The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (64 page)

“Did
Ciro come here?” she choked out.

Sib
shook his head.

“Damn
it!” She beat her fists on her hips in frustration and alarm. Damn damn damn.
Now what could she do? How could she find him?

“What’s
happened?” Sib whispered thinly as if he feared that Security might be
eavesdropping.

Panting,
she told him. Her voice caught as she finished, “And
Soar
is here. In
dock. I don’t know how she found us, but she’s here.”

Sorus
Chatelaine had cut Nick —

“Wait a
minute,” Sib murmured. “I don’t understand. You think this has to do with her?
How?”

Her
fists swung harder. “He separated us so we’d be vulnerable. Especially Ciro.”

“But
why?” Sib protested. “What’s he trying to do?”

Mikka
was accustomed to her own competence; to knowing what to do — and being able to
do it. But now she felt stunned by the danger Ciro was in.

“I don’t
know.
I’m just sure. He separated us so Chatelaine could get at one of
us. Maybe he just wants to get rid of us. I don’t think so. It’s not that
simple. He’s trying to set
her
up somehow.”

Sib
chewed his lower lip. His eyes seemed to stare past her. She feared that he
didn’t believe her; that he was thinking of ways to argue with her. After a
moment, however, he surprised her by saying, “Then we’d better go over there.”
His fear was plain on his face. “Maybe we can find him. Or maybe — if we warn
her” — he grimaced like a wince — “she’ll give him back.”

A
gratitude Mikka couldn’t name turned her heart to water. Trying to manage her
sudden weakness, she objected, “We don’t know the way.”

Sib
didn’t look at her. Instead he turned back to the terminal. With a few keys, he
bypassed the General Stores req protocols to access the Lab’s public
information programs. They included schematic maps for most of the
installation. Presumably Deaner Beckmann didn’t want new residents getting
lost.

Mikka
told Sib which dock
Soar
occupied, then watched over his shoulder while
he scrolled through the maps to discover where that berth lay in relation to
General Stores. But she let him search by himself. Another fear had occurred to
her. The weak water of her heart was becoming acid.

“If we
do this,” she murmured softly, “Nick will tear Morn’s heart out.”

Sib
ducked his head, rubbed sweat or apprehension out of his eyes. Still
whispering, he replied, “She’ll understand. She would do the same thing.”

Then he
pointed at the screen. “There.” He’d called up a series of red blips to
indicate the most direct route between General Stores and
Soar’s
berth.

Mikka
had the strange impression that he’d somehow become stronger than she was.
Nevertheless she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.” She couldn’t afford to falter
now.

He
keyed off the terminal, turned to accompany her — and stopped as Chief Retledge
came into the room.

Retledge
had another guard with him. Both men made a point of the way they gripped their
impact pistols.

The
Security chief faced Mikka with a humourless smile.

“There you
are,” he drawled. “When it comes to wandering off, you’re as bad as Pup. I don’t
know why Captain Succorso bothers to give you orders. You obviously don’t pay
any attention to them.” Then he nodded brusquely to Sib. “No offence, Mr.
Mackern. At least you have enough sense to stay where you’re put.”

Mikka
swallowed a howl; locked her arms across her chest so that she wouldn’t raise
her fists. Through her teeth she told Retledge, “In effect I’m Captain Succorso’s
second. While he’s busy with Dr. Shaheed, I thought of a few things we need. I
considered it my duty to make sure Pup put them on his req.

“Your
man Klimpt told me he’d ‘wandered off’,” she continued. “I came here to see if
he was with Mr. Mackern.”

“Of
course,” Retledge rasped. “Naturally I believe you. You don’t look like a woman
who wants trouble.

“But
just to be on the safe side,” he added, “I’m leaving Vestele here with you.”
Scowling, the other guard tightened his hand on his gun. “He’ll make sure you
keep the rest of your ‘duties’ to yourself until Captain Succorso wants you.

“As for
Klimpt,” Retledge finished, “I’ll have his ears for this. Dr. Beckmann doesn’t
tolerate incompetence.”

Familiar
with the thin g, he turned hard and strode out of the room.

Vestele
aimed his scowl like a warning at Mikka and then Sib. Slowly he withdrew to the
entryway, putting a little extra distance between himself and the possibility
of attack. After that, however, some of his tension or distrust eased. He let
go of his pistol and raised his hand to tap his right ear.

“I’m
wearing a PCR.” His tone was unexpectedly mild. “I’ll know when they find Pup.
I won’t keep it to myself. And if Captain Succorso asks for you, I’ll hear the
message.”

Mikka
should have thanked him for his consideration. She meant to. But she didn’t
have the strength. Her legs folded under her, and she sank to the floor.
Clamping her arms around her knees to keep what was left of her heart from
leaking away, she put her head down and closed her eyes.

Nick
had found her weak point — the place where her defences failed. Nothing he’d
ever done to her had hurt like this. Even his most casual seduction and callous
rejection had left her whole by comparison; essentially intact despite her
grief and anger; still able to function. Now, however, she was in so much pain
that she literally couldn’t stand. Everything in her quailed. The harm which
Nick and Sorus Chatelaine might do her brother was too great to be borne.

He
deserved better.

Sib
murmured her name a few times, but she didn’t react. Eventually he fell silent
and left her alone.

 _

 _

In one sense the wait was
painfully long; in another, surprisingly short. She didn’t measure it. Instead
she hugged her knees and rode the long solar wind of her distress until Vestele
surprised her out of herself by clearing his throat.

She
looked up in time to see him lift his hand halfway to his right ear, cock his
head as if he were listening. For a moment his attention seemed to slide
elsewhere.

Without
realising it she surged to her feet.

The
cramped vehemence of her muscles sent her toward the ceiling. At once the guard’s
eyes jerked into focus on her: he raised his gun as if he thought she might
attack him. But Sib caught her arm, held her back. As she touched the floor
again, she opened her hands and showed them to Vestele so he could see that she
was harmless.

Vestele
kept his pistol aimed at her; but the pressure of his grip loosened.

“What
is it?” Sib asked tensely. “What did you hear?”

Vestele’s
reply was cautious. “They found Pup. For some reason he was in one of the
service corridors outside the cargo dock. Said he was lost — said he was trying
to find Captain Succorso and just got lost.” The guard refrained from
commenting on the plausibility of this. “He’s being held in the entry room.
Where Dr. Beckmann greeted you.”

“Is
he—?” Mikka’s throat choked shut before she could finish the question. Relief
and alarm filled her chest until she could hardly breathe.

“Is he
all right?” Vestele asked for her. “Centre says so. He looks scared out of his
mind — maybe scared enough to be telling the truth — but he isn’t hurt.”

Mikka
gulped for air. “Take me to him.”

The
guard shook his head. His gun didn’t waver. “Sorry. Chief Retledge wants you to
stay here. Until we hear from Captain Succorso.” Then he added more considerately,
“Don’t worry. Pup will be safe. We don’t want trouble any more than you do.”

She was
tempted to yell at him; threaten him; try to bluff her way past him. A deep
sense of uselessness stopped her. She’d never been equal to Nick’s schemes: he
was always ahead of her. Ever since she’d fallen under his spell and joined his
ship, her competence had been a mask for this futility — a way of concealing
from herself the fact that she meant nothing and accomplished less. What she
thought or wanted or did only mattered to people who were as substantially
ineffectual as she was.

People
like Ciro and Sib. Vector.

Morn
and Davies.

She
didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say.

“What
is it you want to hear from Captain Succorso?” Sib put in. Maybe he hadn’t
noticed his own futility yet. Or maybe he’d grown accustomed to the idea.

Vestele
shrugged. “I’m just a guard. I don’t make policy.” After a pause, however, he
added, “Mostly I think Dr. Beckmann wants to hear how Captain Succorso is going
to pay him.”

Which
might mean that Mikka and Sib were stuck here until Vector completed his
analysis of UMCPDA’s antimutagen.

That
could take hours. It could take days.

She
wondered whether Morn and Davies would still be alive — and sane — when she and
the rest of Nick’s people finally returned to
Trumpet
. Or whether Sorus
Chatelaine would ever let them get that far.

 _

 _

In fact, two more hours
passed before Vestele listened to his PCR again. He nodded to superiors who
couldn’t see or hear him. Then he announced, “Dr. Shaheed is done. He and
Captain Succorso are leaving thirty-one. Captain Succorso wants you two to meet
him where Pup is — in the entry room. And he wants to talk to Dr. Beckmann.”

Sib
scrubbed his hands up and down his face. “I’m not ready,” he murmured. “Two
hours ago I was. Now I’m not.”

Mikka
ignored him. Her heart thudded in her chest — as hard as a mine-hammer, but too
erratic for anything mechanical. “Let’s go,” she told Vestele.

The
guard examined her narrowly; looked at Sib. After a moment he slid his handgun
into its holster.

“This
way.” He gestured toward the outer passage.

Driven
by panic, Mikka left the room as fast as she could without losing her purchase
on the floor.

Sib and
then Vestele followed her quickly. At the first intersection she let the guard
take the lead. In an effort to control her pulse — if not her dread — she
concentrated on matching her pace to his as he guided her and Sib through the
complex.

He was
listening to his PCR again, receiving new orders. When they reached what appeared
to be another of the Lab’s main corridors, he stopped; gestured for Mikka and
Sib to halt. “We’ll wait here.”

She
couldn’t help herself. “What for?”

“Mikka,”
Sib breathed, warning her.

Vestele
didn’t bother to retort. Instead he pointed down the corridor.

Nick
and Vector had just come into sight. The man Dr. Beckmann had addressed as “Sven”
was with them, in addition to two more guards. But Mikka ignored the Lab’s
personnel. While the men approached, she scrutinised Nick and Vector as if the
answers she needed might be legible on their faces.

They
both looked vindicated, triumphant.

There
the similarity between them ended, however. Vector’s smile and his mild, blue
eyes had an ineffable glow, like those of a man who had been washed clean in
the waters of a sacrament. He walked buoyantly, as if his joints no longer
caused him any pain, and his lips moved as if he were singing to himself.

Nick,
on the other hand —

His
triumph was bloodthirsty and malign; full of threats. His scars were as stark
as shouts under his eyes — so crowded with passion that they seemed to swell
and throb — and his grin resembled a sadist’s perfect love for his victims.

The
answers were plain enough: Mikka couldn’t mistake them. He’d staked Ciro out
like a Judas goat. And Sorus Chatelaine had taken the bait.

He
looks scared out of his mind —

For a
moment red fury nearly blinded Mikka’s good eye.

Nick,
too, walked quickly, in a hurry to follow up his advantage. As he passed her,
he snatched at her arm, pulled her into motion beside him. His fingers dug like
fire into her muscles; his whole body seemed to radiate heat like a furnace.

Bending
to her ear, he whispered, “You like to live fucking dangerously, don’t you. I
told you to guard the door until we were done.”

Slowly
her vision cleared. She couldn’t fight him; argue with him. Not here, like
this. Maybe never. In a dead voice she gave him the same story she’d told
Klimpt and Retledge. She didn’t expect him to believe her: she was only trying
to buy time until she saw Ciro.

Stupidly
helpful, as if he thought Nick might listen to him, Sib put in when she was
done, “That’s true.”

Nick
didn’t listen to Sib: his contempt for his former data first was palpable. “I
don’t care,” he answered Mikka softly. “You were too late to interfere. That’s
what counts.” His joy glittered like a scalpel. “And you’re going to pay for it
as long as you live. Which may not be much longer at this rate.