Why? was the next question. Some notion of giving the ship hell?
Some ploy to get himself shipped back to Pell with apologies? It was the first thing Fletcher had asked for.
Some bogused-up stick out of materials Fletcher could have gotten onplanet very easily, carvings Fletcher could have done, the whole thing his ticket to Pell if he could con a gullible junior-junior into serving as witness and setting the whole crew at odds with each other.
He sat alone in A deck rec and enjoyed a cup of coffee that didn’t entail going down to the mess hall where Fletcher was working, because the thoughts that were beginning to replay in his brain kept pointing to Fletcher as the origin of the problem.
His pocket-com had, however, messages. A lot of messages. From Toby:
I didn’t hear anything about it. It seems to me the junior-juniors might be playing a prank, and it got out of hand.
From Ashley: I didn’t hear anything. I assure you I would tell you if I had.
Nike came quietly up to him, and settled into the seat opposite his at the table.
“I don’t know who particularly had it in for Fletcher, but if you could kind of tell us what’s missing maybe we could look for it, in case, you know, somebody’s kind of scared to come forward?”
“In the whole ship? We’re not talking about something the size of a shipping cannister.”
“So what is it?” Nike said. “If it was in Fletcher’s cabin it was smaller than a shipping can. But how big could it be? Like a piece of jewelry?”
“Bigger.” He was down to games with people who’d be his life and death reliance when they replaced senior crew. “Tomorrow,” he said, hoping that the long hours of mainnight would weigh on someone’s conscience. “Tomorrow I might be more specific.”
Nike was the sort who’d badger after an answer. But she didn’t. She got up quietly and left. He saw her at the edge of the area talking to Bucklin, and saw Bucklin shake his head
Bucklin came to him after that, sat down in the seat Nike had vacated and leaned crossed arms on the table.
“This,” Bucklin said, “is poisonous. Jamie, let me tell them at least what we’re trying to find.”
“I’m not sure what we’re trying to find. I’m not sure I trust Fletcher.”
“You think he’s putting one over on us? Why?”
“To get back to Pell! I don’t know.”
“Possible,” Bucklin said. “But it’s also possible Vince—or Linda—”
“Or Sue. Or Connor, or Chad. Maybe we should just post armed guard. You and I stand in the corridor and shoot the first one that stirs toward another cabin.”
Bucklin’s shoulders slumped. “I’d rather think it was Fletcher.”
“So would I. That’s why I distrust my own wishes. Either he’s the best liar in lightyears about or he’s suffered an extreme injustice, and I don’t know which. I don’t know whether he’s laughing at us or whether someone in this crew has completely lost his senses.”
“I think we ought to pull a search.”
“For an object you could fit in a duffle and over an entire ship that’s been opened up to crew at dock.”
“If someone hid it during dock you can eliminate half the ring.”
“But not the entire damn hold.”
“Possible. But you’d have to suit to go in the hold. In the ring skin you don’t have to. If Fletcher hid it, it’d be in places Fletcher knows, right near the galley. If somebody else did it, that still means they’d play hob getting to half the ring during dock, and they’d probably not want to stay long or climb high to do it. I say we search the parts of the ring skin that are convenient during dock, and search in the storage lockers and the office near the galley stores first of all. That’s where Fletcher was hazed. That could be the place somebody might put it.”
It made sense. “But we’ve got Champlain out there.”
“I’d say if we’re going to find that thing we look now, while we’re still in Mariner space. If we wait till the deep dark, damn sure it’s going to be more dangerous to go larking about in the ring. But if we don’t do something to find it, we’ve got to live with that, too.—And maybe—maybe somehow it’ll materialize so we can find it. It’s a lot easier for it to turn up out there, you know, just kind of—by happenstance.”
“What’s the matter with walking in and laying it on my bunk?”
“Your bunk is in your cabin, and your door is visible up and down the corridor where we have cameras.”
“What do they think? I’d say go in and do it anonymously and then sit on the bridge and use the cameras?”
“I think everybody thinks this is a real serious issue that reflects pretty badly on whoever did it, and maybe right now somebody is real scared that he’s completely lost your trust. I think whoever did it had rather die than have it known.”
He looked up at Bucklin. “You don’t know who that someone is, do you?”
Bucklin’s face registered—something. “Listen to us,” Bucklin said. “Listen to us talking to each other.”
“Hell,” JR said. Bucklin was his right arm, his friend, his closer-than-brother. And he’d just asked if Bucklin was hiding something from him.
“We’ve got to do something,” Bucklin said. “Yeah, we’ve got serious trouble out in front of us. But we’ve got guns for that, and we’ve got a warship riding beside us, protecting us. We’ve got defenses against the outside. This is right at our heart.”
“Go search where you think we ought to search.” He’d told Bucklin what the object was. It was time to relinquish that card regarding the rest of the crew. “Send the crew by twos to do it.”
“Including Fletcher?”
He drew a slow breath. “Everybody. Pair Jeremy with Linda for that duty. I’ll go with Fletcher, if nothing turns up right off.”
“Do the seniors know what’s going on?”
“I don’t think so. Alan does. I told him. But this is a nasty, distracting business. Bridge crew doesn’t need to know, if we can clean it up. Let’s just keep this quiet. We’re locked down during alterday. There’s just this next watch to look.”
“When did you hear that?”
“That’s the word that just came. We’re going to do a hard burn during mainnight, third watch. Straight into jump.” A thought occurred to him. “If it was in the ring skin and somebody didn’t secure it before we spun up, hell, no telling where it could get to.”
“Damn. That is a thought. Not to mention where it could get to during the burn. If somebody did hide it for a joke, and it slid under something, or into something, they might not be able to find it.”
“Wood and feathers. Low mass. God knows where it could get to.” It was frustrating, not even to know whether Fletcher could have chucked it down the waste disposal. Surely nobody on Finity had grown up without knowing about the hisa. Surely nobody on Finity could go into a cabin on a prank and taken something made of wood and real feathers, in ignorance the thing was valuable. Surely no one would destroy a thing like that. Take somebody’s entire stock of underwear and dispose of them in some unusual place, yes, in a minute. But not real wood. Everybody aboard had seen wood,—hadn’t they? Nobody was stupid enough to mistake its value. Nobody aboard disrespected the hisa, the only other intelligent life they’d found in the universe. That was just unthinkable, that someone in the Family would have that attitude.