Hugh Cook - The Worshippers and the Way

Lupus Lon Oliver broke from the slob, gasping for air, and Shona kicked him in the head, elbowed Echo, spat in Dog Java's face, then reached into the slob and rescued Hatch, dragged him free and hauled him out of Forum Three.

In the corridor outside, Onica was screaming, clutching tight to her mother, who was herself being supported by the Lady Iro Murasaki.

"I hate this place!" sobbed Onica. "I hate it! I hate it! I want to leave!"

Hatch comforted and calmed her as best he could, knowing that leaving was the last thing they could do with Dalar ken Halvar in the grip of riot.

"Enough of that!" said Shona, thinking this was no time for comforting. "Let's get out of here!"

And she led them one and all to the shelter of her own room, into which security they packed themselves, until Paraban Senk accessed the room via its communications screen, and assured them that the Combat College was once more safe and orderly.

Nu-chala-nuth: a fanatic religion of the Nexus. Asodo Hatch, long a student of Nu-chala-nuth, has abandoned his own faith for that of the People. True, he declared himself for Nu-chala-nuth in an illusion tank. But all things are one as far as the gods and their worshippers are concerned – an illusion tank being no more Real or Unreal than that greater illusion known as the World of the Flesh and the Fact. As far as the Frangoni are concerned, Asodo Hatch is now an apostate, a blasphemer, accursed of his birth, his fate linked not with the Frangoni but with the People of the Nu-chala-nuth.

Deny the gods? Then die!

For who denies the gods denies

The mother-father-family, the all – Which then to live were blasphemy, the unclean flesh Defiant of its death, but doomed to die.

With riot subdued and order restored, those scheduled to leave the Combat College packed up, then took their final pay and spent it. With the last of their Combat College pay they bought goods freshly fabricated by the marvelous machineries of the Nexus: books, bolts of cloth, blocks of chocolate, toys and such minor medicines as could be freely bought from the canteen. Then for one last time they made their way through the cream-colored corridors to the lockway. After an earlier lapse, the lighting near the lockway had been restored to normal. But as for the dorgi – ah, that was quite abnormal, for that mechanized dog-beast had withdrawn to its lair, where it was sulking.

The inner airlock filled with members of the graduating class and their possessions. Once full, it closed.

A scattering of Combat Cadets, Startroopers and guests were left to wait for the next cycle. Among them, Manfred Gan Oliver and his son Lupus.

"I will see you shortly," said Gan Oliver pleasantly, addressing his comment to Hatch.

Lupus said nothing. Trying, perhaps, not to cry.

"We will meet when we meet," said Hatch, wishing to see the man gone, "but I have some sleep to catch up on before I think of leaving here."

"You and yours will necessarily leave the Combat College soon," said Gan Oliver. "I will be waiting for you. I will be waiting to supervise your deaths."

This was said in an everyday conversational tone.

"I'm sure you will prove a most competent executioner," said Hatch, matching Gan Oliver in tone.

Asodo Hatch was far too tired to be originating style. Had Gan Oliver screamed and yelled, then Hatch would have matched him in his histrionics.

When Gan Oliver had been cycled through the airlock, Hatch began to feel safe. He made his way to the Combat College cafeteria, to which his wife had been taken by Shona. Hatch found Talanta upset. She was crying. From the intensity of her grief, Hatch immediately divined that someone had told her what Hatch had done – had told her that he had rejected his god.

"Love," said Hatch, trying to persuade himself that she was, or had been, or could be his love.

"Go away," she said.

Where was the rhetoric when Hatch needed it most? Where were the great speeches? Where was the flowing eloquence? In the face of this most intimate and most personal emotional crisis, he found himself almost mute.

"My love," said Hatch, touching Talanta lightly, lightly on the arm.

"Go away!"

Was this command seriously intended? Or was it an invitation for Hatch to further explore the strategies of comfort?

"I'll stay with her," said Shona, laying a hand on Hatch's shoulder. "You go to your room."

Hatch took this advice, and went striding away through the corridors of the Combat College.

– I have denied my god.

– I have denied my god.

Over and over, those words spoke themselves his mind. He had declared himself in public. He could not undeclared his testimony.

– But at least.

– At least I won myself a chance.

– A fighting chance.

A fighting chance. That was what he had won. No more, no less. He had killed Lupus Lon Oliver in an illusion tank battle.

But Lupus remained unkilled in the real world – and Lupus would doubtless kill Hatch for real if given half a chance. Hatch's throat still hurt where Lupus had tried to strangle him.

– So what have I got?

– What resources?

– To hurt him, to kill him?

– I'm the instructor. So.

– Information!

The realization struck Hatch with the force of a physical blow. As instructor, he now had access to all Combat College files previously denied to him. Or almost all. Certainly he would look at his own file. And that held on the Silver Emperor – just in case it might give him a clue as to where that worthy had vanished to. Then he would look at all data held on Lupus Lon Oliver.

Through the corridors of cream went Asodo Hatch, to the room which had been his for so many years. There in that room, unchanged, were his father's ashes and the ebony effigy of the Great God Mokaragash. Same room, same man, same ashes and selfsame idol.

Yet all had changed.

"Fates," said Hatch, feeling the full force of his difficulties falling upon him, falling like blanketweights of black and smothering snow.

Still, he had done what he had done, and now he had to face up to the consequences. Could he hope for help from Paraban Senk?

Could he hope for counsel and advice? Probably not. If anything, Senk would probably tell Hatch to go on holiday. Seven days, wasn't it? Yes, that was it. The triumphant instructor was automatically given a seven day promotion furlough. Ha! A joke, that. A bad joke. There were no time for holidays now. Hatch had won his competitive examination, but his true trials were only beginning.

Hatch slumped into the seat in front of his room's display screen. He knuckled his fists to his skull. Grief, but he was tired. Well now: what first? What was he looking for? Data.

Secrets. Information. Leverage.

"Access," said Hatch, addressing himself to the screen.

In answer to his command, the face of Paraban Senk came to life on his display screen.

"Congratulations on your appointment," said Senk. "You did well. You surprised me."

"I surprised myself," said Hatch, in frank confession.

"Then perhaps you will surprise both of us further in the future," said Senk. "In earlier negotiations you said you could seize Dalar ken Halvar for the Nu-chala-nuth. Can you tell me how you plan to do this?"

"I'm working on it," said Hatch. "Tell me how things now stand in Dalar ken Halvar."

So Senk gave Hatch a rundown of all the data which Senk had gleaned from watching the kinema by means of the Eye of Delusions, and by listening to (or explictly interrogating) the various Combat Cadets, Startroopers and invited guests who had come and gone as Hatch and Lupus were dueling. Senk believed that, though the lower orders had looted freely under cover of night, the Imperial Guard and the Free Corps now had the city under temporary control.