by mikel evins
“Now you’re claiming to be Commander Erdos?” he said.
“No,” said Zang. “I’m not Erdos. But I was.”
“Interesting,” said Schulmann. “But I don’t see how that’s relevant. Even if your relationship enabled you to influence the Captain-General’s attitude about the Host—and I doubt that very much—I don’t see how it can affect our leasehold. That would take a decision from the Consortium.”
“Depends,” said Jaemon.
“On what?”
“On whether the Host is using its garrisons on Consortium vessels to work against the interests of the Consortium.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Here’s what we know,” said Jaemon. “We—that is, the captain and crew of the Rayleigh Scientific vessel Kestrel—transported to Solomon an ancient artifact of historical value. When we arrived, we were assaulted by a team of military commandoes. There are only two garrisons aboard Solomon with commando units: Solomon’s complement and the Sacred Host. We collected a DNA sample from one of the attackers and identified him as one Jo Jetjirawat, a member of the Host who was trained as a commando. A few hours later, Jo Jetjirawat turned up dead, executed and dropped off the Axis. Lieutenant Commander Gebre Isaac of Solomon Security, who is, by the way, a chaplain of the Church of the Makers, suggested to us that our artifact might contain an archive of Kenjiro Isono. Now, what does all that sound like to you, Father Schulmann?”
Rodrigo Schulmann stared at Jaemon. After a moment his smile returned.
“It sounds like a fairy tale, Mister Rayleigh. A fairy tale. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
“Pretty much,” said Jaemon.
“Well, then, I think we’re done here.”
Schulmann separated his thick hands and laid them flat on his desk. His smile grew big and warm.
“I want to thank you for a most entertaining chat,” he said. “But I really must be getting back to my duties. I’ll have some men show you out.”
“I don’t think he’s taking us seriously,” said Jaemon, turning to Zang.
“Not yet,” said Zang. “But he will.”
Schulmann’s smile flickered for a moment, then returned.
“Good day to you all.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak more with you, Doctor Chrysotile.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You said plenty.”
22.
“What’s the verdict?” Jaemon said.
We stood on the steps outside the main entrance of the Host office. I looked over my shoulder at it. The building was dark and Gothic, strangely ominous for a church preaching a message of hope.
“I think they’re involved,” I said.
“You ‘think?’” said Zang.
I looked at her.
“I can’t read his mind,” I said.
“I thought that was the whole point of those bullshit questions you made us ask,” she said.
“I can read his reactions,” I said, “Unless he suppresses them very well. Father Schulmann is well trained.”
“That’s the point of the bullshit questions,” Jaemon said.
“Correct,” I said. “Forcing him to switch trains of thought makes it harder for him to suppress his reactions.”
“So did we get anything?” said Zang.
“I think Father Schulmann believes that the Host may be responsible for our robbery, but if they were, he was not informed about it. He’s unhappy about that.”
“You just said you can’t read his mind,” said Zang.
“He was alarmed when Jaemon asked about covert operations,” I said, “But he covered it immediately with a stock answer. When asked about our artifact and about Kenjiro Isono, he showed the same alarm, but didn’t cover it. He was worried and irritated.”
“So he expects to be asked about black ops,” said Jaemon, “And he has an answer prepared for it.”
“Correct,” I said.
“But he didn’t expect questions about archaeology and shipboard knights.”
“Also correct,” I said. “And they worried and irritated him.”
“So?” said Zang.
“He was surprised by your questions about the Host’s leasehold, but he wasn’t worried or irritated. He didn’t expect those questions, but they didn’t bother him.”
“But questions about our artifact did,” said Jaemon.
“Correct,” I said. “Which leads me to conclude that he thinks there is something to worry about.”
“This doesn’t prove anything,” said Zang.
“We don’t need it to,” said Jaemon. “We’re not here to collect evidence we can use in an arbitration. We’re here for clues.”
He pointed at me.
“Those are clues.”
Zang frowned, but she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “The Host PR officer is worried that they might be doing things like what happened to us.”
“And worried that the commanders aren’t telling him about it,” said Jaemon. “What does that tell you?”
“That if they are doing it, they don’t want their PR officer to know,” said Zang. “That doesn’t seem wildly unexpected.”
Zang’s frown turned pained.
“What?” said Jaemon.
“He mentioned Harken,” she said.
“Yeah, he did,” said Jaemon. “You think that’s important?”
Zang shrugged.
“Hell if I know. But it’s a kind of funny coincidence. If we’re following crazy theories, I guess we should follow them all the way.”
“Meaning what?” said Jaemon.
Zang looked at him.
“I guess we’d better go do the same little dance with Harken,” she said.
Jaemon nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea.”
Zang sighed.
“I’ll make an appointment,” she said.
“There’s something we should do first,” I said.
“What?” said Jaemon.
They looked at me. Zang’s eyes widened and she shook her head.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Already? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Oh,” said Jaemon. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
He sighed.
“We made a scan just before we came down here!” said Zang.
“Yeah,” said Jaemon. “And you remember what we came for?”
“To find clues, you said.” She scowled at him.
“To poke a hornet’s nest,” he said. "Sounds like we might have found one. Don’t forget these jokers already killed us once. I don’t want to have to come all the way back down here again. Besides, next time Schulmann will be ready for us. It’ll be harder to learn anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Zang. “Fine. Back to Kestrel. Back to the goddamn creche.”
23.
The status light on the creche turned green. The pounding started.
Jaemon turned and looked at me.
“Some things never change,” he said.
The creche popped its hatch and Zang’s hand gripped it and shoved it open. She came out dripping and glared around at us. She looked down at herself. Jaemon extended a robe.
“Aw, hell,” she said. “I’m not coming out of a scan, am I?”
“Nope,” said Jaemon.
“Where’d we get it this time?”
The Captain, floating next to the door of the creche room, said, “In Biru Park, next to the lake. You were on your way to meet with Harken. You took a few of them with you this time.”
“We were armed this time,” said Jaemon.
“We got them?” said Zang, tying her robe. “Great! Did any of them live?”
“Sorry,” said the Captain, shaking his head.
“Not even one?” Zang said. “How many did we shoot?”
“Three,” said the Captain.
“At least we can give them to Lev for his forensic magic,” she said.
“Solomon Security has
them,” I said. “But there’s not much point. They’re all pretty much burned to ash.”
“Burned?” said Zang. “Makers, what kind of ordinance were we carrying?”
“It wasn’t us,” said Jaemon. “It was them. Apparently their field gear torched them as soon as they were hit.”
Zang made a face.
“Damn,” she said. “What is it with these guys?”
“Containment,” said Jaemon. “Destroying evidence.”
“What the hell for?” said Zang. “We’re already onto them.”
“Come on, Zang,” said Jaemon. “You’re a cop. Think like one.”
She scowled at him, but then she nodded.
“Right,” she said. “They want to get rid of anything that would lead us to find out more, and anything we could use in an arbitration. Damn, that’s cold-blooded, though, burning up your guys as soon as they get hit.”
Jaemon shrugged.
“They’re grunts,” he said. “They’re used to it. And we can be sure they’re all backed up.”
“Yeah,” said Zang, “Still. It’s cold as hell.”
“It is that,” said the Captain.
Jaemon frowned.
“What?” said the Captain.
“Jet-man didn’t burn,” he said.
“Jet-man?” said the Captain.
“Jo Jetjirawat,” I said. “The robber we identified.”
“Oh, right,” said the Captain.
“He didn’t burn,” said Jaemon. “Why not?”
“If I had to guess,” I said, “It’s because his people wanted us to identify him.”
“Why?” said the Captain.
“Maybe because we’d already identified him from that mask,” said Jaemon. “It makes him a dead end. Also a warning.”
“Right,” said Zang. “Here’s what can happen if you get in our way. What about Harken?”
“What about her?” said Jaemon.
“She okay?”
Jaemon looked at her blankly, then caught her meaning.
“You figure they might have gone after her, too,” he said.
“If she’s really involved, sure,” said Zang. “Why wouldn’t they? Seems like they’re tying things off.”
“I thought you didn’t buy it?” said Jaemon.
“I don’t,” said Zang. “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t check on her.”
“We haven’t heard anything,” said the Captain. “It’s been almost nine hours since you were killed.”
“See?” said Zang, punching Jaemon in the shoulder. “I told you.”
Jaemon shrugged.
“I still say she was acting funny,” he said.
“She’s always like that,” said Zang.
“Yeah,” said Jaemon. “That’s what you said before.”
“I have an incoming message,” Kestrel said. “From Commander Erdos to any ship’s officer.”
Jaemon and the Captain looked at each other.
“We’ll take it,” the Captain said.
The Commander’s head appeared in the air between us, looking like Zang, but angrier.
“Good,” she said. “You’re all there.”
“How can we help, Commander?” said the Captain.
“We can talk about your uncalled-for soldier-boy heroics in the park later, Mister Rayleigh,” said the Commander, pointing at Jaemon. “For now, just be glad that nobody besides you and your attackers got killed. Now, did you mean what you said about helping out?”
“Sure,” said Jaemon.
“Well, get your asses down here, then,” said Erdos.
“Down where?” said Jaemon.
“Where are you?” said Zang.
“The History Office. But I want you to meet me over at the Public Archive Service.”
“The Archive Service?” said Zang. “What for?”
“What’s going on?” said Jaemon.
“I think Theodora Harken is missing,” said Erdos.
“What do you mean ‘you think?’” said Zang.
“Well, Harken says she’s missing.”
Zang and Jaemon frowned at each other.
“Come again?” said Jaemon.
“Just get over to the archive. We’ll sort it all out over there. Don’t shoot anybody else on the way.”
24.
The Public Archive Service was in a beautiful north-side neighborhood at the edge of one of the terraces. Its entrance looked out over the wall onto the next city segment like a mountain fortress at the edge of a cliff. The tallest buildings of the next lower segment thrust their spires up over the plaza where we stood looking around for Commander Erdos.
She saw us before we saw her. She whistled.
“Over here,” she said, waving.
Timur Serik was with her. They both wore the same dark blue uniforms we’d seen before, and big, conspicuous sidearms. There were also two big black birds hurrying along with them, fluttering now and again to keep up.
“Jaemon Rayleigh, Erszbet Zang, Lev Chrysotile,” said a breathless Erdos, pointing at each of us, “Meet Theodora Harken and Theodora Harken.”
“Charmed,” said both of the birds, not quite in unison.
“What the hell?” said Jaemon.
“I thought you said Harken was missing?” said Zang.
“I am,” said the birds, and then, “She is.”
They stopped and stared at each other, both of them flipping their heads from side to side.
“Something’s happened to our primary,” said one of them.
“You’re both betas?” said Zang.
Jaemon frowned.
“Two betas?” I said. “Are you from two different archives?”
“No,” said one of the birds.
“The same archive,” said the other. “Different times.”
“Can we sort this out later?” said Erdos. “I need to get inside.”
She gestured toward the main entrance of the building. The Public Archive Service was a soaring confection in the Prevantine style. There were buildings like it all over Bahroz City on Mars—shell-shaped things with gilded spires that rose in clusters.
“Wait, I’m confused,” said Zang.
“Join the club,” said Erdos. “Look, these two called me and said they were hiding in an apartment that Harken owns under a cover identity. The apartment has a creche in it. The creche switched on a few hours ago, and another Harken came out of it.”
“So the Harken we talked to before was killed?” said Jaemon.
“And she’ll be coming out of the creche in the Public Archive,” said Erdos, pointing at the building in front of us. “Or she already did.”
“Wait,” said Zang. “There are already two of her right here.”
“Our creche was extra,” said one of the birds.
“Just in case,” said the other.
“So she had more than one creche,” Zang said.
“Yes,” said the Harkens.
“Just like Yaug said,” Jaemon said.
“Actually,” I said, “You were the one who said that. Yaug said it was probably against somebody’s rules.”
“So I guess that’s why we didn’t know about Harken’s extra creche,” said Jaemon.
“Whose rules was she trying to break?” I said.
“I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion,” said Erdos, “But I’m in a hurry here. Can you take these two back to your ship? I want them kept safe and I’m still not sure who to trust.”
She glanced at Serik.
“Don’t mind me,” said Serik. “Nobody trusts operational security.”
“They tell you who killed their primary?” Jaemon said.
“Yeah,” said Erdos, scowling. “They claim Lieutenant Commander Isaac did it.”
25.
“Isaac?” said Zang, nearly shouting.
“Get going,” said Erdos, pointing vaguely at the Axis. She turned and jogged toward the Archive Service building.
“That’s my cue,” said Serik. He glanced
once at the Harkens, then trotted after Erdos.
Zang started after them. Jaemon grabbed her arm. She stopped with legs planted wide, combative. She glared at him.
“What?” she barked.
Jaemon jerked his head at the two black birds. They were pressed against each other, and against my ankles, peering out around my legs.
“We have an assignment,” Jaemon said. “We need those birds alive.”
Zang stared at the two Harkens, then after Erdos and Serik, disappearing into the building.
“But—” she said, sounding anguished.
“Trust her,” Jaemon said. “Just like we trust you. You don’t disappoint us. She won’t disappoint you.”
Something came into Zang’s face. Her expression crumpled. She took one more long look after her other self, then breathed once in and out.
“Fine,” she said. “Fine. Get them back to Kestrel.”
We hurried along the streets to the transit station, scanning all sides as we went. We didn’t see anyone following us, but there were people everywhere. Any of them might have been watching us.
At the station Jaemon dismissed the first two cars that stopped for us, watching around us as we waited. He interrupted a group of snooty Jovians with Tintagel accents, pleading an emergency, and grabbed their car from them. There was a moment of confusion while Jaemon placated them, then we were away in the transit tubes.
He and Zang watched behind us as we slid away from the station. A moment later Jaemon leaned back and stretched his legs. He folded his arms behind his head and fixed a sharp look on the two birds. They pressed themselves together on the floor of the car behind my legs.
“So let me get this straight,” said Jaemon. “Your registered archive was at the public service.”
The birds flipped their heads at him.
“Yes,” said one of them cautiously.
“But you had another creche. A secret one.”
“Right,” said the birds.
“So you got killed aboard Kestrel, and your public-service creche rebuilt you.”
“That’s right.”
“But your secret creche also rebuilt you.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“But Solomon Security didn’t know anything about it? Is that right? Why not?”
