Starfire

35

From the private diary of Oliver Guest.

The RV jacket worn by Seth Parsigian was less than totally satisfying. It provided clear visual and auditory signals, but for me, attuned as I am to olfactory and tactile stimuli, Sky City remained no more than a hollow shadow of reality. Attempts to draw supplementary information from Seth proved a waste of time.

“Smells of what?’ I said.

“I dunno.” Seth paused in the empty corridor and sniffed loudly. “I told you, it stinks like something’s been burnin’. Feathers, mebbe?”

“Feathers! You’re up in space, and you smell burning feathers?”

“Well, you were the one who asked. Don’t worry; it’s usually that way on this level.”

We were approaching Cargo Bay Fourteen. Clearly, Seth knew the area well, while to me much of the region was terra incognita. I was aware of his distaste for wearing the RV jacket, so it was no surprise to learn that some of his Sky City roaming with Maddy Wheat-stone had been done without my vicarious participation.

At the entrance to the cargo bay, Seth paused.

“Where do you want it?”

It referred to the bundle, swathed in white cloth, that he carried under one arm. Even from as close as a few feet away it bore a plausible resemblance to the body of a human.

I paused before I answered. We had been forced to settle for whatever John Hyslop could make available, and this air-filled cargo bay, up in the low-gravity region close to the central axis, was larger than I had anticipated. In addition to a chamber big enough to house an entire shuttle, the sides of the cylindrical void were honeycombed with separate storage cupboards and racks. At the end farthest from where Seth floated with his burden, a web of guys and thin ropes provided convenient attachment points for larger items. The walls of the chamber were painted a mustard yellow, which glistened stickily in the spotlight that Seth shone on them.

I regarded the whole cargo bay with distaste. It was not an appropriate resting place for a murdered girl. On the other hand, it would surely never be one. “Suppose that Doris Wu’s body really had been found and brought here by a shuttle,” I said. “Where would it have been placed?”

“In one of the cupboards, mebbe?” Seth moved forward and opened one. “Like this.”

“No.” I could see inside, and the RV jacket’s enhanced optics gave me a clearer view than Seth. “It’s dusty. No one would risk contamination before security had done their inspection for evidence, and that won’t happen until the particle storm is over.”

“Then it has to be put somewhere over there.” Seth turned, so that I again had a view of the far end of the chamber. “Looks like the cleaning machines work the main chamber, but not the cupboards. Hang it on one of the support points, an’ it won’t be disturbed.”

“Then let us proceed.” In spite of the fact that at least an hour would elapse before anything could be expected to happen, I was filled with a disquieting sense of urgency. Patience has its limits. This promised to be the culmination of more than a month of frustrating inaction, and I could hardly wait.

Seth carefully suspended the cloth-wrapped figure between two of the web nodes, then moved back to admire his work. “That do?”

“It will be fine.” I wanted to head at once into hiding, but now it was Seth who displayed the caution and attention to detail that should have been mine.

“Hold on a minute,” he said. “Better make sure you can see it easy from every way in.”

He was right, of course. I restrained my impatience as he went slowly and carefully to each entry point of the cargo bay, moved outside, and then came in again. We agreed, the white figure would catch the eye at once no matter where a person chose to enter the chamber.

“So now let us make sure we are not equally visible,” I said. “I suggest the storage cupboard over on the extreme right, where the light is dim.”

“In a minute.” Seth pulled a high-intensity beam weapon from his belt and subjected it to a thorough, and to my eye excessively lengthy, inspection.

“I thought we agreed that we do not anticipate violence,” I said.

“Mebbe we did, an’ mebbe you don’t.” Seth completed the leisurely review to his own satisfaction before slipping the weapon back into its holder. “I been shot at too many times to take the chance. It ain’t your ass on the line if things go bad. If it don’t work out right, you’ll be laughin’ an’ scratchin’ back in Ireland with your feet up, while I’m up here pullin’ arrows out of my tuckus.”

It was compelling and undeniable logic. I waited quietly while Seth, muttering complaints, established himself within the storage cupboard. Then it was my turn to object.

“If I am to play any useful part at all in this proceeding,” I said, “it is essential that I see what is happening. My entire view of Sky City is at the moment limited to the two square feet of storage locker visible from the RV jacket.”

“It has to be like that if you want me stuffed inside this cupboard.”

“Then let me make an alternative suggestion. Whatever happens next will take place within this chamber. Remove the jacket and hang it in the darkest corner. I will be able to see, and I can offer my comments to you through your earpiece.”

“I thought you wanted me hidden out of the way ASAP.” But Seth climbed out of the cupboard, irritatingly slowly, and removed the jacket. For a few seconds my view was a collage of rotating snapshots of parts of the cargo bay, overlain on the ghostly background of my own study in Otranto Castle. When it steadied I could see the whole chamber spread out before me. Seth, ten meters away, was sauntering back to his hideout in the cupboard. I noticed that in addition to the beam weapon he had an older projectile weapon in a rear holster. The folly of using high-speed bullets in an environment where momentum transfer was a major question and vacuum lay outside most walls was beyond dispute. On the other hand, as Seth had so succinctly pointed out, my ass was not on the line. The danger was all his.

Finally we were in position, and probably an hour early. Now there was nothing we could do but wait. And speculate.

What would happen here in the cargo bay? What would happen in the rest of Sky City as the particle bundles flooded in from space with ever-increasing numbers? And what would happen down on Earth, where my corporeal body resided?

Cargo Bay Fourteen was almost empty, but as the minutes slipped by it was far from silent. First there was an eerie creaking from the walls, evidence that some part of the structure of Sky City was under unusual stress. Then I heard a loud ping a few yards away, followed by a hissing sound that quickly faded. At the extreme edge of the RV jacket’s field of view I saw the hole left by the particle bundle. There had to be another one somewhere at the other side of the chamber. I searched carefully, and at maximum magnification I thought I could just make out a dark dot on the far wall.

“Looks like a few are gettin’ through,” Seth said calmly.

“Yes. I gather that is inevitable. Do you want to be in a suit?” Six of the dark spacesuits hung on an open rack midway between Seth and the RV jacket.

“Not worth it. The sealers can handle anythin’small. Anythin’ big comes along, a suit won’t be no help.” He paused, then added, ” ’Course, it won’t be too good if this place gets fulla little holes from the small stuff.”

There we have a typical Parsigian understatement. If Sky City were riddled by particle bundles, it would mean that the defensive system had failed. Seth, and eventually the whole of Earth, would probably die.

I waited and listened, gradually relaxing as no more noises of bundle impact sounded through the chamber. However, before I could be in any sense at ease, something else snapped me to full attention.

It came not via the RV helmet, but from within Otranto Castle. Not far from where I was sitting I heard a girl cry out.

I stood up at once and switched the helmet to local viewing. It was early afternoon, and sunny, and my study sprang into view in full color. I indulged in one rapid glance out of the window-no sign of any particle storm effects-then ran toward the kitchen.

As I suspected, a girl-no, three girls, Katherine, Charity, and Victoria-were there. Two of the tall kitchen cupboards stood open, heavy doors of dark oak thrown wide. The girls were rooting around inside. The cry that I had heard, I now realized, was Charity’s high-pitched and poorly suppressed snort of laughter.

I was in my stocking feet, and I made no sound even on the hard floor of gray slate. The girls remained unaware of my presence until I cried, “What the devil do you think you are doing?” They turned, and I went on, “I told you, the Alpha Centauri particle storm reaches its peak today. And you all promised that you would remain in the deepest cellars until I told you it was safe to come out. Why didn’t you keep your word?”

“We did.” Little Victoria, smallest of all my darlings, looked up at me with blue eyes filled with guilt. I saw that she was clutching an armful of jars and boxes. “We just came up for a minute. We were going straight back.”

“Why did you come up at all?” But I had already guessed the answer.

“For these,” Katherine said. She, like Victoria and Charity, was carrying a load of provisions. She held them out toward me. “We’re having a storm party. But there was nothing good to eat and drink.”

“Get back down there.” I turned away. “I don’t want anyone else up here, for any reason at all, until I come down and tell you that the storm is over.”

It is not clear to me whether the insouciance of youth will be the doom of humanity or its salvation. I prefer to think the latter, but I have my doubts. I made my way back to the study, returning the helmet to remote viewing as I did so.

“Wanna tell me what all that was about?” Seth asked, and I realized that in my haste I had not switched the sound to local mode. He had heard every word that I said.

“It was nothing. Merely the girls organizing a party. What has been happening there?”

“Not a thing. Wish they’d organize a party for me; this place is as boring as it gets.”

Perhaps. But I heard a soft hissing, steadily becoming fainter.

I said, “There has been another particle bundle penetration.”

“Well, yeah, we did have that. But you’d hardly call it much of a party.”

As Seth was speaking, his voice, already low, dropped to a whisper. He put a finger to his lips and pulled back farther into the shadow of the cupboard.

“What is it?” Speaking at this volume I was sure that only he could hear me.

“We got visitors. Better be ready.”

There was a sound of footsteps from beyond the other end of the chamber. A second later a gray-clad figure zoomed into the room, used the web of ropes to change direction, and just as rapidly shot away through an exit on the opposite side. It was a man. He passed within ten feet of the shrouded white figure and did not seem even to notice it.

“Tech services, in a hurry,” Seth said. “Using the cargo hold as a shortcut. Must be trouble someplace close.”

“Not, one hopes, too close.” It had seemed like a splendid idea, arranging our trap at a time when everyone on Sky City would be desperately busy with his or her own duties; unless, of course, the focus of those duties happened by accident to lie in the very place where the trap was set, and we became inundated with visitors. On such chance events, I suspect, rests many a man’s reputation for cunning or folly.

The cargo bay again became quiet except for the unnerving groan of walls and supports and the occasional crack and hiss of a particle bundle. I switched briefly from remote viewing in order to catch a glimpse of local conditions at Otranto Castle. The sky outside the castle was darker now. The clock on my study indicated that the peak of the particle storm lay only forty minutes in the future. If anything were to happen, on Earth or in Cargo Bay Fourteen, this was surely the time.

I returned to Sky City and realized at once that the situation had changed. In the few moments of my absence a dark-clad figure had appeared at one of the entrances to the cargo bay. It stood there, silent and immobile, apparently examining every detail of the interior of the chamber. The face was shadowed and in half profile, and I could make out no features. Finally the figure moved forward and upward, heading for the white shroud suspended from the rope nets.

“Now, Seth,” I whispered. “This is it.”

He nodded. I saw him ease the beam weapon from his belt, and then he was gliding across the room toward the newcomer. He uttered no sound, but as he turned to glance at me I could read his lips. They mouthed, “Party time.”