Between the Stars (8 page)

So, that was where the real work on the Rhea Object was going on. It was probably where he'd find Sieglinde as well. "Let me buy you another." He saw a tall, thin man enter, silver hair and Roman profile unmistakable from a thousand holo broadcasts. "Hey, isn't that Professor Schmidt-Fong?"

Gorshin glanced idly at the man. "That's him. All the big ones are here—Matsunaga, Gordon, Moreau-Goldstein, Yau, you name em. Physicists and chemists, mostly, but the top ones in almost every field're here."

"What about that woman who was so big in the last war who's supposed to have been the one that perfected the antimatter drive? Cornfield or something?"

"Sieglinde Kornfeld-Taggart." Gorshin shook his head. "She hasn't showed up that I've heard. Way I hear it, she's not on real good terms with the ones that run this place."

So even here her presence was being kept secret. He spent another hour in general conversation, wanting to gain a reputation as a friendly, generous sort. Surly loners were always regarded with suspicion. He had been given a directory upon in-processing, and when Gorshin left for his next shift Vladyka consulted it to find an information center.

The facility he found was built like a miniature amphitheater, with ascending rows of stands surrounding a fairly large holo tank. The place was intended for visitors and new arrivals, to give them some degree of orientation in a habitat that was unlike any other.

The room dimmed and a brief history lesson began, detailing Aeaea's beginnings as a moon-orbiting station owned by a handful of entrepreneuring scientists and engineers, its early successes and expansions, its eventual removal to the Belt. A series of cutaways revealed how the structure had grown, from the original cylinder of mooncrete, through the metal and ultraglass additions of the next half-century, then the huge expansion during the war, when Aeaea had been contracted to develop Ugo Ciano's antimatter drive engine. More labs and living quarters had been added over the subsequent years, but the presentation ended with the status quo as of several months previously. After that, the display was open for individual queries.

As Vladyka had suspected, the area Gorshin had called the Third Quadrant had been skirted in the presentation. He queried the display about it in a general way, so as not to arouse suspicion in any eavesdropping, but he learned little. The name itself was obsolescent, referring to a section of the original mooncrete structure. First, Second and Fourth were now administrative and residential sections, all lab functions having long since moved into more modern quarters.

The old structure was a logical place to locate the station's most secret operations. In the earliest days of Lunar exploration it had been discovered that excellent concrete could be made from minerals found abundantly on the moon. It was far cheaper to launch mooncrete from the lunar surface than to bring metals and other costly materials from Earth. Also, mooncrete could be molded into thick walls and bulkheads, reducing chance of damage from meteoroids and exposure to radiation. Since the scientists and engineers were not working with pre-formed sections and members, they could easily design an enclosure to fit the latest development in any given project.

Without seeming obvious, Vladyka studied what little was available on Quadrant Three. Due to the thickness of the walls, he would have to get in through one of the entrances. They were small and no doubt very secure. This was going to be interesting. But then, he thought with deep satisfaction, had it been easy, they would not have sent Daniko Vladyka.

SEVEN

"Whose ship is that?" Ulric pointed to one of
Cyrano
's screens. It revealed a vessel shaped bizarrely like a Chinese lantern, docked near the Ciano lab next to a school vessel. A throng of students were reembarking from the rock by way of a transparent umbilicus.

"That's the
Johann Gutenberg
, Chih' Chin Fu's ship," Derek said.

"Wonderful," Ulric said. "I thought we'd only have to deal with one lunatic. It seems there will be two."

"Three," François corrected. "Don't forget Crazy Roseberry."

"Am I to believe," Valentina said, "that you don't hold these people in the esteem their accomplishments led me to anticipate?"

Her wrists were still bound with a strand of micro-monofilament. It was not especially tight, but a hard jerk could cut her hands off.

"I really don't give a damn what you believe," Ulric said. "It's what you know that concerns me. But, to answer your question, I have always questioned that woman's sanity. Not her genius, mind you—just whether all her hatches were secured. She's given us all ample reason to doubt."

"She's the greatest—" Derek was cut off by a glare from Ulric. All too aware of his delicate position with the family, he prudently shut up.

Cyrano
docked in the small, airtight harbor and they prepared to disembark as the dock repressurized. With his pistol, Ulric indicated that Valentina should be the first off the ship. She moved stiffly. They were all cramped after the trip in the tiny ship and she had the added handicap of bound hands and feet. A man in improbable robes greeted them as they descended to the floor of the dock.

"What an unexpected pleasure," said Fu. "So many people to emerge from so small a vessel. Young Derek I know, and Mr. Ulric Kuroda I know by reputation, but you, young sir—"

"François Kuroda." The bullet-headed young man nodded curtly.

"And this charming lady I know by surveillance. Valentina Ambartsumian, I believe?"

"I see no point in denying it."

"Why should you? After all, we're all friends here. Come, let's trade these dismal environs for more comfortable surroundings. I have prevailed upon the estimable Mr. Roseberry to open Ugo Ciano's own lounge for us."

"I have to see Sieglinde," Ulric insisted.

"All in good time. She is closeted in her laboratory, as she has been for quite some time. She insists upon her privacy, and failure to comply with her wishes can be life-threatening."

Ciano's lounge was, predictably, an odd place. The walls were water tanks full of colorful tropical fish. A floor-to-ceiling rack held hundreds of bottles. Derek took one and read the label. It said "Wild Turkey." All the bottles were identical. Despite the slightness of the gravity, all the furniture was nightmarishly Victorian—heavy, dark wood upholstered in overstuffed scarlet leather or velvet. The floor was covered with artificial plastic grass, of the type that once floored Earth sports stadia. The whole room was filled with junk defying categorization.

"He came here to
relax
?" Ulric said.

"A man of interesting tastes," Fu said. "I find in him a kindred spirit."

"I can imagine. Look, I don't have time to waste. I need to—"

Fu broke in smoothly. "Then perhaps we could employ this interval constructively while waiting for Sieglinde to grace us with her presence." His hand disappeared into his robe and reemerged with a small handset. He began tapping its tiny plates with the tips of two-inch fingernails. "Miss Ambartsumian, be so kind as to tell us if you see anyone you recognize. These are Earth agents who have been working off-planet in recent years. Some we know well, others we only suspect. "

"Do you really think I'll tell you anything of value?"

"I believe so. For one thing, I will know the instant you see someone familiar to you."

Could he really be that sensitive? She decided that he probably was. The man had practically invented the art of physiognomical analysis. Even her training and control probably wouldn't fool him. She shrugged. "Go ahead."

"I should point out that none of these work for Mr. Carstairs. Since your loyalty is solely to him, you'll do him no disservice by aiding us in this." In the air between them appeared several human forms in sequence. Each appeared, rotated and disappeared after a few seconds. At one, he stopped the display. "You know this one?"

"I'm not sure." It was a male, burly, pale and hairless. She considered him for a moment. "Darken him a bit. Give him bristly, black hair and a droopy mustache."

Fu's fingers danced over the handset. Besides the additions she asked for he gave the man a heavy beard-shadow. "Better?"

"Damn!" she said, softly. "
He's
out here?"

"Who the hell is he?" Ulric demanded.

"He's a Montenegrin peasant named Daniko Vladyka. Thinks he's God's gift to the intelligence profession. A real killer, ruthless and very ambitious."

"Who does he work for?" Fu asked.

"Mehmet Shevket." She didn't quite spit.

"That's a name we've heard too much of lately," Ulric added. "Where'd you find him, Mr. Fu?"

"He is elusive, but he once made the mistake of sneaking into Armstrong by one of the old smugglers' routes. That brought him to my attention, although subsequent monitoring of his activities on that occasion turned up nothing of great interest."

"He was probably just establishing contacts," Valentina said.

"So I surmised. More recently, he has been operating near Avalon in a ship named
Ivo the Black
. He has used a number of names."

"There's no law against that," Derek said. He was tired of being ignored.

"There ought to be," François said. "How the hell can we keep track of people if we don't make them stick to one name at a time?"

"Turning into a budding little fascist, aren't you, François? Next you'll want ID tags, passports. Why don't you just vote Earth First at the next elections?"

"Y'know," François said, "there's an ancient and little-known martial art called pistol whipping. Why don't we—"

"Why don't you both cut out the adolescent chest-thumping?" Ulric suggested. "You're both too old for it, physically, at least, and the rest of us find it offensive."

A wall slid up, fish and all, and Sieglinde entered, dressed in a white coverall, her eyes ringed with blue smudges. "Hello Ulric, François." She nodded to them and crossed the room to Derek. "You didn't take long."

"It was pretty much as you figured," Derek said. "Though why I'd draw them all like a magnet I'm not certain. By the way, there's a Russian trussed up in my EV suit locker."

Her eyebrow went up half a millimeter. "Do you always keep Russians in there?"

"We had to put him someplace," Ulric said, "and the ship was cramped. You two are talking as if you'd planned it all, Sieglinde."

"I told Derek what to expect. Also that I wanted any agents that attached themselves to him brought here."

"I gave him somewhat the same instructions." He glared balefully at Derek from beneath white eyebrows. "I'll speak with you later."

"I needed to get my ship and fuel paid for. I tried to make everybody happy. What's wrong with that?"

"Why," Sieglinde demanded in a chill voice, "is this woman tied up?"

"She's dangerous," Ulric told her. "Carstairs' personal agent. You know she has to be the best. No sense taking any chances."

"Untie her. Now!" Her order cracked out with such authority that the three Avalonians scrambled to do her bidding. "It is inhumane, besides being an insult to my security systems. Nobody's managed to lay a hand on me in more than fifty years. Did you really think this child could harm me?"

"Actually," François said, "it was us we were worried about."

"As well you might. You're safe here. That's better. So," she withdrew her attention from the others so thoroughly that they might as well not have existed, "you're Anthony's special agent. I suppose he sent you to find out about the Rhea Object?"

"Yes. I was supposed to infiltrate Aeaea, but I deduced that Derek had found more than one and that you were conducting an independent investigation."

"Very good. Did you have orders to steal it or kill me?" She might have been talking about the ambient air pressure.

"No, just to learn what was being discovered about the thing. My boss doesn't trust your scientists to be totally open, I'm afraid."

"It's been a century since any Earth politician told the truth about anything," Ulric said. "I can understand why they distrust everybody else."

Sieglinde ignored him. "I think I'll have a few words with Mr. Carstairs."

"You'll have to go through your Earth ambassador," Valentina said. "Even I don't have a direct line to him. I have to report to a secure computer program and it can be days before I can get him on a secure line. It may be a shorter wait now, since he's given my current mission top priority."

"Why wait?" Sieglinde said. She took a handset from her belt. It was one of the mysterious items she had designed and nobody else could figure out. It was a perfectly transparent, unmarked rectangular plastic plate. Her fingers traced across it and she turned to the antiquated robot beside her. "The usual."

While they waited, the rest gave it orders. Presently, a fish tank wall raised and a miniature locomotive rolled in, bearing drinks on a string of tiny flatcars.

"The late Mr. Ciano," Fu said, "had a decided taste for the baroque."

They were all silenced when Anthony Carstairs appeared in holograph in the center of the room. He looked surprised and disgusted at the same time. From the direction of his gaze, the only one in the room visible to him was Sieglinde. He collected himself quickly. " 'Allo, Linde. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I need to have a few words with you, Tony."

"Always glad to oblige. Where are you? Luna?"

"No, I'm in the Belt, near Avalon."

His expression sharpened. "You've always dealt straight with me, Linde. Why're you lying now? There's at least a ten-minute transmission delay between here and there. We can't talk like this, with no time lag."

"A little experiment of mine in superluminal communication. I just got most of the bugs worked out."

"Blimey! Finally got it licked, did you? Congratulations."

"It only works for short distances so far, but I'll have it perfected soon. It's a convenience, but it's not what I called you about. I have your agent here," she turned. "What is your name, dear?"

"Valentina."

"She says her name is Valentina."

"Bloody hell. What shape's she in?"

"She's quite all right. Tony, if you wanted to know about the Rhea Object, why didn't you just ask me? You know I'd tell you the truth."

"Christ, woman, I thought the damned thing was on bloody Aeaea! I wouldn't trust those buggers to tell me the seat of my pants were on fire if I could smell the smoke! I take it you've got your own paperweight to study?"

"Sieglinde!" Ulric barked. "You can't talk like this over a transmission!"

She turned to him with a face like iron. "Ulric, I'll ask you for the last time not to insult my security procedures. They're the tightest known to humanity."

"Eh?" Carstairs said. "Linde, who's the bugger I can't see from here?"

"Just a relative. He thinks my secrecy protection can be pierced."

"Hell, don't I just wish! You spacers and your damned families. I suppose you have a great gaggle of 'em up there?"

"Just a moment, let me adjust the set. Tony, meet Derek, who discovered the artifacts, Ulric, a distant kinsman in the Kuroda clan, François, likewise—"

"Jesus, Sieglinde," Ulric protested, "you can't do this! It'll ruin—" She ignored him.

"The rest I believe you know. The only other inhabitant of this place is Mr. Roseberry, who's off taking care of something or other."

"G'day Mr. Fu, Val. Old Roseberry, eh? So you're in Ciano's old lab? Good place to work on it, I suppose."

"Don't forget the Russian in my EV suit locker," Derek reminded her, earning a warning glare from Ulric.

Carstairs smiled broadly. "So you're keeping Russians in lockers these days, eh? I never used that one on you even in my best propaganda speeches during the war."

"We'll get to him presently. The point is that you, and we, and all of humanity have a big problem. The Rhea Objects came along at exactly the right or exactly the wrong time, depending on your viewpoint. It struck me that, instead of all this sneaking around and double-dealing, it makes a lot more sense to get together to discuss this."

"Right you are, Linde. I just let my naturally sneaky and duplicitous nature get the better of me." He reached out of sight, apparently into a desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle of Scotch and a glass. "Think I'll have a dram, since you're all indulging." He poured a gill and tossed if off, then poured another and sat back in his chair. "Now, by problem, I imagine you're referring to Mehmet Shevket and his merry band?"

"Exactly. One of his agents has already been spotted. Miss Valentina kindly identified him for us."

"I told her to watch for them." He cocked an eye toward Valentina. "I suspect he's a bad 'un, Val?"

"One of the worst. A Montenegran pig named Vladyka. You remember him."

"That I do. Distinguished himself for brutality in the Malaysian insurrection. It made him a natural for Shevket's personal following. Do you have him located now?"

"He has, unfortunately, escaped our observation for the moment. We have no such all-encompassing surveillance systems as you have on Earth."

Carstairs snorted amusement. "It's the system you've picked, you live with it. But take my advice: When you find that bugger, kill him."

"I have every intention of doing just that," Ulric said, barely restraining his temper.

"Good for you," Carstairs said. "Now, Linde, shall we get down to the meat of this little get-together? I have about three hours clear before I have to meet a whole delegation of people from Tasmania or some such place. I'm told I can't brush them off."

"That should be adequate," Sieglinde said.

"Respected cousin," Ulric said, with great formality, so as not to give traditional grounds for offense, "does this seemingly slapdash procedure truly constitute a maximum-security conference? It seems to me that this business could be all our death warrants."