by
Edward M. Erdelac
Considine
sat wedged on the damp bench, head bowed beneath the leaky bulkhead of the
sub-ferry between Jelly and Haj, their body armor jabbing his sore joints and
leg painfully.
“You
look like you’ve been shook in a box of nails, Inspector,” Jelly observed.
“I
don’t feel much better than that, Jelly.”
“Don’t
talk to the prisoner, Jelly,” Haj said.
“Come
on, Haj,” Jelly whined. “A couple days ago we were working for him. The
Inspector’s no crook.”
“What
exactly did they tell you, Haj?”
“You
killed a guy up on Avenir. Some guy at Morgenstar Munitions. Fed him to an
autochef, then stole a company fighter and crashed it out in the desert.”
“That
guy fell in the autochef himself, the clumsy sod,” said Considine. “And he killed
Brendermeyer.”
Haj
and Jelly both looked at him at that.
“Brendermeyer’s
dead?” Haj repeated.
“Blown
up, with the same Morgenstar Munitions detonite we confiscated from Croix.
Croix got it from Orin Bantry, the fellow who got turned into meat paste. He
was supposed to blow up the angels.”
“Blow
up the angels?” Jelly perked up.
“The
ones on the edge of the Boatic Trench. They’re keeping something at bay.
Something big and mean down there. This creature, it thinks the world is going
to end, or at least it’s telling people it is, mentally or somesuch. It wants
to get on the Avenir and high tail it.”
“Go
on,” said Haj shaking his head. “So this Bantry fella was what? Mind
controlled?”
“No,
he was a fanatic. Like his boss. Morgenstar.”
“Aloysius
Morgenstar?” Haj said, and now he laughed. “That’s a big one, Inspector.”
“Morgenstar
serves Rahab?” Jelly ventured.
Considine
looked sharply at Jelly and narrowed his eyes. He nodded once.
Jelly
drew his pneumatic pistol and pointed it at Haj.
“What’re
you on, Galveston
“Take
yours out and give it to the Inspector,” Jelly ordered.
“You
scrambled?” Haj chuckled nervously.
“I
mean it, Haj. Two fingers.”
Haj
grimaced and pinched the end of his pistol, slid it from its holster and
dangled it before Considine, who took it and primed it.
“Thanks,
Haj.”
“Don’t
mention it,” Haj murmured.
“When
we dock, you stay on board, ride the ferry back,” Jelly told Haj, reaching
forward and plucking his communicator off his vest.
“Your
stupid beliefs are gonna get you thrown in the brig with him, Jelly,” Haj
warned.
“Better
company than you at least,” Considine quipped. “Jelly, what do you know about
this Rahab thing?”
“The
angels tell us it’s evil, and it trades powerful visions for a man’s life
force. They’ve watched over it for a long time. It takes all of them to keep it
down there. And it’s not alone. There are others like it. Demons.”
“This
is such detritus,” Haj whispered.
“Then
don’t listen!” Considine snapped. “But shut up.”
“So
yeah,” Jelly said, “the angels guard Rahab and the demons.”
“What
about the cataclysm? Is it real?”
“The
priests tell us nothing lasts forever, but that if it does come, Rahab has to
be at the center of it, or his evil will spread to other worlds, and follow
mankind wherever he goes.”
“They
were going to make me do it,” Considine said. “They use these organisms,
implant them in your bodies, they did it to Croix. They’ve got another sub, all
wired to blow and waiting in Zirconia. I’ve seen it,” he said, tapping his own
temple and recalling the image the pilot organism had placed in his mind. “I
remember…it’s in the southwest dock. A one man affair. Blue, with a red stripe.
The number….the number AA-32. Call ahead and have it impounded.”
Jelly
nodded and flipped open his communicator.
“You’re
as crazy as Croix was,” said Haj, shaking his head. “What the hell happened to
you up there, Inspector?”
“I
guess I was illuminated, Haj.”
Jelly
had been talking the whole time. Now he closed his channel and looked over at
Considine.
“I
called the southwest dock controller. He said that sub left Zirconia ten
minutes ago.”
“Damn
it! Did he get a look at the pilot?”
“He
said it was Aloysius Morgenstar.”
