The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (85 page)

Halfway
down the table opposite Martingale rested Captain Sixten Vertigus, the old hero
of humankind’s first contact with the Amnion, and the reason for this
extraordinary session. His frail head leaned against the back of his chair, and
his eyes were closed: he was apparently asleep.

Maxim
Igensard sat behind his sponsor, Martingale. More than ever the Special Counsel
resembled a predator disguised as prey. Under other circumstances, his gray
attire and undistinguished features might have caused him to blend into the
crowd of aides and secretaries. Now, however, he radiated tension like a
nuclear pile. Hashi suspected, or perhaps merely hoped, that when Igensard
learned the nature of Captain Vertigus’ legislation, he would — in the argot of
UMCPHQ — “go critical”.

Many
other faces were known; but in the silence which his arrival had occasioned,
Hashi found his gaze riding a frisson of excitement and apprehension along the
table to its end. There he received a nervous shock of his own.

At the
same moment Koina murmured, “Hashi,” as if she were warning him.

In the
last chair — a position notable for its lack of a data terminal or hardcopies —
sat Cleatus Fane.

Holt
Fasner’s First Executive Assistant: a man who was said to speak with the voice
and hear with the ears of the great worm himself.

He was
a rotund figure in any case, but by sheer force of personality he took up so
much space that he appeared even fatter. His eyes were the unreadable green of
deep seas, and his plump lips smiled mercilessly. Beneath them an expanse of
white beard concealed his neck and sternum. His whiskers were wiry rather than
soft, however: his beard moved like a blade whenever he spoke or turned his
head. Nevertheless he bore more than a passing resemblance — as any number of
people had remarked — to Santa Claus.

He met
Hashi’s surprised look and smiled benignly, as if he’d come to speak the Dragon’s
blessing on this chamber and all who did the work of governing humankind.

Father
Christmas, dispenser of the UMC CEO’s gifts.

But
Hashi wasn’t misled. Not coincidentally, Cleatus Fane also exacted his lord’s
punishments.

What
was he doing here? Hashi had no difficulty imagining an answer. Abrim Len, bless
his timid, conciliatory heart, may have informed Holt Fasner’s Home Office that
this extraordinary session had been called to consider legislation proposed by
Captain Sixten Vertigus. Knowing the good captain’s reputation, the Dragon
would certainly have guessed that Sixten Vertigus’ bill wasn’t intended for his
benefit. Hence he’d dispatched his most practised and reliable subordinate to
witness — and perhaps respond to — whatever the UWB Senior Member did.

The
restrained clamour in the hall resumed as abruptly as it’d stopped: all at once
everyone present found something compelling to say to his or her neighbours.
Some of them were surely wondering what Hashi Lebwohl’s appearance and Cleatus
Fane’s had to do with each other.

To
cover his momentary lapse of composure, Hashi bowed in Cleatus’ direction. His
mouth shaped the words, “My dear First Executive Assistant, how piquant to see
you.” Then he leaned toward Koina and whispered, “It appears that the stakes of
the game have been raised.” Hidden by the hubbub of the Members and their
retinues, he asked, “Do you believe that Captain Vertigus will proceed under
these circumstances?”

Koina
looked at him, let him see that the corners of her mouth were smiling again —
only the corners. Then she moved to descend the tiers toward her honorary place
at the end of the half-oval table across from the great worm’s representative.

Hashi
followed behind her aides and Forrest Ing, noting as he passed that Abrim Len
had begun to put on dignity like a man who meant to assume his duties. However,
he had no real interest in the President’s posture, dignified or otherwise.
Other questions held him; questions which gathered a new urgency from Fane’s
presence. What answer had Chief of Security Mandich given Forrest Ing? And when
would Deputy Chief Ing deign to mention it to the DA director? Hashi couldn’t
risk expressing either his offended vanity or his legitimate concerns to the
deputy chief in front of this assemblage, but his instinct for caution had
suddenly become stringent.

He
could no longer say accurately that he expected nothing. Therefore his need to
be prepared had grown stronger.

As
Koina reached her chair, sat down, and commenced the ritual of logging onto the
data terminal so that she could open a transmission channel to UMCPHQ in case
she needed it, Hashi put his hand on the deputy chief’s arm to detain him.

“I am
still waiting for a reply,” he announced just loudly enough to be heard; just
sharply enough to threaten Ing. “Sadly I do not wait well.”

The man
cocked an uncertain eyebrow as if he couldn’t remember what Hashi was talking
about. Then he said quickly, “Forgive me, Director. I’ve been distracted.”

Turning
away, he snapped his fingers; and at once a young UMCPED Security ensign came
forward from the rear of Koina’s diminished entourage. Hashi hadn’t noticed him
earlier: he must have joined the PR director’s retinue outside the hall.
Although he must surely have been at least twenty years of age, his fine blond
hair and pale skin made him appear almost prepubescent.

“Ensign
Crender,” Ing said by way of introduction, “you have your orders. You’re here
to do what Director Lebwohl tells you.
Whatever
he tells you.” The
deputy chief smiled coldly. “Within reason, of course.”

“Yes,
sir.” The ensign’s voice nearly cracked. He looked frightened, as if he feared
that Hashi might instruct him to draw his impact pistol and open fire on the
Council.

Within
reason? Within
reason?

Hashi
restrained a rush of anger. Mandich, he swore in silence. Donner. Ing. Be
warned. If this whelp fails me, the price will be laid on your heads.
I
will
lay it there.

Brusquely
he took the nearest seat at Koina’s back. Then he closed his eyes and spent a
moment experiencing the surge and pull of blood in his temples as if his pulse
embodied the electron flux; calming himself with metaphors of uncertainty.

He
looked up again as the Members and their people grew quiet. The session was
about to start.

A last
guard entered the hall, and the doors were closed. Seeing this, President Len
turned to the table and took up the ceremonial mace — privately Hashi
considered it a “cudgel” — which symbolised his office. Now all the Members,
advisers, and secretaries sat down, leaving only the President and the guards
on their feet. Summoning up his dignity, Len brought his mace down on the
tabletop with a thump which somehow conveyed hesitation despite its weight.

“Your
attention, Members of the Governing Council for Earth and Space,” he announced
sententiously. Again he thumped the surface in front of him. “Today we meet in
extraordinary session, and we are ready to begin.”

After a
third thump, he set his mace down.

In a
less formal tone, he went on, “As you know, this session has been convened to
consider a matter which the Senior Member for the United Western Bloc, Captain
Sixten Vertigus, wishes to bring before us.” He nodded toward Captain Vertigus,
who continued to doze. “This Council has a number of pressing issues to
consider” — he may have been asking the old Member to pay attention — “including,
but by no means limited to, the recent, appalling terrorist attack on Captain
Vertigus himself, the even more recent murder of the UMCP’s then-director of
Protocol, Godsen Frik, and the public confirmation of his successor, Koina
Hannish.” The President bowed politely in Koina’s direction. “However, Captain
Vertigus has claimed Member’s privilege. By virtue of his long service to the
Council, as well as to humankind, our charter grants him precedence. Other
matters will be raised as time and circumstance permit.

“Are
there any objections,” he concluded, “before I ask Captain Vertigus to speak?”

This
call for objections was a mere formality, one of the codified courtesies which
gave government its illusion of collegiality. Hashi was surprised when Sen
Abdullah immediately took his feet.

“President
Len” — the EU Senior Member’s voice was unfortunate: it whined like a
maladjusted servomechanism — “fellow Members, I must object. Without disrespect
to Captain Vertigus, the present situation is too extreme for any of us to
claim privilege. A kaze has attacked him, a kaze has killed Godsen Frik. And
this occurred only a short time after we conducted a video conference which
might mildly be called ‘provocative’ with UMCP Director Warden Dios and Data
Acquisition Director Hashi Lebwohl.”

He didn’t
glance at Hashi.

Cleatus
Fane studied the speaker with a hooded gaze, revealing nothing.

Abdullah
cleared his throat as if Fane’s scrutiny made him uncomfortable. “President
Len, fellow Members, the Special Counsel appointed by this Council to
investigate allegations of malfeasance against Director Dios and the UMCP has
uncovered several issues which are cause for grave concern. The UMCP have
risked covert operations within forbidden space, employing persons of doubtful
character. The Data Acquisition director has admitted delivering one of
Enforcement Division’s ensigns into what might be called prostitution — if it
is not called enslavement. A notorious illegal, Captain Angus Thermopyle, has
escaped from Data Acquisition in the company of a traitor.

“And
now” — Abdullah gestured toward Hashi with a chop of his hand — “here sits the
same director of Data Acquisition who so horrified us when he spoke for
Director Dios. We will be derelict in our duty if we miss this opportunity to
question him.

“Captain
Vertigus,” the EU Senior Member whined, “I must ask you to yield your
privilege. I will use it to provide a forum for Special Counsel Maxim Igensard’s
investigation.”

Igensard
leaned forward in his seat, eager to stand.

Like
everyone around him, Hashi turned toward Captain Vertigus. Sen Abdullah’s
demand would have been difficult to refuse at the best of times. With Cleatus
Fane watching him, the old man might find refusal impossible.

Captain
Vertigus still sat with his head back and his eyes closed. His open mouth
emitted a small rasp like a snore.

“Captain
Vertigus.” President Len disliked rudeness — not to mention assertiveness — and
his discomfort made him unnecessarily peremptory. “You must answer. Will you
yield your privilege to Senior Member Abdullah?”

The old
man twitched. His head came down: he opened his eyes, then gazed blearily
around him as if he’d forgotten where he was. “What?” he asked. At once,
however, he went on, “Oh, very well.” His voice held a pronounced quaver.

From where
he sat, Hashi saw Koina’s shoulders tighten. Several of the Members seemed to
have stopped breathing.

“I’ll
be glad, delighted, to yield to my esteemed colleague,” Captain Vertigus said
thinly.

Igensard
started to rise. Fane hid his reaction behind his beard.

“As
soon as I’m done,” the UWB Senior Member finished.

Shock
jolted the chamber like a static discharge. Hashi allowed himself to smile as
Igensard’s face twisted and Abdullah bit back a retort. “Nicely played,
Captain,” he murmured, only half aloud. Sixten Vertigus had looked the dotard
for so long that most people had forgotten his old courage.

Koina
didn’t react; hardly moved. She couldn’t afford to betray the fact that she
knew what Sixten intended.

Hurrying
to avoid conflict, President Len put in, “You won’t reconsider, Captain? I’m
sure we’ll have time for you when Special Counsel Igensard is done.”

Captain
Vertigus sighed. “No” — strain showed in his voice as he stood up — “I won’t
reconsider. This is too important.” Supporting himself on the tabletop with his
arms, he added, “And it’s not irrelevant to all those ‘provocative’ subjects my
esteemed colleague mentioned.

“Don’t
worry, Abrim,” he muttered with a touch of asperity. “This probably won’t take
as long as it should.”

“Very
well, Captain Vertigus,” Len sighed. His hand on Sen Abdullah’s shoulder urged
the EU Senior Member to sit down. “The session is yours.”

Bowing,
the President seated himself.

“This
better be good,” Sigurd Carsin murmured to no one in particular. She was Sixten’s
Junior Member, but she’d never concealed her impatience at giving precedence to
a man she considered “senile”.

“‘Good’?”
Captain Vertigus cocked his head at her. “I don’t think so. These days I’m not
sure ‘good’ exists anymore. But if you’ll pay attention, I’ll offer you
something better than what we have now.”

Carsin
glared at him, but didn’t speak again.

Slowly
the captain raised his head between his hunched shoulders so that he could
address the whole chamber.

“You’re
right, of course,” he began. “I was attacked. Poor, pompous Godsen Frik was
killed. Warden Dios and Hashi Lebwohl nauseated us — some of us, anyway — with
what they said during that conference. Captain Thermopyle has escaped, and what
we know about DA’s covert operation in forbidden space stinks. Events are
moving too fast for us to control. The Special Counsel probably has good reason
to think he’s on the trail of the worst kind of malfeasance.”