Forbidden Knowledge by Stephen R. Donaldson Page A

hazard having the proof of her falseness in her possession. And she couldn’t go to her cabin, switch on the control, and then leave it behind. It wouldn’t work if she moved out of its range, and its transmitter wasn’t powerful enough to reach more than ten or twenty meters.
    She had to face the bridge with nothing but the tattered and unreliable resources she had left.
    It wasn’t far from the lift. Captain’s Fancy was a frigate, not a disguised destroyer like Starmaster —or even a masquerading orehauler like Bright Beauty , with much more space for cargo than crew. Except for her luxuries, Nick’s ship was built to a more compact scale. The outer levels converged on an opening like an aperture in the structural bulkhead; through the aperture was the command module.
    At need this command module could be sealed, even detached, from the main body of the frigate. In fact, the module could almost certainly function as a separate craft while the rest of the ship was operated from the auxiliary bridge.
    Urged gently ahead by Vector Shaheed, Morn crossed the aperture and entered the compact circle of the bridge.
    The perspective would have disoriented her if she hadn’t been familiar with it. She stood in a space like the cross-section of a cylinder, with her feet on the inner curve and her head toward the axis. In that respect, the bridge was no different than the rest of Captain’s Fancy: it was simply smaller. The floor swept up and arced over her head on both sides. Some of the bridge crew sat at their stations beside her, almost level with her; others appeared to hang upside down above her. But, of course, wherever she or anyone else stood, the floor was “down” and the axis of the cross-section was “up.” The big display screens for scan, video, data, and targ were built into the concave wall opposite the aperture. Their status lights winked green, but the screens themselves were blank. In all likelihood, Nick didn’t want Morn to have the information she could have gleaned from the displays.
    Vector and Morn gained the bridge beside Nick’s command station. Like everyone else on the bridge, Nick was in his g-seat; his hands rested on his board, tapping buttons occasionally with accustomed ease. Nevertheless Morn noticed at once—even before she tried to take an inventory of the people arrayed against her—that he hadn’t strapped himself in.
    Mikka Vasaczk stood near him, defenseless against any change in g.
    Which meant Captain’s Fancy was in no immediate physical danger. Otherwise Nick would have been preparing for maneuvers of some kind.
    “Nick,” Vector said with a nod like a little bow. Apparently nobody aboard called Nick “Captain.” “I was trying to seduce her with coffee. If you hadn’t interrupted me, I might have succeeded.” His smile remained mild, almost impassive.
    Nick’s was altogether different. It was fiercely happy; it gave the impression that he was baring his teeth.
    “That doesn’t worry me,” he said like a cheerful tiger. “If I didn’t do it, you would find some way to interrupt yourself. You like the process of seduction too much. You never actually want to succeed at it.”
    Vector didn’t attempt a rejoinder; he seemed absorbed by the implications of Nick’s insight. Still smiling, he walked up the curve to an empty seat and sat down in front of what was probably the engineer’s console.
    Morn was left alone beside Nick and Mikka.
    Belatedly she tried to take in the rest of the bridge.
    Apart from Nick, Mikka, and Vector, she counted five other crewmembers. Vector’s presence wasn’t necessary to the normal operations of the ship. That left six essential bridge positions: command, scan, communication, targeting and weapons, helm, and data and damage control. First, second, and third for each position: eighteen people altogether. Vector and his second brought the crew total to twenty. Vector’s “pup” was probably on duty in the drive space,