“Ahh. Those may be a tr-r-rifle difficult to locate. But if you would like to wait—?”
The librarian rose with a flutter and disappeared down the hall. When she returned, a few minutes later, she seemed agitated. “I’ve spoken to the archives director. Those were very old papers, and I’m afraid they were removed from the collection some years ago.” She puffed a few times.
Harriet cocked her head curiously. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is anything wrong, Adaria?”
“What? Ffff—no. That is, I don’t think so. It’s just that the question seemed to disturb the director for some reason. I don’t know why.” The librarian nervously fluffed a vestigial wing.
“I see,” Harriet said, frowning. “Would you happen to know why the papers were removed?”
Adaria looked uncertain. “Lack of demand, is the usual reason. If no one was interested, they wouldn’t be kept forever.”
Legroeder stirred. “That seems odd. It was a Faber Eridani ship. Wouldn’t someone be interested in the legend—for tourist value, if nothing else?”
“An inter-r-resting question,” said the Fabri. “I recall there were some private press items written on the subject. But they never generated much interest. We don’t even have copies here.”
Harriet rubbed her chin, as the librarian shrugged. “Tell me. When the materials were removed, would they have been destroyed?”
“Well—fffff—that’s difficult to know. It’s been years.”
“If they weren’t destroyed, what would have been done with them?”
Adaria clucked thoughtfully. “It’s possible they were passed on to a smaller, more specialized collection. That sometimes happens with outdated mater-r-rials.”
“And would there be a way to find out who they might have been passed on to?”
Adaria consulted her compad. “Ffff—herrre’s a thought. Those small prrress items I mentioned? Several of them were wr-r-ritten and published by a R-r-robert McGinnis.”
Harriet turned her hands up. “Do you know this man?”
“I know of him,” Adaria said. “He is a p-r-rivate collector of archives, with a special interest in materials dating from the War of a Thousand Suns. He has a reputation as a r-recluse, but his collection is well regarded. Let me see if his location is available… Fffff, yes. Would you like it?”
“Please,” said Harriet. She placed the ring on her right hand against the edge of the librarian’s compad. Then she nodded. “Thank you, Adaria. You’ve been most helpful.”
The librarian rose, her wings fluttering. “It’s always a pleasure, Mrs. Mahoney. Perhaps next time we can rrresearch some, ffff, Iliution gems. We have some wonderful new materials on them. Wonderful materials.”
Harriet smiled. “Perhaps next time.” She gestured to Legroeder. “Shall we?”
Legroeder nodded politely to the Fabri librarian and followed Harriet back through the halls and out of the building. “Was that worthwhile?” he asked, squinting in the bright midmorning sun, now bluish in tint.
“We’ll find out, I suppose.” Harriet hummed for a few moments. “Adaria is a dear, and always helpful. I’ve done some work for her people, you know—the Fabri natives have problems from time to time with our brand of civilization—including extremist groups like Centrist Strength encroaching on their land and bothering them because they can get away with it. I’ve been able to give them some legal advice on occasion.”
Legroeder glanced at her, surprised. “You get around, don’t you? And so does Centrist Strength, it sounds like.”
Harriet shrugged, frowning. “There’s a lot that goes on that you wouldn’t suspect—even if you were here for more than just the occasional port of call.” Before he could react, she waved him around a corner. “Would you like to look in on your friend in the hospital? I’ll see what I can learn about Mr. McGinnis, and we can meet in that lovely coffee shop around the corner from the hospital…”
Legroeder sat motionless, his hand resting near Maris’s arm. He watched her sleep in the hydrobed, thinking, Sleep. She’s asleep. Better to think that than the other. That she’s in a coma. Being slowly suffocated by those damned implants. The burns on her face and neck leered at him from under the clear bandages. She got me out of the raider outpost alive. She slowed up the guards for us—even with the shots she took herself. He shook his head grimly.
He wished he could give her a chance to escape now. Escape from this hospital room. From the shadow of death. He rested his head back against the hospital room wall and closed his eyes, willing away the feeling of helplessness—not just about Maris, but about whatever was behind his own troubles. How many enemies can one guy have, anyway? He hated to think.
“Mr. Legroeder?”
He opened his eyes. “Yes?”
It was an attending robot. “I’m sorry, but your visiting time is up.”
He rose with a sigh. “You’ll send word if there’s any change?”
“Of course, sir.”
Legroeder uttered a silent prayer in the direction of his companion, and walked off in search of Harriet.
He found her at a back table in the coffee shop, her compad plugged into the wall. “Ah, there you are,” she said. “I was starting to worry. Don’t sit down, we’re leaving.”
“Huh? Where are we going?” He’d been looking forward to a good strong Eridani coffee with marsotz cream.
“To the aircar rental.”
Legroeder blinked in confusion.
Harriet rose, packing her compad. “I’ve rented a flyer to take us for a visit to our Mr. McGinnis.”
“That was fast. Have you talked to him?”
Harriet shook her head. “Mr. McGinnis doesn’t have a listed com number. But I’ve made a few inquiries. Very reclusive man, it seems—but respected by those who know of him. He’s a former space-marine.” She urged Legroeder toward the door. “He also has the planet’s most complete set of archives from the War of a Thousand Suns. Besides which, he has a special interest in rigging history.” Harriet smiled grimly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t mind surprise visitors.”
Chapter 6
Historical Truths
The McGinnis estate was located four hundred and thirty kilometers northwest of the Elmira spaceport, a little over an hour’s flight at the speed of a rental flyer. The countryside flowing beneath them was wooded and green. The autopilot seemed confident of finding the address, so Legroeder and Harriet didn’t have much to do except drink their coffee and worry.
Legroeder asked Harriet why, if she had been so obsessed (her word) with this case for the last seven years, she had never researched the history of Impris before.
Harriet looked at Legroeder with amusement. “You aren’t accustomed to solving puzzles, are you, dear?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, think about it. How would I have known, until you came back, that Impris was even involved? I’m almost as interested in knowing why that information was taken from the library as I am in knowing about the ship itself. Was it innocent, or was someone deliberately hiding it? And if the latter, why? Once we know that, I think we’ll be closer to understanding why you were framed.”
Legroeder shrugged. “The librarian said if the documents weren’t being used—”
Harriet laughed. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you must have made a very poor pirate.”