Gap [1] The Real Story: The Gap into Conflict Read Free Page A

prospect of what Angus might do if he were challenged. To Morn Hyland, of course. But also to whoever challenged him. He had a history of getting rid of his enemies. So instead of leaping to her rescue, Nick waited and plotted. He may have been a criminal or a rogue hero, an operative or a mercenary; but he certainly wasn’t stupid. And he had no taste at all for defeat.
    What he wanted—so the discerning cynics assumed—was to have Angus arrested by Security with the control to Morn’s zone implant in his pocket. Angus would get the death penalty; the implant would be removed; and then Morn Hyland would be free to give Nick Succorso the only reward he could possibly want.
    Herself.
    The hard part was to arrange for Angus to be arrested. He wasn’t an easy victim. Piracy, treachery, and murder were what he did best.
    Nevertheless Nick arranged it.
    Once again, the only explanations available were purely speculative. In the Station lockup, Angus wasn’t talking to anybody. And Nick Succorso and his crew were gone, taking Morn Hyland with them. But here speculation was on fairly solid ground. Knowing Nick, it was possible to guess with considerable confidence what he would do.
    His background was vague. His id files managed to look both perfectly legitimate and plainly spurious, revealing nothing. All most people knew was that one day he docked his pretty frigate, Captain’s Fancy , in Com-Mine Station, passed inspection, led his crew into DelSec, selected Mallorys Bar & Sleep apparently at random, and became a regular whenever he was on station. Only the men in the corners, the men who pried below the surface, heard how he had passed inspection.
    Being neither asleep nor blind, the Station inspectors had noticed almost immediately that Captain’s Fancy had a hole the size of a gaming table in her side.
    You’ve been hit, they said. That looks like matter cannon fire.
    It is, he replied.
    Why were you being shot at?
    I wasn’t.
    No? The inspectors suggested intense skepticism.
    No. I was trying to get inside one of those awkward asteroids—too small for heavy equipment, too big to be chewed up by hand-cutters. So I decided to try blasting it apart. Somehow, the beam dispersion hit a glazed surface and reflected back. Nick grinned amiably. I shot myself.
    That doesn’t sound very plausible, Captain Succorso. Hand over your computer’s datacore, and we’ll verify your story.
    No, he said again. Now his grin didn’t look so amiable. I’m not required to let you look at my datacore unless you have evidence of a crime. That’s the law. Has there been a crime?
    In the end, Nick passed. The ship that shot him must have been burned out of space in return, so it was never able to report that a crime had been committed.
    Smiling to make DelSec’s women’s hearts flutter, basking in the devotion of his crew, and spending money as if he had a UMC credit line, he settled into Mallorys and concentrated on enjoying himself while Captain’s Fancy was repaired. He seemed to have a talent for enjoying himself, and his good humor—like his unmistakable virility—was infectious. Only people who watched the scars under his eyes could tell that he was engaged in anything more serious than a continuous carouse. And in Mallorys that “anything” could be only one thing: he was listening, sifting, sorting, evaluating; making contact with sources of information.
    Whenever he left Com-Mine Station, he left suddenly. And when he came back, he celebrated.
    By some coincidence, unfamiliar ships had a tendency to go “overdue” while he was away.
    Even a null-wave transmitter could have predicted that everything inside Nick would leap up at the sight of Morn Hyland. If he was a pirate, he was the glamorous kind, the kind who slashed and burned his way to virtue in romantic videos. And she was beautiful and pathetic—a maiden in distress if ever there was one, abused and helpless. Not to mention the fact that she belonged to someone