“She deserved to die,” Diu replied, framing the words with big shrugs. “Escaping from Marrow that way. Too soon, and without warning anyone. Nearly alerting the Master to our presence. How did that help the Wayward cause?”
Locke opened his mouth, and waited.
“She was dangerous,” Diu assured. “Everything you want and deserve was at risk because of her and because of Miocene.”
A deep breath filled Locke’s chest, then lay there growing stale.
“But let’s forget your mother’s despicable, endurable crimes,” Diu continued. “There’s another offender. Someone who’s potentially far more dangerous to the Waywards, and to the Builders’ great cause.”
“Who?”
Diu growled, “Please,” and shook his head in disgust.
Then he rose to his feet, saying, “You had an assignment. A clear duty. But instead of doing your duty, you rushed off to that alien house as soon as you had the chance. And I want to know why, son. Why was it so fucking important to go there?”
Locke turned in a quick circle, but Submaster Hazz had vanished.
“Tell me,” Diu pressed.
“Don’t you know why?”
“What I know,” he replied with a rasping voice,’is inconsequential. What I don’t know, and what matters here, is your response.”
Locke said nothing.
“Were you hoping to find your mother?” Nothing.
“Because you couldn’t have. You and Till couldn’t recover her body more than a century ago. What good could you accomplish by going there alone?”
“I don’t need to explain—”
“Wrong!’ Diu interrupted. “You do! Because I don’t think you know what you want. For this last horrible century, you’ve been nothing but lost.” His father shook his head, saying, “I’m not asking these questions to soothe my arrogant soul. I’m asking for the sake of your miserable one.” Then he laughed in a large, tormenting way, adding, “What? Did you think that being dead was easy? That the Builders would simply ignore your last-breath crimes…?”
“I did nothing wrong!”
“The old Master was digging her way toward Marrow, but the Waywards never knew how she found the old hole. Chances are, a routine search had turned up that hidden doorway’ Diu closed his eyes for a long moment. Then he opened them again, acting angry to find his son still standing before him. “You went to that leech house… you went to see if the old Master had been there first. Because if she had been, then she might have realized where Washen was. And maybe, just maybe, your mother had been rescued. Admit that much to your father, Locke. Go on.”
“Fine. I admit it.”
“Maybe you were afraid that nobody had found your mother, and you wanted to help her. A noble sentiment, always.”
Nothing.
“Because a long burn was coming,” Diu continued. “The longest in many centuries. And what if her remains were piped into one of the engines, then incinerated? What if that happened before you, the dutiful son, could pull her to safety?”
Locke took a new breath, holding it close to his panicking heart.
“Tell me that’s the truth,” Diu snapped.
“It’s true.”
The Diu said, “You’re lying,” with a crisp, dismissive confidence. “Don’t try to fool your old father, Locke. I know a little something about telling lies.”
Trembling hands tugged at the breechcloth.
“The fuel tank is a vast ocean of hydrogen—one of several—and what are the odds that Washen would be yanked out of her grave?” Diu rose and took a step toward Locke, and with the gray eyes staring, he asked, “What are the odds that she would ever be found? Shattered and scattered like she was… Washen could have lain in the depths forever, and except for you and Till, and Miocene… who would have known…?”
Locke didn’t reply.
“About your mother’s little clock,” said Diu.
Locke’s eyes grew large and simple, and exceptionally sad. Softly, almost too softly to be heard, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“You and Till cleaned the leech house. It took days and you had minimal resources, but you did an exemplary job of things. Considering.” Diu smiled as if he could see everything, and he remarked, “It’s so very odd, isn’t it? Such a good job of hiding your tracks, yet that one critical clue went unnoticed. Left behind, buried deep in the plastic leech wall—”
Locke gave a low, pained moan.
“It makes a person wonder,” his father continued. “Was it overlooked by chance? Or was it purposely ignored?”
Wide shoulders slumped forward, and Locke stared at his bare toes.
“Or did someone find her clock… hold it in his own hands, perhaps… then willfully leave it where someone else would have to eventually come across it…? Which is precisely what you hoped would happen, isn’t it…?”
“Am I right about that, son…?”
“Till wasn’t watching your work, because he trusted you. And you left behind a sign. A marker. Because you wanted very much for your mother to be found…”
Locke opened his mouth, then closed it. Then with a new defiance, he screamed, “No. I won’t tell you-!”
But Diu wasn’t standing before him. Not anymore.
Locke blinked and felt his body sagging, hopelessness mixed with relief. Then a warm hand took him on the bare shoulder, and he turned into her, knowing it was her, crying in the soft angry way of a man who knows that he has been fooled and who discovers that really, at the heart of things, he doesn’t even care…
“What is this place, and these dead men…?”
“Just another corner of the ship,” Washen assured him, holding him tight around his back and the back of his head. “Pamir found it before he found my clock. An AI lives here. With my help, it created Hazz. And your father. With its help, I watched your reactions, and parts of your nervous system.”
“You read my mind?”
She said, “Never,” and relaxed her arms, letting him pull away and look into her face before she confessed, “You didn’t see Wayward soldiers. No one shot at us. That was a different performance, existing as false data fed straight to your eyes and ears. And you’re certainly not dead now”
Relief bled into a guilty, self-aware grimace.
“It’s just us,” she promised.
“Pamir?”
“He’s doing other work now.” She sat on the petrified toadstool, never taking her eyes off Locke. “There’s nobody else. Tell me what you want to tell me. Then if you wish, I’ll let you go back to Till. Or just sit here.” She waited a half-moment, then added, “And if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll accept that, too. All right?”
Locke sighed, glancing at his own empty hands.
Finally, quietly, he announced, “I think I will. Explain things. Maybe.”
Washen struggled to say nothing and to choke down her excitement. Instead, she nodded, and with a gentle voice asked, “How is our home?”
“Changed,” he blurted. Wide, astonished eyes lifted. “You don’t realize, Mother. This has been a very long century…!”
Locke couldn’t stop talking, the words coming out under pressure.
“By the time I was home, the Loyalists were gone. Conquered. Dissolved. There were so many sympathizers and outright believers inside your borders that it was an easy invasion. Hazz City was clean and quiet, and very little had changed.” He paused, then said, “For a while.” He raked his golden hair with both hands, explaining, “Till and I returned, and Till had me detonate Diu s charges, closing the shaft overhead. Then Till gave a speech to everyone. Standing in your main temple, with Miocene’s head at his feet, he told everyone how our societies would join, and everyone would be stronger for joining, and we were part of the Builder’s ultimate plans, and soon, soon, soon everything would be explained.” He breathed quickly, deeply. Then, “You wouldn’t know Marrow. It’s a very strange place now.”