The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (9 page)

Because
she knew what was coming, she struggled against it.

“Angus
Thermopyle is a cyborg. The cops sent him to destroy Billingate. That’s bad
enough — letting him get away is bad enough. But there’s worse.

“Nick
Succorso’s priority-codes didn’t work on
Captain’s Fancy
. Haven’t you
figured out yet what that means?”

“What
does it mean, Captain Chatelaine?” Taverner asked steadily.

Sorus
kept her glare on Marc Vestabule. She’d known him longer, distrusted him less;
she feared that if she looked at Taverner she might not be able to control her
desire to punch him in his fat face.

“It
means one of two things.

“
Either
,”
she articulated harshly, holding up one finger like an accusation, “those codes
were never good in the first place. Morn Hyland and Nick Succorso planned the
whole thing together, carried it out together. Their visit to Enablement was a
trick, a ruse — probably one of Hashi Lebwohl’s covert operations. They got
something from you, learned something, set you up for something, I don’t know
what it was. All I know is, it worked. It paralysed you long enough to let them
get away.

“
Or
”
— she raised a second finger beside the first — “Hyland told Succorso she’d
given you his priority-codes
before
he turned her over to you. So he had
time to rewrite them. But that still means Hyland and Succorso must be working
together. Why else would she let him in on a secret like that, when he was
about to sacrifice her? And why else is she still human, if she didn’t get some
kind of immunity drug from him?”

Now
Sorus began to see what lay behind Nick Succorso’s rumour that she herself had
access to such a drug. If Billingate hadn’t been destroyed, neither the Bill
nor anyone else would have left her alone — or let her live. The consequences
of Nick’s lie would have driven her out into space, where he could attack her.

“So the
whole thing was still a ruse,” she concluded. “I don’t know what they were
trying to get from you, but they as sure as hell got
away
with it.

“What
possessed
Calm Horizons
to let them do that? Why didn’t she blast
Trumpet
while she had the chance?”

Milos
Taverner confronted her now as if he and she were alone on the bridge. The
force of his attention seemed to pull her eyes to his. “You ask an important
question, Captain Chatelaine.” His vocal cords, less mutated than Vestabule’s,
nonetheless made his voice sound alien: more spectral than human. “It suggests
another, which is for you to answer.

“When
the ruse was revealed — when
Captain’s Fancy
began to act contrary to
Amnion instructions — why did you not ‘blast’ the vessel? It was within your
power to spare
Tranquil Hegemony
, yet you did not do so. You question
our inaction. Will we not also question yours?”

Sorus
felt the threat: it was palpable and ominous, like static building in the air.
Abruptly she let go of her anger. She couldn’t afford it here. Instead she hid
her fear behind a mask of sardonic confidence — the mask she’d always worn when
she was with the Bill.

Covering
herself while she marshalled her resources, she dropped her gaze to her board
and completed the sequence of commands that reengaged internal spin. At once
the almost subliminal whine of servos and motors filled the bridge as the floor
eased into motion under her. As smooth as oil,
Soar
began to generate
centrifugal inertia. A familiar sense of her own weight settled in her muscles.
Both Vestabule and Taverner were able to relax their clamped postures.

“All
green,” data reported. “Sensors aren’t picking up any rubs or vibrations. Looks
like we’re spinning true.”

“Confirmation?”
Sorus asked scan.

“No,”
the scan first said. “Not yet. I’m sure we’re the only ships here. That whole
fucking rock is gone, and everything else with it. But I can’t see far enough
yet to get an exact fix on anything. We might have instrument tremor, or we
might not.”

Sorus
kept her relief to herself. With a trenchant snort which was as close as she
could come to outright mockery, she answered Taverner, “I didn’t have a choice.
You know that. I couldn’t attack
Captain’s Fancy
because I was busy
rescuing you.

“I hit
her once, hard enough to be sure she wasn’t going to live much longer. After
that I had my hands full trying to take hold of your shuttle without reducing
you to so much g-flattened meat. I had to grab you
carefully
. If I hadn’t
done that — or if I’d left you to concentrate on
Captain’s Fancy
— you
would probably be dead right now.”

Smiling
into his eyes, she thought, Argue with that and be damned.

“Precisely,
Captain Chatelaine.” Taverner retained enough of his human resources to smile
back. “You comprehend the essential concept. Confronted with two conflicting
requirements, you found that one outweighed the other, despite the fact that
both tended toward consequences which were uncertain. Perhaps we” — he made a
stilted gesture that included Vestabule, the shuttle pilot, and the guard — “would
have died. Perhaps not. Perhaps
Captain’s Fancy
would fail to inflict
serious damage on
Tranquil Hegemony
. Again, perhaps not. It is at the
intersection of perhaps and perhaps not that decisiveness exercises itself. You
chose rightly to rescue us. Was it not conceivable that
Tranquil Hegemony
might successfully defend herself?

“
Calm
Horizons
chose not to fire on
Trumpet
because it was conceivable
that
Trumpet
might be captured. Perhaps the destruction of Thanatos
Minor would fail altogether. Perhaps it would be delayed. Perhaps
Trumpet
would come within range of a laser which would cripple her drives without
killing the humans aboard. Confronted with conflicting requirements — to
capture
Trumpet
and to prevent her escape —
Calm Horizons
found
that one outweighed the other. To capture
Trumpet
would prevent her
escape, but to prevent her escape might preclude her capture.”

“The
Amnion understand,” Marc Vestabule inserted in a crusted tone, “that what you
name ‘a ruse’ has been practised against us. Indeed, events suggest that humans
have dealt falsely with us in several ways, or in one way with several
implications. Milos Taverner has spoken of his perception that the actions of
this ‘cyborg’ were directed against us as well as against Billingate in ways
which we do not yet comprehend.”

His
stance conveyed no impatience, no tension; but his human eye blinked
frantically, as if the last of his human emotions had no other outlet.

“Yet
the fact that a ruse was at work has been known to us from the first. On a
previous occasion prior to his union with the Amnion, Milos Taverner informed
us of Captain Nick Succorso’s false dealings on behalf of the United Mining
Companies Police. He informed us of Morn Hyland’s identity as a United Mining Companies
Police ensign. For that reason we sought to retain her body. The tissues of a
UMCP ensign would have yielded much.

“We
have always presumed that their dealings were designed for our harm. We have
allowed their ruse to proceed so that we may learn its meaning, and so that we
may turn it to our own purposes.

“But
this is not an intersection of perhaps and perhaps not, Captain Chatelaine.
This is an incidence of
must
. Action is essential. You are required to
initiate the course and acceleration which
Calm Horizons
has instructed.”

Beyond
question Sorus knew what was coming. But she’d just lost the only place she
might have called home, the only people she might have called friends; her ship
was damaged; and her enemies were gathering — enemies who turned out to have
allies in unexpected places. She had no intention of letting mutated
monstrosities like Marc Vestabule and Milos Taverner make her do their work for
them. Under these circumstances she would have refused a direct order from the
Mind/Union which was the highest source of “decisiveness” she knew of in Amnion
space.

“You
still haven’t answered my original question,” she countered stubbornly. “Why
are we in a hurry?
Trumpet
is gone. We can’t stop her now. What do we
need haste for?”

Vestabule’s
human eyelid fluttered like a signal flag, but his gaze held hers firmly. “Amnion
scan has not yet been restored to full function,” he said. “Therefore data is
imprecise. However, it will be made precise in a short time. At present the
characteristic residue of ‘going into tach’” — that human phrase sounded
awkward on his tongue — “is discernible, despite the bombardment which clouds
your instruments. As distortion fades,
Calm Horizons
will be able to
determine
Trumpet’s
gap vector. Her velocity and acceleration may be
calculated from previous data. What is known of the gap drive parameters of
such vessels will enable us to extrapolate both direction and distance.

“The
results will be approximate,” he finished, “but pursuit will be possible.”

There
it was. Pursuit. She’d known it was coming, but she still hated hearing it said
aloud. Pursue a UMCP ship on UMCP business into human space, where no doubt
there were half a dozen warships waiting to keep trouble off her tail.

“What,
us and
Calm Horizons
?” she protested acidly, not because she expected
Vestabule or Taverner to heed her, but simply because she needed to acknowledge
the weight of mortality hanging from her bones. “Have you considered the
possibility that the pure and righteous UMCP just might consider that an act of
war? Have you considered the possibility that maybe you have more to gain from
this kind of peace than they do, and if you break it you might have to pay
more?”

Taverner
shook his head slowly, as if the movement were one which he’d memorised but
didn’t understand. However, it was Vestabule who answered.

“Once
again you speak of an intersection of perhaps and perhaps not. We have not yet
reached that intersection.
Calm Horizons
will remain in Amnion space.
You will pursue
Trumpet
. You will capture her and her people, if that
goal is attainable. Otherwise you will destroy them.

“But
Calm
Horizons
will come to your support, if it is required. At that
intersection, we will accept the hazard of war rather than permit
Trumpet
to gain safety.”

Nausea
twisted through her stomach as he spoke. An act of war — and
Soar
right
in the middle of it. She was too old for this; she was born too old for it.

“Damn
it,” she objected, knowing that objection was hopeless, “you’re days away from
getting a message to the Mind/Union. How can you take a risk like this on your
own? How do you know the Mind/Union will approve?”

The
decision he’d announced had a human sound, a sound of desperation. Was it
possible, she wondered, that the origins of creatures like Vestabule and
Taverner could affect Amnion decision-making processes; inject an element of
terror which their kind couldn’t recognise?

Whether
that was true or not, Vestabule had no trouble answering her. “We are Amnion,”
he replied flatly. “And we must act. That is required. The perils of inaction
now outweigh those of action.

“To ‘approve’,”
he added, “is not a concept which has meaning in relation to the Mind/Union.”

Facing
Sorus directly, he continued, “You also must act. I will not speak of this
again. You are required to approach
Calm Horizons
at the course and
velocity you have been given.”

No
flicker or variation of his tone betrayed the threat. Nevertheless she saw it
in his eyes. This was a test of wills, of loyalty: his inexorable Amnion
exigencies against her human familiarity with fear.

A test
— but no contest. Since the day when she’d fallen under the power of his kind,
she’d belonged to them body and soul. At the core of herself she’d been
overtaken by a darkness which didn’t bear close examination.

“Do it,”
she told the helm first bitterly. “Course and thrust according to
Calm
Horizons’
instructions. Initiate immediately.”

A
moment later she heard the muted hull-roar of thrust, felt the complex g of
acceleration conflicting with internal spin and the shock wave’s vector. Her
stomach rebelled briefly, then settled back down.

Swivelling
her station so that she could look away from the Amnion, she went on, “Targ,
this would be a good time to run every test you can think of on your systems.”

“Aye,
Captain,” targ responded in a clenched voice. He went to work without raising
his head.

“Scan,
give me status.”

“Almost
clear,” scan replied as if she were accustomed to hearing her captain and the
Amnion argue over
Soar’s
fate. “I still can’t confirm instrument stability,
but we can see well enough to verify what Calm Horizon? is telling us. Except I
can’t pick up any emission trace for a ship going into tach.”

Sorus
dismissed that concern: Amnion scan was better than hers. If
Calm Horizons
reported gap emission, she believed it.