Still, he’d forgotten how much he missed Tonga, how very many memories he had tied up here. The noisy palace, the quiet beaches, the secret harbors of Eua accessible only by catamaran… He’d come to Tamra’s court at the age of thirty, and remained for thirty years more, fighting always for the time to seclude himself, to lock these sultry islands away behind white laboratory walls and work. The arc de fin, the arc definl But now he’d been away and alone for nearly as long, his life neatly trisected by this residence and birthplace and ancestral capital of Queen Tamra Lutui.
He moved his chair closer to hers, and would have reached for her hand if they’d been anything like alone together. As it was, there were seven people in the room here, and dozens more visible in the rooms nearby, and hundreds or thousands of news cameras swarming like thirsty mosquitoes at the cordon line, three hundred meters out. But Tamra seemed to sense his thoughts, and nodded sidelong at him: Yes, Philander, I remember it too.
Vivian set down her wellstone slate and rubbed her eyes with her thumbs in a very unchildlike gesture. “I need more information. This isn’t falling into place for me. You, Sergeant.” she said, singling out one of the uniformed officers standing guard. “Find me Cheng Shiao, with a reconstruction of the attack on Sykes’ house. No excuses—I want whatever he’s got. And bring me a soda, also.”
“Yes’m. Right away.”
To Bruno, for some reason, she said, “It’s like something I’ve learned in school but mostly forgotten.”
“Mademoiselle?” Bruno said, in a tone meant to convey incomprehension.
“My life. My job. I feel as if I know them until it’s time to do something, and then I’m never sure what. I keep expecting people to laugh, to say I’m doing it all wrong.”
Bruno felt a little smile plant itself on him. “I’ve often felt that way myself, mademoiselle. It’s more normal than you might suppose. I do think you’re being too bossy, though. You might tone that down a notch.”
“My name is Vivian, sir.”
“Ah. Well. I shall call you that in the future, and if you like, you may call me Bruno. Understand, I’ve never met a person in your… circumstances before. We’re making up the protocol as we go along, both of us.”
“Hmm.” She considered that answer, or perhaps the smile behind it, and finally seemed to find it good.
“You’re doing a splendid job,” Tamra added sincerely. “Believe me, I’d remove you if you weren’t. The Queendom deserves no less.”
“Hmm.” After a moment’s reflection, Vivian seemed to like that answer even better.
They all fell silent. The hum of ventilators and lighting seemed, somehow, to match the rolling and crashing of the ocean, too distant to be audible behind the wellstone glass of the windows.
Half a minute later, Cheng Shiao strode into the office, a glass of dark, fizzing soda in his hand. He set it down in front of Vivian, then stood at attention. “Cola Five-Two, no ice. Regrettably, I’m unavailable with the full reconstruction at this time, as my cruiser is presently docking with the remains of Sykes Manor. Only the gross reconstruction, based on our last radar assay, is available yet. I’ve taken the liberty of uploading it to your pads.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Will you walk us through it?”
“A pleasure, Commandant-Inspector, though I’m afraid there isn’t much to it.” Images appeared on all the little pads, and on a backlit holographic rectangle that appeared in the center of the table’s smooth surface, like a glass window looking down on outer space, on the golden-white sphere of Marlon’s house spinning silently against the starscape, lit mainly by floodlights but with a sliver of bright sunlight illuminating one side. “A directed energy stream approximately six meters wide strikes the house in a single pulse at fourteen hours fifty-two minutes, penetrating here and exiting here. Although the structure remains largely intact, atmospheric containment fails immediately—note the venting gases—and power distribution fails within seconds.”
The little house shot gouts of debris and glittering crystals of frozen air from a pair of circular openings that appeared in it. The mangled Athenian structures within showed clearly.
“Power distribution failed?” Marlon asked angrily. “There’s wellstone all through that house—more than enough redundancy to keep it alive.”
“Yes sir. Apparently it was the embedded computing structures themselves that failed.”
“Secondary radiation?” Bruno speculated. “A shower of charged particles released by the sudden energy flux?”
“Possibly, sir.”
“What sort of beam was it?”
“Unknown, sir.”
“Hmm.” Bruno pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger, as was his habit when attempting to concentrate. “I don’t suppose you have the precise time of impact? Coupled with the rotation rate of the house, that could be used to trace the beam back to its source.”
“We have timeline only to the half minute, sir, based on long-range radar tracks of the larger debris. I expect to refine that figure through proximity scan and direct assay of the impact site.”
“This is police business,” Vivian noted impatiently. “Shiao does know what he’s doing.”
“Please,” Tamra said, holding up a hand in what was either a scolding or a beseeching gesture, or perhaps both. “The Royal Committee for Investigation of Ring Collapsiter Anomalies does share jurisdiction here. Their investigation precedes yours, in fact precedes the murder itself, and I daresay their business is the more urgent. You’re to provide de Towaji with anything he asks.”
“Oh,” Vivian said, with surprising equanimity. “Okay.”
Bruno, who hadn’t realized he was a member of any sort of official committee, said, with some embarrassment, “Er, what’s the soonest you could get us a full reconstruction?”
Shiao shrugged. “Unknown, sir. Since the investigating cruiser is some seven light-minutes distant, I haven’t communicated with myself directly. For a precise figure, you’d have to ask me there yourself, in person.”
“Ah. An excellent suggestion. Your cruiser is fully equipped? Can I fax myself there?”
Shiao looked alarmed. “Well, um, technically yes, sir, but in actuality I was attempting a joke. You’d need to be certified for shipboard operations. Have you even had any spacesuit training?”
Bruno laughed. “Breathe in, breathe out, and keep your boot grapples engaged? I’ve seen it in the movies.”
“Sir, emergency procedures alone require eight weeks of intensive immersion. I’m afraid I can’t authorize—”
“You can authorize it,” Her Majesty said firmly. “Was I unclear about this? De Towaji is operating under full royal dispensation, and shall have whatever resources he requires. His safety is my responsibility, not yours.”
Nervously, Shiao pressed. “Sir, have you ever even worn a spacesuit?”