The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (72 page)

“The
other,” he pronounced distinctly so that Forrest Ing couldn’t fail to hear him,
“is a portion of source-code from the code engine employed by GCES Security.”

At last
he was rewarded by a small flaring of alarm in Koina’s eyes; a glimpse of
hidden dread. She was in more danger than she’d realised.

As if
he were pleased, Hashi remarked, “The implications are dazzling, are they not?
QED, the source of our kaze’s id tag finds both Anodyne Systems and GCES
Security accessible. The logic is immaculate. The difficulty — as I’ve already
suggested — is that GCES Security has no dealings with Anodyne Systems.”

When he
was satisfied that he’d made himself clear, he concluded, “I wish to attend
this extraordinary session of the Council because I believe that my
investigation leads there.”

Attend
me well, Deputy Chief, he added in silence. I, also, may require your
protection.

Koina
regarded him with darkness stirring in the depths of her gaze. The restrained
tension of her cheeks and forehead hinted at the bleak bones beneath the skin.
Not for the first time, Hashi wondered what her mission to the Council was;
what mandate Warden had given her. He wanted an answer, but he no longer
believed that she would offer him one.

At last
she spoke. Her voice was a soft whisper.

“Did
you tell Warden?”

Hashi
bridled despite his self-command. “Do not insult me, Koina.” His chagrin left
him strangely vulnerable. “As Godsen would have said, I know my job.”

Eventually
she nodded. By degrees her gaze slipped down to the sheaf of hardcopy in her
hands as if she were asking herself what purpose all those sheets of
information served.

He was
in no hurry. The ride down the gravity well to Earth and Suka Bator gave him
all the time he needed; more than enough. He could afford to be patient. So he
waited without speaking — an exercise in self-effacement of which some of his
subordinates wouldn’t have believed him capable — until at last she raised her
head and looked at him again.

“I
assume you don’t really want me to give you a formal briefing.” Her tone was
low, but steady. “I’m sure you already know everything I’ve told them.” She
nodded toward her aides. “Why don’t you just ask a specific question? That way
I can make a specific decision about answering.”

Hashi
renewed his avuncular smile. He needed it now; his own anxieties were too near
the surface. Could he ask, What are your instructions from Warden? What
position will he take toward Captain Vertigus’ Bill of Severance? No: that
would be too crude. And not particularly suitable for Forrest Ing’s ears.

Instead
he said, “If recollection serves, you recently had a matter of some importance
to discuss with our esteemed director.”

Her nod
acknowledged that she remembered the conversation; but she didn’t rise to the
bait. Her self-possession would have exhilarated Hashi if he hadn’t been
feeling uniquely exposed at the moment.

He
cleared his throat. “May I ask how he responded?”

The PR
director appeared to weigh a variety of considerations before she answered.
When she spoke, her tone was careful, stressing nothing.

“He
told me I’m not in any danger. I think his exact words were, ‘That’s not what
this is about’.”

Indeed.
Indeed and forsooth. Hashi stifled an impulse to attempt several different
rejoinders simultaneously. At such times he envied his computers — and his own
mind — their capacity for multitasking. Conversation was sadly linear. To fill
the time while he chose which line to take, he flapped a gesture in Forrest Ing’s
direction and commented, “I see that you do not entirely credit his
reassurance. Or Enforcement Division Security does not.” But he didn’t mean the
observation as criticism. “I approve, naturally. It is always wise to take
precautions.”

He took
them himself. He’d gained one of his ends by “publicly” informing the PR
director of the results of DA’s investigation. Willingly or not, Forrest Ing
would report that Hashi had done what he could to provide for Koina’s safety.

In the
meantime, other issues were more important.

As
casually as a man who didn’t care, Hashi murmured, “Forgive my curiosity. What
was the director’s reaction to your tidings themselves?”

Koina
studied him without blinking. An impression of hardness gathered in the background
of her gaze. Only the corners of her mouth smiled as she replied, “I’m sorry.
To use one of Director Frik’s words, that’s ‘privileged’.”

The
days when she could talk to him freely about things which were none of his
business were gone. Since her elevation to Godsen’s post, she’d been overtaken
by new loyalties. Like so many men and women before her, she was no longer able
to distinguish between her attachment to Warden Dios and her service to the
UMCP.

Hashi
Lebwohl would get no help from her.

To his
cost, he understood. He suffered from a like confusion, despite his best
efforts to remain unclouded by the emotional murk — the value judgements and
moral posturings, the irrational commitments and blind faiths — which soiled
all human truths. With a sigh, he eased his thin limbs farther down into his
g-seat.

“In
that case, I believe I will avail myself of this opportunity for a
brief
nap.”
He chuckled aimlessly. “While we still may count ourselves wrapped in the peace
of space.”

After
he closed his eyes, he heard Koina shuffling through her sheaf of hardcopy;
resuming her studies for what lay ahead. Behind him Forrest Ing murmured to the
communications tech, who in turn relayed transmissions elsewhere, no doubt
using the shuttle’s dishes to reach both UMCPHQ and ED Chief of Security
Mandich on Suka Bator. But Hashi ignored them all.

That’s
not what this is about.

Though
the question pained him, he wondered whether he was capable of playing a game
as deep as Warden’s.

 _

 _

G and the shielded hull
roar of re-entry brought him back to attention. Polymerised ceramics protected
the craft from heat, but no defence could entirely seal out the howl of
violated atmosphere, or the fire of the drive. In this stage of the shuttle’s
trajectory, braking thrust exerted more pressure than gravity. However, the
cabin g-seats had pivoted automatically to meet the force backward. Hashi’s
lean frame seemed to bury itself in the padding as his weight pulled against
him. G now was greater than it had been at launch — greater than any physical
stress Hashi had felt for a number of years — but because it accumulated
incrementally it was less traumatic.

He
turned a glance at Koina, saw her features stretched in the characteristic
rictus of added g, and at once looked away to allow her at least the illusion
of privacy. Under these conditions even the faces of the finest human specimens
bore a naked — and nakedly undignified — resemblance to skulls.

Re-entry
was mercifully quick. For a few minutes he felt himself dragged backward down the
gravity well; then the shuttle planed to a more level course, and braking
thrust eased. The skin of his face seemed to slump on its bones as if it had
lost elasticity, but he began to breathe more easily, and the constriction of
too much weight receded from his heart.

In
twenty minutes the craft would heat its skids almost to slag on the glazed
tarmac of Suka Bator’s spaceport, and shortly after that the DA director would
set foot on his planetary home for the first time in more years than he cared
to count.

Now was
as good a time as any for him to take his next step, his next precaution.

“Deputy
Chief.” In effect, Hashi now sat behind Forrest Ing. Nevertheless a lifetime of
intercoms and transmitters had accustomed him to addressing people he couldn’t
see. “I require a word with you before touchdown.”

Koina
looked at him curiously, but didn’t interrupt.

The
deputy chief craned his neck awkwardly to meet Hashi’s gaze around his g-seat.
He had a blunt, square face which didn’t wear perplexity well. In addition, the
strain of his posture showed in his expression. After a short stare, he
retreated out of sight. “Yes, Director?”

“Deputy
Chief,” Hashi began amiably enough, “Director Hannish’s attendance at this
extraordinary session of the Governing Council for Earth and Space is expected.
Mine is not. Indeed, I hope that my presence will occasion considerable
surprise. This may prove fruitful.

“In
order to meet events effectively, I must be assured that you will comply with
any requests or instructions I may mention.”

He
thought he could hear Ing squirming. “Forgive me, Director,” the deputy chief
said. “My orders from Chief Mandich don’t give me much leeway. I’m personally
responsible for Director Hannish’s safety. Frankly, I’m not even supposed to
let her go to the san without calling in an inspection team first. And I’m
instructed to take her orders, no one else’s. If there’s something you want me
to do, I’ll have to clear it first.”

In
plain words, Hashi muttered to himself, you decline to trust me. Min Donner’s
righteous scorn blinkered every mind in Enforcement Division.

“Then
clear it now,” he retorted more sharply. “My point is precisely the one you
raise. If I ask you to ‘do something’, I will need it done without the delay of
applying to your chief for permission.”

The man’s
discomfort became more palpable. “What kind of trouble are you expecting,
Director?”

Hashi
let a waspish wheeze into his voice. “I expect nothing. But I mean to be
prepared.”

In its
own way, that also was factually accurate. His sense of possibilities was at
once precise and indistinct, defined by Heisenberg’s profound uncertainty. He
felt intuitively that he knew where events were going.
That’s not what this
is about.
Therefore he couldn’t know what those events were — or would be.

However,
Forrest wasn’t satisfied. “Director,” he  began hesitantly, “with respect — “
Then he forged ahead. “Chief Mandich is going to want something more concrete
to go on.”

Hashi
had expected this. He also disliked it. His disdain for the ED director and all
her blind oversimplifications seemed to rise into his throat. His tone turned
to a rasp.

“Then
kindly inform Chief Mandich that I require him to assign personnel to me who
have been given his authorisation” — he nearly snarled the words — “to do what
I tell them.”

Trapped
by indecision, the deputy chief turned to Koina. “Director Hannish?”

Koina —
bless her self-possessed heart — didn’t hesitate. “Do it, Forrest,” she said
calmly. “I don’t know what Director Lebwohl is worried about, but whatever it
is, I’m sure it’s important. If nothing comes of it, we haven’t lost anything.”

The
deputy chief hesitated a moment longer. Then Hashi heard him murmur
instructions to his communications tech.

With an
effort, Hashi stilled his anger. Instead of muttering imprecations on Min
Donner and all her ilk, he turned to Koina and smiled. Softly, so that he
wouldn’t be overheard, he breathed, “Thank you, Director Hannish.”

His
gratitude was real, although nothing he felt or meant was simple.

She
regarded him with a sombre frown. “Hashi,” she replied, also softly, “why do I
get the impression that everything I’ve been preparing myself for” — she flexed
her sheaf of hardcopy — “has suddenly become irrelevant?”

His
smile deepened. “My dear young woman, that impression overtakes us all, early
or late. The knowledge of existence precludes the awareness of motion, just as
awareness of motion precludes knowledge of existence. And yet neither is of any
significance without the other.”

The
frown tightened its grip on her brow. For a moment he thought that her reserve
might crack; that she might snap at him. However, she didn’t allow herself to
speak until she could ask coolly, “Meaning?”

Hashi
shrugged against his belts. His own control seemed to slip while hers held. “I
expect nothing.” The wheeze in his voice was growing worse. “But I mean to be
prepared.

“As I
have already said,” he added hoarsely.

She
continued studying him until he looked away. Then she remarked distantly, “I
suppose that’s fair. I didn’t answer your question either.” Holding her stack
of hardcopy sheets in both hands, she began tidying them for touchdown.

He felt
an impulse to retort, Indeed you did not. I am gratified that you remember. His
irritation was misplaced, however. It belonged on his own head. The fact —
perhaps the truth — was that he had no answer to give her. Uncertainty stood in
his way.

Warden
Dios had outplayed him once. At least once, he amended. If he didn’t raise the
level of his game — and soon — other people would begin to do the same.

SORUS

S
oar
was already moving back into the
asteroid swarm, returning toward the heart of Deaner Beckmann’s domain, when
her communications first opened a channel to Lab Centre and persuaded Centre
that Captain Chatelaine needed to talk to Chief Retledge.