Asgard's Secret

10

I didn’t get a commission. I didn’t even get a uniform. Star-Captain Susarma Lear tucked my as-yet-unsigned conscription papers away in her trousers and led the way out of the Hall of Justice into the plaza. Basic training lasted about half a minute, and consisted of her pointing to one of her merry men and saying: “That’s Lieutenant Crucero. He’s second-in-command. Anything he orders you to do, you do. If you’ve got any questions, he or Seme will be happy to answer them, but not now. For now, I’ll ask the questions. Number one: how much do you know about the android?”

“What android?”

“The big one. Goes under the name Myrlin. Currently in possession of your vehicle.”

“He’s not human?” I queried weakly.

“He’s an android,” she said. “Now cut the crap and tell me what you know about him.”

I deducted a few points from her moral credit, but it still seemed very healthy.

“I’ve never even seen him,” I told her. “I talked to him on the phone, briefly, when he first came down the chain. Immigration wanted me to take him in. I suggested they ask Saul Lyndrach. I was grumpy because I’d just been woken up. When I went to see Saul to apologise, his doorman directed me into a trap. A Spirellan named Heleb, who works for a vormyran named Amara Guur, stitched me up for killing a Sleath. Heleb murdered the Sleath himself, because his boss wants my help—my expert help. Saul had contacted the C.R.E. asking for funding, because he’d found a way down into the lower levels. My guess is that Guur went after him to find out what he’d got, but something went wrong, and now Myrlin has it. He also has my truck, which some stupid Tetron AI passed out of lock five without a murmur of protest, presumably on the feeble grounds that the truck hadn’t been reported stolen and Myrlin wasn’t officially registered as a wanted man. Slight concern, I think 74-Scarion said, but no formal investigation. Merde! He’ll never get into my cold-suit if he’s as big as they say he is. That’s it. Where are we going?”

We’d paused outside the entrance to the Hall of Justice while I filled her in on the basics. We were attracting attention from the passers-by, not so much because of the black uniforms as the sidearms Alex Sovorov had called flame-pistols.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You tell me.”

“Up the Skychain to your ship?” I suggested. “I’m not sure how safe we are down here, after the way Jacinthe Siani looked at me before she left.”

“We’re not leaving the surface until we catch up with the android,” she said. “You’re the local expert—it’s your job to lead me to him. As quickly as humanly possible. Starting now.”

“I can’t,” I said. “He’s out in the cold—and my truck’s out there with him.”

“In that case,” she said, “we’ll have to acquire another truck. Or two. Can’t doesn’t cut it in the Star Force, Russell. From now on, you’re a can do kind of guy.”

The euphoria of having been let off Amara Guur’s hook was still canceling out any bad feelings such rude treatment would normally have evoked.

“We could just wait till he comes back,” I suggested reasonably.

“And suppose he doesn’t?”

“In that case, you could stop worrying about him, couldn’t you?” I said, lightly.

Her blue eyes went steely again. Obviously, I hadn’t quite mastered the niceties of military discipline and protocol.

“We need to get off the street,” I told her. “You might not be a walking target, but I probably am. If Amara Guur couldn’t get me, he won’t want you to have me.”

Her bleak eyes bored into the nooks and crannies of my soul. It was more than just an act. I realised that she was strung out as taut as a piano wire. The war might be officially over, but she hadn’t stopped fighting. She obviously hadn’t even paused in her fighting for a long time. “Trooper Russell,” she said, “you’re in the Star Force now—don’t make me remind you again. Anyone who takes a shot at you takes a shot at all of us, and will be answered in kind. You seem to have enemies, but that’s nothing unusual to us. We’ve been on our present tour of duty for nineteen months, Earth time, and we have spent that entire time fighting enemies who had the resources of whole worlds to draw upon. We have nothing to fear from the petty criminals of this ridiculous backwater.”

“I understand that, Star-Captain Lear,” I said soothingly, “but Amara Guur might not.” I looked around for Aleksandr Sovorov, but he was nowhere to be seen. He obviously figured that he’d done his bit for the genocidal maniacs of his homeworld, and was free to resume his quiet and orderly life.

“Where can I get in touch with the local law-enforcement agency, Russell?” the star-captain said—which was a curious coincidence, because as she spoke the words my eye was caught by three Tetron peace-officers, who were making their way along the road-strip towards us with an ominously purposeful stride. Ordinarily, that would not have been a sight that caused me any anxiety, but these were not ordinary times—and they were looking right at me. I smiled at them; I still felt full of benevolence towards fate and fortune.

When I didn’t answer her question, Susarma Lear looked over her shoulder, following my gaze. She smiled too, but the peace-officers ignored her as they leapt from the slow-moving strip on to solid ground.

“Are you Michael Rousseau, sir?” the spokesman said to me.

“Whatever it is,” I said, “I didn’t do it. I just this minute got out of jail.”

“You are not under suspicion of having committed any crime, sir,” the Tetron informed me, dutifully. “However, we are investigating a multiple murder, and your name has been recently linked with several of the deceased persons. This necessitates my asking you some questions. It will not be necessary for you to accompany us to our offices, provided that you have no objection to our recording your answers here.”

The star-captain was giving me a rather peculiar look, as if she were wondering whether she’d accidentally conscripted Jack the Ripper.

“Who’s dead this time?” I asked.

“Seven people have been killed,” the policeman told me. “Three are vormyr, one is a Spirellan, one a human and two are Zabarans. Three of the persons gave evidence at your recent trial, testifying that you murdered Mr. Atmanu in their presence.”

It didn’t take a mathematical genius to work out who one of the victims must be. “Balidar’s been murdered?” I said, weakly. “Heleb too?” I added, optimistically.

“Simeon Balidar is the dead human,” the peace-officer confirmed. “The Spirellan named Lema also testified at your trial, as did the Zabaran Shian Mor.”

I was disappointed to hear that Heleb wasn’t numbered among the dead, but I felt free to hope that he might be grief-stricken about his little brother. “I was in jail,” I repeated. “My every word has been monitored for the last five days. You know that I couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”

“I have already confirmed that you are not under suspicion,” the Tetron reminded me, frowning as only a Tetron can frown. “All I need to know is whether you know anything that would cast light on the motive for the crime. Since you had nothing to do with it, you might perhaps be able to tell us whether anyone else had a motive.”

“Right,” I said. “As it happens, I do. The dead men were participants in a conspiracy to frame me for the murder of the Sleath, Atmanu. The conspiracy has just gone awry, so the person who hired them is probably trying to clear up the evidence of his crime. His name is Amara Guur. He’s not one of the dead vormyr, I presume?”

The peace-officer didn’t seem too happy about the content of my statement, but he recorded it meekly. “Amara Guur is not among the deceased,” he confirmed.

“Pity,” I said. “He’s your man, then. He’s already been responsible for one murder that I know of. I have no doubt at all that he’s also responsible for these. I suggest that you arrest him immediately.”

“Do you have any evidence to support what you say, sir?” the peace-officer asked, dutifully.

“Absolutely,” I said. “The best evidence there is. I know that I didn’t murder the Sleath, and that all the witnesses at my trial committed perjury in order to force me to sign a contract drawn up by Amara Guur. You should arrest a woman named Jacinthe Siani as well as Guur—she’s a Kythnan. If you put your minds to it, you’ll have the entire puzzle unraveled by nightfall.”

The star-captain obviously wanted to get a move on. “Have you finished with this man?” she asked. “If not, you’ll have to deal with me. He’s a trooper in the Earth Star Force, and I’m his commanding officer. As it happens, I was hoping to talk to your commanding officer. I need your help to ascertain the whereabouts of a stolen vehicle and apprehend the thief. It’s a matter of some urgency.”

“I fear that I am presently engaged in a murder enquiry,” the Tetron replied. “If you care to call at our headquarters, one of our officers will record your complaint and will doubtless do his best to assist you. The central police station on the far side of the plaza.” He turned and pointed.

“Crucero,” the star-captain said to her lieutenant. “Get over there and see what you can do to get some action out of these jumped-up monkeys.”

I winced. All three peace-officers were Tetrax—perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not—and they were standing close enough to hear what she’d said. Even though she’d said it in English, they had it on tape. When they played it back, they’d be sure to have it translated—and they wouldn’t like it one little bit.

I waited until they’d jumped back on the strip and had been carried away before saying, “You might want to be careful about remarks like that, Captain. The Tetrax can be touchy. They never show it, but rumour has it that they hold grudges for a long time.”

“They’ll help us,” she assured me. “Their friends on the satellite are very interested in my cargo.”

“The spoils of Salamandra?” I said. “Why would they be interested in loot picked up from the devastated homeworld of some barbarian species from way along the rim?”

Her eyes were pure Medusa. “I’m asking the questions, Russell,” she reminded me. “You’re wasting time. How do we get started chasing that android?”

“If you really want to make a move,” I said, “we should probably start at my place. That’s where he got the keys to my lock-up, and the truck. Perhaps he left a note to apologise—maybe even to explain. At any rate, I’d like to find out what else he stole. Also, I’m hungry—and I think your men might be hungry too.”

“I’ll worry about my men,” she said. “They’re soldiers. But you’re right. If that’s where the trail starts, we should check it out. By the way, you were lying to the peace-officers, weren’t you? You don’t have the least idea who killed all those people.”

“Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea who killed them,” I said. “But yes, I was lying—I can’t believe that Amara Guur slaughtered seven of his own people. What I can believe is that he’ll be even madder when Jacinthe Siani tells him the bad news about me than he was when he found out that someone else had started gunning down his henchmen. It would be nice to think that the peace-officers might take him in for questioning, although they’re probably a bit too scrupulous about matters of evidence to do it on my say-so. Shall we go?”

Her Medusa stare was mingled with curiosity. She didn’t know quite what to make of me. She didn’t seem to approve of me, but wasn’t quite ready to say so—yet.

Crucero had taken three men with him to the police station. It took twenty minutes for the remaining four of us to get back to my place, but the interval passed without any discernible assassination attempts. My room was locked, and showed no signs of having been broken into, but I opened the door very cautiously, just in case there was anyone inside who shouldn’t have been there. There was.

He was lying on my bed, but he didn’t get up to greet me. He couldn’t, because he was very obviously dead. It was Saul Lyndrach.