He s.n.a.t.c.hed Trumpet Trumpet out of her wild cartwheel when instincts or databases screamed at him that he was about to hit rock. Somehow retaining his sense of orientation despite out of her wild cartwheel when instincts or databases screamed at him that he was about to hit rock. Somehow retaining his sense of orientation despite Trumpet's Trumpet's vertiginous career, he hammered thrust against the spin, pulling the gap scout away from her attacker's guns, away from the scan madness which her dispersion field had created out of matter cannon fire; back the way she'd come; down into the depths of the swarm. vertiginous career, he hammered thrust against the spin, pulling the gap scout away from her attacker's guns, away from the scan madness which her dispersion field had created out of matter cannon fire; back the way she'd come; down into the depths of the swarm.

If he took the time to check on Morn, she didn't know it. She was unconscious on the deck, small beads of blood oozing from half a dozen abrasions on her back and scalp.

Davies shouted things like, "Who was was that?" and, "Where're we going?" and, "d.a.m.n it, Angus, that?" and, "Where're we going?" and, "d.a.m.n it, Angus, talk talk to me!" but Angus ignored him. He was deep in the uncluttered concentration of a machine, focused like a microprocessor on keeping his ship alive while she hurtled among the asteroids at three times her former velocity. If he made plans, or his programming made plans, they were buried where no one could argue with them. to me!" but Angus ignored him. He was deep in the uncluttered concentration of a machine, focused like a microprocessor on keeping his ship alive while she hurtled among the asteroids at three times her former velocity. If he made plans, or his programming made plans, they were buried where no one could argue with them.

I've seen that signature before!

In moments Trumpet Trumpet cleared the worst of the distortion. One at a time her instruments recovered their sight. The swarm became real again around them as if it had been re-created from the raw materials of the boson storm. cleared the worst of the distortion. One at a time her instruments recovered their sight. The swarm became real again around them as if it had been re-created from the raw materials of the boson storm.

"Gutbuster's back this way!" Davies yelled when scan and Deaner Beckmann's charts enabled him to identify where the gap scout was, where she was headed. "If you keep going like this, we might run right into her before I have a chance to fire!" back this way!" Davies yelled when scan and Deaner Beckmann's charts enabled him to identify where the gap scout was, where she was headed. "If you keep going like this, we might run right into her before I have a chance to fire!"

Angus may have known better. It was possible that some mechanical part of his mind had already calculated Soar's Soar's likely position and taken it into account. likely position and taken it into account.

In an entirely different way, Morn also seemed to know better. Instances of clarity opened in her unconsciousness like flowers which spread their blooms at the first touch of sunrise. So much certainty: so little fear. Life questioned nothing; death dreaded nothing. If she remained here, all things would become plain.

But of course she couldn't stay here. The time had come to move on. Fear was essential to the blood in her veins, the delicate web of electrical impulses in her brain. It was her mortality: she wasn't human without it. Her tangible flesh hurt too much to go on without fear.

Angus struggled to save the ship. In the same way, she fought to pull herself past the wall of darkness in her head.

She'd been under heavy g. She'd hit the bulkhead hard enough to go mad; Angus had used enough thrust to make her crazy. For a moment she seemed to pa.s.s the wall into gap-sickness.

I was floating, and everything was clear. It was like the universe spoke to me. I got the message, the truth. I knew exactly what to do.

I keyed the self-destruct sequence- She heard herself speaking as if she were Davies. She knew how he felt. Her whole existence revolved around self-destruct sequences.

As far as she could tell, only the pressure of g saved her; only the fact that her head and back hurt hurt, and she weighed at least thirty kg more than she should have. She couldn't float. The certainty was still with her: she remembered the sound of commandments, immanent and inevitable. But as she strove to climb the wall and open her eyes, the universe seemed to lose its hold on her. Flashes of clarity burst in her bloodstream like embolisms; died away like failed hopes.

She opened her eyes as the force of thrust eased and her body began to shed its artificial ma.s.s.

From her perspective, Angus towered over her at the command station. Beyond him across the bridge, Davies worked the second's console: on his screens he labored to project a position for some other vessel.

Soar? Or the other ship, the stranger? Or the other ship, the stranger?

Morn wanted to know the answer, although she didn't care which it was.

With an effort she lifted her head. "Angus." Coruscations spangled the back of her head, rippled down her spine. "What happened? Where are we? Are we intact?"

Davies jerked his head toward her. "Morn?" he croaked in dismay. "Christ!" Apparently he hadn't realized she was still there. He'd been concentrating too hard to notice her. "Are you all right?"

Angus had no time to spare for Davies, but he did for Morn. When he heard her voice, he wheeled his g-seat as if he were trying to fling it free of its mounts. Rage mottled his skin; feral stains seemed to flush from his face down his neck into his torso. His eyes burned with coercion or hysteria.

"I told you to get off the bridge!" he roared. "G.o.d d.a.m.n d.a.m.n it, Morn, what the it, Morn, what the f.u.c.k f.u.c.k do you think you're doing? You think we do you think you're doing? You think we need need you here? You think we can't make decisions or push keys unless you tell us what to do? Or are you just tired of living? It's been too long since you got to play self-destruct?" Clutching the edges of his board, he strained toward her against his belts. "Do you think I came all this way just so I could watch you lose your f.u.c.king you here? You think we can't make decisions or push keys unless you tell us what to do? Or are you just tired of living? It's been too long since you got to play self-destruct?" Clutching the edges of his board, he strained toward her against his belts. "Do you think I came all this way just so I could watch you lose your f.u.c.king mind? mind?

"This is my ship! When I give you an order, you are going to When I give you an order, you are going to carry it out!" carry it out!"

His fury was fierce enough to draw blood. Perhaps because fading embolisms of clarity still ran in her veins, however, he didn't frighten her. She was already bleeding: the bulkhead had drawn blood. Facing him as squarely as the pain in her skull allowed, she murmured, "I guess that means we're still intact."

He rocked back in his g-seat as if her reaction punctured him; deflated him somehow. "Yes "Yes, we're still intact." Surprise and speculation changed the mottling on his skin to dull grime. "This kid of yours doesn't have the sense to focus targ before he fires, but he has good timing with a dispersion field. That ship hit us hard without actually hitting us at all."

His eyes searched her as if he wanted to see inside her head.

"What're you trying to do to yourself?" Davies demanded thickly. "Why didn't you go? Don't you know how dangerous-?"

His protest trailed off.

"You didn't get gap-sickness." Angus' voice was harsh with doubt. "Or you were out long enough for it to pa.s.s. Or I didn't give you enough g to trigger it. Or you used that d.a.m.n zone implant so much you cauterized your brain. s.h.i.t, Morn, you-"

Whatever he might have said, he didn't finish it.

Groaning at the abrasions, Morn shifted her shoulders; climbed slowly into a sitting position. He was right: something had prevented her gap-sickness from taking hold. The g had been hard enough to make her crazy; she knew that. Had she been unconscious long enough to mute her illness? Had she driven herself so hard with her black box that she'd damaged neurons? Maybe. There was no way to tell.

Now that the crisis was past, she felt a touch of relief.

And a hint of sadness, as if she'd lost something she valued when the clear commandments of the universe receded.

She knew how Davies felt.

"So where are we going?" she asked while she tested the extent of her sc.r.a.pes and bruises.

"That's right," Davies muttered. "You "You ask him." He sounded suddenly bitter. "He won't tell me." ask him." He sounded suddenly bitter. "He won't tell me."

Like a man throwing up his hands, Angus growled, "Back. Into the swarm." Grimacing in disgust or bafflement, he referred to the screens. "You can see that."

Davies snarled a curse, but Angus ignored him.

"You haven't studied Beckmann's charts like I have," Angus went on. "From where we are, there isn't any reasonable course out of this mess except the one where we met that other ship. Unless you like clearing rock out of your way by running into it. We're stuck between Soar Soar and that other b.a.s.t.a.r.d. We could duck and dodge, maybe hide for a while, but eventually they're going to find us. and that other b.a.s.t.a.r.d. We could duck and dodge, maybe hide for a while, but eventually they're going to find us.

"I want to deal with them one at a time. If they hit us together, even dispersion fields aren't going to keep us intact. So I'll try Soar Soar first, see what we can do. I know more about her." With his own bitterness, he added, "And there's always a chance Captain Sheepf.u.c.ker damaged her. That might help us. first, see what we can do. I know more about her." With his own bitterness, he added, "And there's always a chance Captain Sheepf.u.c.ker damaged her. That might help us.

"Besides," he went on harshly, "I know that other ship. We've seen her before."

He didn't pause. Anger and desperation drove him. "Her name's Free Lunch. Free Lunch. She was at Billingate the same time we were. She got out a couple of hours ahead of us. We heard her name from operational transmissions in Billingate's control s.p.a.ce. Scan picked up her emission signature. She was at Billingate the same time we were. She got out a couple of hours ahead of us. We heard her name from operational transmissions in Billingate's control s.p.a.ce. Scan picked up her emission signature.

"Do I have to tell you what that means?" he snarled. Morn shook her head, but he didn't stop. "She knows us from Billingate. And she knows Soar. Soar. So it's no f.u.c.king coincidence that she turned up here just in time to start shooting at us." So it's no f.u.c.king coincidence that she turned up here just in time to start shooting at us."

"She's working with Soar," Soar," Morn said for him. Oh, G.o.d, more enemies. How many allies did Sorus Chatelaine have? Morn said for him. Oh, G.o.d, more enemies. How many allies did Sorus Chatelaine have?

"If we try to face both of them at once," he finished, "we're dead."

He shrugged violently, as if he were restraining an impulse to hit something. Then he said more quietly, "And Sib's back there. For whatever that's worth. If Soar Soar or Captain Sheepf.u.c.ker didn't kill him-and he's out of the way when the shooting starts-and we can beat or Captain Sheepf.u.c.ker didn't kill him-and he's out of the way when the shooting starts-and we can beat Soar Soar-and Free Lunch Free Lunch doesn't catch us too soon-and we're able to find him-" doesn't catch us too soon-and we're able to find him-"

Angus let the rest of the sentence die into the background whine of Trumpet's Trumpet's drives, the whisper of air-scrubbers, the nearly subliminal hum of charged matter cannon. drives, the whisper of air-scrubbers, the nearly subliminal hum of charged matter cannon.

The thought of Sib Mackern alone in the vast crackling turmoil of the swarm, slowly dying inside his EVA suit while he waited for his air to run out or Trumpet Trumpet to come for him, gave Morn a sharper sadness: the pang of it seemed to settle against her heart like a blade. He might be better off if Nick killed him, or to come for him, gave Morn a sharper sadness: the pang of it seemed to settle against her heart like a blade. He might be better off if Nick killed him, or Soar Soar did. The distress of his old fears and losses deserved some clean end. did. The distress of his old fears and losses deserved some clean end.

How long could he scream without dying inside?

How many allies did Sorus Chatelaine have?

By an act of will she set her questions aside. Speaking more to Davies than to Angus, she said softly, "So this isn't for revenge anymore. We're going after Soar Soar because that's better than the alternatives." because that's better than the alternatives."

Davies appeared to swallow a retort. He needed his hunger for revenge on Gutbuster Gutbuster and Sorus Chatelaine: she understood that now. It protected him from deeper terrors, keener madnesses. His own peculiar gap-sickness-the strange, demented gulf separating who he was from what he remembered-lurked in him avidly, waiting its time to strike. If he couldn't fight for his image of who he should have been, he might disappear between the dimensions of himself and never return. and Sorus Chatelaine: she understood that now. It protected him from deeper terrors, keener madnesses. His own peculiar gap-sickness-the strange, demented gulf separating who he was from what he remembered-lurked in him avidly, waiting its time to strike. If he couldn't fight for his image of who he should have been, he might disappear between the dimensions of himself and never return.

Trying to help her son, she asked Angus, "Do you know how you want to tackle her?"

He shook his head; for a moment he didn't reply. He may have been consulting his databases or programming. Then he said, "Depends on how far away we spot her. How much cover we can use. Whether we get a clear field of fire. I can't be sure.

"But this time," he told Davies, "don't be so G.o.dd.a.m.n eager to shoot." His tone was gruff. Yet Morn thought she heard something more than disdain in it. Amus.e.m.e.nt, maybe? Recognition? "There's only one real defense against a super-light proton cannon. You have to take out the gun before they can use it.

"Sometimes your shields hold. If you're far enough away. And sometimes, if you're too f.u.c.king lucky to die, you can shove a matter blast right down the throat of the proton beam. That seems to fray it somehow, take the edge off. Then maybe your shields can hold. But n.o.body gets that lucky very often.

"So don't waste your time pulverizing a few rocks. Focus. If we get a good look at her, scan can identify her emitters."

Awkwardly, as if Morn's presence disturbed his concentration, Davies sent schematics to one of the displays, reminding himself of the configuration and emission signature which characterized super-light proton cannon.

Holding her breath against the throb in her head, Morn rose from the deck and reached for a handgrip. Maneuvering thrust held her against the bulkhead, but Trumpet Trumpet wasn't turning hard enough to threaten her. Nevertheless she cleated her zero-g belt to an anchor. That was the only precaution she could take-short of leaving the bridge. wasn't turning hard enough to threaten her. Nevertheless she cleated her zero-g belt to an anchor. That was the only precaution she could take-short of leaving the bridge.

For a moment she studied Angus' scan plot. Then she asked, "How long do you think we have?"

Do I have time to go to sickbay for some cat?

Do I have to decide whether I'm willing to take more drugs?

"Minutes," Angus growled distantly. "More, less, I don't f.u.c.king know." He was sinking back into the mechanical focus of his microprocessor. "Soar "Soar isn't coasting, that's for d.a.m.n sure. She wants to catch us before we can leave the swarm." isn't coasting, that's for d.a.m.n sure. She wants to catch us before we can leave the swarm."

Not enough time to go to sickbay. Morn cleared her lungs with a sigh. She'd made her decision when she hadn't left the bridge earlier.

Had she simply been unconscious long enough to outlast her gap-sickness? Was that what had saved her? Or had something inside her changed? Had she crossed a personal gap into other possibilities?

Like ident.i.ty-or like the relationship between ident.i.ty and fear-gap-sickness was a mystery. No one understood it.

No one had enough time- "There!" Angus stabbed keys, and a scan image sprang to life on one of the displays. Angus stabbed keys, and a scan image sprang to life on one of the displays.

Thirty k away, past an oscillating jumble of rocks the size of EVA suits and other loose debris, a ship swung past the bulk of an asteroid big enough to block her from Trumpet's Trumpet's sensors. While the image sharpened, the ship lined her prow in sensors. While the image sharpened, the ship lined her prow in Trumpet's Trumpet's direction. direction.

Emission numbers along the bottom of the screen spiked rapidly. Targ tracking: the ship was about to fire.

Scan identified her profile instantly; configuration; thrust characteristics. She was Soar. Soar.

Under the circ.u.mstances, she was moving fast. Her velocity was nearly as high as Trumpet's. Trumpet's. They would be within ramming range of each other in twenty seconds. They would be within ramming range of each other in twenty seconds.

"s.h.i.t!" Instantly frantic, Davies hammered his board, searching for his target. "I can't-!" His voice cracked. "Angus, I can't find her emitters!"

Morn clenched both fists on her handgrip and hung there, watching. If Davies couldn't see the emitters, Soar Soar must not be oriented to use her proton cannon. must not be oriented to use her proton cannon.

"Forget it!" Angus snapped back. "Pay attention! Fire torpedoes, then static mines, then matter cannon! Then get on that dispersi-"

He was cut off. Numbers shrilled red along the display: klaxons yowled.

Shoulders hunching like a strangler's, he jammed his fingers onto the helm keys, hauling Trumpet Trumpet sideways with every gram of lateral thrust she could generate. sideways with every gram of lateral thrust she could generate.

A small fraction of a heartbeat later, scan scrambled and shut down, foundering in Soar's Soar's matter cannon barrage. matter cannon barrage.

The gap scout staggered as if she'd run into a wall. Alarms and metal stress shrieked at each other like the fury of the d.a.m.ned. Morn slammed to the side; bounced back in time to see Trumpet's Trumpet's particle sinks red-lining on one of the displays as they strained to bleed off the impact-absorb the impossible picoseconds during which the cannon's energy attained near-infinite ma.s.s. particle sinks red-lining on one of the displays as they strained to bleed off the impact-absorb the impossible picoseconds during which the cannon's energy attained near-infinite ma.s.s.

In increments of time only a CPU could measure, the sinks failed: one by one they overloaded and seemed to burst like exploded gla.s.s. Yet they must have saved the ship. Or else the coincident static seethe of the swarm's electromagnetic friction had eroded some of Soar's Soar's force. Or Angus' evasion had spared force. Or Angus' evasion had spared Trumpet Trumpet a direct hit. Despite the clangor of stress and the howl of alarms, Morn would have heard the deep-throated, whooping shout of the klaxon which warned that the ship had broken open. a direct hit. Despite the clangor of stress and the howl of alarms, Morn would have heard the deep-throated, whooping shout of the klaxon which warned that the ship had broken open.

Would have, but didn't. Therefore Trumpet's Trumpet's hulls held. hulls held.

Through the racket, Angus raged, "Do what I told you!" "Do what I told you!"

Bracing himself with one arm on the end of his board, Davies launched plasma torpedoes, sprayed out static mines. Using residual scan data to direct targ, he fired a blind volley of matter cannon.

He must have missed. He wasn't Angus; simply wasn't fast enough to extrapolate both Trumpet's Trumpet's and and Soar's Soar's new positions and take them into account. new positions and take them into account.

Thrust still clawed the gap scout to the side. Morn's arms strained in their sockets as if they were being torn out. Without the support of her belt, she would have lost her grip. On his board Angus ran commands like lightning; instructions so swift that they seemed to have no effect.

Scan took forever to clear: two seconds; three. Then the screens went wild as Trumpet's Trumpet's systems raced to catch up with new input. systems raced to catch up with new input.

An instant later the displays resolved into fatal precision.

Their images froze Morn's heart. Involuntarily, uselessly, she cried out, "Angus!"

One of the static mines had already gone off, leaving an area of distortion like a migraine aura at the edge of scan. Past it, however, the sensors read Soar Soar plainly, still driving toward her prey. Violent energies scorched along one flank, and her hull wore a corona of dissipating forces: a near miss from plainly, still driving toward her prey. Violent energies scorched along one flank, and her hull wore a corona of dissipating forces: a near miss from Trumpet's Trumpet's cannon. Plasma blossoms studded the void around her. But she was whole: her shield and sinks had shrugged the a.s.sault aside. And she had a clear field of fire ahead of her. cannon. Plasma blossoms studded the void around her. But she was whole: her shield and sinks had shrugged the a.s.sault aside. And she had a clear field of fire ahead of her.

That wasn't the worst of it, however. As scan cleared, the surrounding swarm became visible again.

The screens showed that Angus' efforts to evade Soar's Soar's attack had sent attack had sent Trumpet Trumpet with lethal momentum straight at an asteroid so ma.s.sive it threatened to crush her. with lethal momentum straight at an asteroid so ma.s.sive it threatened to crush her.

Angus didn't answer Morn's cry. He may not have heard it: he was too busy. As Soar's Soar's targ readings spiked for another barrage, he cracked like a whip at Davies, targ readings spiked for another barrage, he cracked like a whip at Davies, "Dispersion!" "Dispersion!"

Wordless rage rose like a scream through Davies' clenched throat. Desperately he keyed his defenses.

For the second time scan collapsed in the heart of a boson storm as the dispersion field transformed matter cannon fire to chaos.

"Yes!," Angus brandished his teeth at the screens; pounded the side of his board with his fist. At once, however, he attacked his console again, entering commands Morn couldn't follow or interpret.

A jolt of thrust slapped her around her handgrip; her other shoulder thudded the bulkhead. She clung for her life: her hands and her belt were all that kept her from being thrown at the screens. Maybe the jolt was enough; maybe Angus could wrench the gap scout off the asteroid looming at her; maybe- With a palpable lurch, Trumpet's Trumpet's thrust died. thrust died.

G suddenly vanished. At once the pressure of Morn's arms lifted her into the air. Then her belt s.n.a.t.c.hed her back.

Without thrust-!

Blinded by the storm, proximity alarms went off only a heartbeat before Trumpet Trumpet stumbled against the side of the rock. stumbled against the side of the rock.

An appalling screech seemed to pull Morn loose from her handgrip. She dangled from her belt as the pressure tried to fling her across the bridge. The ship's hulls and skeleton cried out in metal agony. Davies was tossed like a doll back and forth between his g-seat and console. In contrast, Angus' inhuman strength protected him: braced against his station, he locked himself rigid to endure the collision.

G doubled Morn over. Her forehead smacked on her knees. Her belt seemed to be tearing her in half. She couldn't breathe- Caterwauling with damage and protest, Trumpet Trumpet settled to rest as if she were embedded in the asteroid. Several different alarms continued to squall: damage-control alerts; power failure warnings; systems fluctuations. Metal groaned and rang as the hulls and infrastructure adjusted themselves. settled to rest as if she were embedded in the asteroid. Several different alarms continued to squall: damage-control alerts; power failure warnings; systems fluctuations. Metal groaned and rang as the hulls and infrastructure adjusted themselves.