Takk racked his brain for other prophecies that matched the situation, but came up empty. There was nothing in the prophecies that said anything about someone like Acuna antagonizing someone like this Creek fellow. This didn't entirely surprise Takk, either. There's not a prophecy for everything in the universe, even if one is willing to deconstruct the writing down to its most general and symbolic level. Dwellin was understandably focused on the issues surrounding the Evolved Lamb and its trials; he'd naturally skip parts here and there. From what Takk understood of the background of the prophecies and Dwellin, by the end he was well-nigh incoherent off of alcohol and cheap over-the-counter pharmaceuticals. It would have been difficult for him to develop and sustain more than one prophetic narrative.
Acuna shot Creek in the arm; Creek, who been propping himself up with the arm, fell back to the floor, bleeding and moaning. Robin screamed.
"Oh, God, oh God," she said. "Oh God, Harry. Help us, Please help us." She started repeating the sentence, with variations, for the next several seconds.
And it was here that Takk recognized a situation similar to another prophecy—or if not an exact situation, at least a situation where one of Dwelliris exhortation stanzas could certainly apply:
Lo! The Lamb stands not alone but with those
Who see themselves within it.
He who helps the Lamb helps himself.
He who serves the Lamb saves himself.
Dwellin wrote this particular stanza at a time when Andrea Hayter-Ross experimented with holding back the pitiful allowance she provided him, just to see what he would do. Dwellin wrote this stanza, among others vaguely hinting that it was good to serve the Lamb (at the last minute prior to sending them to Hayter-Ross, he excised one of the more desperate ones in which he flat-out asked for cash), and was also shortly thereafter arrested at a Vons supermarket for stealing a Clark Bar. Hayter-Ross paid his bail, and in one of the rare moments where she felt bad about making Dwellin jump through silly hoops, gave him a bonus on his cash installment and took him out to dinner at a smorgasbord.
Takk knew nothing of this backstory, nor would it have mattered to him if he had. What mattered to him was the Lamb was asking for help—and that by asking for it, had invited Takk to help himself as well.
Truth to be told, Takk was getting tired of the Ftruu. It was overwhelming and exciting and even a little gratifying at first—a nice adventure and an interesting way to see the universe. But over the last few months and especially the last few days, what Takk mostly felt was tired. Tired of living with the criminal element, which was not an especially invigorating element in any meaningful sense, tired of feeling the obligation of trying forbidden things, tired of meeting new people only in circumstances where he beat them or ate them.
In other words, Takk was primed for a religious epiphany, and as he watched Acuna jam his boot into Creek's face, one hammered into him with lightning-hot intensity. His time of Ftruu was over, suddenly and irrevocably, and thank God for that. It was time for him to make the choice to return to the ranks of the moral, and to those engaged in the process of bettering the universe, not destroying it as a way to get they wanted; people like the Nidu ambassador or the human Jean Schroeder or even Rod Acuna, who didn't actually want much of anything other than to be angry and get paid for it
Acuna lifted his gun again to aim at Creek's head; Robin turned into Takk's chest to avoid the scene, still whispering for help. With one enormous paw, Takk swiftly but gently moved Robin aside, stepped forward, opened his insides, and sent his intestinal tendrils whipping toward Acuna. One hooked Acuna's arm just as he fired his gun, twisting the barrel to the right and ricocheting the bullet off the concrete floor into the wall. The gun flew from the surprised Acuna's hand. Other tendrils hooked and wrapped around Acuna's legs, waist and neck. In less than a second Acuna was secured in Takk's constrictive grip.
Acuna nevertheless managed to crane his neck, Takk's tendril hooks tearing his flesh as he did so, to get a glimpse of the Nagch.
"What the fuck axe you doing?" Acuna managed to croak out.
"I'm serving the Lamb," Takk replied, and with a mighty jerk swallowed Acuna whole.
"Holy Christ," Brian said to Creek, who was sitting at the comm center's terminal. "What the hell happened to you? You look worse than usual."
"Let's skip the pleasantries," Creek said. "Just tell me what"s going on."
Brian did, catching up Creek with tales of lawsuits, usurpations, church schemes, and intelligent computers waging the Barde of Pajmhi over and over and over and over. And then he told Creek what he learned from Andrea Hayter-Ross. Creek sighed and put his head into his (right) hand.
"You look tired," Brian said.
"I look like I've been shot in the arm and kicked in the face," Creek said.
"That too," Brian said. "But I meant besides mat."
"I am tired," Creek said. "I want this whole thing to go away."
"It's not going to go away," Brian said, as gently as he could. "You know that."
"I know," Creek said. "But I'm telling you what, Brian, the next time your brother comes to me asking me to run a computer search for him, I'm going to punch his goddamn lights out. Where is he, by the way?"
"He's on the way to Nidu with the secretary of state for the coronation, for whomever it will be for, whenever it may happen. Where's Robin?"
"She's outside, talking to a new friend of hers," Creek said. "Or should I say, a new follower?" Creek outlined the events of the last several minutes.
"Never a dull moment with you around," Brian said.
"Despite my preference to the contrary," Creek said.
"Are you sure she's safe with that thing?" Brian said.
"He could have let Acuna kill me and take her," Creek said. "If he wanted to do anything bad to her, that would have been the time. I also gave her Acuna's gun. How is the Neverland?"
"She's safe," Brian said. "Safe as can be expected, anyway. The British Columbia is keeping the Nidu off of her. And the Nidu are keeping the British Columbia from sending a shuttle to pick you up. Everyone up there has taken the safety off the trigger but they're keeping their iron in the holster. I think they're waiting to hear about you and Robin."
Creek sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I'm going out to talk to her now. She's going to like all of this even less than I do."
"It's the only thing that will work," Brian said. "And it will work. We'll make it work."
Creek smiled. "We better," he said. "Don't go anywhere, Brian. I'll be right back."
"I'll be here," Brian said.
Creek got up gingerly so as not to bump his injured arm, which was now in a sling; at Robin's request Takk had gone to the pod and retrieved the first aid kit. Creek went outside to see Robin and Takk standing and talking; seeing him approach, Robin turned to Creek and smiled.
"Tell me you got everything to work," she said.
"Everything works," Creek said, and turned to Takk. "Would you excuse us for a moment, Takk? I need to talk Robin for a minute."
Takk reached over and touched Robin on the arm. "We'll talk about this some more later," he said.
Robin squeezed his paw. "I'd really like that," she said. Takk departed.
"Nice to have a fan club," Creek said.
"No kidding," Robin said. "Although all this stuff about the 'Evolved Lamb' makes me nervous. Takk seems really nice—as nice as you can be and eat people, I mean—but I hope he's not going to be too upset when he eventually figures out I'm not some sort of mystical creature."