“What did you expect me to do about a charge of embezzling?” Heikki asked, almost with resignation.
“Nothing, directly. But I knew you’d’ve kept the survey tapes, and I thought I might be able to make you mad enough to steal my disks—I can’t believe you didn’t—and that would give me enough data to prove my charges.”
Heikki was very aware of the disks jammed into her belt under her ribs, but made no move to betray that pressure. She said, slowly, not sure she wanted to hear the answer, “What was in those files you read, Galler?”
Galler looked back at her, his expression suddenly old. “I think—I can’t prove, but I think—that the EP1 disaster wasn’t caused by trying to fit another generator into the stability. The crystals—the core crystals—were flawed. Maybe deliberately so.”
There was a long silence. Heikki shivered, though the room was warm enough. If that was true, then Galler was right, this would not merely ruin Tremoth as a business, but half the galaxy would be after blood. “Why?” she said at last. “Why would they do that?”
Galler shrugged. “EP4 is the biggest of the stations on the Loop, just because there are four railheads here. The Southern Extension was slated for development next, and EP1 was getting five railheads. EP4 would probably have lost its primacy. Tremoth has a lot invested in EP4.”
Heikki shivered again, cold fear creeping along her spine. All that, all that destruction, the lives lost and an entire habitable system abandoned, its one possible Exchange location choked now with debris that was too massive to remove or destroy, and all for money, for abstract numbers in the system computers. “They wouldn’t’ve been poor,” she said almost to herself. “They’d still have been the main connector to the Northern Extension, still had all those profits, and Tremoth would’ve been handling it still—they wouldn’t’ve been poor.” She looked at Galler. “They just wouldn’t’ve been first.”
Galler nodded slowly. “These things matter, Heikki.”
Heikki shook her head in pointless denial. “They damn well oughtn’t,” she said fiercely, and knew even as she spoke that the words meant nothing to her brother. “Tell me,” she said instead, “would you have said anything, done anything, if they hadn’t tried to do you in?”
“Are you crazy?” Galler looked almost annoyed, as though the retort had been surprised out of him. “What good would it have done? The disaster was a century and a half ago. Their great-great-grandchildren are old now, the people who died then. No, if I’d been left to myself, I would’ve buried the file, manufactured a good reason for Lo-Moth not to pursue the crystal pattern, and left it all strictly alone.”
If you were paid enough, Heikki thought. Something of her disbelief must have shown in her face, and Galler’s chin lifted. “It could only hurt everybody, bringing it up now. It should’ve stayed well buried.”
“But now you’re willing to bring it out into the open?” Heikki asked.
“I’m not willing to go to prison for them,” Galler answered. “Not now.”
But you would’ve been, Heikki realized, if they’d asked right, and then none of this would’ve happened. She was suddenly very tired, tired of the whole miserable business and of her own involvement, even of her own anger. Galler was right, nothing good was going to come out of this, even though a part of her wanted to see the proper persons blamed, a measure of justice served, late as it was for that storybook ending. And once again, her brother had left her no choice at all.
She shook herself, and leaned forward to the drinks tray, made herself take her time mixing a stiff drink, pouring the liquors, then adding ice in shapes like seastars. She sipped it thoughtfully, wondering what they could do now. Get off EP4 for a start, she decided, get back to EP7 and Santerese—back to EP7, she corrected herself sternly, where you are a known and respected businessperson, and your word will be worth something against even Tremoth Astrando. My tapes are there, too, and maybe a proper analysis will show us something useful. Galler’s disks might be useful, too, and she leaned forward a little to feel their edges digging into her ribs. She became aware that Galler was watching her with hooded eyes, an expression she remembered from their childhood.
“What I’d like to know,” she said slowly, and saw Galler lean forward fractionally, “is why they kept any record at all.” Galler frowned, and Heikki elaborated. “Records of the crystal pattern, I mean. If Tremoth did cause the disaster, why not destroy everything that could possibly reveal that fact?”
Galler shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the original recorders were afraid that destroying files would tip off the people who’d actually worked on the project, make people remember things.” His mouth twitched again. “In fact, I bet they handled that the way they should’ve handled Lo-Moth, just quietly dropped the project as though it hadn’t worked out.” He leaned forward to pour himself a second drink, and Heikki saw for the first time that his hands were trembling. “What really concerns me right now is what to do next.”
Heikki allowed herself a second of exultation, but kept her face sternly expressionless. “First thing, we need to get off EP4. Tremoth has entirely too much influence here.”
“I’ll agree with that,” Galler muttered.
“I say we go to EP7,” Heikki continued. “I have friends there, and the authorities know me.” Belatedly, she remembered the charges Santerese had mentioned, but suppressed the thought. One thing at a time, she told herself, and went on as though nothing had occurred to her. “Plus we can analyze the wreck tapes there. That will give you a bit more ammunition when you go to the Authority.”
Galler grimaced, but nodded. “They’ll be monitoring ticket sales, you know.”
“Depends on how closely,” Heikki answered.
“Probably very,” Galler muttered, touching keys on his remote, and looked at the chronodisplay that blossomed on the far wall. “It’s too late now—there won’t be enough traffic in the networks to hide me. I’ll test the waters in the morning, all right.”
“All right,” Heikki said. “How secure is this place, anyway?”
Galler grinned. “Nobody from Tremoth is going to come near us.”
Heikki’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”
“The president of Tremoth herself keeps her latest boyfriend in the flat below us. Nobody from the company would dare come around here, just in case they had to notice something.”
Heikki woke to the spattering of a keyboard in the main room. She pushed herself upright in the massive bed—Galler had offered to sleep on the couch, and Heikki had not felt chivalrous enough to insist on accepting that hardship herself—and cocked her head to listen. Sure enough, beneath the steady clicking she could hear the sound of a synthesized voice turned low, and the humming of a portable screen. As promised, Galler was testing the waters, she thought, and swung herself out of bed, reaching for the clothes she had discarded the night before. Shirt and shift were both sadly crumpled; she smoothed the fabric ineffectually for a few minutes before giving up and starting out into the main room.
Galler’s media suite was a miniature console set into the far wall, its controls and screen usually hidden behind a folding screen that matched the kitchen divider. He glanced back at her approach, but did not lift his hands from the keyboard.
“There’s coffee on the hob, and stuff in the cooler.”