Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [143]
“In a couple of weeks.”
“That’ll be the third one.”
“Yes.”
“It’s the one that will establish the timing sequence. Identical intervals between events.”
“That’s correct.”
“It’s what indicates the events are triggered.”
“Right.”
“Cancel it.”
“Cancel it?” Matt looked shattered. “We can’t do that.”
“I don’t think the Council would agree, under the circumstances, that advertising our presence is a good idea.”
“But, Canon, light from the novas won’t reach Alnitak for a thousand years.”
“Matt.” The room grew intense. “There’ll be a court order in a few days suspending the operation for environmental reasons. It’ll only say ‘suspension.’ But you won’t want to plan on any more of these explosions.”
Matt looked over at Kim and she could see he was assigning the blame to her.
“Something else you should know, Canon,” Kim said. “The creature that was on the ship—”
“Yes?”
“There’s another one, or something very much like it, in the Severin Valley.”
His brow creased. “The Severin Phantom?”
“Yes.” She saw him glance at Matt. Too many wild stories for one day.
“We’ll look into it,” he said.
“Canon,” she asked, “this didn’t happen before, did it? A cover-up?”
He stroked his beard, apparently puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
“Oh,” he said. “The Hunter. No. Not that I know of.” He must have read the skepticism in her face. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Kim.”
“Okay,” she said.
He paused in the doorway. “I’m glad to see you’re all right. And I’m sorry about Solly.”
At home, Shepard greeted her with enthusiasm. He was glad to see her again after all this time. He’d been worried, he said, about reports of her misadventure. And he was dreadfully sorry about Solly, whom he’d liked.
Messages were waiting.
Most were from friends and relatives, some with advice, others saying they were glad to hear she wasn’t a thief after all. The Institute had already released its statement, explaining that the entire Hammersmith affair had been a misunderstanding. There were a few lawyers who thought she should sue somebody, usually the Institute for operating a vessel with unsafe engines, or for defamation of character. Sheyel expressed his concern, saying that he assumed the incident was connected with the Hunter, that he’d been surprised and gratified that she would go to such extraordinary lengths. He was, he added, anxious to hear what she had learned.
The cause of Emily’s death, the authorities announced, had been massive abdominal and chest wounds. Possibly inflicted by a particle beam or a laser. Rumors of scandal swirled: There’d been a lovers’ quarrel and she’d been thrust out the air lock; Kane and Tripley had been in collusion and had murdered the two women, probably because they refused to cooperate in some sort of bizarre sexual ritual; Life on board the Hunter had been orgiastic in nature and the murder had occurred after a wild night of debauchery; Tripley and Kane had been homosexuals who’d wearied of trying to deal with the constant demands of the women, had killed one, and let it serve as a lesson to the other. Authorities promised a full investigation. Meantime, both men’s reputations were demolished. And Kim was sorry for that.
So was Ben Tripley, who had been thrown on the defensive by the blizzard of charges that rained down on him. Tora Kane issued a terse statement denying that her father would ever deliberately have harmed anyone. Next day an editorialist commented dryly that any number of Pacifica’s defenders had died at his hands during the late war.
The official story moved Emily’s death several hundred light-years, well away from Alnitak, so as not to rouse any interest in that area.
Kim still had no idea how or why either of the women had died. She felt responsible for the charges being laid