Chaos And Order_ The Gap Into Madness Part 30

"Yes, that that Vector Shaheed," Nick said with elaborate patience, as if he were speaking to idiots. "From Intertech." Vector Shaheed," Nick said with elaborate patience, as if he were speaking to idiots. "From Intertech."

Angus tried again. This time he left out the words, entered only the code-strings.

The response was the same: Hopelessness boiled up from the bottom of his mind. He seemed to remember hearing his mother say, You can't get away You can't get away, even though he'd been far too young to understand any language except pain and comfort, No, no, you can't get away. I can't get away from them, and you can't get away from me. That's why you're my son. Why you'll always be my son. No, no, you can't get away. I can't get away from them, and you can't get away from me. That's why you're my son. Why you'll always be my son.

Nick silenced his pickup, turned a conspiratorial grin on Angus. "I think I'm talking to Deaner Beckmann himself," he whispered as if he didn't want to be overheard. "Someone there has actually heard of Vector. These obsessive researchers all like to talk too much. They keep secrets from everybody else, but they'll tell each other anything. Beckmann probably knows what Vector was working on before he left Intertech."

Why do I care? Angus wondered. Why should I care?

Him she loved- What was left? How many other machines did Trumpet Trumpet have aboard? have aboard?

He only knew of one.

It's got to stop.

Isaac, he said in silence. Are you listening to me, Isaac? Can you hear me, Isaac?

That was his name. But it was also his access-code. When his brain formed the exact pattern of neural activity which represented that word, a window opened in his head so that he could access some of his databases, query some of his programming. All the knowledge and guidance held in his datacore would have been wasted if he hadn't been allowed to tap a certain amount of it voluntarily, under the right conditions.

"How do I propose to pay for it?" Nick snorted into his pickup. "I propose to pay for it with results. results. If Vector succeeds, you can have a piece of whatever he learns. I can't tell you what that'll be because I don't know. But I can tell you If Vector succeeds, you can have a piece of whatever he learns. I can't tell you what that'll be because I don't know. But I can tell you this. this. The Amnion know things about mutation"-he might as well have said The Amnion know things about mutation"-he might as well have said gravitic tissue mutation gravitic tissue mutation-"that could be right in line with what you need."

If that gambit didn't gain what Nick wanted, nothing would.

That's why you're my son.

Angus' zone implants couldn't literally read his thoughts. They could recognize a finite number of specific synaptic patterns; but they interpreted his mental state primarily by identifying the presence of individual neurotransmitters, the changes in his blood chemistry. Their control operated directly on his motor centers. They weren't capable of managing-or even understanding-the ambiguous activity of his volition.

Why you'll always be my son.

Can you hear me, Isaac?

"Got you!" Nick crowed abruptly. "Got "Got you." you."

At once he swung his station to face his second as if he expected Angus to be impressed.

"They're going to let us in. There!" He pointed triumphantly at a schematic as it etched itself across one of the screens. "That's our course past the guns. It's all coming in"-he glanced at his readouts-"approach protocols, traffic and navigation data, ship id, everything we need.

"If Vector doesn't f.u.c.k up, we're going to be rich. rich. Beckmann is going to shove credit-jacks at us with both hands." Beckmann is going to shove credit-jacks at us with both hands."

Angus didn't respond. He couldn't. All his attention was turned inward: he was too full of desperation and pain to notice Nick. His wrists and ankles were tied to the slats tied to the slats, and he'd never had the strength to free himself.

When his datalink opened, he began to recite Punisher Punisher's message to himself, hoping that it would reach through the window to his datacore; hoping that the same resource which enabled his datacore to hear and comprehend Nick's orders would also enable it to receive his own mental voice.

Nick studied his readouts again; this time he stared as if he couldn't focus his eyes. The next instant something like a blow slammed him back in his g-seat. All the blood drained from his face, his scars; his eyes glared white, as pale as bone.

Then he flailed the air with his fists and gave a cry like the one with which he'd greeted Captain's Fancy's Captain's Fancy's destruction-the howl of a man whose heart was being torn open. destruction-the howl of a man whose heart was being torn open.

A moment later he looked back at Angus.

His face had changed like a mask. Stark pallor left his cheeks the color of his eyes; but his scars were livid with blood, so dark they seemed black. They underlined his white glare like streaks of violence.

"Soar is here," he breathed; whispered. "She beat us-she's already in." is here," he breathed; whispered. "She beat us-she's already in."

His fists clenched convulsively. A spasm twisted him against his belts.

"That b.i.t.c.h," he p.r.o.nounced distinctly, as if he were still in control of himself; as if he still knew what he was doing. "That f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h. This is her last mistake. Now she's mine!" mine!"

Angus finished his recitation.

He waited.

Nothing happened. He wasn't strong enough. His datalink remained active until he closed it; but nothing changed.

ANCILLARY.

DOc.u.mENTATION.

SYMBIOTIC.

CRYSTALLINE.

RESONANCE.

TRANSMISSION.

Theorists had argued for decades over the possibility of instantaneous communication across interstellar distances.

In practical terms, of course, the possibility didn't exist. All known means for the transmission of data were at once too inflexible and too vulnerable to be efficient across the vastness of s.p.a.ce. Waveforms such as radio, photon emissions such as lasers, line-pulses of the kind employed by electronic telecommunications: all were light-constant (therefore too slow when the distances involved were measured in light-years), and all were to varying degrees susceptible to distortion by gravity wells, electromagnetic furnaces, and plasma flares-not to mention obstruction by planetary or solar bodies, or even by the seas of dust which swept uncharted through the great void.

Furthermore, humankind had developed an alternative: the gap courier drone. By storing the data to be communicated and transporting it across the dimensional gap as a physical object, humans could obtain results which far exceeded anything mere microwaves or lasers might accomplish.

In practical terms, then, the whole question of instantaneous communication across interstellar distances was foolish: impossible on the one hand; unnecessary on the other.

Theorists who relished the foolish, ignored the impossible, and doted on the unnecessary were not daunted.

Many of them rationalized their efforts in these terms: In normal s.p.a.ce, waveforms traveled significantly faster than objects. Objects simply could not be accelerated up to the speed of light. As they approached c c, their ma.s.s experienced time dilation until at the last, unattainable moment it became infinite. Therefore, as objects approached c c, more and more force was required to accelerate them. The final, nearly infinite increments demanded nearly infinite energies.

And yet, in effect in effect, objects were able to travel much faster than light by the dimensional legerdemain of crossing the gap. The physical properties of objects enabled them to go into the gap-where no waveform could reach them-and emerge intact.

Well then, if such sleight of hand could be practiced upon objects-legerdemain that depended on the very physical properties which restricted matter to velocities lower than the speed of light-why could not an a.n.a.logous sleight be devised for waveforms, a sleight specific to the unique material properties of microwaves and light?

So some theorists argued. Their imaginings remained purely speculative, however, even fanciful, until the results of some rather specialized inquiries into the characteristics of certain crystalline structures became known.

Working in zero-g environments, crystallographers were able to design and produce crystals of a purity unknown on Earth: a purity which never occurred in nature. The original purpose of the inquiry was to study the relationship between the crystallographic planes and the "seed" atoms from which those planes were projected, on the plausible a.s.sumption that the planes represented a form of code which when deciphered might reveal new insights into the atoms themselves. And, of course, the purer the crystal, the more accurate the code. However, the research soon produced the secondary discovery that certain pure anisotropic crystals grown in pairs from nearly identical "twin" atoms had a property which became known as "symbiotic resonance." When one such twin was subjected to mechanical strain in order to induce a piezoelectric effect, the other exhibited an equal-and simultaneous-response.

It was as if both twins had been subjected to exactly the same strain at exactly the same moment, even though the crystals were not in physical contact with each other. In fact, the twins had been grown in separate containers and were insulated from each other by a variety of fluids and barriers.

Subsequent research determined that the range across which symbiotic resonance took place was a function, first, of the purity of the crystals and, second, of the similarity between their seed atoms. In particular, the more nearly identical the seed atoms were, the greater the obstacles-both of s.p.a.ce and of matter-which the twins could ignore in their response to each other.

Theorists interested in the possibility of instantaneous communication across interstellar distances were ecstatic.

Clearly, symbiotic resonance had the potential to be a means of data transmission. Piezoelectric responses could be produced as code in one twin and decoded from the reaction of the other. And if such communication could take place-without any measurable time lag-between one side of a lab and the other, why not between one side of a station and the other?

Why not between the station and Earth? Between Earth and her planets? Between Earth and the stars?

Crystallographers were unable to advance any theoretical objections. Certainly their research repeatedly confirmed that this resonance occurred independent of time. Yet practical objections abounded-and these were effectively insurmountable.

In order to achieve symbiotic resonance across distances greater than a few dozen meters, the seed atoms of the twins would need to be identical to standards so strict-identical down to the precise orbital placement of the component electrons-that they were virtually inconceivable to human minds; quite unattainable by human methods. The purity of the crystals themselves could be improved; but how could the seed atoms be made identical? Just as Einstein had defined the limits of physical velocity, Heisenberg had established the limits of atomic predetermination.

Crystallographers found it easier to believe that objects would one day be accelerated past the speed of light than to credit that individual seed atoms could ever be made identical.

Naturally the theorists were no more daunted now than they had been earlier. If communication by symbiotic resonance was effectively impossible for human minds using human methods, that didn't necessarily imply that it was impossible for other minds using other methods. Was it not conceivable, they argued, that the techniques of the Amnion might be equal to the challenge of symbiotic crystalline resonance transmission?

That was just a theory: no more inevitable than any other act of speculation. Nevertheless, the bare idea was enough to make the men and women charged with the defense of human s.p.a.ce-men like Warden Dios, women like Min Donner-break into a cold sweat.

DARRIN.

Captain Darrin Scroyle, master of the mercenary vessel Free Lunch Free Lunch, sat naked in his cabin, absentmindedly scratching the grizzled hair on his chest while he studied the readouts from his personal data console.

Displayed on one of the small screens was a schematic of the Ma.s.sif-5 system. His last reading of Trumpet's Trumpet's homing signal showed him the gap scout's point of insertion into the system. At the moment she was one easy gap crossing ahead of homing signal showed him the gap scout's point of insertion into the system. At the moment she was one easy gap crossing ahead of Free Lunch. Free Lunch.

For that matter, so was Punisher. Free Lunch Punisher. Free Lunch had been following the UMCP cruiser across the dark at a considerable distance; far enough back to be beyond the plausible reach of had been following the UMCP cruiser across the dark at a considerable distance; far enough back to be beyond the plausible reach of Punisher's Punisher's scan; close enough to keep track of her. With the information from scan; close enough to keep track of her. With the information from Trumpet's Trumpet's signal waiting in the vacuum like a series of signposts-and with signal waiting in the vacuum like a series of signposts-and with Punisher's Punisher's particle trace leading the way- particle trace leading the way-Free Lunch could have followed her target indefinitely. could have followed her target indefinitely.

Unfortunately she wasn't being paid to simply follow the gap scout. And Punisher Punisher stood between her and the fulfillment of her contract. stood between her and the fulfillment of her contract.

No doubt Punisher Punisher and and Free Lunch Free Lunch had diametrically opposed reasons for pursuing had diametrically opposed reasons for pursuing Trumpet. Trumpet. If If Free Lunch Free Lunch attacked the gap scout, attacked the gap scout, Punisher Punisher would fight to protect her. would fight to protect her.

Such things had happened before in Darrin Scroyle's experience. More than once he'd seen righteous Min Donner and conniving Hashi Lebwohl work at cross-purposes. At UMCPHQ the right hand had no idea what the left hand was doing.

He didn't find this amusing.

On the other hand, he wasn't disconcerted. He didn't care what Donner's loyalties were in this situation, or Lebwohl's. The only question which interested him was: Did Punisher Punisher know what he was doing now? Had she received warning of Hashi Lebwohl's intentions? Did she know that know what he was doing now? Had she received warning of Hashi Lebwohl's intentions? Did she know that Free Lunch Free Lunch had been given the codes to interpret had been given the codes to interpret Trumpet's Trumpet's homing signal? homing signal?

If Punisher Punisher had been warned, had been warned, Free Lunch Free Lunch might have an unusually difficult time fulfilling her contract. might have an unusually difficult time fulfilling her contract.

The cruiser was likely to be a formidable obstacle. According to his reputation, Captain Dolph Ubikwe had a casual att.i.tude toward UMCP protocol; but there was nothing casual about the way he carried out his orders.

If Darrin Scroyle couldn't outmaneuver Punisher Punisher somehow, he wouldn't be able to avoid a fight with the warship. somehow, he wouldn't be able to avoid a fight with the warship.

He wasn't afraid of that. Still he intended to avoid it if he could. His contract with Hashi Lebwohl didn't require him to be stupid.

Among mercenaries he was an old man. He had gray hair on his chest and head. He'd learned to forgive his paunch for being flabby. He let himself limp when his sciatica flared up; instinctively he distrusted the nerve implants which might have cured the ailment for him. By now he was old enough to know that nothing was ever simple.

That no longer bothered him. He and his ship had survived their uncompromising life for so long because he was relatively simple himself: he could concentrate on the complexities which affected him, and let the ones which didn't go.

"How does it look?"

Alesha asked her question from the master's bunk, where she lay waiting for him to finish what he was doing. Like him, she was naked. And like him, she was no longer young. Time made her once-proud b.r.e.a.s.t.s sag at the pull of Free Lunch's Free Lunch's internal spin. Her habitual seriousness had been twisted awry, so that her frown of concentration now resembled a crooked grin. She had less stamina than he remembered, and perhaps a bit less appet.i.te. internal spin. Her habitual seriousness had been twisted awry, so that her frown of concentration now resembled a crooked grin. She had less stamina than he remembered, and perhaps a bit less appet.i.te.

Nevertheless she was precious to him. He loved the comfort of her soft skin, even though it was no longer as taut as she wished; loved the taste of her nipples, even though they no longer hardened so readily against his tongue. And he treasured her refusal to dismiss complexities which meant nothing to him.

She was Alesha Hardaway, his targ first; but she was also his first cousin. Mercenary ships were like that: often interbred. They took on outsiders rarely. Outsiders who shared the same code, the same commitment-outsiders who could be trusted-were hard to find. Most of Darrin's crew had come from other mercenary vessels after time or violence, bad luck or bad judgment, had cost them the ability to fulfill their contracts. Alesha had been with him aboard Free Lunch Free Lunch from the beginning. from the beginning.

"About as we expected," he answered. Like her question, his reply was easy, companionable. "According to Trumpet's Trumpet's last signal, she's crossed into Valdor's system. last signal, she's crossed into Valdor's system. Punisher Punisher has already gone after her. We'll do the same as soon as I tell the bridge how I want it done. has already gone after her. We'll do the same as soon as I tell the bridge how I want it done.

"As for that other ship-the one coming in from Thanatos Minor-we haven't seen her for twenty-four hours. I don't know where she is. So I'm going to a.s.sume she's there, too"-he tapped his schematic, although Alesha couldn't see it from where she lay-"trying to get to Trumpet Trumpet ahead of all of us." ahead of all of us."

Alesha considered for a moment, then asked, "How do do you want it done?" you want it done?"

He turned his back on the board so that he could look at her. She faced him on her belly, with her chin propped on her folded arms. Dimpled by time, her flanks curved toward the cleft between her legs.

"I guess I've known you too long," he responded. "For some reason I'm sure that's not the question you want to ask first."

She gave him her twisted frown. "Am I that obvious?"

He pursed his mouth. "I wouldn't have called it 'obvious. I've just known you for a long time. As a general rule I do try to learn from experience."

"All right, then." Her gaze held his thoughtfully. "I wish you would tell me again why we're doing this. It's going to be dangerous."

She may well have been the only person aboard who would have asked such a question. He hoped so. Nevertheless he had no trouble thinking of an answer.

"Because we're being paid what the danger is worth."

That was his code: the the code. Get paid what the job was worth. Then do it. Or turn it down and forget about it. No second-guessing; no after-the-fact scruples; no self-pity; no cold feet. Get paid for the job and then do it. Otherwise life didn't make much sense. code. Get paid what the job was worth. Then do it. Or turn it down and forget about it. No second-guessing; no after-the-fact scruples; no self-pity; no cold feet. Get paid for the job and then do it. Otherwise life didn't make much sense.

The alternative was vampirism: living off other people's blood and sweat. If life didn't make sense, he might as well have been an illegal. Or a cop.

Alesha didn't think that way, however. She shared his commitments, but she was bedeviled by gray areas and complications.

"How can you be sure?" Her sober gaze held him. "The whole thing stinks of plots and counterplots. How can you know how much the danger is worth?"

He shrugged. "I can't. But I'll stand by my own decisions. I didn't take the job blindly. And I like what we're getting paid for it."

She shook her head. "There are different kinds of blindness. Did Lebwohl tell you why he wants Trumpet Trumpet killed?" killed?"

"You know he didn't. He's a client. I don't expect him to tell me what his reasons are."

"Then how-?"

"All right." Darrin didn't need to feign patience. If she hadn't asked him such questions, he would have valued her less. And he wasn't afraid to admit that the circ.u.mstances were complex. Only his commitment to his own actions needed to be kept simple. "Here's how I see it.

"Trumpet is a UMCP ship." While he explained, he resumed scratching through the hair on his chest. "She went to Thanatos Minor with a famous illegal in command and Com-Mine's former deputy chief of Security for crew-presumably some kind of covert operation. Maybe she was sent to blow up Billingate? I don't know. But I do know this. While she was there, the Bill managed to lose the contents of an ejection pod which was originally supposed to be delivered to the Amnion by Nick Succorso. is a UMCP ship." While he explained, he resumed scratching through the hair on his chest. "She went to Thanatos Minor with a famous illegal in command and Com-Mine's former deputy chief of Security for crew-presumably some kind of covert operation. Maybe she was sent to blow up Billingate? I don't know. But I do know this. While she was there, the Bill managed to lose the contents of an ejection pod which was originally supposed to be delivered to the Amnion by Nick Succorso.

"Succorso met Thermopyle in a bar. During the fight before the planetoid blew, Succorso and the Amnion each lost a ship. But by that time Trumpet Trumpet had considerably more than a crew of two. We know because we saw them go EVA-and come back. It sure looked like had considerably more than a crew of two. We know because we saw them go EVA-and come back. It sure looked like Captain's Fancy Captain's Fancy got herself killed to keep them alive. got herself killed to keep them alive.