by Jim Graham
‘But you are Earth-born, and you do have some experience in non-political affairs,’ Petroff replied, alluding to Scat’s military record. ‘As we said earlier, we need to know what’s going on, just to keep a lid on this until Earth can form a response. It would help to have someone like you on Trevon, and close to the independence faction.’
‘But how? I’m a nobody to them?’
‘Accepted. Unless we deport you on the V3—along with the rest of the Trevons. It’ll be our message to the station that we can’t trust you. You can use your initiative from that point on.’
‘And if they don’t catch on?’
‘There’ll be no harm done. If it goes tits-up, we could still use your expertise. And you’ll be in the right place.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘Look, Scat. I know this is all rather sudden and you could argue it has nothing at all to do with you, but we’re in a tight spot and things could get ugly before Earth catches on. And it’ll be even longer before Earth gets its act together. I’m kind of relying on your natural empathy with Earth, and you seeing that nothing good can come of Trevon declaring independence before Earth has a chance to work on some diplomatic solution. All I want is to give both sides the chance to talk it over—before either side does something from which it can’t return. I’m looking to prevent bloodshed, prevent chaos. Can you think on it?’
Scat could see the logic in Petroff’s argument and he had sensed a hint of sincerity in Petroff’s request. Despite the history lesson that Pierce had given him four hours ago, Petroff’s goal seemed sensible. The facts of both versions were the same, only the spin was different: Pierce emphasising the indifference (or oppression) of faraway government, and Petroff pleading for restraint until the far away government had a chance to moderate its behaviour.
‘I’ll give it some thought, sir. How long do I have?’
‘Three Hours. The V3 takes off in around four. We’ll need to do some prep.’
Scat nodded slowly, realising that that time was short: he still had to make sense of a sane man’s suicide.
Petroff took the nod for an agreement. He got up and headed to the door, hiding a pleased look on his face. As with the others, this young man truly didn’t have many options. At least not viable ones.
Only Scat wasn’t finished.
‘And if I decline your offer?’
Petroff checked himself at the door. He killed the smile before turning around.
‘Again, there’ll be no harm done,’ he said. ‘You serve out your contract as normal and steer clear of the politics.’ He gave Scat a rock-solid stare to leave him in no doubt that there was to be no debating the issue. ‘But remember,’ he felt it best to add, ‘despite the good you will be doing everyone, there will be considerable upsides for you if you agree. We don’t just rely on patriotism and thank people with medals.’
Petroff noticed Scat’s eyes widen a little: not by much, the man was obviously trying hard not to give too much away. But it was enough. Petroff felt his smile returning.
Money always did help to nudge things in the right direction.
18
Patch had plucked up the courage to speak to Angolena, and Angolena had done no more than frown and tell Patch to let it rest until he had finished the autopsy.
Scat was not surprised.
‘As I said, there’s no point in beating yourself up about this until you know more about it. Besides, it’s Geoffrey’s fault as much as yours, if there’s fault to be had.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Patch replied, but his bloodshot eyes revealed the extent of his worry. The crease between his eyes dominated a narrow forehead.
‘Any way we can get into the medical records from outside the centre?’ Scat asked.
‘Why?’
‘There’ll be a record of incoming mail. If it did arrive when you say it did, then the log will prove it. If not, then it won’t.’
Patch’s head went back a little.
‘Are you saying that it didn’t come in during my watch? Patch asked. ‘The receipt stamp is pretty clear it did.’
‘I’m not saying anything,’ Scat replied. ‘Merely aiming to prove the facts. Then we can move on.’
‘Well, we can review the records from my bunk. I have 24-hour access. But I don’t think I have the authority to check IT logs.’
‘Leave that to me,’ Scat said. ‘Meet me there in 20 minutes.’ He then turned to leave. ‘I’m going to look for some expertise.’
20 minutes later, Scat, Patch and Thomas Irwin sat at a small desk lowered from the sidewall over Patch’s bed. The overhead light flickered periodically, and the air-conditioner hummed along gently in the background.
Irwin had been quick to help. He was busy running through some programming, offering a commentary to reassure Patch that his work would go unnoticed if someone should check.
‘Bingo. I’m in. So, where do you keep the incoming mail?’ Irwin asked. His face was grim but composed.
Patch showed him a tab in the upper-left corner of the screen. Irwin clicked the tab, and a new screen appeared. Within a few seconds, he broke past the data packet that had accompanied the mail, and was into the system itself.
Irwin’s face beamed as he found what he was searching for.
‘Not sent as stated,’ he declared. ‘It was dropped in during the third watch, today.’
‘Around the time Pierce vented?’ Scat asked.
Irwin pushed his chair back from the table to give Scat and Patch a little more room to view the monitor. He then rattled off the sequence as he read the system data:
‘It arrived in the in-box a little while before Pierce vented, but it wasn’t displayed until afterwards. It was set up to be displayed as “read” on arrival, and it was date stamped and filed for three days ago.’ He then looked up. ‘Am I confusing anyone? Someone had to know what they were doing.’
No one said anything so Irwin made an assumption:
‘I guess whoever it was didn’t want it to appear too early just in case medical picked up on it and brought him in for a check-up.’
‘But someone still had to drop the suicide watch request into Pierce’s paper file.’ Patch said, trying hard to keep up with the implications.
‘Did Geoffrey come by medical after Pierce vented?’ Irwin asked.
Patch looked down at the ground, deep in thought, trying hard to remember. He shook his head.
‘Not during my watch, though he may have been in since.’
‘You found the note during your watch, Patch.’ Irwin reminded him. ‘It doesn’t matter if he visited after that.’
Scat broke the silence that followed:
‘Patch, did anyone have access to the file during your last watch?’
‘No one did, except Angolena.’
‘Are you sure?’ Scat asked.
Patch sounded frustrated
‘How sure have I got to be, Scat? I only left the room for pee breaks.’
Irwin put a hand on Patch’s back to settle him down. Scat remained unconvinced. Despite the denial, Patch might not know for sure, and in any case, he appeared to be all over the place. Anyone could have walked in and dropped the note into the file while Patch was out of the room—especially with Angolena being so distracted at the time of the call.
He tried another tack.
‘Who brought Pierce back to the Centre?’ he asked.
‘Security did—they brought him over on an airbed.’
Irwin had an idea.
‘Maybe it would help if we could prove Geoffrey didn’t send the message,’ he suggested. ‘If he didn’t send it, then perhaps we can kill the “cover my arse” theory. That then leaves us with a possible murder. Only to prove if he did or didn’t, we need access to his terminal.’
‘Or we could just talk to him.’ Patch said.
Scat looked at Irwin.
‘Take Rumagee with you. Make nasty.’
‘He went as white as snow, Sc
at,’ Irwin explained 15 minutes later. ‘Found him in the media room watching a vid, thinking he was going to go unnoticed—like we couldn’t smell the starch in his shirt! Anyhow, we told the beggar that we knew he hadn’t followed up on the watch request, and he must have thought we were going to break his legs!’
Irwin smiled a broad Irish smile, as though it would have been a pleasure to do so.
‘But he says it was Translow who wanted you to keep an eye on Pierce, and he was just the messenger. Anyhow, he doesn’t own up to any suicide watch request made in his name. In his head he wasn’t even meant to send one.’
Scat ran a hand through his hair as he paced the small room.
‘Fark! I don’t know what’s worse: thinking Pierce committed suicide or believing Corporate, or security, might have killed him.’
‘Why would anyone want to kill him?’ Patch asked, now feeling somewhat relieved for being exonerated. He was almost ready to smile again. ‘Unless it was to get back at him for telling us what the rest of the universe already knew about.’
‘I’m not sure, Patch,’ Scat replied, still thinking it over. ‘Look, keep this to yourself for now. Under NO circumstance do you let on that you know anything. If it happened the way we think it did, it’ll be better for you to play dumb, OK?’
Patch put his smile on hold: he suddenly realised he knew more than it was probably safe to know. In a quiet voice, he agreed.
‘Irwin, that goes for you too. Not even to Rumagee. As far as you are concerned, Geoffrey really did forget to follow up, and you don’t buy his bull about Translow. We think Geoffrey farked up. Pierce vented himself. Is everyone clear?’
‘Goes without saying …’ Irwin replied.
Scat made for the door.
‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got to speak to a man about a dog.’
With that, he left the room: certain of a conspiracy to commit murder but not yet certain whether the conspiracy started with Corporate, or security—or both.
And he had less than an hour to work that out before speaking to Petroff again.
19
On his way out of Patch’s bunk, Scat checked on Marvin’s whereabouts. He was chatting to a few friends in the common room, his bags packed and stacked beside him. Scat floated around the edge of the group and caught Marvin’s eye. Instinctively Marvin knew Scat wanted to talk about Pierce. He gave his friends an excuse and pulled himself away.
‘Pierce?’ Marvin asked.
‘Yes. He was murdered—by Corporate or security. The jury’s out on who exactly, but it’s a slam-dunk one or other did it.’
Marvin raised a calming hand; there was no point in anyone else hearing this. The news had been making the rounds. There were already several theories. But there had been nothing to add weight to any of them.
‘Well no one believes it was a suicide,’ he said, ‘but how can you be sure?’
Scat could see Marvin’s face begin to flush—it was obvious Pierce’s death was a personal loss for him and he was suppressing his anger. Scat hurriedly took him through the sequence of events, and when he was done, Marvin asked him to sit with him.
‘Walk me through it, again, but more slowly.’
He did. He saw Marvin's eyes flicker from left to right as he looked at the floor. When he was finished, Marvin looked up.
‘Is Thomas of the same opinion?’ he asked.
‘Yes. We know its murder, but not who did it.’
Marvin put finger tips to his eyes as he thought it through. He did not speak for a few moments. He then dropped his hands to his knees.
‘Maybe we do, Scat. Think. Who put the suicide watch protocol together?’
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘OK. Well, it was the medical centre, at the request of Corporate, so both of them would know the protocol backwards by now. The point is once someone makes a watch request, protocol says it must be followed up within two hours. Was it chased?’
‘No. No evidence it was.’
‘Well, had Corporate used the suicide watch request to line him up for a murder, it would have followed the protocol to the letter. But as you explain it, someone’s backtracking and filling in the gaps, post event. That tells me that it was someone else: someone who’s been all over medical since they arrived.’
The penny dropped. Scat’s expression hardened.
‘Fark! It was Petroff! I told him about the request, and the toe-rag went and used it.’
Scat stared at the corridor leading to the administration centre where Petroff had last met him. His mind was dark with violent thoughts.
Marvin must have seen the change in him. He offered him some advice.
‘Scat, be very careful. There’s a lot at stake here.’
‘I’m fast becoming aware of what’s at stake, Marvin.’ Scat replied, turning to face him. ‘Petroff is playing dirty and for keeps. He’s nipping this thing in the bud with a chain saw. But why Pierce?’
Something in the way in which Marvin shifted on his seat suggested he was trying to choose his words carefully.
‘If you think about it, it’s obvious. No one else had the balls to hack the central computer. He stood up and faced corporate down. Then there was the work stoppage. He could have claimed credit for it all. Petroff was slaying a potential leader—a potential rebel leader.’
‘Well,’ Scat replied, pausing to remember what Petroff had said. ‘I’ve less than an hour to decide what I’m going to be for the foreseeable future—rebel or patriot. But Petroff is thinking more along the lines of me being either a patriot or a private citizen. He says I can go about my normal business up here if I opt out, but now I’m not so sure.’
‘Go along with what he wants, Scat.’ Marvin advised.
‘What?’
‘Go along with it. Get yourself to Trevon. Learn some more. Murder is still murder, in uniform or out of it so Corporate can’t condone it and Petroff’ll not want loose ends. If he thinks you know, he’ll try to get rid of you. Up here, you’ll have nowhere to hide. Trevon is so much larger than this place, and it’s Earth-similar. If you need to disappear, it’ll be easier. I can introduce you to people.’
Scat stared at him. He was not expecting that advice.
‘But do you think Petroff will believe me if I tell him I’m on board? It’s as though he can see right through you when he talks to you. He doesn’t even blink. It’s unnatural. He doesn’t know we’ve rumbled him yet, but he could find out easily enough—I’ll be leaving people behind who may it let slip.’
Marvin shook his head.
‘Maybe they won’t be left behind, Scat. They’ve already arrested some junior supervisors for helping Pierce hack the computer—they’ll be deported, along with the Trevon-born and PRs. Besides, I don’t think Petroff will stay on Prebos for long. He’s head of security for Lynthax. His office is on Trevon. He’ll leave Xin and a large contingent behind.’
Scat pushed back into his seat and sat in silence for a short while, mindful that he should already be reporting to Petroff, or soon, at any rate. The V3 would be leaving in a couple of hours. He needed to keep a better track of time.
‘Look Marvin, I want to make this clear: if I say “yes” to Petroff, it won’t be in favour of his cause—it’ll be to stay alive. At least if I’m alive I can make a choice for or against—if I need to, that is. I can’t base my decision on Petroff. Petroff isn’t Earth. He’s a bumped-up doorstop with a gizmo for brains.’
Marvin leaned forward slightly.
‘Fair enough, Scat,’ he said. ‘So run along. Get into Petroff’s knickers. Blow in his ear. Let him hear what he wants to hear. But you hear this: until the lads get back to Trevon, you can’t confirm it was murder. That would cause a riot. Keep it to yourself. I’ll speak to Irwin.’
Scat nodded. He could neither find the words to explain how he felt, nor think of anything funny to say to hide his growing unease. He was out of his depth in someone else’s future war.
‘Get t
o Trevon, Scat. Be on the V3. We’ll take it from there.’
Marvin patted Scat on the shoulder and then walked across to re-join his friends. Scat sat back and stared across the common room, mind blank. All he could hear in his head was a clock, ticking down another hour.
OK, Marvin. I’ll kiss Petroff’s butt, and we’ll see where it takes us.
20
Petroff let Scat do the talking. He wanted to see how convinced Scat was that he was following the best course of action. It was time for Scat to sell the idea back to him. Should he do so convincingly then he may prove to be of more use, and be more reliable, than Williams believed. Xin had expressed no opinion.
Besides, a series of alerts from Williams was proving a distraction. Allowing Scat to talk gave him time to think about a developing situation on the frigate.
‘—and it fits in with my plans, Mr Petroff. I’ll just be missing 18 months of being cooped up with a bunch of barrack room lawyers. The really interesting guys are the Trevons, and they’ll be gone. In any case, if I can avoid bone density loss, and still pick up my pay cheque and end-of-contract bonus, I’ll be happy. I’m not planning to stay in-system when I’m finished here.’
Scat had mentioned Earth’s right to talk it over with the Trevons before matters escalated, but it was clear the extra money was of more importance.
‘Fair enough, Scat,’ Petroff replied, putting a hand on Scat shoulder and guiding him to a chair at last.
Despite the distractions, he had been listening. Petroff took considerable pride in his multitasking skills. He looked at the clock above the door.
‘We need to make it fairly convincing, and we don’t have much time. I was thinking it might be enough for you to get a little physical with one of our techies when we replace the Trevons in life support. Or perhaps you could drop a trooper or two. We could then have you arrested. It would be enough.’
As well as be quite entertaining, he thought.
‘I’m not so sure I want to start a fight in micro gravity, Mr Petroff. Nothing goes according to plan when you bounce around these corridors. There’s not much sense in getting hurt so early on.’ Scat was alluding to the stun guns the troopers carried. Petroff doubted they could be lethal, but the heart does assume a different workload after a month and a half of low gravity, and Scat appeared worried by it.