One man who'd hurt her was bound; helpless.

The restrictions in Angus' datacore still held-and yet he was free to do what Morn asked of him. Warden Dios had given her that.

Her son and her friends had survived.

Vector knew the formula for an antimutagen.

And Soar Soar used to be called used to be called Gutbuster. Gutbuster.

Maybe Davies was right. Maybe it was time for other predators.

ANCILLARY.

DOc.u.mENTATION.

THE AMNION.

LANGUAGE AND.

INTELLIGENCE.

In dealing with the Amnion perhaps more than at any other time in humankind's history, language was the only available tool for understanding.

Communication was necessary for the negotiation of trade agreements, the determination of frontiers, and the resolution of disputes-what humankind called "diplomacy." For that reason, the Amnion had taught themselves to translate as much as they could of human speech, and had made their own speech accessible for humans to study. However, humankind knew virtually nothing about what lay behind that speech: it had no context.

This ignorance stretched across the whole spectrum of sentience. At one extreme, humankind had no idea how an Amnioni experienced sensory input. What gave an Amnioni physical pleasure? What const.i.tuted pain? How did the visual field appear? Were members of the species attracted to each other? And at the other, humankind had no information about Amnion culture. What relationship, if any, did individual Amnion have with their offspring? Did they in fact have offspring at all, or was every member of the species impersonally manufactured in some way? And did they produce art? Did their social structures provide for imaginative creation? If so, of what did it consist?

No one knew.

Language was the only tool humankind had to work with.

This was like using a pair of field gla.s.ses to study the wonders of the galaxy. The tool had neither the range nor the precision for the task.

Obstacles abounded, not least among them the fact that Amnion intraspecies communication did not rely exclusively on sound. The projection and manipulation of pheromones also played a significant part, as did-according to some theorists-light and color.

But precisely what part did pheromonic signals play? Were they a.n.a.logous to "body language" in humans-a more or less conscious form of posturing-or were they denotatively encoded? If the former, they were of secondary importance: translation could function without taking them into account. If the latter, however, they were essential to comprehension.

In addition, finding accurate approximations or a.n.a.logies for alien concepts was inherently difficult. Each species was hindered in its attempts at comprehension by the very limitations which enabled or enriched its own language. A case in point was the Amnion use of the word "defensives" to refer to "warships." Was "defensive" truly the best human word the Amnion could find to indicate the intended function of a warship? Did the Amnion perceive their own genetic imperialism as a form of "defense"? Or was the word merely an instance of the rhetorical legerdemain diplomats and politicians loved-an effort to make a threat appear benign through the manipulation of language?

Precision would have been useful in such matters. Instead it was impossible.

One of the most critical examples involved understanding the apparent lack of personal p.r.o.nouns in the Amnion language. When diplomats or other "decisive" figures spoke, they made no reference to themselves as individuals. They claimed no individual agendas, acknowledged no individual desires. Regardless of the scale of the issues under discussion, they either spoke for the Amnion or did not speak at all. Only human beings incompletely altered by mutagens used such words as "I," "me," and "my."

A corollary problem involved the apparent absence in Amnion speech of a number of abstract concepts much relied on by humankind, among them "good," "evil," "justice," "mercy," and "loyalty." It was theoretically possible, however, that such concepts did exist between Amnion, but could only be communicated by means of pheromones. The ideas themselves may have been considered too intimate or revealing for speech.

By contrast the use of personal p.r.o.nouns-at least in human terms-was at once so ordinary, so ubiquitous, and so practical that any language which didn't employ them seemed almost imponderably unwieldy and restrictive.

What did the lack of personal p.r.o.nouns imply about the nature of Amnion intelligence and thought patterns, or the character of Amnion ambitions?

These questions were urgent because Amnion genetic imperialism was taken as given. Knowledge of the enemy was a necessary weapon. If the Amnion couldn't be understood, how could they be defeated?

Efforts to account for the known characteristics of Amnion language revolved around one or the other of two distinct hypotheses, each with its own adherents and detractors, each with its own implications for humankind's dealings with forbidden s.p.a.ce.

One postulated what was sometimes called a "hive mind." Drawing a.n.a.logies from certain species of insects, this theory suggested that all Amnion partook of a communal intelligence which had its physical center or nexus, its "queen," somewhere deep in alien s.p.a.ce. Individual members or units of this mind had a separate corporeal being, but no separate thoughts or volition. Instead each was effectively a neuron or ganglion of the hive mind, transmitting data inward-and action outward.

Proponents of this theory used it to explain why the first human experiment with a mutagen had driven its host mad. As the woman who had volunteered for the experiment was transformed, she had lost her reason because distance-if nothing else-had cut the now-Amnioni off from her/its source of ident.i.ty and purpose. Under this hypothesis, great store was placed on reports that some humans had heard Amnion make reference to an ent.i.ty, construct, or concept called the "Mind/Union." What could this be, if it were not the "queen" of the "hive"-the center of intelligence and intention for the whole species?

If the hive mind theory was accurate, then the single most effective tactic humankind could use against the Amnion would be to locate and extirpate the "Mind/Union." Without its "queen," the entire species would collapse into its own kind of madness.

The opposing hypothesis was more insidious-and, in a sense, more frightful. Its proponents dismissed the "Mind/Union" as a corporeal ent.i.ty or nexus; rather they considered the term to be an abstract concept-the equivalent of words like "good" and "evil," which humans used to rationalize their actions. And they dismissed also the argument that the woman who had first accepted a mutagen had gone mad because of her separation from the "Mind/Union": they insisted instead that her madness had been a consequence of having her genetic ident.i.ty ripped away.

The opposing hypothesis held that the Amnion were driven, not by a collective intelligence or hive mind, but by the essential coding of the nucleotides which comprised their RNA. They had no humanlike abstract concepts for the same reason that they had no humanlike personal p.r.o.nouns: they needed none. Their imperialism was genetic in content as well as in form; in inspiration as well as in effect. Commandments a.n.a.logous to the human l.u.s.t for reproduction impelled their actions. They were unified and moved by impulses at once more profound, more global, and more imaginable than the directives of some impossibly distant-as well as impossibly h.o.m.ogeneous-"queen."

Adherents of the genetic imperative theory argued that no surgical strike anywhere in forbidden s.p.a.ce could have a meaningful impact on the threat which the Amnion presented. The motley and multifarious pageant of life in the galaxy would never be safe until every single Amnioni was stricken from existence.

HASHI.

Hashi Lebwohl considered the quantum mechanics of reality as he shuffled through the corridors of UMCPHQ toward the docks. Werner Heisenberg, that strange man, had named the truth decades ahead of his time when he'd postulated that the position and velocity of an electron couldn't be determined simultaneously. When one knew where a given particle was, one couldn't identify its movements. When one quantified its movements, one could no longer establish its location. Knowledge precluded knowledge: in some sense the effort to understand reality prevented comprehension. And yet without that effort humankind would never have known that electrons existed; that the macroverse depended for its predictable solidity on the indefinable activities of the microverse.

Hashi himself was a kind of atomic particle, transforming realities as he moved; bringing new facts to life and losing old as he slopped along in his untied shoes toward the berth where the Suka Bator shuttle waited.

The conceit pleased him. The UMCPDA director a.s.signed no moral valence to truth. Nevertheless he admired it enormously. To his eyes, the quirky yet seamless flux of facts and interpretations which defined reality was a process of surpa.s.sing beauty.

He was on his way to define certain truths, thereby causing others to become unknowable.

No one had asked him to ride Koina Hannish's PR shuttle down the gravity well to Earth in order to attend the next session of the Governing Council for Earth and s.p.a.ce. Protocol wasn't among his duties. Whatever happened when the GCES met in extraordinary session to consider Captain Vertigus' still-secret Bill of Severance, it was none of Hashi Lebwohl's business.

Similarly, Security on Suka Bator wasn't his concern. His mandate, levied onto his chagrined head by an openly angry Warden Dios, was to pursue the UMCP's investigation into the terrorist attacks which had killed G.o.dsen Frik and very nearly done the same to Captain Sixten Vertigus.

Such considerations didn't stop him. Regardless of the fact that his responsibilities were presumably elsewhere, he dug his id tag and other credentials out of his pockets, flapped them like a scarecrow's hands in the surprised faces of the dock guards, and talked himself aboard the poised craft as if he had a sovereign right to be there.

He was the UMCP's director of Data Acquisition; difficult to contradict. Certainly none of UMCPHQ Security's personnel were likely to refuse him. Instead they would consult with Director Dios. If Warden Dios disapproved of Hashi's actions, the guards could always decline to let him leave the shuttle.

He didn't think Warden would disapprove. Despite the unfortunate contract Hashi had given d.a.m.n Scroyle and Free Lunch Free Lunch, he guessed-or perhaps simply hoped-that Warden would continue to trust him a little longer.

Subatomic particles combined and recombined constantly to form new facts, new realities; new truths. Hashi intended to repay Warden's trust. If that required the DA director to put himself at risk, he accepted it.

Authorized or not, his attendance at the GCES session would be dangerous. Koina Hannish had relayed to him a warning from Captain Vertigus. Tell Director Lebwohl I'm afraid there's going to be another attack. Tell Director Lebwohl I'm afraid there's going to be another attack. The Captain's exact words, apparently. The Captain's exact words, apparently. During the next session. Tell him if he's ever been a real cop-if he cares at all about the integrity of the UMCP, or the rule of law in human s.p.a.ce-or even if he just wants to clear his reputation-he's got to keep kazes away from the hall. During the next session. Tell him if he's ever been a real cop-if he cares at all about the integrity of the UMCP, or the rule of law in human s.p.a.ce-or even if he just wants to clear his reputation-he's got to keep kazes away from the hall.

Hashi in turn had informed ED's Chief of Security, the man charged with the safety of the Council. Other people might have dismissed the warning as the frightened delusion of a senile old man: Hashi didn't. In his view, an opponent who deemed G.o.dsen Frik worth murdering was capable of anything.

But of course fulsome, futile G.o.dsen wouldn't have died if he'd obeyed the summons of the great worm; if Warden Dios hadn't restricted him to UMCPHQ in an apparent effort to protect him. A fascinating coincidence, full of implications and uncertainty. If one knew what events were, one couldn't tell where they were going. If one knew where they tended, one could no longer identify them.

Sixten Vertigus' warning was one reason Hashi had decided to attend the extraordinary session.

Another was that he wished to talk to Warden's new UMCPPR director, Koina Hannish.

As he stepped through the pa.s.senger hatch of the shuttle, he caught her attention. She'd been studying a sheaf of hardcopy-briefing doc.u.ments, no doubt, intended to prepare her for her first GCES session. Surprised, she looked up at him with her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Her instinctive grace didn't desert her, however: she may have been taken aback, but she wasn't-as dear, departed G.o.dsen might have said-"flummoxed." Her face showed nothing as Hashi offered himself the g-seat at her side, sprawled into it, and c.o.c.ked his head against his shoulder in order to regard her over his smeared gla.s.ses. Instead she smiled, using only the corners of her mouth.

"Director Lebwohl," she murmured, "you astonish me. Is this a social visit, or do you think"-she fluttered her sheaf of hardcopy wryly-"I haven't been adequately briefed? You'll have to be quick, I'm afraid." She glanced at the cabin chronometer. "We're scheduled to launch in two minutes."

In reply Hashi gave her his most amiable grin-the one which made him resemble a doting uncle, cheerful and slightly mad. "My dear Director Director Hannish"-he stressed her t.i.tle humorously-"I would not presume to Hannish"-he stressed her t.i.tle humorously-"I would not presume to brief brief you." This was a joke: it was often said of him that he did nothing briefly. "You understand your own duties far better than I. And I would not impose myself on you socially at such a time." you." This was a joke: it was often said of him that he did nothing briefly. "You understand your own duties far better than I. And I would not impose myself on you socially at such a time."

As if that were a sufficient explanation, he subsided.

An ED Security guard stood at the front of the cabin, looking across Hashi, Koina, and the other pa.s.sengers: two of Koina's aides, a Security communications tech, and Deputy Chief of Security Forrest Ing. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he said, "Director Lebwohl, you'd better belt yourself in. We've been cleared for launch as soon as the hatches are sealed."

Hashi blinked as if he found the admonition incomprehensible. But then he sighed in understanding and fumbled for the g-seat straps. When he was done, he smiled at Koina again.

"I have been haunting my lair in the bowels of UMCPHQ far too long. I forget the more mundane details of travel."

Koina's mouth had taken a more serious line. For a moment she considered Hashi gravely. Her tone was neutral, neither encouraging nor impatient, as she said, "I'm waiting, Hashi."

"Do not be concerned," he replied like a jocund gnome. "Your shuttle will surely depart at its appointed time."

As if on cue, the guard answered a signal by tapping on the hatch keypad; and at once the heavy door slid into its frame. With an audible thunk, the seals locked. The guard ran a quick safety check, then belted himself into his own g-seat.

A rumble of engine noise began to carry through the hull. It was too soon for the shuttle's drive. Some of the m.u.f.fled roar came from the dock's pa.s.sive launch projector-colloquially called "the pult"-which would slingshot the craft out into the dark. The rest was the throaty growl of the huge motors that opened the s.p.a.ce doors of the dock.

Against that background, the intercom crackled. "Launch in thirty seconds. Brace for two g acceleration."

Two? Hashi thought. My, my. There was no theoretical reason why the pult couldn't waft the craft outward so gently that the pressure would be impalpable. Koina Hannish was in a hurry.

Just for a moment he wondered whether he was healthy enough to withstand being slammed backward by a force equal to twice his own weight. Then he grinned. Too late to worry about that: far too late. As if he were dependent on them, he removed his gla.s.ses and cradled them in his fingers so that they wouldn't be ripped from his face.

Koina tightened her grip on her hardcopies when the throw of the pult hit. Other than that she showed no sign of discomfort.

Then it was over: the shuttle coasted free of UMCPHQ. Weightlessness took hold of Hashi's stomach, floating it against the back of his throat-a queasy sensation which would pa.s.s when the shuttle began to feel the tug of Earth's gravity well. He discovered that he'd been holding his breath. He let it out slowly. A mental damage inspection informed him that his systems appeared to be functioning as well as could be expected.

Settling his gla.s.ses back on the end of his nose, he returned his attention to the PR director.

She regarded him as if their conversation hadn't been interrupted. "I'm waiting," she explained evenly, "for you to tell me why you're here."

Hashi nodded his approval. The impenetrability of her mask pleased him. She was growing into her duties. In only a few days, her self-possession had become stronger. She was clearer, better focused. At this rate she would soon be worth a dozen G.o.dsen Friks.

"Well, then," he announced, "I will tell you. It is true"-ubiquitous word-"that I do bear with me a small fact or two which I wish to submit for your consideration. However, I am primarily 'here' "-he indicated his g-seat-"rather than ensconced elsewhere in the hope that you will brief brief me." me."

Koina c.o.c.ked a noncommittal eyebrow, but didn't reply.

"You see," he went on, "it is my intention to attend this unique as well as extraordinary session of our much-to-be-respected Governing Council for Earth and s.p.a.ce. It is conceivable that the esteemed Members will wish to question me." This was the smallest of Hashi's reasons for making the journey; but he didn't feel constrained to mention the others. It was common knowledge that Special Counsel Maxim Igensard had issued a standing and unconditional demand for the right to question Hashi Lebwohl further. "Naturally my responses will be more accurate-or perhaps I should say, more accurately tailored to UMCP policy-if they are intelligibly prepared. And I am certain, my dear Koina, that you will be able to prepare me intelligibly." After a barely perceptible pause, he added, "If you so choose."

Did Koina's forehead suggest a frown? He wasn't sure. He didn't have Warden Dios' special sight; couldn't read the play of tension in the muscles under her skin. Nevertheless there was no mistaking the tension in her next question.

"Does the director know you're doing this?"

The underlying issues were plain. Does he approve? she wanted to know. Did he send you?

"Alas, no," Hashi answered. His equanimity was untroubled. "For some time now he has been too busy to speak with me.

"That is to say," he amended, "I a.s.sume he has been too busy. It is unquestionable that his offices continue to perform their functions in their ordinary fashion. But does this necessarily imply that Warden Dios is busy? Perhaps not. I can only say with certainty that he has declined to speak with me."

All factual, as far as it went. Hashi had no intention of giving the PR director any cause to complain on that score.

"But you're going anyway?" she pursued.

"My dear Koina"-if his smile had been wired to a rheostat, he would have dialed it higher-"I did not rise to my present elevated position through reluctance to display initiative or accept responsibility."

She nodded slowly. No doubt she was aware of how inaccessible Warden had become recently. Since his most recent visit to Holt Fasner's Home Office, he'd been virtually incommunicado, dealing with DA, PR, and even ED almost entirely through subordinates. Hashi had the odd impression that Warden was hiding, keeping his anxieties private while he waited for some revelation or development which would clarify his dark game with-or against-the Dragon.

That impression reinforced Hashi's chagrin at the knowledge that his contract with Free Lunch Free Lunch had damaged Warden: chagrin both that he'd inadvertently done his director a disservice which he couldn't undo, and that he'd failed to grasp the complexity of Warden's game. By his own lights he'd always supported his director honorably. But Warden wanted Morn Hyland alive-even though Hashi had raised the possibility that she might be a kaze of more than one kind. had damaged Warden: chagrin both that he'd inadvertently done his director a disservice which he couldn't undo, and that he'd failed to grasp the complexity of Warden's game. By his own lights he'd always supported his director honorably. But Warden wanted Morn Hyland alive-even though Hashi had raised the possibility that she might be a kaze of more than one kind.

Hashi wasn't accustomed to thinking that any man's mind could see deeper or reach farther than his own. The idea disturbed him profoundly. He felt a gnawing need to prove in some way that he was equal to Warden's intentions.

That was the real reason he was here.

Koina knew nothing of his personal concerns, however. "Still," she mused, "I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to brief you further." That "further" was unnecessary-a subtle reference to the way she'd shared facts and secrets with him in the past. "If the director wanted you to attend this session, he would have briefed you himself."

Hashi fluttered his hands airily, as if her scruples cost him nothing. "My dear Koina, I trust your judgment explicitly. As evidence of my good faith, I will tell you my new little facts without what our so-lamented G.o.dsen would have called 'strings attached,' and you will decide freely whether to answer my questions in return."

She didn't insult him by saying, And you don't mind being overheard? By now she must have known him well enough to understand that he hadn't chosen this venue carelessly-although she might not have been able to guess why he now wanted to keep his dealings with her in some sense "public." Instead she murmured, "Fair enough," and waited for him to go on.

"Are you acquainted with Lane Harbinger?" he asked.

Koina shook her head. "I know the name. She's Malcolm Harbinger's granddaughter. But we haven't met."

"A shame," he remarked speciously. "You have much in common." But then he cautioned himself to restrain his sense of humor. Nervous, driven Lane was the PR director's near opposite-and he'd decided on a policy of factual accuracy. "However, that is of no moment. More to the point are her recent labors. In the name of Data Acquisition, she has been conducting a study of the physical evidence which we have obtained from the site of G.o.dsen's murder."

He sensed movement behind him. At the edge of his vision, he glimpsed Forrest Ing shifting to a closer g-seat in order to hear better. ED Security-bless Min Donner and all her blunt, diligent minions-hadn't found any physical evidence for themselves.

"A careful scrutiny," he continued without pausing, "of your former superior's former office uncovered a minute fragment of the kaze's id tag. More specifically, a minute fragment of the tag's SOD-CMOS chip." Are you able to eavesdrop adequately, Deputy Chief Ing? These details are contained in reports which DA Processing has already delivered to Enforcement Division. "Since then, it has been Lane's task to extract the data which surely remains intact in that portion of the chip.

"Are you interested in technical considerations?" he asked Koina solicitously. When she shook her head again, he promised, "Then I will be concise.

"Putting the matter simply, a CMOS chip changes state-or, in the case of a SOD-CMOS chip, adds state-when an appropriate signal is applied to its source and drain. In essence, the data is read back from the chip by reversing the process. Sadly a fragment as little" little"-he pinched the ends of his fingers together to suggest tinyness-"as this lacks such conveniences as its own source and drain. Deprived of all ordinary methods for reading the chip, Lane has been compelled to improvise.

"In the past few hours, my dear Koina, she has transcended herself. So that you will not be inundated by technical considerations, I will merely explain that she has devised means to bond our fragment to another, more accessible chip. By that contrivance she has been able to obtain the chip's contents."

Koina c.o.c.ked a delicate eyebrow to show her interest, but didn't interrupt. At his back, Hashi felt Forrest Ing's presence lean closer.

Smiling, he settled into his lecturer's mode.

"As you might surmise, those contents are as fragmentary as the chip itself. They are, however, provocative-one might almost say, extremely so.

"You are doubtless aware that we-the United Mining Companies Police-are humankind's only authorized supplier of SOD-CMOS chips. In addition, the UMCP and the Governing Council are humankind's only authorized consumers of such chips. All other use flows from one fount or the other. However, the actual manufacturer is a corporate ent.i.ty curiously named Anodyne Systems. You may also be aware that Anodyne Systems is a wholly owned subsidiary of the United Mining Companies."