The Gap Into Power - A Dark and Hungry God Arises by Stephen R. Donaldson

Author:Stephen R. Donaldson [Donaldson, Stephen R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780307573315
Publisher: Bantam Spectra; Bantam Books
Published: 1992-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

MIN

y the time the shuttle neared UMCPHQ’s Earthside dock, she began to recover her hearing.

The process was slow. At first only a high, thin wail registered, barely audible: a sound like someone keening in the distance, grieving for the dead—or like the screech of a shuttle’s warning sirens muffled by an EVA suit. For a moment she thought it was the sirens; and her palms caught fire again. But neither the crew nor the other passengers reacted. Gradually the sensation of violence faded from her hands. The wail settled into the background until it became almost subliminal; mere neural feedback from her overstressed eardrums.

Then she seemed to hear the muted hull-roar of the drive as the shuttle fired braking thrust. It, too, was imprecisely audible. Unlike the wail, however, it was real. She could feel the same resonance when she touched one of the bulkheads.

Despite the soundless protests of the crew, she unbelted herself from her g-seat and drifted weightlessly toward the airlock. She wanted to disembark the minute the shuttle finished docking.

One of the crew touched her arm; she turned toward him and watched him speak. From somewhere beyond the wail, behind the hull-roar, she heard him—a voice like the whisper of fabric when her arm brushed her side. “Director Donner, this isn’t safe.”

“If I wanted to be safe”—her voice buzzed in the bones of her skull—“I would choose another line of work.” A moment later she ordered, “Flare Director Dios.” “Flare” was UMCP slang for “contact urgently.” “Tell him I want to see him. Tell him I want to see him now.”

She would have sent that message earlier if she could have trusted her voice through her deafness.

The crewman saluted and went back to his duties.

Her handgun was back in its familiar place on her hip. She’d restored it as soon as she’d gained the relative privacy of the shuttle. Pains filled her body and her head: the residual throbbing in her sinuses, which persisted although her nose no longer bled; the deeper ache of contusions and bruises. But she ignored them. Other hurts were more important.

She wondered if she would be able to hear Warden Dios answer when she asked him questions.

Hints of noises which might have been dock-alerts reached her. That was a good sign. On the other hand, the crews’ routine explanations and announcements were wrapped in silence; baffled by old grief.

When station g pulled her feet to the floor, she keyed open the airlock, equalized the pressure, and cycled the outer doors. By the time the crew had given the other passengers permission to leave their g-seats, she was face-to-face with the nearest guard, telling him to take her to the director.

For all she knew, the familiar authority of her voice came out as hysteria.

Warden Dios must have been expecting her message. Whatever he was doing, he dropped it. No more than five minutes after she left the shuttle, she was with him in one of his secure offices; out of circulation; off the record.

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