In the galley and the pa.s.sage, the scrubbers strained to clean gouts and streamers of drifting vomit from the air, but they hadn't succeeded yet. The pads would have to be replaced soon, or Trumpet's Trumpet's air would start to go bad. air would start to go bad.

"What happened-?" Davies' voice caught as the stink and his own pain made him gag. "What happened to him?"

"Stun," Mikka retorted shortly. "Nick took that prod away from Ciro. If it were any bigger-if it delivered more charge-he would be dead. Ciro, too.

"Can you move? If you get out of my way, I'll pick him up."

Davies wanted to snort, Move? Sure. I can probably get as far as sickbay. If you and G.o.d help me. But he didn't have the strength for it. And she didn't deserve his bitterness- Where had she been when Nick and then Angus attacked Morn?

Where were they now?

What the h.e.l.l was going on?

Gritting his teeth despite the pain in his head, Davies struggled to bring the rest of his mind into focus.

"You said-" He tried to remember what Mikka had said. "We've been ordered to the bridge." He swallowed a lump of anger. "Says who?"

"Says Nick." She had too much bitterness of her own: she wouldn't have noticed Davies'. "He's taken over. Apparently Angus has secrets he hasn't bothered to explain. Like why he suddenly lets Nick give him orders. Or how he did that." With his peripheral vision, Davies saw her point at the slagged handgun bobbing above the foodvends.

"Or," she finished, "how he got to be so strong."

Snagged by the timbre of despair in her tone, Davies turned against his pain until he could look at her.

The sight made him flinch and cough as if he'd driven a rib into one of his lungs.

She'd been hit, all right-hit hard. hard. Glints of bone showed through the pulp above her right eye. That eye had already swollen shut, but the wound hadn't stopped bleeding yet. Seeping from the red-black mess of her forehead, a wet sheen covered the whole right side of her face. Her skull must have been a ma.s.s of fractures. Glints of bone showed through the pulp above her right eye. That eye had already swollen shut, but the wound hadn't stopped bleeding yet. Seeping from the red-black mess of her forehead, a wet sheen covered the whole right side of her face. Her skull must have been a ma.s.s of fractures.

She needed sickbay more than he did. She had a concussion: in all likelihood she was already on her way into shock. And there must have been bleeding inside the bone. If she developed a cerebral hematoma, she could die.

"f.u.c.k the bridge," he told her. Coughing hurt, but he could bear it. It wasn't as bad as the danger she was in. "You need treatment. Go to sickbay. I'll get myself there in a minute."

And Sib, too. He might have swallowed some of his vomit; might be dying- She shook her head. "You don't understand." She sounded bleak and beaten, lost in a void of dismay. "Nick ordered us to the bridge. Right now. No matter what condition we're in." In a tight voice, as if she could hardly force up words, she explained, "He's got Morn."

Davies flung a look like a cry at her.

She replied with a small shrug. "We're finished. Even Vector is hurt. She's the only one of us who isn't either bleeding or unconscious"-Davies could see her brother in Mikka's eyes, somewhere beyond help-"and I think she's gone into hysterics."

"Then she needs me." A rush of serotonin and noradrenaline cleared his brain; he didn't hesitate. He's got Morn. He's got Morn. His right arm was useless. Shifting so that he could reach the cleats with his left, he undipped his belt from the stool. His right arm was useless. Shifting so that he could reach the cleats with his left, he undipped his belt from the stool. I think she's gone into hysterics. I think she's gone into hysterics.

Almost at once weightlessness seemed to ease the pain in his arm. With his ribs twisting against each other, he kicked his way out of the galley and headed for the bridge.

Despite the pressure inside him, he moved carefully, protecting his injuries. Zero-g grips along the walls helped him control his drift until he reached the companionway. There he caught one of the handrails and paused to scan the bridge.

Nick sat at the command station, grinning like a skull; he flashed his teeth and his dark scars at Davies as if they were pennons. Angus had taken the second's g-seat: he sat motionless, all his muscles locked down; he didn't turn his head to glance at his son. Belted to the stool in front of the auxiliary engineering console, Vector hunched forward as if he were in danger of fainting. He'd opened his shipsuit and pulled it off his shoulders so that he could wrap his right hand in one of the sleeves. Blood soaked the fabric. Pale in the flat white light of the bridge, his bare skin looked flaccid, almost lifeless.

None of them seemed to feel the slightest interest in helping Morn.

She floated near the ceiling, bobbing gently against the metal, with her face hidden between her knees, and her arms clamped around her shins. The strain with which she clung to herself was palpable. She'd made herself small because she had no other protection: all her defenses and hopes were gone.

For a moment Davies couldn't move. He could only stare up at her, dismay throbbing through him, while he thought, as distinct as a jolt of stun, That's not hysterics. That's insanity. She's snapped.

Nick must have taken her zone implant control. Feeling his power over her again must have been more than she could bear.

It was more than Davies could bear. Forgetting his broken arm and snapped ribs, his cracked head, he dove off from the companionway; aimed himself with all his strength at Nick.

Angus stopped him.

Davies didn't see how it happened. Angus must not have been belted down; must have turned his head in time to spot Davies' movement. Before Davies reached Nick, Angus collided with him, knocked him off course.

For an instant his brain went blank at the impact on his arm and ribs. Red flushed across his vision. By the time his sight cleared, Angus was behind him, holding him with one forearm like a steel bar across his throat.

"Stop it!" Angus grated in his ear. "You've lost-there's nothing you can do. Don't make me hurt you again."

"He's my bodyguard," Nick remarked to Davies. "n.o.body comes at me until they get past him. Offhand I would say he's pretty d.a.m.n good at his job."

Angus and Davies. .h.i.t the bulkhead, rebounded toward the display screens. One more impact made no difference to Davies: he could hardly feel it. But it shifted Angus' position behind him.

A good squeeze would be enough to crush Davies' windpipe. Anybody could have done it: it didn't require Angus' strange strength. Davies was already choking. His broken bones cut inside him like knives. Nevertheless he focused his whole life in the blow as he slammed his left elbow into Angus' belly.

Angus absorbed it with a low grunt; his grip on Davies' throat held tight. Perfectly in control, he snagged the toe of one boot on the back of Nick's g-seat, slowing his momentum and turning himself in the air so that he struck the screen softly, cushioned Davies' body with his own.

"Stop it," he repeated. "At least find out what's going on before you give Nick an excuse to kill you." Then, as if he knew what Davies needed to hear, he hissed, "Vector broke her zone implant control. That's how he tore up his hand." it," he repeated. "At least find out what's going on before you give Nick an excuse to kill you." Then, as if he knew what Davies needed to hear, he hissed, "Vector broke her zone implant control. That's how he tore up his hand."

Davies discovered that he wasn't breathing. Broke-? As he and Angus recoiled slowly from the screen, he looked at Vector.

Vector met his gaze and nodded.

Broke her zone implant control.

Davies went limp as the worst of his fears drained away.

Until he remembered that Angus knew how to program a parallel control into his board.

"I wish you hadn't told him that," Nick drawled laconically. "I like seeing him upset. It would have been fun to let him go on thinking I could force her to tear his b.a.l.l.s off for me."

"Then make your f.u.c.king orders more f.u.c.king explicit!" Angus shot back. He sounded enraged; almost frantic. Davies could feel his muscles shivering with hindered violence. "If you don't tell tell me to do it, it won't me to do it, it won't get done!" get done!"

Nick grinned at Angus' anger. "That's OK," he retorted. "I like seeing you you upset, too." upset, too."

Davies seemed to feel tremors run through Angus; neurons misfiring like a suppressed storm. He didn't care, however. He looked at Morn, waiting for Angus to let him go. He still couldn't see her face: she was clamped too tightly around herself. But he could take her in his good arm, hug her against him: she might be able to feel that. If he spoke to her, she might hear- "Stay away from her," Nick told him sharply. "Looks like she's gone autistic on us, doesn't it. Well, let her. I don't want you to make the mistake of thinking you can comfort her. It won't save her."

Davies couldn't stifle his rage, even for Morn's sake. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! She needs help!"

"Help?" Nick snorted at once. "You're an optimist, you know that, you little s.h.i.t? In case you haven't figured it out, we've got an addict on our hands. She didn't crack like that because I I got her f.u.c.king control. She cracked because Vector broke it, and she can't live without it. got her f.u.c.king control. She cracked because Vector broke it, and she can't live without it.

"Well, now she's in real real trouble. When we reach Ma.s.sif-5, we'll have to be ready for hard g all the way to the Lab. That means she has to be ready for gap-sickness. If she isn't catted out of her mind, she'll spend the whole trip trying to kill all of us. You couldn't help her if I wanted you to. trouble. When we reach Ma.s.sif-5, we'll have to be ready for hard g all the way to the Lab. That means she has to be ready for gap-sickness. If she isn't catted out of her mind, she'll spend the whole trip trying to kill all of us. You couldn't help her if I wanted you to.

"Which I don't. I'm going to make her pay blood blood for every lie she ever told me. This is just the beginning. for every lie she ever told me. This is just the beginning.

"If you go anywhere near her, Angus will break your other arm for you. You got that?"

Davies swallowed curses; swallowed bile and blood and pain. Nick was right, of course. Morn's gap-sickness would make Valdor's system a personal h.e.l.l. Without her zone implant she had no defense except drugs against a madness which her son could remember as if it were his.

Aboard Bright Beauty Bright Beauty she'd told Angus about it. she'd told Angus about it.

I could see you on the screens. But I didn't care. The whole inside of my head was different.

I was floating, and everything was clear. Like a vision. It was like the universe spoke to me. I got the message, the truth. I knew exactly what to do. What I had to do. I didn't question it.

Then she'd keyed the self-destruct sequence into her board on Starmaster's Starmaster's auxiliary bridge. auxiliary bridge.

From that crisis-from the undetectable flaw which the gap had found in her brain, a weakness triggered by heavy g-all her sufferings had followed as if they were inevitable.

Nevertheless Davies felt a keen frisson of hope as soon as he heard Nick mention cat.

Nick thought she needed drugs. He didn't know it was possible to rig a parallel zone implant control to replace her black box. He hadn't discovered that fact for himself.

And Angus hadn't told him.

In surprise Davies wrenched his head to the side so that he could stare at his father.

Angus confronted Nick as if he were waiting for new orders. Still Davies could see his face- Davies hadn't looked when Angus had attacked him in the galley; hadn't had a chance. Now for the first time he saw the black anguish which congested Angus' face, the yellow murder in his eyes. Despite the steadiness of his movements, the poise of his posture, he appeared frantic and homicidal, as if he were crazier than Morn; as if he'd already been driven completely and irremediably insane.

He took orders from Nick. But he hated them.

Davies understood none of it. Nevertheless his heart leaped. Nick didn't know it was possible to program a parallel zone implant control, so he couldn't order Angus to do it for him.

If you don't tell tell me to do it, it won't me to do it, it won't get done! get done!

Morn, did you hear that? Do you know what it means?

Giddy with relief, Davies nodded to Nick. "All right," he croaked. "I don't want to make it worse for her."

Nick studied him for a moment, then shrugged at Angus.

With a twitch like a spasm of revulsion, Angus let his son go.

At once Davies kicked away toward Vector and the auxiliary engineering console. While Angus returned to the second's station, Davies anch.o.r.ed himself by bracing one knee under the console so that he could keep his good arm free. Glowering to conceal his relief, he ma.s.saged his aching throat.

When Vector glanced at him, he nodded once, thanking the engineer for several things simultaneously.

Morn floated above him in a clenched, fetal ball, as unreachable as if she were on the other side of the dimensional gap. He left her there for the same reason that she'd once let Nick give him back to the Amnion: because he had no choice. And because he didn't want to risk betraying his hope.

"You're obviously in command," he rasped to Nick. "If Angus takes your orders, the rest of us can't fight you."

Nick grinned or grimaced as if his scars were on fire. "That's f.u.c.king right."

"But you don't need me here," Davies went on stubbornly. "I should be in sickbay. It won't cost you anything to let me go."

"Tough s.h.i.t," Nick snapped back. "I don't care how much any of you hurt. In fact, I want want you to hurt. It's a small price to pay for what you've done to me. So you're going to stay here and"-he broke into a shout- you to hurt. It's a small price to pay for what you've done to me. So you're going to stay here and"-he broke into a shout-"pay it until I'm done with you!" until I'm done with you!"

Angus swallowed as if he were having trouble breathing.

Almost immediately, however, Nick relaxed again. "Who knows? You may find it interesting.

"Where the f.u.c.k is everybody else?"

"We're here," Mikka said from the head of the companionway.

Her voice sounded painfully thin, as if she were close to collapse. As she bled, the damage to her forehead looked worse. Yet she managed to support both Sib and Ciro, one on each side of her. They were conscious, pallid with strain; but they couldn't control their bodies well. Small jerks and twitches shook them as if their nerves were still under attack.

"We're following orders," she murmured defensively. "It's hard for people to move after they've had that much stun."

"Really?" Nick sneered. "I had no idea." Then he added, "Get down here before I ask Angus to do a little surgery on your internal organs."

Like a kid about to cry, Ciro buried his face in Mikka's shoulder. Sib may have wanted to do the same, but he fought the impulse. Instead he flopped an arm onto the railing and used it to help Mikka propel the three of them to a handgrip across the bridge from the auxiliary engineering console.

Slowly they settled to the deck. Still twitching, Sib separated himself from Mikka to find another grip, leaving her to hold her brother alone.

"Good." Nick relaxed in his g-seat, at home and una.s.sailable at the command station. "Now we can get started."

Deliberately Mikka turned away from him. Across the length of the screens, she asked Vector, "What happened to you?"

"He broke Morn's zone implant control," Angus put in before Vector could reply; before Nick could stop him. "Smashed it-cut up his hand. He-"

"Angus, shut up," Nick snarled quickly. "Don't say anything. If I want you to talk, I'll ask you a question."

At once Angus' jaws locked together as if they'd been wired closed. Murderous and thwarted, his eyes ached like wounds.

"G.o.d, Vector," Mikka breathed. She made no effort to conceal her relief. "You're a genius. I should have thought of that myself."

Vector gave her a crooked gray smile like a line drawn in a sheet of ash.

Grinning again, Nick drawled, "No, Mikka. You've got it wrong as usual. You should stop talking and listen. I'm about to explain the facts of life to you mindless, mutinous s.h.i.ts, and this is your only chance to understand them."

"Fine," Mikka shot back at him. "You do that." She might have been taunting him, trying to provoke him into an attack. Despite her bleeding face and her weakness, she held his gaze. "Let's see if the 'facts' make you look as good as you think."

For a moment Nick tightened as if he meant to spring at her. But then he eased back against the cushions. His eyes glittered with ominous restraint.

"Angus, if she says another word-any word at all-I want you to use that little laser of yours on her. Cut off one of her fingers. If she screams or swears or even groans, cut off another finger. Cut them off one at a time until she learns how to keep her mouth shut."

Ciro wrenched his head away from Mikka's shoulder, turned his face toward Nick. His eyes were aghast; white with horror.

Involuntarily Sib hunched over his stomach, trying to vomit again; but he had nothing left to bring up.

Overhead Morn floated motionless, lost in fear and desolation.

"Don't push him, Mikka," Davies warned urgently. "He means it. And Angus will do it."