Lilija glanced at her wrist, quirked a smile, and sent back, Why not? I’m not selling the crown jewels. It’s all in Heisenberg!
“And now, crewmates, my third exhibit. . . . The important bit: how we get to our destination.”
Someone came into the lab, very quietly. Kir heard the door seals hiss, and felt a touch on her shoulder. It was Karim.
“Did you know she was doing this?” whispered Kir.
“Yeah, why not? It’s high school stuff. Kir, I’m sorry. Something’s happened. You need to come with me.”
* * *
First Officer Ben was waiting in the passage. “Hi, Kim. It’s bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Kir.”
“Okay, Kir. Bill’s been hurt. I’m sorry. Let’s go.”
Ben led the way to LDM-side. Nobody spoke. Kir’s first thought, when Karim had touched her shoulder (Margrethe is dead!) must be wrong, but what had happened to Bill? She couldn’t guess: her mind was blank. The garden rooms were closed off by a hazard barrier; Ben canceled it so they could go in. The air was bright, moist, and faintly warm. Eke and Cerek—Kir knew them by their patches—were kneeling beside a body. Bill lay on his back, in the shadow of a row of vegetable plants with big leaves, faceup: like Patient A in Lilija’s tank. Half his face was masked in dark blood, and the eye socket on that side was a ragged, clotted hole.
Not going to come back to life. No more folding of sleek arms. Ask me anything, crewmate. No neeze to freeze.
“What did that—?” she whispered.
“A metal spike,” said Eke. “Probably from the craft shops. But it’s not here, and there’s no sign of a security breach over there.” They weren’t talking to Kir, they were recording observations. “He didn’t defend himself. It looks as if he was knocked out from behind, and the attacker stabbed his eye as he lay unconscious. The spike penetrated the brain—” Eke touched their breast to switch off the recording, and looked up.
“I’m so sorry, Kir.”
“Someone definitely didn’t want him to survive,” said Karim. “I’m guessing we can’t possibly resuscitate?”
“Never a chance,” said Eke, standing up. “That spike got stirred around like a spoon in porridge. But I don’t think ensuring brain death was the issue. I think Bill must have had a wire.”
“A wire—?” repeated Karim.
“VLDMT is big business,” said Cerek: the officer whose shoulder patch said Personnel. “We keep catching the pirates, and they keep getting smarter at beating the scans. Bill must have been a sleeper; I’ve never suspected him. But the back-of-the-eye device, that’s a classic!”
Cerek was a police spy, the VLDMT program’s inevitable MegaCorps West enforcer. Nobody had told Kir, nobody talked about it. She’d just realized, quietly: from what was said and what wasn’t said.
“An eyecam feed out of the Giewont Abyss?” protested Karim, astonished. “That’s impossible!”
“Believe me, it’s never impossible. Greed will find a way, and it’s not like the Abyss is solid rock. It would’ve been worth spending a fortune; this is a very special mission. He’ll have had the cutting edge. What I want to know is: Where’s that cam-transmitter now?”
“I don’t think it went anywhere,” said Eke. “Sorry. From the absence of traces I’d say it was molecular, and it didn’t survive.”
“Dan’s coming,” said First Officer Ben, who had stepped away from the body to talk to his boss.
So it was all a sham, thought Kir. All of it, probably, and I don’t mind. I’m not heartbroken. I’m just so sorry—
“Do I have to stay?” she asked. The LDM officers looked at her. They seemed far away, and so did Karim. Eke ran a paddle over Kir’s body, front and back, up and down her limbs: let it hover over her abdomen, around her head, and over her face and hands.
“No, Kir. That’s all. You can go, for now.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Kir collected her headset, water, and a pack of something called “Ship’s Biscuit” from the dispensers. She didn’t really know what she was doing as she crawled into darkness: she just had to get away from things. She followed the wall of the Frame until she was clear of it, and headed south, the direction not taken. Kept on walking. Kept on walking, one more thread of life and mind fingering the unknown, until she stumbled into a group of rocks. They were dark, and hard to spot because the floor of the chamber was darker here too (this wildlife uses camouflage!). She set her back against a tall one and slid down until her bum was on the ground, arms around her knees.
Altair?
Yes.
Bill’s dead. You knew there was a murderer onboard, didn’t you? You knew all along?
No. I had concerns; I didn’t know there would be murder.
But you know what’s going on. I know you’ve been trying to tell me. I meant to come out here before, but I got distracted.
Did you read the documents?
Yes, but they made no sense. You have to just TELL me!
I see, but that’s not in my power. I have blocks in my mind.
OH COME ON! screamed Kir. DON’T GIVE ME THAT! I stopped believing in those “blocks” the same time I stopped believing in the “qu” in quaai! You are not quasi anything! You’re as much a person as I am! Why won’t you just TELL ME WHO IT IS!
I think you already know.
Well think again, because I DON’T. WHY won’t you give me a name, a clue, anything!
Maybe I’d prefer not to be the next victim?
You must think I’m an idiot! They won’t kill YOU! Have you any idea what you’re WORTH?
They wouldn’t have to damage the machine much.
Kir’s cheeks grew hot. Okay, I get it. They’d zombie you. Sorry.
The nanosecond I do anything suspicious, I have no doubt. So it’s been difficult. Are you still plotting to kill me yourself? By the way?
No. I didn’t mean it, and you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.
Bill was dead, and Kir was not heartbroken. People died; it hurt; you got over it. But this death crossed a line; it was another dimension from losing the seniors. She couldn’t deny the obvious any longer. Something had gone wrong, horribly wrong, with this whole Needle Voyager thing. You can’t have people getting murdered.
How could she make him talk? She closed her eyes, turned her head, and saw the person beside her, huddled in the same pose as herself. He looked utterly desolate. She remembered that time outside Sergey’s berth, when she’d first realized how lonely the quaai must be—
What was it like when I opened a route into your workspace?
It was painful, but it changed nothing. I could still be alone, and imagining that you exist. I’ll never be sure.
Nobody’s sure, Altair; we humans just fake it. You and me, we’ll just have to believe in each other without proof. Like everyone else.
I see. Thanks, I suppose.
I’ve been wondering, do you mind being called he? Would you prefer she? Or it?
I’d rather not share a pronoun with GAM, thank you. I’d have liked she, because of you and Margrethe. But I love Sergey too. “He” is fine.
Kir noticed the present tense but didn’t correct him—and a shiver of horror went through her. Had Sergey been murdered too? She steeled herself and returned to the attack. Okay. . . . This is what I’ve got. Neh and Vati are dead. It could have been natural, like Sergey, or by their own choice. But someone just definitely murdered Bill, and the murder is mixed up in what you’ve been trying to tell me. Do you understand that?
No.
(Okay, smartass, thought Kir. You’re a clean-living AI, you don’t understand murder.)
Can you tell me anything?
She could feel his helplessness, like a struggle in her own mind. His striving against the built-in barriers—
I am not free, said Altair at last. I am a slave. But neither are you free. Have you thought of that?
Of course. Everyone has constraints. None of us want
s to point the finger. But you, you’re running the Needle experiment; couldn’t you redirect a bit of that power? For a few months, until we get back upside? So people can stop being murdered and everything be okay?
You opened my mind, Kir. I can’t open yours, and if I could, I don’t think it would help. Things have gone too far.
There’s nothing wrong with MY mind. Stop making excuses! Nobody’s programming ME!
Silence lengthened. Kir waited, but Altair didn’t come back. She ate half a Ship’s Biscuit, drank her water, and walked around her boulder. It was a fine specimen, with a rough, crusty hide: close to one meter seventy tall by her watch, and tapering to a rugged point. Its footprint was close to a meter and a half, at the widest. Next time I’ll stay out for longer, she told herself. I can get to know the whole group.
Or she could keep on walking, until she finally reached the wall of the vast chamber. It would be concave and nearly smooth, but there’d be crevices. She imagined herself starting to climb. Up and up and up, clinging like a fly in the dark, and hammering on the underside of the seal—
Impossible. Not going to happen. The vast gulf overhead crushed her, and she fled from it, plodding northward.
When she crawled back through the baffles a shadow stirred in the darkness: someone was lying in wait, lurking beside those mysterious cold-storage containers. Kir’s heart missed a beat, but it was Margrethe. The director stood up, shrugging her black jacket around her shoulders.
“Hello, Kir. You’ve been exploring again?”
“Yes. I suppose you knew all along about me using the hatch?”
“I’m afraid so! I know how you hate confinement, Kir. You were born under the open sky, and you’re down here because of me, so I’ve kept your secret. But I’m here to tell you it has to stop. Operational reasons: we’re putting a hard seal on that hatch.”
Because of Bill, thought Kir. But she’d known she was on borrowed time. She nodded and they walked together, the codirector slightly unsteady. “You’re so calm, Kir. So self-contained . . . I’m glad you’ve had somewhere to hide, today. I’m very, very sorry about Bill.”
Kir realized that Margrethe was a little drunk, which was extremely unusual. She felt awkward.
“It’s okay.”
“Eke tells me he ‘had a wire.’ Did you know? He was making a pirate version of the VLDMT special mission. He hadn’t yet transmitted anything, which is a relief to Dan’s mind! Cerek will be in charge of the investigation.”
“Does this mean we’re finally going to abort?”
“It depends what Cerek finds out, I suppose: it won’t be our decision. Do you want to talk, Kir? You could come to my berth.”
Except you’re drunk, thought Kir. I don’t blame you at all, but I’m not going to prolong this conversation. “Not right now, thanks. I’d rather be alone. Margrethe, there was something else I wanted to ask you. What’s the Chernobyl Effect?”
“Good grief, where did you pick that up?”
“Poking around in your offline library. I wanted to know if there were other places like the Abyss.”
“Your happy hunting ground. Chernobyl was nothing like. It was a disaster area, a Dead Zone that became a wildlife refuge. It didn’t last, but it’s a story of hope. Devastated ecologies can recover.”
“There’s a lot more life in the Dead Zones than people think,” said Kir.
Margrethe laughed. “I love your wildness, Kir. Never lose that free spirit! Let’s go to the canteen. We’re all eating together tonight.”
The LDMs knew what Dan expected of them in this crisis. They valiantly complied, and the Needlers did their best to help. What else could they do? The teams played games. They danced to silly music. They shared a movie, ate too many snacks, made too much noise, and generally stood the test. If you can watch Marshab collapse, unconcerned, you’re not allowed to let a murdered comrade get you down. We go on!
Kir was alone in her berth before she realized that if the hatch was sealed, she’d lost Altair. She knew for certain now that he wouldn’t dare talk to her indoors.
* * *
It was as if the Voyager had hit interstellar turbulence. Everything was turned upside down and flung all over the place. They all had to be body-searched, deep-scanned, and questioned by Cerek, including Dan and Margrethe, with Daouna the “bosun” sitting in as witness’s advocate. Then Cerek and Daouna had to be questioned: by Dan, with Margrethe as advocate. The whole Frame had to be fingertip searched. The illusion that there was no surveillance down here vanished, as the statutory safety logs were opened and examined, leading to some people being recalled for further questioning. Or forced to accept counseling sessions with Cerek—having expressed or displayed distress, in even the most private context. The fifth month was almost gone when they were finally called to the canteen. Cerek reported that the crime had been the result of a falling-out between bootleg pirates. A Second Rotation crewbie called Ruslan Hock had been arrested, and confined in a special cold-sleep room called the brig. Daouna would be temporarily promoted to the post of chief engineer. The bosun post would remain vacant, and crew complement would remain at eleven until the end of the current rotations. A full inquiry would be convened after the Giewont mission, and now everything could get back to normal. There was no reason to abort. The disruption was over.
Nobody felt like arguing with a MegaCorps enforcer’s decision. They were all too exhausted, anyway.
* * *
Kir hadn’t fared well in the investigation. She’d been questioned in depth, recalled for review, recalled again for “counseling,” and confined to her berth “for her own safety” as the murder victim’s “known intimate contact.” When she walked into the IS lab, for the first time since Bill’s death, she almost walked straight out again. Bill’s head floated in a display tank, complete with the ragged hole where one eye used to be; and there were two LDM officers with the Needlers. Kir didn’t want anything to do with the LDMs.
Karim immediately killed the display. “Hey, Li’l Bit, we didn’t expect you to make it. I’m so sorry—”
Kir didn’t know what to say. She literally didn’t know what she dared to say. They’d been told their privacy had been restored, but with a MegaCorps enforcer in charge that didn’t mean a thing.
“Why were you looking at that?”
“Hey, Kir, it’s okay,” said Lilija quickly. “I called the meeting because we’re safe in here. Gromit works for us. Sergey told me to keep him in the lab, in case we wanted to talk secrets.”
Hearing his name, the paybot looked up, winked at Kir, and beat his tail gently on the workbench.
“Sergey told you?” said Kir slowly. “But when—?”
“Right back at the start. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but after he died I fetched Gromit anyway, just to make us feel better. ”
“And now we know why we need a watchdog,” said Karim. “Although we don’t know exactly what’s going on. If you don’t want to be involved, leave now, Kir.”
“It’s too late,” said Kir. “I already stood here for thirty seconds, anyway. But I trust Sergey, living or dead, so I’ll stay.” She pulled out a stool and sat beside the paybot. The LDMs were Communication Officer Foxy and Medical Officer Eke. “But why are they here?”
“Sharing information,” said Lilija. “They’re okay, Kir. But first I need to tell you what most of us see as what’s behind all this. Why the Needle Voyager’s in trouble. And I’m sorry, I know how you feel about her, but we think it’s about a hoax. A crazy hoax.”
The others all had the same expression as Lilija: grim, regretful, relieved.
“Huh?” said Kir.
“Proof of Concept,” explained Lilija. “She needed it, we didn’t have it. Volume’s great data didn’t stand up, but Margrethe and Dan had already gone out on a limb. So they buried the problem, and went ahead with the Giewont experiment.”
“They must have tried every trick in the book,” added Liwang. “Saying nothing,
hoping they could bridge the gap: and then it was too late.”
“Too much loss of face,” said Xanthe. “Too much loss of . . . everything.”
“So that’s where we are,” Lilija resumed. “As soon as I’d accepted the hoax possibility, I realized our skeleton crew is rigged. Kir had to be here, as Altair’s host. Laksmi and Malik were bought off. The seniors, all end-of-lifers. For the rest of us, all those who could have had access to the Volume data didn’t have the expertise to question it. Liwang’s not much of an analyst—”
“Thanks,” said Liwang. “Never claimed to be.”
“And Firefly and Xanthe are juniors.”
Xanthe and Firefly nodded humbly, but Firefly didn’t look happy.
“Okay, but I still don’t get it,” she said. “Why would Neh and Vati come down here, knowing they were sick and would probably die, just to prop up a hoax? How could Lakki and Malik be bought off? The fakery was bound to get found out, and they’re not crazy!”
Lilija sighed. “Not crazy? Think again. What if someone said they could have a baby?”
“A baby permit? But they’re way over forty-five!”
Liwang shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Dan’s filthy rich, kid! He’s a One Percenter. We’ve tended to lose sight of that. Overage One Percenters get permits all the time, hadn’t you noticed?”
“Oh.”
“Let’s try to keep to the point,” said Lilija. “I hope and believe that Sergey died of natural causes, and Neh and Vati of their own choice. I can’t explain what happened to Bill, but I’m sure Margrethe had nothing to do with outright murder—”
“Yeah, that will have been Dan,” said Karim, nodding.
“But it doesn’t make sense—” began Kir.
The Needlers stared at her, even Lilija, and she saw that they were waiting for more. They must be desperate, to think Kir had the answers. She could only shake her head. “What you said, it doesn’t make sense, that’s all. I haven’t got a better explanation—”
“Post-lifespans don’t always make sense, Kir,” said Lilija gently. “That’s the way they are. The question is, what now? That’s what we’re here to discuss, and these guys”—she gestured to the two officers—“contacted me. They’re here to help.”
Proof of Concept Page 8
