Starfire

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by Charles Sheffield


  Bruno Colombo was sitting to Maddy's right. She saw the director's lips tighten, but he said nothing. That was odd. His reputation said that normally he wouldn't sit quietly in a meeting, no matter who was present. What had Gordy Rolfe been up to?

  "You are right, Ms. Wheatstone," John Hyslop said. "Things have slowed down. One reason is the uncertainty and fear here on Sky City. We are more than eighty thousand people, and we grow in numbers every month. We have more technical training per head than anywhere since the first atomic bomb was developed at Los Alamos, more than a century ago. But in many ways we are like a small town. Risk of death in adult work is one thing. Risk to the children is quite another."

  Not his own kids, Maddy knew that. Her briefing documents said that Hyslop was unmarried, without children or current partners. But he was continuing, "It's likely that the teenage murders are affecting everyone. I know they've had an effect on me, because I was forced to move one of the bodies from her place of death to where her parents could view the remains. And my assistant, Lauren Stansfield, had a cousin who was one of the victims."

  Bruno Colombo was glaring. Maddy had seen his official statements to the Earth authorities. He insisted that Sky City security was close to capturing the killer, but also that the Sky City murders were having no more than a trifling effect on work schedules.

  Clearly, John Hyslop didn't believe that, though what he said stayed close to the official line. He was affected, since he personally had been forced to view the bodies. Lauren Stansfield was affected, because she had lost a relative. But workers without families could see the murders as little more than a nasty news item. And so far as capturing the killer was concerned, no one had a clue.

  John Hyslop seemed paler. His left eye was developing a tic and his voice was strained. When neither Maddy nor Bruno Colombo responded, he said, "We are looking for any help that we can get. If you yourself are with any kind of investigative group . . ."

  It was open fishing, but Maddy approved of that. She smiled and shook her head. "Far from it. As Director Colombo mentioned, I do not work for any particular government. I also know less than nothing about criminal investigation methods. I am vice president for development of the Argos Group. I assume that you know of us?"

  It was a rhetorical question. The Argos Group wasn't government, but Gordy Rolfe claimed, at least internally, that it was more powerful than any government; the Argos Group provided the technology that allowed governments to run. Maddy wondered about a new connection, one that she had never heard about. Could that be what was making Bruno Colombo so subdued?

  She saw an easy way to find out. At John Hyslop's nod, she added, "We had early advance warning of the simulation results, and we have been able to study them more than you have. The deaths here have had an effect on morale and efficiency, but they are not the main reason that the project has fallen behind.

  "The Argos Group has done its own simulations. The critical path for finishing the shield on time is the availability of construction materials in space. The Aten class of asteroids all have orbits that cross the orbit of Earth, and the Argos Group has during the past eight years contracted with Sky City for the transfer of two of them from their original paths to stable near-Earth orbits. We have also led the mining of those asteroids for metals and volatiles needed in shield construction. The transfer and material extraction went without difficulties, but deadlines were missed. We learned of problems only after the fact.

  "If we are to make up for schedule slippage, then the third Aten-class asteroid must be brought to Earth orbit and processed more quickly than proposed. Certainly, the deaths on Sky City must end and the murderer must be caught, but we regard that as a subsidiary problem, one that we are already taking steps to deal with. The central question for the Argos Group remains: Can we rely on Sky City to deliver the third asteroid as required, or will we be forced to examine other alternatives?"

  There it was, the first part of the story that she was here to tell. It contained its own veiled warning. For the past decade, Sky City had dominated all space activities connected with the shield. Colombo's position and influence depended upon keeping it that way. Competition to Sky City's monopoly would hit Bruno Colombo in his most vulnerable place.

  As Maddy prepared to deliver the second part of her message she felt doubts of her own. Would any single individual, John Hyslop or anyone else, be able to make a difference to the whole schedule? Gordy Rolfe insisted that Hyslop could and would, but Maddy was not so sure.

  She had been keeping one eye on Colombo for a possible outburst. When he remained totally calm, Maddy's suspicions grew. Colombo was so unruffled because he had known of the whole agenda for this meeting in advance. All her instincts said setup.

  "I feel sure it will not be necessary to look anywhere but Sky City," Bruno Colombo said quietly. "We will cooperate with you in every way and respond to your every request. If there is ever a shred of difficulty, you will have direct personal access to me. I can promise our maximum effort in returning the whole program to schedule. As for the project to bring a third asteroid to suitable Earth orbit, I propose that the program manager for that work be John Hyslop. There is no better person to lead such a project in the whole solar system."

  Setup, sure and certain. The whole thing smacked of Gordy Rolfe's fine Italian hand. Maddy was listening to Colombo, but she had been watching John Hyslop's face. Colombo's sudden proposal for Hyslop's reassignment had clearly come as a shock. The engineer was sitting speechless, eyebrows raised and mouth open like a startled frog.

  "I know nothing of Mr. Hyslop's background," Maddy said. See, Dr. Colombo, I can lie as well as you. "However, I have every confidence in your judgment of him. When would the transfer take place?"

  "I assume that time is of the essence." Bruno Colombo frowned. "Therefore, I see no reason for delay. Reassignment can happen immediately."

  "No!" Hyslop came back to life. "Director, that's totally impossible."

  "Why?"

  "Because things can't just be dropped when I'm right in the middle of them."

  John Hyslop's rush of words and incredulous look told Maddy a lot. Bruno Colombo might think he was the god of Sky City, but there was an awful lot going on here that he didn't know about.

  "I'm deep into a dozen projects," Hyslop continued, "here and out on the shield. We must have continuity—at the very least, I have to summarize the things that only I know about."

  "Hyslop, you have filed numerous reports attesting to the competence of your chief assistant. Are you denying the truth of those?"

  "You mean Lauren Stansfield? Of course not. She's exceptionally able and knowledgeable. She understands all the systems of Sky City as well as anyone. But she's mainly an inside worker, not an open-space specialist."

  "Where is she now?"

  "At the moment she happens to be out on the shield. But that's unusual. She doesn't have nearly as good a grasp of shield engineering as, say Will Davis."

  "So we will divide your old responsibilities. Lauren Stansfield will handle problems of Sky City engineering, and Will Davis will deal with outside activities relating to the shield. I assume that you are confident of Davis's abilities?"

  "Certainly. He's first-rate. But—well—it's not really that easy."

  Maddy could see how the argument was going. John Hyslop didn't have a chance against Bruno Colombo. It had little to do with seniority, and nothing to do with who was right. She would bet that John never won an argument with Colombo. The director had a more assertive personality.

  And Maddy? Maybe. It was just as well that there had been no argument. But Maddy was increasingly sure she deserved no credit for that. Everything had been greased before she ever set foot on Sky City.

  "I agree, you need to tie up what you've been doing." She interrupted Colombo, who was now demanding to know why the full status of each project had not been given in weekly progress reports. "We are hoping for fast action, too, but we don't want to jeopardize ong
oing work. We don't want to make anyone have to admit he acted too quickly, and without adequate thought." Yes, Director, that could mean you. "How long will you need, Mr. Hyslop, before you are ready to make the transfer?"

  "I can coordinate everything with Lauren Stansfield and Will Davis and be ready to go in a week."

  "A whole week!" Bruno Colombo spoke to John Hyslop, but he was looking at Maddy. "Really, that sounds ridiculously long."

  "It's acceptable." Maddy was sure of it, someone had been applying heat to Bruno Colombo. She turned to the director. "So we agree. One week it is, then the official transfer. But I need Mr. Hyslop to make a brief trip to Earth beforehand, for general introductions. That should be done as soon as possible." Maddy winced inside, knowing that she had just committed herself to another shuttle trip and no sleep. "We also need a planning session here to discuss overall schedules. Where can we hold such a meeting?"

  The director waved a hand around the office. "Right here. We can continue where we are."

  "Not unless you are ready to give up your office." Maddy was pushing deliberately, curious to see just how much ground Colombo was willing to give. "I need a private session, just me and John Hyslop. We have to get to know each other, and there are sensitive matters of Argos Group activities that cannot involve you."

  Bruno Colombo's face reddened, and for a moment Maddy thought that she had gone too far. Finally he nodded. She saw the set of his mouth, and decided that she had probably made a mistake. He would not fight now—apparently she still, for no reason that she understood, was in a controlling position. But Colombo's assistant, Goldy Jensen, must have learned her own grudge holding from a master. It was going to be tough on Maddy if she ever had to depend on the director of Sky City for charity.

  "You may use my office if you so wish." Colombo had himself under control. "Also, there are several rooms available on this level. Whichever you prefer."

  "We don't want to disturb you. We'll move."

  She gestured to John. He followed her out. As soon as they were through the outer office and beyond the hearing of Goldy Jensen, he said, "Ms. Wheatstone, I've heard of the Argos Group, but I don't know anybody in it. How come you picked me?"

  It was an excellent question. Unfortunately, Maddy didn't have a good idea of the answer. She stalled, saying, "I'd rather you called me Maddy. After all, we're going to be working together."

  "Fine. But why me?"

  "Let me answer your question with a question. Do you think you are the best engineer on Sky City?"

  He hesitated. "I don't know."

  "Well, do you know of a better one?"

  "No." He seemed highly uncomfortable, refusing to meet her eye. It could mean that he was lying, but Maddy didn't think so. More likely, he was the kind of person made thoroughly uncomfortable by compliments. She found that rather sweet.

  "What you say matches what we've heard," she said, "that you're the very best. That's why we want you."

  It didn't answer his question, but he didn't ask again. Instead he scowled at her in a puzzled way and said, "If you think I'm the best, it seems strange to switch me from what I'm doing to the Aten asteroid work."

  "You don't think you can handle that?"

  "No! I know I can. It's more like—well, this is going to sound like boasting, and I hate boasting. But the Aten asteroid transfer and mining aren't all that difficult. I'd be willing to trust the job to any of my senior assistants. What I'm doing here is far harder, and far more urgent."

  He was raising a question that Maddy was not equipped to handle. Was he right—was there more going on than she knew about? Gordy Rolfe might again be playing his own game.

  Fortunately, John Hyslop didn't press the point. He went on, "You know, Dr. Colombo isn't the way you think he is."

  It was an odd non sequitur. Maddy asked, "And what way do I think he is?"

  "You think he's all empty talk. But he used to be an engineer, and a good one."

  "He doesn't seem to care for that sort of thing now."

  "No. But sometimes, when you think he's not been listening and has no idea what you are talking about, he comes up with a key insight for an engineering problem or he puts his finger on a fatal design flaw. It's a terrible waste, doing what he does all day long."

  Maddy had the urge to tell him that it took a good man to defend a boss who would surely never defend him. She wanted to see if a compliment would again produce that boyish look of discomfort. However, before she could speak he put out a hand to steady himself against the wall of the corridor, grunted, and gave a prodigious yawn. Then he blinked at her and said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Wheatstone. We can't have our meeting now."

  "Call me Maddy." She frowned. "Are you all right?"

  "No." His words became breathless. "Not all right. I've been awake and at work for over forty hours. I either have to lie down or throw up. I'm approaching the end of a second Neirling boost, and I'm going to crash. Soon. Give me twelve hours. Then we can talk."

  Maddy took his arm in hers. "You should have told me sooner. Of course you must have sleep. If you're on a second boost, you absolutely need sleep." And not only you. The prospect of twelve hours of rest rose ahead of her like a prospect of paradise. "Come on, let's get you to where you can lie down in peace. We'll have plenty of time for our meeting when you wake up."

  The look in his weary gray eyes surprised her. It was gratitude. You didn't see much of that when you worked for the Argos Group.

  She led him away along the corridor. John Hyslop promised to be intriguing to work with—even though he insisted that they didn't really need him for the Aten asteroid work.

  And did they? What other reason could there be for his transfer? She could ask Gordy Rolfe, but he'd take that as a sign of weakness. Better to file the question away in Maddy's box of minor mysteries, and try to find the answer for herself.

  5

  From the private diary of Oliver Guest.

  A peat fire is like no other: silent, sullen, and slow-burning, red in its hidden heart. Not unlike, to one of morbid imagination, the man seated in front of it.

  Seth Parsigian fitted well into an ancient castle of western Ireland; better, perhaps, than I did. Burly, primitive, cross-legged by my broad stone hearth, he made a rather formidable leprechaun. His skimpy black singlet revealed long-healed scars on his chest and neck. His eyes, glittering in the light of fire and wall lamps, were like a snake's.

  "A dozen of 'em, and countin'," he said. "We can do this any way you like. I have a ton of stuff with me, pictures, descriptions, video reconstructions, locations and murder method, plus ages and background for each girl. What foxes me—an' not only me, half the security forces an' probably all the amateur sleuths in the world—is the pattern. There isn't one. I mean, so far as normal people are concerned, there ain't. Mebbe you, with your special talent, can make sense of it."

  Of course. Maybe you, Dr. Guest, with your perverse, sick, disgusting, psychotic mind, will realize at once who did it.

  "Spare me the doubtful compliments," I said. "I will certainly read, and I will look, and I will think. I will do all these things—at my leisure. For the moment, I prefer to have your impressions. You were surely engaged on this effort for some time before you decided to seek me out. Tell me what you know, what you deem can be ignored, and what you conjecture. When I feel a need for information, I will interrupt. Surely you have observed some pattern, however faint."

  "Yeah. The pattern is, never the same thing twice. It started on December twenty-fifth, 2052. Myra Skelton went to a Christmas party at a friend's place on level eighty-eight."

  "Level eighty-eight?"

  "Locations on Sky City are named from the central axis. The axis is level zero. The outer edge of the cylinder is level one hundred. Myra Skelton lived with her parents on the eighty-second level, so she didn't have far to go to her friend's. Down six levels, and a hundred-meter walk around. She left there at nine at night. But she never made it home. They found her body the ne
xt mornin', stuck in an empty storage room on level eighty-seven."

  "What was her age?" I sat back in my chair with my eyes closed. For the moment I was not attempting logical analysis. I sought only a sensation, a certain feeling, the stir of the small worms creeping up from the base of the brain.

  "She was fourteen an' a half. Actually, more like fourteen years and eight months. She died from a blow to the back of her head. No murder weapon, no suspect, no motive. I got full medical reports. Want to see 'em?"

  "Later. Continue."

  "No rape, and no sexual molestation. Of course, I know that don't prove a thing. In your own case, from all I've heard, you never even touched them, before or after—"

  I opened my eyes. "At your peril, Seth Parsigian. This truce is fragile enough, without unnecessary provocation."

  "Yeah. Sorry." He did not look it. "Anyway, she hadn't been touched. Big mystery, an' no clues, even though her family's well connected an' pulled strings to get high-powered investigators on it. They come up from Earth an' talked a lot, but they found out zilch. They said, we got us an unknown killer—brilliant—and January seventh, they left.

  "January tenth, Tanya Bishop played a game of three-ball on a court up near the axis, where it's close to zero gee. She pulled a muscle and had to drop out before the game was over. Instead of waiting for the others, she said she was goin' home to shower and rest her leg. Home was level sixty-six. She never made it. They found her in an airtight tank on level five. Thought at first it was an accidental death—gone in there, fallen asleep, asphyxiated. I know, that sounded like a bunch of crap to me, too. When they took a closer look at her body it turned out she was strangled. Fourteen years and one month old. This time she was naked. There was no intercourse, but there was mutilation after death. Sexual mutilation. Everybody said, we got us a crazy sex killer."

  I nodded. Once again I sat with eyes closed. Fourteen years and eight months, fourteen years and one month; the ages were right.

 

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