by Sam Smith
On one station Nero had been known as The Ace Procrastinator. Possibly the interviewing board had heard of his reputation. Others, of a more cynical persuasion, might say, though, that the interviewing board had simply been seduced by his rival’s superficial confidence. And Nero could not be described as emanating either confidence or resourcefulness; rather the opposite — his anxiety transmitted itself; and no-one places trust in a man who is so ostensibly anxious. Indeed, by the time of these events, Nero had come by the state of mind where he expected the worst and the worst invariably happened.
* * * * *
At this juncture in the narrative a description of Inspector Eldon Boone is also required. Suffice it to say that, where Nero was small, Inspector Eldon Boone was, by any standards, a huge man, whose full red beard and red hair seemed only to add to his immense stature. Beside one such as Eldon Boone Nero Porsnin seemed even smaller, balder, and decidedly the more anxious.
As to the Inspector’s tardy involvement in this affair: he was preoccupied with matters elsewhere, notably on Torc, the inner station. To Inspector Eldon Boone the events on Happiness were a side issue: for us the reverse is true.
In an idle moment on Torc Inspector Eldon Boone had happened to glance through the police dispatches from XE2. Thus had the events on Happiness first come to his notice. The news had worried him in that he had not been able to understand it — it had no precedent.
Deciding that he could spare five days off from his investigation into the Torc fraud, he hurried back to XE2. Only to arrive fifty minutes after Sergeant Alger Deaver and Constable Drin Ligure had left the second time for Happiness.
However, seeing that Munred had declared himself missing, he sought out Sub-director Nero Porsnin in the hope of discovering just what was happening in what he regarded as his Department.
In consulting with Nero over Munred’s disappearance Eldon soon saw Nero for what he was, a prevaricator of the first order — in Eldon’s book one of those people who always seemed to be doing something and yet nothing seemed to get done. He knew that Nero would busily put off making any decision, would industriously delay indefinitely any distasteful task. So, with Sergeant Alger Deaver and Constable Drin Ligure only four hours out from XE2 on their way to Happiness, Inspector Eldon Boone took it upon himself to issue the order diverting all other ships from Happiness, to send for a temporary replacement Director, and to inform Petre Fanne of Munred’s disappearance, spell out its implications to her.
* * * * *
Petre Fanne had spent the four days since Munred had left for Happiness being self-indulgently bored. She was used to his annual absences, called them her mind-improving periods, spent the time at home reading, catching up on films, listening to music. If she did venture out it was only to the beauty parlour or to the shops. Because, while Munred was absent, she did not socialise. After all the implicit invitations she had issued it was far too risky to go abroad unchaperoned. Always there was one man who hadn’t grasped the spirit of the game she played and who boorishly wanted to grasp her. So she attended only those social engagements where she was safe without an escort, where she wouldn’t be directly propositioned, would have to directly refuse and thus offend one of those she had spent so much effort cultivating.
With Munred’s unexpected trip to Happiness this time extending her anticipated time alone she wished that Tulla was on XE2 to chaperone her: no sensible man tried to seduce two giggling women. But, for now, a book on her lap, she was sitting freshly bathed and beautified awaiting Munred’s brief return from Happiness, to send him on his way to the interview with a reassuring peck on the cheek, possibly more energetic encouragement if he had the time.
When the doorbell rang, assuming that Munred had momentarily mislaid his key, she leapt to open the door. She was confronted by the ginger bulk of Inspector Eldon Boone.
“May I come in?” Before she could recover from her surprise he had stepped around her into the apartment.
“Yes,” she said belatedly, began anxiously to wonder what he might want of her. But Inspector Eldon Boone was a man no sane woman would flirt with; and when she had met him socially it had been at purely official functions.
As for Inspector Eldon Boone he made his way uncomfortably to the living room: he wanted Petre Fanne seated when he told her. Having been the unwilling bearer of bad tidings many times before he knew that no-one reacted typically, that he had to expect the unexpected. To avert, as best he could, the unexpected he had to attempt to control the situation from the outset. So, turning to Petre Fanne, he told her to please sit down.
By his unsmiling demeanour Petre was already beginning to suspect something amiss. She demurely sat, eyes raised to him.
“Munred Danporr,” Inspector Eldon Boone sombrely informed her, “has reported himself missing.”
“Reported himself missing?” she brightly echoed him, her head to one side.
“He left a message here saying that, if he hadn’t returned by early this morning, he was to be considered missing.”
“Oh,” she smiled at him. “He’s probably running late, gone straight on to an interview he had.”
Inspector Eldon Boone’s expression knew nothing of an interview. Petre explained. He nodded: some did cling to the faintest of hopes.
“I don’t think he has,” he told Petre. “Do you know what’s been happening on Happiness?”
“I know he went there.” Petre was frowning now, “And Tulla told me something about it. Why?”
“Tulla?”
“Tulla Yorke. She’s gone out to Ben to do some research. She’s an astrophysicist.”
“Ah. Yes.”
Eldon had seen the name in his too brief an examination of the records. He made a mental note to look up her part in this when he returned to his office.
“Why would Munred report himself missing?” Petre asked him.
“What did he tell you about Happiness?”
“Stupid name,” she said irritably. “Nothing. He never talked to me about his work.”
Inspector Eldon Boone gigantically nodded: Munred Danporr had just risen in his estimation.
“May I sit down?”
“Oh please,” she waved him to a chair. He chose the sturdiest.
“We lost communication with Happiness and then, apparently, their moon went missing. The Director here, Munred Danporr, sent a police ship to investigate. They discovered that six ships, that have recently left Happiness, have all inexplicably disappeared. We have one witness who claims that she saw two of those ships explode as they left the planet’s atmosphere. There are also three freighters which have recently left Happiness and which we have been, so far, unable to trace. For the moment we have to assume that they too have disappeared. Consequently Munred Danporr, before he left to conduct his own investigation, left a message here saying that, if he hadn’t returned from Happiness by this morning, he too was to be considered missing. We have to assume the worst.”
“Why aren’t you down there looking for him?”
“A police ship left here for Happiness this morning. We won’t have the results of their investigations for another three days at least. Unfortunately I have another important case on Torc which demands my presence there.”
“He’s gone straight to the interview,” Petre said.
Having so decided Petre rose and crossed the room to the door. She stopped when she realised that Inspector Eldon Boone had not moved.
“I don’t think he has,” Eldon said. “Nor would he have left a message like that if he’d had the slightest intention of not returning here. I’m not sure that you’ve yet fully grasped its implications.”
“Implications?”
“Because Munred Danporr has reported himself missing, because of the circumstances, we have to assume the worst. That means that this station is now without a Departmental Director. A request has already gone out for a replacement Director. That replacement will be here within five days.”
“You obviously don’t know the
procedure.” Petre, walking around the sides of the room, tossed him a pitying smile, “The interviewing takes months.”
“Not in a case like this,” Eldon assured her. “The closest person with Departmental Directorship experience will be immediately sent here. And, this close in, there are plenty with such experience. Whoever comes will temporarily hold the post until candidates can be interviewed on a normal basis. That indeed might take months.”
“And who’s the acting Director in the meantime? You?”
“Until the temporary replacement arrives the Sub-Director, Nero Porsnin, will be acting Director.” Petre snorted,
“Wonder how many babies he’ll have.”
While they had been talking Petre had moved to a corner, was now staring down on some ornaments on a cupboard top.
“You do realise,” Inspector Eldon Boone said, “how this affects your position on this station?”
Petre’s shrug expressed her indifference.
“This is a Service apartment,” Eldon said. “The Director’s apartment. I daresay that the temporary replacement can be persuaded to find alternative accommodation, but the permanent replacement will require this apartment.”
“I’m used to moving,” she said, remained in the corner.
“I hope so.” He sighed, “You are aware of Service policy in a case such as this?”
“What policy?”
“You will be pressured into leaving this station. It will be done very politely, but go you’ll have to.”
“Where?”
“Wherever there is a comparable station with a vacant apartment.”
“Why?”
“Because...” Inspector Eldon Boone took a deep breath, “they have found that non-Service personnel, left behind like this, cause friction among the remaining Service personnel. I can quote it if you like. ‘It is Service policy to remove, as tactfully as possible, deserted or bereaved personnel consorts from the station on which they were bereaved or deserted. Experience has shown that such consorts, where they perform no other function on said station, prove a distinct embarrassment to the other personnel.’ You’re now,” Eldon apologetically told Petre, “an embarrassment here. Not hard to understand why. As the Director’s consort you were accorded a certain respect. Now, though, you’re without status. Believe me, it will be better for you, better for all concerned, if you start somewhere afresh. I’ve seen it before — the same policy applies to police personnel — and it’s a waste of time resisting. So if I were you I’d start thinking about where you want to go.”
Petre returned an ornament to the cupboard top,
“You think he’s definitely dead then?” She didn’t look up at him.
“I’m afraid so,” Eldon stood, “In fact I’ve already asked the Sub-Director to look into your pension entitlements. You don’t have any children?”
“No.”
“Is there a friend I could tell? Someone to be with you. It often helps.”
“No.”
“The Service doctor will be calling on you shortly. A matter of routine. I’m sorry Miss Fanne, but I’m afraid I have to go now.”
Petre looked up from the ornaments, studied him. Then she came marching out of her corner and grasped his large hand,
“Thank you for taking the trouble Inspector.”
Her so saying had Petre Fanne also rise a few points in Inspector Eldon Boone’s estimation.
Chapter Thirteen
Sergeant Alger Deaver and Constable Drin Ligure were on their second day out, and decelerating towards Happiness, when Petre Fanne received her second unexpected visitor.
The spy screen displayed Tulla Yorke standing impatiently beyond the door. In frantic haste Petre opened the door. Once within Tulla’s embrace Petre gave in to self-pity and wept.
“Soon as I saw Munred had left for Happiness I came back,” Tulla stroked Petre’s hair.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Petre clung to the comforting breadth of her large friend.
In eighteen hours one can do enough thinking to change one’s entire outlook on life. In Petre’s instance grief was a determining factor. Because it is a peculiarity of grief that one always seeks to blame oneself for the death of the beloved. Petre reasoned thus — if she had given in to Munred’s desire to have a child then that would have delayed by several years their arrival on XE2, Munred would, therefore, not then have gone to Happiness, would not now be missing. Her fault. So she indirectly acknowledged her ambition, saw where the pursuit of that childhood dream had so far led her. And with Munred gone, with Munred now seen as the price, she wondered at the dream’s worth.
Petre had declined the doctor’s medications, had thus denied herself sleep. Last night, with failure standing like a slammed door before her, she had looked back with contempt on her self-centred ambition, had with loathing regarded all the mean little strategems she had employed to further Munred’s career. All had been in vain.
Within those lonely eighteen hours Petre had recalled scenes from her past with the here-and-now clarity of hallucinations, with the largeness of shame. In evading that shame her mind had been prey to many fantastic imaginings, had conjured up the most outlandish suspicions. One of which was that Munred and Tulla had conceived an elaborate plot whereby they might go off together and have children. Hence her double relief in seeing Tulla. Now she controlled herself, offered Tulla coffee.
With Tulla trailing behind her around the apartment Petre relayed to her what Inspector Eldon Boone had told her — about Munred having declared himself missing and its consequences, how she now had to leave XE2.
“When?”
“Not immediately. He’s going to have a word with the replacement Director, see if I can stay in the apartment for a while. Tulla I feel so unimportant.”
Again Tulla comfortingly hugged her.
During the night, lonely and friendless, Petre had placed a high value on friendship, had looked back with regret on those many friendships that she had so wilfully abandoned. Friendships that at the time had seemed as if they’d last forever; two years later and she couldn’t remember their names. Now she was within the embrace of a friend. And this friend’s name, she vowed, she would not forget.
Petre this time more quickly suppressed her tears. They sat either side of the dining table.
“What do you think could have happened to him?” Petre asked Tulla, “Why would he do this to me?”
“Didn’t the Inspector tell you?” Tulla regarded her carefully, “Munred’s dead.”
“Yes. He said as much. Do you believe it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tulla rubbed a distracted hand through her ragged hair, reached a conclusion, “Do you know Happiness’s moon has gone missing?”
“The Inspector said. What’s that to do with it?”
“That’s why I went out to Ben. To discover what caused that moon to disappear. They have a better science library there. Took me longer than I expected. Do you know their Welfare and Leisure Director has built up one of the best science libraries outside the city? She’s justifiably proud of it. Trouble is she’s also jealous of anyone else using it. And all the data I wanted turned out to be classified. For every file I wanted I had to go through the rigmarole of getting her permission. And then she hung about so I couldn’t take copies. Irony is that I’ve got a higher security clearance than she has. And that galled her. Anyway, after a couple of days of this, I found out what time she went home and an hour after she went home I called her and asked for clearance of a file. Back she came to give it me. Soon as she got home again I called her for clearance of another file. She soon got fed up with that. Come the end she asked me for a list of all the classified files I wanted and cleared the lot in one go. Then I stayed up nights taking copies.” She patted the case on the table, “Honestly these Service types’ obsession with security.” Tulla was about to say more, but remembered that she had levelled a similar criticism at Munred the last time she had seen him; a
nd Munred was now dead.
Petre didn’t notice Tulla’s hesitation. She was used to Tulla poking fun at the many sacred cows of Service: one of the reasons she enjoyed Tulla’s company — Tulla blew some of the stuffiness out of her life. Petre indicated the bag and the case on the table,
“So what did you find on Ben that makes you so certain that Munred is..?”
“I’m not absolutely sure yet. More work needs to be done. Need time to prepare my thesis if you like. And you mustn’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Petre asked impatiently.
“I’m ninety nine percent certain,” Tulla said, “that there are Nautili down there.”
Petre greeted this momentous news first with blank incomprehension, then with head-shaking incredulity,
“Not this close in.”
“Their boundaries aren’t the same as ours,” Tulla edged closer to the table, eager to submit her reasonings. Having anticipated such scepticism she was glad of this private opportunity to rehearse her arguments. “Believe me,” she said, “I thought it was just coincidence when my research first started turning them up. But it fits their every known pattern of behaviour.”
“And Munred’s been killed by them?”
“Looks like it.” Tulla adopted a saddened expression, but her excitement broke through it, “You see the Nautili isolate any planet they’re about to colonise. According to the police reports, five ships from the planet, maybe six, were lost before Munred went there.”
“How come the police ship got back safely?”
“That’s the one percent I’m not sure about.”
“Did Munred know they were there?”
“Shouldn’t think so. I’m going to have a job persuading his replacement of it. That’s why...”
“You mean you haven’t told them yet?” The horror was apparent on Petre’s tear-sticky face.
“No.”
“But someone else could get killed.”
Tulla saw that Petre was about to hold her responsible for Munred’s death.