor and sandals. She was well aware that their agreement had one more night to run, and the smoky look he gave her as he offered his arm confirmed that he had not forgotten either. They set off after their guide through the dappled sunshine of the titans’ forest.

  “This is getting like the old children’s rhyme,” Linn said. “Now we are two. Brother Andre is saving souls wholesale at St. Mick’s, and the well-named Ratty has gone to offer his all at Real Quassia. Oh, I do hope the goddess accepts him. No one could call Turnsole a human sacrifice, after all.”

  “Stop that! You are not to make rude remarks about Turnsole! He’s one of the divine family hereabouts. Hold your tongue until we’re safely on the shuttle and on our way. And Millie?”

  “Millie, I am told, is still sightseeing the sites. Or sighting the seaside, possibly? Seeing the sidelines? She will probably view the entire planet before embarkation time, if she has to travel at supersonic speed to do it.”

  “Are you tipsy?”

  “A little.” He dropped his voice and bent close. “Athena, they’re all going to die just two days from now. Yet they’re still smiling and passing the soap and pouring drinks. It’s indecent!”

  She had noticed the same thing. “It’s faith. Monody says it won’t happen, so it won’t.”

  “A whole world refusing to face the truth? That’s horrible!”

  “It’s human, Linn. People ignore bad news whenever they can. Isn’t there any chance, any chance at all, that they’re right and it will miss?”

  “Not a hope. I am certain STARS hasn’t missed a shot in twenty-eight thousand years.” After a moment he muttered, “Frankly, I wish I hadn’t come here.”

  Christians often got worked up about the end of the world, but the largest sect in the world was in official denial. She wondered what was happening in the mosques and churches and synagogues, and at the shuttle landing grounds.

  The Abietin temple resembled a gigantic tent of multicolored glass. Sunlight streaming down through tree foliage made the lights dance, sending a billion flecks of color racing over the crowd like midges. There was a fair-sized crowd there already, constantly milling, for it seemed that each newcomer had to proceed to the central monolith and then move outward again to make way for others. The singing had already begun, although the choir was invisible and as fine as any Athena had ever heard. The contrapuntal singing baffled her translator, and the solos were banal paeans of praise to the Mother. She removed her earplug to concentrate on the music, which was what mattered; the music was splendid.

  The edge went off the day as the sun slid into eclipse. Totality brought a few moments of utter darkness until eyes adjusted enough to reveal the incredible disk of Javel behind the treetops, its eternally flickering lights turned to polychrome flames by the canopy. A faint glow atop the rocky pulpit brightened and then resolved into Monody, clad in a shimmering whi
te gown. The apparition was certainly not old Wisdom, but it could have been any of the others, most likely Duty herself, pre-recorded or projected by hologram from Quassia. Athena heard her words through her translator, but the natives would be cognizing them.

  She cut straight to the heart of the problem: “My children, strange and evil rumors are being spread.” She conceded that a small asteroid was due to fall at the start of Sixtrdy, but that was by no means to be feared. Meteors fell all the time, and as usual the target area was being evacuated. The Mother would not desert her children; love her, trust her, go in peace. Short, definite, and effective—Athena could sense the congregation’s worry draining away. She saw many tears of relief.

  It was not her job to shout out that this was all a lie and they must perish.

  * * *

  The dining room was small and intimate, with its walls and ceiling merged in a masterpiece of wood carving, a tangled grove of plants, animals, and even curiously playful little people. No doors or windows were in evidence. Attendants glided silently in and out through gaps in the latticework and the light came from no visible source.

  Four low couches stood around a circular table, whose center slowly rotated, so that the guests could choose from the many dishes on offer. The diners were required to recline on one elbow to eat, and there were indeed four people present: Athena, Linn, Braata, and Monody—in this case Joy. She wore the usual white gown and seemed childishly happy to be playing hostess. She inquired about their ride, and how they had enjoyed the choir, and so on.

  “The service was extremely moving,” Athena said hastily. She did not like the way Linn was gulping his wine and worried that he might make some sarcastic remark about denial. Linn Lazuline would never make a fool of himself, but he might lose control of his cruel streak and expose other people’s follies. “And was that you preaching?”

  “It was me! My first official act!”

  “Not second?” Linn murmured audibly, but he raised his goblet and proclaimed, “A salute to the newly fledged priestess! Duty herself could not have done it better.”

  Joy beamed at the praise. “And next week I am to tour Ryotwary!”

  “Where or what is Ryotwary?”

  Ryotwary was a school, it seemed, and Joy was eager to talk about it, and the events being planned. The doubts that had troubled her that morning had melted away.

  That was certainly not true of Braata. Still flaunting his gold crucifix, he picked at his food and offered nothing to the conversation.

  “You a prisoner here?” Linn inquired jovially.

  The engineer smiled cynically. “Apparently. Seems they don’t want me running around spreading alarm and ‘false rumors.’”

  “He is here for his own protection,” Joy snapped. “He revealed STARS secrets, and Wisdom believes that STARS may try to hurt him. He started all the stupid panic with his lies about the end of the world. There have been almost a hundred people killed already. And fires! It was criminally irresponsible. The families of the dead are another group that may try to settle scores with him. He is safe here, though.”

  Braata said, “It is a pleasant enough place to die, but I would like to say farewell to my family first.”

  “You still can. You have three-quarters of a lifetime ahead of you. You may spend a lot of it in jail, of course.” Pouting, Joy reached for a drink.

  “Where did Director Backet go?” Athena asked.

  “Quassia. She and a guide and a couple of guards. To view the eclipse. That’s what tourists do.”

  “So they’re with your, um, sisters? With Duty and Love and Ratty?”

  Joy laughed. “No. They went to Real Quassia. Friend Millie was taken to Tourist Quassia. To a nonbeliever it’s just as good. Better, because it has a lot more Querent stuff visible.” Pause for cognition. “They left there ten minutes ago, heading for Orchid Valley. We track the fliers.” She grinned. “Priestess Desipient is skilled at escorting off-worlders around. Lots of useless info and no humor.”

  “They were made for each other!” Linn declared, raising his glass in another toast. Everyone smiled. More denial.

  One more night, Athena thought, one more night of prostitution to raise funds by raising Linn Lazuline. Tomorrow, Frivdy, she would go home to start planning her campaign for the nomination, and ultimately the downfall of STARS. But Pock’s World would be long dead by then.

  “You are quite sure you won’t stay on a few days longer?” Joy inquired, all dewy innocence.

  “Quite sure, thank you,” Linn said. “I did ask Friend Glaum if I might stay on at Pock’s Station to watch the impact. He did not sound encouraging.”

  “He does not want you to find out that nothing happened,” Joy said. “Consort Oxindole is helping coordinate the cuckoo roundup. He expects to have almost all of them within three or four fortnights.”

  Linn smiled. “And they will all be put to death?”

  She nodded uncertainly.

  “How, exactly? Vivisection, chemical euthanasia, or public beheading? Or will you sacrifice them to the Mother?”

  Athena wished she could kick him under the table, but that was not possible when reclining on a couch.

  “We do not sacrifice people to our goddess! You shouldn’t listen to the lies that scraggy old priest keeps spouting. The only offerings she accepts are acts of charity to help other people.”

  Joy was trying to imitate Duty’s tone of authority, but she was no match for Linn Lazuline. They looked close to the same age, but he must be three times as old as she was and had wielded enormous power since long before she was born. He was also close to drunk.

  “So what happened to Gownsman Bombardon that Wisdom would not discuss?”

  “I have no idea. I never heard his name until this morning.”

  “I have.” Linn smiled like a contented carnivore. “A Joy died. Love could not conceive again. She tried at least seven men, one after the other. She took them up to Quassia, kept them around the house, tried ’em drunk and tried ’em sober. Finally she picked on Bombardon. He was married, but she was getting desperate. She dragged him up to Quassia for a romantic eclipse. Bombardon threw himself off the pillar, into the crater—apparently after the sweaty stuff, not before, because it worked. Out popped your grandma, in due course. Granted that this is not the usual climax to a fertility rite, do you still insist that your goddess never accepts human sacrifices? Will you give me your sacred oath on that, Monody?”

  Joy stared back like cornered prey. “I knew the story, I just didn’t know his name. His death was an accident.”

  “I am waiting for your oath, Monody.”

  “The Mother will sometimes accept voluntary sacrifices,” Joy admitted, “in desperate situations.”

  Athena tried not to remember that Ratty Turnsole had gone to Quassia with Duty and Love. Not for a fertility rite this time, but the situation was certainly desperate. She couldn’t see Ratty sacrificing more than his loose change to anyone or anything.

  “You fail to understand,” Joy said, with a pathetic effort at dignity, “the distinction between sacrifices and offerings. Brother Andre ought to know the difference. Monody was very clear about it.”

  “But sometimes her followers get a little muddled?” Linn persisted. “Let’s talk about the infamous Altar Stone, then, the one the tourists buzz around. Three years ago—Pocosin years—there was a boy by the name of Feaze who came to an untimely end, yes?”

  Athena had had enough. “Linn, darling, you are sloshed and so am I. Will you see me safely back to my room, please?”

  He scowled as if she had stopped him pulling the wings off something. Then he smirked. “Safe until you get there, anyway.”

  Athena made her farewells and they departed.

  Eclipse had ended. The sun blazed again, although people were asleep and the forest trails deserted.

  As they walked along, his heavy arm draped over her shoulders, she said, “You don’t really think Ratty is in danger do you, at Quassia?
”

  “Regretfully, no.”

  “Where did you learn all that scandal about human sacrifice? Not from Brother Andre.”

  “Scandal? It’s no scandal. It’s true. I did my homework before I came here. Officially there’s no such thing as human sacrifice, but there are ritual suicides, and sometimes some of the faithful get confused as to which is which. Probably there are breakaway cults. The Feaze boy had his throat cut on the Altar, no explanation, no culprit ever arrested.” He cupped a hand around her breast. “Arouse me. Tell me how you are planning to earn your next two million.”

  “Kneecaps,” Athena said. “Kneecaps can be very erogenous.”

  * * *

  The night before, Linn Lazuline sober had been a wonderfully skilled lover. Drunk he was clumsy, rough, and selfish. Twice he got up and went to the medic for stiffener. After his fourth orgasm he fell into an exhausted slumber, snoring like a pig. Athena was surprised, because this was a side of him she had never observed before, even when they were children together. Was he feeling guilty because he had bought her? Could he really be so depressed by the looming death of Pock’s World? Linn had his faults, but she didn’t think murder was among them.

  Despite all the wine and all the sex, she was unable to sleep. Partly that was because he had insisted on full daylight, and she did not want to order the drapes to close now in case they wakened him. Likewise, she could do nothing about the heat. They were well into bright week now, and every day would be hotter than the last.

  But this was her last day here. In a few hours a shuttle would lift her away from this cruelly doomed world. Very soon after that, she would be back at Shadoof Landing, cognizing Proser for the latest news. She would open her campaign the following day, with a cog-conference denouncing STARS’s geocide. Yes, she would say, she was satisfied that there had been cuckoos on Pock’s. She had seen the evidence. Yes, they were a danger, but modern surveillance methods would have rounded them up smartly. DNA testing would keep the world quarantined with no need to slaughter two-thirds of a billion innocent people. STARS must be tamed, gelded, and its fangs drawn, before it murdered any more worlds.