by Simon Kewin
“Delegate Palianche was slaughtered where he sat by that monster, Pannax Ro. Such a cowardly and brutal act is only what we would expect from the butcher of the Achenar. You should never have allowed her anywhere near these peace talks.”
Sorabai put a restraining hand on Emchek's arm. “We do not know that Ro was responsible, however likely it seems. We must wait for proof before we act.”
Emchek shook the shorter Gogoni's grip free. “They will try and fail to find the proof. Even if they do find it, they will suppress it. Ro is cunning. She plans to eliminate her fiercest rival and then walk over us in these so-called peace talks. That will not be allowed to happen!”
Was it her imagination, or had Emchek grown? Gogoni body size may be an indication of social rank, but it took time for the relevant hormones to have their effect. Perhaps he'd been slouching previously to signal his subservience to Palianche. Magdi stepped forwards herself, eyes locked on Emchek's. The Gogoni responded to being challenged openly. To back down was a clear sign of weakness.
“You overstep your position,” she said, her voice raised a notch. “The investigation will be carried out under my control, and we will prove one way or another who is responsible for this killing.”
“You? You couldn't even protect the life of a single individual despite all the resources of Coronade and your damned galactic Nexus at your disposal. We trusted you, believed your assurances that this was safe ground, and where has that taken us? Delegate Palianche gets slaughtered before the talks even start. Is this how you carry out your negotiations? Allow anyone who might be a problem to be butchered?”
Magdi didn't move, didn't flinch. If it came to a fight, she might have the edge over the Gogoni and she might not, but she couldn't afford to back down. Emchek's fury blazed around his head in scarlets and purple-blacks.
“Tell me about your movements this morning,” she said. “You arrived at the Congress Hall with Palianche?”
Emchek looked like he might throw himself at her rather than reply.
“There's no secret to it,” said Sorabai, quickly. “Palianche always rose early. We were here at a little after the fivemark.”
“When did you leave?”
“The Delegate instructed us to return to our quarters at around six, while he conversed with Gogon.”
“Did you know that he intended to meet Pannax Ro?”
“No.”
“When did you return to the Congress Hall?”
“The moment we learned what had happened.”
“Did you see anyone else in the building?”
“No one. We left Delegate Palianche here alone and never saw him again.”
“Very well,” said Magdi. “You have my assurances that we will find out who killed him, and that we will make that information available to all concerned parties. Perhaps when we all know who is responsible, we can sit down and discuss what to do about Forge.”
She saw the calculation in Emchek's eyes, the moment when he came to his decision. “You really believe we are going to sit down with you or anyone else? Palianche sat down and look what happened. These talks are at an end. You have failed us, and we are leaving Coronade. We of Gogon will decide for ourselves what to do about Forge, and how best to take control of its mineral resources.”
Emchek grabbed his diplomatic bags, no doubt containing private Gogoni briefings and plans, and strode past her, deliberately barging her aside. His fury burned within him, but he was controlling himself, too. She'd thought him a shallow-minded fool, desperate to wage war on someone, anyone, but there was more to him than that. As he swept by, she caught a clearer glimpse of his mind. There was a bright light of intelligence there. Could she use that? Somehow persuade him of the wisdom of returning to the table once his fury had subsided? Perhaps. Perhaps not: she picked up, also, an undercurrent of fear. Presumably he and Sorabai had been sent to protect Palianche as much as anything, and clearly they'd failed. The fate awaiting them on Gogon might not be a good one.
Emchek left and Sorabai stood for a moment, caught by some indecision. Anger of his own burned within him, a red halo round his head. Magdi thought he was about to say something, but instead he followed Emchek, not catching her eye as he pushed past. He'd been tempted to keep the lines of communication open, perhaps, but had decided against it. His position in the Gogoni hierarchy was weak. She'd hoped he might be the voice of reason within the delegation, but clearly that wasn't to be.
Once they'd left, she hurried to the nearest access point to converse with Coronade again, cursing the lack of instantaneous communication. Restricted connectivity could be a huge advantage when it came to delicate discussions: it was so much easier to converse with a single individual rather than talking through them to a panoply of advisors or an entire governmental body, but it had its downsides, too.
“Have you heard anything from the Gogoni ship?”
“They're waiting for the two advisors to return, and they demand we hand over Palianche's remains immediately. They make it clear they will then request an egress vector and leave.”
“Stall them.”
“Even if I could, my projection is that to hold them here will do more harm than good. Their trust in this peace process and my impartiality will be destroyed.”
Coronade was correct, but it didn't make the fact any easier to take. The peace talks she was supposed to be controlling and directing had fallen apart without even starting. Only one delegate was left alive on the planet – and that was the one most likely to be the killer. In her frustration, she slammed her hand down onto the orb of the communication stalk, succeeding only in making her hand sting.
Magdi was at least satisfied to discover that the room set aside for the talks was being properly guarded by two City Marshals, as she'd instructed. Making an effort to control her emotions, she instructed one of them to search the Gogoni's rooms in the Congress Hall and the private quarters – although not to intrude if any Gogoni were still present.
“Can I go inside?” she asked the other. “I need to take a proper look at what happened here.”
“Let me check.” The riot-armoured Marshal stopped speaking for a moment, expression blank as she communicated brain-to-brain with someone inside, most likely Temen Zeb. After a few moments, the Marshal's eyes refocused on the physical world. “A bio-secure cordon has been established inside the room around this doorway. If you remain within that you won't jeopardize the investigations.”
“I understand. Has anyone else tried to get in or out since you've been here?”
“No one.”
“If they do, check with me, yes? Anyone who isn't with you.”
The Marshal indicated her acceptance with a curt nod and opened the door to allow Magdi inside.
Three Marshals stood within the bio-secure cordon, remotely scanning the surfaces of the room via the swarm of microsensors they'd unleashed. They monitored their findings via the projected three-dimensional data display that they stood around. The room through the faint shimmer of the sterile wall was pretty much as it was when she'd last seen it – apart from the body of Delegate Palianche that lay slumped forwards, arms outstretched, his ruined cranium neatly severed in two.
The other two chairs were, of course, empty, set where she'd placed them in readiness for the talks, each carefully configured for the form and biology of their delegate. She'd planned everything to an almost-obsessive degree; even something as ridiculous as an uncomfortable seat could make a difference. Each had its own localized microclimate, kept in place by invisible energy walls. Pannax Ro would have been as happy sitting in the room as Palianche.
She'd specified a triangular table for the talks: one side for each of the three worlds, with no chair for herself. It was a deliberate ploy: she'd wanted to force them to talk to each other rather than see her as an authority figure with all the answers. The solution had to be theirs, not imposed by Coronade – even though she had a very specific plan that she privately wanted them to come around to. She'd planned t
o walk around the room, make quiet suggestions, raise objections, encourage them onto the right path – or, perhaps, an entirely different path if it proved to be fruitful. It didn't look like any of that was going to happen now.
She watched the displays of data scrolling up on the investigators' virtual screens, the device's AI plotting charts and tagging possible items of interest to the investigating Marshals. Magdi let them work for a few moments, then intruded on Temen Zeb's attention.
“What can you tell me?”
The tall investigator deliberately took a beat to tear his gaze from the display before turning to face her. She let it slide; she didn't need to make trouble with the Marshals. “We're almost completely sure the Ambassador was killed by the blow to his cranium.”
Magdi thought he was making a joke at first – a black sense of humour had to be common enough in such a position as his – but her empathic senses told her otherwise. Zeb was being factual.
“There was some doubt about that?” Magdi asked.
“Obviously having his head sliced in two would be fatal, but we have to exclude the possibility that he wasn't already dead. An obvious cause of death is sometimes a good way to cover up a subtle one. In my experience.”
“And?”
“We've recovered some toxicology from his body that requires further analysis, but the post-trauma blood flow suggests the blow to the head was what killed him.”
“When did he die?”
“Around the sevenmark, maybe a few minutes before.”
“You're sure of that timing?”
“I wouldn't have said if I weren't. The moment of brain death is easy to pinpoint. He died within three minutes of the sevenmark.”
So, around the time Pannax Ro claimed to have found him. “Tell me more about this toxicology.”
“I can't give you any details at this point; I need to understand Gogoni biology better before I say anything for sure. It's possible I'm simply seeing normal body chemistry, but the other thing we've found suggests otherwise.”
“Other thing?”
Zeb held up an isolation cube between his thumb and a twig-like finger. A faint speck of black was held within the receptacle, too tiny for Magdi's eyes to make anything of.
“This was embedded in his flesh,” said Zeb, “well-concealed beneath one of his talons where his skin would be easier to penetrate. It's a microdrone, sometimes called a warbug or a warswarm. I'm not familiar with the design of this one, but it's the sort of device that could be used to deliver a contact amount of some highly toxic nerve agent.”
Zeb waved a hand at the data display, and a spinning three-dimensional representation of the tiny device appeared. It resembled an insectoid, a malevolent wasp perhaps. Wings and legs protruded from its segmented body, and a needle-sharp proboscis jutted from the cluster of sensors that made up its head.
“A weapon this tiny could deliver enough of a dose to kill him?” she asked.
“If the agent is toxic enough. Some of the devices don't deliver any poison as such; they inject a tiny amount of a carefully engineered viral vector that use the body's own cells and chemicals to fabricate the required quantities of active agent. A microscopic device like this could easily kill any one of us. They are vicious weapons, banned on most worlds.”
“Would you be able to identify who made this one?”
“In time. Designs evolve rapidly, and the manufacturers don't exactly go out of their way to publish their blueprints, but the Nexus contains a good database of known forms.”
“Do any of the worlds in the disputed system manufacture such objects?”
“I doubt it; weapontech like this is generally acquired from rogue worlds and outlaw operatives. People the Nexus worlds pursue relentlessly.”
“Would it be possible to deliver a toxin that simply incapacitates rather than kills using one of these?”
“Given the relevant biochemical knowledge – yes, although you must understand that I'm guessing to a degree; we rarely see devices like this on Coronade. I like to keep up to date, of course, but this is a first.”
Magdi studied the warbug. It was hard not to read malice into its form. “Have you found any others in the room?”
“None, and we've looked, believe me. It makes sense; you only need to release one of these per target. The warswarm name comes from the practice of unleashing a large number of the devices against an army or a civilian population. Again, I stress, this basically never happens in the worlds under the protection of the planetary Minds, but I've read about it occurring outside controlled space.”
“The devices can be targeted against a particular individual?”
“If you have their DNA or some other reliable biometric fingerprint. They're extremely effective assassin bugs.”
“If I wanted to acquire one, how would I go about it?”
“I have no idea. Shadowy networks of contacts, I imagine.”
“Would he have been targeted recently?”
“Not necessarily. The devices are easily programmable to activate given some trigger: a location or a time. He might have been carrying the bug without knowing it when he arrived.”
“We must check for illegal tech like this.”
“Most people are thoroughly scanned, but that's another thing the diplomatic population and off-world envoys are spared. Any of the delegates could have brought the device with them. Come to that, so could you.”
He was doing his best to keep his resentment about his lack of jurisdiction over her under control. It had to be a source of resentment that she was now commanding him.
“Let me know the moment you identify the source of this device,” Magdi said. “Have you found anything else of interest? Any traces of other individuals in the room?”
“Again, we're hampered by not having biometric data for the diplomatic population. We've identified recent DNA markers from six unknown individuals: three from Gogon, one each from Sejerne and Arianas, plus a single Periarch. Which, I assume, is you, although I'd need samples to confirm.”
“You can have them, but you don't need them; my DNA will be all over this room. I also know for sure that the three delegations have visited this room, although not at the same time. You can presumably tie one of the traces to Palianche.”
“If I'm allowed to do so?”
“Do it. I'll also request biometric samples from his two assistants, as well as Ambassador Vol Velle and General Ro. I cannot, of course, guarantee they will comply.”
“No.”
“Any other traces? People you can identify?”
“Several individuals who have a perfectly legitimate reason to be in here. Long-standing residents of Coronade with no ties to the disputed system.”
“Nevertheless, I assume you'll pursue each of them as possible leads.”
“Of course.”
Magdi turned back to consider the room. It was hard not to dwell on the neatly sliced hemisphere of Palianche's brain. The whole set-up appeared to be so – what was the word? – staged. Perhaps it was the ritual-killing Ro had suggested.
Magdi asked, “Can we be sure he was killed there? That he was sitting at the desk when the blow was inflicted?”
That was clearly a question that fell more within Zeb's normal area of expertise. “I'd say yes, definitely. If he'd suffered such major trauma elsewhere and then been carried into this room – or even if he'd been killed in a different part of the room – it would be obvious from the residues and markers on the floor and other surfaces. I can be very sure that didn't happen. He was sitting exactly there when the blow fell. I can also tell you that he was sitting upright at the fatal moment.”
“How?”
“There's evidence of impact damage to his face. He was sitting straight, the attack came, and he slumped forwards hitting what remained of his head. Marks on the desk bear that out.”
“What do you make of the outstretched arms? If he died instantly and fell forwards, he wouldn't have had time to lift his limbs
.”
“I assume he had his arms raised at the moment of the blow. Perhaps he was attempting to fend off the fatal strike.”
Or indicating he was unarmed: the code of Gogoni military honour said that a victim unable to put up a fair fight couldn't be attacked. Ro, on the other hand, would have had no such hang-ups.
“Thank you,” said Magdi, “you've been helpful. Please continue as you see best.”
Zeb's nod was curt, lacking all warmth. “I will do what I can given the lack of hard data available to me.”
“If you need anything, contact me or the Coronade Mind. You must understand this is not a normal murder. Many more lives are at risk here – perhaps millions of lives. We must get to the truth, of course, but there is also the wider pictures to consider. If, somehow, it is possible for the peace talks to continue, then we need to do everything possible to allow that to happen.”
She didn't need to be an empath to see how that suggestion riled Zeb. For him it was simple: here was a murder, and the person responsible had to be brought to justice.
“Are you suggesting we might need to conceal the truth,” he asked, “and cover up a killing by delegates from another world? Tell me, Conciliator Magdi, exactly how many other people have to be at risk before a murderer is allowed to get away with it?”
Magdi fixed Zeb with her steeliest gaze. “Do your job and let me worry about the complexities of interplanetary politics. Find out who did this, and let me know.”
Five
Back in her room, wanting some to time to sit down and assess, and needing to fill in a few gaps in her understanding, she fired off a few enquiries to the Coronade Mind, simple searches that didn't require the intervention of the controlling AI. Pannax Ro had, indeed, left her quarters a little after six, and had arrived at the Congress Hall just before seven. From the track of her movements, she'd been in no apparent hurry, taking the time to look at interesting architecture along the way. There were a few images catching Ro by chance as she passed cameras trained on popular tourist locations. It looked like Ro was almost dawdling: the Fleet General walked with her familiar military stride, almost a march, but she stopped more than once to take in the sights. She didn't appear to be carrying anything that might be a concealed energy-weapon – although the devices could be small and easily-hidden.