Shroud of Eden (Panhelion Chronicles Book 1)

by Marlin Desault

  A morose Wimund smiled half-heartedly from the far side of a polished surface. “Are they willing to forgo the inspection of our planet? You know we will never permit it.” He spoke in a tone that left no doubt. “And it’s quite unnecessary given how passive our people are.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Scott said, his eyebrows pinched. “Why wouldn’t you allow inspection?”

  “Mister Ambassador, we are a sovereign government.” Wimund’s demeanor took on a decidedly formal tone. “We’ve never threatened the Panhelion either by word or deed. Such inspections would be an unacceptable intrusion. You said yourself that Earth would not permit such an insult. Why do you then think we would allow something you would refuse if the situation were reversed?”

  Scott leaned forward in his chair with the hope that he could persuade Wimund. “Proconsul, I’m convinced you pose no threat, but my government insists on inspections. My instructions are to negotiate some sort of compromise with you. I’ve thought it over, and I have a proposal.”

  Wimund put his fingers tips on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “I’m eager to hear your idea.”

  A distant roll of thunder echoed off the cliff behind the Refectory, and through the partially open great window behind Proconsul. Scott viewed clouds gathering in the sky as a light breeze wafted through the room, and the smell of dampness hinted at the coming rain.

  “Instead of our inspectors actually landing and searching Niobe, the Panhelion might agree to a search from above. If you allow our ships to orbit and examine Niobe from above, the Panhelion might be satisfied that you pose no threat and forgo inspections on the surface. This would be far less intrusive, don’t you agree?”

  The portal door slid open, allowing a gust of wind to swirl across the room. Wimund spun around in time to see a red-faced and out of breath Chancellor Linghtaz burst into the room.

  Linghtaz waddled, as fast as his bulk would allow, across the room to Proconsul’s desk. “This is terrible. How can such a thing happen?” Linghtaz managed to blurt out between gulps of air, his corpulent body quivering as he spoke.

  Wimund raised a calming hand in front of the panicked man. “Get hold of yourself, Cadfye. It can’t be as bad as all that. Now tell us, what has happened?”

  “He’s dead. Dead I say.”

  Wimund’s eyebrows lifted in a high arch. “Dead? Who is dead?”

  Linghtaz stood gasping for breath. After his breathing shallowed, he blurted out, “The Earth man. The one they call Vogelein. He’s dead.”

  Scott shot to his feet. “Anton? Dead? How? I want to see him.”

  Linghtaz motioned Scott to follow, and with Proconsul lagging behind, they rushed out of the room.

  They crossed smooth grass to the far side of the Refectory terrace. In the shadow of the high cliff, a pebbled path wound through a grove of tall conifers. On the ground lay a crumpled shape partially hidden by a thicket of tall ferns.

  “Over here. There!” Linghtaz bent the ferns to the side and pointed a trembling finger at the crumpled form.

  The young comm officer lay face down. Behind his right ear, a reddish clot matted his hair, and a bloody streak traced down his neck. A puddle of dark red blood stained the ground.

  Several Niobians attracted by the noise and Proconsul’s presence gathered a few meters away from the scene, talking in hushed voices. Their eyes darted back and forth between Scott and Anton’s body.

  “When did you discover this?” Scott struggled to calm his voice.

  “A few minutes ago,” the flustered chancellor said, his gaze fixed on the body. “I was returning from the residence of Commander Van der Meer to meet with Proconsul. At first, I didn’t know who it was. When I looked closer, I saw it was the young man from your crew.”

  Scott stood over Anton’s lifeless body. “Did you hear anything? Anything at all?”

  “No, only the thunder of the storm and the wind blowing through the trees. Only that,” Linghtaz stammered.

  Scott struggled to comprehend the sight before him. What possible motive was there? He knelt beside Anton and lifted a pale hand. His eyes misted over, blurring his vision, and an ache grew in his chest as the truth worked its way into his consciousness. He had lost a devoted companion and crewmember. “We must find whoever did this.”

  In a fast but dignified walk, Proconsul finally caught up with them, breathing heavily, his face pallid with fear. He squatted next to Anton’s body and stared at the red-stained wound.

  Scott fought to contain the anger raging in his mind. A new reality then dawned on him: the role of ambassador would take second place to the search for the killer.

  The faraway look of Wimund’s face betrayed his somber mood. He got to his feet and put an arm on Scott’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry for your loss. He was a fine young man. I liked him very much.”

  Scott thanked him for the expression of sympathy, and the rush of adrenaline in Scott’s veins faded as practical issues forced their way into his thoughts. He now had an interstellar incident on his hands. A suspicion, until now unthinkable, burdened him. Could one of the Niobians have committed murder in spite of all the rhetoric about their nonviolent nature? He studied Wimund’s face for a possible tell.

  He shifted closer to Anton’s body, still holding Anton’s lifeless hand. A barely perceptible coldness had set in. “I can’t say for sure, but he hasn’t been dead for very long.” He turned the body over to look for any additional wounds, and found none.

  “I take it that you have no one trained to deal with murder?” Scott cast a hard gaze at Linghtaz and Wimund.

  Linghtaz wrung his hands. “A murder? Not here. Impossible! Not in all our history has there ever been a murder. Never.” He blanched, showing symptoms that he was about to be sick.

  As if to wash away the whole incident, Linghtaz rubbed his hands over and over. “We’ve no one who knows anything about murder. We never expected we would have to deal with one. It’s quite beyond our comprehension.”

  “You have a hospital, don’t you? I suggest you take Anton’s body there.”

  Proconsul called out to the chancellor. “Cadfye, please see to it.” He stood and regained his composure.

  Scott scanned the scene—no weapon, no debris. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “I’d like to go with Anton’s body.”

  The timing of the event struck Scott full force. An hour ago, he was explaining the Panhelion offers to Proconsul, and in return had received a long description of the tranquil nature of Niobe. Now, it seemed, visitors from Earth had delivered an example of the dark side of human nature, and it fell to Scott to prove otherwise, knowing Wimund no doubt suspected one of Pegasus’ crew had murdered Anton.

  Proconsul ran his hand back and forth across his forehead. “The sooner we know the details, the better. I’m confident no Niobian had a part in this, but in any event our people will certainly be traumatized by the event.” He stood, arms crossed and feet apart. “To say Niobe will be a different planet from today on is not an understatement. I can only guess what that difference will be, but it won’t bring us closer to our cousins from Earth.”

  The promised rain began as a light drizzle.

  Scott organized the Niobians standing nearby, and within a matter of minutes they found a blanket, rolled Anton’s body on it, and started across the terrace to a waiting glide-car.

  Twenty minutes later, in a room smelling of antiseptic and filled with gleaming metal instruments, Wimund introduced two men to Scott as the local doctor and his assistant.

  At the sight of the body stretched out on a shiny, metal table, and the death pallor of Anton’s face, Scott balled his fist as if to punch the wall. Instead, he rubbed his knuckles and concentrated on clearing his mind of the anger distorting his ability to think.

  The doctor gripped a device suspended on a long folding beam and pulled it next to the table. A three dimensional image of Anton’s head projected into view. “This is the only injury we found.” His finger re
sted on a small dark spot. “We removed this object from the skull of the dead man.”

  He opened his hand and offered Scott a small cylinder, rounded on one end.

  Scott took the object and rolled it between his fingers. “I know what it is.”

  Niobe

  ~~~

  Scott rotated the one-centimeter long missile between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s from one of our PLM 40 sidearms.” He held the little missile up to Proconsul. “If you look carefully, you’ll see the exhaust ports in one end. These miniature guided rockets launched from our sidearms can drop a person in near silence at a distance of a hundred meters, and with guidance from internal pattern recognition circuits, they don’t miss.”

  Wimund flinched at the sight of the object. “We’ve nothing like it. The one who did this can’t be one of us. No Niobian would possess or know how to use such a weapon.” He shook his head. “The killer must certainly be one of your crew.”

  Scott pocketed the projectile. “I can’t rule out the possibility that one of your people took a weapon from my crew.” He whirled round to face the doctor. “Where are Anton’s clothes?”

  The doctor pointed to a basket in the corner of the room.

  Scott picked through the basket, sorting through Anton’s bloodstained uniform. “His sidearm is missing. Did anyone take anything else from his body?”

  The doctor stood motionless with his arms crossed. “No, I was here when the orderly received him. The body had only the clothes and items you see there.”

  Scott held the bloody uniform in his hands. “We have to find the weapon. Can you have someone you trust make a search of the terrace?”

  Wimund cupped his chin as if in thought. “Linghtaz will do it. You understand we have no experience with this sort of thing, but we’ll make our science available.” His eyes brightened as if he had an idea. “We have a behavioral psychologist, Doctor Bouche. He’s the only one I can think of who may be of help, and he’s here in the hospital.” Wimund exhaled a deep breath. “Bouche is a brilliant man in his field, but I’m afraid his knowledge is limited to our personality types. When it comes to your crew, his experience may not be of much help.”

  A sudden thought struck Scott: he had to let Admiral Delmar know what had happened. “I must return to my ship and report back to Earth.” News of Anton’s death could provoke the wrong reacton from Earth.

  Wimund held his folded hands to his front. “Do you think that’s wise? They may reach a hasty conclusion, complicating our diplomatic discussions. Why don’t you wait a few days until you’ve had a chance to solve this crime?”

  Ironic, Scott mused. Wimund worries about what those on Earth will think of the Niobians, and I worry about what the Niobians will think of us. “You’re probably right, but if I delay reporting Anton’s death, my superiors might question my motives.” He chewed lightly on his lip as he considered his decision. “I’ll hold off as long as possible, and when I do let them know, I’ll do my best to persuade them to hold off on any decision. In any event, my investigation here will delay my return to my ship.”

  “I understand, Captain, but even a small delay may help.”

  “I have another favor to ask. If we do find a possible suspect, is there someplace we can confine that person? A guard may be necessary.”

  “There’s never been a need.” Wimund paused a moment, then his eyes widened again. “We can create a suitable place of confinement, but the guard is another matter. Our people have no concept of the use of physical force to constrain another person.”

  Scott couldn’t allow Klaas and Marie to roam free, at least not until he figured out if one or both were involved. “How soon can you have such a facility ready?”

  “In an hour or so. We can grow a special portal over the entrance, to an existing room secure enough for your purpose. In the meantime, Linghtaz and a few of his trusted aides will search the terrace.”

  They stepped out of the hospital into the warm pummel of the rain. The overcast didn’t improve Scott’s mood. He had to report Anton’s murder, and at some point Admiral Camus would hear about the death. He had no doubts Camus would use it against both him and Admiral Delmar.

  Marie and Klaus had puzzled expressions when Scott asked them to join him in his quarters.

  “Something wrong, Captain?” Klaas muttered. “You look a bit pale.”

  “Yes, something is very wrong. Anton is dead.”

  Marie’s eyes narrowed. “How did it happen?”

  “He was killed with a PLM 40.” Scott eyed Klaas and kept his hand ready at his holster. “Give me your sidearms.”

  Klaas arched his brows and handed over his PLM.

  Scott took the weapon and held out his hand to Marie. “Now yours.”

  Her lips pulled back showing her teeth, and she flared her nostrils. “Captain, one of the locals murdered Anton. You aren’t falling for all that non-dominance, non-aggression nonsense, are you? If you leave us defenseless, and anything happens to us, it’ll be on your head.” Marie reluctantly handed over her weapon as well.

  “You’ll be safe. If you’re worried about the locals, as you call them, I’ll be close enough to ensure they’re no threat to either of you.”

  He looked over both weapons, checking for signs that either one had been fired. They were both at full capacity, the launch tubes showing no sign of residue. He tucked them into the leg pocket of his uniform.

  “May we go now?” Marie growled.

  “No, new quarters are being prepared for you. You’ll stay there for the time being.”

  “Confinement?” she snorted. “I’ll make my own report, and I’ll make sure it goes all the way to the top. You won’t get away with this outrage.”

  He had no doubt her threat was real, but for the time being he had to personally keep watch over them until Proconsul had created a secure place to hold them. Despite his belief that the Niobians wouldn’t harm them, he had to figure a way to ensure their safety.

  After a few minutes, he had an idea.

  Half an hour later, Proconsul appeared at the door. “Ambassador, the facility you requested is available. Regrettably, we’ve found no trace of the murder weapon.”

  Scott escorted Klaas and Marie across the Refectory to confinement.

  The room entrance was covered by a half-meter-thick growth of the same type of tiny, tightly woven stems and leaves he had seen in the buildings so common on Niobe. It reminded him of a hedge of tiny strong threads. Food and water could be passed through double entry doors without the need for a guard—simple and effective.

  Proconsul had completed the task with surprising speed.

  With glum expressions, Klaas and Marie exchanged glances.

  Marie shot a piercing stare Scott’s way. “How long are you going to hold us while the real killer runs loose?”

  Klaas followed suit. “You have no evidence implicating us, and no reason to treat us this way. Marie is right. This is an outrage.”

  Scott returned the sour looks cast his way. “Consider it another way. I expect to either clear you or know who the killer is within a few days. Meanwhile, you’ll be safe here. I’m returning to the ship. I’ve told Proconsul I’ll turn the ship’s weapons against his people if any harm comes to either of you.” The matter settled, he did an about face and marched out.

  As he headed back to his quarters, he ran into Proconsul and Linghtaz. A tall balding man with a wide mustache shuffled along with them.

  Proconsul, his expression grim, waved his hand toward the mustachioed man. “This is Doctor Bouche. He’s offered to help your investigation.”

  Scott took Bouche’s hand, noting his firm grasp and vigorous shake. Its warmth reassured him. “Where do we start?”

  “I’ve already started, Mister Ambassador,” Bouche said. “I’ve interviewed the Niobians who were at the scene. They’re in a state of shock, of course, but none of them claims to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, and they seem sincere. If you permit, I�
�d like to talk to your crew as well.”

  “I’ll personally take you to them.” Scott and Bouche trudged to the confinement quarters, and he introduced Klaus and Marie.

  Marie fumed and sulked in a corner of the room. “Now we have to submit to interrogation by a damn Niobian.”

  “Marie, make it easy on yourself and on everyone else,” Scott said, his patience wearing thin. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all get back to normal.” He spun on his heel and left the three alone.

  Two hours later, Bouche joined him outside. “I can’t rule either one of them out as a possible murderer, but then my experience may not be an accurate guide. From what I can tell, the woman, the lieutenant, has a brilliant mind. I would think she’s an expert and highly respected in her field.”

  “She was chosen for this mission because she’s a respected physicist.”

  Ah,” Bouche replied. “Despite her keen intellect, she has some rather rigidly held beliefs. If she perceives a threat to her convictions, it may manifest itself in extreme behavior.”

  “You mean like murder?”

  “That’s outside my ability to say.”

  Scott tilted his ear toward the doctor. “Do you have an opinion on Commander Van der Meer?”

  “Oh yes, the commander. He has a bit of pent-up aggression, unusual by our standards but probably not by yours, although that may not mean much in this case. His spatial grasp is exceptional. He’d make a fine navigator.” Bouche smiled with an easy, confident manner.

  Exasperated at the lack of progress in solving the murder, Scott ran his hand through his hair. “He’s our navigator and ship systems manager, as well as my Second-in-Command.”

  He thanked the psychiatrist and hurried the short distance to the administration room to conduct his own interview of the Niobians. None of them had seen anyone leaving the scene. At a dead end, he decided to return to Pegasus to write his report.

  The shuttle take-off checklist complete, Scott steered the craft through low patchy clouds into the sapphire-blue Niobian exosphere, and on to Pegasus waiting dutifully in orbit for his return.