The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (104 page)

He saw
Vector ahead of him, at the suit locker. Vector had almost finished struggling
into his EVA suit. While Morn and Davies slid toward him, he sealed his helmet,
closed the faceplate, activated the suit’s systems. Then, anchored on a
handgrip, he crouched near the wall to help Davies stop Morn at the sickbay
door.

More g.
Davies was barely strong enough to straighten his legs. How much did he weigh
now? Twice what he should? More?

With
Vector’s assistance, he climbed to his feet at the door, levered Morn high
enough so that he could lock his arms around her chest.

The
external speaker on Vector’s suit crackled. “I’ve never done this before,” he
said distantly. “I hope there’s no hurry. I won’t be able to reach Angus and
bring him in quickly.”

“Do
what you can,” Davies grunted. “Sickbay needs time to take care of Morn.”

Now
Vector didn’t ask what had happened to her. G increased by the second: soon
movement would become impossible. He keyed open the sickbay door for Davies,
then turned away to heave himself up the handgrips toward the lift.

Davies
staggered backward into sickbay, dragging Morn with him.

The
lower wall of the room seemed to loom under him, as deep as the singularity’s
well. If he and Morn fell down there, he would never have the strength to raise
her to the surgical table.

But if
he hesitated, the danger would only get worse —

He
gasped a hard breath, tensed his legs. A desperate lunge carried him across the
gap between the door and the end of the table, missing by millimetres a plunge
which might have broken his bones as well as more of Morn’s. The impact of the
table on his ribs snatched a cry from his clenched throat.

Fortunately
his task became easier then. Lift her onto the table with her legs downward.
Secure a g-sheath and restraints around her, leaving her shattered arm free.
Settle her wrist, forearm, and upper arm firmly into passive clamps provided by
the surgical apparatus. Key the cybernetic systems for automatic diagnosis and
treatment; automatic g protection.

Done.
The g-sheath and restraints held her. The sickbay equipment would take care of
her as well as it could.

He’d
stopped breathing effectively. The gravity well dragged more air out of him
with each exhalation, let him inhale less. By now he knew that he wouldn’t be
able to regain the bridge. No matter what he’d said to Mikka, he couldn’t leave
this room until
Trumpet
won free of the black hole. The effort would
kill him.

He didn’t
try to talk to her, tell her he was staying with Morn. The intercom was
entirely out of reach. Instead he folded himself carefully to the deck, then
released the table and slid to the lower wall. There he stretched out with his
back against the bulkhead to endure the brutal seconds while Mikka Vasaczk
fought to save the ship.

If
Angus could still breathe, he’d already survived worse than this — much worse —
without the benefit of a padded g-seat and belts; without so much as a wall at
his back. But Davies didn’t really believe that his father was alive. If Angus
continued drawing in air and letting it out, that was only because his smashed
bones and pulped flesh didn’t have enough sense to die.

Three
times his own weight squeezed Davies into the junction of the deck and wall.
And the stress increased constantly. Soon he would be helpless to do anything
except pass out.

But
while he clung to consciousness he found that he couldn’t prevent himself from
grieving for both his parents. Or for himself.

 _

 _

Nearly an hour elapsed
before Vector brought Angus in.

By that
time g had ceased to be a factor.
Trumpet
was well away from the black
hole, moving easily at last toward the fringes of the swarm.

Sib
Mackern had been left for dead. His friends hadn’t had any other choice.

Limping
and sore, as if he’d been cudgelled from head to foot, Davies had returned to
the bridge as soon as he could, resumed his place at the second’s station. He
was there, working scan and communications while Mikka picked
Trumpet’s
way among the rocks, when his intercom speaker snapped to life, and Vector
announced, “I have him. We’re in the airlock. As soon as it cycles, I’ll take
him to sickbay.”

The
former engineer sounded cruelly exhausted. An arthritic pain seemed to throb in
the background of his voice. Still his tone suggested that he was proud of
himself.

Davies
was nearly exhausted as well; sore to the bone; drained of energy. More and
more he felt like a little kid who might start to cry at any moment. What he
wanted more than anything was to give responsibility for the ship to someone
else. Return to watching over Morn and let the rest go. The need for revenge
had lost its hold on him. He didn’t think he could afford the effort. His
mortality was too heavy for him.

He
couldn’t imagine feeling proud of anything he did.

Fearing
the worst, he asked Vector wanly, “How is he?”

The
unmistakable hiss of the airlock came across the intercom as atmosphere
accumulated around Vector, transmitting vibrations to his helmet pickup.

“According
to his suit indicators,” he answered, “he’s intact. Relatively. He’s
unconscious and dehydrated. I can see some bleeding. There may be other
problems.” No EVA suit had instruments to measure internal haemorrhaging, or
the condition of vital organs. “It looks like all of his systems red-lined
while he was out there.

“But
his suit thinks he’s going to be all right.”

A
sudden tightness closed Davies’ throat. For a moment he felt sure he was going
to weep.

But he’d
already made too many mistakes; let too many essential details slip past him.
He needed to stay in control.
Trumpet
was far from safe.
Soar
might
still be alive; might still be hunting the gap scout. That UMCP cruiser,
Punisher
,
was presumably somewhere in the VI system, tracking
Trumpet
for her own
— or Warden Dios’ — dangerous reasons. And the gap scout had already been
attacked by one strange vessel. Where there was one, there could easily be
more.

Trumpet
wouldn’t be out of immediate danger until she escaped the swarm and
acquired enough velocity to go into tach.

Cursing
to beat back his weakness, Davies rasped into his pickup, “Can you take him to
sickbay? Morn’s there. She’s probably done by now.” How much could he ask
Vector to do? He didn’t know. Roughly he added, “She should be in her cabin.”

“Take
him to sickbay?” Vector echoed. He sounded vague, as if he were falling asleep.
“Take Morn to her cabin? In zero g? I think I can handle it.”

Then he
went on more strongly, “But I have to tell you, Davies, I’m tired of not
knowing what’s going on. Being outside in that much g was the hardest thing I’ve
ever done. I didn’t think I was ever going to reach Angus — or keep my grip on
him when I did. And I didn’t exactly relish the prospect of being sucked into a
black hole. I’m not Deaner Beckmann.” His tone hinted at a fleeting smile. “It
bothered me that I didn’t know why I had to do it. Whenever I think I’m about
to end up dead, I can’t help wanting to know why.”

Slowly
— she did everything slowly now that
Trumpet
was out of the well — Mikka
tapped a toggle to open a ship-wide intercom channel.

“Tell
him,” she said to Davies flatly. “And tell Ciro. They both need to know.”

She
didn’t mention her own needs. Maybe she’d gleaned everything she could absorb
from the log. Or maybe in some basic way she’d temporarily ceased to exist for
herself.

Instinctively
Davies shied away from her demand. He’d made too many errors, forgotten too
much, served the ship and her people too poorly. Now he feared that if he
thought about all the things he couldn’t forgive, his weakness might overwhelm
him.

Nevertheless
he knew that Mikka was right.

Precisely
because he felt so weak, he had to act strong.

She
watched him dully as he faced his pickup.

“None
of this was my idea,” he rasped, coercing himself with fierceness, “or Morn’s.
Angus set it up.”

Remember
that. Remember who kept us alive.

“We
thought we were following
Soar
out of the swarm, but she managed to get
behind us. Then we ran into
Free Lunch
.” Davies had fired at her
stupidly, without so much as focusing targ. “Morn told you about her. Angus
wasn’t sure how to fight her, so we headed back into the swarm. He wanted to
deal with
Soar
first, before we had to face
Free Lunch
again.

“Angus
didn’t leave us any choice.” Davies tried to make his meaning unmistakable. He
hadn’t saved
Trumpet
himself: everyone aboard would have died if their
lives had depended on him. “He set the ship to play dead — I guess he thought
he could lure
Soar
in. He programmed everything he wanted. Then he took
that portable matter cannon of his and went outside.

“Before
we could move,
Free Lunch
caught up with us. She started firing at
Soar
.”
Grimly Davies described what he and Morn had done; what he knew of Angus’
actions. Then he grated, “It should have been impossible, but it worked.
Free
Lunch
fell into the black hole. Maybe
Soar
did, too — I don’t know.
I’m assuming she’s still around somewhere, trying to find us.

“Breaking
out of the gravity well wasn’t easy. We never had a chance to let Angus come
back inside. G shattered Morn’s arm.” He had no intention of explaining that
she’d caused her own injury. He didn’t think he could bear to say that aloud. “And
we couldn’t go back for Sib.” He swallowed once, fiercely. “By now he’s dead.
If the black hole or the fighting didn’t kill him, he ran out of air.”

Brave,
terrified Sib Mackern deserved a better farewell; but Davies couldn’t think of
anything else to say.

“At the
moment we’re safe. Sort of. We’re following our old course out of the swarm. We
still haven’t caught any sign of
Soar
. Maybe we’ll know more when this
rock starts to thin out, and scan can see farther.”

He
glanced at Mikka to see whether she was satisfied. But she wasn’t looking at
him. She sat in her g-seat with her head back and her good eye closed, resting
briefly while she listened.

His
readouts told him that the lift had reached the central passage. Soon Angus
would be in sickbay. After that Davies could key his board to call up a display
of Angus’ condition from the sickbay systems. If he had the nerve — If he
wanted to be reminded that no one was left to relieve him of responsibility.

He didn’t
try to answer that question. Instead he returned his attention to the intercom.

“In the
meantime,” he went on, “there are other things you should know.” Now that he
was done remembering his mistakes — at least temporarily — he could speak more
easily. “I’ve been learning my way around communications, and I’ve found two
more details Angus must have programmed before he went outside.”

Decisions
Angus had made without consulting anyone; not even Morn.

“One is
that we’re already broadcasting Vector’s message. And I mean
broadcasting
.
We’re spraying it in all directions as loud as we can. Nobody can hear us yet.
There’s too much rock in the way, too much static. But as soon as we reach the
fringes of the swarm,
some
body is going to receive this transmission.
Once we’re past the rocks, VI won’t be able to avoid hearing us.”

Not to
mention every other ship in this quadrant of the Massif-5 system.

“Unfortunately
that’ll make us
very
easy to spot. We might as well shout our location
at anybody who wants to find us.”

Davies
paused. Mikka blinked her eyes open, turned a look like a groan in his
direction.

“That’s
all right,” Vector put in. His helmet no longer constricted his voice. He was
using the sickbay intercom. “The risk is worth it. We don’t need much time to
make sure Valdor hears that message. Then we’ve won. It won’t matter if
Soar
gets us. It won’t even matter if
Calm Horizons
herself comes after
us. VI will know about the immunity drug.

“Humankind
will finally have a defence that works.”

Davies
nodded wearily, even though Vector couldn’t see him. “In any case, there’s no
point in postponing transmission until we’re out of trouble. Angus made sure of
that.”

Mikka
lowered her wounded face into her hands as if she were afraid to hear what was
coming.

“The
other thing he did,” Davies explained, “was activate a homing signal. A Class-1
UMCP homing signal, emergency trace-and-follow. It doesn’t just tell where we
are, it gives co-ordinates, course, and velocity. If we go into tach, it
includes our gap drive parameters and settings.” So that any UMCP vessel in
pursuit would know where to reacquire the signal. “That must be how
Punisher
got close enough to reach us with a message. She knew exactly where we were.