“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
Familiarity and invisibility are sides of the same coin.
The Valiant stood on its shelf, polished and brilliant. Its shining presence, and Tripley’s ignorance of its significance, amused her. A mean-spirited reaction, she thought, but nonetheless there it was.
“I wasn’t sure,” she told him, “that you’d consent to see me.” They were alone in his office.
He kept his emotions masked and his tone detached. “Why would I not, Kim?” He remained seated behind his desk, allowing her to stand.
“I didn’t intend any of this to happen,” she said.
“I know that.” He pushed back in his chair. “But we all know about good intentions. You destroyed my father’s reputation.” His voice remained flat. “He did not kill those people. He would never have harmed anyone”
“I believe that. I think something unexpected happened during the flight of the Hunter. Something that caused the tragedy.” She lowered herself into a chair. She’d rehearsed everything she’d planned to say, but it all disintegrated in the heat of his presence. “This is not my fault,” she said.
“I know. More or less, it isn’t. But there’s no help for it now. I know you didn’t act out of vindictiveness. I’d have preferred you listened to me at the start, when I tried to warn you what would happen. But—” He shrugged. “It’s a bit late now.”
“Ben, there was no way I could not pursue this. It was a question of finding the truth.”
“And did you find the truth, Kim?”
Her eyes circled back to the Valiant. “Part of it.”
“Part of it.” His intercom sounded. He broke off, listened, told the machine he’d take care of the matter later, and looked back at her. “What truth have you discovered?”
What truth indeed? That the Valiant is a replica of the thing the Tripley mission encountered on the far side of St. Johns? That the Hunter was invaded by something unearthly?—How else explain what happened?—She was gazing at the Valiant as if it were a sacred object. “Tell me again where this came from,” she said.
He looked at it, puzzled. “What has that to do with anything?”
“Humor me, Ben.”
He shrugged. “My grandmother gave it to me.”
She got up and went over to it, looked at it, and ran her fingers across the shell. “May I?”
“Of course.”
She picked it up and gazed casually at it. “I’d like to have one of these made up for my nephew.”
He glanced at the spacecraft. “I can get you a sketch if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“It is a lovely piece.”
“I think I mentioned before it belonged originally to my father.”
She nodded. “Your grandmother passed it along to you.”
Muscles worked in his jaw. “That’s correct. I assume she told you that.”
“I’m sorry about that, too,” she said.
“It’s all right. You’ve caught me in a generous mood.” He softened. “Why the interest? Why do you care about it?”
“Bear with me a moment and I’ll tell you.” She held it under a lamp, letting its polished gleam sink into her fingertips. “When you were a boy, did it bother you that it had no propulsion tubes? No main engines? No way to get from one place to another?”
“Kim,” he said, perplexed, “what are we talking about here?”
She laid it before him, set it down on his desk, and then held out a picture of Kane’s mural. He took it from her, glanced at it, then gazed intently at the turtle-shell ship in Emily’s hand. He looked at the Valiant, frowned, and turned on a desk lamp. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
“It’s on a wall in Markis’s villa.”
His attention moved back and forth between the picture and the replica. “It’s the same, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it.”
“What the hell is it doing in one of Kane’s sketches?” Genuinely surprised, he put the picture down, placed both palms under the model’s superstructure, lifted it, and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. She watched him examine it, studying its antennas and sensor dishes and hatches. Here along the lower hull was a long door that might have led to a cargo hold or a launch bay for a lander. There was the familiar ring antenna used for hypercomm transmissions. Here was a pod that, to a boy, might have concealed a missile cluster.
Then his face changed, grew dark. He hefted the vehicle and his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He was staring at the model, weighing it with his hands. “It feels lighter than it used to.” He set it down and scratched the back of his neck. He ran his fingertips along the aft section. “That’s strange,” he said, puzzled.
She watched his eyes narrow.
“The rear hull should have a crease in it. But it’s not there.”
“I don’t follow.”
“There was a dent in the hull. Nothing you’d see unless you were looking closely.” He stared at the model. “And the gun’s different.”