The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (24 page)

He
needed to know what was in that message.

His
fear wasn’t Koina’s problem, however. She hadn’t caused it, and couldn’t cure
it. In fact, he had no one but himself to blame for it. He hadn’t warned Min
Donner to be secretive; hadn’t ordered her to conduct
Punisher’s
operations as if they were in any way different than any other UMCPED action.
Instead he’d left her free to contact him in a way which would inevitably come
to the Dragon’s attention.

By an
act of will, he let nothing of what he felt show on his face in front of the PR
director. Years of planning and searching to recover his compromised integrity
had taught him at least that much self-abnegation.

Immaculate
and self-possessed, she watched him expectantly while he tapped a key to pause
the scrolling of his readout. If she’d had a IR scanner like his prosthesis,
she could have seen his turmoil; but of course she wasn’t afflicted with
artificial devices and perceptions — or with artificial loyalties like the ones
which had doomed Godsen Frik. Warden saw her clearly enough to know that she
brought nothing into his office except her honesty; her commitment to her job.

Nevertheless
she was tense; emanations of strain coloured her aura. If she was honest, she
wasn’t done.

Indicating
his readout, he told her, “This is urgent. I need to deal with it. Is there
anything else we should talk about before I let you go?”

He’d
been so difficult to track down, so preoccupied by the subtle and dangerous
implications of the information he’d been given by Hashi Lebwohl, that by the
time he’d granted Koina a private conference, she’d accumulated a substantial
list of matters for discussion. But he’d already covered a number of items with
her, primarily Special Counsel Maxim Igensard’s demands for data and
explanation, similar requests from such GCES Members as Vest Martingale and Sigurd
Carsin, and generalised appeals for co-operation and pacification from Abrim
Len. For the most part, he’d simply reassured her that he did indeed want her
to carry out her duties as she thought right. In particular he’d reaffirmed the
importance of “full disclosure” to the GCES — although he hadn’t offered to
fill in any of the gaps which prevented her “disclosure” from being truly “full.”

Yet
while they’d talked his heart had ached, as it ached more and more these days.
God! why did he have to
say
these things? Was he so wholly compromised
that his own people found him impossible to trust?

What
was left?

Which
parts of his complex and hermetic plotting had begun to spring leaks?

“Just
one more,” she assured him. Her manner remained calm despite the sudden
increase in her tension; as loud to his prosthetic eye as a shout. “I took it
to Director Lebwohl first because, frankly, I wasn’t sure
what
to do.
But he urged me to bring it to you, which was what I preferred in any case.”

Hashi,
Warden thought. Again. First the DA director received information about events
on Thanatos Minor from a source Warden didn’t know about — provocative
information, ominous information. And now Warden learned that he acted as the
Director of Protocol’s confidant and counsellor. What was going on? Was Warden’s
old shame making him jump at shadows, or was
everybody
trying to
manipulate him?

“Director”
— for a fraction of an instant Koina nearly faltered — “I’ve received a
personal flare from Captain Sixten Vertigus. The United Western Bloc Senior
Member,” she added unnecessarily. “He feared that he was taking a serious risk
by contacting me, but he felt — well, he said” — she quoted  Captain Vertigus
easily — “‘I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror on those few
occasions when I wake up if I didn’t warn you.’”

“‘Warn
you’?” Warden put in more abruptly than he intended. He was in a
hurry.

Koina
faced him firmly. “Director, he told me that as soon as the GCES reconvenes —
which will probably be within the next twenty-four hours — he intends to
introduce a Bill of Severance which will separate us from the UMC.”

She
paused, allowing Warden a moment to absorb this revelation. Then she continued.

“He
believes that’s the reason he was attacked, to stop him. And he believes Godsen
was killed on the assumption that Protocol must have been working with him. For
the same reason, he believes I might be next.” She shrugged slightly. “He felt
he had to warn me, despite the risk.”

Warden
was too full of impatience: he couldn’t stifle all of it. Cursing the raw edge
in his voice, he demanded, “What risk is that?”

In
response she lowered her gaze. Min wouldn’t have done that; but in other ways
Koina reminded him of the DA director in the old days — before he’d begun to
inspire so much outrage.

“The
risk that we might tell the Dragon,” she answered. “The risk that warning me
might give the UMC and the UMCP time to work against him together.”

Damn!
Damn it to
hell!
Unable to contain himself any longer, Warden rose to
his feet as if he were dismissing the PR director. Her qualms filled him with
an acid chagrin, corrosive and bitter.

He
watched her stand opposite him. Then he pronounced harshly, “Hashi was wrong.
We shouldn’t be talking about this. We shouldn’t know about it at all. As of
right now, we
don’t
know about it. You’ve forgotten everything Captain
Vertigus said on the subject, and if you made any record of your conversation,
I hope you believe in an afterlife, because I won’t take pity on you in this
one.

“If and
when the question of a Bill of Severance comes to your attention through
normal,
public
channels, our position is one of strict and absolute
neutrality. We have no opinion, for or against. Our only legal authority for
what we do comes from the GCES, and it is the proper business of the GCES to
make decisions about that authority. We accept those decisions, whatever they
might be. We are the police, not the government. We have neither the competence
nor the wisdom to sway the Council concerning a Bill of Severance.

“Have I
made myself clear?”

“Not
completely.” Koina didn’t hesitate to use her beauty, when she needed it. Her
eyes were limpid and kind, and her mouth smiled with an endearing quirk; even
her tone suggested affection. Only her words themselves conveyed a challenge. “Are
we going to take the same position with Holt Fasner?”

However,
Warden was in no mood for her defences — or her challenge. His shoulders
hunched in a clench of disgust, which he deflected into a shrug. “Koina, do I
look like a man who has the time to stand here lying to you?” Making a virtue
of necessity, he let his exasperation show in his voice. “Of
course
we’re
going to take the same position. It’s the right position.” Then he admitted
frankly, “It’s also the only one we can afford.”

At once
— and smoothly, as if the transition were easy — she became all brisk
professionalism. “Thank you, Director.” Already she’d turned for the door. “I’ll
get out of your way now and let you do some real work.”

Without
his IR sight, he would have had no way of knowing that she’d been touched by
his answer, or that she accepted it.

Muttering
imprecations at his lack of self-command, he stopped her. Before he keyed the
door — before he opened the security envelope which kept their conversation
private — he told her quietly, “By the way, I don’t think you’re in any danger.”

She
raised a delicate eyebrow, smiling as if she considered the question purely
academic. “Why not?”

“Because
Captain Vertigus is wrong. That’s not what this is about.”

“I see.”
She considered his answer for a moment, then asked, “What is it about?”

He had
no intention of telling her that; her or anyone else. “Watch the next GCES
session,” he returned. “It might give you some ideas.”

To keep
her from saying anything else, he keyed the door and waved her through it.

The
instant she was gone he sat down and faced Min’s message.

A
tremor of anxiety he didn’t bother to control afflicted his hands as he tapped
his console. He could afford to be cryptic with Koina Hannish; but with himself
he needed facts and accuracy. Without them he would never be ready to face the
Dragon.

How
much time did he have left before Holt summoned him to demand an accounting?
Would he be left alone long enough to make his own decisions and act on them,
or would everything that followed from this moment be directed and shaped by
Holt Fasner’s purposes?

How
soon would the Dragon learn the truth about him?

Growling
softly through his teeth, he forced his one human eye into focus on the
readout.

He
noted the time-stamp and origination co-ordinates — Min’s message had taken
roughly seven hours to reach him by gap courier drone from the far side of the
Com-Mine belt — but ignored all the rest of the secondary codes and data. He
wanted the substance of the transmission.

When he
found it, however, his heart lurched; missed a beat.

The
report began with a copy of a flare from
Trumpet
to UMCPHQ.

No
doubt the original of that message was still in transit, being carried
Earthward by the listening post’s regular drone service. Min had used one of
Punisher’s
few courier drones because she felt her information couldn’t wait that long.

Warden
shut down his recognition of his unsteady pulse and trembling hands; shut down
his fear; shut down his awareness of ticking time; and read.

Isaac
to Warden Dios, personal and
urgent,
the
flare from Angus began.
Mission to Thanatos Minor successful.

Gabriel
priority activated. Milos Taverner has gone over to the Amnion.

Personnel
aboard include survivors from
Captain’s Fancy
:
Morn Hyland, Davies Hyland, Nick Succorso, Mikka Vasaczk, Ciro Vasaczk, Vector
Shaheed.

Amnion
vessels in pursuit.

Urgent.
The Amnion know about the mutagen immunity drug in Nick Succorso’s
possession. It is possible that they have obtained a sample of the drug from
Morn Hyland’s blood.

Urgent.
Davies Hyland is Morn Hyland’s son, force-grown on Enablement
Station. The Amnion want him. They believe he represents the knowledge
necessary to mutate Amnion indistinguishable from humans.

Urgent.
The Amnion are experimenting with specialised gap drives to achieve
near-C velocities for their warships. Nick Succorso and his people have direct
knowledge of this.

We
will try to survive until new programming is received.

Message
ends. Isaac.

Warden
could have stopped then; wanted to stop so that he could take all this in and
find space for it among his complex priorities. He needed an opportunity to
connect it to what he’d learned from Hashi; needed a chance to celebrate and
worry. Morn was alive! Angus had gained that much for him, whatever else
happened. But Min’s report went on at much greater length, and he had to know
it all.

What
followed after
Trumpet’s
flare was a literal extract from
Punisher’s
datacore, beginning when the cruiser had reached her position near forbidden
space on the far side of the Com-Mine belt. Typical of Min: the data was
unedited; devoid of commentary or interpretation. She refused either to do
Warden’s work for him or to risk slanting his perceptions. He had to consider
every detail in order to pan out the nuggets.

The
nuggets were there, however. He identified them without trying to evaluate them
yet.

Angus’
programming still held:
Trumpet
had reached human space, flared a
report, and activated her homing signal exactly according to his prewritten
instructions. A ship from forbidden space — presumably an Amnioni herself, or
an Amnion proxy was heading across the frontier very much as if she were in
pursuit of
Trumpet
. For that reason among others,
Punisher
was
leaving the belt to chase the gap scout.

And
then there was the matter of
Free Lunch
, owner and captain Darrin
Scroyle, an apparently legal merchanter drifting right on top of the listening
post Angus had risked his ship and his life to reach.
Free Lunch
claimed
that she had some kind of contract with Cleatus Fane — in other words, with
Holt Fasner — to observe and report events from forbidden space. Warden didn’t
dismiss that explanation, but he jumped to another of his own.
Free Lunch
was Hashi’s unexplained source for his knowledge of events on Thanatos Minor.
This Warden deduced from the strange fact that Darrin Scroyle — or Cleatus Fane
— had seen fit to route
Free Lunch’s
transmission through UMCPDA.

It all
looked like chaos; but Warden couldn’t afford to think like that, couldn’t let
his conflicting emotions overwhelm him now. He’d put most of this in motion
himself; perhaps all of it. If he lost his composure, if he failed to haul
events into the kind of order he needed, then real chaos would result — pure,
brutal, self-destructive anarchy.