Forbidden Knowledge (11 page)

At times she sensed a need in him so deep that it was virtually bottomless—a need for his own efficacy or virility which could only be temporarily assuaged, never truly relieved. It showed not only in the way he went about sex, but in the way he talked. Apparently what he enjoyed most was repeating stories other people (so he said) told about him—stories of escapes and rescues, victories and acts of piracy; buccaneering stories, dramatic and brave. He never confirmed whether these stories were true, but his relish for them remained constant. He needed them—and his need drove him to her. In fact, the more she fed his hunger, the more compulsory it became: the more she listened to him and responded to him, the more he desired her.

She hated that: she hated him and everything he did. Sometimes her revulsion grew so acute that she lay awake while he slept, gritting her teeth and imagining how good it would feel to cut his guts open and pull his testicles out through his abdomen.

Nevertheless she suffered his presence; she burned with passion at his touch; she encouraged him to talk. She could see what the things he did meant.

She was becoming valuable to him.

Despite her increasing nausea, she protected her own survival by giving him what he wanted.

And his attachment did have one apparent benefit: as long as he was pleased with her, she had the freedom of the ship. As long as she was always available for him, she could go where she wished, look where she wished. Nobody stood in her way. Even Mikka Vasaczk left her strictly alone.

When she took advantage of her freedom, she found Vector immured in his engines, or Carmel and Lind up to their elbows in wiring; video showed her people in EVA suits crawling across
Captain’s Fancy
’s shell; lifts were regularly out of service while they were taken apart and put back together again by the second engineer, a gangling youth with unruly hair and bad skin whom everybody called Pup, even though he obviously hated it.

Familiarity with her surroundings wasn’t enough to ease her distress, however. She wanted something more.

She wanted access to the ship’s computers—to the logs; even to the datacore. From them she might be able to learn where she was, where she was going. She couldn’t test Vector’s story one way or the other, but she might find evidence of UMCP complicity in Angus’ arrest. She might be able to learn who Nick Succorso really was.

That knowledge might conceivably have helped her; but she didn’t get it. Because of the overhaul, the computers were always attended. Even the auxiliary bridge was never deserted, although it was tucked out of the way in the drive space, next to the console room where Vector monitored his engines.

In fact, her freedom of the ship was really a disadvantage. It didn’t provide her with what she wanted. On the other hand, it subjected her to a nerve-wracking series of encounters with Orn Vorbuld.

Vector’s badly repaired friend must have been watching her all the time: that was the only explanation she could think of for his ability to locate her whenever she was alone. He was the ship’s computer expert: he was probably capable of rigging the maintenance computer’s sensors to keep track of her. Eventually she began to hesitate when she had an opportunity to leave her cabin because she knew that, sooner or later, she would have to fend him off.

He seldom spoke to her; but he never let her pass without touching her. On the first occasion, he only repeated the caress he’d once given her hair. But on the second, he managed to rub a hand across her breasts before she moved out of his reach. On the third, he squeezed her breasts so hard that they ached for an hour afterward.

Later he caught hold of her and kissed her like a lamprey. She wasn’t able to break loose until she contrived to slam the heel of her boot against the back of his knee.

She hurt him enough to make him let go—but not enough to make him stop stalking her.

This was a crisis of another kind. She could have isolated herself in her cabin, of course. Or she could have told Nick what was happening: she knew him well enough now to believe that he wouldn’t tolerate Orn’s actions. But both those options stank of defeat—and she’d already suffered more defeats than she could bear.

She didn’t tell Nick. And she didn’t hide in her cabin.

Instead she went to talk to Vector Shaheed.

She found him, as usual, in the drive space. She couldn’t see him, but she heard him working inside the heavy shell of the gap field generator, still trying to repair the drive himself. To attract his attention, she pounded on the shell with her palm and shouted, “Vector!”

A variety of clunking noises answered her. Then the engineer emerged painfully from the service hatch, a circuit probe in one hand.

“Morn.” His round face was pink with exertion, but his manner was as mild as ever. “What can I do for you?”

She felt no need to pretend she wasn’t angry. She required anger. Without it, she would be at the mercy of her fear and revulsion.

“What’s the matter with that so-called friend of yours?” she demanded harshly. “I think he’s going to rape me.”

Vector blinked at her for a moment, apparently unable to guess whom she meant. Then his eyes cleared. “Oh, Orn.

“I told you,” he commented. “He has the glands of an ape—and no scruples. If you convinced him you had syphilis, I don’t think even that would slow him down. As far as I can tell, he has no physical fears. Sickbay can fix anything.

“Of course, Nick won’t like it.” He paused, considering the situation, then added, “You don’t really have a problem.”

Morn tried to replicate the lash she’d sometimes heard in her father’s voice. “I don’t?”

Vector smiled as if his thoughts were already back in the shell with the gap drive.

“You’re a big girl now. All you have to do is stop him.”

All those hours with Nick had left her primed for an explosion. “I’ll stop him, all right.” Fuming, she turned and strode away.

But she had no idea how to do it.

She’d been trained in the Academy: she knew how to defend herself. On the other hand, Orn Vorbuld was bigger, much stronger. And she couldn’t risk using the enhanced resources of her zone implant: quickness, concentration, numbness to pain. To do that, she needed to carry the control with her—and she could too easily imagine that it might be discovered.

She wanted a gun. A good impact pistol would be nice. Even a laser-cutter would suffice. But nobody aboard
Captain’s Fancy
was likely to give her a weapon without Nick’s permission; and that would necessitate an explanation.

Fulminating like a vial of acid, she went to the galley for a mug of coffee and a chance to think.

As a precaution, she sat at the table with her back to the foodvend, facing the outer corridor so that Orn wouldn’t be able to take her by surprise.

He arrived so promptly that she almost believed Vector had told him where to find her. But of course the engineer hadn’t known where she was headed when she left the drive space—

Orn came into the galley, a flush of anticipation on his face. Not for the first time, she noticed how big his hands were; they looked like slabs of meat.

She stood up sharply.

He stopped. For a moment they confronted each other over the table.

Like his voice, his eyes were incongruously timid; he stared at her in apprehension, as if she were hot enough to scald him. But she already knew there wasn’t anything timid about him. She wasn’t misled when he said like a frightened boy, “I want you.”

“Too bad,” she retorted. “I don’t want you.”

If he had any ear at all for disgust, he would know she was telling the truth.

Obviously he wasn’t worried about her disgust. “Yes, you do,” he said with as much certainty as his voice could convey. “Women are like that. They don’t care who they get it from. They think they do, but they don’t. They just want it.

“Nick’s too soft on you. I’ll show you what it’s really like.”

Remembering Angus, Morn wanted to spit in Orn’s face. “You’re wrong about that,” she snapped. “I already know. I promised myself the next man who tries it is going to end up dead.

“Does Nick,” she countered before he could move, “know you’re like this?”

Orn’s grin bore no resemblance to his voice, or his eyes: it was bloodthirsty and unconcerned. “Nick knows something more important than that,” he returned, still sounding afraid. “He knows he needs me. He just doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know I put a virus in the computers—the same day I came aboard. I’m the only one who knows how to work around it. Usually I put it on hold. But it isn’t on hold now. Anybody who tries to get into the systems without me will trigger a complete wipe. Everything will disappear.

“Unless you keep your mouth shut and give me what I want, one of us is going to have to tell him about that.”

Despite her anger, he shocked her. A complete wipe! That was as good as suicide: it would kill
Captain’s Fancy
and everybody aboard. Despair surged up in her; despair and loathing. He was like Angus. He had more weapons than she could face, more ways to control her—

When he stepped forward and reached across the table to take hold of her, she flung her coffee into his eyes.

Take that and be damned, you sonofabitch!

Rounding the table while he yowled, she hammered him across the bridge of his nose with her mug. Blood spattered down his cheeks. As fast as she could, she followed that blow with a spear-hand jab for the base of his throat.

Although he was blinded by coffee and blood, he somehow managed to catch hold of her wrist.

That was all he needed.

She tried a whirling turn. If she could spin hard enough, catch him on the temple with her elbow, she might stun him, make him let go.

But he turned with her. Using her own momentum, he slammed her headfirst into the wall.

When she hit, her brain went to jelly, and all her muscles failed.

She kept on flailing randomly, but to no purpose. Gripping her wrist, he hit her again and again; she thought he was going to hit her until she broke. Then, abruptly, he stopped. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted her alive; he wanted her in pain. Like Angus. Releasing his hold, he snatched at her shipsuit with both hands and ripped it off her shoulders.

Voices came from somewhere, but they meant nothing; they didn’t make a difference. She fought for control of her limbs. The sleeves of her shipsuit were down around her elbows, binding her arms so that she couldn’t use them. And Orn was too strong for her. He drove her out of the galley, shoved her against the opposite wall. She was headed for the floor.

“Get her, Orn,” someone said happily. “Show her you won’t take no for an answer. Show her you don’t care what Nick thinks.”

“Fuck her!” another voice demanded. “Fuck her hard! Make her bleed!”

When he closed his fists on her breasts and tried to clamp his mouth over hers, she dropped into a crouch.

Despite her blank brain and her weakness, she coiled herself under him and brought her knee up into his groin.

With a gasp, he recoiled.

“Again!” a voice called like a cheer. “Hit him again!”

Staggering along the wall, she turned and tried to run.

He tackled her before she went three steps. His weight landed on top of her as she struck the floor. The impact paralyzed her. She couldn’t resist as he rolled her over and began to tear her shipsuit the rest of the way open.

“Clear the mess.” Nick spoke in a conversational tone, but his voice cut through Morn’s hurt. “We’re going to need some room.”

Orn froze.

Morn heard boots running. Then Nick said casually, “Orn, I think you’ve just made a serious mistake. In fact, I think it’s the last mistake you’re ever going to make.”

Morn caught a ragged breath as Orn scrambled off her and jumped to his feet.

“She damaged you,” Nick commented. “That’s good. Let’s go to the mess. You can wash the blood out of your eyes. Then we’ll see if there’s any way you can survive this.”

“Nick—” Orn began. His voice was full of incongruous panic and threats.

“Come on, Orn,” Vector said. When Morn sat up, closed her shipsuit, and raised her head, she saw the engineer standing beside his friend. “You must have known this was going to happen. At least he’s giving you time to think. Maybe you can think of something to save you.”

Drawing Orn along by the arm, Vector moved in the direction of the mess.

Belatedly someone offered to help Morn. She threw the hands off and levered herself stiffly to her feet.

Nick glanced at her. “How bad is it?” he asked as if he had no particular interest in her answer.

She shook her head. “Let me have a gun.” Her legs were frail, and her head reeled; she had to lean on the wall to keep her balance. “I’ll kill him myself.”

Nick chuckled harshly and followed Orn.

In moments virtually the entire crew was assembled in the mess. If anyone was left on the bridge, it had to be somebody Morn didn’t know. The tables and chairs had been moved out of the center of the mess; men and women stood among them around the walls. While Vector cleaned Orn’s face, Nick walked out into the middle of the floor alone and stood waiting. He was surrounded by grins and frowns, excitement and fear, but nobody said anything. Morn’s strained breathing was the only sound in the room.

Abruptly Nick remarked, “Orn, you’ve given me a problem.”

Orn turned to face his captain. “No, I haven’t.” His voice was more timid than ever. Nevertheless the way he turned, the way he moved, reminded Morn that Vector had said of him,
He has no physical fears.
“If you want her for yourself, all you have to do is keep her locked up. I told you—I warned you she would cause trouble. Since you decided to let her run around loose, I figured you didn’t mind sharing her.”

“You don’t understand.” In contrast to Orn, Nick sounded smooth and easy, as if he ran on frictionless bearings. “I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about you. You’re good with computers—maybe the best I’ve seen. Now I’m going to have to replace you.”

There was fright in Orn’s eyes, if not in his stance. “You don’t have to replace me.”