Kevin's Watch

"Sit down," Angus muttered over his shoulder. "I'm concentrating."

Milos coasted two meters to Angus' side. Carefully he pulled himself close to Angus until their heads almost touched.

"Joshua." His voice was soft, but distinct. "I'm going to give you a standing order. Jerico priority." That was the highest authority Milos could assign to his instructions. According to Lebwohl, only the most fundamental commandments in Angus' datacore would override a Jerico priority order. "When I tell you to open your mouth, you will always obey. You won't wait to hear the word 'Joshua.'" To be on the safe side, he added, "After that, you'll chew and swallow normally. And you'll follow this order without letting it interfere with anything else you have to do."

The idea that these words were being recorded in Angus' datacore--that Dios or Lebwohl might find out about them--didn't bother Milos. He was more interested in the extent to which Angus' programming allowed him to protect himself from damage. Jerico priority was supposed to override any instinct less compelling than self-preservation.

Angus tapped a couple of keys on his board and checked one of his readouts as if he weren't listening.

An uncharacteristic grin stretched Milos' face as he breathed, "Open your mouth."

Angus opened his mouth.

Carefully Milos dropped his burning nic onto Angus' tongue.

A flash of recognition lit Angus' eyes--a black glare of hate. His toadlike face twisted in a spasm of pain. Autonomic revulsion made his hands twitch.

Nevertheless he chewed the nic briefly; swallowed it. After flexing for a moment, his hands went back to his board.

"Enjoy it," he whispered thickly, as if the pain stiffened his tongue. "It won't last."

"Yes, it will. You know it will." For some reason, Milos still felt endangered. His power over Angus should have calmed him, but it didn't. Deep in his guts, where common sense and rationality never reached, he feared that Angus' essential malignance was indomitable. Unfortunately he couldn't undertake a more elaborate reassurance right now. "Bluffing me is a waste of time," he asserted in an effort to disguise his apprehension. "I've never been as stupid as you think I am."

"Is that right?" Angus slurred. "Then I guess you knew all along that I could have proved you were in collusion with Succorso whenever I wanted. I guess you knew I was doing you a favor by keeping my mouth shut. That's why you were so fucking grateful. All that stun and beating and abuse was just your sweet way of saying thanks."

"Oh, stop it." In disgust, Milos drifted back to the second's station. "I tell you, you can't bluff me. DA trained me for this. I know what you can do and what you can't. Probably better than you do." He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and Angus: if he'd been willing to miss Operations' answer, he would have left the bridge. Pulling his weight down by the straps, he secured himself in his g-seat. "If you cold have proved anything like that--if you even suspected it--you would have sung your head off about it."

"Bullshit!" Angus grinned like a sneer. "Who says you don't care what I do? Even if the Bill is brain dead, he's bound to realize he needs to know what's going on here. If you fry me, he won't learn anything. And if I decide to go somewhere else, he won't learn anything. Either way, you'll be a prime candidate for some BR 'improvements.' If you haven't already had them.

"So pay attention. I don't want to go through this more than once. And put a stress monitor on my transmission so you can at least guess I'm telling the truth.

"I was in lockup on Com-Mine. A life sentence for stealing Station supplies. You heard that part right. But Security was pissed because they couldn't convict me for anything worse. They assigned Deputy Chief Milos Taverner to break me. Tear me apart and dig out"--Angus snarled the words--"my innermost secrets.

"That didn't work, so after a while the cops--the United Mining Companies fucking Police themselves--decided to take over." Angus probably didn't need the help of his zone implants to lie as calmly as he told the truth. "They reqqed me, took me to UMCPHQ. Along with Milos here, since he presumably knew more about me than anybody else. I guess this new Preempt Act gave them the authority. And maybe they were glad Milos didn't break me. Maybe they wanted to keep what I know for themselves."

Milos dropped his nic on the deck and lit another, hiding the tremors of his hands with smoke.

"This is where it gets interesting," Angus continued. "I've done a lot of things in my life, but the one they convicted me for I didn't do. I was framed. If you don't believe me, ask Captain Succorso. He's in dock there, right? Ask him. He set me up. And eventually the cops figured out that if Succorso set me up, he must have had help. From Com-Mine Security.

"Now Milos knew he was in trouble. He provided the supplies Succorso used to frame me. They must have been working together for years. It was only a matter of time until the cops nailed him. So his little scam was finished. The cops were going to catch him--as soon as they broke him they were probably going to execute him for his crimes.

"He didn't like that much. But how could he get out of it? He was stuck in UMCPHQ. He never expected to be reqqed, so he hadn't planned an escape. He can't run a ship himself. What else was he going to do? Before the cops revoked his clearances, he got me out. We went to the docks, jumped Trumpet's crew, and used their id tags to get ourselves aboard. Then we used his codes to clear her for a training run. Before UMCPHQ knew what was going on, we hit the gap and came here. End of story.

"How do you like it?" Angus asked sardonically.

On an impulse that resembled panic, Milos keyed his own pickup and said to Angus so that Operations would overhear him, "They don't have to like it. Don't be so hostile. We can't go back. All they have to do is let us stay."

He thought Angus was going to cut him off. But Angus left both pickups active as he growled, "Oh, shut up, Milos. You're just making it worse."

Milos flushed involuntarily. This was simply another calculated gambit in Angus' game with Operations. In all likelihood, both he and Operations already knew what the outcome would be. Only Milos himself was left to sweat in ignorance and dread.

It was time for him to crush out the spark of dangerous enthusiasm in Angus' eyes, time for him to erase the look of malign hope on Angus' face.
The longer he allowed Angus to experience anything other than hopeless domination, the more precarious Milos felt.

Thanatos Minor had the firepower to laugh at any gap scout, no matter how many secret weapons she carried. Human ships all around the installation would protect it. And--Milos had already gleaned this information from scan, as well as from Billingate's routine navigational transmissions--there were two Amnion warships in the vicinity of the rock.
If Operations refused to let Trumpet dock, Angus was in trouble.
Milos could solve that problem himself, if Angus failed. But he didn't want to. It would force his hand; coerce him to commit himself when he wanted to keep all his options open.

No, Milos couldn't wait. He should, but he couldn't. In the privacy of his bowels, he feared Angus too intensely, despite Hashi Lebwohl's reassurances.
...
An uncharacteristic grin stretched Milos' face as he breathed, "Open your mouth."
Angus opened his mouth.
Carefully Milos dropped his burning nic onto Angus' tongue.
A flash of recognition lit Angus' eyes--a black glare of hate. His toadlike face twisted in a spasm of pain. Autonomic revulsion made his hands twitch.
Nevertheless he chewed the nic briefly; swallowed it. After flexing for a moment, his hands went back to his board.
"Enjoy it," he whispered thickly, as if the pain stiffened his tongue. "It won't last."
"Yes, it will. You know it will." For some reason, Milos still felt endangered. His power over Angus should have calmed him, but it didn't. Deep in his guts, where common sense and rationality never reached, he feared that Angus' essential malignance was indomitable

"We have your ship id," Operations cut in. "Come on, Captain. You're supposed to be smart--if you really are Angus Thermopyle. You know what the problem is."
"Give me a hint," Angus retorted. "I've been out of circulation for a while. I don't know what's changed since the last time I was here."
"It's your ship id." Operations and Angus might have been playing a game which they both secretly enjoyed. "That's what the problem is. Trumpet. A Needle-class gap scout. Unarmed. A UMCP ship, it says here. Are you getting the picture, Captain? Do you understand now?"
"What I understand," Angus replied in a tone of belligerence which may have been feigned, "is that you aren't doing your job. I'll talk real slow so you can get a good recording. I'm Angus Thermopyle. I've been here before, so I know you can do a voiceprint comparison to verify that. My second is Milos Taverner. Until recently"--Angus grinned fiercely at Milos--"he was deputy chief of Com-Mine Station Security. You can talk to him if you want, but it won't do you any good. He hasn't been here before.
"Call me back when you're sure who I am. Then maybe you'll ask some questions smart enough for me to answer.
...
They'll call again when they're ready to talk." Angus didn't sound worried. "They've already done their voiceprints. They're just shitting us to see how we react."
Milos sucked on his nic and did his best not to worry. Of course Billingate was suspicious. So of course Angus' programming had been written to deal with Billingate's suspicions. There was nothing to worry about.
Milos worried anyway.

A slight intensification of Angus' posture warned him an instant before the speakers relayed, "Trumpet, this is Billingate Operations. It's time for answers. And you'd better make them good. We're in no mood for crap."

"Bullshit!" Angus grinned like a sneer. "Who says you don't care what I do? Even if the Bill is brain dead, he's bound to realize he needs to know what's going on here. If you fry me, he won't learn anything. And if I decide to go somewhere else, he won't learn anything. Either way, you'll be a prime candidate for some BR 'improvements.' If you haven't already had them.

Milos should have kept his mouth shut: he knew that. But he couldn't. He had too much tension in him; he was too dependent on people he didn't understand and couldn't control. Fighting to keep his voice flat, he asked for the second time, "Now what?"
Angus' grin was as sharp as a taunt. "Now they're going to talk to your buddy, Captain Sheepfucker himself."
Milos tried to think of everything he knew about Nick Succorso; tried to imagine what orders DA had given Captain's Fancy. Doubtfully he asked, "Will he back you up?"
Angus swore. "Of course not." Nevertheless his voice carried a note of grim satisfaction as he added, "Which is exactly why they're going to let us come in."
Milos couldn't restrain himself. "That doesn't make sense."
"Sure it does. You're just too stupid to see it." Angus' yellow eyes were full of threats. "Look at this from the Bill's point of view. He's got two Amnion warships on his hands. Captain's Fancy is in--and she came from deeper in Amnion space, from Enablement Station. So Captain Sheepfucker has been screwing with them somehow. That's why those warships are here. They may even be after Donner's precious Morn Hyland." Angus said her name like a curse. "The Bill is already up to his hips in shit he didn't ask for and doesn't want.
"Now suddenly we arrive." More and more, Angus' explanation itself sounded like a threat. "About the best thing you can say for us from his point of view is--we're dangerous. Especially at a time like this. But now we're linked to Captain Sheepfucker. We claim he'll back up our story. Sure as hell looks like we're here because of him, doesn't it?
"As soon as Succorso refuses to confirm us, the Bill won't have any choice. He'll have to bring us in. Once we're docked, he'll have us under control.

At last Milos found the determination to stifle his questions. They betrayed too much: ever since he'd been cursed with the job of trying to break Angus, his questions had betrayed too much.

No matter how much he reminded himself that he still had secrets and options which Angus--and therefore Hashi Lebwohl--couldn't guess, every passing hour seemed to bring him more under Angus' power. He needed reassurance, needed it--
...
Scarcely ten minutes passed before Billingate spoke again.
"Trumpet, this is Operations," said the laconic voice. "You have permission to come in. Approach vectors and berth assignment follow."
Numbers began to scroll across the helm readouts.
"Don't keep me in suspense, Operations," Angus put in quickly. "What did Captain Succorso say about me?"
"Pay attention," Operations snapped. "I'm not done. You have permission to come in, but it's conditional. You won't be allowed to leave until you satisfy us."
"You mean"--Angus concealed his grin with a sour growl--"Captain Succorso refused to back me up?"
"He refused to talk to us at all
...
Then Angus hammered his board with one fist and snarled, "Got you, you bastards!"

"Joshua, stop what you're doing. Listen to me."
As obedient as a piece of equipment, Angus dropped his hands. He started to turn his head; but some instinct or prewritten commandment stopped him.

they haven't told you why I'm here."
A muscle spasmed in Angus' shoulder. He may have been fighting his zone implants.
"They think they have," Milos went on. "They think they've explained me well enough to let you function." And they think they know the truth, whether they told it to you or not. "But they're wrong. I've got my own reasons.
Milos here is trying to sound important. Perhaps for himself more than for Angus.
"Angus Thermopyle," he said from the bottom of his heart, "I loathe you. Your violence sickens me. Your person nauseates me. I despise your morals.

From the core of his bones to the ends of his nerves, Milos Taverner understood humiliation and control. For the first time in months--perhaps for the first time in years--he felt a moment of happiness. Dropping his ship-suit, he moved his grip from the back to the arm of Angus' g-seat. "It means," he said with a complex smile, "you're going to use that foul tongue of yours to keep me clean."
...
Later, when the dirtiness of his body and the fear in his soul had been relieved, he gave Angus a Jerico priority order which ensured that from now on Angus would allow him unrestricted access to Trumpet's communications.

Lefdmae Deemalr Effaeldm wrote:It's an interesting chapter, especially showing Milos in all his "glory", showing the zone implants in action, and the dynamics between Angus, the Bill and Nick Succorso.

Lord Foul wrote:The chapter begins with Milos once again fretting miserably over things completely beyond his understanding, let alone control. Still, he thinks it's within his ability to affect the course of events, that he's able to exert some sort of power.

It was time for him to crush out the spark of dangerous enthusiasm in Angus' eyes, time for him to erase the look of malign hope on Angus' face.
The longer he allowed Angus to experience anything other than hopeless domination, the more precarious Milos felt.

Lord Foul wrote:Yet he has more practical and immediate concerns.

Thanatos Minor had the firepower to laugh at any gap scout, no matter how many secret weapons she carried. Human ships all around the installation would protect it. And--Milos had already gleaned this information from scan, as well as from Billingate's routine navigational transmissions--there were two Amnion warships in the vicinity of the rock.
If Operations refused to let Trumpet dock, Angus was in trouble.
Milos could solve that problem himself, if Angus failed. But he didn't want to. It would force his hand; coerce him to commit himself when he wanted to keep all his options open.

Still, he fails to just wait patiently, and fails to reassure himself too.