The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (44 page)

I was
floating, and everything was clear. Like a vision. It was like the universe
spoke to me. I got the message, the truth. I knew exactly what to do. What I
had to do. I didn’t question it.

Then
she’d keyed the self-destruct sequence into her board on
Starmaster’s
auxiliary bridge.

From
that crisis — from the undetectable flaw which the gap had found in her brain,
a weakness triggered by heavy g — all her sufferings had followed as if they
were inevitable.

Nevertheless
Davies felt a keen frisson of hope as soon as he heard Nick mention cat.

Nick
thought she needed drugs. He didn’t know it was possible to rig a parallel zone
implant control to replace her black box. He hadn’t discovered that fact for
himself.

And
Angus hadn’t told him.

In
surprise Davies wrenched his head to the side so that he could stare at his
father.

Angus
confronted Nick as if he were waiting for new orders. Still Davies could see
his face —

Davies
hadn’t looked when Angus had attacked him in the galley; hadn’t had a chance.
Now for the first time he saw the black anguish which congested Angus’ face,
the yellow murder in his eyes. Despite the steadiness of his movements, the
poise of his posture, he appeared frantic and homicidal, as if he were crazier
than Morn; as if he’d already been driven completely and irremediably insane.

He took
orders from Nick. But he hated them.

Davies
understood none of it. Nevertheless his heart leaped. Nick didn’t know it was
possible to program a parallel zone implant control, so he couldn’t order Angus
to do it for him.

If you
don’t
tell
me to do it, it won’t get
done
!

Morn,
did you hear that? Do you know what it means?

Giddy
with relief, Davies nodded to Nick. “All right,” he croaked. “I don’t want to
make it worse for her.”

Nick
studied him for a moment, then shrugged at Angus.

With a
twitch like a spasm of revulsion, Angus let his son go.

At once
Davies kicked away toward Vector and the auxiliary engineering console. While
Angus returned to the second’s station, Davies anchored himself by bracing one
knee under the console so that he could keep his good arm free. Glowering to
conceal his relief, he massaged his aching throat.

When
Vector glanced at him, he nodded once, thanking the engineer for several things
simultaneously.

Morn
floated above him in a clenched, foetal ball, as unreachable as if she were on
the other side of the dimensional gap. He left her there for the same reason
that she’d once let Nick give him back to the Amnion: because he had no choice.
And because he didn’t want to risk betraying his hope.

“You’re
obviously in command,” he rasped to Nick. “If Angus takes your orders, the rest
of us can’t fight you.”

Nick
grinned or grimaced as if his scars were on fire. “That’s fucking right.”

“But
you don’t need me here,” Davies went on stubbornly. “I should be in sickbay. It
won’t cost you anything to let me go.”

“Tough
shit,” Nick snapped back. “I don’t care how much any of you hurt. In fact, I
want
you to hurt. It’s a small price to pay for what you’ve done to me. So you’re
going to stay here and” — he broke into a shout — “
pay it
until I’m done
with you!”

Angus
swallowed as if he were having trouble breathing.

Almost
immediately, however, Nick relaxed again. “Who knows? You may find it
interesting.

“Where
the fuck is everybody else?”

“We’re
here,” Mikka said from the head of the companionway.

Her
voice sounded painfully thin, as if she were close to collapse. As she bled,
the damage to her forehead looked worse. Yet she managed to support both Sib
and Ciro, one on each side of her. They were conscious, pallid with strain; but
they couldn’t control their bodies well. Small jerks and twitches shook them as
if their nerves were still under attack.

“We’re
following orders,” she murmured defensively. “It’s hard for people to move
after they’ve had that much stun.”

“Really?”
Nick sneered. “I had no idea.” Then he added, “Get down here before I ask Angus
to do a little surgery on your internal organs.”

Like a
kid about to cry, Ciro buried his face in Mikka’s shoulder. Sib may have wanted
to do the same, but he fought the impulse. Instead he flopped an arm onto the
railing and used it to help Mikka propel the three of them to a handgrip across
the bridge from the auxiliary engineering console.

Slowly
they settled to the deck. Still twitching, Sib separated himself from Mikka to
find another grip, leaving her to hold her brother alone.

“Good.”
Nick relaxed in his g-seat, at home and unassailable at the command station. “Now
we can get started.”

Deliberately
Mikka turned away from him. Across the length of the screens, she asked Vector,
“What happened to you?”

“He
broke Morn’s zone implant control,” Angus put in before Vector could reply;
before Nick could stop him. “Smashed it — cut up his hand. He —”

“Angus,
shut up,” Nick snarled quickly. “Don’t say anything. If I want you to talk, I’ll
ask you a question.”

At once
Angus’ jaws locked together as if they’d been wired closed. Murderous and
thwarted, his eyes ached like wounds.

“God,
Vector,” Mikka breathed. She made no effort to conceal her relief. “You’re a
genius. I should have thought of that myself.”

Vector
gave her a crooked grey smile like a line drawn in a sheet of ash.

Grinning
again, Nick drawled, “No, Mikka. You’ve got it wrong as usual. You should stop
talking and listen. I’m about to explain the facts of life to you mindless,
mutinous shits, and this is your only chance to understand them.”

“Fine,”
Mikka shot back at him. “You do that.” She might have been taunting him, trying
to provoke him into an attack. Despite her bleeding face and her weakness, she
held his gaze. “Let’s see if the ‘facts’ make you look as good as you think.”

For a
moment Nick tightened as if he meant to spring at her. But then he eased back
against the cushions. His eyes glittered with ominous restraint.

“Angus,
if she says another word — any word at all — I want you to use that little
laser of yours on her. Cut off one of her fingers. If she screams or swears or
even groans, cut off another finger. Cut them off one at a time until she
learns how to keep her mouth shut.”

Ciro
wrenched his head away from Mikka’s shoulder, turned his face toward Nick. His
eyes were aghast; white with horror.

Involuntarily
Sib hunched over his stomach, trying to vomit again; but he had nothing left to
bring up.

Overhead
Morn floated motionless, lost in fear and desolation.

“Don’t
push him, Mikka,” Davies warned urgently. “He means it. And Angus will do it.”

We need
you. Morn and I need you.

And we
need to hear what Nick’s going to say.

Mikka
bit down on a retort. She could see Angus’ face as well as Davies could: she
could see that he would do exactly what Nick ordered. With an effort she closed
her eyes, let her shoulders sag; took a deep breath and released it softly.

When
she opened her eyes again, she didn’t speak.

“Shit,”
Nick said to her. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you morons. Don’t you
ever
learn
anything? Davies came in here with a broken arm. Your skull
is in splinters. And you both still think you can mess with me.

“Well,
I’ve got news for you. Your
messing
days are over.” He snapped the words
between his teeth. “I don’t need you. Angus is
mine
— that’s what
counts. Vector I’m going to keep. He can be useful. But the rest of you — You
can all go disembowel yourselves, and it won’t make any difference to me. The
only reason I haven’t killed you already is because I might be able to think of
something better.”

Davies
ignored the threat. He knew it was real, but it changed nothing. And he ignored
Morn as well, although she pulled at his heart: she had to wait. With his good
arm, he hugged his ribs and waited for Nick’s explanation.

“In the
meantime,” Nick went on sardonically, “I’m going to tell you a little story. I
want you to understand what’s going on here, so you’ll
know
I don’t need
you.

“Remember
Com-Mine?” He settled himself in his g-seat. His familiar, dangerous poise made
him seem comfortable, completely at ease. Nevertheless his tone betrayed a raw
edge of bitterness and anger. “Remember framing Angus? Milos and I did that,
but it wasn’t our idea. We had orders from Hashi Lebwohl. From Data fucking
Acquisition. They wanted to get their hands on the infamous Captain
Thermo-pile.”

Angus
didn’t react. Clotted with distress, his eyes showed nothing except malice.

“After
we left Station, they reqqed him from Com-Mine Security, and Milos with him.
Took them both to UMCPHQ. Then they did a little surgery on him — what the poor
old Bill would have called ‘bio-enhancement’. Made him into a cyborg. He has
needle lasers installed in his hands, UV prostheses built into his eyes. He can
emit jamming fields” — Nick glanced at Davies — “which explains how he managed
to get you past all those bugeyes and guards. He has the strength of a fucking
ape.

“But
here’s the important part. His skull is full of zone implants. You feel sorry
for Morn because she has one. He must have at least six. And they’re all run by
a computer. Every neuron in his ugly skull is run by a computer. He has a
datacore somewhere that tells him what to do, tells him everything. The fucking
bastard can’t take a piss without Hashi’s permission.

“Look
at him.” Nick flicked a gesture at Angus. “You can see I’m telling the truth.”

Davies
looked; but he already knew. Nick’s revelation fit. And he could see the truth
in the congealed blackness of Angus’ expression, the pressure of dark blood
straining against the skin. Angus might have been a fanatic, a kaze; a madman
who could set himself off at any moment, blasting the people around him to
pulp. And yet the sheer lost extremity in his eyes showed that he had no
choice.

“He
wants to butcher me.” Nick made a determined effort to sound casual, but his
anger still scraped and sawed in his voice. “If hate could kill, there wouldn’t
be anything left of me but grease. But he can’t do it. His computer controls
him.

“Angus,”
he rasped abruptly, “say, ‘Yes, master’.”

Past
the helpless clench of his jaws, Angus pronounced, “Yes, master.”

Sib
gaped as if he couldn’t imagine the kind of programming which would make Angus
do that. Ciro turned a face full of questions at Mikka, then grabbed her arm to
remind her not to speak.

God!
Davies groaned past the pain in his head and arm and chest. Is it that bad? His
father was ruled by Nick; absolutely under Nick’s control. Nothing Angus had
ever done to Morn was worse than that.

Nick
nodded in brutal satisfaction. His scars were as dark as Angus’ face.

“So why
did DA do all this?” he demanded rhetorically. “You know why. To blow up
Billingate. And rescue Morn. Who else could they send? Who could get in? They
needed an illegal so slimy he wouldn’t be questioned.

“But
that’s not all they needed. They also had to give him cover — a believable
explanation for how he managed to get away from UMCPHQ in a UMCP ship. And they
had to be sure they could keep their grip on him. No matter how good they are,
they couldn’t write an instruction-set for every contingency.

“So
they needed Milos. To cover him. And keep him under control. They gave Milos
priority-codes that would force Angus to do what they wanted.”

Fighting
dismay, Davies concentrated for his life on every word Nick said.

Nick’s
voice trailed away briefly. As if he were talking to himself, he murmured, “I
thought Milos was going to help me. I thought that was why Hashi sent him.”

Davies
imagined he could see
Captain’s Fancy
in Nick’s eyes.

Almost
at once, however, Nick came back to his explanation. “Lucky for us, they had a
pretty accurate idea how far they could trust Milos.” His bitterness sharpened
as he spoke. Words seemed to grate against each other in his mouth. “Hashi
expected problems. When Milos went over to the Amnion, his priority-codes were
automatically replaced.

“Are
you with me so far?” He didn’t appear to be aware that he’d raised his voice. “Angus
does his job on Thanatos Minor. He rescues Morn — and us with her only because
he needed us to break her out. We get away. But now what? Everything he does,
even everything he says, is being run by instruction-sets that are more
obsolete by the hour. As far as Hashi and DA are concerned, he might be
dangerous. He can’t escape his programming — but it’s conceivable his
programming could fail. If something unforeseen creates a logic loop, he might
go into a cyborg’s version of meltdown. Or he might get loose.