“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 recreate 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.”
23