Hugh Cook - The Worshippers and the Way

Rockets flared in the dark as Hatch's men began to move toward the ships.

"Come in slowly," said Hatch, manoeuvering himself toward the hull of the enemy ship. "Brake in good time."

And he braked, and let the hugeness of the whalebulk hull drift up toward him. He landed on the skin of leviathan. His knees anticipated the shock, soaked it up. Already strobe lights were blinking on the hull. They marked places where Hatch's men had found access to the interior through rents and ruptures.

Hatch used the rockets of his battle-armor to manoeuver himself to the nearest rent. He entered the ship, moving warily lest he tear his anger on the sharp-fang edges of the hole in the hull. His armor was tough, but, unlike his skin, it had no pain receptors to warn him of damage. If he tore a hole in his armor, he would not know about it until he was dead.

Once inside the ship, Hatch let himself float. The interior was airless, but still lit by emergency electricals. He realized that Lon Oliver's ship was still maintaining a faint degree of artificial gravity, enough for Hatch to be featherweighted down toward the ship's deck. Abruptly that gravity strengthened to full force. Hatch gasped in surprise. Was he all right? So far, so good. He gave a command, and the built-in headlamp of his battlearmor came to life. He wanted to be sure that he would still have lighting if the emergency electricals suddenly failed.

Now where was he?

Every fire alarm inside a MegaCommand was location-coded, so if he could just find a fire alarm, then he would know where he was. Hatch sought such an alarm, found one, checked it, and orientated himself. As he did so, the open broadband channel began to fill with warnings and alarms. His men were running into armed resistance. Some of Lon Oliver's men had managed to get into their battle-armor and were putting up a strong fight.

Where now?

Hatch's mission was very simple. He had no need to kill out the ship. All he needed was Lupus's head. Hatch made his way to the nearest maintenance panel. The panel would be linked to the simple-minded electronic computers which would be running the ship's emergency systems.

Hatch used a chin-switch to put his electromagnetic communicator into the receive-only mode.

"Jack to this panel," said Hatch, talking to his battlearmor, and simultaneously jamming his battle-armor's right fist against the maintenance panel. "Then get access to the emergency computer."

His battle-armor extruded a jack, thrust it deep into a data-access socket, and began to ream the maintenance panel, raping it thoroughly, stripping its defenses and winning the deepest secrets of its privacy.

"We have access to the emergency computer," said the automated voice of Hatch's battle-armor.

"What is the status of the bridge?" said Hatch.

There was a minuscule pause as his battle-armor interrogated the MegaCommand Cruiser's emergency computer. Then:

"The bridge is undamaged," said his battle-armor. "There is full atmosphere and full gravity on the bridge."

"Good," said Hatch. "Is the captain on the bridge?"

Again the pause. Then:

"The captain is on the bridge."

"Good," said Hatch. Then: "Is there pressure in the Central Robotic Maintenance Tube?"

"There is full atmospheric pressure in the Central Robotic Maintenance Tube."

"Are its interior airlocks functional and undamaged?"

"They are functional and undamaged."

"Good," said Hatch. "Disengage."

His battle-armor freed itself from the maintenance panel, and Hatch, ignoring the strident battle-commands, made his way to the Central Robotic Maintenance Tube and entered the outer chamber by way of an airlock.

Hatch looked around the outer chamber. It was empty, as he had expected. This facility was never used except when maintenance robots entered the ship when it was in drydock.

"Right," said Hatch.

Then he began to strip off his armor.

Hatch stripped down to his Standard Gray. He grabbed his sheathed sword, his short and brutal battle-sword, which he had earlier fixed to the back of his deepspace battlearmor, using for that purpose some heavy-duty glue. Hatch wrenched with all his strength and tore the sword free from the armor.

Then Hatch began to make his way along the Central Robotic Maintenance Tube. If this lost pressure, he would die. But he had no option. This was the fastest way to the bridge, and the tube was so small that there was barely room for him to crawl along it.

It would be impossible for a man in vacuum armor to enter that tube.

Hatch crawled the length of the tube, and exited by way of an airlock in chamber devoted to the storage and maintenance of the ship's robotic cleaning machines. This gave him access to the kitchens, and from the kitchens he gained access to the officers' mess. Hatch entered the mess, which was bare and functional, devoid of personality. Hatch unsheathed his sword, discarded the scabbard, and ventured down the short corridor which led to the bridge.

Hatch went striding down the corridor, and entered the bridge. All those on the bridge were focused on display screens.

Asodo Hatch closed the distance to the seat where Lupus Lon Oliver sat.

"Lupus," said Hatch, speaking softly, quietly.

Lupus Lon Oliver looked up.

"Hi," said Hatch.

Then brought his sword slamming down.

Lupus dodged from the blade, almost but not quite evading it.

The blade slammed against skullbone and sliced away a crescent of blood, cutting away an ear in the course of its butchering.

Lupus scrambled to his feet, and as he scrambled he tried to pull his sidearm from his belt. Hatch whacked him on the side of the head with the flat of his blade. Lupus staggered. Hatch kicked his legs from under him. Lupus crashed down, deadweight falling.

Hatch, panting, steadied himself, steadied his breath, then said:

"Lupus."

Lupus looked up. And Hatch chopped down. Lupus tried to pull away. Blade chopped into bone. Stunned but not dead, the wounded Lupus groped on the deck. All around the bridge, men were leaping from their consoles. The fastest-witted starwarriors were already sprinting toward Hatch.

But there was time, there was plenty of time for Hatch to swing into an executioner's stance, and this he did, and he brought his sword down hard and fast. Hatch chopped two-handed.

His blade impacted with flesh. With bone. But Lon Oliver's head was still attached to the neck by a hinge of skin and flesh. A mighty man was Asodo Hatch, but it had been a long time since he had chopped off anyone's head, and he had quite lost the knack of it.

"Well, the hell with it," said Hatch. "It's a killing, not a sacrifice."

Then he threw back his head and laughed, and was still laughing as the first attacker slammed into him, taking him down in a tackle. Down went Hatch, the world wavering as if he had taken a deep-sea dive, and when the world ceased to waver -

Dalar ken Halvar: a political briefing. In the absence of the Silver Emperor, a revolution by the Yara – the Unreal underclass – has prompted the Free Corps and the Imperial Guard to seize control in a coup. The coup-makers, who have yet to secure proper control of the city, have been unable to prevent the Yara from setting much of the city alight in widespread rioting.

Asodo Hatch, who has enemies amongst the Free Corps, and who is opposed to the coup, is sheltering in the Combat College in company with his wife Talanta, his daughter Onica, his sister Penelope, and his lover, the Lady Iro Murasaki. All these – and a certain moneylender by the name of Polk – are likely to meet a swift yet unpleasant death if forced out of the Combat College.

Hatch has been competing in battle with Lupus Lon Oliver, son of Manfred Gan Oliver, the prize being a permanent position in the Combat College as instructor. Hatch has succeeded in killing Lupus in the world of the illusion tanks, but has yet to encompass his enemy's death in the world of the fact and the flesh.