The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (25 page)

Morn
was
alive.
And Angus would keep her alive as long as he survived
himself. That victory lifted Warden’s heart when he considered it.

Milos’
treachery didn’t dismay him. From the first he’d planned to lose the former
deputy chief of Com-Mine Security. Making it possible for Milos and his headful
of knowledge to go “over to the Amnion” was the most insidious attack on them
Warden could devise; a crucial gambit in his efforts to protect human space
while he betrayed Holt Fasner’s trust.

Put
baldly, his intent with Milos — as well as one of his several purposes for Morn
and Angus — was to lure the Amnion to commit an act of war which he would be
able to crush, thereby driving them into a psychological retreat just at the
time when humankind was most vulnerable to assault.

Therefore
he wasn’t daunted by the prospect of an Amnioni in pursuit of
Trumpet
.
His gamble with Milos was starting to pay off.

At the
same time, however, he tasted a tentative alarm at the idea that Morn Hyland
had a son; a son the Amnion would risk much to recapture.
Force-grown on
Enablement.
To some extent that explained Nick Succorso’s unauthorised
foray into forbidden space. And it gave the Amnion more reason to risk an
incursion. But how was it possible that the boy had any mind at all, not to
mention a mind that
represents the knowledge necessary to mutate Amnion
indistinguishable from humans?
By what conceivable method were the Amnion
able to “force-grow” a functional human consciousness?

The
image of
Amnion indistinguishable from humans
made his skin crawl.
Genetic kazes of one form or another were the stuff of nightmare. Yet that idea
was less immediately appalling than the bare thought that the Amnion might have
gained the means to achieve near-C velocities. If that were true, his efforts
to protect his species had already begun to go wrong with a vengeance. No
quadrant of human space would ever be safe again.

As for
Hashi’s dealings with
Free Lunch
—

Just
for a moment Warden gave in to an incendiary and betrayed rage. What was Hashi
doing?
Working with the Dragon? Had he gone over to Holt’s side behind Warden’s back?
Was it possible that Warden had been
that
wrong about him?

You
sonofabitch, I know you don’t even know what the truth
is,
but I
trusted
you! I
need
you!

He
couldn’t afford that, however, absolutely could not afford to submit to fury;
not
now.
Too much was at stake. His hopes, even his survival, depended
on his ability to keep his head
right now,
to understand what was going
on and make accurate decisions about it. He’d set himself up for this; set Holt
Fasner up, and most of humankind as well. If he faltered or failed, he might as
well go over to the Amnion himself: the harm he did would be incalculable.

He
brought his torn passions under control just as what he called the “disaster
light” on his console began flashing at him.

When he
was in one of his secure offices, he officially ceased to exist. In theory no
one could find him; no one could reach him. But in practice that was unworkable
— not to mention irresponsible. His duties required that he could be contacted
in the event of an emergency. UMCPHQ Centre accomplished this by activating a
signal in all his offices simultaneously.

It was
too soon — but then everything was always too soon when so much hung in the
balance. At least he’d been given time to read
Punisher’s
report. He
could think about it on the way.

Already
he could see possibilities —

Faced
with a crisis, he mastered himself. His hands were as steady as stones as he
toggled his intercom.

“Dios.”
He announced himself as if he were immune to panic. “What’s going on?”

“Director,”
a young voice from Centre answered quickly. “Sorry for the intrusion, sir. I
didn’t know what else to do.” Too young: the officer on duty sounded like a
kid. “Holt Fasner’s been yelling at us. No disrespect, but I thought he was
going to burst something. He said —” The officer stumbled momentarily on the
words. “Sorry, sir. He said if you don’t get your ass over there in five
minutes, he’s going to feed your balls to his mother.” In chagrin the officer
repeated, “Sorry, sir.”

Five
minutes. Well,
that
was impossible, at any rate. No matter what the
Dragon wanted, he would have to give Warden more time than that.

“Don’t
worry about it,” he told the duty officer. “If I thought you were accountable
for what the Dragon says, I would order you to wash his mouth out.

“Get my
shuttle ready. Tell the crew I’m on my way. Then send CEO Fasner an ETA.”

Warden
clicked off the intercom and rose to his feet. If Holt could count, he would
know that his UMCP director had responded to his summons immediately. Even a
great worm — the term was Hashi’s — couldn’t demand more than that.

Now
more than ever it was vital for Warden Dios to look like a dutiful subordinate.

 _

 _

UMC Home Security
delivered him to the same office where he’d last faced his master. Nothing had
changed physically, either in the room itself or in Holt Fasner. Aside from a
utilitarian desk and a few chairs, the office contained no furniture: the
remaining space was thick with data terminals, display screens, and communications
systems. And the Dragon wasn’t discernibly older. He wore his one hundred fifty
years as if they were sixty or seventy; his heart still beat strongly; the
working of his brain had lost none of its legendary fierceness. His true age
showed only in the odd ruddiness splashed like stains across his cheeks, the
rapid blinking of his eyes, and the way his hands sometimes shook.

Warden
was mildly surprised to see that Holt wasn’t angry. The Dragon’s IR aura
conveyed a mortality which wasn’t obvious to normal sight: it was shot with
acrid hues and fluctuations which Warden associated with hunger, distrust,
connivance; an old and undifferentiated hate. None of that was new, however.
Holt had roared at UMCPHQ Centre with a vehemence he apparently didn’t feel —
or no longer felt.

Warden
didn’t wait for a greeting. He didn’t sit down; didn’t approach the desk. As
soon as the door closed behind him, sealing the room with security screens and
baffles, he said harshly, “I hope you had a good reason for yelling at my people.
They don’t need that, and I don’t like it.”

Holt
fluttered a hand as if he were waving away the needs — or the reality — of
Warden’s people. “Sit down, sit down.” His tone was calm, but it held no
welcome. “Your ‘people,’ as you so naively call them, are more interested in
protecting you than in doing their jobs. I had to get their attention.”

“Why?”
Warden countered. “I don’t ignore you when you summon me. And I don’t keep you
waiting.”

Holt
leaned forward; strange hungers pulsed in his aura. “This is urgent. You know
that as well as I do. You received a report from the Com-Mine belt — a report
on what happened to Billingate. I want to know what it said.”

Warden
made no effort to disguise his bitterness. “I thought you already knew.”

Holt
reacted by jerking up his head. His eyes widened; for a moment they stopped
blinking.

“Now
how in hell would I know that?”

Quickly
Warden studied the Dragon’s emanations, searching them for signs of falsehood.
Routine data sharing between Home Office and UMCPHQ would have included only
the fact of the report’s arrival, not its content. But if Hashi had gone behind
Warden’s back to Holt —

“There’s
a ship out in the belt,” Warden pronounced, “
Free Lunch
, Captain Darrin
Scroyle. He says he’s working for you.”

“Then
he’s a liar,” Holt snapped. “I turned all UMC communications resources over to
you.
I haven’t had either the time or the facilities to set up another net of my
own.

“I’ll
have this” — he spat the name — “this Captain
Scroyle’s
license revoked
and his ship decommissioned by the time you get back to UMCPHQ.”

“Fine,”
Warden growled. “You do that.” Holt’s disgust and indignation were plain;
honest as far as they went. His aura didn’t suggest calculation. He was trying
to evaluate Warden, not conceal subterfuge from him.

So
Hashi had not gone behind Warden’s back. The DA director was playing a
different kind of game.

Warden
found no comfort in that.

It was
certainly plausible that
Free Lunch
had lied to protect herself from
Punisher
.
Having no conscience about the truth himself, Hashi liked working with people
who dissembled well. He seemed to find a specialised pleasure, almost a kind of
exaltation, in the challenge of defining and profiting from other people’s
falsehoods.

“But in
the meantime,” Warden went on without pausing, “maybe you’ll explain why you
assume I wasn’t going to send you a copy of that report?”

“Because,”
Holt retorted, “you don’t look good to me right now. Your dependability is,
shall we say, starting to fray around the edges?

“My
sweet old mother, bless her malicious soul, thinks you’re getting me in
trouble. I always pay close attention when she tells me such things.” Threats
and distrust whetted his tone. “And you went out of your way to confirm her
judgement in that appalling video conference with the GCES. But you didn’t stop
there — not you, in spite of your elevated reputation for good sense. You
appointed this — this Koina Hannish — to replace Godsen without consulting me.
And you sent Joshua against Thanatos Minor under the control of the most accomplished
double-dealing bugger you could find.

“I don’t
want to wait around until you think the time is right to let me know what’s
going on. I prefer hearing the truth in person.”

Grimly
Warden stifled an impulse to rasp back, Fine. Let’s
both
tell the truth.
I’ll tell you why I really sent Angus to Billingate. You tell me what you gain
from this goddamn hostile peace with the Amnion. Tell me why you work so hard
to make sure that nothing we do to protect ourselves is ever quite good enough.
Tell me what’s so absolutely important that you have to misuse and manipulate
me to get it.

He
couldn’t say that: he knew the Dragon too well. And yet in some sense he
had
to tell the truth. There was no choice about it. Holt had too many other
sources of information. As matters stood, he owned the UMCP. And he’d built
Warden’s domain to suit his own purposes. Data-sharing with UMCPHQ Centre wasn’t
his only mechanism for gathering knowledge. If other means failed, he probably
had a dozen strategically placed buggers he could rely on.

“All
right.” To cover himself while he controlled his yearning for honesty, Warden
took a chair and sat down opposite Holt; folded his heavy forearms over his
chest. “You need to know this in any case. Some of it’s out of my province.”
Carefully he prepared himself to offer the bait which he hoped would lure Holt
into a mistake; the one mistake he needed. “And some of it’s just too damn
scary to keep to myself.”

He
wanted Holt to let Morn live. But the Dragon would never do that unless he were
given something that he thought was worth the risk.

Desperation
or providence had supplied Warden with something that might suffice —

“The
report came from Director Donner,” he explained, “but she got it directly from
Trumpet
and flared it to us. It isn’t remotely complete. You have to understand that
Joshua is running for his life. He was betrayed by Milos Taverner, and he’s got
Amnion after him.”

Holt’s
gaze became a hard glare.

“I know
you don’t like the chances I took,” Warden went on, “but Director Lebwohl and I
haven’t been stupid about this. We knew Milos couldn’t be trusted. And we knew
we couldn’t foresee everything that might happen to Joshua. If we tried to
write instruction-sets to control him completely in every situation, then any
problem we hadn’t foreseen might paralyse or kill him. So we gave him alternate
priority-codes — codes Milos didn’t know about — and programmed them to take
effect automatically if Milos betrayed him.

“But if
those codes went into effect, it meant the situation was worse than we thought
it would be. Treachery adds dangers we couldn’t predict. And without Milos to
control him, Joshua might make decisions that multiplied the hazards. Under
those circumstances, we knew we couldn’t afford to let him come back here on his
own. We wouldn’t have any idea what kind of trouble he was bringing with him
until it arrived.

“Director
Lebwohl and I compensated by writing protections into his datacore. If he was
betrayed, his programming requires him to send in a report, activate a homing
signal so we can find him — and then go on the run. Keep himself alive until we
decide what to do about him. That way we’re covered. We can find out what’s
going on before we have to commit ourselves.

“Well,
it all happened. Milos did betray him. His new priority-codes are in effect.
His homing signal and his report confirm that. Now he’s on the run because that’s
how we programmed him. And he’s got Amnion after him because we sent him into a
mess that was worse than we thought it would be.”