Darkwar by Glen Cook
She took the voidship in hard, quickly, and sought a lock through which she could enter. The first few she examined were damaged beyond use.
Inside. She raced along metal corridors, climbed ladders that rang beneath her boots, skipped past dead meth, flung ghosts this way and that, searching out safe pathways….
She arrived too late.
Barlog lay sandwiched between buckled plates of steel. She screamed when Marika tried to shift the weight. Marika screamed with her, cursing the All. There was nothing she could do. She did not have a healer sister’s skills. She had not taken time to learn them. None of her bath had the talent.
She settled down and gripped Barlog’s paw. Over and over she apologized. “I’m sorry, Barlog, that I brought you to this end.”
Barlog replied, “Do not blame yourself, Marika. I chose. Grauel and I both chose. You gave us a chance to return home. We chose not to go. It has been a long life filled with wonders no Degnan ever dreamed of. By rights none of us should have survived the invasion of the Ponath. So we cannot complain. We had many borrowed years. Our deaths have been honorable, and we will be recalled as long as Marika is recalled, for were we not her right and left paws, her shadows in the lights of Biter and Chaser?”
Barlog gathered her strength. Marika gripped her paw more tightly. She said, “I do not want you to die, Barlog. I do not want you to leave me here alone.”
Finally Barlog replied, “You were always alone, Marika. We but followed you down the pathway of your destiny. We leave one request. Take us back to the Ponath. Not now, but someday.”
“That will be. You know it will be. If it is the only thing I accomplish in what life is left me.”
“Thank you, Marika.”
Neither said anything more. Marika did not want to speak for fear grief would betray her, and she lose the concentration she lent to watching for a return of Starstalker.
In time Barlog shuddered, whimpered, clutched her paw tightly, and went to join the All.
Marika could maintain control no longer.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I
Marika presided over an abbreviated Mourning down upon the colony world. She had the ashes of Grauel and Barlog stored in flasks that she placed aboard her darkship. Then she took the darkship up and out, to the stars, and till her bath rebelled she hunted Serke. She became more cold, more deadly than ever before, and saw little purpose to life other than the final destruction of the last six or seven of the old enemy.
When the bath refused to be driven farther she returned to the battered starship and lurked there sullenly, solitarily, becoming social only when preparing to launch another search foray. She often talked to herself when alone, debating taking her huntresses home. The part of her that insisted on waiting till they were avenged always won.
If she would not go of her own choosing, the homeworld would summon her.
There was a flight into the dust cloud, sniffing cold spoor, and another team of bath who tired of fruitless, driven pursuit. She turned back to the starship, and as she approached it she received a touch.
A darkship with a crew symbolically selected from four dark-faring orders awaited her. It bore a desperate petition from the new most seniors of the various Communities, the silth she had expected to come hunting, but who never had.
What was this? Some cunningly laid trap?
She approached the meeting with extreme caution.
The Mistress of the courier ship was a Redoriad survivor of the battles with the Serke, one Marika knew and had little cause to suspect—though she had participated in Balbrach’s attempt to steal the derelict. Her skills in the void were second only to Marika’s own. She said, “You see before you the only Mistress of five sent who survived the effort to escape the homeworld. We all carried the same plea. Your talent is needed at home, Marika.”
“For what? What has happened now?”
“The brethren. Of course. You were right about them. Somewhere, somehow, while silthdom diverted itself with other matters, they built a starship modeled on the alien. It appeared a month ago. It carried many brethren whom we could not harm and weapons of the alien sort. Many silth have perished. They seized the mirrors and orbital stations. Now they are down on the planet, attacking us everywhere. They have powerful suppressors that take our talents away and force us to battle them in their own fashion. Though you hurt them badly before, they have gained strength because they have won the sympathy of the bonded population.”
Marika recalled the attitudes of her elders when she was a pup. The Communities had not ever had the hearts of common meth. “You would not listen, you silth. You would not learn. I do not want to come. The homeworld has done nothing but cause me grief. Yet I have made promises to my dead. I will come. And I will die, I think, for if none of you can destroy them, what hope for me alone? For if this is a lure into a web to avenge those I punished for their stupidity and cupidity, what chance that I will prevail? The bait would not be set out till the trappers felt certain of their ground.”
The Redoriad ignored her suggestion of potential treachery. “You have the wooden darkship. The rogue cannot see you in the void.”
“Little good may that do.”
“You will come? For certain?”
“I said I would. Let me rest. Let me grieve for myself and all my stupid sisters who would not hear my warnings, so beg me now to kalerhag for their salvation. I should allow them to be eradicated. I should hope a smarter generation would arise after them. But I will come. I have nothing for which to live. Nothing but the destruction of my enemies.”
“This is not true, mistress. It has taken a disaster of grand magnitude to convince the sisterhoods that the solitary voice crying warning held more wisdom than all their ruling generation. They believe, Marika. They beg you to take the mantle and show the way, to forge the new unity….”
“I do not want to lead. I never wanted that. Had I wished, I could have taken command long ago. All I ever wanted was to walk the starpaths with my friends, finding new things. I have been allowed little opportunity to chase that dream. The wickednesses of silth have compelled me always to turn elsewhere. And now they have robbed me of all who were dearest to me. Then when they must pay the price of their folly they beg me to save them.”
“You are bitter.”
“Of course I am. But enough of that. Tell me what you know of the orbits occupied by the rogues.” She did not believe treacherous silth would have craft enough to weave a luring tale with sufficient verisimilitude to include properly shaped imaginary rogue orbits. She would go, but the Redoriad’s report would tell her what she faced.
II
Marika paused on a world a short jump from home. She rested her bath well. She carried a doubled and heavily armed crew. The Redoriad she sent ahead to scout. Shortly before she expected the Redoriad to return she took her darkship up and gathered ghosts for the Up-and-Over.
The Redoriad appeared. They are in polar orbit, she reported. Inside the orbits of the smallest moons. They are arming the mirrors and stations, though there are not really enough of them to operate all the systems. Touch I had with the surface was grim. Several small sisterhoods have been entirely destroyed. All the larger are in trouble. The only damage done the rogue ship was by a homecoming Mistress who committed kalerhag when she saw she could not reach the surface. After her rites she plunged her darkship into the rogue’s drives. It cannot maneuver. Unfortunately, it remained in a stable orbit.
Marika thanked the Mistress, then questioned her closely about the rogue ship’s orbit. She wanted to arrive near it, to allow it no time to respond to her appearance.
She skipped to the edge of the system, took control of a great black, then made the long jump, mind tight upon the innermost of the home world’s minor moons, which orbited inside geocentric altitude and well askew from the equator.
She came out within a mile of the moon and hid behind it. It was fewer than a thousand miles from the rogue, and w
The Redoriad Mistress was right. The ship was brethren from its conception and mimicked the alien in line and armament, though it was smaller. It began firing soon after she started her approach. It had not had much trouble detecting her.
She moved in fast, though, directly toward the ship’s stern, where there was a cone of space in which it was difficult for the ship’s weapons to track her. She evaded or destroyed what little did threaten her, then entered a smaller cone where no weapon could reach her at all.
She probed the ship’s suppressor fields and found a crack where the sister had smashed her darkship. She flung the great black at it, set it to ripping metal and the flesh beyond.
She brought her darkship into physical contact with the rogue’s stern. Rogue weaponry on the moons and stations dared not fire upon her there.
Marika touched her reserve bath, who would have to play the roles so long filled by Grauel and Barlog. Plant a charge. They hurried out the arm touching the starship. Once they returned Marika drifted a short distance away.
This would surprise the brethren. They still expected silth to think like silth. That made them vulnerable to more mundane techniques.
The explosion left a satisfactory hole in the starship’s skin. Marika drifted to that gap, tethered her darkship, and threw herself in amid the twisted metal. Her bath followed her.
The great black made the ship’s interior a place of madness. So condensed was it there that the place seemed thick with a noisome, hate-filled fog. The bath teetered on the edge of insanity. Marika had difficulty maintaining her sense of direction.
She found a pressure door through which she could enter that part of the starship that retained hull integrity and opened it.
Rogues waited on the other side. Their determination collapsed, though, in the fog of the great black. They did not wear suppressor suits. Perhaps they had grown lax within their orbiting fortress.
Marika allowed the great black to spread through the vessel, overcoming without killing. Many of the crew went mad. They fired at one another or shot themselves. They screamed and screamed and screamed. The bath captured and restrained those they could.
The control center was a greater problem. It was shielded by independent fields. Marika could find no weak points. She did not want to damage the ship any more, but had no choice if she wanted her way. She sent two bath to fetch more explosives.
Rogues in suppressor suits counterattacked from the command center while they were away. Marika and the remaining bath exchanged fire with them till they lost their nerve. One bath and three rogues were killed.
The explosives arrived. The moment the charges blew Marika shoved the great black into the control center. She followed. She had to slay only one more of the brethren to force their surrender. Five minutes later she had them out of their suits and the great black off seeking other rogues’ nests.
She found those everywhere. Most she did not attack because they held too many hostages. She would not force grand sacrifices unless she could break the rogues no other way.
She set the shadow loose upon the world, in places where the rogues were strong, till all was confusion down below. Then she sent the great black off to its home system.
She examined the ship’s control center. It duplicated that in which she had lived so long, reduced in size. “Wake them up,” she told the bath, indicating prisoners who were unconscious. Those who retained consciousness she told, “Take your stations.”
They moved reluctantly. A few refused. She drew a small ghost inside, chose a male at random, and made him die slowly.
She demanded, “Anyone else want to be a martyr to an idiot cause?” She extended a paw toward one who seemed senior.
He moved to a position.
“Good. Now activate all secured systems. This ship is going to do what it was designed to do.”
Males eyed her blankly.
“You’ll buy your lives by destroying those who summoned you.” She wrinkled a lip in amusement.
No one argued, though many sets of shoulders tightened in anger and resentment.
“Good. You know me well enough not to waste time arguing. You may begin by recalling those who have taken control of the stations and mirrors.”
The senior male replied, “They will not come. They have orders.”
“They will not come, mistress. Recall your upbringing. Annoy me again and you will enjoy a long life as my personal bond. I am not pleased with you meth. I am tempted to see that your lives are very long and extremely unpleasant.”
“They will not come, mistress. They have orders to remain where they are, no matter what they hear.”
“Very inventive. We shall have to convince them, then. Prepare a rocket. We will destroy the Hammer. Send the order. Give them one minute to respond. Then launch.”
The senior rogue started shaking.
Typical male fear fit. They had no choice but to entrust tasks to cowards. They were all cowards.
“I am watching you. While you work recall that I have spent years studying the ship on which this one was patterned. I will know what you are doing.” She stopped, flipped a ghost at a male doing something surreptitious. He screamed. “You see?” She ordered the bath to hang him from the overhead. “Your friend will sing songs of agony while you work. His screams will serve to remind you who rules and who obeys.”
She patted the senior’s shoulder. He shuddered. “This time you pushed too hard. You made the Communities beg me to deal with you. You sealed the doom of all brethren. Even those we silth think good, I suppose. You were given countless chances to learn and refused all of them. In the Ponath, where I was whelped, we destroyed an animal that threatened us. Immediately. Sentiment did not stand in the way. Life was too fragile, too difficult.” She patted his shoulder again. “Be of good cheer. You will participate in great events. You will see the end of an era. You may become the only brethren left alive. I might set you loose later, to wander the world and bear witness to the fury of silth aroused, to the fury of the All, when meth dare defy the natural order.”
Some of the males looked at her as though she were mad. Most tried to evade her attention. The senior started to rise, lips back in anger. Marika gestured. The hanging male shrieked. “Such is the fate of those who will not obey. Those who will will survive. Destroy the Hammer. The dome on Little Fang will be next.” She whispered to her senior bath, “I am leaving for a moment. Watch them.”
She stepped out of the control section, closed her eyes, opened to the weak touch she had felt a moment before.
The Redoriad Mistress had entered the home system.
III
What is it? Marika sent.
You may have sprung a trap.
I knew that when I came. But the males were here. How otherwise?
I came back too soon, too tired, hoping to be of aid. I dropped out of the Up-and-Over too soon, and askew from the ecliptic. Chance showed me three starships very like that which attacked the world. They are lying quietly out there.
Marika grunted, reflected a moment. So. Did they detect you?
I think not. I remained only a moment. Barely long enough to note them, probe them, and get out. They are not alert.
Interesting. Were they shielded?
No.
Stay where you are. It is dangerous here still.
Marika paced. A trap. With the deadly part awaiting a signal from in here. A signal already going out at the velocity of light. How far? She queried the Redoriad Mistress. Many, many hours. Too far for them. They had been too careful in hiding themselves.
The fools. She closed her eyes and summoned the system’s great black. It did not take long.
She returned to the control center afterward. “Have they been stalling?” The rocket h
“I think so, mistress.”
“So.” She waved a paw. “Like that. That easily. Your ships in hiding have been destroyed. They were not alert. They did not have their shields up. You gain nothing by trying to stall till they get here.” She faced the bath. “I want all the brethren aboard gathered here. I will give them the chance to die for their beliefs, or to make their peace.”
The senior male looked grim. Marika said, “I told you to destroy the Hammer. You have not done so.” She waved. The dangling male howled till the senior closed a circuit that launched a rocket.
“Now the dome on Little Fang. Orders to return here, then one minute, then launch. I want the orders sent on a frequency open to everyone.”
The senior growled, “You are enjoying this.”
“Very much.” And she was. She was free of restraint. There was no one whose opinion concerned her. This would be done her way entirely. She would shatter their power, and humiliate them in the process. And she would enjoy doing it.
There would be no mercy this time. This time she would redesign the world.
It took only four rockets to convince the brethren that their position was hopeless. Marika made it seem obvious that she was willing to sacrifice everyone in the stations.
A few hundred meth died. And the void around the homeworld was hers.
Once the brethren from the mirrors were safely away, inward bound, she loosed the great black and finished everyone who had held the stations.
The senior male protested.
“I promised them nothing. Only you who are here.” She stared down at the homeworld, at the place where Kublin cowered. He would not respond to the touch. But he never did.
She had a rocket carry a greeting down.
The explosion, half an hour later, was most gratifying. But it did not neutralize Kublin’s installation. She sent another.
A tendril of touch reached her. A far-toucher sister down below sent her the gratitude of the Communities. The message sounded terribly contrived. Marika responded, You are not yet saved. That from which you fled has overtaken you. That which you feared has befallen you. I have the rogue ship now. And there will be real changes before I abandon it. You had a choice. The brethren way or Marika’s. You chose mine as the lesser evil. Now you must live or die with it.