Empire Of Man 3 - March to the Stars (8 page)

“But you're a Satanist. You keep referring to 'His Wickedness,' so why does the concept of evil bother you?” Roger asked, his tone honestly perplexed, and Kosutic shrugged again.

“At first the organized opposition to the College was purely secular. The Resistance actually had a clause in its manifesto calling for an end to all religion, always. But the planet was too steeped in religious thought for that to work, and the Tellers, the Determiners of Truth, insisted on referring to anyone in the Resistance as 'minions of Satan.' ”

“So instead of trying to fight the label, you embraced it for yourselves.”

“And changed it,” Kosutic agreed. “We won eventually, and part of the peace settlement was a freedom of religion clause in the Constitution. But by that time, the Satanists were the majority religion, and Christianity—or, at least, Armagh's version of it—had completely discredited itself. There's a really ancient saw that says that if Satan ever replaced God, he'd have to act the same. And to be a religion for the good of all, which was what we'd intended from the outset, we had to be good. The difference between Armaghan Satanism and Catholicism is a rejection of the supremacy of the Pope, a few bells and whistles we stole from Wicca, and referring to Satan instead of the Trinity. It really is Episcopalianism, for Satanists, which makes your bishop comparison even more humorous.”

She'd been watching the training entry team as she spoke, and now she grimaced as Bebi flinched. The exercise was simple, “baby steps” designed to get the Marines back into the close-combat mode of thinking. But despite that, the team hadn't taken the simple security precaution of checking all corners of the room for threats, and the “enemy” hiding behind a pillar had just taken out the team leader.

“It's the little things in life,” she muttered.

“Yep,” Roger agreed. “They don't seem to be doing all that well.”

He watched as Macek “responded” to the threat by uncovering his own area. At which point another hidden enemy took advantage of the lack of security to take out Berent. Kosutic's nostrils flared, and Roger grinned mentally as he pictured the blistering critique of the exercise she was undoubtedly compiling. But the sergeant major was one of those people for whom multitasking came naturally, and she resumed her explanation even as she watched Berent become a casualty.

“One of the big differences between the Church of Rome and Armaghan Satanism is our emphasis on the Final Conflict and the preparations for it,” she continued, her expression now deadly serious. “We believe that the Christians are dupes, that if God was really in charge, things would be better. It's our belief that Lucifer was cast out not by God, but by the other angels, and that they have silenced The One True God. It's our job, in the Final Conflict, to uphold the forces of good and win this time.”

She turned to face the prince fully, and smiled at his widened eyes. It was not an especially winsome expression.

“We take that belief very seriously, Your Highness. There's a reason that Armagh, a low-population planet, supplies three percent of all the Imperial Marines, and somewhere around ten percent of all the elite forces. The Precepts of the Elders call for all good Satanists to be ready for the Final Conflict at all times. To uphold good in all their doings, and to be morally upright so that when the time comes to free God from the Chains of the Angels, we won't be found wanting.”

She turned back to watch the training and shook her head.

“I mention this only to note that the Brotherhood of Baal would eat Bebi's team for lunch. The Brotherhood has used the Imperial freedom of religion clause to perform some tinkering on themselves that gives most of the rest of us Satanists cold chills. I doubt that any court would consider an abbott of Baal human if he or she didn't have documents to prove it. But you have to see them to believe it.”

Roger watched as Bebi collected his “dead” and “wounded” and started the debrief.

“I imagine that Christians are . . . somewhat ambivalent about that approach.”

“We don't preach,” Kosutic said. “We don't proselytize. We certainly don't discuss our beliefs around the general public. And, frankly, we believe that as long as Christians and Jews and Muslims are being 'good,' they're violating the intent of their controllers. So we applaud them for it.” She turned and gave him a truly evil smile. “It really confuses them.”

Roger chuckled and shook his head as Despreaux began enumerating the team's faults. The plan had been good, but when they'd hit the door, they'd forgotten it and fought by the seat of their pants. They had, in fact, been fighting the way they would have fought Mardukans. But the next major conflict would probably put Bravo Company—what was left of it—up against humans. True, those humans would probably be pirate scum and garrison troopers, but standard colonial defenses called for space-intercept capable plasma cannon, monomolecular “twist” wire, and bunkers with interlocking fields of fire. And then they had to capture a ship.

It wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

“Well,” Roger said with a sigh. “I just hope whoever the 'good guys' are, they're on our side.”

* * *

Captain Pahner looked around the cramped cabin. The one fault of Ima Hooker's design, which no one had considered in advance, was that the schooner had never been intended as a command ship. Poertena had recognized the necessity of designing around higher deckheads to allow more head room for the towering Mardukans of her crew. There was a limit to what he could do, but the final result—however claustrophobic the natives might still find it—was that even the tallest of the humans could stand upright without worrying about hitting his head on a deck beam. But however the ship might have been stretched vertically, there was only so much that could be done horizontally in a hull of Hooker's length and beam. Despite the fact that Pahner, or Prince Roger, rather, had a minimal “staff,” its members packed into the wardroom of the command schooner only with difficulty. Especially the Mardukans.

And that was before adding Roger's pet. Or his asi “bodyguard.”

“All right,” Pahner said with a grim smile. “We need to keep this meeting short, if for no other reason than so that Rastar can unbend his neck.”

He looked over at Rastar Komas Ta'Norton, who stood hunched forward with his horns banging on the ceiling. The former prince of the Northern League wasn't large for a Mardukan, but he still towered over the humans.

“How're the civan doing?” the captain continued.

“As well as could be expected,” the Northerner said with a shrug. The ostrichlike, omnivorous cavalry mounts were actually related to the vastly larger packbeasts, so they had leathery skin and were more capable of handling desiccation than the slime coated, amphibian-derived Mardukans. But they still weren't well-suited to a lengthy sea voyage. “They fit into these toys as well as we do, and they never had to deal with the pitching and rocking before. At least they have more head room aboard Snarleyow than we do here, and that outsized coll fish has stretched their feed supply nicely, but they aren't happy. We haven't lost any, yet, but we need to get to land soon.”

“According to our map, we should,” Julian commented. He tapped his pad, and an image of the large island or small continent they were approaching floated into view. “This is as detailed a zoom as I can get from the world map we had. It appears there's only one main river, and that it travels in a sort of semicircle through a good part of the continent. There should be a city on or near its mouth, and that should be less than three more days sailing from where we are right now—assuming this line of islands extends from the eastern chain.”

“The spaceport is on the central plateau,” O'Casey added, “and the continent is . . . extensively mountainous. In fact, it makes Nepal look flat—the province or the planet. Travel to the spaceport may take some time, and it could be arduous.”

“Oh, no!” Roger chuckled. “Not an arduous march!”

Pahner grinned momentarily, but then shook his head.

“It's an important point, Your Highness. Coll oil or no, we're short on dietary supplements, and there won't be any more coll fish to get oil from once we head inland. That means we're short on time, too, so traveling through that region had better be fast.”

“We have the additional problem of overhead coverage, Captain,” Kosutic pointed out. “From here on out, we need to consider our emissions. If we're able to hear them, and we have been, then they can hear us, if they're listening. And they can also detect our heavy weapons. Plasma cannons especially.”

“Also, Sir,” Julian said diffidently, “it's likely that the people from the ships visit more than just the starport. There are always tourists, even on planets where the local critters can't wait to eat them. We need to keep that in mind.”

“Noted and agree.” Pahner nodded. “Anything else?”

“The Diasprans,” Despreaux commented. “They're . . . not happy.”

Pahner turned to Fain. The infantry captain was still settling in to command Yair's old company (and the transferred survivors of his own, original command), but he was continuing to demonstrate an impressive capacity for assuming additional responsibilities. He was also working out well as Roger's aide-de-camp, and he'd ended up being the regular liaison to the human command conferences, despite being junior to the other two Diaspran commanders.

“Comments, Captain?” Pahner invited, and Fain rubbed a horn gently.

“It's the water. And . . . the space, I suppose.”

“It's the lack of a chaplain,” Kosutic snorted.

“Perhaps.” Fain shrugged. “We probably should have brought a priest. But they didn't like the God in such abundance. It was troubling for them. And now, it's becoming troubling to the men, as well.”

“The Diasprans are having a spiritual crisis, Captain,” Kosutic explained.

“Not all that surprisingly,” O'Casey snorted. The prince's chief of staff was a historian's historian, with a specialization in anthropology (human and nonhuman) and political history and theory. Those interest areas had made her an ideal choice as a tutor for a member of the Imperial Family, the position from which she had segued into the then-unenviable assignment as Prince Roger the Fop's chief of staff. They'd also made her absolutely invaluable in the trek across Marduk.

For all that, though, she'd been frustrated on more than one occasion by the tyrannical time pressure which had prevented her from spending long enough with any one of the cultures they'd encountered to feel that she'd truly had time to study it on its own terms. Too much of the expertise and analyses she'd been called upon to deliver had been based on little more than hurried, off-the-cuff analogies. That was the way she saw it, at least, although every Bronze Barbarian—and Roger—recognized the fact that her “off-the-cuff analogies” had done at least as much as the plasma cannons to get them this far alive.

This voyage, however, had finally offered her an opportunity to sit down and do some of the detailed study she loved so dearly, and Roger knew that one of the primary sources she'd spent hours with was The Book of the Water, the oldest and most sacred of the Diasprans' religious texts.

“It's not at all surprising that the Diaspran religion worked out the way it did,” she said now. It was apparent to Roger that she was choosing her words and tone carefully, no doubt out of consideration for Krindi Fain's beliefs. “After all, they have historical—and accurate—proof that the God of Water is the only reason Diaspra exists.”

“It is?” Despreaux asked.

“Yes,” O'Casey confirmed, and nodded at Dobrescu. “Despite the inadequacies of our database on Marduk, Mr. Dobrescu and I have managed to confirm Roger's original observation on the day we first met Cord. It may seem ridiculous, given the climate we've encountered here, but this planet actually experienced a fairly recent period of glaciation. It produced the rock formations Roger observed then . . . and must also have killed off a substantial proportion of the planet's total population.”

“Hell, yes!” Roger snorted, remembering how dreadfully vulnerable Cord and his nephews had been to the mountainous climate they had encountered crossing from Marshad to the Valley of Ran Tai. What humans regarded as little more than a pleasantly cool morning had been well-nigh fatal to the cold-blooded Mardukans.

“As you know,” O'Casey continued, "this planet has only a very slight axial tilt, which gives it a relatively narrow equatorial belt. As nearly as Chief Dobrescu and I have been able to figure out, just about everyone outside that narrow zone must have been killed by the climatic changes involved when the glaciation set in. Geologically speaking, it was extremely recent, as well, which probably explains why the planetary population is so low, despite a climate—now—which permits several crops a year.

“There were, however, some isolated enclaves of Mardukans who survived outside the equatorial zone. The only one of those on which we have any specific documentation, so far, was Diaspra.”

“The lake!” Roger said, snapping his fingers suddenly, and O'Casey nodded.

“Exactly. Remember how incredibly ancient the buildings around those volcanic springs looked?” She shrugged. “That's because the Diaspran priesthood is entirely correct about how old their city really is. There's been a city on that site since before the glaciers; it was the heat output of the volcanic springs that made it possible for that city's population to survive. No wonder they look upon water as the preserving miracle of all life!”

“That explains a lot,” Kosutic said, tipping thoughtfully back in her chair. “Have you loaded The Book of the Water into your toot, Eleanor?” The chief of staff nodded. “Then can I get you to download a translation of it to mine after supper?”

“Of course,” O'Casey agreed.

“Good! I'll be looking forward to reading it, because I'm pretty sure it will flesh out what I've already picked up from talking to people like Krindi here.” She pointed at Fain with her chin. “In the meantime, though, I think I've already got enough of the handle on their theology to see where our current problem lies.”

She turned her attention back to Roger and Pahner.