Remains

by Mark W. Tiedemann

  “Yeah,” Mace said. “It helps.” He pointed. “There are Lunessa credit vouchers in that duffle. Be careful, you can sell them in the Heavy”

  The boy glanced at the cot, eyes wide, then back at Mace.

  Mace left him in the room, closing the door as he exited.

  In the lobby, three men waited. Mace recognized them immediately—not who they were, but what they were: local vigilantes-cum-vacuum dealers-cum-self-appointed protection. Mace was surprised they had waited this long to confront him. He checked how much room he had to move, their sizes and positions. Two of them looked like muscle, which meant the third man made the judgments.

  “You,” the smallest one said, jabbing a finger at him. “What do you want here?”

  “No trouble,” Mace said. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Do they know?”

  One of the larger men moved to Mace’s left. Mace pointed at him. “Don’t.”

  The man hesitated.

  “I don’t work for anyone,” Mace said. “Not corporate, not Structural Authority.”

  “Oh? You just do this sort of thing yourself?”

  “This time maybe for you, too.” The man on his left began to move again. Mace took a step backward and spoke directly to him. “Powder on steel,” he said, using Heavy slang, meaning the man could not take him. “No gain trying.”

  The other muscle laughed. Their employer smiled.

  “SA,” he said, “doesn’t grace us with security unless they think we’re a threat to upshaft. We watch out for each other.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Who are you looking for?”

  Mace took out the picture. “New arrival,” he said extending the print. “Lunessa.”

  The spokesman stepped closer to study the image. He frowned. “Seen this one. Not much. Why are you looking for him?”

  “That’s personal.”

  “Lunessa keep to themselves longer than anybody else. They don’t mingle easy. Mostly, they keep to themselves and go to that church they have.”

  “Where? Is there a Temple chapter near here?”

  “No. Outer shell. Arc forty, forty-five maybe.”

  Mace pocketed the picture. “There was another Lunessa this one was here visiting. Eiler.”

  “Haven’t seen Eiler in days. Seen him, though.”

  “Did you question him like this?”

  The man drew a deep breath. “This is personal, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s armed.” He made a shooting gesture with his right hand, two fingers aimed at Mace, thumb angle straight up.

  “You’re kidding.”

  The man looked from one bodyguard to the other. “Am I lying?”

  Both of the muscle shook their heads.

  “I see,” Mace said after a pause. “Thank you. May I go now?”

  The three stepped back and gave him room. He walked between them, heart racing, his limbs coursing with cool fire, adrenalized. He glanced back once on his way to the shunt station.

  No one followed him that he could see.

  He caught a shunt antispinward to arc forty-five. There he crossed the platform to the spoke lift and went ring to ring to the outermost, getting off in the Heavy. He asked directions to the Temple of Homo Relmaginoratus. The eighth person he questioned knew roughly where it was.

  At the end of a shallow alcove that might once have housed a piece of equipment long dismantled, recycled and forgotten, Mace found the broad entryway to the Temple, marked only by a yellow lemniscate superimposed on a blue triangle. Though clean of the signs of neglect, it looked sadly anachronistic, from a time when mysticism offered a fashionable alternative to the simple imperatives of survival and arcane symbols (especially newly made ones) evoked an aesthetic response all out of proportion to what they symbolized.

  Mace pressed the mici at the center of the lemniscate and waited. People passing in the circuit beyond gave him curious looks, a few tolerant smiles and one dedicated scowl of disapproval. He pressed it again. When no one answered, he tried the door. Locked.

  “Now what?” he muttered, turning away. Perhaps he could get comm access to it. That in mind, he started back to the circuit.

  “Mr. Preston. I didn’t think we would actually meet until tomorrow morning.”

  From a narrow doorway set in the wall to the right of the main entrance Linder Koeln looked out at him.

  Mace stood in the center of the sanctuary and surveyed the walls, the icons and emblems, the tall-backed chairs, the pedestals, columns and obelisks etched with signs and ornate lettering, the dais and podium, the painting of Gaia adorning the rear of the sacristy, the sconces, standards and other detritus of ritual. The domed ceiling glittered with constellations; the same symbol adorning the main door covered the floor. The light, the vague scent of soil and cedar, and the chill temperature combined into an aesthetic fog of representative illusion.

  The room was slightly disarrayed, chairs moved, a sconce fallen to the floor.

  “What do you think?” Koeln asked as he went around straightening chairs.

  “It’s not what I expected.” Mace gestured. “Untidy.”

  “Someone’s been here looking for something,” Koeln said, raising the fallen sconce. “There’s evidence of searching in the other rooms as well.”

  “Any idea who?”

  Koeln shook his head. “Not a Lunessa. This kind of disrespect, even for a disbeliever, is highly unlikely”

  “Are you a believer? Is that why you’re contaminating a crime scene?”

  “Crime scene?” He smiled thinly. “I’m witness enough. Unless some reason can be found for the vandalism, SA won’t take an interest. But no, I’m not a believer anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m disrespectful. You’ve never been inside a Relmaginoratus Temple before?”

  “No. There’s no chapter on Mars, at least not one I’m aware of.”

  “That seems strange to me. But then, I grew up with them.”

  “Do you still attend?”

  “Oh, no. I broke with all this when I came here. Many Lunessa do.”

  “Why is that?”

  “In my case, I couldn’t seem to maintain the proper frame of mind here, on Aea. In Lunase it’s easier. There, this is all a bright place in a hole full of sameness.”

  “So Aea’s not dull enough?”

  “Something like that. The religion itself is laced with nostalgia about Earth and how wonderful it was and how somehow we are no longer worthy of that wonderfulness. Then you arrive here and learn that things can be wonderful anyway. The nostalgia remains very strong, though. I think that’s really why most people attend. Those who do, at least.”

  “I thought it was required.”

  “Socially, at least in Lunase, it has benefits. But there’s no law.” He pointed at different wall hangings. “You can see by the symbolism that it’s an amalgam of other sects. Judaism, Catholicism, Masonry, Islam. All those orders still have small followings, but in the days immediately after the Exclusion, when it seemed that we might all die, I think people wanted to be more together than apart.”

  “‘Man Reimagined’?”

  Koeln shrugged. “I don’t pretend to understand the mysteries. A new being is necessary for life off the Earth, one that combines nature’s evolution with the evolution that is to come. Something like that. But what matters is that it gave us a center, a point of reference. It filled a need.”

  “Vacuum.”

  Koeln smiled. “That’s very cynical, but yes, in a way. Black-market religion. Borrowed from Earth and redistributed according to different necessities. Just like everything else out here.”

  “You sound like you miss it.”

  “I miss the innocence that permitted belief. I miss the purpose of devotion. I miss the thrill of the rituals when they meant something to me. But things pass. We grow. It’s sad to think of it all becoming fanatic and desperate.” He shook his head and sighed. “So what brings you here, Mr. Preston?” />
  “Probably the same thing that brought you here. Glim Toler.”

  “Ah. So you arc acquainted with him?”

  “No. I’d never heard his name until you introduced it to me. Now it seems everything keeps forcing me to pay attention to him. Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

  “Partly, yes. I’ve been investigating an internal PolyCarb problem. His name came up. It attached itself to an employee of ours—”

  “Nemily Dollard.”

  “—yes, her. And when I looked into her past, I found your dead wife’s name on both her jacket and Glim Toler’s.”

  “InFlux jackets.”

  Koeln nodded absently. “And that led me to you. You seemed a natural suspect.”

  “Suspect for what? Data theft? I don’t do that. Any data I traffic in is acquired legitimately.”

  “That’s what you tell your clients anyway I’m sure.”

  Mace laughed softly. “I don’t steal it and neither do my people.”

  “Hmm. In any event, you’re now looking for Toler as well. What about Ms. Dollard?”

  “What about her?”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t really know right now.”

  Koeln studied him for a time. “Do you have any idea why your wife’s name is being used to sponsor Lunessa immigrants?”

  “Is that all it’s being used for?”

  “As far as I know,” Koeln said.

  “Someone has a tasteless sense of humor, perhaps.”

  “I doubt it was an accidental choice.”

  “Perhaps Glim Toler can tell us,” Mace suggested.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Did you search his dom?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Don’t bother. He hasn’t been there. This seemed the next most likely place.”

  “Well,” Koeln sighed, “there’s no one here, either. Not even the patri.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Very. Her office has been searched, too.”

  “Should we alert SA?”

  Koeln shook his head. “If they start running around down here, they could alert whoever may be responsible for her absence. It could prove more troublesome than useful.”

  “You’re not worried that she might be harmed?”

  “No Lunessa would hurt a patri of the Temple.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it, then.” Mace watched the man. Koeln was difficult to read. So far their conversation had not gone the way Mace had expected. “What brought you here today? Nostalgia?”

  “Related business.”

  “And none of mine?”

  “You don’t work for us anymore, Mr. Preston.”

  “I see. Related to Toler, though, I imagine. Let’s see. He’s Lunessa. Odds are he might come here to connect with other Lunessa. The patri might know him or know of him.”

  “The thought did occur to me.”

  “Is there any history of the Temple being used as a front for terrorists?”

  Koeln stared at him. “That’s a long leap to a conclusion.”

  “I’m a Martian. We’re used to talking long strides.”

  Koeln laughed. “No, Mr. Preston, there is no such history. But it’s not out of the question.”

  “How long has PolyCarb known that Helen’s name was being used?”

  “It only came to my attention when this Toler question came up.”

  Mace wondered how the Toler question had come up, but doubted Koeln would tell him. “So it may have been in the files for a long time before anyone actually noticed.”

  “You know how it works.”

  “I do. Of course, Nemily immigrated two and half years ago, well after Helen’s death. She couldn’t have done it, then. Not for Nemily Dollard, not for Glim Toler. Ergo, there’s a third person involved.”

  “That’s an obvious conclusion,” Koeln said.

  “And you think I might be that third person?”

  “Personally, no. But I have to follow up all possibilities. I am curious why you resigned. I know you didn’t believe your wife had died. You made it very clear you thought PolyCarb was hiding something about her death. If it had been me, I would have stayed inside in order to find out what.”

  “Yeah, well, that wasn’t about to work either.”

  “And now?”

  “I settled with PolyCarb.”

  “But you haven’t stopped looking.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You’re here.”

  Mace made a slow survey of the sanctuary. “The patri isn’t here. What are you going to do next?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “We’re looking for a Lunessa. This is the first logical stop. Time to move on to the next one.”

  “Reese Nagel?”

  Through midcycle, Reese’s venue attracted no attention, the plain facade with its unremarkable numbers much the same as any other part of the bulkhead. People flowed by without noticing it. Until the doors opened and the overadapted gatekeepers took their positions, 5555 did not exist.

  Mace excused himself before they reached the door. He crossed the circuit to a public commlink and punched in his dom code. Nemily had still not returned, nor did she answer at her own dom. Mace rejoined Koeln at the entrance to 5555.

  After the third mici, the smaller access door opened a crack and a face peered out. Mace recognized her, the one who had been Reese’s personal muscle—two nights ago?—what was her name... ?

  “Coif. Is Reese in?”

  “What for?” Her voice was startlingly small for her size.

  “Talk.”

  “Then no.”

  “Now or later,” Koeln said. “Later we come with SA.”

  Coif narrowed her eyes at him, but retreated, opening the door further. She led them down a close passage, three meters, and into a space

  that once had contained maintenance equipment. The walls still showed the shapes of the cabinets, the holes for retaining bolts, the faded and torn lettering describing tools or procedures. Carpeted now, four chairs lined one wall, and a small monitor filled the corner above and to the left of the inside door.

  “Wait,” Coif said and left them.

  “What interests me—”

  Mace casually tapped his ear and gave a small shake of the head.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Koeln went on smoothly. “Is it worth the trouble?”

  “It’s unique. I’ve only been here once myself.”

  The door opened again and Coif waved them through into the main area.

  Unpeopled, the club space looked smaller. The ringed area in which the projection had been was less than three meters across. The topography of raised platforms cramped it even more and its original design as some sort of control room, now stripped of its consoles and monitors and the energy of its first purpose, gave it an abandoned look, uncompensated by the presence of tables and a long bar and new bright colors on the bulkheads.

  Coif took them across the floor, then up to Reese’s office.

  Reese sat behind his broad desk, eyes on a flatscreen, one hand tapping occasionally on a keyboard. His gaze shifted to his guests, lingering a moment on Mace, who nodded in greeting, and locking on Koeln for the entire time it took to reach the chairs.

  “A moment,” Reese said and his attention returned to the screen.

  Coif stood just inside the door.

  Abruptly, Reese drew a sharp breath, stabbed his keyboard dramatically, and the screen disappeared into the desktop. He smiled.

  “May I offer you anything to drink? To eat?”

  “You may offer us an explanation,” Koeln said. “The local Temple has been tossed. Patri Simity the rector, is missing. What do you know about it?”

  “Not on the menu. Anything else?”

  “I can bring a Structural Authority mandate and team here later if you like.” />
  “You can and they still wouldn’t be on the menu. I don’t have them.”

  “Them?”‘ Koeln said.

  “You didn’t search the Temple?” Mace asked.

  “No.” Reese smiled thinly. He raised his hands. “What can I tell you? The truth would be best, so I’ll tell you the truth. I know nothing about Patri Simity’s whereabouts.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” Koeln said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t think very much of anything happens in the Heavy that you don’t know about,” Koeln said. “Consider that a compliment.”

  Reese tipped his head in mock gratitude. “I still don’t know anything about this one. Frankly, Patri Simity’s and I don’t share much in the way of interests.”

  “There was someone here the other night,” Mace said, “someone who came in the company of an invited guest. Did you invite Patri Simity?”

  “I always invite Patri Simity She rarely comes—”

  “But,” Mace said, “you have few shared interests.”

  “It never hurts to be cordial to the important people in your community.”

  “Did she come two nights ago?” Koeln asked.

  “Yes....”

  “And she brought a guest. A visitor, someone just arrived through InFlux. Who was it?”

  “I don’t make a habit of grilling my guests about their guests—”

  “Glim Toler. Wasn’t it?”

  Reese hesitated a few moments too long.

  “So,” Mace continued, “Toler was staying at the Temple and Patri Simity brought him along to your event. Sometime between then and this morning, the Temple has been searched and Patri Simity has gone missing. Since you’re already connected to Toler in other matters, it seems likely that you’d know about this. A moment ago you said you didn’t know anything about ‘them’—Simity and Toler? Toler was staying at the Temple?”

  Reese sighed. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

  “And you’re not telling me anything to make those assumptions go away,” Mace said.

  “What is your interest in Toler?” Koeln asked.

  “None. He’s a low-grade vacuum dealer and a troublemaker. I had intended to talk to him, explain how things are, especially in the Heavy That’s why Patri Simity brought him around. Too many Lunessa come

  through InFlux with only the guidebook explanation about Aea. Someone ought to tell them how it really works.”