I don’t know why it took me off guard. She reminded me that Survey had always been willing to help Rainbow, but “you guys never seem to have enough.” She caught herself. Shook her head. Smiled. “Sorry.”
Next day, she patched through a call from Spike Numitsu. He was speaking from what appeared to be an operations center. “Alex,” he said, “the explosion on the Seeker took place in 2742. Early in the year. We’re going to take a look at the engine room tomorrow. I’ll let you know what we find.”
I relayed it to Alex, who was relaxed in beach clothes with a glass of wine in his hand.
He was on a veranda, and I could see the ocean in the background.
“How about that?” he said, obviously pleased. “Chase, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Twenty-seven forty-two.”
“I’m not following.”
“Do you recall when it happened?” He was talking about the near intersection of the orbits of the dock, the moon, and Margolia. The date of the disaster.
“Yes. It was 2745.”
“Three years after the Seeker died.”
“So what’s your point?”
“Chase, they had at least three years’ warning. Think about that. Three years to save themselves.”
“They tried,” I said. “They rebuilt the Seeker. It didn’t work.”
“You think they’d have given up that easily?”
“ Given up? Come on, Alex. They were in an impossible situation. Once the Seeker exploded they had no interstellar capability. FTL communications didn’t exist. What do you think they might have done?”
“Chase, they had some bright people with them. They had technicians, physicists, engineers. They knew how FTL drives worked.”
“Doesn’t do them any good if they can’t build one.”
“But they had three years.”
“You keep saying that. I don’t see how it matters. It takes a highly advanced industrial base to produce the kind of energy they’d need. You can’t do it out in the woods, no matter how smart your people are.” I’d talked with Harry Williams often enough that the whole thing frustrated me. If these people were so smart, why didn’t they check the neighborhood before they moved out there? And took their kids with them? “No.” Alex shook his head. Something off to the side caught his attention. “I’ve got to go, Chase. But we’re still missing something.”
I forgot to tell him about Bolton’s call.
Less than an hour later, as I was closing up for the day, Bolton was back on the circuit.
“He’s not back yet,” I told him. “Two or three more days.”
“This can’t wait.”
“What’s wrong, Ollie?” He looked so unsettled I forgot my resentment.
“I don’t want to talk over an open circuit. Will you meet me someplace?”
“Come on, Ollie. I’m busy.”
“Please. It’s important.”
I let him see I was unhappy. “When and where?”
“Brockbee’s okay? At eight?”
“Make it seven.”
I keep fresh clothes at the country house, so I didn’t have to bother going home. I showered and changed and even though I didn’t think Ollie could be a physical threat, I slipped a scrambler into my jacket. I took the company skimmer and, just as the sun was touching the horizon, I headed for town.
Brockbee’s is a private club. It’s located behind a high wall, and, because it’s a favorite hangout of political and corporate heavyweights and celebrities of various stripes, security is serious. They queried me on approach. I gave them my name and explained I was meeting Dr. Bolton.
“One moment, please.” I went into a slow circle over the rooftop landing pad. “Very good, Ms. Kolpath. Welcome to Brockbee’s. Please turn control over to us. We’ll bring you in.”
Minutes later I strolled into the dining room. The host informed me Dr. Bolton hadn’t arrived yet, but he showed me to my table. It was precisely seven o’clock.
Twenty minutes later I was still sitting there. A house avatar came by and asked whether I would like something to drink while I waited. Or perhaps an appetizer. “We have some excellent hors d’oeuvres this evening.”
I passed.
At the half hour I debated calling him, but decided the hell with it. On my way out I told the host to give Bolton my compliments if he showed up.
Carmen’s voice woke me out of a sound sleep. “You have a call, Chase. It sounds important.”
My first thought was that it was Bolton.
“Inspector Redfield,” she said.
It was still dark out. What on earth did he want? Then I got a premonition that something had happened to Alex. I grabbed my robe and hurried out into the living room. “Put him on, Carmen.”
He appeared from the front seat of a police cruiser. Looking a bit frazzled. “Chase,” he said. “Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour.”
“It’s okay, Fenn. What is it?”
He made a face. Bad news coming. “Ollie Bolton’s dead,” he said. “Somebody cut a fuel line in his skimmer.”
I needed a moment to digest what he’d said. Bolton dead? It seemed impossible.
“When?” I asked.
“We’re still putting it together. But it looks like a few hours ago. Apparently he lifted off, got up a little bit, and the thing shut down. Crashed on his own property.
Neighbor coming home around midnight saw the wreckage.”
“Okay. You’re sure it was murder?”
“No question.”
“Why’d you call me?”
“His AI says he had a dinner engagement with you last night.”
TWENTY-SIX
In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher Heaven than now.
- Robert Browning,
Pippa Passes, 1841C.E.
The media interviewed Kolchevsky in the morning. “I won’t pretend I was a friend,” he said. “I won’t even pretend the world is not better off with him gone. But I would have preferred that he had seen the error of his ways. I’m sure the police will spare no effort to bring the perpetrator of this heinous act to justice.”
I let Alex know, and he announced he’d break off his vacation, which was in its last day anyhow, and come directly home. “Until we know who did this,” he said, “it’s possible you and I are still in somebody’s sights. Be careful.”
Fenn summoned me to his office. It appeared, he said, the victim had been on his way to meet me when his vehicle went down. “I take it you have no idea what he wanted to tell you?”
“No,” I said. “None whatever.” I’d suspected it might have been an attempt to pry me loose from Alex. But that sounded too much like my ego working overtime. And even if it were true, I could see no way it would help the investigation along.
He asked about Alex’s relations with him. Had the animosity become overt? “No,” I said. “You don’t think Alex had anything to do with this?”
He shook his head. “No. I know him too well to believe anything like that. Still, Alex had reason if anybody did. Where is he, precisely?”
He told me he’d want to talk to Alex as soon as he showed up.
The perpetrator remained hidden as spring passed into summer. We became more cautious than ever. Nobody could get near either the Rainbow skimmer or our personal vehicles without setting off alarms. We both carried weapons all the time, and I learned to keep a close watch on my surroundings. It wasn’t the way I wanted to live. But the weeks passed, and nothing more happened.
Reports continued to come in from the mission. The Exeter reported something new:
They’d found a transparent globe in solar orbit. It was forty-eight meters in diameter.
Inside was a thick layer of frozen earth, and beneath the earth were watering and heating systems.
There was an airlock. And a few trailing cables and power lines.
Spike was baffled. It had been adrift in the middle of nowhere.
“It’s a greenhouse,” said Alex.
I had to admit that was what it sounded like to me, as well. But why? What purpose could it have served?
Alex sent a question: Was the Bremerhaven ’s lander still on board the ship? “What’s that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Patience,” he said. “We have a greenhouse. Now everything depends on the lander.”