On the other hand, how long could he stay sane without sleep?

When he'd watched her wake up for a moment, he asked, "Are you all right?" His voice came out in a knotted croak, as if he'd spent hours with his throat clenched, waiting for her.

She nodded. Drained by transition, she fumbled at the g-seals which secured her in her bunk; opened the inner sheath, the outer webbing. With her fingers wrapped in the webbing so that she wouldn't float away, she swung her legs over the edge and sat up.

Giddiness and the lack of g swept through her. She had the uncomfortable impression that Trumpet Trumpet was spinning; tumbling end over end like a derelict. But after a moment her zero-g training rea.s.serted itself, and her disorientation pa.s.sed. was spinning; tumbling end over end like a derelict. But after a moment her zero-g training rea.s.serted itself, and her disorientation pa.s.sed.

Swallowing at the taste of lost dreams, she murmured, "Where are we?"

He replied with a frown like his father's. "Angus says we're one crossing away from Ma.s.sif-5. Once we get there, we'll have to be ready for hard g almost constantly, so he wants to give us a chance to move around now. Tach in seventy minutes. He says." Davies' mouth twisted in disgust. "Unless he changes his mind again."

Morn sighed at the reminder of Angus' belligerence. It scared her more than she wanted to admit. "He won't if we don't give him an excuse. We can keep away from the bridge. Maybe he'll stay calm."

Davies snorted. Apparently the idea of simply trying to stay out of trouble didn't satisfy him. The muscles at the corners of his jaw bunched and released, chewing bitterness. His hand tightened on her black box. "What's wrong with him?" he protested abruptly. "What changed? He wasn't like this before we left forbidden s.p.a.ce. Then I thought he was actually on our side. Now he acts like he's nursing some kind of grievance."

Morn bowed her head in the face of Davies' distress. How could she help him? She knew nothing about the aftereffects of force-growing and mind-transference; or of gestation and birth under the influence of a zone implant. And she could hardly function herself without artificial support. Angus was a subject she didn't want to examine. She was still in his power, even though he no longer held her zone implant control. Everything she did and said, everything she was was, bore the taint of his brutality.

His and Nick's.

And yet Davies was her son.

Holding herself to the bunk, she shrugged. "You know as much about him as I do."

"I know more," he retorted harshly. "I spent time with him before he got you away from the Amnion. I know he doesn't care about me. Having a son doesn't mean s.h.i.t to him." Morn shook her head slowly, but Davies didn't stop. "He only rescued me because Nick tricked him into thinking he could trade me for you.

"It's you you he cares about." Davies' gaze burned as if he had a grievance of his own; as if he blamed her for the fact that his father didn't value him. "He wants you-but it's more than that. He wants to please you. That's why I believed he was on our side. He wants to do whatever you want him to do. he cares about." Davies' gaze burned as if he had a grievance of his own; as if he blamed her for the fact that his father didn't value him. "He wants you-but it's more than that. He wants to please you. That's why I believed he was on our side. He wants to do whatever you want him to do.

"Or he did. Now I can't tell what's going on."

His pain made her heart ache. Oh, Davies. My poor boy. You didn't ask for this. You don't deserve any of it.

Nevertheless she kept that kind of comfort to herself. He was too old for it. His body was at least sixteen. And his mind, his comprehension, was both older and younger than hers-aged by her sufferings as well as his own; yet immature in experience.

"That bothers you," she said carefully.

For a moment he forgot to hold himself down. The burst of vehemence which ran through him sent him tumbling for the ceiling. Fiercely he thrust himself back to his bunk, clung there.

"Morn, I'm alone here. I mean here" here" He hit his forehead with the heel of one palm. "Everything I remember tells me I'm you. I know that's not true, but my memories say it is. I need- He hit his forehead with the heel of one palm. "Everything I remember tells me I'm you. I know that's not true, but my memories say it is. I need- "I don't know how to put it." In anguish he broke out, "I need a father. father. Something to anchor myself on. An image to help me hold on to who I am. Something to anchor myself on. An image to help me hold on to who I am.

"He could do that for me. He's a butcher and a rapist and worse-I know that, I can't get it out of my head-but at least I look look like him. He's the only image strong enough to help me. But every time I try to concentrate on it, he does something that makes me want to hit him with a matter cannon. like him. He's the only image strong enough to help me. But every time I try to concentrate on it, he does something that makes me want to hit him with a matter cannon.

"It's like he rapes me inside, violates-"

Davies stopped as if he were choking. Now his air of grievance was gone. He looked like a young kid, appallingly young, with nowhere to turn.

Morn wanted to weep. The thought that her son, her son her son, needed Angus-that he had hungers which only Angus could satisfy-seemed to be more than she could bear. Wasn't it bad enough that every part of her own being had been marred and stained by Angus' abuse? Did her son require his imprint as well?

Yet how could she protest? What right did she have? His dilemma was of her making. The responsibility was hers; absolutely; beyond appeal.

And Angus was her responsibility as well. Instead of abandoning him to the trap which Nick had set for him, she'd accepted her zone implant control from him and let him live. In the name of her own hungers, her naked and irreducible inadequacy, she'd spared him the death sentence which would have followed his conviction for unauthorized use of a zone implant.

She had no choice: she had to bear it. Davies needed some kind of answer from her.

"Try thinking about my father instead." Simply mentioning that Davies Hyland, whom she had loved and killed, lacerated her. Nevertheless she made the effort, even though it seemed to tear at her chest, filling her lungs with blood. "The man you're named for. You remember him as well as I do.

"If the cops are corrupt, that's Data Acquisition and Administration. Hashi Lebwohl and Warden Dios. Not Min Donner. ED is clean.

"But even if she's like them, my father wasn't. Angus told me-" Her throat closed on the words. She had to swallow a rush of grief before she could go on. "After I crashed Starmaster Starmaster, there were still a few of us alive. My father was one of them. Angus says he was flash-blinded in the explosion. But even blind he didn't stop fighting for his ship. Didn't stop being a cop.

"When Angus boarded the wreck, my father tried to arrest him. Tried to commandeer his ship. Tried to bluff it through, even though he couldn't see-"

Her throat clenched shut again. Until the memory released her, she couldn't speak. Then she finished, "That's the best I can do. He's all I have." And Bryony Hyland, his wife, Morn's mother, who had loved and believed and fought with all her heart; who had died saving her ship and her shipmates from Gutbuster Gutbuster's super-light proton cannon. "There isn't anything else."

But they were enough. For her, if not for her son: they were enough.

"Come on," she said quietly, fighting to recover her composure. "Let's get something to eat. We're going to need it."

At first Davies didn't react. He watched her with a tightness like Angus' anger around his mouth and a look of desolation in his eyes. And yet she guessed that he was helpless to contradict her. All the deepest parts of his mind insisted that he was her; that the captain of Starmaster Starmaster had been his father. had been his father.

Slowly he took a breath, let go of her with his gaze. Briefly he considered her zone implant control as if he'd learned to hate it. He would never have been born if she hadn't used it to win her contest with Nick. And she would never have gotten pregnant if Angus hadn't put a zone implant in her head.

Scowling like a wasteland, he opened his fingers with a small flick which floated the control toward her.

She caught it in her free hand and shoved it down into a pocket of her shipsuit without taking her eyes off him.

"You're right," he muttered distantly. "We need food."

He didn't look at her as he left his bunk, coasted to the door, and keyed it open. There, however, he stopped. Holding on to one of the handgrips by the door, he met her aching gaze.

"I don't blame you," he said quietly. "I remember too much. What happened to you. How you felt. Why you did what you did." He made an abortive attempt to laugh. "I would have done the same thing."

Pushing against the handgrip, he drifted backward out into the pa.s.sage which ran through Trumpet's Trumpet's core. core.

As she followed him, Morn had to fight down a different desire to weep. His understanding felt like forgiveness for crimes and failings which should have been unforgivable.

Like Captain's Fancy's, Trumpet's Captain's Fancy's, Trumpet's galley was hardly more than a niche in one wall of the central pa.s.sage. However, its foodvends and dispensers as well as other furnishings were designed for use during weightlessness. The dispensers pumped coffee, soup, and other liquids into g-flasks; the foodvends primarily offered pressed foodbars and compact sandwiches which wouldn't break into crumbs and drift away. Stools bolted to the deck lined the one narrow table, and restraints could be attached to cleats on the sides of the stools and along the walls. galley was hardly more than a niche in one wall of the central pa.s.sage. However, its foodvends and dispensers as well as other furnishings were designed for use during weightlessness. The dispensers pumped coffee, soup, and other liquids into g-flasks; the foodvends primarily offered pressed foodbars and compact sandwiches which wouldn't break into crumbs and drift away. Stools bolted to the deck lined the one narrow table, and restraints could be attached to cleats on the sides of the stools and along the walls.

Several hours ago, during one of Angus' longer pauses between gap crossings, Davies had located a locker full of equipment like zero-g belts and clamps, and had appropriated a couple of belts for himself and Morn. When they'd prepared their meals, they were able to hook themselves to the stools and eat without bobbing away from the table whenever they moved their arms.

They ate in silence until Sib Mackern eased into the galley and asked if he could join them.

Morn gestured toward a stool. Davies mumbled, "Sure," around a mouthful of food.

Awkward with anxiety, Sib pushed himself around the niche until his meal was ready. Then he moved to a stool across the table from Davies and Morn. Like them, he'd found or been given a zero-g belt. When he'd clipped himself down, he frowned at his foodbars and g-flask as if he couldn't remember why he'd thought he was hungry.

With her head lowered, Morn studied him un.o.btrusively past the fringe of her hair. Aboard Captain's Fancy Captain's Fancy he'd let her out of her prison so that she could try to save Davies from the Amnion. Like Mikka and Vector in different ways, he'd risked betraying Nick for her sake; risked having his heart cut out-But the former data first didn't look like a man who took such chances. He seemed to give off an air of vague desperation. His pale features had an apologetic cast; his thin mustache might have been nothing more than grime on his upper lip. His determination to keep guard on Nick had left him drained and ragged. he'd let her out of her prison so that she could try to save Davies from the Amnion. Like Mikka and Vector in different ways, he'd risked betraying Nick for her sake; risked having his heart cut out-But the former data first didn't look like a man who took such chances. He seemed to give off an air of vague desperation. His pale features had an apologetic cast; his thin mustache might have been nothing more than grime on his upper lip. His determination to keep guard on Nick had left him drained and ragged.

She still wondered why he'd helped her. In one sense, all opposition to Nick struck her as reasonable, natural. But Sib had served aboard Captain's Fancy Captain's Fancy for some time; had presumably fallen under the spell of Nick's apparent infallibility. Why had he changed his allegiance? In her cabin, before he'd let her out, he'd said, for some time; had presumably fallen under the spell of Nick's apparent infallibility. Why had he changed his allegiance? In her cabin, before he'd let her out, he'd said, Since I joined him, we've done things that made me sick. They gave me nightmares and made me wake up screaming. Since I joined him, we've done things that made me sick. They gave me nightmares and made me wake up screaming. His revulsion came back to her as she remembered how he'd helped her. His revulsion came back to her as she remembered how he'd helped her. But nothing like that. Nothing like selling a human being to the Amnion. But nothing like that. Nothing like selling a human being to the Amnion.

I've seen seen them, Morn. Those mutagens are evil. them, Morn. Those mutagens are evil.

What had he seen?

Hoping that he would be willing to talk, she tried to start a conversation by asking, "Where is everybody?"

Sib didn't appear to feel any reluctance. His apprehension needed an outlet. "Nick's in his cabin. Sleeping, probably. Or maybe he just sits there grinning at the walls." Sib shuddered at the thought, but he made a palpable effort to keep himself calm. "There's nowhere he can go without pa.s.sing the galley, so I decided I could afford to get something to eat."

For a moment he stopped as if Nick were the only question that mattered. When first Morn and then Davies looked up at him, however, he went on, "Vector's still working-he acts like he's forgotten that even engineers need food and sleep. Sometimes I forget how much his joints hurt when there's g. He seems to have a lot more energy when he's weightless.

"I guess Mikka and Ciro are in their cabin." The harmonics of strain sharpened in his tone. "I haven't seen them since Angus sent her off the bridge."

A frown pinched Davies' forehead. He swallowed a gulp from his g-flask, cleared his throat, and said abruptly, "We're looking for theories." He indicated Morn with a glance. "What do you think Angus' problem is?"

Sib shrugged with an air of helplessness. To all appearances he'd been out of his depth ever since Nick promoted him to be Captain's Fancy Captain's Fancy's data first. Nevertheless he tried to answer.

"He and Nick are natural enemies. They hate each other. But the way they hate each other-" His voice trailed off into dismay. Then, however, he rallied. "They would rather be allies than take sides with anybody else."

Morn shook her head. Her impression of Angus was that his essential hatred was undifferentiated-at once so diffuse and so global that it made no real distinction between illegals and cops. It simply attached itself to anyone available. In any case, she couldn't imagine the circ.u.mstances under which Angus might forget-never mind forgive-the fact that Nick had framed him; beaten him.

Unfortunately there were other possibilities- Why was was Angus here, aboard a UMCP ship, surrounded by people he didn't like or need? And why had he accepted the idea of heading for a bootleg lab? Because he'd made some kind of deal with Hashi Lebwohl: so he said-or at least implied. To save his life, he'd agreed to carry out a covert attack on Billingate, and to rescue-Morn herself? Nick?-if he could. Angus here, aboard a UMCP ship, surrounded by people he didn't like or need? And why had he accepted the idea of heading for a bootleg lab? Because he'd made some kind of deal with Hashi Lebwohl: so he said-or at least implied. To save his life, he'd agreed to carry out a covert attack on Billingate, and to rescue-Morn herself? Nick?-if he could.

Nick was an occasional DA operative: he'd worked for Lebwohl. Did Angus have further orders he hadn't mentioned, orders which required him to ally himself with Nick in order to carry out some additional part of his deal?

Without transition the galley seemed to become uncomfortably warm, as if the foodvends were overheating. Morn felt sweat trickling down her spine, running like lice across her ribs.

"We're in trouble." She was hardly aware that she spoke aloud. "We're in deep trouble."

Davies turned toward her, opened his mouth to ask her what she meant. Sib was caught up in his own fears, however; he thought Morn was sharing them with him.

"I know," he agreed. "But I don't think it matters what Angus is doing. Nick Nick hasn't changed. He's still-" His throat worked convulsively. "He's still willing to sell any of us. As soon as he gets the chance." hasn't changed. He's still-" His throat worked convulsively. "He's still willing to sell any of us. As soon as he gets the chance."

Fighting nausea, she warned Davies to silence with a brusque gesture. Her memories were a black hole: they threatened to drag her down. She wanted to hear whatever Sib might say; wanted anything anything which might help her cling to the present. which might help her cling to the present.

"You told me once"-her voice throbbed with effort-"you've seen what the Amnion do. You called it 'evil.' "

Sib bobbed his head. "Yes." He tried to smile, but the attempt only made him look lost. "That's not a word you hear illegals use very often. But I know what I'm talking about."

He wanted to tell his story: that was plain. He couldn't face it without squirming, however, despite its importance to him. He spoke in awkward bursts and pauses, like a man who didn't know how to forget pain. Blinded by recollection, he stared through Morn as if he were alone with his past.

"I never really belonged on a ship like Captain's Fancy. Captain's Fancy. You knew that-I'm sure you could see it as soon as you came aboard. Nick used to tell me I didn't have the guts for it, and he was right. But that's not the only reason I didn't belong. You knew that-I'm sure you could see it as soon as you came aboard. Nick used to tell me I didn't have the guts for it, and he was right. But that's not the only reason I didn't belong.

"My family was merchanter. We had our own ship-this was about fifteen years ago"-Morn guessed that Sib may have been near Davies' age at the time-"and like practically everybody else who owned a ship, we were orehaulers. Actually we did most of our work where we're going now, in-system around Valdor Industrial, but we had a small gap drive, so we could pick our markets when we needed to. We weren't exactly getting rich, but we weren't doing badly, either."

Like Morn, he seemed to feel the galley getting warmer. Sweat formed slow beads on his temples and oozed on his cheeks.

"Our last run, we were hired to pick up a load of selenium and most of the miners from an operation on one of the moons of a planet that orbits Lesser Ma.s.sif-5. The planet was about as far away from Valdor as it ever got, but its...o...b..t was ready to carry it between the suns-which was like dropping it into a smelter. The mine had to be abandoned, at least for a year or two.

"We picked up the miners, no problem, and as much of the selenium as we could hold, and headed back around the suns for Valdor, But we had to swing wide to avoid a particularly violent asteroid swarm, so we ended up closer to the fringes of the system than we liked-we were too far away from the main shipping lanes and the UMCP patrols to be comfortable about it. But we'd done things like that before, when we had to. We didn't know any reason why this time should be different. Add a month or two to the trip, then we would be back in port."

Sweat gathered on his forehead. His eyebrows were dark with moisture. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, then clutched his fingers together in front of him.

"Of course, it was was different. This time a blip that looked like just part of the swarm turned put to be illegal. Right when we stopped worrying about it, she came after us. They hit us with some kind of gun, I still don't know what it was, but it peeled us open like a storage container. We couldn't begin to defend ourselves, our own guns went out at the first hit. Then they grappled on and burned their way aboard. different. This time a blip that looked like just part of the swarm turned put to be illegal. Right when we stopped worrying about it, she came after us. They hit us with some kind of gun, I still don't know what it was, but it peeled us open like a storage container. We couldn't begin to defend ourselves, our own guns went out at the first hit. Then they grappled on and burned their way aboard.

"They took the selenium. You would expect that, under the circ.u.mstances. But they didn't kill any of us. I mean, not after the fighting was over. We thought we were going to be torched, or maybe just shoved out the airlock, but we weren't.

"I was hiding between the hulls, in an EVA suit. I've never been really brave, but for some reason when we were hit I had the crazy idea I might be able to reach one of the guns and get it working again, so I climbed into a suit and went outside. That's the only reason I'm still here. Still human-"

For a moment his voice trailed away. His hands seemed to writhe against each other as he forced himself to go on.

"We-my family-all those miners-We weren't killed. I'd never heard of illegals like that, I didn't know they existed. They weren't ordinary pirates, they were traitors, they worked directly for the Amnion." He seemed unconscious of the sweat trickling into his eyes. "Instead of killing us, they lined us up and started injecting us with mutagens."

Davies snarled deep in his throat-an involuntary growl of anger and protest. Morn put her hand on his arm to keep him still, but her eyes didn't leave Sib's face.

"I had a video link with the bridge," Sib said as if he were haunted by the memory; hunted by it. "I saw everything. If they were just being killed-my family-the others-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. I started screaming-I couldn't help that-but I cut off my pickup first.

"My whole family and all those miners, the ones who weren't already dead-They were made into Amnion. Eventually they boarded the other ship and left me."

With an effort, he pulled his fingers apart, separated his hands. But then they seemed to have nowhere to go. Slowly they crept together, clung to each other again.

"I kept on screaming until I lost my voice. I thought as long as I could hear myself I wouldn't go insane." He swallowed like a spasm. "For some reason I was afraid I might be turned into an Amnioni just by watching it done to my family. But of course that didn't happen.

"None of it had to happen." Blinking at a blur of sweat, he brought his gaze back into focus on Morn. There was no anger in his tone: he lacked her ability to hold a grudge; didn't have that defense against what had happened to him. "We'd been sending status reports to Valdor ever since we encountered the asteroid swarm. And as soon as we spotted that ship, we started yelling for help.

"We knew someone heard us because we got an answer. From the cops. UMCP cruiser Vehemence Vehemence, Captain Nathan Alt commanding. She wasn't all that far away, maybe half a billion k.

"She told us she couldn't respond. She said she was on an impossible vector, g-stress would kill her if she tried to turn hard enough to reach us in time."

A clutch of loss lifted his shoulders like a shrug. "She never did reach us. I probably should have died-that would have been simpler-but just when I was starting to run out of air, I was found by an illegal that came to scavenge before the hulk was picked clean by an authorized salvage. That's how I became illegal myself. The cops didn't respond. And my whole family was gone. I didn't have any reason to do anything else.

"When I got the chance a few years later," he finished softly, "I joined Nick."

Morn nodded, a blaze in her eyes. For the moment she'd forgotten Angus and corruption; forgotten Nick. Instead she seemed to feel all the anger Sib needed for himself and couldn't find. The cops didn't respond. She might have become a pirate herself under those conditions.

How many illegals were like Sib?-like Vector? How many of them had been driven to violence by the inadequacy or malfeasance of the organization she'd tried to serve? How much of the piracy which threatened humankind's survival against the Amnion had the cops themselves caused?

When was it going to stop? stop?

Then Davies interrupted her inward fuming. "Captain Nathan Alt," he muttered harshly. "I"-he glanced at her, caught himself-"you've heard of him."

He was right: the recollection came back to her as soon as he mentioned it. And it was important.

"I remember Captain Alt." Her voice shook until she controlled it. "By the time I went through the Academy, he'd become a legend. He was court-martialed because he didn't help a ship under attack in the Ma.s.sif-5 system.

"The story we heard"-it was part of a seemingly endless series of lectures on the duties and responsibilities of being a cop-"is that Min Donner hit him with every charge she could think of. His datacore confirmed he couldn't have changed course hard enough to reach that ship in time-not without damaging Vehemence Vehemence and maybe killing some of his own people. But Director Donner said he should have made the attempt anyway. Better yet, he should have antic.i.p.ated the situation. He'd received that ship's status reports-he knew she was being pushed toward a part of the system where she might get into trouble." and maybe killing some of his own people. But Director Donner said he should have made the attempt anyway. Better yet, he should have antic.i.p.ated the situation. He'd received that ship's status reports-he knew she was being pushed toward a part of the system where she might get into trouble."

Davies nodded once, hard, as if he shared the ED director's conviction.

"The court believed her," Morn finished. "He was stripped of his commission and drummed out of Enforcement Division."