The Polaris shuttle was there, occupying an alcove. It still looked serviceable. The public wasn’t permitted inside, but we could get up close enough to see everything. Carrying capacity was four. The harness arrangement was different from anything you’d see in a modern vehicle. Heavier, and more intrusive. Cabin design felt old-fashioned, but you’d expect that. Standard set of controls. Standard guidance system. A basic thruster package that could have come right off Belle’s shuttle. Two storage cabinets behind the backseat, filled with spare parts. And a cargo compartment in the rear, accessible through a separate hatch. The shuttle retained the Polaris and Survey markings.
The rest of the Polaris display was inconsequential, and was stored in two glass cases.
One held a shirt. “Urquhart’s,” Chalaba said. She consulted a notebook. “It was found in the foldaway bed.”
“The Survey people must have missed it,” said Alex.
“Apparently.”
There were also a pen, a remote, a book, and a makeup kit. “The makeup kit, of course, belonged to one of the women. We’re not sure which. The pen, we don’t know. It was found in its holder on the bridge.”
“You’ve done the archeologically correct thing,” Alex said. “Recording the locations of the finds.”
“As if it matters. But yes, our people did a decent job.” She went back to her notes. “The remote is an electronic key of some sort. It was found in the cargo locker of the lander. We don’t know who that belonged to, either.”
“An electronic key?” Alex peered down at it. It was about the size of a candy bar, with five buttons, one red, four blue, and a display. Each button was marked with a symbol:
“What’s it operate?” asked Alex.
Back to the notes. “It doesn’t say. I doubt anybody knows.”
It was hard to imagine why anyone would need a key on the Polaris. Aboard a ship, everything operates off the AI. Or by simple voice command. Or by pushing a button.
“What do you think?” Alex asked me. “Would they need it maybe for the lander?”
“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “No, there’d be no point.”
A remote. In an age when most devices were voice-activated, there’s not much use for it. Kids use them for games. They operate flying models. They open hotel room doors. They can be used to adjust water temperature in pools.
What else?
Alex shook his head. “Anybody have any idea what the symbols mean?”
“The bottom one looks like a negative,” said Chalaba. “Maybe somebody just brought it from home,” she said. “Forgot they had it.”
It looked very much like a standard hotel key. Five buttons: up and down for the elevators, lock and unlock for the apartment, and a transaction button. That would be the red one. The rectangle represented a press pad.
The book was Wilderness of Stars, by Emanuel Placido. It had been a big hit with the environmental people in the last century. “It belonged to White,” Chalaba said. “We have a virtual copy available if you’d like to see it.”
Alex caught my eyes. Maybe she wrote something in it. Maybe it’s what they’ve been looking for. “Cory,” he said, “since we’re in here, I assume the exhibit area is open to the general public.”
She nodded. “Yes. But we don’t advertise it, so I doubt many people know it’s here.”
He showed her the picture of Barber.
“No,” she said. “I’ve never seen her.”
He gave it to her, along with his code. “It will get you to our office,” he said. “We’d be grateful if you’d keep an eye open. If she shows up, please give us a call.”
She looked at us suspiciously.
“It’s all right,” he said. “If you’re reluctant to call us, let the Andiquar police know. You’ll want to talk to Inspector Redfield.”
“All right. You mind telling me what it’s about?”
“One other thing,” he said, bypassing the question. “I’d like very much to buy a copy of the key.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kimball, but that’s really not feasible.”
“It’s important,” he said. “And I’d be grateful.” He produced his link, typed in a figure, and showed it to her. “Would this cover it?”
Her eyebrows went up. “Yes,” she said, drawing the word out. “If it means that much, I suppose we can manage it.”
“Thank you,” said Alex. “Please be sure it’s a working duplicate.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I think it’s what Barber and Kiernan were looking for.”
“Really. Why?”
“Because it’s the one object that has no possible use on the Polaris.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Ask yourself what it was doing in the shuttle’s cargo compartment.” He looked around to be sure we were alone. “Chase, I know how it was done.”
We were walking across a white stone bridge that separated the Foundation grounds from the landing pad. He stopped and gripped the white handrail and leaned out over a brook as if he were really interested in seeing whether it contained fish. He could be infuriating sometimes. I waited for the explanation, which did not come. “How?” I said at last.
“You suggested the ship went elsewhere in the system.”
“Yes.”
“Why not outside the system? They had six days before the Peronovski would arrive.”
“It’s possible. Sure.”
“Everybody assumed the ship went adrift right after the last message. But that’s not what happened. It jumped out of the system. Took the passengers somewhere. To a drop-off point. Then they unloaded everyone. The place, wherever it was, had living accommodations. That’s where the key came from.”
“There’s no place like that near Delta Kay.”
“You sure? We’re talking three days available for travel, one way. How far was that in 1365?”
“Sixty light-years.”
“That’s a pretty big area. Even out there.” He dropped a pebble into the water. “The key, in effect, is a hotel key. Whoever had it unloaded his passengers, got a good night’s sleep, and in the morning he started back in the Polaris to Delta Kay.”
“—Where the ship was found by the Peronovski—”
“Yes.”
“And, with Walker’s help, he was able to slip aboard and hide below. Until they returned to port.”
“Very good, Chase.”
“You really think that’s what happened?”
“Except one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Change the pronoun. She slipped aboard.”
“Maddy?”
“I don’t think there’s any question. She’s the one in the ideal position to pull it off, provided she had help from other passengers. And she was a pilot. The conspirators had arranged in advance to make another ship available for her at Indigo. When she got back, she collected it and went out to recover them.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“All the objects that were looked at by our burglars belonged to Maddy. Nobody else.”
“But Alvarez should have seen her when he searched the Polaris.”
“She hid in the shuttle cargo compartment. That’s when she lost the key.”
“They had no reason to open the cargo compartment.”
“Right. And when the search was over, Alvarez and Walker went back to the Peronovski. That night, Alvarez goes to sleep—”
“—And Walker brings her aboard.”
“He stashed her in one of the compartments belowdecks. Voilà, the alien wind has swept them all away.”
“Incredible,” I said. “That simple.”
Alex shrugged modestly.
“They did all this just to head off Dunninger’s research?”
“They saw it as life and death for millions of people. And they were all idealists.”
“Fanatics.”
“One man’s idealist is another’s lunatic.”
&
nbsp; “But why is anyone worried about it now? Is someone still in power from those years?”
His eyes were troubled. “No. I’ve checked. Everyone who could have been involved, either at Survey, or in the political world, is dead or retired.”
“Then who’s behind the attacks on us?”
“I have an idea, but let’s put that aside for now.”
“Okay. So where’d the Polaris take them?”
“That’s what we have to find out.”
We stayed in Sabatini and returned to Limoges the next day by train. Alex liked trains, and he also thought it might be smart to change our travel plans. Just in case.
We rode a taxi to the station and arrived just as the Tragonia Flyer was pulling in. We got into our compartment, and Alex lapsed into silence. The train made a second stop in Sabatini, then began its long trek across the Koralis.
We were still in mountain country when the service bot brought lunch. And wine. Alex gazed moodily through the window at the passing landscape.
I thought about Maddy while I ate. I liked her, identified with her, and I hated to think she’d been part of a conspiracy to put Dunninger out of action.
“First thing we need to do,” I told Alex, “is to go back and look at the shipping schedules again. We’d assumed that any black ship would have to go all the way out to Delta Kay. But this changes things. We need to check, to see whether anyone was in a position to get close enough to manage a rendezvous.”
“I’ve already looked,” he said. “It was one of the first things I did.”
“So you’re telling me nobody would have been able to do that either?”
“That’s correct. Nobody was unaccounted for. Nobody, other than the Peronovski, was anywhere near the target space. And not for weeks afterward. Which means Maddy didn’t immediately go back to pick them up. But that’s just smart planning.”
He finished his meal and pushed it aside.
“You know,” I said, “I think I prefer the alien juggernaut theory.”
“Yeah. I feel that way, too.”
“I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“What was the last-minute emergency that kept Taliaferro off the flight?”
“Chase, I don’t think Taliaferro ever intended to go. I think everybody on board that ship was part of the conspiracy to shut down Dunninger. Taliaferro got volunteers, people who were willing to give up their everyday lives to stop something they thought would be a major calamity. But there was a limited number he dared ask. Not enough to fill the ship. Taliaferro couldn’t go himself, because they needed him to direct things from Survey. They were going to need money, for example, and eventually a base. So Taliaferro set up Morton College. But there were a lot of people who wanted to make the Polaris flight, so they had to be able to claim it was filled.”
We passed through a small town, lots of lights, someone on a runabout. Otherwise, the streets were empty.
TWeNTY-TWO
“Do not underestimate the woman. Provoke her, anger her, infuriate her, and in her hands every object, every knife, every pot, every pebble, can become lethal.”
—Jeremy Riggs, Last Man Out
The train ride required a bit more than fourteen hours. We slept most of the way and got into Limoges an hour or two before midnight. Once off the train, we hurried through the terminal like a couple of fugitives, watching everybody and wondering when someone would throw a bomb. But we got back to the town house without incident.
Neither of us was ready to call it a night. Alex poured two glasses of Vintage 17, made a sandwich, and sat down in an armchair in a manner that suggested big things were about to happen.
I’ve forgotten the AI’s name at the town house, but he directed it to provide a display with Delta Karpis at the center. “Make a sphere around it, with a sixty-light-year radius.” Sixty light-years, of course, was the maximum range the Polaris could have traveled in the three days it had available. “How many habitable worlds are there?”
“One moment, please.”
Alex was in excellent spirits. He looked across at me and grinned. “We’ve got them,” he said. His sandwich showed up, and he picked it up without looking at it, took a bite, chewed and swallowed, and washed it down with his wine.
I was feeling less jovial. Alex says I worry too much. “I hate to point this out,” I told him, “but I think we’ve done enough. Why don’t we walk away from this? Give everything to Fenn and let him deal with it? Before more bad things happen?”
He shook his head. It’s a hard life when one is surrounded by such imbecility. “Chase,” he said, “don’t you think I’d love to? But they’re going to keep coming after us. And there’s no way we can stop that until we stop them. Fenn’s not going to run out to Delta Kay and look around.” His voice softened. “Anyhow, don’t you want to be there when we confront these people?”
“Probably not,” I said.
“Three,” said the AI. “There are three habitable worlds.”
“Three? Is that all?”
“It’s a sterile area. Most of the stars in the region are young.”
“Delta Karpis wasn’t young.”
“Delta Karpis was an exception. And there is also an outstation.”
“Where?”
“Meriwether. It’s actually a bit farther than the parameters you set. It’s sixty-seven light-years out.”
“Where is it? Show me.”
A swirl of stars appeared in the middle of the room. A prominent yellow one began blinking. “Delta Kay,” said the AI. An arrow appeared above a side table, pointing toward the back porch. “That way to Indigo.” Then we got another blinker, this one red, over a love seat. “The Meriwether outstation.”
Alex looked pleased. Only four possibilities. “Chase,” he said, “we’ve caught a break.” And, to the AI: “Tell me about them.”
“The worlds first. Terranova has a small settlement.” Its image formed in the middle of the room. “It’s the home of the Mangles.”
“What’s a Mangle?” I asked.
“They’re a back-to-nature group who like isolation. They ascribe, more or less, to the philosophy of Rikard Mangle, who thought that people should get their hands dirty, build their own homes, and grow their own food. To do less, he maintained, is to fall short of knowing what it truly means to be human. Or something like that. Aside from an occasional hermit, they’ve been the sole inhabitants on Terranova for two centuries. They claim to be the most remote human outpost.”
“Are they?” I asked.
“Depends where you put the center of the Confederacy, ma’am.”
“And they’re still functioning?” said Alex.
“Oh, yes. They’re still there. But they don’t have much contact with the outside world. A little trading. And every once in a while somebody escapes.”
“That’s a gag, right?” I said.
“Not at all. Their children don’t always want to stay. Some, when they can, clear out.”
“The brighter ones.”
“I’m not equipped to make that judgment.”
Alex wore a wry smile. “These Mangles,” he said, “would they be likely to let an outside group move in?”
“Judging by their history, as well as their code of regulations, I’d say not. Unless you adopted their political philosophy.”
Well, I thought, that part of it doesn’t matter. A planet’s a big place. The Polaris had a lander. The Mangles sound fairly primitive, so the lander could have gotten to the surface unseen easily enough. “How many Mangles are there?”
“Fewer than sixty thousand, Chase. Terranova is the only Confederate world that shows a consistent decrease in population.”
“Okay,” said Alex. “Tell us about the other two.”
“Markop III. And Serendipity. Neither has been settled. Gravity approximates one point four at Markop. It’s uncomfortable under the best of circumstances. Serendipity’s air is thin, and the surface is hot to intolerable. A
ny human settlements would have to be placed near the poles.”
“But the air is breathable.”
“Oh, yes. It’s not a place you’d want to go if you like comfort. But you could certainly put a group of people there and, assuming you provided food and shelter, you could have every hope they’d survive.”
“What about the outstation? Meriwether?”
“It services a bare handful of missions each year. It’s probably the oldest of the operational stations. Completely automated.”
“Could I use it without leaving a record?”
“I don’t know. That information is not available.”
That was my area of expertise. “The answer’s no, Alex. The station AI logs everything. Any attempt to juggle the log, to gundeck it in any way, is considered a criminal offense. And it gets reported.”
“No way it could be done?”
“I don’t think so. At the first sign of tampering, the AI would send out an alarm.”
“Okay. I think we better have a look at it anyhow.”
“Could we wait until morning?”
He laughed. “Yes, I suspect we can do that.”
It was supposed to be a joke. “You do mean we’re leaving tomorrow?” I’d been hoping for two or three days off.
“Yes,” he said. “I think it’s prudent we end this thing as quickly as we can. We’ll be targets until we do.” Did I want more wine? I declined, and he refilled his glass. “Now, can we trust Belle’s new AI?”
“Yes,” I said. “We have a security system that will alert us if anyone so much as looks twice at the ship.” Nevertheless, I took an early transport up to Skydeck and spent the morning going over her, just to be on the safe side. I’d had enough surprises.
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