But she’d spent six hours on arduous duty and wasn’t quite ready to sleep.
She got a cup of hot chocolate from the dispenser, changed into pajamas, looked through the library, and picked out The Queen Under Fire, an account of the liner’s service during the war against Pacifica. She read for about a half hour and then directed the room to turn out the lights.
They dimmed and went off. A female voice asked whether she wanted anything else.
Kim thought it over and gave her instructions.
She lay back, stared into the darkness, and thought about what Tripley had said. End of the Empire. Truth was, people had probably always been saying things like that. People always believe they live in a crumbling world.
The Star Queen’s flight deck materialized around her.
“Captain, we have company.” Cyrus Klein’s voice was steady.
The situation flashed onscreen. Eight blips moving toward them, intercept course, off the port quarter.
Kim settled into the command chair. “Can you identify them, Mr. Klein?”
“Just a moment, Captain.” His eyes narrowed as he waited for the returns to clear.
“Assume the worst,” she said. “Aheadfull. Collision stations. Shields up. Where’s our escort?”
8
Truth is like nudity: It is on occasion indispensable, but it is dangerous and should not be displayed openly. It is truth that gives life its grandeur, but the polite fictions that make it bearable.
In the morning Kim ate breakfast with Cole, thanked him for his hospitality, checked her bag through to Terminal City, and caught the shuttle to Sky Harbor.
Interstellar maintained its operations division in the lower hangars on the Plum Deck, so called because of the color of the walls. Kim showed up at the service desk and asked if she could speak with Walter Gaerhard. She gave her name and sat down to wait. A few minutes later a muscular man with skin the color of black ivory opened the door and looked in. “Dr. Brandywine?” he asked.
“Mr. Gaerhard.”
He smiled and offered his hand. “You wanted to see me?”
“For a few minutes.”
“I’m not buying anything.”
“It’s nothing like that. Can I take you to lunch?”
He was looking closely at her, trying to imagine why she was there. “It’s early, Doctor. But thank you. What can I do for you?”
“How good’s your memory?”
“It’s okay.” He led her into a side office. “Are you from Personnel?”
“No. I’m not connected with the company.”
He offered a chair and took one himself. “So what did you want me to remember?”
“I want to go back twenty-seven years.”
“That’s a few.”
“You did some repairs on the jump engines of a yacht owned by the Tripley Foundation. The Hunter.”
His features hardened. “Don’t remember,” he said. “Twenty-seven years is a long time.”
“Interstellar must keep records. Would it help to consult them?”
“Not that far back.”
“You don’t recall working on the Hunter? At all?”
“No.” He stood up. “How could you expect me to? What’s this about, anyway?”
“I’m doing research on the Tripley Foundation. The Hunter is a key part of that history. It was Kile Tripley’s personal yacht.”
“I just don’t remember anything that long ago.” He was leaning toward the door, anxious to be away. “Anything else?”
“I’m not the police,” she said. “I’m not suggesting anything’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry to cut this short but I really have to get to work.” And he literally bolted from the room, leaving her staring after him.
The crash that had killed Kim’s parents was one of those anomalies that isn’t supposed to be possible. People died in accidents: they fell off mountains and sailed into storms and got cramps while swimming, but the transportation systems were very nearly 100 percent safe. Very nearly.
Afterward Kim’s aunt Jessica had taken her in, and among the numerous gifts she received from that fine woman had been an appreciation for mysteries. Although it had taken Markis Kane to introduce her to Veronica King.
On the train home, she dived into The Parkington Horror, one of the earlier adventures of that eccentric private investigator. The detective’s Moor Island home base was filled with artifacts from the early years of settlement. The atmosphere was gothic, the dramas played out in crumbling ruins along the ocean or in upland retreats whose sloping dormers and gray windows reflected the madness of their builders.
But Kim wasn’t able to put the interviews with Tripley and Gaerhard out of her mind. The CEO had convinced her that, if anything out of the way had happened on the last flight, he was unaware of it. And didn’t want to know about it.
Gaerhard, on the other hand, was hiding something. She asked herself what secret he could possibly be guarding? And judging from his reaction, it was a secret that would still get him in trouble, even after all these years. The only thing she could think of was that there had been no mechanical problem with the Hunter, or there had been a different problem from the one claimed. And that he had faked the reports. Which meant he’d been bribed. If so, it suggested the Hunter had returned for reasons other than needing repairs. But what might those reasons have been?
Even if Sheyel was right and there had been a contact, why all the secrecy?
The Seahawk settled into a gentle rocking motion and salt air found its way into the cabin. Occasionally a train hammered past in the opposite direction.
She opened a channel to her office.
“Hello, Kim,” said Andra. “How’d the Star Queen go?”
“Out of this world,” she said. “Are you busy?”
“Sure. I’m always up to my ears. You know that.”
“Right. When you get out from under the pile I want you to do something for me. There was an explosion in the Severin Valley in 573. Side blew out of a mountain, lot of people killed. You ever hear of it?”
“Vaguely.” That meant no.
“It happened at Mount Hope. I want you to find everything you can on the event and lay it out for me: media coverage, police reports, whatever. One of the victims, Kile Tripley, was only a couple of days back from an interstellar mission on board the Hunter. Two other members of that crew, two women, vanished at about the same time.” She gave her their names. “Get whatever you can on them, what they did with their spare time, who their friends were, anything you can find. And Kile Tripley too. He was the CEO at Interstellar. And I’d like to know if anybody was ever arrested or charged with anything.”
“Okay. May I ask why?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Not sure myself yet, Andra. Can you get everything together this afternoon?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Please. And send it to my place. I’ll be going directly home. And Andra—?”
“Yes?”
“There’s an archeologist at Wheeling Bay. Her name’s Kane. Tora Kane. See if you can arrange for me to stop by there tomorrow and see her.”
Kim leaned back, the e-book resting on her lap, and closed her eyes. A shiver of excitement rose up her spine.
When she got home she found a note from Matt congratulating her on what was, “from all reports, an outstanding effort.” She also had a three o’clock appointment next day with Tora Kane at something called the Colson site, along with a code locator for the cab.
Other than Kane’s ex-wives, his only known relative, and the only person with whom he’d maintained a close relationship, was his daughter Tora. Tora Kane had been quoted in the record to the effect that her father had never been the same after the Mount Hope event, that he had tried to stay on at Severin Village, hoping the town could rebuild. But everyone had given up. Too many bad memories. And then the news had arrived that the dam would have to come down.