"However, the successful transfer of mind between Davies Hyland and his source demonstrates that our techniques may indeed operate effectively on human genetic material. If a human female with a zone implant can endure a transfer of mind to a force-grown offspring without loss of reason or function-and if the condition of that offspring is also truly functional-then the same procedure may prove viable between human and Amnioni.

"In that case, we will become able to produce Amnion with access to learned human thoughts and behaviors. If those Amnion are grown in human shapes, they will be undetectable to humans. Then human s.p.a.ce could be seeded with hosts of Amnion, and the overthrow of Earth-bred life could be accomplished at one stroke.

"Thus the capture of Davies Hyland is critical. A study of his physical and mental integrity can supply the information we require. His value is only increased by the fact that he also possesses the mind of a United Mining Companies Police ensign."

Sorus' brain reeled involuntarily at the idea. He was talking about genetic kazes: undetectable terrorists who could plant mutagens wherever and whenever they wished- Taverner wasn't done, however. "The matter of loss," he continued inexorably, "centers on the cyborg Angus Thermopyle and Captain Nick Succorso.

"The cyborg has done us severe harm in destroying Billingate, and must not be permitted to, return to the United Mining Companies Police victorious. We must demonstrate our capacity to counter his actions. This is significant, but not critical. In addition we have cause to suspect that the harm for which he was designed is not yet complete. Therefore also he must be stopped. Finally we wish to study him so that we may learn the techniques of his construction. These considerations as well are significant, but not critical.

"Captain Nick Succorso is critical. He possesses a drug which renders him immune to us. This would be a grave threat even if we did not have cause to suspect that the United Mining Companies Police are involved in the uses he has made of that drug. It is imperative that he is not permitted to disseminate his immunity in human s.p.a.ce. If humans can be preserved from mutation, they will be able to wage warfare of a kind which must defeat us. In a raw test of technological resources, we will fail. Our means of production are too precise, time-consuming, and costly to compete with yours.

"Yet that is not the sum of the threat which Captain Succorso represents. By some means which we do not understand-perhaps by what you term 'intuition'-he has acquired knowledge of our researches into the use of uniquely designed gap drives to produce s.p.a.ce-normal velocities which very nearly approximate the speed of light. If our defensives could attain those velocities, our prospects in warfare would be greatly improved."

With an effort, Sorus kept her expression blank; but inwardly she gave a groan of surprise. "Greatly improved" was a stunning understatement. If a battlewagon like Calm Horizons Calm Horizons could be accelerated to .9c or more, no human station could stand against her. Even Earth might have no adequate defense. could be accelerated to .9c or more, no human station could stand against her. Even Earth might have no adequate defense.

Without pausing, Taverner concluded, "Captain Succorso must not be permitted to convey his knowledge to the United Mining Companies Police. We fear that human s.p.a.ce would have no choice but to engage us in warfare immediately, if only to prevent us from completing our researches.

"Do you understand now, Captain Chatelaine?"

She nodded slowly, dumbly. Oh, she understood, all right. She hated her role, but she understood it. If she'd been the "decisive" of Calm Horizons Calm Horizons-or even the Mind/Union itself-she would have made the same choice. The stakes were high enough to justify risks on almost any scale.

Yet she couldn't let the question rest there. Some streak of stubbornness in her, some mute, unsubjugated piece of her genetic inheritance, pushed her to raise one more objection.

"I understand fine, but I'm not sure you do. You can talk all you want, but you've already missed your chance to take the only action that would have made a difference. You let Trumpet Trumpet get away. And since then too much time has pa.s.sed. What good will it do to send me after her now? get away. And since then too much time has pa.s.sed. What good will it do to send me after her now?

"The cops'll be waiting for her to come back-with a whole fleet, if they think they need it. Even if I could catch her before she reaches them-which I can't-I couldn't stop her from transmitting any messages she wants. And if you're right that Succorso is working for the cops, they already know about his immunity drug. They probably gave it to him. Nothing I do can possibly prevent them from spreading that information.

"Sending me into human s.p.a.ce to get shot by a fleet of d.a.m.n cops is going to accomplish zip."

The human side of Vestabule's face frowned as if he were unsure of her slang. Again he and Taverner glanced expression-lessly at each other before Taverner replied.

"The question of Captain Succorso's immunity is not a simple one. I"-for a minute he hung fire, as if his memory had slipped-"I have been the deputy chief of Com-Mine Station Security. If an immunity drug were known anywhere in human s.p.a.ce, that knowledge would surely have come to me. a.s.sume that this immunity is a devising of the United Mining Companies Police, and that Captain Succorso received it from them. Still it has not been disseminated. In my"-again he faltered briefly-"my experience, no knowledge or record of such an immunity exists. Therefore we must also a.s.sume that the United Mining Companies Police have chosen to suppress this immunity.

"I-" Taverner stopped. To her surprise, Sorus saw that he was in distress. The effort of thinking like a human drew sweat from his pores, turned his pale skin the color of bone.

"I speculate," he resumed in a thin, slightly hurried tone, "that some intraspecies betrayal which I find difficult to comprehend is taking place. One faction has developed this immunity, and now holds it secret from the other in order to gain advantage. I find the concept abhorrent, but I remember that such explanations are plausible among humans."

"We do not understand human behavior in this matter," Vestabule put in roughly. "We wish to understand it. But for the present understanding is not critical. Rather it is critical that knowledge of this immunity has not yet been disseminated in human s.p.a.ce, and presumably will not be disseminated unless Captain Succorso takes that action upon himself.

"As for your concern that Trumpet Trumpet has fled to the haven of 'a fleet of d.a.m.n cops,' consider this. has fled to the haven of 'a fleet of d.a.m.n cops,' consider this.

"Our a.n.a.lysis of Trumpet's Trumpet's departure emissions is complete. We have determined her gap vector, calculated her velocity and acceleration, and estimated her gap drive parameters. Here are the results." departure emissions is complete. We have determined her gap vector, calculated her velocity and acceleration, and estimated her gap drive parameters. Here are the results."

Without waiting for permission, he reached forward and began tapping keys on the communications board. Almost immediately one of the main screens in front of Sorus flashed to life.

Vestabule had called up a 3-D coordinates schematic for this quadrant of s.p.a.ce. Phosphors marked the spot where Thanatos Minor had once occupied the vacuum. Soar' Soar's position blinked green;; Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' showed amber. showed amber.

Swiftly a red line traced Trumpet' Trumpet's course in normal s.p.a.ce: numbers along the line indicated exact changes in thrust and vector. Then a small crimson cross indicated her leap into the gap.

Based on Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' calculations, straight blue pointed the direction of calculations, straight blue pointed the direction of Trumpet's Trumpet's crossing. The Amnion warship could only speculate as to how far crossing. The Amnion warship could only speculate as to how far Trumpet Trumpet had gone, but she was able to define the gap scout's course precisely. had gone, but she was able to define the gap scout's course precisely.

That blue line didn't run anywhere near human s.p.a.ce.

Sorus had used up her objections. Now she had nothing left except obedience-and darkness.

Deliberately she thumbed the ship-wide intercom.

"Stand by," she told her crew. "We've got our work cut out for us. First we'll rendezvous with Calm Horizons. Calm Horizons. Then we're going hunting." Then we're going hunting."

Wherever Angus Thermopyle and his people were headed, it wasn't back to the UMCP.

ANGUS.

Trumpet came out of the gap with Nick Succorso at the helm and Angus Thermopyle handling everything else scarcely 500,000 kilometers from Thanatos Minor-still within easy scan range. came out of the gap with Nick Succorso at the helm and Angus Thermopyle handling everything else scarcely 500,000 kilometers from Thanatos Minor-still within easy scan range.

Proximity alarms echoed the warnings of Angus' datacore and the raw squalling of his own instincts. Trumpet Trumpet's thrust drive still burned, piling on acceleration. Nevertheless the instantaneous disappearance of brisance from the planetoid's destruction affected the ship like braking; slammed him and Nick forward helplessly against their restraints. From a hand's width away, he gaped at his command readouts, but his eyes couldn't absorb their information rapidly enough.

His own calculations were quicker.

Trumpet wasn't moving fast enough to outrun Thanatos Minor's debris. wasn't moving fast enough to outrun Thanatos Minor's debris.

"Too close!" he rasped urgently. "Hit it again, Nick! You cut it too close!"

Nick sprawled across the second's station. His eyes were glazed; his hands fumbled for a grip they couldn't find on the sides of his board. He'd been hurt too much: Angus had punched him in the forehead hard enough to crack his skull; Ciro had jolted him with stun; his ship and most of his crew were dead. Lashed by g, he'd gone limp-too limp to react.

Angus' brain and his computer ran decisions at microprocessor speeds, but on separate tracks. Driven by preprogrammed exigencies, his ringers punched keys like scattershot, routing helm control back to his station, adjusting thrust for more power than Nick had known Trumpet Trumpet possessed, defining gap parameters for human s.p.a.ce. At the same time, his brain scrambled to identify his exact location, gauge it against the possibility of pursuit. According to his most recent data-only seconds old-neither possessed, defining gap parameters for human s.p.a.ce. At the same time, his brain scrambled to identify his exact location, gauge it against the possibility of pursuit. According to his most recent data-only seconds old-neither Soar Soar nor nor Calm Horizons Calm Horizons had picked up enough velocity to attempt a gap crossing. And certainly not in this direction. But had picked up enough velocity to attempt a gap crossing. And certainly not in this direction. But Stonemason Stonemason and some of the other ships from Billingate were another matter. Milos must have told the Amnion why Angus had been sent to Thanatos Minor. If the Amnion had told the Bill somehow-if the Bill had flared out a warning- and some of the other ships from Billingate were another matter. Milos must have told the Amnion why Angus had been sent to Thanatos Minor. If the Amnion had told the Bill somehow-if the Bill had flared out a warning- They would know where to look for the gap scout.

Cued by his urgency, perhaps, or by some other in-built lat.i.tude, his datacore let Angus reset the gap parameters and throw Trumpet Trumpet into another brutal course shift. into another brutal course shift.

Klaxons wailed like the d.a.m.ned. Millions of tons of shattered rock hurtled closer, hot on the heels of the wave front. The displays plotted both brisance and stone as they scoured the void like furies: the ragged teeth of nightmares.

For half a dozen seconds, the gap scout hauled herself to the side so hard that only his zone implants kept Angus from pa.s.sing out.

Nick collapsed against his restraints, unconscious. But welded reinforcements gave Angus the strength to endure. Trumpet Trumpet was still turning-still broadside to the storm of Thanatos Minor's ruin-when he reached out against a weight of six or more g's and tapped the key which sent the gap scout into tach. was still turning-still broadside to the storm of Thanatos Minor's ruin-when he reached out against a weight of six or more g's and tapped the key which sent the gap scout into tach.

The violence which had riven the planetoid didn't touch her.

Instead, with a disorienting lack of transition, she found herself perilously far down the gravity well of a red giant nearly three light-years deep in Amnion s.p.a.ce.

Moving too quickly for caution, Angus hadn't consulted astrogation-except by an almost autonomic reference to his internal databases-or made any attempt at precision; he'd simply pointed Trumpet Trumpet at the nearest loud star he knew of and kicked her into the gap. at the nearest loud star he knew of and kicked her into the gap.

Luck and a near-miraculous synergy between his organic mind and his machine reflexes brought him close without killing him.

A red giant was exactly what he wanted: relatively low in ma.s.s, so that he could get nearer to it than to a heavier star; and relatively high in luminosity as well as other radiation, so that it might cover Trumpet's Trumpet's trail. He hoped that brisance and debris would confuse the traces of his maneuvering near Thanatos Minor, prevent other ships from seeing where he'd gone. And if that didn't work, he hoped that a star as loud as this one would make trail. He hoped that brisance and debris would confuse the traces of his maneuvering near Thanatos Minor, prevent other ships from seeing where he'd gone. And if that didn't work, he hoped that a star as loud as this one would make Trumpet Trumpet impossible to detect. impossible to detect.

The gap scout was still accelerating at full burn, ramming herself down the gravity well at a frightening rate. Minutes away, immolation loomed ahead of her. Despite his zone implants and enhanced strength, Angus was giddy with g-stress. Phosphors seemed to dance across his board, disabling the readouts; the tidal pressure of his pulse in his ears made the new alarms which the ship flung at him sound m.u.f.fled and imprecise, vaguely meaningless.

But now his visceral fear and his computer's programming worked together. One centimeter at a time, they forced his hand forward until his fingers found the keys which would ease Trumpet's Trumpet's thrust and turn her aside from danger in a long curve across the pull of the well. thrust and turn her aside from danger in a long curve across the pull of the well.

Then he was able to breathe again.

Sweet oxygen filled his lungs as the pressing weight of his body lifted. Relief spread a brief red haze across his vision, then wiped it clear. At the first touch of acceleration, automatic systems had locked the bridge in its thrust att.i.tude, retracted the companionway. Now, as Angus stabilized Trumpet's Trumpet's position in the red giant's well, the orientation bearings unlocked, allowing the bridge to revolve within its hulls to accommodate the star's gravity. His back and legs settled more comfortably into his g-seat. position in the red giant's well, the orientation bearings unlocked, allowing the bridge to revolve within its hulls to accommodate the star's gravity. His back and legs settled more comfortably into his g-seat.

Nick folded slowly over his belts and remained limp, breathing through his mouth.

A few more helm adjustments, and Angus would be able to relax. His computer ran calculations: his hands ran commands. When he was done, Trumpet Trumpet had attained an elliptical orbit which would carry her around the star, absorbing gravity as momentum, and then enable her to slingshot herself back in the direction of human s.p.a.ce at several times her present velocity. Fast enough for a gap crossing which would take her three or four light-years past the Amnion frontier. had attained an elliptical orbit which would carry her around the star, absorbing gravity as momentum, and then enable her to slingshot herself back in the direction of human s.p.a.ce at several times her present velocity. Fast enough for a gap crossing which would take her three or four light-years past the Amnion frontier.

There. Angus sucked air deep enough to distend his belly and held it until the CO2 balance in his lungs had slowed his heart rate a few beats. G.o.d, he was thirsty! Thanks to Milos' abuse, and to the dehydration he'd suffered in his EVA suit, his mouth and throat felt like they'd been scoured with abrasives. A grainy sensation afflicted his eyeb.a.l.l.s, as if they turned in grit. He was hungry and tired, and there was nothing he wanted right then more than a chance to check on Morn, find out if she was all right; touch her as if she still belonged to him. balance in his lungs had slowed his heart rate a few beats. G.o.d, he was thirsty! Thanks to Milos' abuse, and to the dehydration he'd suffered in his EVA suit, his mouth and throat felt like they'd been scoured with abrasives. A grainy sensation afflicted his eyeb.a.l.l.s, as if they turned in grit. He was hungry and tired, and there was nothing he wanted right then more than a chance to check on Morn, find out if she was all right; touch her as if she still belonged to him.

His datacore had already allowed or coerced him to do several things he hadn't expected. Maybe it would permit that as well.

Except that she had her zone implant control now. Or rather Davies did: it came to the same thing. Neither of them was likely to let him within ten meters of her. Not without force-and Angus didn't believe for a second that his datacore would let him force himself on Morn Hyland. Warden Dios hadn't gone to all this trouble to rescue her-and to keep it a secret, for G.o.d's sake-just so that Angus could ease the dark ache in the pit of his heart.

Slowly he stretched out the muscles in his back and arms, then returned his attention to his board.

Trumpet's course was stable. The red giant spat out so much radiation that he could hardly scan her trace himself, even though he knew where to look. And within an hour the star's tremendous bulk would eclipse her from the direction of Thanatos Minor: she would be safe from pursuit or detection until she rounded the giant's far side. course was stable. The red giant spat out so much radiation that he could hardly scan her trace himself, even though he knew where to look. And within an hour the star's tremendous bulk would eclipse her from the direction of Thanatos Minor: she would be safe from pursuit or detection until she rounded the giant's far side.

If he couldn't approach Morn, he could at least drink several liters of fluid and get himself something to eat. Nick could be left where he was. He appeared to be asleep, overcome by the combined pressure of loss and g. And if he woke up, he couldn't do any harm. It was a simple matter for Angus to disable both bridge stations with his own priority-codes, which would effectively frustrate any tampering or interference.

He'd unstrapped his restraints and started to his feet before he realized that he didn't understand what he'd just done.

Wait a minute. He sat down again in shock. Wait a f.u.c.king minute.

What the h.e.l.l are we doing here! here!

At that moment Nick stirred. Twitching, his hands found the edges of the second's station; he braced his arms there to push himself upright. His eyes were dull with stupor. He blinked them deliberately, trying to clear them. His mouth hung open. Through the grime on his cheeks, his scars showed like small strips of bone.

By degrees a frown tightened his face as he blinked at his readouts.

He checked the screens in front of him, considered his readouts again. Unsteadily he tapped two or three keys. Then he turned his sturmed gaze toward Angus.

As if he and Angus had the same thoughts for the same reasons, he asked, "What the h.e.l.l are we doing here here?"

"Hiding," Angus retorted. "What does it look like?" He had no idea what the truth was. Appalled by chagrin and incomprehension, he couldn't think. In a few instants of gap travel, a few minutes of mad flight, everything had changed. Suddenly his predicament was profoundly altered, as profoundly as it had been by his datacore's unexpected decision to rescue Morn, or by hearing Warden Dios say, It's got to stop; It's got to stop; by his discovery of Morn herself aboard by his discovery of Morn herself aboard Starmaster Starmaster, or by UMCPDA's req. Once again nothing made any sense, he had to start learning the rules and guessing the limits from the beginning- "'Hiding.'" Nick made an obvious effort to sound sarcastic, but he couldn't raise his voice above a thin mutter. "Who the f.u.c.k are we hiding from from? I didn't bring us here. I must have pa.s.sed out-you took the helm. Christ! Angus, we're three f.u.c.king light-years inside Amnion s.p.a.ce. If you could generate that kind of gap crossing, why didn't you head the other way? Solve all your problems at once, let f.u.c.king Hashi Lebwohl welcome you with open f.u.c.king arms. What kind of s.h.i.t is is this?" this?"

Good question. Angus would have said that aloud, if his programming had permitted it. UMCPDA had welded him precisely and explicitly for this mission. Either Hashi Lebwohl or Warden Dios had made every crucial decision. So what was Angus doing here here? Why had his datacore led him to take this course, when it could have, should have, forced him to leap for human s.p.a.ce?

"Calm Horizons was after us," he suggested weakly. was after us," he suggested weakly.

"And you thought she would follow us past the frontier?" Nick did his best to sneer. "Commit an act of war right in the cops' face? So what? She couldn't have caught us. We had momentum on her, we had a vector she couldn't match. And we've got"-he clicked keys, peered at a readout for confirmation, then hissed softly through his teeth in surprise-"s.h.i.t, Angus, this ship has a thrust-to-ma.s.s ratio a lumbering tub like that can't compete with. Once she gets going, she can probably keep up with us in tach, but she can't match us in normal s.p.a.ce.

"Don't tell me you came here to hide from her." her." Despite the dullness in his eyes and the pallor of his scars, he was recovering some of his energy. "I couldn't believe that even if I used both hands." Despite the dullness in his eyes and the pallor of his scars, he was recovering some of his energy. "I couldn't believe that even if I used both hands."

Angus couldn't believe it himself. And yet it was the truth. He himself, Angus Thermopyle-not his datacore, not Dios or Lebwohl-had made the decision to come here because Calm Horizons Calm Horizons and and Soar Soar and maybe some of the Bill's ships were after him. and maybe some of the Bill's ships were after him.

Echoing Nick involuntarily, he protested in dismay, What kind of s.h.i.t is is this? this?

Then, like another echo, he remembered the last time his programming had spoken to him directly. When Milos had attempted to take control of him in the Amnion sector of Billingate, a soundless voice in his head had countermanded Milos' orders.

You are no longer Joshua.

Jerico priority has been superseded.

You are Isaac. That is your name. It is also your access-code. Your priority-code is Gabriel.

"Shut up," he told Nick. Let me think. "I don't care whether you believe it or not. If I wanted you to know what my reasons are, I would have explained them already."

Access-code Isaac, he told the gap in his brain which served as a datalink. Why did you let me come here? Why didn't I have to head straight for UMCPHQ?

His datacore replied with a silence so complete that it seemed to resonate in his skull.

That fit. Although his computer had supplied him with vast impersonal bodies of information on such subjects as astrogation, Trumpet's Trumpet's design, and fusion generators, it'd never revealed anything about itself. Dios had promised him, design, and fusion generators, it'd never revealed anything about itself. Dios had promised him, Your programming will tell you what you need as you go along. Your programming will tell you what you need as you go along. However, no one had ever offered him any kind of explanation. However, no one had ever offered him any kind of explanation.

The intercom chimed. "Angus, what's happening?" Davies' voice sounded ragged with g and helplessness. "Where are we? Can I wake up Morn yet? Is it safe?"

More vehemently than he realized, Angus. .h.i.t commands on his board to disable all the ship's intercoms.

He couldn't suffer more distractions: he needed to understand. understand.

Had Warden Dios or Hashi Lebwohl finally lost him? Had he somehow pa.s.sed beyond the limits of his programming; broken free?

Or were his tormentors simply playing a deeper game than he could imagine?

G.o.d, was it possible that he'd broken free! broken free!

"Fine," Nick drawled. "Keep it to yourself." He studied Angus curiously. "Are you going to do that with your precious Morn, too? How do you think she and her self-righteous brat will react when they find themselves three light-years deep in Amnion s.p.a.ce, and you refuse to explain why? My people I don't know about-I guess they've lost their minds. But Morn and Davies are going to go ape-s.h.i.t."

"Shut up." up." The intensity of Angus' concentration congested his voice in his throat. He could hardly force out words. "I'm trying to think." The intensity of Angus' concentration congested his voice in his throat. He could hardly force out words. "I'm trying to think."

Frantic for answers, he cried his access-code in the silence of his head, used it to open a window on his databases. That worked: he hadn't lost his computer-or the information it contained. But did it still control him? Could he ignore its unspoken requirements?

A test: he needed a test. Some way to confirm quickly whether or not his datacore still ruled him. Some way to determine how far his ability to make his own decisions extended.

At once his heart tightened like a fist. Nick was here: the perfect choice. He was protected by his links to UMCPDA-and Angus hated him. If he spoke now, ignored or taunted Angus in any way, Angus would hit him again; hit him hard enough to splinter his skull, drive shards of bone into his brain, kill kill him by tearing his cerebral synapses to shreds- him by tearing his cerebral synapses to shreds- "It's a little late for that," Nick remarked. Angus' distraction appeared to intrigue him. "We're here. here. And you can't pretend there won't be any consequences. My G.o.d, Angus, what is Hashi going to think of you? Or Min Donner? And you can't pretend there won't be any consequences. My G.o.d, Angus, what is Hashi going to think of you? Or Min Donner?

"Sooner or later you'll have to start telling us the truth. You won't have any choice."

Now. Test it.

Gathering the strength of his shoulders, tensing his arms, Angus rose from his g-seat, readied himself to strike- -and stopped. All the muscles he needed froze. At that instant he couldn't have swung his fist to save his sanity. Even the effort of closing the distance between himself and the second's station was beyond him.

He knew the sensation too well. It was intimately familiar: as brutal as a rape; and so compulsory that he would never be able to fight it. The emissions of his zone implants were stronger than will and hope.

Confusion swirled through him, as complex as a masque; his breathing felt caged in his chest. d.a.m.n you! he raged uselessly. d.a.m.n you to h.e.l.l! His programming refused to let him pound his fists on the command board, so he ground them against his thighs. You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, why don't you tell me me the truth once in a while? What would it cost you to let me know what you want? the truth once in a while? What would it cost you to let me know what you want?

But he couldn't afford to fall into the abyss of his fury: not now, with Trumpet Trumpet three light-years deep in Amnion s.p.a.ce, and Morn aboard. three light-years deep in Amnion s.p.a.ce, and Morn aboard.