Beginnings Page 10

  “Oh?”

  “She was home with a nasty virus that's been going around; confined to bed per Iseult's orders. Lots of folks visited her, so she's got wall-to-wall witnesses who can testify that she was at home constantly during the three days preceding the explosion.”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “I suppose we must conclude, then, that the Outbounders were not the saboteurs.”

  “Leaving who? The Sols—if any of them are even on Callisto? Or a lone psychopath?”

  Another shrug. “Maybe the former, but I doubt the latter. The Earth Union bureaucracy screens for mental aberrations before allowing access to Callisto.”

  “Well, then, I'm fresh out of possible suspects.”

  Perlenmann re-steepled his fingers. “Well, presuming the explosion is not an expression of madness, it must still advance the objectives of the saboteur, who is evidently not a Dirtsider, an Outbounder, and probably not a Sol.”

  “Apparently.”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “So maybe it is no longer effective to go looking for the culprit. Maybe we must trick him into standing forth where we can see him.”

  Lee frowned. “I don't understand—”

  And then, with the suddenness of an eye snapping open, Lee understood—and not just about the sabotage, but about the Fragrant Blossom's hijacking, as well. “Mr. Perlenmann, I'm going to make a quick, private call to the Gato. Then I'm going to confer with Dr. Iseult before we call for a closed-door meeting . . .”

  * * *

  Lee made sure that his face was set in grim lines when he reentered Perlenmann's briefing room later that day. His nod of greeting was returned by Iseult and the administrator. Parsons scowled at him from the far end of the table. Briggs and Xi simply looked worried.

  Lee shoved aside a few books as he sat down. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  Parsons' scowl deepened. “Yeah, well, I got a lot of work to do, so—”

  “Then we might as well get straight to it. Dr. Iseult?”

  Genevieve folded her hands in front of her but did not look up. Her voice was small and tight. “Mr. Panachuk died a few hours ago.”

  Perlenmann's eyes widened slightly. Briggs looked saddened, Xi looked concerned, and Parsons, open-mouthed, struggled to get out a single word: “What?”

  Iseult explained. “When the tank exploded, Panachuk was evidently hit by a needlelike fragment traveling at very high speed. It must have entered on the same trajectory as the larger fragment we removed. Consequently there was no separate entry wound. The smaller fragment entered high in his left lung. When Panachuk later reported intermittent coughing with slightly bloody sputum, we presumed he had come down with the same bug that recently affected Ms. Xi and so many others—all the more likely since Panachuk's burns taxed his immune system and made him particularly susceptible to opportunistic infection.

  “Possibly Panachuk didn't feel the fragment working its way inward with each coughbecause of the the pain medication he was receiving for his burns. Or possibly, he did feel it but didn't want to risk being invalided out of his job here. Either way, the first warning we had was when we found him unconscious with rapidly deteriorating coronary function.” Iseult looked away. “The fragment ultimately worked its way into his heart. By the time we isolated the problem and prepped him for surgery, he was dead.”

  Parsons had grown very pale. “Jesus Christ. Poor Panachuk. His wife Marta is—”

  “That will have to wait, Mr. Parsons,” Lee interrupted. “We've got a bigger problem to deal with.”

  Parsons frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Panachuk's death means that this is no longer merely material sabotage; the crime now includes murder—the murder of one of your people. How long do you think your workers are going to wait for the wheels of justice to turn? That's why I've asked you all to assemble here. If we don't find the killer fast, your workers may take matters into their own hands and lynch some scapegoat. Fortunately, I think we have a strong suspect.”

  Briggs blinked; Xi looked wary. “Who?” she asked.

  “Jack Carroll, chief engineer.”

  “Jack?” Parsons stared blankly at Lee. “You've got to be kidding.”

  “I'm not. He's got the know-how, he had the opportunity, and we have evidence that he tampered with the forensics results.”

  “In what way?”

  Lee leaned back. “Well, in his report, Carroll claimed that he couldn't establish the make of the commercial watch that the saboteur used as the timer for the electric igniter. I went over the evidence myself and I'm pretty sure I have been able to type the watch—which is identical to one which Carroll owned, and which he reported as missing about a week before the explosion.”

  Parsons shuddered, then shook his head. “You're wrong. Even if Carroll did it, he wouldn't have killed anybody. He could—and would—have prevented that from happening.”

  Lee frowned. “I'm not sure I understand how you reach that conclusion, Mr. Parsons.”

  Parsons scowled “Because if he really wanted to kill people, he'd have used a spark-gap igniter to touch off the hydrogen, not one of those dinky magnetic-induction igniters—”

  Parsons stopped. Lee was smiling and Perlenmann's left eyebrow had risen precipitously.

  Lee leaned forward. “Tell me, Mr. Parsons, how did you happen to know—know—that the saboteur used a magnetic-induction igniter rather than a spark-gap igniter?”

  Parsons' complexion—already pale—became corpselike.

  Lee continued. “You couldn't know about it from Carroll's final forensic report; I had that sealed, pending the conclusion of this investigation. And you couldn't have identified the igniter at our first staff meeting; it took Carroll two hours with a microscope to determine that what kind of igniter it was. So I ask you again, Mr. Parsons: how did you happen to know that the igniter used was a magnetic-induction model?”

  Parsons didn't say anything; his eyes went around the room, starting at Lee and ending at Perlenmann. Then, he started to rise—

  The door opened and Fast Eddie leaned in from the corridor, ten-millimeter automatic held securely in both hands. It was centered on Parsons' chest. Parsons sank slowly, carefully, into his seat.

  Lee leaned back with a sigh. “Mr. Parsons, I'm going to ask you this question just one more time . . .”

  * * *

  The flood of admissions came quickly once Parsons was informed that Panachuk was not only still alive, but scheduled to be released later that day. Parsons was also angry—but relieved—to learn that Carroll had never been a suspect; despite his other failings, Parsons clearly didn't want anybody else paying for his act of sabotage.

  Parsons' tale unfolded along the lines Lee had expected. Although Parsons felt the Sols were dangerous extremists, he was an ardent undisclosed Spacer, and so was also concerned both by the Upsiders' accommodation with their Dirtside masters. So he concocted a scheme designed to correct both problems.

  By crafting the fuel tank sabotage to look like a Solist political statement, Parsons was certain that the Earth Union would crack down broadly in response to the sabotage and thereby spawn an Upsider backlash against Dirtside oppression.

  However, Parsons had planned to simultaneously rally the Upsiders to mount “vigilance patrols” that would ultimately be credited with successfully suppressing farther “Sol violence” on Callisto. The moderate Greens would no doubt crow over the “elimination of treason on Callisto” and proudly point to the self-policing Upsiders as the means whereby it was eliminated, thereby making them poster children for the argument that, with proper incentives, spaceside communities could be made to aid Earth Union interests.

  Of course, that would demonstrate to those same “exemplary” Upsiders that they could wrest concessions from the Dirtsiders if they were organized and proactive. In the long run, Parsons had hoped that the Earth Union would entrust more of the operation of Callisto to Upside hands, and in so doing, make the confidential technologies more
accessible to the Spacers who would then carry that information to their independent enclaves in the Belt. There, those technologies would be developed and disseminated to increase the collective power position of the Upsiders in relation to their terrestrial masters.

  “But I had nothing to do with the scanner sabotage,” Parsons finished. “Not as though that will help me much now. So let's just get it over with.”

  Perlenmann cocked his head. “Get what over with?”

  “Don't toy with me, Perlenmann. I know what happens next. I've confessed, you sentence. That's part of your job as administrator.”

  Lee released a slow sigh. He was glad his part in this mess was over. Maybe now things would start settling down . . .

  Perlenmann's words ruined that nascent hope. “Mr. Parsons, I am willing to suspend your sentence and permanently seal the record of these proceedings—and of Lieutenant Strong's investigation—if you will agree to undertake a special community service project.”

  Iseult looked from Perlenmann to Lee. “Can he do that?”

  Lee nodded, his mind racing ahead, trying to see where this was all leading. “Yes, he can, Doctor. Even though I was running the investigation, Mr. Perlenmann is this facility's de facto judicial authority.”

  Perlenmann nodded to acknowledge the correctness of Lee's comment. “Just so. Mr. Parsons, are you interested in this solution?”

  Parsons was still staring at Perlenmann as though the administrator had grown another head. “Uh . . . sure. Yes.”

  “Then, Mr. Parsons, here is what you must do. You must convene an open forum comprised not only of Upsiders and Spacers, but Outbounders and Dirtsiders, as well. And your first collective act must be to renounce violence. After that, you are to use the forum to air your concerns to the entire community. This means that the entire community will also hear the often contending concerns and viewpoints of your adversaries. If you achieve no more than that, I will be satisfied. We need to exchange views, not blows, here on Callisto.”

  Perlenmann glanced over at Lee, smiling. Lee smiled back and nodded. Yes, it was all becoming clear now. Very clear.

  Perlenmann was concluding. “Do you agree to these terms, Mr. Parsons?”

  Parsons nodded, dumbfounded. “Y-yes. Sure.”

  Lee nodded at Perlenmann. “And it's all by the book, isn't it?”

  Perlenmann smiled again. “Yes; quite.” Then he stared at Parsons and proclaimed. “Mr. Parsons, having agreed to fulfill the service required, you are free to go. But fair warning: if you perpetrate, incite, or encourage any farther violence to persons or property on Callisto, I shall reopen the file on this matter, have you incarcerated, and remand you to Earth for appropriate sentencing on the charges of sabotage and treason.”

  Parsons stood, looked anxious to be off. Lee smiled. He probably wants to get the hell out of this room before Perlenmann comes to his senses and throws the book at him. Which is what should have happened.

  Perlenmann nodded. “You may go.”

  Parsons exited, followed closely by Briggs, Xi, and Cabral. The little Brazilian still kept his eyes on Parsons—and one hand on his holstered gun. Iseult, with another raised-eyebrow glance at Lee, followed them out.

  As the door closed behind them, Lee shook his head. “Bravo, Mr. Perlenmann. A command performance.”

  Perlenmann's smile dimmed somewhat. “I'm afraid I don't understand you, Lieutenant.”

  “Mr. Perlenmann, you understand me so well that you have been able to control me like a marionette without my knowing it. Except that you did step over the line of legality one time—and that's what gave you away.”

  Perlenmann smiled. “And what is this purported oversight of mine?”

  “Oh, it wasn't an oversight; you just didn't have a choice. The scanner, Perlenmann. You sabotaged the scanner.”

  The smile widened. “And why would I do such a thing?”

  Lee indicated the cluttered table. “Well, partly because of the books—which the current Earth Union censorship prevents from being distributed anymore.”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “I fail to see your reasoning. Why scan books that I already have, as do a number of Upside libraries?”

  “You're not worried about Upside readers, Mr. Perlenmann. Your concern is with Outbound readers, particularly those in coming generations who would otherwise be deprived of the true depth and breadth of human thought, innovation, and imagination. So, since the Dirtside censors control what goes into the colony ships' data banks, you realized that the only way to work around their restrictions was to create your own, uncensored graphical library.

  “But the old secure scanner wasn't the right tool for that job. It was too slow. So you got something that can capture pages in the blink of an eye. And all those images are probably hidden with false file names, or mixed into other data records on the Outbounder colony ships.”

  Perlenmann smiled. “Better than that. The library files are hidden among compressed backups of earlier versions of navigational software. The Outbounders will not even be aware of them until several years into their journey. At a preset date, the archives will unfold themselves and alert the crew to their existence.” He leaned back. “So, you have discovered my heinous crime. I am at your mercy.”

  “You might not want to make a joke of that just yet, Administrator Perlenmann, because I'm not done. You see, I started thinking about how your sabotaging the secure scanner might answer some of the other mysteries I've been grappling with. Like how it might be related to the hijacking of the Fragrant Blossom.”

  Perlenmann raised an eyebrow; his tone was wry. “So those pirates were after my scanner, too? I was not informed that it has such an inexplicably high market value.”

  “Actually, it's you who had the inside information on its value, and it was the hijackers who didn't. But let's stop calling them that; they were paid assassins, sent to retrieve something they never found. Because it was hidden in that scanner, right there.” Lee pointed at the unit.

  Perlenmann's smile vanished.

  Lee tapped the scanner in a slow rhythm. “It's been said that the best place to hide a big crime is deep within a small one. And that's what you did. Sure; you wanted the new scanner. And if you had been caught, you could always have blushed and smiled a little and all would have been well. And no one would have thought to look any closer at the new secure scanner—which was in fact a data mule. Oh, I know you intend to use it to digitize your library, too, but its real purpose was as a means of transmitting illegal, even treasonous, data, stored as coded ‘test images' on the scanner's chip. And unless I'm much mistaken, that's what the assassins on the Blossom were actually after. They were there to intercept that data. That's why they didn't give a damn about hostages, or stealing the ship. It's why they had to stay aboard her, letting her drift, attracting no attention, while they tried to locate the hidden data. It's why they had an armed, high-speed getaway ship waiting at 216 Kleopatra to retrieve the information, debrief the hijackers, and then probably liquidate them.”

  “And yes, we found a large store of test images in the scanner. We made a record of them, but they didn't make any sense to us until now. But I suspect that if we had the right cipher, we'd discover why someone was willing to send assassins to retrieve that information—and why, as its recipient, you're willing to live a double-life that smacks of treasonous intent.”

  “I'm curious, Lieutenant. What led you to conjecture that I was the recipient for such secret data?”

  Lee shrugged. “Part of my research involved going over your confidential logs, which include the base's comm records. I went back and checked the transmissions to and from the Fragrant Blossom during its prior arrivals. There was almost no communication between you. But this time, from the moment the Fragrant Blossom left her orbital berth at Mars, you were in constant contact with her.” Lee smiled. “Obviously, you and her captain had a lot to talk about. And that was a lucky coincidence for you, because if you hadn't set up a regular cal
l-in schedule with the Blossom's CO, you'd have never learned about the hijacking in time to alert us.”

  “Oh, luck had nothing to do with our frequent communications, Lieutenant Strong. That was our attempt to discourage the assassins we already feared might be on board the Blossom.”

  Lee stared. “What do you mean?”

  “Lieutenant Strong, although the Blossom's captain did not have any definitive proof, he had considerable reservations regarding several late-booking passengers, as well as one or two replacement crewmembers. He communicated these reservations to me and so we made a very public point of establishing a relatively frequent check-in schedule, which included information that we hoped would deter any potential mutineers. For instance, I mentioned several times that your cutter was within the area, as well as your sister-ship, the Revered Timberland. Clearly, we underestimated the determination of our opponents.”

  Lee heard the self-recriminatory tone. “Don't blame yourself, Mr. Perlenmann. These assassins weren't going to let anything interfere with their plans.”

  Perlenmann nodded, stared at Lee. “I'm not sure you know the full truth of your own words, Lieutenant Strong. Only two days prior to their attack, the Revered Timberland—or Ravenous Tiburon, in your parlance—was called away to provide emergency medical aid to a small, temporary mining outpost deeper in the asteroid belt.”

  “So what? We get those calls all the time.”

  “I'm sure you do—but not about outposts that don't exist. But this hoax had a most impressive pedigree. The message had a valid Customs Patrol authorization code affixed to it. And when the Tiburon departed, it also ensured that yours was the only ship left in the area.”

  Lee felt cold streak down his spine. “What are you implying?”

  Perlenmann held out his hands. “I should think it is obvious. The closest of the two ships that could have come to the aid of Flagrant Blossom was officially ordered to a distant location only two days before the hijackers acted. So who was left alone in the approximate vicinity of the attack site? Why, a junior commander. A commander with no prior combat experience. A commander from a family with questionable political affiliations. A commander who, by all reports, was getting along entirely too well with the crew of the Venerated Gaia, a.k.a. Venereal Gato.” Perlenmann, looked at Lee over steepled fingers. “You know, don't you, that positive reviews and reactions from your Upsider crew is actually a matter of grave concern to your superiors?”