Altis-5: Book #2 of the Sleeper Series

by J. Alexander Black

  “The best translation I can think of for this is a sniffer. I use it to detect residual gases and odors. You’d be amazed what you can find out by analyzing gases produced by a dead body. This other device is a…,” he lowered his head as he searched for the right word, “dactyloscope, it can detect analyze and record what you call finger marks.”

  “I think you mean fingerprints,” said Kris. Using the sniffer, they found traces of cyanide gas in the pillow and on the bed sheets under it. The beam emitting from the dactyloscope picked out 157 different prints. While they were examining the yurt, Frulé compiled a list of visitors and their reasons for visiting. Kris reviewed the list while Jordan went to the medical department to interview the medical staff. They met an hour later at the Café and compared notes over a cup of Muska.

  Jordan went first, “The data from the dactyloscope is of little use -- some of the finger prints were from the colonists who erected the yurt, some from Hevinian supply staff who packed the yurts and some from Orion crew members who helped with the unpacking. It did confirm the presence of the personnel on Frulé’s list.” Just then Sande showed up with a preliminary medical report. The cause of death was not official yet so it had not been submitted to the ship’s Information System. She handed the report to Jordan and said, “Bruce died of cyanide gas inhalation. Time of death is between midnight and one am. As there was no evidence of struggle, he must have inhaled the gas while he was sleeping. It only takes a small amount of gas concentrated in the breathing zone to kill a human. About 3,500 parts per million compared to carbon monoxide discharge from a combustion engine which requires 7,000 ppm. It would take only a few minutes to inhale sufficient gas to kill. The toxicity is caused by the cyanide ion, which halts cellular respiration. At the first stages of unconsciousness, breathing is often sufficient or even rapid, although the state of the victim progresses toward a deep coma, sometimes

  accompanied by pulmonary edema, and finally cardiac arrest. Skin color goes pink which is consistent with what we found. He never woke from his sleep. That is all we have for now.”

  “OK. Thanks, Sande,” said Kris. “With the time of death established we can eliminate all the Brigade visitors. They were participating in the alert drill at the time. Of the four Hevinian crew members, three were on watch according to the duty roster. That leaves us with several suspects; Broan Ackerson and Adair Swift were two of the poker players. Visitors included Allyson Bryson-Jones and Andrew Blaque. It may have been that Bruce was the killer’s target but the Commander states that they switched beds last night because Bruce was having trouble sleeping and thought it could be because he was sleeping on the wrong side of the yurt. So, it is possible that the Commander was the target, Bruce was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “Some questions come to mind,” said Jordan. “What is the motive? Where did the cyanide gas come from? How was it contained?

  “I can tell you where the gas may have come from,” said Sande. “There is an entomologist onboard who collects insect samples from various planets for study on Hevinia. He uses cyanide gas to kill the bugs quickly to minimize any damage to the insects. You might want to check with him.”

  “I will do that right now,” said Jordan, he turned to leave but turned back and said. “Did you say Allyson Bryson-Jones? Isn’t she the wife of one of the EDB pilots? What was she doing there? Hmm. I’ll be right back”

  “May I ask you a question Sande?” asked Kris. “If you want to know where I was last night. I was visiting with Sara,” she said.

  “That is not what I wanted to ask you. But thank you anyway. What I was going to ask you is; is there any other way to identify a Kaedian apart from the short fingers?”

  “Well they are not raised on a planet that has the same characteristics as Hevinia, therefore they do not have the additional lobes in the lungs. If raised on their home planet they would have scarred lungs due to the polluted air found there since Kaedia is a completely industrialized planet. The members of the warrior class usually have scars on their bodies from the gladiatorial sports they participate in. Oh, and none of them have blue eyes. In fact, the huge majority of them have brown eyes.”

  She paused and her expression became serious and distant. Kris sat patiently as Sande thought about his question. He marveled at the Hevinians ability to consciously access information stored in their memory. She had said once; “On Earth it would be similar to using an internet search engine only better as all the information stored uses the same format and language but as with the ancient internet, one could easily be distracted by intriguing links that emerge.”

  Her eye brows were deeply furrowed as she pushed into the less active archives. It was as though she could feel the thought process. Suddenly her eyes lit up. “There is something; Kaedians have an aversion to salt water. It is highly corrosive to their skin. Why do you ask?”

  “Just working on a hunch,” said Kris. “Nothing concrete yet.”

  “Well I must be off,” said Sande. “I will let you know if I think of anything else.”

  Kris sat and thought. So far, we have three possible suspects, one woman, Allyson Bryson-Jones. The fourth poker player, Broan Ackerson and the Hevinian liaison, Andrew Blaque. He had just decided that the next step was to interview the suspects when Jordan returned.

  “Well we know where the cyanide gas came from,” said Jordan. “It seems Sande was correct; the ship’s entomologist had a small pressurized canister of the gas for killing his specimens. When he went to get it for me, it was missing. The entomologist was very concerned the cyanide was in a concentration of 3,500 parts per million. Strong enough to kill a man within one minute. This is not something he uses on a regular basis. In fact, the last time he used it was 5 months ago. He kept it in a locked cabinet in the back room of his office in the medical department. The door had been forced open. The lock was a simple affair designed only to keep the curious away. It would only take a few moments to force the cabinet door open, retrieve the cylinder then close the door. The entomologist has an alibi by the way.” “So, what do we have?” asked Kris. “We have a man killed by cyanide gas between midnight and one am. A cylinder of cyanide gas is missing from the medical department. Our three prime suspects, for whom we have yet to establish an alibi, knew where the victim slept or thought they did. No one would know about the switch. Whoever killed Bruce could have thought the man in the bunk was Commander Frulé. This means it’s possible he or she did not know either of the men all that well. They are similar but have different colored hair and it is possible that anyone could have snuck into the yurt while everyone else was away. The next question would be motive. Why would the killer want to kill Bruce or Françoise?”

  “Perhaps,” said Jordan, “the lady was having an affair with Françoise and either he or she wanted to terminate it. Perhaps Broan had a grudge against the Commander and Bruce? I have no idea. Why don’t we split up and interview the suspects and see where that goes? Why don’t you take the lady and I take the Barque Pilot? We can toss a coin for Blaque.”

  A short but well attended service was held in the yurt at the edge of the village square that was designated as a multi denominational place of worship. After which the body was moved to the ship’s burial chamber, placed in a sealed container and

  ceremoniously released into space. As his religious views were unknown a soft aboriginal song was played as the container was released. From the corner of his eye, Tom watched the Captain close his eyes, bow his head reverently and say his own prayer quietly. Tom, recognizing that the Captain was a religious man, decided to bring up a subject that he had been curious about since meeting the Hevinians. Walking from the funeral Tom caught up to him.

  “May I ask you a question concerning the origins of religion on Earth?”

  “That depends. Do you want me to confirm your own belief or do you want to hear the historical accounts?”

  Tom considered the question. “I have always been curious as to why the majority of people
on Earth believe in divine beings. Most of them are monotheists and believe that this one God created everything. What can you tell me?”

  The Captain thought for a moment. “I cannot tell you why people believe what they believe.”

  The Captain paused outside the ship’s dining facility. “Would you care for some Muska? I could use some.”

  They entered and the Captain poured bowls of Muska for them both. They found a corner table; as they sat a facility technician came over with some small Hevinian pastries.

  “Freshly made, Captain,” said the technician. The Captain was obviously delighted. He devoured them quickly after offering one to Tom who refused. The Captain finally put down his Muska and continued. “When we colonize a planet, we preferably pick one that is uninhabited. We make some environmental changes to ensure survival and establish a colony. We return on a regular basis to check on their progress and to bring new colonists. On these planets, the culture and religious preferences that are prominent on Hevinia are naturally maintained. What made Earth unique is that immediately after establishing the colony, the first interstellar war began and in the turmoil, Earth was forgotten. With the failure of the colony and subsequent introgression of the survivors into the evolving indigenous population, any remaining Hevinian beliefs disappeared. In time, the knowledge of the colony was absorbed into legend. Perhaps your bible story of Adam and Eve refers to the last of the Hevinian colonists whose children were part of that process.” He paused, thinking about what he had just said, then continued, “Faith attempts to answer many questions like; who am I, why am I here and most important what happens when I die?”

  He spread his hands out wide and looked up as he spoke, “when an evolving species seeks individually to answer those questions sometimes they weave legends into something that makes sense to them, or something that helps them to deal with the struggle to survive. As time passes these theories can take on a more organized form and religions are formed. The path these religions take then depends on the charismatic individuals that are elevated to leadership roles either by their own character or by others working behind the scenes.”

  He then continued speaking, “For example, take the case of Mierium, a sleeper whose relationship and influence over a young pacifist rebel almost caused his death but still created one of Earth’s great religions. Unfortunately, as the religion evolved the true meaning of his beliefs, even his name, was changed. Just as on Earth, Hevinia has been through some terrible times in the name of organized religion. However, as we evolved and expanded throughout the universe, poverty was eliminated and personal dignity soared. We began to believe that our God existed as defined by each of us within ourselves and as a result organized religion became less and less popular until it disappeared. Most Hevinians do believe in a superior being that helps define who they are but how we communicate with our own deity is personal and private. If you want more information I can give you access to our...” He paused searching for a translation of a rarely used word. “...database. Would that help?”

  “Yes, that would help. I think,” said Tom. His mind was still reeling as he understood who Mierium was and that she almost caused His death. Almost? The Captain’s expression became focused and distant looking. He was searching for information. His eyes refocused on Tom.

  “I recommend you access Earth’s Sleeper reports,” said the Captain.

  11

  More Murder!

  Kris met with Broan Ackerson after the funeral in a corner of a nearly empty Muska lounge.

  “The Captain told me you wanted to meet with me regarding Bruce’s death?” asked Broan.

  “Yes. I have been asked by the Captain and the village leaders to investigate the death of Captain Bruce Fosdyke. I’ll get right to the point. Where were you between midnight last night and one am this morning?” inquired Kris formally.

  “Am I a suspect Kris?” asked Broan.

  “Until the killer is found everyone who cannot verifiably account for their whereabouts at the time the murder took place is a suspect,” replied Kris. “I repeat my question, where were you between midnight last night and one am this morning?”

  “I was in my room, sleeping,” said Broan looking down at his steaming bowl of Muska.

  “Were you alone?” asked Kris. It concerned him that Broan would not look at him so he decided to try a different approach.

  “When was the last time you were in Commander Frulé’s yurt?”

  Broan looked up at him. “A few days ago, we played poker, it’s an interesting game. Do you play?”

  “Never mind about that,” said Kris. “There were five of you, after the game did you all leave at the same time?”

  “Conrad and Elias were going on watch so they left first. Adair and I stayed for about an hour. The Commander introduced us to an Erth drink called cognac; he kept it in a box under his bunk. It burned my throat; however, Adair seemed to really enjoy it. The Commander said it was very smooth. Must be an acquired taste.”

  “Did anyone else come in while you were there?” asked Kris.

  Broan seemed very talkative now they were off the subject of his whereabouts at the time of the murder. One of the interrogation techniques he had learned from the Police Chief back in Jayton Mill was to get them talking on other related subjects then bring them back to what you really wanted to know.

  “Yes,” said Broan. “As a matter-of-fact, just after Adair left Captain Fosdyke came in. It was funny really.” “How so,” asked Kris.

  “He asked Frulé if he could switch bedrooms with him. Frulé asked him why and he said because he was sleeping on the wrong side of the house, that he was used to sleeping on the other side. Frulé said it was okay with him, they could switch rooms that night.” “What was so funny about that?” asked Kris. “It was a round room so what difference would it make?” queried Broan.

  “Perhaps he needed to be closer to the door,” said Kris. “Let’s get back to last night. You say you were in your quarters alone all night?”

  Again, Broan looked down at his Muska. “Yes. I have told you that. Look I have things to do. Are we done here?”

  “Tell me about Adair, who is he?” replied Kris. “Nothing much to tell, he works as an

  Environmental Systems Technician. He is quite good at what he does. Doesn’t seem to have much of an interest in anything else though. In fact, I was surprised when he accepted the Commander’s invitation to play cards.” He looked up at Kris. “Now are we done?”

  “Yes,” said Kris. “For now.”

  Broan got up and walked out leaving his steaming bowl of Muska untouched.

  Kris was still making notes from his interview with Broan when Jordan walked in. “How did it go with Broan?”

  “Well, he still has no alibi,” said Kris as he finished his report on his device. As he wrote, the information was immediately distributed to the ship’s data system then channeled out to those who had clearance.

  He looked up at Jordan, “He told me he was in his quarters alone all night but I get the feeling he is covering up something and he knew about the room switch.”

  “I can answer that; Broan prefers the company of men which is frowned upon in the service. I am sure that’s the reason but I will confirm it. As the ship’s Security Officer, I am aware of things not generally known. So far, Broan’s personal affairs have not hindered his duties so it is not an issue but something I am sure he would want to keep quiet. As I said it is frowned upon, not illegal.”

  “I will leave you to follow up on that then. One odd thing Broan said he and Adair had tried some of the Commander’s cognac that he kept in a box under his bunk but when we searched the yurt, there was no cognac or box.”

  “Interesting,” said Jordan.

  “What did Allyson Bryson-Jones have to say?” said Kris.

  Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing there, she was meeting with Frulé to finalize plans for her husband’s upcoming birthday. Apparently those two were born just days
apart. She says she was at home with her husband entertaining guests at the time of the murder. Ray and Marcie had visited that evening and did not leave until midnight. That should be easy enough to verify. Oh, and I talked to the other Australian surveyors they were not much help. Before arriving onboard, they had never met each other.

  “That leaves Andrew Blaque,” said Kris. “Why don’t we tackle him together?”

  Andrew was not hard to find. Being full of his own importance, obnoxious and loud he tended to leave a trail of annoyed people wherever he went. They found him at noon in the village dining room complaining loudly that there should be a special table if not a special room so that dignitaries like himself could eat away from the common people. Sara Anderson, dining room manager and unknown to Blaque was also the head selectperson for the village, was responding in a very polite way.

  “Mister Blaque in this village we are all equal. However, in consideration for your special status I could arrange for you to eat your meals in the private dining room through that door.” She pointed to a large metal door against the wall on the outer edge of the village turned and walked past Kris shaking her head and mumbling something about a pompous infuriating man. Kris smiled as he realized the door in question was a hatch leading to the outside of the ship. Blaque turned to leave but Jordan blocked his path.

  “Mister Blaque?” asked Kris.

  “Yes. What do you want?” said Blaque still bristling from his encounter with Sara.

  “My name is Kris Blackstock and this is Jordan Keaton.”

  “So?” said Blaque in a haughty manner.

  “We are investigating the murder of Captain Fosdyke,” said Jordan.

  “By whose authority?” said Blaque.