The Icarus Hunt (16 page)

I passed around to the other side of the pallets, where Fulbright was still lying trussed up glaring at me. “Sorry about this, James,” I apologized. “I’ll make it up to you next time, all right?”

The look in his eyes made it abundantly clear what his plans were for the next time. But again, that was a future too distant to worry about right now.

I hopped on the southbound slideway and headed back toward the spaceport center, keeping an eye on the Lumpies and Thompson as long as they were in sight. The minute they were lost to view I got off the slideway and headed east toward the
Icarus
’s landing cradle, walking quickly along until I reached a properly directed slideway and getting on it.

And there, with finally a moment of breathing space, I opened Thompson’s folder and started going through his papers. I was only halfway through when I put them back into my pocket and pulled out Fulbright’s phone.

“Yes?” Ixil’s melodic voice answered.

“It’s me,” I said. “How’s the fueling going?”

“Probably no more than a quarter finished,” he said. “They only got here fifteen minutes ago.”

“Tell them to quit and seal the ship back up,” I told him. “And get the bridge and drive preflights started. We’re out of here as soon as I get back.”

There was just the briefest pause. “What did Uncle Arthur
say
?”

“I never got to talk to Uncle Arthur,” I told him. “And I’ll explain as much as I can when I get there. Just get us ready to fly, all right?”

“Got it,” he said. “We’ll be ready when you are.”

The
Icarus
was buttoned down, with no fuelers in sight, by the time I retracted the ramp and sealed the hatchway. Tera and Everett tried to collar me in the corridor, demanding to know what the rush was; I ordered them back to their stations in no uncertain terms and headed to the bridge.

Ixil was waiting for me there. “All set,” he said, standing up and relinquishing the control chair to me. “Nicabar is ready with the drive, the fuelers are paid off, and I’ve got lift permission from the tower.”

“Good,” I said, sliding into the chair and sounding the lift alert. “Let’s get out of here.”

We were off the ground, nearly out of Dorscind’s World’s atmosphere, and driving for the blackness of space when he finally broke the silence. “Well?”

I leaned back in my seat. “Someone out there wants to get hold of the
Icarus
,” I said. “They want it very badly.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know why,” I said, pulling Thompson’s documents out of my pocket and handing them over. “But I do know who.”

He leafed through the papers, and stopped at the same place I had. Staring at the plain ID card with its operative number and ornate governmental seal and nothing else, the ferrets on his shoulders twitching with his astonishment. “I don’t believe it,” he said mechanically, looking up at me.

“I don’t believe it either,” I agreed grimly. “But it’s true. We, my friend, are being chased by the Patth.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Ixil protested.

“On the contrary, it makes perfect sense,” I countered. “It has to. We just don’t know what that sense is yet, that’s all.”

Ixil muttered something in his own language, rubbing a fingertip along the corner of my locker. We had retired to my cabin as the most private place on the ship to talk after I’d gotten us into hyperspace and turned the bridge over to Tera. Technically, it was Shawn’s shift, with Chort on watch in the engine room, but given the shape Shawn had been in when I left earlier I wouldn’t have trusted him to butter bread for me, let alone watch over a ship I was on.

And between then and now, I’d had time to do some serious thinking. “Look, it’s very simple,” I went on. “At least, the basics of it are. The archaeological dig on Meima found something big—that much is clear from the fact that Cameron himself came out there to take a look. They brought in the
Icarus
—”

“Wait a minute,” Ixil put in. “How did they bring it in without the Port Authority having a record of it?”

“Probably in pieces,” I said. “You’ve seen what this thing looks like—odds are Cameron flew it in in sections, along with some of his tech people to put it together, and maybe with the archaeological team helping with some of the gruntwork. They probably built it underground, which would explain why none of the normal incoming traffic noticed it on the surface.”

“Then that massive explosion Director Aymi-Mastr told you about was to blow the roof off one of those underground caverns and let the ship out.”

“Right,” I nodded. “Along with conveniently scrambling the spaceport sensors so that its departure wouldn’t be noticed. I’d give a lot to know what they added to the explosive or the dirt strata to pull that off—again, it was probably Cameron’s techs who handled that one.”

“So why didn’t they just leave then?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Either they didn’t have a crew put together yet, or else they wanted an official spaceport stamp to add legitimacy to things.”

“Or perhaps were planning to bring the entire archaeological group out together,” Ixil suggested. “There’s certainly plenty of extra carrying capacity aboard.”

“Good point,” I agreed, glancing over at the three-bunk tier. “And they couldn’t all get on board and leave right then because they knew the authorities would come to investigate the explosion. Finding the site deserted would raise red flags from here to Thursday, which was exactly what they didn’t want.

“Anyway, so the
Icarus
lifted up under cover of the cloud, maybe circled the planet once, and joined the line of incoming ships waiting clearance to land. They put down, showed their forged Gamm Port Authority sealed-cargo license, and were in. The crew left the
ship, planning to take off again in the morning with the whole crowd aboard and a genuine lift document that would get them back to Earth with no raised eyebrows from anyone.”

“Except that something went wrong,” Ixil said heavily. “The question is, what?”

“Somebody tumbled to the scheme, obviously,” I said. “Not the Patth themselves, I don’t think. Or if it was, they didn’t realize right away the full significance of what Cameron’s people had dug up—if they had, they’d have pushed the Ihmisits into locking down the port completely.”

“The Lumpy Brothers or their friends, perhaps?”

“Possibly,” I agreed, “though I’m still not sure how they fit into this. But whoever it was, and however they tumbled to it, they were interested enough to raid the dig, grab everyone in sight, and send the Ihmisits hunting for anyone who may have slipped through the net.”

“Like Cameron?”

“Like Cameron,” I nodded. “And so there he was, alone on Meima, with the authorities on his tail, a hot ship locked away behind a fence where he couldn’t get at it, and no one to fly it even if he could.”

Ixil shook his head. “Not a situation I’d want to find myself in.”

“The way things are going, you may get your chance at it yet,” I warned. “Still, Arno Cameron didn’t build a multitrillion-commark industrial empire by lying down and giving up when things got tough. He started going through the periphery tavernos, probably very systematically, looking for enough spacers at loose ends to put together a new crew.”

“And to all appearances he succeeded,” Ixil said. “Which leads immediately to the question of why he didn’t fly out with you.”

“That one’s got me stumped, too,” I conceded. “Clearly, they hadn’t caught him yet—Director Aymi-Mastr and her frog-eyed heavies grabbing me on the
way into the port proved that much. He may have decided that trying to walk through a relatively narrow port gate under the gaze of a pair of Ihmis door wardens would be pushing his luck too far.”

“Even if staying behind meant they would eventually run him down?”

“He might have decided that giving the
Icarus
a head start was worth that risk.” I grimaced. “Which he may now have lost. Unlike the Lumpy Brothers, our generous Patth agent with the stack of hundreds knew the
Icarus
’s name.”

“Possibly,” Ixil said. “On the other hand, we presume they had the rest of the group already in custody. Perhaps one of them finally talked.” He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. “There is, of course, another possible explanation for Cameron’s absence, given the accidents that have happened on board. Perhaps one of the spacers he hired was not the innocent out-of-work drifter he seemed. Particularly now that we know that the Patth
do
have non-Patth agents on retainer.”

“That thought has spent a lot of time twirling around my brain, too,” I acknowledged. “The problem is, why hasn’t he done anything recently? If he’s trying to damage the crew or slow down the ship, why haven’t there been more such accidents?”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ixil warned.

“I’m not wishing for it,” I assured him fervently. “I’m just trying to understand it. Okay, he killed Jones and shook up Chort a little, but that was about it. He certainly wasn’t busy throwing wrenches in the gears while we were on Xathru and Dorscind’s World.”

“He didn’t call in the authorities at either place, either,” Ixil agreed. “As I see it, there are two other possibilities we haven’t yet addressed. First, that the attack on Jones was personal to Jones. Once he was dead, the perpetrator stopped perpetrating because his job was finished.”

“But why pick on Jones?” I countered. “No one aboard knew anyone else prior to boarding.”

“So we assume,” Ixil said. “That may turn out not to be the case. Second, and possibly more intriguing, the attack on Jones may have been staged by Jones himself.”

I frowned. “To what end?”

“To the end of allowing him to jump ship without any attached suspicion,” Ixil said. “Think about it. If the carbon monoxide hadn’t killed him, you would certainly have put him off the ship on Xathru for a complete medical check. That would have left him with names and complete descriptions of you and the rest of the crew, details of the
Icarus
itself, and very possibly the itinerary Cameron had planned for the trip to Earth.
And
he would have had complete freedom of movement.”

“The itinerary wouldn’t have done him any good,” I said mechanically. This angle had never even occurred to me. “We’re already way off Cameron’s plan, and will be staying that way as long as the docking-fee bribe money holds out. You’re suggesting he just miscalculated, then?”

“I don’t know.” Ixil paused. “There is, of course, one other possibility we haven’t touched on. Did you think to search Jones’s body before it was taken off the ship?”

A tight knot formed in the center of my stomach. “No, I didn’t,” I said. “It never even occurred to me.”

“It’s possible whoever killed him did so in order to use his body as a receptacle for passing information,” Ixil suggested. “Hard data, perhaps, such as photos or schematics that couldn’t easily be sent via phone.”

“But why bother?” I asked. “They all had complete freedom of movement on Xathru. Why not just deliver it in person?”

“Perhaps the murderer didn’t want to risk being seen in the company of the wrong people.”

I mulled that one over. “Which would imply we were dealing with a genuine professional here.”

Ixil nodded. “Yes. It would.”

I hissed thoughtfully between my teeth. There were indeed people out there, I knew, who would go to such lengths to complete a mission. But to have one of them just happen to be aboard the
Icarus
was pushing the bounds of credibility way beyond even their normal elasticity range. “Again, though, if someone wanted the
Icarus
badly enough to slip that kind of professional aboard, why haven’t we been stopped already?”

“That is indeed a key question,” Ixil conceded. “I’m afraid, Jordan, that there are still too many missing pieces to this puzzle.”

“The biggest of which is sitting back there in our cargo hold,” I agreed grimly. “I’m starting to think it’s about time we had ourselves a close look at it.”

Ixil rubbed his cheek. “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I’ve looked over the schematics Tera pulled from the computer. There aren’t any access panels shown at all.”

“You’ve got a cutting torch in the mechanics shop, don’t you?” I pointed out. “An access hole is basically wherever we want to make one.”

“I wasn’t thinking so much about getting in as I was of covering up afterward the fact that we’d done so,” Ixil said mildly. “If Jones didn’t engineer his own accident—and to be honest, I really don’t think he did—then whoever did is still aboard. We may not want to set up a situation where he would be able to get a look of his own into the hold.”

Unfortunately, he was right. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “We’ll play along a while longer. But you might want to get your cutting equipment ready just the same. At some point I don’t think we’re going to be able to afford to continue flying blind.”

“Perhaps,” Ixil said. “How much of this are you planning to tell the others?”

“As little as possible,” I said. “I’ve already told Tera I ran afoul of someone back there who had decided to make it his business to hijack the
Icarus
.”

“Which is more or less true.”

“Eminently true,” I agreed. “I also mentioned the murder charge against Cameron to her, just to see what kind of reaction I’d get.”

“And that was?”

“Protests of surprise, but no visible evidence of it,” I told him. “Though I’m not sure where exactly that leaves us. I think that the rest of the details, including the fact that the Patth are involved, should be left out of the story for the moment. We’ve got enough trouble as it is explaining why we’re running under fake IDs and why no one should mention the name
‘Icarus’
in groundside conversations. There’s no need to scare them, too.”

“I agree,” Ixil said, looking around and snapping his fingers twice. Pix and Pax scampered out from under my bunk and whatever they’d found to explore there and climbed up his legs and torso back to his shoulders. “I’ll go up and …”

He trailed off, an odd look on his face. “What is it?” I asked.