It would be every bit of three months.
Now to plan where they changed identities. Probably twice, once in Phalia, and once in Annalia, when they had layovers between ships.
So Paul Gulliver and Ann Turley would go to Phalia, Saul Holliwell and Nan Hurley would go from Phalia to Annalia, and Howell Culligan and Jan Purny would travel from Annalia to Dalnimir.
He spent a day working up the backgrounds on his characters. The last two he left pretty thin for the moment, as he wasn’t sure yet what backgrounds would be most suitable for them.
But he had enough there to book tickets for the whole trip.
Turley and Gulliver each did their own research on the social anomalies. They figured it was the best way to get at all the pieces because they couldn’t talk each other into ignoring anything, even though it meant they might duplicate some of it. After Bouchard and the Obertos left, with three days to go before their own departure, they compared notes.
“The first thing I noticed,” Gulliver said, “is that crime is higher on Dalnimir than on other provincial capitals.”
“I didn’t notice any difference in crimes in the Imperial courts,” Turley said.
“Oh, there’s not. The difference is in the planetary courts. If there’s a local problem, that’s where it will show up.”
“Of course. I should have thought of that.”
“More pointedly, though, the crime is fundamentally different than in other provincial capitals,” Gulliver said.
“How so?”
“Crime is usually local – geographically, ethnically, and economically. The rich steal from the rich, and the poor steal from the poor.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Turley said.
“Nevertheless, it’s true. The poor steal each other’s lawn chairs, while the rich use Ponzi schemes and investment frauds to go after millions. But not on Dalnimir. Oh, sure, a lot of the crime there fits the pattern – even most of it – but the additional crime we see is often of the poor robbing the rich variety, much of it muggings and the like. A shocking number of muggings of white-collar professionals by street thugs. Always unsolved.”
“White-collar professionals?”
“Yes,” Gulliver said. “Like reporters, business owners, people with influence.”
“You think they’re being targeted?”
“Perhaps. OK, your turn.”
“I noticed there are a lot more political scandals on Dalnimir, and some of the bigger provincial planets, than on most other planets,” Turley said.
“What sort of scandals?”
“Oh, the usual. Sex scandals, allegations of sexual abuse or harassment, corruption scandals – all that sort of thing.”
“There has never been a paucity of powerful people abusing their position,” Gulliver said.
“Oh, I know that. But it’s all on one side of their political split. The DP was always run by elected politicians. Under Imperial rule, that isn’t so – at the sector and province level. But it’s still true at the planetary level. Now, if I take the number of political scandals involving members of, say, Planetary Governor Hugh Knowlton’s party, and double it, it’s less than the normal we see in other provinces. But if I take the number affecting his opposition’s members, and double it, it’s more. Much more.”
“Dirty tricks?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Turley said. “And a lot of them are of the he-said/she-said variety.”
“No corroboration?”
“No. But that hasn’t kept the local press from running with the stories. Endlessly, if they’re against Knowlton’s opposition.”
“That brings up another thing I saw,” Gulliver said. “There’s very little press critical of Knowlton or Pearson. Everything’s just wonderful with those guys.”
“Could that be the case, though? Maybe they’re just that good.”
“Comparing it to the press on other provincial and sector governments, and the planetary governments that host them, they’re a marked outlier. Even the governors of well-run planets get their fair share of abuse from the press. From political cartoonists, if nothing else.”
“But not Knowlton or Pearson?” Turley asked.
“No.”
“That may tie into another one. I found the death rate for incarcerated criminals is higher than on other planets in the Empire. And guess what else?”
“The difference in death rates is related to whether the prisoner is a white-collar criminal,” Gulliver said.
“Got it in one. And the arrest is usually for something minor or trumped up.”
“So you get arrested for some nonsense reason, they put you in prison in the general population, and you get shivved.”
“You got it,” Turley said. “And most of those are – surprise, surprise – unsolved. They always seem to happen where there’s no camera monitoring, or when the cameras are off-line, or where the camera has a bad angle on identifying who the murderer is. And usually within a day or two of being arrested. They haven’t even had the charges come up on arraignment yet.”
“This is resolving into a real nasty situation.”
“Oh, but there’s more. Those unsubstantiated allegations against Knowlton’s opponents? The accusers are all represented by high mucky-muck attorneys associated with Knowlton’s party. And they’re expensive. Much more expensive than the accusers could afford.”
“So who’s paying them?” Gulliver asked.
“Yes, and with whose money? With tax money, perhaps? Knowlton and Pearson are both running much higher than normal amounts of money through their petty cash accounts.”
“Which isn’t itemized, accounted, or audited.”
“Correct,” Turley said. “Is it time to start pulling bank and spending records?”
“Not yet. If we knew who the underlings were, we could look for deposits, expenditures beyond their means, that sort of thing. It’s harder from the top down, and more sensitive. We need to know more about where the money is going, and then work upstream.”
“Which is why they want us on site.”
“Correct,” Gulliver said.
“Well, I know what I’m going to do right now.”
“What’s that?”
“Practice with that forearm rig,” Turley said. “It looks like I might need it.”
“So I’ve been thinking about our identities for Dalnimir,” Gulliver said. “How about you’re an investigative reporter who is interested in the political scandals, and I’m a sociologist who specializes in crime interested in the crime and the jail murders?”
“We together or separate?”
“Husband and wife. We picked Dalnimir because it interests us both.”
“They’re going to go after you,” Turley said.
“Of course. That’s the point. If they go after me, we’ll surface some underlings and we can start tracing the money back.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Weren’t people shooting at you on Julian?” Gulliver asked.
“Yes, but somehow this seems different. More personal, or something.”
“I’m also less constrained in how I fight back. Those crimes are unsolved. But if I kill the attackers, then we learn who they are. Some of them, anyway.”
“Well, the identities sound fine,” Turley said. “We need to work on the strategy, I think. Too many places for things to go wrong.”
“I’ll think about it, but I think it’s our best shot. Give it some thought, and see if you come up with something better.”
The IPS Stardust Dreams was swinging through Alexa on its route through the Calella Province of the Monserrat Sector, finally ending up at the sector capital, its original debark point. Even such a minor route wouldn’t normally have a stop at a minor planet like Alexa, except it was on the direct route between two more major planets, Calaf and Tremp. That it was a jumping off point for the Western colonies also gave Alexa larger passenger traffic than its size would normally suggest.
Gulliver and Turley boarded the shuttle at the Central spaceport where they had said goodbye to Bouchard and the Obertos a week earlier. The shuttle trip was uneventful, and did not include any zero-gravity maneuvers of the sort that had given Turley problems on their arrival. Passenger ships maintained acceleration throughout their stops, and the ship and the shuttle maneuvered to meet each other while under way. These maneuvers were necessarily under computer control.
Turley and Gulliver had quite a bit of luggage along because they expected to be gone a year or so. The rest was in storage in Central. In particular, Turley left her formal business clothes behind, and planned to buy clothing more suitable for a journalist on their layover in Annalia. As first-class passengers, porters handled all their luggage, and they found it was already in their suite when they were shown to their quarters.
“Please do not hesitate to ring for assistance on any matter that comes up,” the assistant purser said.
“Very good,” Gulliver said. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure, sir.”
The porter bowed out, closing the door softly behind him.
Turley sat on the sofa and sighed.
“No zero gravity. Thank God.”
“No. Not on passenger liners,” Gulliver said.
“And this is some nice digs. First class? I’m surprised the powers that be will pay for that, frankly.”
“Any trip longer than a week. Standard policy. It’s no sense going somewhere to accomplish some minor miracle if you are done in by the trip to get there. It also gives us access to the first-class gym.”
“Well, that’s only important because of the first-class dining room. You need somewhere to burn off all those calories.”
“Actually, for our purposes, it’s important for another reason. How current are your hand-to-hand combat skills?”
“Not very. I didn’t brush them up before Julian. It’s been years, frankly.”
“And I’m rusty as well, so I think you and I have some work to do.”
The Stardust Dreams made several stops as it worked its way through Calella Province. Tremp, Sallent, and Terrassa were all on its itinerary on the way to Calella, before heading to the sector capital at Monserrat and finally to Phalia, also a sector capital, the former capital of the Kingdom of Phalia, and the most populous planet west of the original Sintaran Empire. It would be over two weeks before the Stardust Dreams reached Phalia.
Turley and Gulliver spent a lot of time in the gym. Yoga, of course, to increase flexibility. Both aerobic and resistance training, to build stamina and strength. They weren’t ready to start sparring yet – they were both too out of condition for that – and the first-class gym of the Stardust Dreams did not include a sparring mat in any case.
Gulliver also gave Turley more advanced training in disguises and make-up, concentrating on the minor changes that could make a big difference. And Turley practiced with the forearm rig until she could reliably use it in different orientations and while moving.
In the middle of the third week, Stardust Dreams reached Phalia.
In Transit
Real major-planet passenger shuttles met the Stardust Dreams in Phalia. This was the end of the line for the vessel’s scheduled run, and it would lay over here for two weeks for major servicing before starting its next tour. Crews went ashore on rotation, and all passengers went down to the planet.
The shuttle that took Gulliver and Turley down to Phalia, unlike the shuttle on Alexa, had separate accommodations for first-class passengers, including VR channels for observation through exterior cameras.
The spaceport on Phalia was much different than the one on Alexa as well. It was a major port, with the facilities one would expect on the former capital of a kingdom with eighteen thousand planets and forty-five trillion citizens. Dozens of pads, underground moving slidewalks, and a full-service terminal building. Gulliver and Turley took the high-speed subway train from the terminal building into the city. As first-class passengers, their substantial luggage was sent on to their hotel by the passenger line, Phalian Interstellar Lines.
They were booked into a suite in the Queen Anne III, a modern hotel in the heart of downtown Cologne, the capital city of Phalia. The suite was on the top floor, with a view down Royal Boulevard to the Palace of Queen Anne, about a mile distant.
“OK. After Julian and Alexa, this I could get used to,” Turley said.
“I didn’t think the Executive Building on Julian was so bad.”
“Oh, it wasn’t, but the hotel was abysmal.”
“No argument there,” Gulliver said.
“So now what? Do you think I should do some shopping here?”
“I wouldn’t think so. For our Annalian cover, you should shop on Annalia. Styles are probably a little different, and the sourcing should definitely be Annalian.”
“OK, so then what?” Turley asked.
“Well, the gym here has a sparring mat.”
Turley groaned.
“You’re going to throw me around like a bag of potatoes. I’d rather wrestle you in bed.”
“That, too, can be arranged. And we also need to change to our new identities here. Now that they have our check-in pictures logged, we should work on changes.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Hair would be the big one,” Gulliver said. “How about shorter redhead, with curls?”
“Curls?”
“Yes. The color and perm will last the next leg of the trip, then we can go shorter and straight, possibly black or brown, which will take less maintenance on Dalnimir. Oh, and a manicure, I think.”
“What about you?” Turley asked.
“Mustache and goatee for this leg. Then lose the goatee on Annalia. Black hair for now, then lighter shot through with grey on Dalnimir. It’s just to fool casual inspection of photos. It wouldn’t fool Imperial Police software, but that’s proprietary, and it would take a lot of time to search all the available records.”
“Cut and color and perm and manicure? That’s a lot of time at the salon.”
“I’m told some women like it,” Gulliver said.
“Huh.”
“And in the meantime, we have more research to do.”
Gulliver got a recommendation from the hotel for a good salon, and Turley spent the next morning there. She spent all her time in VR researching Dalnimir while they worked on her. Gulliver spent his time in research as well, and they compared notes over lunch.
“What I don’t get is what they’re after. Why would they be doing this?” Turley asked.
“Money?”
“They’re likely already rich.”
“Power?” Gulliver asked.
“They’re already in power. It’s stupid. There’s nothing to gain. Especially for the provincial governor. He’s an appointee. And he’s rolling the dice on an Imperial death warrant.”
“Yes, but he’s an appointee of the sector governor, and serves at the sector governor’s pleasure. What if he’s simply doing as he’s told?”
“Then what’s the sector governor’s goal?” Turley asked.
“There’s only one job above sector governor.”
“Oh, now there’s an evil thought. Do you think he can somehow make himself Emperor?”
“No, but he might think he can do something like that, or separate from the Empire somehow,” Gulliver said.
“I’m not sure how that would ever work. It would be crazy to even attempt it.”
“Well, somebody’s up to something. That’s our job. Figure it out.”
Gulliver looked at her appraisingly.
“I like the hair, by the way. That looks really good on you.”
“You think?’
“Yeah
, I do. Let’s leave the lights on tonight.”
“Deal.”
“In the meantime, it’s time for the mat.”
Turley groaned.
“I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
They went clothes shopping the next day in downtown Cologne. What would a rich Phalian couple wear as vacation togs aboard ship? The six-week passage to Annalia was all they had to worry about, so they bought ten changes of clothes each, specifically for the transit.
Everything Turley bought to wear on ship had long sleeves.
Gulliver had his hair dyed too, from sandy light brown to a near-black brown, and let his goatee and mustache grow in. He only had a few days, but had stopped shaving a couple of days before the Stardust Dreams made Phalia. When they hit the spaceport for the trip up to the IPS Imperial Oath, they weren’t yet far enough along, and he supplemented them from his kit for the boarding pictures for the passenger manifest.
The Imperial Oath was a new, main-route passenger liner, the most luxurious way to travel between the stars. Gulliver and Turley were booked into a first-class suite as Saul Holliwell and Nan Hurley, a wealthy couple on a twenty-fifth anniversary trip to see the galaxy. They had made their initial money, according to their backgrounds, in real estate on their home planet of Moria, betting on the Empire’s expansion of the former Phalian fleet base there, and then leveraged that stake in smart investments in projects throughout Phalia. Or so the cover story went.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Hurley said, walking through the suite. “A big step up even from the Stardust Dreams.”
“It’s a good thing,” Holliwell said. “It’s six weeks to Annalia.”
“Six weeks? In hyperspace? That’s four thousand light-years, give or take.”
“Yes. All the way across the former Sintaran Empire, and with a stop in Estvia, so the route’s got a kink in it. Earth is another three weeks farther, then the leg to Dalnimir is another several days. We’re basically traversing most of human space. The long way.”
EMPIRE: Investigation Page 3
