Infinity Beach (33 page)

The media portrayed her in a similar light: a helpless passenger on a scientific research mission who’d needed rescuing when, shortly after emerging from hyperspace, the engines had run wild.

She received requests for interviews, guest spots on several panel shows, and lucrative offers for exclusive accounts of events on the
Hammersmith
. All of which she declined.

Ben Tripley had left a message for her at home. She ran it and was surprised when he looked at her sadly and only wished her well. Her heart sank. She had expected him to take her to task for destroying his father’s reputation, to point out he’d warned her something very much like this would happen. But he avoided the recriminations and only said he understood this was hard on everybody. And he expressed his regrets for
Emily
. “I don’t know what happened,” he said, “I can’t
imagine
what happened. But I’m sorry. I wish it could have been otherwise.”

How could she respond? You were right all the time? I don’t know what happened either, and maybe your father is completely innocent, but the damage is done. Maybe if your father and Kane had spoken up when they came home about whatever occurred out there, everything would have been okay.
It’s not my fault.

After a long time she recorded a message, thanking him, telling him she was confident that when the investigation was complete, his father would be vindicated. She watched it through, decided it was a disaster, and deleted it.

She delayed calling Sheyel because once again she didn’t know what to say. She had no appetite for lying to him, but her agreement with Canon Woodbridge prevented disclosure. Still, she needed to talk to someone, and Sheyel seemed to be the only person left.

She punched in his code. Moments later his dragon chair appeared, and then he walked into the image and eased him
self into it. “Kim,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He wore a dark brown robe.

They exchanged pleasantries, although she could see he was anxious to hear about the flight of the
Hammersmith
. He looked more pale and drawn than when she’d seen him last. He was losing ground.

“I can’t tell you much,” she said. “I just wanted you to know I’m okay.”

“I understand.” His silver hair and beard had become straggly. She suspected he hadn’t adjusted well to the news about Yoshi. “You lost a friend,” he said.

“Solly Hobbs. Yes.”

“I read what he did. Such friends are rare.” He reached beside him and picked up a cup. Steam was rising from it. “What will you do now?”

Good question.

“I think I owe Ben Tripley an apology,” she said.

“When are you going to do that?”

“Maybe tomorrow if I can get an appointment.”

“You’re going up there personally?”

“Yeah. I think I should. Anyway I want to get a closer look at the
Valiant
.”

“The
Valiant
?”

She hadn’t meant to say that. But what the hell, he already knew. “The ship in the mural,” she prompted. “You remember the model?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “How could I forget?” There was, she thought, something very strange in his eyes, but she let it go. Probably the light.

She got through to Tripley’s secretary, who said she could make room for her next afternoon toward the end of the day. Kim consented, and put in a call to Tora Kane.

Tora came right on. Strictly audio. “Yes, Kimberly. What did you want?”

The key to the
Hunter
logs, Kim thought, had to lie with the captain’s daughter. There
was
no one else.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said. “I know this has been a difficult time.”

“I really needed somebody to explain that to me.” She paused, and Kim could hear the ocean in the background. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes. I wanted you to know that I don’t believe your father’s in any way responsible for the deaths.”

“That comes a little late.” Her fury was barely restrained. “You’ve ruined his name. You know that, don’t you? You’ve destroyed him.” With no warning her voice broke. She swallowed, waited, took a deep breath. “Everything he lived for, everything he
did
, it’s all gone now. And what they’re saying about him is a lie.”

“Maybe we can get to the truth.”

“Sure we can. You want truth? Stop by the museum and take a look.” The voice was pure venom. “Anything else?”

Yes! Where are the
Hunter
logs?
“Do you have anything, access to
anything
, that might show us what really happened on the mission?”

She paused. Kim wished she could see the woman’s face. “No,” she said at last. But the hesitation put the lie to it.

“Tora,” said Kim, “I can’t do this without your help.”

“Do me a favor, Doctor,” she said. “Don’t do
anything
, okay? I just don’t need any more of your help.” She broke the connection.

Kim walked over to the window and looked out at the sea.

She knows.

“Shep?”

“Yes, Kim.”

“I want to talk to Solly. How long will it take to—?”

“Acquire the data and assemble the psyche? Not long. And you’ll need to fill me in on the details of the mission. But I do not advise the procedure.”

“Do it anyway.”

“Kim, you’ve often advised against—”

“How long, Shep?”

“I won’t know until I see what’s available. If there is online access, you can speak with him tonight.”

An hour later she went up the front steps into the Mighty Third Memorial Museum.

It required no shrewdness to guess what she’d find: Another hero from the battle of Armagon had replaced Markis Kane. The attack on the
Hammurabi
was no longer on display. The glass case which had sheltered artifacts from the
376
was empty. Signs indicated that a new exhibition, describing the exploits of fleet physicians, was being prepared.

Even the pictures of Kane helping the museum staff assemble the display were gone.

She went looking for Mikel and found him conducting VIPs through a simulator designed to re-create an attack run against a capital ship in a laser boat. He saw her and signaled her to wait in his office. But she returned to the empty case. She was still standing there fifteen minutes later when he joined her. “I’m glad you’re well,” he said. “It must have been a terrible experience.”

“It wasn’t good, Mikel.” She watched him sit down, not behind his desk, but on a divan.

“Can we get you something?” he asked. “Coffee, perhaps?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “Mikel, what happened to the Kane display?”

“We removed it.”

“I see that. May I ask why?”

His eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You of all people. The man’s a killer. What would you expect me to do?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Either he’s a killer or he protected Tripley after
he
did it. The details don’t much matter.” He looked at her accusingly. “I’m surprised that you would object. I mean, that was your
sister
they threw out the air lock. I’d have thought you’d be pleased we took down the display.”

“We don’t know yet what really happened out there.”

“Kim.” His voice acquired its bureaucratic tone. “I’m
sorry. I don’t quite understand your attitude in this. Kane’s guilty of
something
, possibly murder, aiding and abetting at the very least, and everybody knows it.”

She pushed her hands into her pockets and looked through the office window at the exhibit, at the images of warships, the pictures of the captains. Off to her left a theater was running a recreation of Armagon.

“Children come in here,” Mikel continued. “How would it look to have a tribute to a
killer
?”

“Mikel,” she said, “when the truth comes out, I think you’re going to be embarrassed.”

He looked bored. “It’s hard to see how that could be. How many people were on the ship? But, okay, if I’m wrong, and it turns out that somehow or other he’s innocent, we’ll just put everything back up and no harm done.”

“No harm done.”

“Kim, do you know something I don’t?”

“No,” she said.

He took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t want this. It was terrible news, learning about Emily. I really didn’t know much about Kile Tripley. But Kane—We don’t have many heroes. We couldn’t afford to lose one. Not this one, especially.”

“Then don’t give up on him.”

“Hello, Solly.”

He wore a green shirt, open at the neck; dark blue slacks; and the peaked cap that he usually affected when they were out sailing. Shep had given him his captain’s chair from the yacht.
“Hi, Kim. It’s good to see you.”

Tears started immediately to run down her cheeks. She knew, had known all along, that this wasn’t a good idea. Still, psychoanalysts maintained this was the best kind of therapy after an unexpected loss. If one didn’t go too far. “I hate what you did,” she said.

“There was no point in our both getting killed.”
He smiled, and Shep had it exactly right.
“How are you making out?”

“I’ve been better.” She gazed at him, wishing she could
will
him back. Seize the image, hold him, never let go. It seemed somehow as if it should be easy. As if she could just reach across the room and snatch him into the world.

“How are they responding to the news you brought back? When’s the parade?”

“We’re keeping it quiet. I’ve talked to Woodbridge. He’s concerned about the possibility of other people going out there.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“If I had my way, I’d try to find out where the sons of bitches are from, and I’d send the fleet after them.”

“That doesn’t sound much like the peace-loving Kim Brandywine I’ve always known.”

“I don’t feel very peace-loving. They killed Emily. Killed
you
.” He was nodding, agreeing. “Solly, they’ve taken everything I ever cared about.”

“Not everything. That’s an overreaction—”

“How can you say that—?”

“Because you have a long future waiting for you. I’m sorry I won’t be around to share it. But we took our chances and it didn’t work out the way it was supposed to.”
He rearranged his cap at a rakish angle.
“What did Woodbridge have to say?”

“He agreed they were dangerous and that we needed to avoid contact.”

“Yeah. They’re dangerous. But listen. Kim—”

“Yes.”

“Woodbridge makes me uncomfortable. He’s a little too righteous.”

“He’s okay.”

“You didn’t tell him about the Archives, did you?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t.”
He gazed at her for a long time.
“What’s next?”

“I want to try to set things right with Ben Tripley.”

“You going out there?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“You disapprove?”

“He’s a jerk. You don’t owe him anything.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Okay. But be careful around these people. Don’t trust any of them.”

“Solly, Ben’s all right. He’s just wound a little tight. Anyhow, I feel guilty. Everybody thinks Kane and his father murdered Emily.”

“Maybe they did. Who else was on that ship?”

“I just don’t believe it.”

“You know what you have to do, right?”

“Sure,” she said. “Find the
Hunter
logs.”

The
Valiant
stood on its shelf, polished and brilliant. Its shining presence, and Tripley’s ignorance of its significance, amused her. A mean-spirited reaction, she thought, but nonetheless there it was.

“I wasn’t sure,” she told him, “that you’d consent to see me.” They were alone in his office.

He kept his emotions masked and his tone detached. “Why would I not, Kim?” He remained seated behind his desk, allowing her to stand.

“I didn’t intend any of this to happen,” she said.

“I know that.” He pushed back in his chair. “But we all know about good intentions. You destroyed my father’s reputation.” His voice remained flat. “He did not
kill
those people. He would never have harmed
anyone
.”

“I believe that. I think something unexpected happened during the flight of the
Hunter
. Something that caused the tragedy.” She lowered herself into a chair. She’d rehearsed everything she’d planned to say, but it all disintegrated in the heat of his presence. “This is
not
my fault,” she said.

“I know. More or less, it isn’t. But there’s no help for it now. I know you didn’t act out of vindictiveness. I’d have preferred you listened to me at the start, when I tried to warn you what would happen. But—” He shrugged. “It’s a bit late now.”

“Ben, there was no way I could not pursue this. It was a question of finding the truth.”

“And did you
find
the truth, Kim?”

Her eyes circled back to the
Valiant
. “Part of it.”

“Part of it.” His intercom sounded. He broke off, listened, told the machine he’d take care of the matter later, and looked back at her. “What truth have you discovered?”

What truth indeed?
That the
Valiant
is a replica of the thing the Tripley mission encountered on the far side of St. Johns? That the
Hunter
was invaded by something unearthly?—How else explain what happened?—She was gazing at the
Valiant
as if it were a sacred object. “Tell me again where this came from,” she said.

He looked at it, puzzled. “What has that to do with anything?”

“Humor me, Ben.”

He shrugged. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

She got up and went over to it, looked at it, and ran her fingers across the shell. “May I?”

“Of course.”

She picked it up and gazed casually at it. “I’d like to have one of these made up for my nephew.”

He glanced at the spacecraft. “I can get you a sketch if you like.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“It
is
a lovely piece.”

“I think I mentioned before it belonged originally to my father.”

She nodded. “Your grandmother passed it along to you.”

Muscles worked in his jaw. “That’s correct. I assume
she
told you that.”

“I’m sorry about that, too,” she said.

“It’s all right. You’ve caught me in a generous mood.” He softened. “Why the interest? Why do you care about it?”

“Bear with me a moment and I’ll tell you.” She held it under a lamp, letting its polished gleam sink into her fingertips. “When you were a boy, did it bother you that it had no
propulsion tubes? No main engines? No way to get from one place to another?”

“Kim,” he said, perplexed, “what are we talking about here?”

She laid it before him, set it down on his desk, and then held out a picture of Kane’s mural. He took it from her, glanced at it, then gazed intently at the turtle-shell ship in Emily’s hand. He looked at the
Valiant
, frowned, and turned on a desk lamp. “Where did you get
this
?” he asked.

“It’s on a wall in Markis’s villa.”

His attention moved back and forth between the picture and the replica. “It’s the same, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

“What the hell is it doing in one of Kane’s sketches?” Genuinely surprised, he put the picture down, placed both palms under the model’s superstructure, lifted it, and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. She watched him examine it, studying its antennas and sensor dishes and hatches. Here along the lower hull was a long door that might have led to a cargo hold or a launch bay for a lander.
There
was the familiar ring antenna used for hypercomm transmissions.
Here
was a pod that, to a boy, might have concealed a missile cluster.

Then his face changed, grew dark. He hefted the vehicle and his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He was staring at the model, weighing it with his hands. “It feels lighter than it used to.” He set it down and scratched the back of his neck. He ran his fingertips along the aft section. “That’s strange,” he said, puzzled.

She watched his eyes narrow.

“The rear hull should have a crease in it. But it’s not there.”

“I don’t follow.”

“There was a dent in the hull. Nothing you’d see unless you were looking closely.” He stared at the model. “And the
gun
’s different.”

Kim noticed for the first time that a short metal stud jutted out of the
Valiant’
s nose. “Different how?”

He touched it with his index finger. “Rounded muzzle,” he said.

“And?”

“It should have a rough feel. Whatever was on there originally was broken off.”

“You’re saying what? That the model’s been repaired? Or—?”

“—This isn’t mine. It’s a replica.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He set it down on the desk and stared at it. “I’ll be damned if I can figure
this
out.” He picked up the picture of Kane’s mural. Then he punched a key on the intercom. “Mary, would you come in a moment, please?”

Mary put her head in the door. She was the dark-skinned female from the outer office. “Yes, Mr. Tripley?”

He directed her attention to the
Valiant
. “This is a duplicate,” he said. “Do you know what happened to the original? Did somebody break it and get another one?”

“No, sir,” she said. “Not that I know of.”

“I’ll be damned if I understand that,” he said when she was gone. His gaze turned toward Kim. “Do
you
know anything about this?”

“No.” She was running her own fingers over the model, trying to find the dent. “Had it
always
been damaged?” she asked.

“As long as I can remember.”

“Odd,” she said. She glanced at the time and stood. “Well, I don’t want to take up your day, Ben. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused, and that I’m sure when the whole story comes out your father’s reputation will be intact.”

He was watching her, holding her with his eyes. “Tell me what you know about the
Valiant
.”

She shook her head. “I just did. I saw it in the mural. I thought you might know how that happened.”

“I’ve no idea,” he said, subsiding.

“I appreciate your time, Ben.” She started for the door.

“It’s okay.” He got up this time. “Thanks for coming by. You’ll let me know if you find out what’s going on? With my starship?”

“Of course,” she said.

She could feel him watching her while she walked to the lift.

Kim rode up to the main concourse, trying to sort it out. Why would anyone steal the
replica
? She got slowly off and joined the crowd moving purposefully along the promenade, where observation areas provided a magnificent view of the ocean world.

Why?

She walked slowly through the mall considering the possibilities, wandering among the shops. The shops were mostly souvenir and clothing stores. There was a Translux, which sold travel packages, on-and off-world. And a cosmetologist. And a Loki’s, which specialized in games and puzzles. They’d put a poster in the window, an artist’s drawing of the type that twists perspective. In this one a staircase seemed to rise from landing to landing around the inside of a hall, before reconnecting eventually, without a visible descent, with the
bottom
of the stairway. One would climb these stairs forever without getting anywhere. Yet it was hard to see where the perspective changed, how the stairway got back to the bottom.

And she realized why the
Valiant
had been taken. And by whom.

Ten minutes later she was back outside Interstellar’s main offices. She opened the door, hoping to see only Mary, but prepared with a story in the event she ran into Ben again.

The assistant was alone at her desk. She looked up as Kim went in.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Brandywine. Did you forget something?”

“A pen,” she said, making a show of examining the couch she’d sat in when she’d first arrived. “Oh yes, here it is.” She
produced one out of her sleeve and held it up where it could be seen.

“Well,” Mary said, “that was easy enough.”

“Yes.” Kim was walking slowly toward the door, apparently fumbling to return the pen to its normal place in a breast pocket. She paused in front of the desk. “Mary, I wonder if you could tell me something?”

“Yes, if I can.”

“The business with Mr. Tripley’s decorative starship. Is there a security problem here?”

“Oh, no. Not that I’m aware of. That’s the first time I’ve heard of anything being taken. I’m sure it’ll show up. Somebody probably moved it during cleaning or something.”

“The cleaning crew comes in at—?”

“—Night.”

Finally, everything was beginning to make sense. It was all a matter of perception, and she’d been as blind as Tripley. Who would have thought?

She rode the lift down in high spirits, and caught the train to Blanchet Preserve. From there she took a cab to Tempest, giving it Sheyel’s address. On the way, she rehearsed what she would say, a mixture of admonition and congratulations. She was in a blissful mood and ready to celebrate, half expecting to see him stride triumphantly out of the house during her approach. He’d know once he saw her coming that she’d figured it out, and he’d be anxious to show her the trophy.

There was, of course, an ethical problem in all this, but she put it aside as the taxi glided through the warm afternoon sunlight. Time enough to think about that later. Anyway it wouldn’t be a question of
stealing
anything. Sheyel, like herself, just wanted to solve a long-standing puzzle. And make a point.

And by God were they ever going to make a point!

The treetops opened up and she was circling his house. Inside, the AI would be informing him of the approaching
visitor, of the descending cab, but the doors stayed shut.

She settled to earth, paid up, and got out.

The taxi lifted off.

She strode up to the front entrance. The house stared silently back at her. “Sheyel,” she said. “Congratulations.”

The afternoon was pleasant and still. Insects hummed and a blue jay watched her curiously from the lip of a fountain.

“Sheyel?”

A gentle breeze sighed in the treetops.

She looked at the empty windows. The jay took off and landed on the roof.

Kim tried her commlink. A female voice came on the line:
“I’m sorry. Dr. Tolliver is not available at the moment. If you wish to leave him a message, please do so.”

“This is Kim Brandywine,” she told the AI. “I’m doing some work for Dr. Tolliver. He’ll want to know about it forthwith. Can you please put me in touch with him?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Brandywine. But he does not like to be disturbed. When he calls in, I’ll be certain to tell him you’ve been trying to contact him.”

And it shut off.

Where was he? She should have called before coming all the way out here, but she’d assumed he’d be home, and she’d wanted to take him unawares. And to help him celebrate his coup properly. In person.

She walked around the house, but saw no one, inside or out.

Where would he have gone?

Only one place she could think of.

Sheyel had always maintained that few actions are driven by reason. People act out of emotion, perception, prejudice. They will believe what they’ve always believed, filtering out all evidence to the contrary. Until they go too far and run onto the rocks of reality.

If she was guessing right about Sheyel, he was about to run onto a few rocks himself.

She called Shep on the commlink.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, Kim.”

“I want you to design an entity.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Consider it an intellectual exercise.” She described everything she knew about the intruder. And the creature in the lake. Apparent incorporeity. Green eyes. Green tinge. Electrical fields. Free hydrogen molecules. Methane. Oxygen.

“I can give you a model,”
Shep said after a few minutes,
“but I do not think it would be a life-form that would evolve naturally.”

Kim had summoned another cab, and she was watching it approach. “Doesn’t matter. What have you got?”

“Uneven charge distribution in individual cells.”

“Explain.”

“A living system need not be contained within a coherent sheath. A skin cover or shell. It is possible that regions of opposite charges, enclosed for example by a pocket of ionized gases, could function quite effectively by manipulating each other within the system.”

“It sounds as if you’re talking about a living battery.”

“That’s an oversimplification. Let me explain in more detail—”

“No. That’s okay. Might such a system achieve intelligence?”

“I’m not sure how to define intelligence. But I think it could perform fairly sophisticated tasks.”

“Like piloting a starship?”

“Probably.”

“Where would it get energy?”

“You indicated a greenish tint. Green eyes. That might indicate the presence of chloroplasts. That would allow it to convert light.”

She directed the flyer to take off. “How would you combat such a creature?”

“Lure it into an area of extremely high winds. Separate
the molecules. Put enough external pressure on it that it becomes unable to maintain its integrity.”