Marooned in Realtime

FIFTEEN

The lights came on even before he reached the house. Wil walked into the living room and collapsed in his favorite chair. Two conference bolos were lit: Yelén was on one, Della the other. Neither looked happy. Korolev spoke first. "I want Tammy Robinson out of our time, Inspector."

Wil started to shrug, Why ask me? He glanced at Della Lu, remembered that he was damn close to being arbiter in this dispute. "Why?"

"It should be obvious now. The deal was that we would let her stay in realtime as long as she didn't interfere. Well, it's sure as hell clear someone is backing the NMs-and she's the best suspect."

"But suspect only," said Lu. The spacer's face and costume were a strange contrast. She wore frilly pants and halter, the sort of outfit Wil would have expected at the picnic. Yet he hadn't seen her there. Had she simply peeped, too shy or aloof to show up? Whatever personality matched the outfit, it scarcely fit her expression now. It was cold, determined. "I gave her my word that "

Yelén slapped the table in front of her. "Promises be damned! The survival of the settlement comes first, Lu. YOU of all people should know that. If you won't hobble Robinson, then stand aside and let- —"

Della smiled, and suddenly she seemed a lot deadlier, a lot more determined than Korolev-with all her temper-ever had. "I will not stand aside, Yelén."

"Um." Yelén sat back, perhaps remembering that Della was one of the most heavily armed of the travelers, perhaps thinking of the centuries of combat experience Lu had had with hey weapons. She glanced at Brierson. "Will you talk some sense to her? We've got a life-and-death situation here."

"Maybe. But Tammy is only one suspect-and the one who is most carefully watched. If she was up to something, surely you'd have direct evidence?"

"Not necessarily. I figure I'll need a medium recon capability for at least another century of realtime. I can't afford a 'no-sparrow-shall-fall' network; I'd run out of consumables in a few months. I have kept a close watch on Robinson, but if her family stashed autons before they left, it wouldn't take much for her to communicate with them. All she has to do is give away some trinkets, make these low-techs a bit more dissatisfied. I'll bet she has high-performance bobblers hidden near the Inland Sea. If she can lead her little friends there, we'll be looking at a lot of long-term bobbles-and an end to the plan."

If the Robinsons had prepared their departure that carefully. they were probably responsible for Marta's murder, too. "Hog 'bout a compromise? Take her out of circulation for a few months."

"I promised her, Wil."

"I know. But this would be voluntary. Explain the situation to her. If she's innocent, she'll be as upset by all this as we are A three-month absence won't hurt her announced goals, and will very likely prove her innocent. If it does, then she could have a lot more freedom afterwards."

"What if she doesn't agree?"

"I really think she will, Della." If not, then we'll see if f my integrity can stand up to Yelén as well as yours does.

Yelén said, "I would buy a three-month bobbling-though we may go through this same argument again at the end of it."

"Okay. I'll talk to Tammy." Della looked down at her frilly outfit, and a strange expression crossed her face. Embarrassment? "I'll get back to you." Her image vanished.

Wil looked at the remaining bolo. Yelén was in her library. Sunlight streamed through its fake windows. Night and day must have little meaning to Yelén; that made Wil feel even more tired.

Korolev diddled with something on her desk, then looked back at Wil. "Thanks for the compromise. I was on the verge of doing something... rash."

"You're welcome." He closed his eyes a moment, almost succumbing to stun-induced sleepiness.

"Yes. Now we know our worst fears are true, Inspector. Agrav glowballs. Polka-dot paint. These are completely trivial things compared to what we have already given away. But they are not on the gift inventory. It's just like Phil says. Marta's murderer is not done with us. Someone or something is out there, taking over the low-techs."

"You don't sound so sure the Robinsons are behind it."

"... No, that was partly wishful thinking. They have the clearest motive. Tammy would be the easiest to handle.... No. It could be almost any of the high-techs."

Brierson was too tired to keep his mouth shut. "Do we even know who those are?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the murderer is masquerading as a low-tech? Maybe there's a surviving graverobber."

"That's absurd." But her eyes went wide, and for nearly fifteen seconds she was silent. "Yes, that's absurd," she repeated, with a trace less certainty. "I've got good records on all the rescues; we made most of them. We never saw any unusual equipment. Now, a masquerader might have his high-'tech gear in separate storage, but we'd know if he moved much of it.... I don't know if you can understand, Brierson: We've had total control of their stasis from the beginning. An advanced traveler couldn't tolerate such domination."

"Okay." But he wondered if Lu's reaction would be the same.

"Good. Now I want to get your impression of what you saw today. I watched it all myself, but "

Wil held up a hand. "How about waiting till tomorrow, Yelén? I'll have things sorted out better."

"No." The queen on the mountain wasn't angry, but she was doing to have things her way. "There are things I need to know right now. For instance, what do you think spooked Kim Tioulang?"

"I have no idea. Could you see who he was looking at when he panicked?"

"Into the crowd. I didn't have enough cameras to be more definite. My guess is he had lookouts posted, and one of them signaled that Mr. Bad was in the area."

Mr. Bad. Phil Genet. The connection was instantaneous, needed no supporting logic. "Why make a mystery of it? Give Tioulang some protection and ask him what he has in mind."

"I did. Now he won't talk."

"Surely you have truth drugs. Why not just bring him in and —" Wil stopped, suddenly ashamed. He was talking like some government policeman: "The needs of the State come first." He could rationalize, of course. This was a world without police contracts and legal systems. Till they were established, simple survival might justify such tactics. The argument was slippery, and Wil wondered how far he would slide into savagery before he found solid footing.

Yelén smiled at his embarrassment-whether from sympathy or amusement he could not tell. "I decided not to. Not yet, anyway. The low-techs hate me enough already. And it's just possible Tioulang might suicide under questioning. Some of the twentieth-century governments put pretty good psychblocks in their people. If the Peacers inherited that filthy habit... Besides, he may not know any more than we do: Someone is backing the NM faction."

Wil remembered Tioulang's sudden panic; the man feared someone in particular. "You have him protected?"

"Yes. Almost as well as you, though he doesn't know it. For the time being I won't risk snatching him."

"You want to know my favorite candidate for villain? Phil Genet."

Yelén leaned forward. "Why?"

"He showed up just a few minutes after Tioulang took off. The man reeks of evil."

"'Reeks of evil'? That's a professional opinion, is it?"

Wil rubbed his eyes. "Hey, you wanted to get my 'impressions,' remember?" But she was right; he wouldn't have put it that way if he'd been thinking straight.

"Phil's a sadist. I've known that for years. And I think he's worse now that we've got all the low-techs out of stasis — you little guys are such easy victims. I saw how he worked you over about Lindemann. I'm sorry about stunning you, Wil, but 1 can't tolerate any of the old grudges."

Wil nodded, faintly surprised. There was something near sympathy in her voice. In fact, he was grateful she had stunned him down. "Genet is capable of murder, Yelén."

"Lots of people are. What would you have done to Lindemann if... ? Look, neither of us likes Phil. That by itself is no big deal; I don't especially like you, and yet we get along. It's a matter of common interest. He helped Marta and me a lot. I doubt if we could have rescued the Peacers without his construction equipment. He's more than proved he wants the settlement to succeed."

"Maybe. But now that everyone has been brought together, perhaps your 'common interest' is dead. Maybe he wants to run. the whole show."

"Hmm. He knows none of us have a chance if we start shooting. You think he's really crazy?"

"I don't know, Yelén. Look at the recording again. I had the feeling he wasn't taunting just me. He knew you'd be listening. I think he was laughing at you, too. Like he was on the verge of some triumph, something the sadist in him couldn't resist hinting at."

"So you think he set up the glowball-and was laughing at us all the time he was 'clueing you in.' " She pursed her lips. "It doesn't make sense... but I guess I'm paying for your intuition as much as anything else. I'll break a few more autons out of stasis, try to keep better tabs on Phil."

She sat back, and for a moment Wil thought she might be done with him. "Okay. I want to go over your other conversations." She noticed his expression. "Look, Inspector. I didn't ask you to socialize for your health. You're my low-tech point of vie". We've got a murder here, incipient civil war, and everybody's general dislike for me. Just about everything A saw today has a connection with these things. I want you reactions while they're fresh."

So they reviewed the picnic. Literally. Yelén insisted o, playing much of the video. She really did need help. Whether it was the centuries of living apart or her high-tech viewpoint , Wil didn't know, but there were many things about the picnic she didn't understand. She had no sympathy for the women dilemma. The first time they viewed the women's meeting, she made an obscure comment about "people having to pay for other people's mistakes." Was she referring to the Korolev failure to bring womb tanks?

Wil had her play the scene again, and he tried to explain Finally she became a little angry. "Sure they've got to make sacrifices. But don't they realize it's the survival of the human race that's at stake?" She waved her hand. "I can't believe their nature is that different from earlier centuries. When the crunch comes, they'll do what they must." Would the queen

on the mountain also do her female duty? Would she have six kids-or twelve? Brierson didn't voice the question. He could do without a Korolev explosion.

The sunlight streaming through Yelén's windows slowly shifted from morning to afternoon. The clock on Wil's data set showed it was way past the Witching Hour. If they kept going he'd be seeing real sunlight, through his own windows. Finally the analysis wound back to Wil's conversation with Jason Mudge. Korolev stopped him. "You can take Mudge off your list of suspects, Inspector."

Wil had been about to say the same. He simulated curiosity -Why?"

"The jerk fell off the cliffs last night, right on his point head."

Brierson lurched to wakefulness. "You mean, he's dead?

"Dead beyond all possible resuscitation, Inspector. For a his God-mongering, he was no teetotaler. The autopsy showed blood alcohol at 0.22 percent. He left the party a little befog you ran into Lindemann. Apparently he couldn't find anyone who'd even pretend to listen. The last I saw he was weaving along the westward bluffs. He got about fifteen hundred meters down the path, must have slipped where it comes near the cliff edge. One of my routine patrols found the body just after you got back here. He'd been in the water a couple of hours."

He rested his chin in his palms and slowly shook his head.

Yelén. Yelén. We've talked all through the night, and all that time your autons have been investigating and dissecting... and never a word that a man has died. "I asked you to keep an eye on him.

"Well, I decided not to. He just wasn't that important." Korolev was silent a moment. Something of his attitude must have penetrated. "Look, Brierson, I'm not happy he died. Eventually he might have dropped that 'Third Coming' garbage and been of some use. But face it: The man was a parasite, and having him out of the way is one less suspect-however farfetched."

"Okay, Yelén. It's okay."

He should have guessed the effect of his assurance. Yelén leaned forward. "Are you really that paranoid, Brierson? Do you think Mudge was murdered, too?"

Maybe. What might Mudge know that could make it worth silencing him? He owned little high-tech equipment, yet he did know systems. Maybe he'd been the murderer's pet vandal, now deemed a liability. Wil tried to remember what they had talked about, but all that came was the little guy's intent expression. Of course, Yelén would be willing to play the conversation back. Again and again. It was the last thing he wanted now. "Let our paranoias go their separate ways, Yelén. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."

For whatever reason, Korolev didn't push him. Fifteen minutes later she was off the comm.

Wil straggled up to his bedroom, relieved and disappointed to be alone at last.