Forbidden Knowledge (27 page)

He continued to stare at her with his eyes full of bleak, unremitting fear.

“You better believe her,” Nick snarled viciously. “She’s never told
me
the truth, but she’s telling it to you. She damn near got us all dispersed to infinity in the gap so she could save your shit-miserable life.”

Morn ignored him. Her son needed her,
her son
; her mind in Angus’ body. His dread was as palpable to her as her own. She had no attention to spare for Nick’s outrage—or his grief.

The doctor came to stand beside her and Davies. “You wish to be clothed,” it said. “It is understood that humans require garments.” One of its arms offered a shipsuit and boots made of a strange material that appeared to absorb light. “The frailty of human skin is conducive to fear. This is a racial defect, correctable by Amnion.”

With a small shock, Morn realized that the doctor may have been trying to comfort Davies.

“Do it,” she urged him softly. “Get dressed. We’ll go back to
Captain’s Fancy.
We can talk there.”

Then she stepped back to show him that she could stand without his support.

He complied, not because he believed her, not because he set his fear aside in order to trust her—she knew this in the same way that she knew herself—but because his nakedness made him feel vulnerable to harm and manipulation. Awkwardly, as if his brain weren’t entirely in control of his movements, he accepted the shipsuit and put it on; he shoved his feet into the boots. The fit was approximate, but adequate.

The sulfuric light didn’t appear to touch him anywhere except on his face and hands; his clothes shed it like water. But it gave his face a jaundiced hue, and the contrast made him look at once more and less like his father: more malign, and less certain of it.

“Are you done?” Nick rasped. “I want to get out of here.”

“The return to your ship is acceptable,” said the Amnioni. “You will be escorted.” An instant later it added, “Further violence is not acceptable.”

The guards let go of Nick’s arms.

“Tell him to leave me alone.” Davies’ appeal sounded like that of a scared child—of the scared child inside Morn.

“I’m not going to touch you, asshole,” retorted Nick. “Not here. You’re coming back to
my
ship. Once you’re aboard, I’ll do anything I fucking
want
to you.”

Davies’ eyes turned to Morn in alarm and supplication.

“I can’t tell you not to be afraid,” she said unsteadily. “I’m scared of him, too. But we can’t stay here. You know that. Somewhere inside, you know that.” She was frantic for strength, for the ability to make her words reach him and be believed. “Somewhere inside, you know how to defend yourself. And I’m on your side. Completely.” She spoke to her son, but she wanted Nick to hear her and understand that she was threatening him. “I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Davies held her gaze for a long moment as if without her he would drown in his dread. Then, slowly, he nodded.

One of the guards opened the door to the outer hall and the transport sled.

“Come on.” Nick turned and strode out of the lab.

The doctor picked up Morn’s EVA suit, gave it to her. She bundled it under one arm so that her other hand was free to reach into her pocket. Still wavering, she followed Nick.

The entire center of her being, from her crotch to her heart, ached dully, as if something essential had been torn away. She concentrated on that so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by her concern for her son.

Ahead of her, Nick stepped into the sled. She did the same.

So did Davies.

Staring straight past the shoulders of the Amnioni driver as if he could no longer bear to look at her, he rode with her back through Enablement Station to
Captain’s Fancy.

By the time they reached the high emptiness of the dock, he couldn’t conceal the fact that he was trembling. Already, she guessed, his grasp on what little he knew about himself had begun to fail, eroded not only by the shock of seeing himself in someone else and hearing his identity denied, but also by his father’s physical legacy—by testosterone and male endocrine balances. And then there were the unguessable aftereffects of his mother’s use of a zone implant while he was in her womb. In a short time, Morn realized, he would cease to think in ways she could predict or even understand.

She had to resist an impulse to put her arms around him as if he really were a child.

Instead she eased her hand into the pocket of her shipsuit.

She needed to be ready for whatever Nick might do when they boarded
Captain’s Fancy.
Yet she couldn’t risk betraying her zone implant by regaining strength too easily. When her fingers felt sure on her black box, she tapped the functions which would supply her with energy; but she set them at a low level.

The effect wasn’t a relief. The same neural stimulation which sharpened her mind and quickened her reflexes also counteracted the drugs she’d been given to numb her pain. But she accepted that. Pain, too, was a resource: like her apprehension for Davies and her fear of Nick, it helped bring her into focus.

The sled eased to a halt near
Captain’s Fancy
’s outer lock. The lock still stood open, waiting.

Both Amnion got out.

Nick and Morn did the same. After a moment’s hesitation, Davies swung his legs over the side of the sled.

One of the guards spoke into its headset. To Morn’s surprise, Enablement continued broadcasting voices so that she and Davies could hear them and their translation.

“You may reenter your ship,” the speakers announced. “Departure will not be permitted.”

Nick wheeled on the guards. “
What
?”

The Amnioni voice spoke again. “You may reenter your ship. Departure will not be permitted.”

“You sonofabitch, that violates our agreement.
Departure
is part of the trade.”

Neither of the guards answered.

“Presumed human Captain Nick Succorso,” replied the alien voice, “departure has been agreed. It will be permitted. Delay is necessary. Established reality is in flux. Events do not conform. Consideration is required. Departure will be postponed.”

“No!” Nick shouted back. “I don’t agree! I want
out
of here!”

There was no response. The air was as empty as the dock.

Both guards pointed toward
Captain’s Fancy
’s locks.

Neither of them touched their weapons.

They didn’t need to.

“Goddamn it!” snarled Nick. “‘Trade’ with the Amnion is like swimming in the fucking sewer of the universe.”

Nearly running, he headed for his ship.

“Come on.” Morn took Davies’ arm and urged him forward. “Whatever he does to us, it’ll be better than being abandoned here.”

Deliberately, as if he were making a point, Davies disengaged his arm. But then he accompanied Morn through the station’s scan- and decontamination-lock.

Doom haunted his eyes. Yet with every passing moment his movements grew more secure as his brain and body adjusted to each other.

In the ship’s airlock, Nick pounded impatiently on the control panel,
muttering
, “Do it, Mikka. Seal the ship. Let me in.”

Almost on Morn’s and Davies’ backs, the door swept shut. Panel lights indicated that the Amnion air was being pumped out, replaced by the ship’s human atmosphere. Another light showed that the inner doors were being unlocked.

Nick couldn’t wait for the air to clear. Roughly he knocked loose the seals of his helmet, pulled it off his head, then jabbed open the intercom and hissed, “Let me
in.
”

Morn understood. Suit communications might still be patched through Enablement. However, the intercom was safe.

“Nick,” Mikka demanded as the control panel went green and the inner doors opened, “what the hell’s going on?”

Ripping open his EVA suit, he strode into his ship. “How in shit should I know?” he retorted; but he was too far from the lock intercom pickup to be heard. When he’d kicked off his suit, he toggled the nearest intercom.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You heard everything I heard. Those bastards! If they make us stay long enough, they’ll have time to test my blood. They’ll know I cheated.

“Keep self-destruct ready. Start nudging drive off standby. Ease some charge into the matter cannon. And disconnect communications. Don’t let Station hear anything unless I’m talking to them.

“We’re coming up.”

Leaving Morn to close and seal the inner doors, he headed for the bridge.

Quickly Morn pulled the breathing mask off her head; dropped it and her EVA suit beside Nick’s. Then she keyed in the close-and-lock sequence for the doors and started after him.

But she stopped as soon as she realized that Davies wasn’t with her.

He sat hunched with his back to the doors and his knees hugged against his chest. His forehead rested on his knees.

In that posture, he was so unlike Angus Thermopyle that she nearly wept for him. He urgently needed his father’s obsessive and brutal instinct for survival.

She went back to him. After she said his name, however, her throat closed, and she couldn’t go on.

“I don’t understand this.” His thighs and the mask muffled his voice. “I can’t remember anything.

“He’s going to do something terrible to me.”

Harsh because of her own grief and desperation, she snapped, “That’s probably true. He’s not a nice man. But we’ve got to face it. We don’t have any choice. He can leave us here—he can leave us to the Amnion. Then we’ll lose everything. We won’t be human anymore. They’ll pump mutagens into us, and we’ll become like them. If we’re lucky, we won’t even notice that we’ve joined a race that wants to get rid of the entire human species.

“Davies, listen to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the second most important thing in the galaxy. You’re my
son.
” You’re the part of me I need to believe in. “But the
first
, the
most
important thing is to not betray my humanity. As long as I’ve got life or breath to fight with, I won’t let that happen to me. Or anybody else.”

She knew how to reach him: she knew the motivational strings that pulled his will. They were still the same as hers; he hadn’t had time to change. And now she had the strength to convey conviction. Her zone implant provided that.

Slowly his head came up. The look in his eyes reminded her of something she’d once loathed and feared.

“If he tries to hurt you,” Davies said, “I’m going to tear his arms off.”

She gave a sigh of relief and dread. “It doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t care about you, so he won’t try to hurt me. He’s more likely to hurt you as a way of getting even with me.”

Despite his expression, he still sounded like a child, singsong and uncomprehending. “What did I do to him? I mean, what did you do to him when I was you?”

As firmly as she could, she renewed her promise. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. And you’re going to remember a lot of this, when you get the chance. But not now. We need to go to the bridge. If we’re going to defend ourselves, we need to know what’s happening.

“Can you do it?”

Just for a moment, past his dark, distended features and threatening gaze, she caught a glimpse of her own father in him, the man he was named for.

“I can do it.”

Then the glimpse was gone. He looked like no one except Angus Thermopyle as he threw off his mask and rose to his feet.

Her heart shivered with love and abhorrence as she led him away.

When they reached the bridge, it seemed crowded. Mikka’s watch was still in place, and Vector Shaheed occupied the engineer’s station. But Nick had taken the command seat from Mikka, which left her nowhere to sit. And she wasn’t the only one on her feet. Liete Corregio stood nearby, along with the huge, clumsy brawler, Simper, who served as targ third, and Pastille, the rank, weaselly helm third.

Heads swiveled as soon as Morn and Davies stepped through the aperture. Vector’s mouth dropped open, perhaps in surprise at Davies’ resemblance to Angus; Alba Parmute gave the boy a quick glance of sexual appraisal. But Morn’s attention was instantly on Nick. At first she missed the way the other people looked at her: the hard glare in Mikka’s eyes; Liete’s shielded gaze; the targ third’s hunger; Pastille’s frank sneer.

Until she felt the force of their stares, she failed to notice the fact that all four of them wore guns.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Mikka asked Nick. “They aren’t going anywhere. Hell, they aren’t
trying
to go anywhere.”

“Do it,” Nick snapped without turning his head. “Lock them up. Separately. I haven’t got time to worry about them right now. And disable their intercoms. I don’t want them talking to each other.”

“Nick—!” Shock snatched a cry of protest out of Morn before she could stop herself.

In unison, Mikka, Liete, and the two men drew their impact pistols. Simper leered like he’d been given permission for some deliciously nasty self-indulgence.

“Nick”—Morn tried again, more carefully—“don’t do this. He can’t be alone right now. Let me at least talk to him. We need to talk. He still thinks he’s me. If he has to be alone with that, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Let him,” snarled Nick. “I don’t care how many minds he loses. You aren’t going to talk to him until I find out why you’ve been lying to me. In fact, you aren’t going to talk to him until I find a way to make sure you never lie to me again.

“If you don’t
shut up
and go, you’ll pay for it.”

The targ third grinned harder.

“Nick,” Scorz said unsteadily, “message from Enablement.”

Everyone froze.

“Audio,” Nick ordered through his teeth.

Scorz keyed his board. At once the mechanical voice said, “Enablement Station to presumed human Captain Nick Succorso, prepare to receive emissary.”

Nick sat up straighter.

“Trade is necessary. Speculation suggests negotiation will be”—a momentary pause—“delicate. Emissary will speak for the Amnion. To encourage negotiation, he will board your ship alone. Conformity of purpose will be achieved through the mutual satisfaction of requirements.”