W Michael Gear

by The Artifact (v3. 1) (epub)

  “Then the stories are true?” Archon gasped. “These ships are sentient?”

  “Boaz, considering the security clearance the Speaker is entitled to, would you like to answer that?”

  “Speaker Archon, it is a pleasure to meet you. In answer to your question, yes, I am sentient. I think and act on my own. Should every member of the crew become incapacitated, I have the ability to make decisions concerning the completion of the mission.”

  Archon shook his head. “No! Impossible!”

  “From my perspective I am entirely possible since I exist—unless you would retreat to solipsism in which case I would like you to prove to me that you are sentient,” Boaz intoned.

  “Speaker,” Sol demanded in light of the consternation on Archon’s face. “Did you hear the report of a weapon when you were standing there last night? It would have been a click, a pop, or something similar. The weapon may have been spring powered.”

  “Your ship heard nothing?” Archon asked, mouth open, slightly dazed.

  “Play the audio, Boaz. ”

  Instantly, the room filled with laughter and small talk, the soft noise that makes up a social gathering. “That’s it. Do you remember anything?”

  “No, Captain.” Archon shook his head.

  “What emotions do our suspects show, Boat?”

  “They are all calm, Captain. From previously established curves, none exhibit abnormal excitement or anger. We must assume, if the murderer is indeed one of the seven, that the individual displays pathological tendencies with regard to murder.”

  Sol’s face twisted. “I had hoped it would turn out to be Mikhi Hitavia. Now I think we were supposed to believe Hitavia was the culprit. If you think back to Ngoro’s warning, however, he told us we were dealing with a remarkable mind. The assassin didn’t know we had the visual monitors placed in the lounge. Happy did a very good job of hiding them. Looks like the rheostat for brightness control in the lighting.”

  “So now what?” Archon asked.

  “Now we interview the suspects, what else?” Sol turned to comm.

  “Do you think that’s wise? I mean you’ll tip your hand . . . that the ship monitors everyone. Who will speak freely? Who will-”

  Sol whirled, a finger stabbing out. “Speaker, another man has just been murdered on my ship. Now, I played along, followed orders, but unless you want to relieve me of command and confine me to quarters this very instant, I’m putting a stop to it. IVe thought it out. Faced with the scene—with the very damning evidence before them—I’m betting Boaz can pick up a reaction. If I had my way, I ‘d put them all under psych and have it out of them. I can’t. Not without an interstellar incident that could jeopardize the Craft. So I’m doing it this way, attempting to shock them into a confession.”

  Archon took a deep breath, face lined with worry. “I ... Very well, Captain. No, I won’t relieve you of command. I ... Yes, yes, go ahead.” He slapped hands on his knees in resignation.

  “Boaz, ask Origue Sanchez if he would be so kind as to join me in my cabin.”

  The ambassador entered smiling, muttered how pleased he was to be there, and Sol hit him with the question. “Did you kill Paul Ben Geller, Ambassador?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sanchez’s eyes were blank. “Did you ask if I killed Paul?”

  “Please look at the picture. Do you remember that moment last night? You are sitting with Elvina Young. Did you hear the report of a weapon?”

  “Weapon?” Origue was still confused. He shot a quick look at Archon for confirmation.

  “Please, Origue,” Archon nodded to the picture. “That’s the moment of Paul’s murder. He was assassinated.”

  Sanchez blinked in disbelief. “Why would I kill Paul? No. I ... never. I mean . . .”

  “Did you hear the report of a weapon?”

  Origue stared openmouthed at the scene. “Weapon? Assassination? Here, on this ship?”

  “Report, Boaz. ” Printout flimsy ejected.

  “Clean bill of health,” Sol remarked. He looked up. “Ambassador, you don’t know it, but you just went through a lie detector test. I’m afraid it’s true. Paul has been killed by an unknown assassin. I’m confining everyone to their quarters until we can find the killer and bring him to justice. If you would return to your room and remain there, I would appreciate it. Please, say nothing to anyone about this.”

  Sanchez left, still trying to comprehend what had happened.

  Elvina Young came slipping in—didn’t see Archon— and threw herself into Sol’s arms. “Oh, Captain, I just knew you’d invite me to your quarters.” She closed her eyes, chest heaving. “I’ve been dying to feel your arms around me. Of course, I could never leave Joseph—but you know how a woman is! I know you’ve longed for me, but-”

  “Mrs. Young!” Sol snapped. “I did not call you for an assignation! Did you kill Paul Ben Geller?”

  She stepped back, saw Archon, and gasped. “Oh, my word! I didn’t see you, Speaker. I think I feel faint!”

  “Did you hear my question?” Sol asked.

  Elvina blushed bright red, “It’s not what you must think, Speaker. You know how silly women can be! The good Captain is simply a friend of mine. Why, even a woman deserves a good friend. There wouldn’t be anything between us. Why, the Captain is a man of honor1 And me, why, I am a married woman . . . and happily so.”

  Archon nodded. “I understand that perfectly. Would you answer the question? Did you kill Paul Ben Geller?”

  “Is he dead?” she asked, giggling nervously. “Is this some little joke?”

  “No, it isn’t. We’re trying to find an assassin,” Sol said stiffly.

  “Assassin?” She drew the syllables out. “On this ship? There’s an assassin on this ship?” Her voice became high-pitched. “He might kill me?” She flew into Sol’s arms again. “Oh, Captain, you must find him! Why, no one is safe. You’ll keep me safe? Oh, dear Lord in heaven, I feel faint!” She threw an arm up to her forehead.

  “Easy, Mrs. Young,” Archon soothed, seeing Sol’s perplexed expression as he shoved the woman off. “Have a seat and look at the picture.”

  Elvina allowed herself to be led to the chair. “Paul was killed by a lethal glass projectile. Did you see anything, hear anything like a click or a pop?”

  “Assassination? It could have been me. Don’t you see? I might have been killed!”

  “Mrs. Young!” Carrasco thundered. “Settle down and think! What did you see?”

  “I ... I ... Assassins? And I’ve been rubbing elbows with a hideous murderer? What if Joseph . . . Will we be safe?”

  “Yes, yes, quite. We’re trying to catch the culprit now. Did you hear anything?” Archon asked, stooping down before her.

  Eyes wide, she stared at the scene, shivering, features going pale. “No.”

  “Thank you. You may go to your quarters.” Sol palmed the hatch and smiled.

  “Alone?” she asked, terrified.

  “You’ll be quite safe, I promise.” Sol practically pushed her out.

  “Boaz?”

  “Captain, she went from one emotional peak to another. Responses ranged from extreme excitement to fear,” the ship intoned. “I must say, she entered the room full of anticipation. From the flush I would imagine she thought—”

  “Thank you, Boaz!” Sol snapped.

  “There goes that one,” Archon muttered, eyes straying uneasily to the speaker. “Boaz would have picked something up in the lounge considering her emotional instability.”

  Nikita Malakova came in laughing and jovial.

  “Did you kill Paul Ben Geller?” Sol asked.

  “Of course!” Nikita roared. “What? You are playing some new kind of game?” Nikita looked satisfied with himself. “Good day, Speaker! I was meaning to look you up. What you think about allowing emigration to Star’s Rest from Gulag? We need to have new markets and some of my people have crazy idea to go groundhog.”

  “Look at the picture.” Sol pointed. “Do you reme
mber that from last night?”

  “But of course. I’m arguing with Paul.” He stopped, finger dropping from where he’d been pointing. Malakova’s expression hardened, thick black brows furrowing. “Wait. You said Paul is dead?”

  “Assassinated. That was the moment when it happened,” Archon added.

  Nikita’s face went pale. “No!” he breathed. Slowly he walked forward, studying the picture intently. Finally he nodded. “And I am suspect! I see. Whatever you need, Nikita Malakova will help you. If you must, Captain, search my room while I am here. In this instance, even Gulagi like I have nothing to hide.” He looked back at the screen. “But who could have killed Paul? Why would they do this? Doesn’t make sense unless . . .” He cocked his head. “Two heart attacks? You have checked to see if is connection?”

  Sol sighed. “There’s a connection.”

  Nikita stiffened.

  “Boaz, report?” Sol asked, and read the printout. He smiled, bleakly. “Nikita, I’m sorry to say this.” He hesitated, shaking his head as Archon got to his feet. “I wish I could space you—but you’re innocent and pure as the solar winds.”

  “No one has ever called me that, Captain.” Then he looked back at the picture. His voice softened. “Perhaps you let me help space this murderer, eh? Paul, he is ... was my friend.”

  Wan Yang Dow stopped when Sol asked the question. “You just asked if I killed Paul Ben Geller?”

  “That’s right.”

  Dow stopped, thin lips pursed, thinking. After a moment, he looked up. “Where would I have done this and when?”

  “Last night in the lounge. Do you remember that instant?” Sol pointed at the picture. “You were talking to Mary Ben Geller. This is the instant when the fatal projectile was fired into Paul.”

  Dow studied it closely. “Why would I have killed him? Did I have a reason?”

  “Did you?” Archon supplied.

  “No.” Dow crossed his arms. “Therefore, it would seem logical that I did not commit such a crime. Yet such knowledge leads me to wonder about the two heart attacks we’ve had. Most irregular. The etiology of heart attack—”

  “We’re aware of the etiology,” Sol interrupted. “Currently, our problem is assassination and providing safety for the people aboard this vessel. Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary last night?”

  He paused in thought. “I saw nothing recognizable as out of the ordinary.”

  “Boaz?” The printout supported Dow’s simple statement.

  Constance passed with flying colors, startled to find out about Ben Geller’s death. She looked worriedly at her father. “It’s not over, then. He’s still loose out there.” She studied the screen. “Which one of them could have done it?”

  Sol shook his head. “Any ideas?”

  Her blue eyes stopped him and he felt that instant of communication pass between them.

  “Among them, no. Nikita is passionate enough. Mary? Who knows, wives often have cause to commit murder. And Dow? I don’t know how his brain works. Sanchez was one of the Cielan revolutionaries thirty years ago. He was a guerrilla fighter. Father and I could ... or would if we had to.” She looked honestly at her father. “I didn’t—did you?”

  Archon lifted a gray eyebrow.

  She left hesitantly, obvious unease in her pinched features.

  With distaste, Sol called his last witness.

  “Mary, I’m sorry to have to do this, but did you have any reason to want your husband dead?” Sol fought to keep his own composure.

  “Dead?” Suddenly the tears leaked through her tightly closed eyes. She shook her head. “No,” she whispered miserably.

  One by one Sol asked the questions. She answered bravely and in the end, he took her hand and smiled. “I’m sorry to have done this, Mary. We waited until we had questioned the others. You were the last one.” He took the printout. A deep anxiety tore at him as he read it. All normal for a freshly made widow.

  “I understand,” she said, a deeply felt steel in her voice. “If I can be of any assistance, Captain, call on me. I want to see Paul’s murderer brought to justice. We’re a tough people. We’ve been taught to bear up through tragedy. If I remember anything, I’ll call.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “If we can be of assistance to you, my ship and crew are at your disposal.”

  Sol chewed his thumb as Mary Ben Geller, hollow-eyed, passed through the hatch. “Vacuum! I feel like a heel after that!” He stilled his turbulent emotions and bottled his frustration.

  “Speaker, we’re four days from Star’s Rest.” Sol frowned to himself. “I’ll make a concession. I say we confine them to quarters. The pretext will be that there is a potential for pirate activity due to the excessive number of ships around Star’s Rest. Only the questioned witnesses will know the real reason and they won’t be allowed to converse with the others. That should defuse any suspicion and keep everyone friendly. In the meantime, give them a briefing on this alleged constitutional convention to mull over. That’ll keep their minds occupied.”

  Archon sighed. “Very well. We’re so close. Perhaps all will be well. I agree.”

  But Sol couldn’t kill the feeling he was missing something.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Bryana watched the dot accelerating, reaction mass making a white-hot streak across the starfield. “Red Alert!” she called, feeling her heart skip. “This is not a drill. All stations report!”

  Art, white and subdued since his go-round with Carrasco, pitched through the hatch, dropping into his command chair as the lights flickered red and began popping to yellow and finally green. Carrasco, haggard, combat armor donned, slipped through the hatch and into the command chair. He opened a channel to Archon immediately.

  “Constance is at the hatch,” Boaz reported.

  “Let her in.”

  She came in suited, tension in her expression. “Captain, they may be part of our fleet. As admiral, I’d better talk to them.”

  Bryana looked up in amazement. She caught Constance and Sol, eyes locked on each other in some unspoken communication. A feeling of annoyance rose from someplace deep inside. She forced herself to concentrate on the boards. So he looked at her? Big deal. Still the thought chafed.

  “Send them a standard greeting, Art,” Sol ordered, chin propped on his knee as he watched the ship arcing to meet them. “He’s pushing everything he’s got to match with us. But his crew loves that!”

  “Message returned,” Boaz called.

  “Put me through to their captain.”

  The gaudy uniform couldn’t come from anywhere except New Maine. Bryana felt herself tense and shot a look at Carrasco who seemed nonplussed.

  The speaker blared. “Attention, Captain Solomon Carrasco! I am Captain Richard Evans of His Majesty’s Ship Desmond, Royal Fleet of New Maine. It is our understanding that you are holding Fan Jordan, Earl of Baspa, or that you may have done him harm. My orders are to effect the release of the earl or to mete out such punishment as you deserve should you have harmed his Highness!”

  Bryana started at the stiff attitude until she realized Evans didn’t like the position his orders had forced him into. She could see the distaste on his face; confrontation with Boaz would have sobered anyone.

  On the other hand, Carrasco’s response surprised her. He laughed long and loud and hard. “My good Captain Evans, we would be only too happy to comply with any wish you have. In the first place, Ambassador Jordan is safe—but confined to quarters for attempted rape. Despite ship’s law, we didn’t space him, you see. I don’t know how New Maine expects to fare in the coming talks, but you might tell your king that Jordan assaulted Constance, the Deputy Speaker of Star’s Rest.”

  Evans smiled thinly. “I am told by my superiors that such charges can be easily falsified. The ambassador enjoys a great deal of the king’s affection; therefore, it would bode ill had you harmed him—no matter what the circumstances. We will match and expect transfer of the ambassador at the first opportunity.“<
br />
  Sol nodded. “That’s fine with us, Captain. From the Captain and crew of Boaz, please accept our respects and appreciation for your help. I can speak for the earl when I say he is looking forward to having you at his disposal.”

  Bryana bit her lip as she saw Carrasco’s last shot hit home. Evans’ jaw twitched and the skin along the side of his face rippled as he tensed his temporal and masseter muscles.

  “Captain Carrasco,” Evans cleared his throat. “I am also instructed by His Majesty to confirm the earl’s present state of health. You would please have him escorted to the bridge?”

  Sol’s wry smile reeked of amusement as he accessed comm. “Cal, could you escort Fan Jordan to the bridge?” He lowered his eyes to Evans‘. “I could simply access through to his quarters.”

  Evans nodded. “My orders, however, were to see him on the bridge.”

  “Of course.” Sol nodded indulgently. “Can’t be faked, right? Um, Captain, I know some of the handicaps you labor under, but you might consider—for future reference of course—that most ships have the ability to generate images far beyond what you are attempting to guard against.”

  Evans’ jaw went even tighter. Bryana wondered whether he’d crack a molar. Seconds ticked by, tension electric.

  Jordan, disheveled, blinking sleep from his eyes, passed through the hatch in front of Cal Fujiki. “Captain Carrasco! What is the meaning of dragging me from a sound sleep? How dare you interrupt and inconvenience me after the wretched treatment you have accorded me, a member of the Royal family. I warn you that your insolence has reached a new height. I swear the day will come when—”

  “Shut up, Fan!” Sol roared. “If you’ll look, you’re being rescued by poor Captain Evans!” Sol turned to the screen to see Evans standing like a rock, relief tempered by a whole new misery in his eyes. “See, he’s fine!”

  “Thank you, Captain. If you will send course data, we will match.” The screen flicked off before Jordan could say any more, possibly because Evans feared what he might be ordered to do.