Crisis On Doona

by Anne McCaffrey

  “As soon as I get more data, I’ll send it out to you,” Dalkey promised. “Meanwhile, you watch out for yourself.”

  “I want to thank you, Dalkey,” Kelly said, kissing him on the cheek. “You’ve been a gem.”

  “Just don’t forget your promise to sponsor me to Doona,” Dalkey said. “I’m going to be counting on it.” He grinned ingenuously. “If I get caught, I’ll need somewhere to go. Come back if you can or need to. And good luck.”

  * * *

  It was not unheard-of for informants to request informal meetings with Poldep. Many cases would never have been solved if ordinary citizens, taking advantage of anonymity to protect themselves and their families, couldn’t come forward with incriminating information and data. Few did it with malice, for Poldep could turn an entirely different face toward the prankster. Dalkey had assured Kelly that Poldep wouldn’t pry into her true identity, for that would defeat the purpose of anonymity. Kelly hoped that the immunity extended to no curiosity on how she had travelled to Earth.

  The Poldep offices differed from those of the other government services only by the color of their uniforms: black. Even the entry operators, and the officers, bailiffs, and investigators swarming in and out of the main entrance wore black. The color was ominous and off-putting, but she supposed that was intentional.

  The big man behind the desk in the little room was not unfamiliar, but he did not appear to recognize her: the hair dye had been a very smart idea. True, she had only seen him from a distance in the halls of Alreldep and once on Doona. They hadn’t actually met. DeVeer made the rounds of his beat periodically in a small, fast-moving scout ship. He had a reputation for being straightforward and honest. Firmly she overcame her feelings of nervousness and gave him her hand. The Poldep captain shook it.

  “I’m Sampson DeVeer, miss. What name are you using?”

  So the anonymity was genuine. “I don’t know how much you have to know about me to believe what I’m going to tell you,” Kelly said, stalling.

  DeVeer gave her a brief smile. “I find the facts often speak for themselves. How about a pseudonym for the time being? That’s not incriminating.”

  “All right,” Kelly said boldly, “call me Miss Green.” That was stupid, she admonished herself, but apt. She was green enough in more than name. Imagine blurting out a name so close to her own. But she didn’t really care. Kelly was surprised how calm she felt now that she was facing the Poldep man. She recognized that she was riding the high of success when she had expected none. She was surprising herself. She’d been a dutiful child, a good student, an obedient second on Snake Hunt, and a biddable employee of Alreldep. But now, for her friends’ sake, she was discovering a lot about what she could dare and do.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Green?” DeVeer asked.

  “You’re familiar with the situation on Doona?” she asked. His eyebrows lowered, and she went on quickly. “I know there’s lots of situations, but I mean the one concerning the Reeve Ranch. And the son, Todd. He’s been accused of horse rustling, smuggling, and entering restricted zones. And you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that he wouldn’t do any of those things. He’s innocent.”

  “Ah, yes,” DeVeer said, tenting his fingertips. “I know the circumstances. In fact, I recently had an interview with his father. He had hides bearing freeze marks for his ranch on animals he never owned. The hides had been recycled from Zapata Three with a genuine provenance. Yet he claims the brands have to have been altered.”

  “They were! I think I know how it was done,” Kelly blurted. “I mean, I believe I know who could have done it.”

  DeVeer’s expression didn’t change, but his moustache twitched. “Tell me more,” he said.

  She produced the first of her film prints and put it before him. “This man was paroled from a labor colony and returned to Earth. He’s a laser expert and innovator. His name was Lesder Boronov, but he’s called Askell Klonski now.”

  “What makes you think that he involved himself in stock theft? Name changes are not illegal.”

  “He might not be involved directly, but he came into a lot of money when he was released,” Kelly said. She produced the printout of Klonski’s credit balance.

  DeVeer read over both films carefully and made notes on a pad as he scanned. He glanced at her from under beetled brows. “May I ask where you got these screens?”

  “The one about Boronov is from Spacedep sealed files. I ... would like to protect my sources but they are reliable. I expect Poldep would be able to check the information. You can see that Klonski has been paid sums for ‘special services.’ Now”—Kelly swallowed, because she was diving forward into conjecture—“what services could a laser expert do to earn that much money?”

  “The matter could be legitimate.”

  “Then wouldn’t he be listed in Spacedep’s regular contractor file?” Kelly asked. “Why hide him under the privacy seal? And he’s not the only one.” She showed him Dalkey’s other printouts. “These men are all ex-felons, all received early paroles, and they’re all under similar privacy seals.”

  DeVeer didn’t insist that she identify her sources, which was an immense relief to her. She hoped that he thought that she herself was the Spacedep employee who had pulled the files. He read the third set of films with the same focused attention he had read the other two. Partway through the first page, he pulled over his computer terminal. He spent some minutes entering data and looking from the screen to the printouts. Then he became engrossed, fingers stabbing at function keys, tapping out new requests. Kelly sat with her hands clutched in her lap, her eyes pinned on the Poldep investigator.

  “Interesting,” he said, looking up at her after nearly an hour. He leaned back in his chair, tented his fingertips together again, and fixed his keen gaze on Kelly.

  Kelly leaned across the table. “Then you believe me? Can you find out if Klonski does have a way to alter the freeze-dry brands?”

  The chief investigator smiled thinly under his moustache. “I’ll try to help you, Miss Green, but I have only your suspicion, based on hearsay, that this Klonski might—just might—be involved in illegal activities. Even if he admitted to developing such a process, that wouldn’t automatically clear your friends. They could have made use of his ‘special services’ as easily as anyone else. In fact, some of that large sum in his credit account could have been paid in by them.”

  “But they didn’t. They didn’t!” In her frustration, Kelly banged her fists on his desk. “Why would he be in the Spacedep files if that bunch didn’t use his ‘special services’? And you surely don’t think they’d let him take outside contracts!” DeVeer smiled at that remark. “This is the first real evidence to support my friends’ innocence. Won’t you help me prove it? Please! There’s really a lot at stake!”

  DeVeer tapped his fingertips together. “Yes, I will have to initiate an investigation. Not necessarily on your friends’ behalf, for some of those charges do not lie in my jurisdiction. But rustling does. The problem of stock theft has recently trebled. New worlds are desperate for all kinds of stock, not just horses. Every animal must be marked and records kept of inoculations to prevent the spread of disease, and to be sure that livestock is protected against any indigenous problems on their destination planet. But if the marks can be skillfully altered, then our very complex disease control system has been bypassed. That can’t be allowed to happen, especially on an increasingly larger scale. One of my priorities is putting an end to illicit traffic in livestock.”

  “Then Doona isn’t the only planet to have trouble with rustlers?” Kelly asked.

  “Unfortunately, it isn’t. But you may just have brought me the tip I’ve needed.”

  He smiled at her, and his face changed from an austere mask to that of a warm and charming man. “If this Klonski has an illegal means of altering brand marks, I can help you clear your friends at least
of that charge. And Klonski is on parole?” DeVeer sat up and entered the identification number from the film into his computer console. “Yes, he is. The creation of a process used for illegal purposes is a parole violation. That can land him right back on a penal colony world, with or without Spacedep approval. I see he’s due for a meeting with his parole officer, should have met with her yesterday. Didn’t show. That gives me the right to have a few words with him.” DeVeer stood up, indicating the interview was at an end.

  “May I come along?” Kelly pleaded. The chief considered the question for a long moment.

  “It is not necessary for an anonymous accuser to face the defendant prior to a hearing. In fact, it could be dangerous.”

  “Look, Mr. DeVeer,” Kelly began earnestly, “I’ve risked a lot to lay this information before you. It might even be dangerous for me to go back out into Aisle and Corridor if anyone guesses where I’ve gone. If I’m with you, I’m safe.”

  “I could arrange for protective custody for you ...”

  “Mr. DeVeer, I only feel safe in your presence,” she said firmly.

  He considered her argument. “It is certainly not regular procedure.”

  “There’s been nothing regular about this whole mess,” Kelly replied tartly. “I trust you, Mr. DeVeer. I can be discreet but I’d rather be in your company.”

  “Would Klonski recognize you? No? That’s as well. But there is another aspect you must consider, Miss Green, in this compulsion of yours to stay under my protective wing. Suppose he describes you to his contacts at Spacedep?”

  “Let him,” Kelly said, sticking her chin up and shoving her shoulders back resolutely.

  He handed her a black tunic. “Lift your right hand”—she did—“now swear that you will obey me as your superior,” which she did. He fastened a plain bar to the collar tab. “There! You are now a deputy under my direct orders.” They left the office together.

  * * *

  The address on Klonski’s file was in a block which had been occupied from before living memory by clans calling themselves the First Families. The living spaces bordered on the spacious homes of distant memory and were located in the widest Aisles Kelly had ever seen: Aisles with plants in the malls. Security devices and operatives strode slowly but alertly up and down. She was startled to see several men and women in poorer dress hurrying along between the buildings. Security didn’t seem to notice them, and then Kelly realized they were undoubtedly menials, serving in the fine apartments of the wealthy and powerful families. The genuine residents of the houses swept by in much fancier dress, reminiscent of Jilamey Landreau’s posh togs.

  Kelly and DeVeer made their way as unobtrusively as possible to the address given for their quarry. The Poldep officer pushed a doorbell, and they waited.

  “Askell Klonski, also known as Lesder Boronov?” DeVeer asked as the door edged open a crack.

  “Who wants to know?” demanded a short, scrawny man through the gap. Kelly recognized him as quickly from Captain Kiachif’s description of a warty weasel as from DeVeer’s updated file photo.

  “Poldep,” DeVeer said, flashing his identification. “May we come in?”

  “You can state your business first,” Klonski said pugnaciously. “I’ve got nothing to hide from my neighbors.”

  “You did not keep your appointment yesterday with your parole officer, Mr. Klonski,” DeVeer said, keeping his voice low. Klonski wavered for a moment and then flung the door open wide.

  “I’m not a well man,” and he coughed a few times to prove it. “She knows. She don’t hassle me.”

  “A few moments of your time is all that’s required, Mr. Klonski,” DeVeer said smoothly.

  “Well, if that’s all, you can come in,” he said, his eyes shifting warily from one to the other of his unwelcome guests.

  Klonski’s apartment was of the size intended for the use of high-ranking families with two legal children. The main room was palatial compared to Dalkey’s, but it had been furnished in a totally haphazard fashion: the furnishings and decorations were obviously expensive but were placed in awkward groupings or hung without care or taste. If Klonski had intended to impress his neighbors with his wealth, he certainly had achieved that aim. Kelly glanced at a brilliant pink couch draped with a handwoven teal and red throw, and shuddered at the effect.

  Klonski might be wearing expensive clothing but it could not camouflage his small stature, and the color only emphasized his gritty complexion. The padded tunic did not disguise, much less improve, his narrow chest. So he gave the impression of being held prisoner inside his clothes. The style was practically a parody of what his neighbors wore with elegance.

  “I’m respectable now,” the man insisted. “Gone straight and square. I’m not supposed to be bothered with parole matters. I call her up when I remember. Give me the usual blab, then you’ve done your duty and you can leave.”

  DeVeer drew himself up to his own impressive height and loomed over the little man. “Askell Klonski, not only have you violated the terms of your parole with your nonappearance, but you seem to have violated it much more seriously. We’d like you to come down to Poldep with us and to answer a few questions.”

  “What about? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “That is what we need to determine,” DeVeer said.

  Klonski eyed them. “You’re on a fishing trip, Officer,” he said, grinning maliciously. “You haven’t got a thing that could make me go anywhere with you. You’re from them, out there.” He jerked his thumbs toward the apartments on either side of his. “They want me to leave, but I won’t. I like it here, see, and I’ve got a long, long lease. All paid up through the year double-dot.”

  “Yes, we have that data in our files. But there are other discrepancies in your record that are currently of interest to Poldep.”

  “Yeah? What, for instance? Ask me anything you want to ... right here.” The former felon hitched himself up into a huge, thronelike chair.

  “On a routine investigation of your case,” DeVeer went on, ignoring the sneering voice, “it would appear that the robbery for which you were incarcerated involved a death.”

  “It was an accident!” Klonski said agitatedly. “He shouldn’t oughta have been there in the first place. That’s all in my testimony.”

  “The laws are explicit in the case of death, whether accidental homicide or premeditated murder. Especially murder. You were rocketed up without the possibility of parole. So how, Askell, were you allowed back on Earth at all?”

  “I was given clemency for being a sick man.” Klonski essayed a few dry rasping coughs, then he looked up, his expression far more genuinely indignant. “Hey, those records were supposed to be sealed!”

  “To Poldep?” DeVeer asked scornfully. “Well, they might remain sealed to the public at large, or they might not. That’s up to me—and up to you. I think Poldep might ignore that anomaly if you will help us with our inquiries in another matter. Come down to my office to talk.”

  There was evidently something in those records which Klonski didn’t want made public. Or was there someone he didn’t want to know that his file had been opened? He was on his feet and standing by the door, exhibiting a marvelous agility for a man ill to dying from a cough.

  “You call for a private copter, then, hear? I don’t want to be seen talking to no Poldep inspector.” He straightened his tunic as they stepped outside. “I got some standards.”

  * * *

  As soon as they had arrived, Klonski made himself comfortable in a chair in DeVeer’s office. When the computer recorder was turned on, he took the oath to give a true statement. (Not, Kelly thought, that the truth was likely to mean much to a man like Klonski.)

  “So I’m sworn in. Let’s get this over with.”

  DeVeer began austerely, “You’re known to have unusual laser skills. We have reason to believe that you have p
erfected a means to alter or undo freeze-dry chemical brands on the skin of herd animals.”

  “What?” Klonski bounced up and down in his chair in amazement and began to howl with laughter, rolling from side to side, until the tears streamed down his warty face. “That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard a Poldep say! Ohhhoo, hhahaha!” He was off again in paroxysms of mirth.

  With hands lightly clasped on his desk, DeVeer regarded Klonski patiently while he enjoyed his amusement at their expense. Getting madder every moment because she knew this little weasel was a key find, Kelly wanted to box his ears or kick shins or do something to stop him laughing with such abandon. She saw her hope disappearing to the sound of his cackles. They merged into a genuine coughing fit. DeVeer poured a glass of water and passed it on to Klonski, no emotion whatever on his face.

  “Me? Rustling?” Klonski demanded when he finally caught his breath. “Waste my time and know-how changing freeze marks? Mind you, that’s beyond even me.”

  “It made a starting point,” DeVeer said, not the least bit disconcerted. “A man must keep his skills up or lose them. Right?”

  “Ri ...” Klonski began, and then realized he was being indiscreet. He pressed his lips together.

  “However,” DeVeer continued, “you do have laser skills and we do believe that a laser technique had to be used to alter freeze marks. Therefore, if you do not wish to be charged with aiding and abetting the theft of livestock and the illegal transportation of animals, you might just clear up the point of what you are doing with your special skills.”

  “Now, wait a minute ...” Klonski began, no longer so arrogant.

  “You know the drill, my man. Rustling’s grand larceny, and between unauthorized planets, it carries a double penalty. There’d be no possibility of parole for an offense of this magnitude.” He pulled his console to him and began typing. “We’ll just enter you for a preliminary, based on those unusual deposits in your credit account.” DeVeer peered at Klonski from under his thick eyebrows.