Marek Huberath - Nest of Worlds

“Medved’s not here. He’ll be back in an hour.”

“Give me the number where I can reach him.” Gavein tried to say as little as possible, thinking that when he didn’t speak, they could not track the call. But he was probably wrong.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The numbers at the ministry are all classified. Let me have your number. Colonel Medved will call you as soon as he returns.”

“No more games,” said Gavein. “I want to hear from Medved within ten minutes.” And he hung up.

After almost ten minutes passed, Adams called and put Gavein through to Medved. There was crackling.

“Yes?” It was Medved’s voice.

“Gavein Throzz here. Do I need to add that I’m not calling from the other world?”

“It’s you.”

“Innocent people have been murdered. I demand that the killers be brought to justice. I’m speaking of the patrol of Sergeant Kurys and every single person who was behind what they did, even if that includes Thompson. Your job, if I’m not mistaken, is to uphold the law.”

“This conversation is being recorded. It will be played at the next session of the Defense Commission.”

“Excellent. I remind you that a policeman’s job is to apprehend criminals.” Gavein’s voice rose. “And the decisions of this commission of yours have been criminal, violating both law and justice. I don’t dispute the government’s fear of me, since strange and disturbing things have indeed been happening. But nothing can excuse the murder of civilians for the sole reason that they lived in the same house with me. The perpetrators, returning from that action, killed Dr. Yullius Saalstein. I’m sure you know him. I demand the punishment of the people responsible for that crime.”

On the other end of the line, silence.

“I demand that the crimes of General Thompson’s commission, all of them, be exposed on television. I demand that my wife receive medical care and that we have food, heat, all the necessities. Yes, I see the threat that my existence poses for Davabel. I see the connection between the epidemic of death and my person. Obviously it is impossible for me to leave for Ayrrah before the required time. Therefore, if my wife is completely cured, if she is provided for… with a good pension… then I am prepared, for the public good, to consider… in short, I will do away with myself,” he added in a lower voice, so that Ra Mahleiné wouldn’t overhear. “Are you there, Medved?”

“Yes.”

“Play this tape to the government, not to Thompson’s commission. The man’s a gangster and an imbecile.”

“I am not the owner of the tape. A decision will have to be reached. You’ll receive an answer shortly, at home.”

“Medved, I trust you. Don’t abuse that trust.”

“I’ll do everything in my power.”

Gavein put down the receiver and left the house. It was difficult to remain in a stuffy room surrounded by butchered bodies. Outside, it was warm, bright, and a breeze blew.

Ra Mahleiné stood, supported by Lorraine. Earlier she stood on her own, to comfort the girl, but now she had difficulty staying on her feet.

“Where were you?” she scolded him. “Don’t touch the bodies, you’ll get an infection!” This brought fresh sobs from Lorraine.

Ra Mahleiné’s expressions of conjugal love diminished as the hours passed. She and Gavein were together again, his proximity to her as certain as the rising of the sun. Little things now began to annoy her.

She could get exercised about any kind of nonsense: that he breathed too deeply, not leaving enough fresh air for her. That he breathed too quietly, making her worry that something was wrong with him. That he was oversexed, sex being all he cared about—or that, on the contrary, he wasn’t paying attention to her, and it wasn’t enough that she had sacrificed so many years of her life for him on that ship, he also needed her to be as beautiful as she was before. That when he took a bath, the water in the tub sounded like someone banging on a great laundry pot with a hammer (but what was he supposed to do? Edda had a sheet-metal tub)—or that, on the contrary, when he tried to wash more quietly, it meant he wasn’t washing thoroughly.

He had grown accustomed to this long ago. He would have been astonished if suddenly it was otherwise.

“They’re lying there, and flies are on them and carrying disease. You’ll get sick.”

“Stop, Magda. My mother’s there.”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Ra Mahleiné snapped. “Where Myrna’s lying, upstairs, the window is shut and not a fly gets in.”

Lorraine wept.

Gavein helped his wife sit down. He told her about his talk with Medved, though not mentioning the deal he had made. He expected an outburst, but Ra Mahleiné simply asked:

“And you believe they’ll do what you want?”

He didn’t reply to that.

“Medved, not you, said he would call you here?”

“Yes. That I would have an answer, at home.”

“Then he admits they know where we are—and we know what they’ll do now!”

“I don’t think they’ll try to kill me again.”

“That general will pound everything in a radius of five kilometers to a fine powder. There won’t be anything left of us!”

“Medved would warn us. He’s a decent man.”

Actually, he thought, such a solution would not be so bad. Except that, if I am truly Death, nothing will come of the pounding.

Then he felt fear for her. What if she died and he didn’t? The thought was unendurable.

“Gavein, let’s get out of here, quickly. You push the wheelchair.”

The three of them went a couple of streets farther and took shelter on a random porch. Gavein broke a pane of glass, opened the front door, and found a nicely furnished room. The air was musty, the silence broken only by the buzz of flies.

Thompson acted swiftly. Less than an hour later, the drone of copters came from the east. Six black points appeared in the sky and grew larger. The craft were in formation, at a very low altitude, practically brushing the roofs with the bellies of their hulls. No doubt these were the same copters that had bombed the ruins of the DS. From both east and west along 5665 Avenue, divisions of the Guard approached, supported by armored infantry carriers. The copters hovered, waiting for the order to strike.

Gavein, Ra Mahleiné, and Lorraine were too close. He had underestimated the range of the attack. If there was bombing, they would feel it. But to go out on the street now would be like committing suicide. They would only be saving Thompson’s soldiers trouble.

Ra Mahleiné gripped the arms of her wheelchair so tightly, her hands turned white. She sat like the queen of a fallen government, who looks on with dignity and contempt as the enemy troops advance.

“See?” she couldn’t help remarking, at the expense of her royal bearing. “You should have sat quietly! These are scum, killer scum. With that kind you don’t enter into conversations.”

“You were right. Thompson turned out to be even stupider than I thought.”

The copters were close now. It seemed to him that he could hear even the individual blades beat the air. Each copter had two rotors, one in front, one at the rear; on the sides were extended rocket launchers; and beneath the cabins sat remote-control guns. He could practically feel on him the eyes of the pilots through their telescopic sights. They were taking aim…

After the majestically rolling tanks, the soldiers walked. They would move in after the air strike. Gavein didn’t doubt that every street was covered. Thompson was thorough—hadn’t Saalstein commented on that?

The command was given: Gavein felt it instinctively. And at the same moment, something happened that was highly improbable and yet expected now.