She shivered. "I suppose."
I finished the operation in silence. A moment later, with the pieces of what was left of the Rontra scattered around the table, I held up the Nemuti Lynx. "Okay," I said, turning to Gargantua. "Your turn."
"Take her," he said, letting go of Penny's arm and taking the sculpture. Without another word, he and the other Halka turned and joined the line of people heading for the torchliner boarding areas.
Morse heaved a sigh. "So that's it," he said. "No crime, no suspect; and now no evidence. Might as well not even have made the trip."
"No, we still have a crime," I said. "Mr. Künstler's murder, remember?"
"Like we're actually going to solve that now," he said with an edge of bitterness.
"We might," I said. The two Halkas had passed through a wide archway and angled out of our sight. "As for the evidence, don't count that out yet, either," I added. "I'll be right back."
I crossed to the edge of the archway and cautiously looked through. There were a fair number of passengers streaming down the corridors, but Gargantua's size made him easy to pick out of the crowd. As I watched, the two of them turned into the third of the five hatchways, paused briefly at the registration desk, and disappeared inside.
I looked at the schedule listing above my archway. The torchliner behind that door was heading for the city of Parrda, on the Central Continent, and was scheduled to leave in three hours. Smiling, I retraced my steps to the rest of our group.
"Well?" Morse asked as I came up.
"They're taking the Lynx to Parrda," I told him.
"Good," Stafford said. "Let's get us some tickets."
Penny and Morse both looked at him in astonishment. Penny got the words out first. "What in the world are you talking about?" she demanded. "I just got away from those people."
"They killed Uncle Rafael," he reminded her.
"You can't do anything about that," Penny protested.
"Maybe not," Stafford said. "But they also have my sculpture, and I want it back."
"Relax," I put in as Penny visibly gathered herself together for another try. "We're not going to just charge aboard the torchliner and demand they return Mr. Stafford's property. I had something a little more circumspect in mind."
"Such as?" she asked.
"Such as renting a torchyacht and seeing if we can get to Parrda ahead of them."
"Following them from in front, in other words?" Morse suggested.
"Something like that," I said. "People with guilty consciences tend to focus their attention over their shoulders."
"I'm in," Stafford said firmly, digging a cash stick out of his pocket. "The rest of you can do whatever you want. Where do we go to hire this torchyacht?"
In the end, we all decided to go. Even Penny, who was equal parts aghast that we would pull such a bonehead stunt and adamant that she wasn't going to head back to Earth alone.
I'd never been inside a torchyacht before, and was rather surprised by both its roominess and the plainness of its decor and furnishings. But then, this one was a Nemuti craft, and the Nemuti as a species weren't especially noted for their love of ruffles and flourishes.
Stafford didn't have a pilot's license—probably one of the few university majors he hadn't gotten to yet—but Morse and I both had current military-grade certificates that covered civilian craft this size. We got ourselves checked out on the torchyacht's control systems, drained a hefty up-front fee and an even heftier deposit out of Stafford's cash sticks, and headed out.
The universe was an incredibly beautiful place. Beautiful and lonely both. It was something I tended to forget sometimes, traveling inside a cozy Quadrail Tube or flying cross-system wrapped up in a torchliner with a thousand other people, with only the occasional visit to an observation lounge to remind me of what things looked like outside.
But from the cockpit of a torchyacht, with the stars and nebulae spread out in front of me through a wraparound canopy, it was all very clear. And very humbling.
Morse, whose license was more up-to-date than mine, handled the job of maneuvering us away from the transfer station. After that I took over, feeding in the positioning data and keying in our course. Laarmiten was currently on the far side of its orbit from the Quadrail station, which translated to a twenty-day trip. Fortunately, torch vessels scooped their own fuel from the interplanetary medium around us, and even a ship as small as a torchyacht routinely packed enough food, drink, and air for trips three times that long.
Even more fortunately, I had no intention of taking us all the way to Laarmiten.
I gave it two hours, just to be on the safe side. Then I changed course, locked in the autopilot, and headed back to the dayroom.
Stafford and Penny were seated together on a small couch, holding hands and talking quietly but earnestly together. Bayta was reading in a chair a quarter of the way around the room from them, while Morse was at the center table, splitting his attention between a Scotch and something he was writing. "Your report to ESS?" I asked as I came over to him.
"The latest version, yes," he said, taking a sip from his drink. "I don't think I've ever been on a job that required such a massive rewrite every third day."
"I wouldn't worry about it," I said, sitting across the table from him, resting my right hand in my lap out of his sight. "From this point on, I think the report's pretty well finished."
He frowned. "How do you figure? We still have to get to Laarmiten and find the Lynx—"
"Or rather," I said quietly, "you're pretty well finished."
Across the room, Penny and Stafford stopped talking. Bayta laid aside her reader. "So I was right, after all," Morse said into the silence. "That story was nothing but the truth turned inside-out, wasn't it?"
"What story?" Stafford asked.
"He spun me a tale about some villainous group mind called the Modhri," Morse said, his eyes locked on me. "They supposedly arose during a war—"
"Yes, I know the story," Stafford interrupted. "What do you mean he turned it inside-out?"
"He claimed that vanished Quadrail train a few months ago was him and UN Deputy Director Losutu foiling a plot by this Modhri group mind," Morse said. "Only I think it was the other way around. I think he's the one who's gone over the side, and it was Colonel Applegate who was trying to stop him."
A shiver of memory ran through me. Colonel Terrance Applegate had once been my superior in Westali. He'd subsequently become my ex-superior, and later my deadly enemy.
My reaction to his name must have shown on my face, because Morse gave me a faint smile. "Oh, yes, I knew the colonel," he said "Quite well, in fact. I met him after he left Westali and started working for the UN Directorate. He recognized my potential and helped me start climbing the ESS ladder. I returned the favor by recommending he be offered a job with the Service." His face darkened. "And then he stepped aboard a Quadrail train with you and Losutu and disappeared."
"I guess that explains why you hate me," I said as the final piece of Morse's personal puzzle fell into place. "It also explains how you came to be a Modhri walker."
"A what?" Penny asked, sounding bewildered.
"An unsuspecting member of the Modhri group mind," Stafford told her, his eyes on Morse. "You sure about this, Compton?"
"I'm positive," I said, watching Morse closely. Somewhere along here the Modhri colony within him would realize the jig was up, take over his body, and make a fight of it. "Applegate was probably the one who got Morse infected."
"Ridiculous," Morse spat. "I've never touched Modhran coral in my life."
"I'm sure you don't remember," I said. "The Modhri's been working on keeping a very low profile, especially on Earth."
"So you therefore argue from silence?" Morse snorted. "What dazzling logic."
"No, I argue from my knowledge of the Modhri and how he works," I said. "Particularly how he uses thought viruses to carry subtle suggestions between friends and trusted colleagues. Which is how I know for certain you're carrying a Modhran colony beneath your brain." I gestured to Penny. "You really shouldn't have tried to make me fall in love with her."