The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order by Stephen R. Donaldson Read Free Book Online

“that the next time the GCES meets
— which should be in about thirty-six hours, unless President Len panics again
— he’s going to introduce a Bill of Severance to take the UMCP away from the
UMC. He wants to make us a branch of the Council. He thinks he was attacked to
try to stop him. And he thinks Godsen was killed because whoever sent those
kazes assumed PR must be working with him. Which makes me a logical target. If
he’s right.
    “He
probably shouldn’t have told me,” Koina admitted. “I don’t know what our
position is going to be, but I’m afraid the director will have to fight him.
Holt Fasner won’t let us act like we want to be out from under his thumb. So
Captain Vertigus,” she remarked dryly, “has handed me an interesting problem in
ethics. Do I tell the director? How much do I tell him?
    “But
the captain knows all that,” she concluded. “He simply can’t stand to let me be
a target without warning me.”
    Hashi
blinked at her as if he were stunned.
    A Bill
of Severance. Attacked to try to stop him.
    Kazes
are such fun, don’t you think?
    The
thought gave him the sensation that he was caught in a swirl of quarks and
mesons; bits of logic so minuscule that they could scarcely be detected, and
yet so necessary that palpable facts were meaningless without them. The
coriolus filled him with a sense of exhilaration that was indistinguishable
from terror — an emotional mix which he found more stimulating, desirable, and
addictive than pseudoendorphins or raw cat.
    A Bill
of Severance, forsooth! Now, where did venerable, no, antique, ancient Captain Sixten Vertigus come by the sheer audacity to propose an idea like
that? The man was barely sapient.
    No
matter. Treasuring his excitement, Hashi kept it to himself.
    “How
extraordinarily conscientious of him,” he replied to Koina’s questioning gaze. “I
understand his dilemma — and yours, my dear Koina. If I were to presume to
advise you, I would suggest that this matter should be put before the director
immediately. Sooner.” Which might serve to distract Warden Dios from Hashi’s
delay on other subjects. And the outcome might prove entirely fascinating. What
would Warden do when he learned of Captain Vertigus’ intentions? “His response
may surprise you.”
    Koina
studied the DA director, frowning as if she couldn’t quite believe what she
heard. Then, abruptly, she rose from her seat. Putting him to the test before
he could change his mind, she said, “Thank you, Director Lebwohl. I’ll do that.”
    Without
waiting for an answer, she set her hand on the door and signalled the tech
outside to unseal it.
    Hashi
was in a hurry now. To complete her departure, he protested, “No, Director
Hannish. I thank you .”
    But his
attention was already elsewhere; on his hands as they worked his board, nimbly
running commands to call up the results of his retrieval request from Data
Storage.
    You
deserve her.
    Nick
Succorso, he half sang, half whistled through his teeth.
    Where
are you? What are you doing? What do you mean?
    He was
as happy as he’d ever been.
    Which
was more plausible? That Nick had access to knowledge concerning events on
Earth? Or that he’d gained an understanding of Morn’s usefulness as an
informational kaze aimed at the UMCP? The latter, obviously. Yet Hashi found
the idea difficult to credit. He couldn’t imagine how Nick — or Morn herself —
might have become aware that what she knew was explosive.
    Surely
the most plausible interpretation available was that when Nick said “her” he
meant Sorus Chatelaine.
    What is
the connection?
    Data
Storage supplied it — although Hashi couldn’t have said precisely what “it”
was. A coincidence; a hint, perhaps; the cornerstone of a fact: nothing more.
Nevertheless he treasured it as if it were essential to his exhilaration.
    Hard
information on Soar and her captain, Sorus Chatelaine, was scant. Like
most illegals, she was purportedly a freighter — in her