Chaos And Order_ The Gap Into Madness Part 52

"I'll go with him," he announced. "Make sure he doesn't turn against you."

Vector and Morn gaped at him in shock.

"You're right, he can't destroy her." Shivers of apprehension ran through his voice. "But he could do some damage. He might hurt her enough so that you can beat her." His throat closed involuntarily. He needed a moment before he could force himself to say, "When you're done, you can come back for me."

"Motherf.u.c.ker," Angus muttered to no one in particular. "Motherf.u.c.king sonofab.i.t.c.h. It might help."

"Sib," Morn cried quietly. She was weeping again. Small constellations of tears drifted in front of her face; pieces of loss. "You don't have to do that. It's too much. What if something goes wrong? What if we don't find you in time? Morn cried quietly. She was weeping again. Small constellations of tears drifted in front of her face; pieces of loss. "You don't have to do that. It's too much. What if something goes wrong? What if we don't find you in time?

"What if she takes you?"

What if she captures you and gives you one of her mutagens?

Sib shrugged as if he were breaking inside. "I've been afraid all my life. I've let the Amnion have too many people. I need to make up for it.

"When I let you out of your cabin, that was a start. Now I can't quit.

"And I think Davies is right. We have to stop Soar Soar somehow. We can't just run away from her. She's too dangerous. somehow. We can't just run away from her. She's too dangerous.

"If I go with Nick, I can protect you. And maybe I can help him damage her."

"Sure," Nick p.r.o.nounced with approval. "Sure."

Morn turned away as if she couldn't bear to look at the men around her anymore.

Vector studied her for a moment, his concern plain on his face. Then he turned to Angus. "We ought to make a decision-while we still have time." Unfamiliar dismay and anger plucked at the corners of his mouth. "I've told you what I think. You've heard Davies, Nick, and Sib. Now I guess it's up to you.

"What're we going to do?"

Angus bared his teeth, unconsciously mimicking Nick's grin. He didn't hesitate. A feral light shone on his features as he swung toward Davies and Nick; put his back to Morn.

"I want to get rid of Succorso," he answered. "I would have done it myself already, but my programming won't let me. I want to pay back that fat b.a.s.t.a.r.d Taverner somehow. And I want help against Soar. Soar. That proton cannon is a h.e.l.l of a gun. I don't like tackling her without-something extra. That proton cannon is a h.e.l.l of a gun. I don't like tackling her without-something extra.

"We'll take a chance. See if Captain Sheepf.u.c.ker's as crazy as Davies says he is."

He considered Sib momentarily. Then he told Vector, "I don't need him. If he wants to cover us, I say let him."

Sib sighed as if he'd hoped Angus would refuse him.

Davies ducked his head to conceal a relief so intense that it brought tears to his eyes.

Without pausing Angus ran a command on his board, wheeled his station so that he could see the results on the screen. "We're coming up on a rock you can use. It's big enough to hide behind-not so big it'll get in your way. Time to move."

He aimed a glare at Sib. "Get it right," he growled. "If you screw up, we're all going to feel like s.h.i.t.

"Take him to the EVA locker. Strap his arms behind him after he puts on a suit. You carry the guns. I'll take you close-you can drift to the rock. If you need them, the suits have jets. Don't cut him loose until we're out of range. After that he probably won't turn on you. If he isn't completely crazy, he'll realize he might need you.

"We won't be able to talk to you for long. Too much rock and static in the way. And we don't have Beckmann's relay net. But those suits have distress beepers we can use to find you later. If we don't come back, it'll be because we can't."

Angus made a rough gesture of dismissal. "Go."

Deliberately he began concentrating on his board as if Sib and Nick were already gone.

Davies scrubbed his eyes clear. For a short time, at least, his relief had changed everything. The fire in him had been temporarily appeased. In its place he felt abashed at the scale of the risk Sib had agreed to take.

Because he needed to express his grat.i.tude somehow, he moved to help Sib with Nick.

Sib nodded as Davies untaped Nick from the handgrip, but he didn't say anything. His determination took the form of a dumb misery with no other outlet His skin was damp with anxiety: the moisture in his eyes was liquid fear.

Nick paid no attention to them. He was murmuring to himself, happily repeating the same phrases and sentences over and over again. "Poor b.i.t.c.h. She's dead, and she doesn't even know it yet. She's laughed at me for the last time. Poor b.i.t.c.h."

Together Sib and Davies steered him to the companionway.

"Davies."

Morn's low voice stopped him like a hand on his shoulder. Bracing himself against the rail, he turned to look at her.

"What's happening to you?" she asked for the second time. Her eyes were as dark as gaps opening on the abyss between the stars. "Who are you?"

At once his relief died: flames leaped up to devour it. A blaze that might have been rage filled him like his father's hate. When he needed her, she turned her back on him. Instead of backing him, helping him, she was afraid of him.

"As far as I can tell," he answered her, grinding the words between his teeth, "I'm Bryony Hyland's daughter. The one she used to have-before you sold your soul for a zone implant."

Leaving a sting of bitterness in the air behind him, he tugged Nick and Sib up the companionway off the bridge.

SIB.

Sib Mackern wanted to be spared.

In retrospect, he thought that must have been what he'd wanted his entire life. Perhaps it was because he'd been spared so little, Unheeded supplication was his whole story.

Spare me.

No.

Right from the beginning- His name was short for "Sibal": his mother had wished for a girl. Ever since he'd become conscious of it, he'd wanted to be spared his own name.

No.

He'd never liked data work, never liked s.p.a.ce or ships. In particular he hadn't liked his family's orehauler. Spare me, he'd said-not in so many words, but in every other way he could think of. Nevertheless his father had compelled him, because he was needed. And that had led him to the one crucial occasion on which he'd tried to spare himself.

When an illegal had peeled upon the orehauler, he'd hidden between the hulls in an EVA suit. At the time he'd had the crazy idea that he might reach one of the guns and use it. An idea as crazy as Nick's. That's the only reason I'm still here That's the only reason I'm still here, he'd told Morn and Davies. Still human Still human- We weren't killed. Instead of killing us, they lined us up and started injecting us with mutagens.

I saw everything. If they were just being killed, I would have gone back inside and tried to fight for them. I might have. I was desperate enough. But I saw them injected. I saw them change. It paralyzed me.

Then he'd started screaming. He hadn't been able to stop. But first he'd deactivated his suit pickup.

Sparing himself- He'd gone on screaming until he'd lost his voice. He was irrationally sure that as long as he could hear his own voice he wouldn't be turned Amnion just by watching his family mutate.

Of course, events had shown that there was a price to pay for being spared. Always. Inevitably. He'd been rescued by a pirate looking for illegal salvage. That had been bad enough. But a few years later, still hoping to evade his endless fear, he'd tried to change his fate by joining Nick Succorso.

Crime after crime, Nick had taught him to hear that implacable no no whenever he found himself begging the blank stars for mercy he couldn't have and probably didn't deserve. whenever he found himself begging the blank stars for mercy he couldn't have and probably didn't deserve.

In a sense, when he'd first turned against Nick by helping Morn out of her cabin, he might have been trying to deserve what was going to happen to him anyway.

Now he was doing it again. Only this time it was much worse. This time he was helping Davies guide Nick along Trumpet's Trumpet's central pa.s.sage toward the suit locker. He was going to go EVA central pa.s.sage toward the suit locker. He was going to go EVA again again in the wild hope that he would be able to protect the people he cared about in the wild hope that he would be able to protect the people he cared about again. again. And he was doing it in the company of the man he feared and distrusted most. He could feel everything inside him sweating with horror. And he was doing it in the company of the man he feared and distrusted most. He could feel everything inside him sweating with horror.

Spare me.

No.

He must have been out of his mind.

"She's dead," Nick muttered cheerfully, "and she doesn't even know it. Poor b.i.t.c.h."

Davies ignored Nick. As they pa.s.sed sickbay, he said suddenly, "Just a minute." Releasing Nick, he opened the door and went inside. When he came back out, he had a scalpel in his hand. "For cutting tape," he explained.

"She's laughed at me for the last time," Nick promised nonchalantly.

Steering him between them, Sib and Davies moved on to the suit locker.

Indicators above the compartment showed that it was unlocked: Angus had entered the necessary codes from the bridge. Sib and Davies positioned Nick in front of the locker. Then Sib drifted a meter or two away and drew his handgun while Davies began slashing Nick's bonds.

As soon as his arms came free, Nick stopped muttering.

In a spasm of activity, he stripped the rest of the tape off his limbs, wadded it up, flung it away. At once Davies floated out of reach. Instinctively Sib tightened his grip on the gun. He couldn't hold it steady-he'd never been any good with firearms-but he hoped Nick would believe that he couldn't miss at this range, no matter how much he wavered.

Nick stretched his arms, twisted his back until his spine cracked. "That's better," he announced. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Without transition he looked like his old self-confident, cunning, and unbeatable. All sign of the tic which had once distorted his insouciance was gone. He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Sib's gun, bent his mouth in mock chagrin, then chuckled to himself and turned to open the suit locker.

"Which one did I wear last time?" he asked rhetorically. "Oh, here it is."

Whistling tunelessly through his teeth, he pulled an EVA suit from its hangers and began climbing into it.

He checked the suit's indicators and seals casually, as if he already knew that nothing could go wrong. The helmet went over his head and locked into place. He snapped the faceplate shut; his features slowly vanished as he tuned the plate's reflective surface. With a hiss, air processing inflated the suit.

"Are you ready?" Sib asked, although he wasn't sure that Nick could hear him.

But Nick had activated his suit's transceivers. His external speaker crackled. "Do it," he instructed. "I want to get this part over with."

He put his arms behind him, making it easy for Sib and Davies to bind him.

His confidence scared Sib almost as badly as what they were planning to do. But Sib had made this decision himself: he needed to go through with it. If he didn't, the pain of being refused mercy again again would be more than he could bear. would be more than he could bear.

He tossed his roll of tape to Davies and kept his gun aimed at Nick while Davies strapped Nick's arms.

Then it was his turn. He didn't hesitate: he'd been hesitant all his life, and it only made matters worse. There was a price to pay for being spared. Always. Inevitably. He gave his handgun to Davies, picked out an EVA suit, and settled into it.

The sensation of the waldo harness around his hips reminded him that he hadn't been able to control his maneuvering jets on Thanatos Minor. Maybe they would be easier to use in zero g. Or maybe he would misfire them; send himself tumbling away from the ship and Nick, out of reach, beyond hope- If that happened, he would have to beg Trumpet Trumpet to save him. to save him.

He trusted Morn and Davies. He trusted Mikka and Vector. Nevertheless he already knew the answer.

Spare me.

No.

"Give me a line of tape," he told Davies, "so I can hold on to him. I'm no good with these jets. If we're separated, I might not be able to get back to him."

Davies nodded: he'd seen Sib's difficulties on Thanatos Minor. While Sib finished checking his suit and sealing himself into his helmet, Davies attached ten meters of tape to Nick's wrists and folded it over its adhesive to form a rope.

His suit's air processor built pressure in Sib's lungs. The indicators inside his helmet told him that the suit's atmosphere was identical to Trumpet's. Trumpet's. Still he felt that he couldn't breathe. With the controls on his chestplate, he reduced the volume of air, increased the proportion of oxygen. Gradually some of his claustrophobia eased. Still he felt that he couldn't breathe. With the controls on his chestplate, he reduced the volume of air, increased the proportion of oxygen. Gradually some of his claustrophobia eased.

He'd forgotten to toggle his transceivers. Davies moved his mouth soundlessly for a moment, then reached out to key a frequency on Sib's chestplate. At once the internal speaker came to life.

"Pay attention, Sib," Nick said. "If you can't hear me, we might as well stay here. We'll be useless."

At the same time Sib heard Davies say, "I'll give Angus your frequency. We'll hear you as long as you're in range. Which won't be more than a few minutes under these conditions. But if you need help during that time, we can probably do something."

Sib nodded dumbly, then realized that Davies couldn't see his face. Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, he replied, "All right."

Davies moved to the nearest intercom to talk to Angus. He kept the gun pointed at Nick's head.

Because he'd left himself no choice, Sib drifted past them toward the weapons locker.

Angus coded the locker open as Sib reached it. Determined not to hesitate, not to freeze-not to let the vast cold outside the ship consume him-Sib selected a laser rifle the size of a portable missile launcher for Nick, picked a smaller rifle for himself. Without waiting for Nick's approval, he closed the locker.

"Fine," Nick p.r.o.nounced as soon as he saw Sib's choices. "If I can't cut into Sorus with that, I'm wasting my time. That matter cannon Angus lugs around doesn't hold enough charge."

"They're ready, Angus," Davies told the intercom. "We're going to the lift now."

Ready? Sib thought. Ready? He wasn't sure the word made sense. Had he ever been ready for anything?

But Nick was ready. Even though his arms were taped behind him, he seemed primed for action. He kicked himself in the direction of the lift before Davies finished talking to Angus.

Sib followed as if he were being tugged along by Nick's eagerness.

The lift was waiting. By the time Sib and then Davies reached it, Nick had already entered the car.

The bulk of the rifles made Sib awkward. He missed his hold and carried past the lift. Floundering, he tried to recover, but his momentum took him down the pa.s.sage. The suit's humidity indicators climbed as he sweated and gasped.

Davies caught him. He gave Sib a look like one of Angus' glares, angry or contemptuous, and steered him back to the lift.

"Thanks," Sib murmured, nearly panting.

Covering Nick with his handgun, Davies guided Sib into the car and keyed the door shut.