"That's the thing. She died trying to get the evidence to prove her theories." Partridge frowned, an angry light in his eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Morgan said. "You were close to her?"
His lips twisted. "No. My mother wouldn't allow it. She moved away from here, into the city, never wanted to live here. I inherited the place after my grandmother died, and came to live here. I don't talk to my mother anymore."
The look on Partridge's face said it all. Ah, the joy of family. Morgan could relate to that. "I know how that can be. So you wish you'd known her?"
"Very much so." He waved an arm, encompassing the room. "I love all this stuff. I wish I could prove they were wrong about her, all those up-themselves, so-called experts at the university."
"What happened to your grandmother and where was she… collecting evidence?" Ravindra added a sneer to the last words.
Partridge glared at him. "I guess that's why you're here. Grandma thought those statues were down there, in the ocean." He waved long fingers behind him, at the window. "The climate has changed here since the earliest settlements. The sea has risen a long way. The cliffs this house stands on used to be much lower. There used to be many more islands in a shallower sea. My grandmother was convinced the statues came from somewhere which is now under the sea. The university said that was nonsense."
"Really?" Morgan said. She tutted. "Surely they checked?"
Partridge cleared his throat, looked away. "They did. They conducted an undersea survey which found some promising results but none of them were what Grandma was looking for. She persisted."
"She died?" Morgan prompted.
"Grandma didn't believe them, thought the authorities were hiding the evidence from her so they could steal her research. She had a submarine built, took it down to visually inspect. Some of the gear was fouled and they were forced to surface. A storm had blown up while they were down. Storms can happen very quickly in these waters. Anyway, she went out on the hull to clear whatever it was and she was swept overboard. The body was never found."
"That's sad," Morgan said. In more ways than one. Yet another dead end.
Partridge shrugged. "It is. Because I still think she was right. One of these days I'll take another a look myself."
Ravindra straightened. "You have this submarine?"
"Oh, yes. It's down there." Partridge pointed at the floor. His manner changed suddenly, as if he'd said too much. "There's a problem with it. An issue with the IS. It can't be fixed."
Ravindra stirred in his chair. "Why are you convinced the survey was wrong?"
Partridge scowled, his blue eyes bright with anger. "Grandma never explained. She said she was sure."
Now who was being difficult? Shut up, Ravindra. "Do you have the survey results?" Morgan asked.
The anger softened as the archaeologist turned his head to look at her. "On the system."
"Mind if I take a look? I love that stuff and you never know, I might see something."
"Sure. Show us the marine survey data, Isaac," Partridge said to the IS. "Show us the bit my grandmother was interested in."
Morgan loaded the data in a nanosecond. Sea beds and shadows, rocky canyons, shapes that might have been rocks, might have been walls, the outline of a road here, buildings there, the ghostly form of caves, even what looked like rooms. She concentrated on the section Partridge indicated. Her heart sank. Nothing but seascape. "They're right. There's nothing to see." It was so fucking frustrating. Every time they seemed to be getting somewhere, they hit a brick wall.
"Why did your grandmother think whatever she believed was here, was connected to Rosmenyo?" Ravindra asked.
"She was never so much interested in Rosmenyo past the view that the man got his ideas from someone else. That comes from the notion Rosmenyo played with genetic modification. I think that's clear enough if you read the texts from Iniciara and ignore the superstition."
Morgan nodded. "Agreed."
"Well, I think my distant ancestor was doing something like that, too."
"But wouldn't lots of people be playing with genetics? Surely it was common enough."
Partridge licked his lips. "It's frowned upon. At least in some respects."
"What respects?" Morgan asked.
"For animal husbandry yes, for people no."
"Is that why your grandmother was disgraced?" Ravindra pressed.
Frowning, Partridge shook his head. "Not… really. It was about what's down there under the water."
Morgan wasn't sure she believed him.
"Do you have any relics from this ancestor?" Ravindra asked.
Shaking his head, Partridge snapped, "No. nothing."
The man would never make a good liar, Morgan thought. Even if his pulse hadn't sped up.
Ravindra leaned forward. "I think you have. May we see it?"
The archaeologist's lip curled. "Not a chance."
Morgan glanced at Ravindra. Now who was doing it all wrong? "Will you let us help you? Looks like we have the same aim."
"Seems to me this is all a one way trip. I tell you what I know and you do what? No. Sorry." Partridge folded his arms.
"Everything is negotiable," Ravindra said.
Anger flashed in Partridge's eyes. "Not a man's integrity." His eyes narrowed, his expression becoming crafty. "I'll tell you what, you tell me where you saw these statues, let me verify that information, then I'll share everything I have."
"The planet is outside Coalition space." Ravindra's voice took on a formal note, the tone he used when speaking with politicians.
"That's just too bad, isn't it? Or maybe very convenient." Partridge rose to his feet. "Let me escort you out."
Chapter 13
"Thanks for seeing us, Mister Partridge. I'm really sorry we can't do business. Do contact us if you change your mind." Standing on the front porch, Morgan held out her hand and Partridge shook it in that way these humans had.
Ravindra let the irritation bubble. The man was too familiar with her, and she with him. And the way Partridge looked at her… Stop this foolishness. How the fellow looked at Morgan was immaterial. Why did the man refuse to work with them?
"It's a shame." Ravindra lifted a shoulder. "It seems we both want the same thing. Ah, well. I'm sure we'll be able to hire a submarine, or charter a boat to take us to the site."
Partridge would never make a diplomat. His eyes widened, then his lips curled into a patronizing grin. "You can try. But that site's a bit too close to the Temple. Nobody'll take you out there. Sorry."
"The Temple?" Ravindra knew Morgan would already be looking it up.
"Used to be a temple to Ushas, the Goddess the planet was named after," Morgan said. "I get the idea it has other uses?"
"When people disappear, that's where they end up." Partridge led them down the path to the skimmer. "Sorry to have wasted your time."
Ravindra watched the set of the man's shoulders. This man was in two minds. He'd bet Partridge wanted to trust them, but was afraid.
"Look, Mister Partridge, we need your help," Morgan said. "It seems to me we're after the same thing. Surely we can come to an arrangement?"
She was pleading, something Ravindra had never seen her do before. And he didn't like it.
"To put it another way, what can we offer you to help us?" Ravindra said. "You don't seem to need money."
The tip of Partridge's tongue appeared between his lips. The sea boomed on the cliffs below. At last he said, "Where do you come from?"
"Coromandel, a world outside the Coalition."
"Would you take me there? With my secretary? Or better still, to Torreno?" He rushed the words.
"You want to leave here?"
"I do. If you help me find proof of my grandmother's work, I can present that at the university in Torreno. And we can… escape the oppression here."
Morgan turned to Ravindra, a half-smile lurking around her lips.
"We could manage that," Ravindra said.
The archaeo
logist ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. "I'm taking a risk. You're probably wondering why I'd trust you. But sometimes, the universe moves in mysterious ways."
"So you cannot just leave on your own?" Ravindra said.
Partridge shook his head. "I'm afraid to try. I think they're keeping an eye on us."
Ravindra exchanged a glance with Morgan. "Did you sense anything in the house?" he asked in Manesai?
"No. Certainly not in the rooms we entered. But that doesn't mean they're not being followed when they go out."
"Mm. An eccentric recluse is safe enough here in his house on the cliff. All right. You agree it's worth the risk?"
"Oh, yes. I've been going over that survey data again. I think there's something down there."
In that case, there was nothing to discuss. "We'll take you to Torreno, Mister Partridge," Ravindra said. "Provided we have something to show for working with you."
The man cleared his throat. "As I said, going too close to the Temple is dangerous. But you can have my grandmother's hand-written notes."
"I'd like a look at your underwater site," Morgan said.
Partridge frowned. "I told you, it's dangerous."
Morgan's eyebrows arched. "There's a risk in going to this place?"
"There is, because of its location. I've been warned. I strayed too close to Temple waters once before and I was boarded. Forget about it. It isn't worth the pain."
"What if I fix your sub for you, Mister Partridge?" Morgan folded her arms. "I want a face-to-face look at that canyon in the survey. If there's something down there, maybe it will prove your theory once and for all."
A tick jumped in Partridge's cheek. "What makes you want to look? You said the survey's clear."
"Yes, but I've had second thoughts. Let me show you. Why don't we go back inside?"
Partridge hesitated. "If the house is bugged, that could be dangerous."
"I'm pretty sure it's not. I have programs in my implant that alert me to anything like that. A military thing, you know? Besides, we're just looking at old pictures, right?" Morgan smiled at Partridge, confident, assured. Ravindra had seen that smile convince hardened commanders.
It worked. Partridge turned on his heel and led them back into his circular study, where she directed the data to the screen, first the underwater pictures and then the analysis superimposed.
Staring at the image, Ravindra couldn't see anything untoward. By the look on Partridge's face, he couldn't, either.
"What are we looking at?" Ravindra asked.
"It's too neat," Morgan said. "You know when you're using a cloak on a starship? It's hidden to sensors because the beams aren't reflected. It feels a bit like that."
"But the rock face shows," Ravindra said. Partridge nodded.
"Yes. But this is an x-ray image that shows what's under the rock, detects cavities and so forth. See here?" She created a pointer, directed it at a point. "It shows you the shapes, different depths, different densities. Now look here." She moved the pointer.
Ravindra frowned. "What? It looks fine to me."
She shook her head. "It's too even."
"I'll take your word for it. What of it?"
Partridge's voice interrupted them. "Will someone tell me what's going on? I don't understand this technical jargon."
"What I said," Morgan replied. "I think maybe something's been hidden. But I can't tell unless I go down there and look."
Ravindra kept his face straight. Partridge tugged at his lower lip. "I think they put something on my sub, something they can track."
"I can fix that," Morgan said. "Is there anything else wrong with it?"
The archaeologist sighed. "It needs a thorough looking over. I… I'm not convinced my grandmother's death was an accident." He finished the words in a rush, sucked in a breath of air. "It seems the man who captained the sub had only been with Grandma for a short time. He was the one who told the story of what happened. After the accident, he moved on. And then I was stopped. By the secret police, the Trimasi." He raised his hands to shoulder height and let them drop. "I can't go to a registered maritime engineer because they'd find out."
This society was starting to sound very like a totalitarian state. Ravindra wanted to ask Morgan to find out more. But first they needed Partridge's cooperation. "Miss Sefton can see to your vessel," Ravindra said. "She's a highly qualified engineer."
"Maritime engineer?"
"No, spaceships," Morgan said. "But if you have the maintenance logs and manuals, I can use those. I expect they're on the sub's systems. It has an IS, of course?"
"Of course."
"Come on, Partridge." Morgan used her best persuasive voice. "We're on the same side. And believe us, we're not after credit. If we find anything, it's all yours."
Frowning, Partridge scratched at his chin. He hesitated a moment longer, then said, "I might regret this later but… all right. I'll show you the sub."
He led them to a transit and ushered them inside a lift. The car dropped, plunging down to the very base of the cliff.
"This was built years ago," Partridge explained as they rode down. "There's a cavern under the cliff where we keep the sub, and there's an access tunnel out to the ocean."
The lift slowed, then settled to a halt. Lights came on as soon as the door opened, filling the cave with a soft glow. The place reminded Ravindra of the pit on Krystor where Professor Unwin had conducted his excavation. The cavern's ceiling was invisible above the lights. A few buildings stood on a short wharf which lined both sides of a channel, within which floated the submarine. Black as a spaceship, it resembled a cigar.
"Here it is." Partridge's voice echoed. He took a control out of his pocket and pressed a button. With a sharp hiss and a click, a hatch appeared in the sub's smooth surface. The top rungs of a ladder were visible just below the lip.
Morgan eased over the edge of the wharf and stepped onto the black surface. The sub rocked slightly and she stood legs apart to get her balance.
"You could have waited for this." Partridge pushed out a ramp which attached to the hatch.
Morgan grinned. "No challenge." She disappeared into the vessel.
Ravindra pushed forward in front of Partridge, his boots grating on the ladder as he climbed down. There was more room than he'd expected. Aft would be the drives and engine room, forward accommodation. Here in the centre the two side walls appeared to be windows, currently blanked. They would be like on a spaceship, screens fed from external sensors. A bank of controls filled a central console. Morgan stood next to the data ports, her fingers resting on the back of a swivel chair.
"Let me show you the system," Partridge said, pushing past Ravindra.
Morgan listened to him explain. She'd no doubt already found out what she wanted to know. She beamed a brilliant smile at the man. "I think I can work with this, but it'll take a while." She turned to Ravindra. "Why don't you go back to the hotel? See what the others are up to?"
Leave? "I'm not leaving you here on your own," he snapped in Manesai.
Her lips tightened. "There's a bug on this thing. I have to find it and disarm it without tipping them off, then I have to check the engine and IS out and learn how they work. Take the skimmer. I'll get Partridge to fly me back and we can discuss what to do next at the hotel."
Ravindra stared at her, pushing down the roiling surge of jealousy.
She tossed her head. "Don't look so grumpy. You need to keep an eye on the others. If this is a police state, the last thing we need is for them to cross some invisible line. Besides, what are you going to do here? You'll just be in the way."
Ravindra eyed Partridge. He didn't like this, not at all.
Morgan tilted her head to one side." Don't you trust me?"
She was in her obstinate, dangerous mood. Did he trust her? With this handsome human? He thrust aside the niggle of doubt. "Of course—"
"Then let me do my job, and you go and do yours." She turned to Partridge, switching to Standard. "Ash
kar's going back to the hotel in our skimmer. When I've finished, you can take me back?"
"Of course," Partridge said, smiling at her.
Ravindra forced down the bubbling anger. She may be right, but he didn't have to like it. Or being dismissed like some junior subaltern.
The archaeologist turned to Ravindra. "I'll get Brent to come down and show you—"
"That won't be necessary. I'll meet him where the lift stops."
Partridge's eyebrows rose. "All right, if you wish." His face went blank while he contacted Eastly. "Brent will be waiting."
Morgan had already turned back to the console. Pushing down that sick, jealous feeling, Ravindra climbed back up the steps, up the ramp onto the wharf and strode the short distance to the lift.
Brent Eastly met him in the house. "It's pretty windy out there. There's a train service not far away that passes close to the hotel. I can take you there if you'd rather?"
As if he couldn't fly a skimmer himself? Idiot. "No."
Eastly escorted him politely to where the skimmer sat, a squat, insect shape on the landing platform.
The wind had picked up, now strong enough to blow his coti over his shoulder. Ravindra brushed the hair away and climbed into the pilot's seat. Not that he'd have to pilot. "Back to the hotel."
"Certainly," replied the IS.
The skimmer lifted off, not quite as smoothly as it would have had Morgan been in control. The ocean thrashed in its bed below the cliffs, battering the rocks. He stared out over the glistening waves at the hazy shapes on the horizon to his left.
"Which of those islands is the Temple?"
The IS banked the craft, lining up the islands. "The Temple of Ushas is the tall peak to the left. I've marked it on the navigation screen."
The map appeared in his line of sight, a circle flashing over an island in the distance. It was a shadow, little more. He was tempted to ask to take a look but it wouldn't be wise. Partridge had all but said it was the secret police headquarters.
"Should I set course for the hotel now?"
"Yes." The horizon tilted as the skimmer banked around again, travelling over fields and forests. To his right, a streamlined silver shape sped along a cleared track, moving almost as fast as the skimmer. The train service Eastly had mentioned.
Morgan's Return Page 11
