Gap [1] The Real Story: The Gap into Conflict by Stephen R. Donaldson Page A

truth.
    “I knew exactly what to do. What I had to do. I didn’t question it.
    “I keyed the self-destruct sequence into the computer. That was supposed to blow up both drives. We would have been turned to powder.”
    “You aren’t an officer,” Angus objected. “You’re practically a kid. How did you know the self-destruct codes?”
    “We all knew the codes. Any one of us could do it. So Starmaster wouldn’t be captured. That was our first priority. Not be captured. Under any circumstances. If forbidden space got us—a ship like that—We can all be trusted. We’re all reliable. Most of us are family. They wouldn’t let anybody who wasn’t reliable on a ship like that.
    “But fa—Captain Hyland caught what I was doing. He tried to abort. Only the thrusters exploded. I could hear him yelling at me over the intercom—yelling at me because I was his daughter and I was destroying his ship, I was destroying him. His sister and brothers. My cousins. Destroying them.
    “And then it wasn’t clear anymore. There wasn’t any vision. We weren’t in any danger. It was all a lie. I killed my whole family for no reason.”
    Fighting to contain her grief, she did her desperate best to shout, “Get me out of this suit!”
    He ignored the demand. “Stop whining. Let me think.” Suddenly he was sure of his suspicions. He’d taken a maniac aboard Bright Beauty , a human time bomb. And yet it didn’t make sense.
    “How many times have you crossed the gap?”
    “Twice,” she answered, cowed not by his irritation but by her own despair.
    “Twice,” he echoed viciously. “Of course. Cops like you have to be deep-space certified. So they test you in the Academy. To weed out the crazies who get gap-sickness. And then you had to reach Com-Mine Station. You’ve only crossed the gap twice because this is your first deep-space assignment. It doesn’t make sense.”
    But while he was still speaking, he guessed the truth. Gap-sickness came in every conceivable shape and disguise. He had heard of people who crossed the gap once—or even several times—and then lived perfectly normal lives until the right stimuli came along, until the right combination of circumstances occurred to trigger their personal vulnerability, their peculiar flaw.
    Combat? G-stress?
    “How many times”—he took hold of her face again, forced her gaze toward him—“have you been under heavy g since the first time you crossed the gap?”
    She gaped at him, anguish changing into comprehension in her eyes.
    “Answer me. You did all kinds of g work in the Academy. They trained you for everything they could think of. Did you do that before or after your first gap crossing? When was the last time you were under heavy g?”
    “Before,” she husked weakly. Her voice seemed to stick in her teeth. “The gap comes last. Only if you want to crew in deep space. Earth can’t afford to risk people who want to work in-system. Can’t risk wasting all that training and expense for people who aren’t going to be in any danger.”
    She must have understood what he was getting at, because she concluded with thin, cracked lucidity, “Chasing you was the first time I’ve been under heavy g since before my first crossing.”
    “Great. Wonderful.” Angus tried a few obscenities, but they seemed inadequate. “Bitch. I never should have rescued you. I must have been out of my mind. It’s not bad enough you’re a fucking cop. And a witness. It’s not bad enough you’re going to turn me in the first chance you get. On top of that, you’re going to go crazy and try to kill me as soon as we hit heavy g.” He gouged his fingers into the sides of her face, then released her. “I should have left you to die.”
    Again she surprised him. Her gaze steadied, and her voice gave an improbable suggestion of strength, of sarcasm. “It’s not too late. You can still kill me. No one will ever know.”
    A smile stretched his features, making him look more than ever