The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (87 page)

Wearily
he retorted, “That’s all beside the point, Mr. Fane.”

Despite
his fatigue, however, his words were distinct. “It changes nothing. You would
say exactly the same things with exactly the same conviction if your Holt
Fasner had sold his soul to the Amnion.”

A gasp
of shock hissed around the hall. Abrim Len turned toward Sixten with a jerk,
gaped aghast at the UWB Senior Member. No one had ever said anything like that
aloud in front of the GCES.

Hashi
admired Sixten’s reply, but he didn’t pause. When he reached the last tier and
the wall, he turned to Ensign Crender again, pulled the boy toward him.

“Stay
close,” he demanded softly, so that the nearby guards wouldn’t hear him. “Be
ready.”

Shuffling
in his untied shoes as if he felt no need for haste, Hashi began to walk around
the back of the hall, hoping to intercept the object of his interest in time to
learn whether he was making a fool of himself.

Ensign
Crender followed doggedly.

Below
and across from them, Cleatus Fane dug his beard into the air. “I will ignore
your insult for the moment,” he snapped. “What
is
the point, Captain
Vertigus?”

Sixten
sighed. He may have been exhausted, but once again he mustered enough force for
a retort.

“You
keep talking about the practical application of power. ‘Diligence and
dedication can’t compete’. Of course they can’t. But that’s not the subject of
this bill. It has to do with
ethics
, Mr. Fane — ethics and
responsibility.

“
We
are
humankind’s elected representatives. Holt Fasner is not. The responsibility for
guiding and controlling the actions of humankind’s Police belongs to
us
,
not to him.”

Bravo,
Captain, Hashi thought. Still he kept moving. As he walked, he concentrated on
projecting the impression that he was engaged in some trivial activity —
perhaps that he’d lost his way to the san. Above all he didn’t want the guards
to begin watching him rather than the Members and their aides.

Cleatus
Fane snorted through his stiff whiskers. If Sixten’s answers — or determination
— took him aback, he didn’t show it. And he certainly didn’t lack for answers
himself.

“I
think you’ll find,” he drawled sardonically, “that the Police themselves aren’t
so sanguine. And they may also have something to say about your absurd claim
that Holt Fasner can’t be trusted to keep them honest. In fact, I don’t
hesitate to predict that Warden Dios himself will denounce this bill, for the
same reasons I’ve already given you. I’ve heard him discuss ‘ethics and
responsibility many times, and I’m sure of what he’ll say.”

Abruptly
he turned toward Koina.

“Director
Hannish?” Like his beard, his bulk aimed itself at her like a demand. “I know
you haven’t had an opportunity to consult Director Dios on this, but perhaps
you can comment on the UMCP’s position.”

Hashi
had reached a point on the curve of the hall which allowed him to see Koina’s
face. Her mask was immaculate, untroubled: she wore her beauty like a shield.
But to his eyes the pressure of her hands as she gripped the edge of the table
betrayed her tension. Cleatus Fane had just demanded that she proclaim the UMCP’s
allegiance to the UMC — her own as well as Warden Dios’. In the circles where
Holt Fasner wielded his might, no subordinate could refuse such a demand.

A
tension of his own clutched at Hashi’s heart. He’d urged Koina to let Warden
know about Captain Vertigus’ bill; but she’d declined to tell him how Warden
had reacted to the information. Just for a moment he halted to hear her
response.

She
didn’t stand. She didn’t need to: every eye in the chamber was on her; she had
the Council’s complete attention.

“On the
contrary, Mr. Fane,” she replied, “we’ve discussed this bill many times.” A low
throb of emotion in her voice showed that she grasped what was at stake. “Not
this specific bill, of course. How could we? I mean that my fellow directors
and I have often considered the idea of a Bill of Severance. We have debated
its merits and formed our opinions. I don’t need to consult my director now in
order to inform you of our position.”

“Please,
Director Hannish,” President Len put in, making at least that one small attempt
to regain control of the proceedings. “Go ahead.”

The
First Executive Assistant nodded as if to say, I’m waiting. An intake of breath
caused his body to swell ominously. Sixten didn’t raise his eyes to Koina. His
posture suggested that he was resigned to abandonment.

“Thank
you, President Len.” Her apparent calm seemed to emphasise the background
intensity of her tone. “Mr. Fane, Captain Vertigus, Members of this Council” —
she regarded the chamber with a firm gaze — “our position is one of absolute
neutrality.”

Startled,
Fane opened his mouth to protest; but Koina didn’t let him interrupt her.

“In the
most necessary sense,” she explained, “we disavow responsibility for it. That
responsibility is yours and yours alone. Our function,
our
responsibility,
is to serve humankind according to the terms and conditions of our charter. If
we seek to determine the nature of those terms and conditions, we will
inevitably become a force of tyranny, no matter how benign our motives may be.
That
responsibility must rest with you. When our organisation began, you
chartered it as a branch of the UMC because you saw fit to do so. If you now
see fit to alter our charter, we will abide by it without question.

“As
individuals we all have personal opinions and beliefs. But as the United Mining
Companies Police Director of Protocol, I am forced to contradict Mr. Fane. I
say — and Director Dios will say with me — that this decision rests on you.
What you decide, we will accept. If we do otherwise, we have betrayed your
trust, and humankind would be better off without us.”

Bowing
her head, Koina concluded, “Thank you for allowing me to speak.”

The
Council had suffered too many surprises in one session. The Members and their
people peered at her as if they were stunned. Cleatus Fane’s resemblance to
Santa Claus had become an illusion: the glare in his eyes was murderous and
dark. Wonder shone on Sigurd Carsin’s face. Len strove to close his mouth, but
his lower jaw had become too heavy for him. Maxim Igensard seemed to bounce in
his seat as if he were frantic to address the gathering. Slowly Captain
Vertigus raised his head to look at Koina: he may have had tears in his eyes.

Hashi
was more than pleased: he was profoundly relieved. To this extent, at least, he
hadn’t been wrong in his assessment of his director.
What you decide, we
will accept.
Warden’s strange game — whatever it might be — was being
played against Holt Fasner.

As a
result the complex question of Hashi’s own loyalties was simplified.

To
confirm that Ensign Crender was still with him, he glanced aside at his
companion.

The
guard looked impossibly pale, drained of blood, as if he were about to faint.
In a blink of intuition, Hashi realised that the youth understood the struggle
taking place in the hall. He was merely young, not stupid.

The DA
director had no time for delay, however. A movement caught the edge of his
vision: Nathan Alt was coming closer. Now the man Hashi hunted had reached a
position against the wall above and behind Captain Vertigus.

“My
point remains the same,” Fane growled harshly; but he may have been blustering.
“If this Council does anything to disrupt the Police — if they’re weakened in
any way at a time like this — I think we’re all going to regret it.”

Praying
God or Heisenberg that the ensign was intelligent enough to react quickly, but
not so intelligent that he paralysed himself, Hashi started forward again,
quickening his pace to narrow the gap before Alt noticed him.

President
Len had begun to speak, hesitantly calling the GCES back to order, but Hashi
paid no heed. Alt was too near Captain Vertigus. Worse, he was closing the
distance between himself and Cleatus Fane. Concentrating exclusively on the
former UMCPED captain, Hashi hastened around the wall.

Three
meters from Nathan Alt, he stopped. At last he was close enough to read the id
patch on the man’s uniform, the clearance badge clipped to his breast pocket.

Both
identified Alt categorically as “GCES Security Sergeant Clay Imposs.”

Hashi
was taken aback. Caught in the uncertain swirl of subatomic possibilities, he
studied the man.

Alt
didn’t so much as glance at the DA director. His disfocused stare was fixed,
opaque; aimed at nothing. Unequal dilation distorted his pupils. Pallid and
waxy, the skin of his face hung slack on his cheekbones.

Hashi
knew the signs. He’d worked with such things often enough to be sure of them.

Nathan
Alt was in a state of drug-induced hypnosis.

Woodenly
he continued his incremental progress in Cleatus Fane’s direction.

Too
late, it was already too late, Hashi had delayed too long, letting uncertainty
carry him when he should have been sure. Only Alt’s chemical stupor saved him.

Wheeling
on Crender, he barked, “Arrest that man! Get him out of here!”

The boy
froze. Youth and inexperience betrayed him. Instead of springing forward, he
blinked open-mouthed at Hashi’s demand as if he found it incomprehensible.

“He is
a
kaze!
” Hashi shouted; almost screamed. “
Get him
out
of here!
”

Then he
leaped at Alt himself.

Ignoring
the instant pandemonium around him, the cries of the aides and secretaries, the
surging of the guards, he clawed the clearance badge from Alt’s uniform, ripped
open the front of Alt’s uniform in order to snatch at the id tag around his
neck.

An
instant later Crender burst past him, slammed Nathan Alt away. Yelling in
fright, the ensign half drove, half threw Alt back toward the doors.

Almost
immediately Forrest Ing roared orders. Two more guards rushed to help the boy.
Together they manhandled Alt along the wall as fast as they could. On the far
side of the hall, Ing shouted at his communications tech, warning Chief Mandich
and the guards outside.

Drugged
and oblivious, Alt put up no resistance. Perhaps he wasn’t aware that anything
was happening to him.

Nevertheless
he might explode at any moment. The fact that he was hypnotised, volitionless,
only meant that the bomb inside him was controlled by other means: an internal
timer; an external radio signal.

Taking
the only precaution he could think of, Hashi flung himself headlong down the
tiers into the terrified frenzy of bodies and seats.

In his
fists he clutched Imposs/Alt’s clearance badge and id tag as if they were
precious enough to ransom his entire species.

More
guards rushed into the confusion. At last their training took hold: half a
dozen of them forced an aisle through the wailing tumult; others threw open the
doors; still others helped move Imposs along. Abrim Len shrieked at the Members
to clear the hall. If they’d been able to obey, the crush would have made it
impossible to remove Imposs. But reinforcements arrived in time to block the
Members and their staffs out of the way.

At a
run, Ensign Crender and the other guards impelled Imposs or Alt from the hall.
Immediately Chief Mandich ordered the doors closed again. Men and women who
didn’t know what they were doing kicked Hashi from side to side. In
self-defence, he picked himself off the floor just as the high portal slammed
shut.

Across
the moil and din Ing shouted fiercely, “Sit down! Sit
down!
Get below
the blast!”

His
yell produced an instant of frozen silence. But before anyone could move, obey,
a detonation as heavy as thunder shook the chamber.

The
blast was too close to the doors: they cracked from top to bottom. The floor
bucked in the concussion. People staggered; some lost their feet. Powdered
plaster, paint, and cement filled the air as the shock wave hit the walls and
ceiling.

Then it
was over.

The
Members stared at each other with dismay on their faces and dust in their hair.
For a moment they seemed stunned to find that they were still alive.

Unaware
that a smile stretched his thin face like a rictus, Hashi stooped to the floor
and started looking for his glasses.

 _

 _

Apart from Nathan Alt/Clay
Imposs, only one man died. A GCES Security guard too close to the explosion was
blown to pulp. And only one was seriously injured: Ensign Crender lost his left
hand and forearm. For the most part, however, Chief Mandich had taken effective
measures to muffle the blast and protect lives. A number of Security personnel
— both GCES and UMCPED — suffered damaged eardrums and other symptoms of
concussion, but they were spared any lasting harm.

When
the ensuing pandemonium had eased, and order had been restored, President Len
offered to adjourn the session so that the Members would have time to recover.
To his surprise, virtually all of them declined. Under the circumstances, the
consensus of the Council was that the UWB Senior Member’s Bill of Severance
should be brought to an immediate vote.