The Currents of Space (18 page)

“What disturbances?”

“You cannot have forgotten the incident in the library.”

“A patroller killed! Really, Captain!”

“And a second patroller killed this morning, my Lady, and a native as well. It is not very usual for natives to kill patrollers and here is one who has done it twice, and yet remains uncaught. Is he a lone hand? Is it an accident? Or is it all part of a carefully laid scheme?”

“Apparently you believe the last.”

“Yes, I do. The murdering native had two accomplices. Their description is rather like that of our two stowaways.”

“You never said so!”

“I did not wish to alarm Your Ladyship. You’ll remember, however, that I told you repeatedly that they could be dangerous.”

“Very well. What follows from all this?”

“What if the murders on Florina were simply side shows intended to distract the attention of the patroller squadrons while these two sneaked aboard our ship?”

“That sounds so silly.”

“Does it? Why are they running away from Florina? We haven’t asked them. Let us suppose they are running away from the patrollers since that is certainly the most reasonable assumption. Would they be running to Sark of all places? And on a ship that carries Your Ladyship? And then he claims to be a Spatio-analyst.”

Samia frowned. “What of that?”

“A year ago a Spatio-analyst was reported missing. The story was never given wide publicity. I knew, of course, because my ship was one of those that searched near space for signs of his ship. Whoever is backing these Florinian disorders has undoubtedly seized on that fact, and just knowing that the matter of the missing Spatio-analyst is known to them shows what a tight and unexpectedly efficient organization they have.”

“It might be that the Earthman and the missing Spatio-analyst have no connection.”

“No real connection, my Lady, undoubtedly. But to expect no connection at all is to expect too much of coincidence. It is an impostor we are dealing with. That is why he claims to have been psycho-probed.”

“Oh?”

“How can we prove he
isn’t
a Spatio-analyst? He knows no details of the planet Earth beyond the bare fact that it is radioactive. He cannot pilot a ship. He knows nothing of Spatio-analysis. And he covers up by insisting he was psycho-probed. Do you see, my Lady?”

Samia could make no direct answer. “But to what purpose?” she demanded.

“So that you might do exactly what you said you intended to do, my Lady.”

“Investigate the mystery?”

“No, my Lady. Take the man to your father.”

“I still see no point.”

“There are several possibilities. At the best, he could be a spy upon your father, either for Florina or possibly for Trantor. I imagine old Abel of Trantor would certainly come forward to
identify him as an Earthman, if for no other reason than to embarrass Sark by demanding the truth concerning this fictitious psycho-probing. At the worst, he will be your father’s assassin.”

“Captain!”

“My Lady?”

“This is ridiculous!”

“Perhaps, my Lady. But if so, the Department of Security is also ridiculous. You will recall that just before dinner I was called away to receive a message from Sark.”

“Yes.”

“This is it.”

Samia received the thin translucent foil with its red lettering. It said: “Two Florinians are reported to have taken secret, illegal passage on your ship. Secure them immediately. One of them may claim to be a Spatio-analyst and not a Florinian native. You are to take no action in this matter. You will be held strictly responsible for the safety of these people. They are to be held for delivery to Depsec. Extreme secrecy. Extreme urgency.”

Samia felt stunned. “Depsec,” she said. “The Department of Security.”

“Extreme secrecy,” said the Captain. “I stretch a point to tell you this, but you have left me no choice, my Lady.”

She said, “What will they do to him?”

“I cannot say for certain,” said the Captain. “Certainly a suspected spy and assassin cannot expect gentle treatment. Probably his pretense will become partly a reality and he will learn what a psycho-probe is really like.”

The Four Great Squires regarded the Squire of Fife each in his own way. Bort was angry, Rune was amused, Balle was annoyed, and Steen was frightened.

Rune spoke first. He said, “High treason? Are you trying to frighten us with a phrase? What does it mean? Treason against you? Against Bort? Against myself? By whom and how? And for Sark’s sake, Fife, these conferences interfere with my normal sleeping hours.”

“The results,” said Fife, “may interfere with many sets of sleeping hours. I don’t refer to treason against any of us, Rune. I mean treason against Sark.”

Bort said, “Sark? What’s that, anyway, if not us?”

“Call it a myth. Call it something ordinary Sarkites believe in.”

“I don’t understand,” moaned Steen. “You men always seem so interested in talking each other down. Really! I wish you’d get all this over with.”

Balle said, “I agree with Steen.” Steen looked gratified.

Fife said, “I’m perfectly willing to explain immediately. You have heard, I suppose, of the recent disturbances on Florina.”

Rune said, “The Depsec dispatches speak of several patrollers killed. Is that what you mean?”

Bort broke in angrily. “By Sark, if we must have a conference,
let’s talk about that. Patrollers killed! They deserve to be killed! Do you mean to say a native can simply come up to a patroller and bash his head in with a two-by-four? Why should any patroller let any native with a two-by-four in his hand come close enough to use it? Why wasn’t the native burned down at twenty paces?

“By Sark, I’d rattle the Patrol Corps from captain to recruit and send every dunderhead out on ship duty. The entire Corps is just an accumulation of fat. It’s too easy a life for them down there. I say that every five years we should put Florina under martial law and scrape out the troublemakers. It would keep the natives quiet and our own men on their toes.”

“Are you through?” asked Fife.

“For now, yes. But I’ll take it up again. It’s my investment down there, too, you know. It may not be as big as yours, Fife, but it’s big enough for me to worry about.”

Fife shrugged. He turned suddenly to Steen. “And have
you
heard of the disturbances?”

Steen jumped. “I have. I mean, I’ve heard you just saying——”

“You haven’t read the Depsec announcements?”

“Well, really!” Steen became intensely interested in his long, pointed fingernails with their exquisitely applied coppery coating. “I don’t always have time to read
all
the announcements. I didn’t know it was required of me. In fact,” and he gathered his courage in both hands and looked full at Fife, “I didn’t know you were making rules for me. Really!”

“I haven’t,” said Fife. “Just the same since you, at least, know none of the details, let me summarize it for you. The rest may find it interesting as well.”

It was surprising into how few words the events of forty-eight hours could be put and how flat they could sound. First, there had been an unexpected reference to Spatio-analysis texts. Then a blow on the head of a superannuated patroller who died of a fractured skull two hours later. Then a pursuit that ended with untouchability in the lair of a Trantorian agent. Then a second patroller dead at dawn with the murderer tricked out in the patrollers
uniform and the Trantorian agent dead in his turn some hours later.

“If you wish the very latest nugget of news,” Fife concluded, “you might add this to this catalog of apparent trivia. Some hours ago a body, or, rather, the bony remnants of one, was found in City Park on Florina.”

“Whose body?” asked Rune.

“Just a moment, please. Lying next to it was a pile of ash that seemed to be the charred remnants of clothing. Anything of metal had been carefully removed from it, but the ash analysis proved it to be what was left of a patroller uniform.”

“Our impostoring friend?” asked Balle.

“Not likely,” said Fife. “Who would kill him in secret?”

“Suicide,” said Bort viciously. “How long did the bloody bastard expect to keep out of our hands? I imagine he had a better death this way. Personally, I’d find out who in the Corps were responsible for letting him reach the suicide stage and put a one-charge blaster in
their
hands.”

“Not likely,” said Fife again. “If the man committed suicide he either killed himself first, then took off his uniform, blasted it to ash, removed the buckles and braid, and then got rid of them. Or else he first removed his uniform, ashed it, removed the buckles and braid, left the cave naked, or perhaps in his underwear, discarded them, came back and killed himself.”

“The body was in a cave?” asked Bort

“In one of the ornamental caves of the Park. Yes.”

“Then he had plenty of time and plenty of privacy,” said Bort belligerently. He hated to give up a theory. “He could have taken off the buckles and braid first, then——”

“Ever try to remove braid from a patroller uniform that hasn’t been ashed first?” asked Fife sarcastically. “And can you suggest a motive, if the body were that of the impostor after suicide? Besides, I have a report from the medical examiners who studied the bone structure. The skeleton is that of neither a patroller nor a Florinian. It is of a Sarkite.”

Steen cried, “Really!”; Balle’s old eyes opened wide; Rune’s
metal teeth, which, by catching a gleam of light now and then, added a bit of life to the cube of dusk in which he sat, vanished as he closed his mouth. Even Bort was dumfounded.

“Do you follow?” asked Fife. “Now you see why the metal was removed from the uniform. Whoever killed the Sarkite wanted the ash to be taken for that of the Sarkite’s own clothing, removed and ashed before the killing, which we might then take for suicide or for the result of a private feud in no way connected with our patroller-impostor friend. What he did not know was that ash analysis could distinguish between the kyrt of Sarkite clothing and the cellulite of a patroller uniform even with the buckles and braid removed.

“Now given a dead Sarkite and the ash of a patroller uniform, we can only assume that somewhere in Upper City there is a live Townman in Sarkite clothing. Our Florinian, having posed as a patroller long enough, and finding the danger too great and growing greater, decided to become a Squire. And he did that in the only way he could.”

“Has he been caught?” inquired Bort thickly.

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Why not? By Sark, why not?”

“He will be caught,” said Fife indifferently. “At the moment we have more important things to wonder about. This last atrocity is a trifle in comparision.”

“Get to the point!” demanded Rune instantly.

“Patience! First, let me ask you if you remember the missing Spatio-analyst of last year.”

Steen giggled.

Bort said with infinite contempt, “That again?”

Steen asked, “Is there a connection? Or are we just going to talk about that horrible affair of last year all over again? I’m tired.”

Fife was unmoved. He said, “This explosion of yesterday and day before yesterday began with a request at the Florinian library for reference books on Spatio-analysis. That is connection
enough for me. Let’s see if I can’t make the connection for the rest of you as well. I will begin by describing the three people involved in the library incident, and please, let me have no interruptions for a few moments.

“First, there is a Townman. He is the dangerous one of the three. On Sark he had an excellent record as an intelligent and faithful piece of material. Unfortunately he has now turned his abilities against us. He is undoubtedly the one responsible for four killings now. Quite a record for anyone. Considering that the four include two patrollers and a Sarkite, it is unbelievably remarkable for a native. And he is still uncaught.

“The second person involved is a native woman. She is uneducated and completely insignificant. However, the last couple of days have seen an extensive search into every facet of this affair and we know her history. Her parents were members of the ‘Soul of Kyrt’ if any of you remember that rather ridiculous peasant conspiracy that was wiped out without trouble some twenty years ago.

“This brings us to the third person, the most unusual one of the three. This third person was a common mill hand and an idiot.”

There was an expulsion of breath from Bort and another high-pitched giggle from Steen. Balle’s eyes remained closed and Rune was motionless in the dark.

Fife said, “The word ‘idiot’ is not used figuratively. Depsec has driven itself mercilessly but his history could not be traced back more than ten and a half months. At that time he was found in a village just outside Florina’s main metropolis in a state of complete mindlessness. He could neither walk nor talk. He could not even feed himself.

“Now note that he made this first appearance some few weeks after the disappearance of the Spatio-analyst. Note in addition that, in a matter of months, he learned how to talk and even how to fill a job at a kyrt mill. What kind of an idiot could learn so quickly?”

Steen began, almost eagerly, “Oh, really, if he were psycho-probed properly, it could be arranged so . . .” His voice trailed off.

Fife said sardonically, “I can think of no greater authority on the subject. Even without Steen’s expert opinion, however, the same thought occurred to me. It was the only possible explanation.

“Now the psycho-probing could have taken place only on Sark or in Upper City on Florina. As a matter of simple thoroughness, doctors’ offices in Upper City were checked. There was no trace of any unauthorized psycho-probing. It was then the notion of one of our agents to check the records of doctors who had died since the idiot first made his appearance. I shall see to it that he is promoted for that idea.

“We found a record of our idiot in just one of those offices. He had been brought in for a physical checkup about six months ago by the peasant woman who is the second of our trio. Apparently this was done secretly since she was absent that day from her job on quite another pretext. The doctor examined the idiot and recorded definite evidence of psycho-probic tampering.