The Artifact

  “There’s never been a ship like me before,” came the retort.

  “Then perhaps, Boaz, ”—he smiled slightly—“we should become better acquainted.”

  * * *

  Constance sat with Nikita and Tayash Niter, wishing for a little small talk to relieve the tension, to intrude into her preoccupation with Carrasco, and the way the starlight had played on his face last night.

  Hendricks argued with Wan Yang Dow—two incomprehensible minds in mental combat. Elvina Young giggled over by the dispenser while Mark Lietov moved closer and closer, a flush spreading under his dark skin.

  “Tell me truth. I don’t understand Brotherhood ship. Has two First Officers. Why not one First Officer and one Second Officer?” Nikita gestured with a hand like a bear’s paw. Tayash sat nearby in a form-fitting wraparound, that accented every lump of bone in his skinny body.

  They had seated themselves in a corner of the lounge while Archon engaged Forney Andrews, the bristly gray Patrol Colonel from Arcturus, at the gaming booth. Shouts and cries indicated that passions ran high as the two players stared into the holo tank. In the far corner, waspish Origue Sanchez talked quietly with Mikhi Hitavia and Arness.

  Connie fingered the stem of her glass, aware of Nikita’s beetling frown. “They share equal rank. Technically, whichever one is on duty at the time has command. If it’s Art’s watch, his decisions override Bryana’s, and vice versa. The Captain’s orders, of course, override all others. If something happened to Carrasco, the person on duty at the time would assume the Captain’s position until the emergency was over. After the crisis subsided, the crew would select a temporary captain until the position could be confirmed by the Brotherhood on Frontier.”

  “Reeks delightfully of anarchy,” Nikita grunted. “Is too much of coincidence to be true. But you have met infamous and mysterious Galactic Grand Master Kraal. What you think? Is truly Cytillian bloodworm sucking the honest sweat of laboring men and women like most of galaxy believes ... or is good savior of downtrodden masses as Brotherhood propaganda makes out?”

  Connie arched a red eyebrow. “Am I supposed to seriously believe all this business of social exploitation?”

  Tayash Niter grunted under his breath. “It’s mostly hot air.”

  Nikita pulled back a big foot, aiming a kick at his antique friend, only to have Tayash strike out with his black cane, spearing the big Gulagi’s planted foot, eliciting a howl and a hop, skip escape from the darting point of the cane.

  “See”—Tayash grinned wickedly—“technology overcomes the brute every time.”

  Connie carefully interposed herself between the men, cutting off Nikita’s retaliation. “In answer to your question, I don’t have a final opinion one way or the other. While I was on Frontier, Kraal was polite, professional, and concerned. As to his ultimate goals, those remain to be seen.”

  “Bah! Then you do not trust Brotherhood?” Nikita tugged at his rag mop of a beard.

  “I don’t trust you either. First you make veiled threats of seduction—in front of my own father, no less—and then I find out your hints of heartbreak and true love are backed by three wives. Compared with that, I’ll take Kraal’s alleged sincerity any day.”

  While Tayash cackled hysterically, Nikita scowled, black forests of eyebrows pulled low. “Very well, is only small mistake. I backtrack and regroup. Dazzle you with masculine prowess until you come to swoon for me.”

  “That’ll be the day. I can just imagine beautiful Connie falling for ... Hey, what’s this?” Tayash gestured with his cane. “A truce?”

  Connie shot a quick glance over her shoulder, seeing Hitavia walking out, a hand lifted to stop Norik Ngoro as he crossed the lounge, totally absorbed by something in his head. She couldn’t hear the words, but Hitavia managed to slow the tall man, speaking earnestly, and finally dragging him over by the dispensers where he poured a drink.

  “If you gentlemen would excuse me, I’d better take a strategic position where I can depressurize the fire zone. Things burn slower in vacuum.”

  “We talk more of Brotherhood later,” Nikita agreed. “Who am I to lose lovely companion to Hitavia? If he wins your heart, I simply break his neck. So much for rival.”

  “And I’ll tell your wives,” Connie rejoined.

  Nikita groaned.

  As she approached, Hitavia waved her over. Looking abashed, he told her: “I’m apologizing to the Representative, and to you, too. I’m afraid you both got to see me at my worst last night. A little too much scotch ... a bit of indiscretion. I reacted defensively and poorly. We do have to work together.”

  “I see your sincerity,” Norik added in his deep bass. “My aide tells me I asked the wrong questions at the wrong time. I meant no implications concerning your behavior but wondered about the greater ramifications of-”

  “If you don’t mind, Representative Ngoro,” Connie broke in, seeing the faraway look deepening in Norik’s eyes. When he lost touch like that, God alone knew what he’d ask next. “How have you been doing with your quest?”

  Ngoro smiled. “I was on my way to tell the Captain. Most extraordinary. A mind of incredible perversity and genius. A great deal of damage might have been done.”

  “Who, Norik? You’d better take it immediately to—”

  “Connie?” She turned, seeing her father strolling across the room. “Could I see you for a moment? It’s important.”

  “Sure.” Uneasy, she looked up at Norik. “Norik, what you’ve found out might be important. Take it to the Captain now. Don’t get that look in your eyes. It gets you in trouble ... or shall I call Amahara to keep track?”

  “Look in my eyes?” he asked, mystified.

  Hitavia smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, in the future, I’ll run when I see it.”

  Connie winked at him. “Good man.”

  “Mr. Representative,” Ngoro began. “What do you think-”

  “Now, Norik!” Connie pointed to the corridor.

  “Yes.” Vacantly he walked off.

  “I should . . . No, Sol will call if Norik’s onto something.” She took her father’s arm. “Game over? Who won?”

  “Um, Forney was ahead. Sorry to bother you. First Officer Bryana called to inform me that Captain Mason has some new requisitions he needs to fill. Looks like the water purifiers are going to be trouble. Your place or mine?”

  “Yours. All the records are there.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Besides, you’re safe. I know for a fact you’re still in love with my mother.”

  He smiled warmly. “Forever.”

  Hours later, bleary-eyed, they finished the figures. Connie palmed the lock plate, stepping out into the empty corridor. Around her, Boaz hummed softly. No call had come from Carrasco. Evidently, Norik hadn’t found anything definitive. Well, when she returned to her quarters, she’d call anyway, just in case.

  “Despicable work, accounting.” She walked slowly down the gleaming white corridor. Memories lingered of Solomon Carrasco’s face in the starlight as he wrestled with the problem she’d given him.

  “And, Captain, it’s only going to get worse.” Could she trust him? That haunting vulnerability in his eyes touched her, warmed something tender and lonely deep inside.

  She sighed, “If only it were another place, another time.”

  Turning down the corridor that led to her room, she practically fell over the man sprawled facedown on the deck plates.

  She looked around before bending down to place trained fingers on his cooling flesh. Slowly she rose, eyes narrowed. He looked like he’d simply lain down and gone to sleep, but his eyes stared stonily off into eternity, and his lips had gone slack. A puddle of urine was drying where the urethral sphincter had loosened.

  “Damn.” She took two steps to the hall comm, pressing the button. “Solomon Carrasco, please.”

  “Here.”

  “This is Constance. Ngoro’s dead.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  Sol was on his feet, drawing on his un
iform. “Where? What happened?”

  “Companionway D-7, Captain. As to what happened, I have no idea.”

  “I’m on the way. A med unit is already dispatched. I’ll be right there.”

  Sol pulled on his boots and hesitated. “Boaz, do you have any idea about this? Did you pick up anything on the monitors?”

  “No, Captain. I have no monitoring capability in those particular corridors. Rerunning the record cubes, I can tell you Representative Ngoro entered the corridor alone.”

  “And Constance?”

  “She discovered the body, Captain. She’s been involved with her father for some time over a Star’s Rest domestic problem.”

  He was running down the long white corridors to D deck. At 7 he rounded the corner to see Constance bent over the long-limbed body of Norik Ngoro. From the far end, he could see Ensign Wheeler running forward, a small med unit scooting before him.

  Sol bent down; he could find no pulse. When he pinched the fingernails, the pink retreated—and did not return. No pupil dilation occurred as Sol moved the head back and forth. He pulled Constance out of the way as Wheeler positioned the med unit over the body and lowered it.

  “Any idea what’s wrong?” Wheeler asked, concentrating on the readouts.

  “No,” Sol told him, looking curiously at Constance. She shook her head, foreboding in her expression.

  “He’s dead,” Wheeler offered. “Been that way for almost an hour.”

  “Take him to hospital, Ensign. See if Boaz can do anything.” Sol took Constance by the arm and followed the med unit down the gleaming white halls.

  Over his shoulder, Wheeler added, “I don’t know, Captain. It depends on what we’re dealing with. The critical thing is the amount of time passed. Brain deterioration and metabolic dysfunction make bringing him back a pretty long shot.”

  The hospital sparkled lustrous white as could be expected on a ship. The med units rested in racks, stacked neatly along one wall. Rows of the ship’s instruments held themselves at bay along the bulkhead, several reaching down and taking over as Wheeler slid the portable unit onto a bed.

  The ensign stepped back and crossed his arms. “Now we wait.”

  Constance looked up at Sol, the pain of this new burden showing on her face.

  Sol took her arm and led her to one of the bunks. “The finest doctor in the galaxy is working on him now.” He pointed to the long metallic arms that probed and prodded. “Boaz carries one of the most complete medical libraries in space.”

  “That’s right,” Wheeler added. “I have almost fifteen years of advanced training. Compared to Boaz and her lightning diagnosis and treatment, I’m all thumbs and witching sticks.”

  Constance took a deep breath. “I see. I had no idea these ships were that advanced.”

  “Captain? Medical report,” the speaker cackled in the monotone reserved for unauthorized personnel.

  Instead of a verbal analysis, a long printout emerged from comm. Wheeler grabbed it and swiftly scanned the page. A tightening of his brow and the deepening of the lines around his mouth confirmed the results.

  “He’s too far gone. We can’t bring him back. From the preliminary investigation, myocardial infarction appears to be the culprit.”

  “I see.” He looked at the chronometer. “I’ll contact Amahara, he’s probably stalking the corridors for Norik anyway. I guess this time he’s got a reason to be worried sick. Stabilize the Representative’s body. He’s a station man. There might be some cultural care we need to be aware of.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wheeler nodded, moving toward the body as Sol led Connie out into the corridor. The ship seemed quieter, the air almost cool against his skin.

  “You see anything around the body? Any sign he tried to get up or call out?”

  She shook her head. “He was just lying there. Like he’d lain down and gone to sleep. Not even his clothing was disturbed.” She looked up at him speculatively. “You suspect something else? I thought your ship’s hospital was the finest—”

  “It is. No, I’m just jumpy. Too much is happening. I’m on edge all is all. Little irregularities—like Ngoro dying when he’s on the track of his ‘creature’ set me off. Possibility and probability get all wound together.”

  She bit her lip. “Captain, he said he’d found something. Do you suppose ...”

  Sol’s gut twisted. “He wasn’t ambushed, if that’s what you mean. No sign of violence on the body or Boaz would have found it. Fear leaves traces in the blood. She reported no trauma.”

  Connie’s expression narrowed with concern.

  He stopped before her hatch. “Get some sleep. If you have trouble, Boaz can help. She can dispense you something. And we have a device to stimulate alpha and beta cycles for deep sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She smiled weakly and palmed her hatch, leaving Sol to stare at the white pressure door before he left on the grim task of informing Amahara.

  * * *

  “All right, Boaz, let’s have it.” He entered his cabin, dropping on the hard pallet, wearily pulling off his boots.

  “Ambassador Norik Ngoro was murdered, Captain. I’m having a little trouble isolating the drug used to stop his heart. We’re dealing with something quite sophisticated chemically. There were no breaks on his skin. From stomach contents, I would guess he ingested the lethal agent.”

  A creeping cold pricked Sol’s own heart and spread. He stuck his coffee cup into the dispenser and propped himself up, nursing the steaming liquid.

  Boaz continued, “I have the agent, Captain. Norik Ngoro was killed by ingesting pharmacopa. a bacterially derived neurotoxin which works on each of the cardiac plexes, in effect destroying the regularity of heartbeat and leading to death.”

  “Check the others on board!”

  “I have done so; with the exception of Constance and Archon, each and every one of the diplomats are resting easily. Had there been a second dose administered, the victim would already be dead. Further, I have recovered Norik Ngoro’s stomach contents and can tell you the poison was administered through an after dinner cocktail.”

  “How long does it take for this stuff to have an effect?”

  “Three hours, Captain.”

  Sol glanced at the time display. “So, it would have been introduced just as most of the diplomats were going to their quarters for sleep. Where was Constance during all this?” A tensing of his jaws built an ache around his molars.

  “She spent most of the evening talking with Nikita Malakova and Tayash Niter. Upon seeing Ngoro and Hitavia in conversation, she joined them for a moment. She left the ambassador to go and discuss several subjects-including your behavior—with her father. She was headed for her quarters when she found the body. That, however, does not preclude Mikhia Hitavia, Wan Yang Dow, Fan Jordan, Elvina Young, Joseph Young, and Arturian from being capable of having slipped something into the Ambassador’s drink. All spoke to him during the etiological window for administration of the pharmacopa.”

  Sol nodded and took a deep breath. “I suppose I’d better inform Archon. I don’t imagine, however, I’d better tell him his daughter is suspect.”

  “I’ve been holding his call so we could discuss this, Captain. I will put him on.”

  The ruddy features of the grizzled Speaker of Star’s Rest filled the comm screen. “Captain, Connie just told me. I’m afraid this sets us back. I was hoping to lean on Ambassador Ngoro.”

  Sol nodded. “Speaker, could I please see you in my quarters. I would like to discuss this with you—alone.”

  Caught in mid-nod, Archon’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Yes, Captain, of course.” The screen went blank.

  “Not the reaction I’d hoped for.” Sol winced and chugged his coffee before sticking the cup into the dispenser again.

  Archon arrived in record time.

  “Captain,” the Speaker erupted harshly, as he strode in, “if I were to take your meaning, Ngoro didn’t die of a simple heart attack and you think my daughter had some
thing to do with it! I want you to know—”

  “Hold it!” Sol blasted back. “Sit down and I’ll give you what I know. I’m not accusing anyone—yet.”

  “So, it was murder?” Archon asked gruffly, settling into the self-conforming chair. He sat with arms stiffly propped like a sprinter at the starting line.

  Sol crossed his arms and leaned against the bulkhead. “It was. The murderer used a drug called pharmacopa. Someone slipped it into Ngoro’s drink.” He handed Archon a list of the people who’d been around Ngoro that night. “Fortunately, because of Ngoro’s, shall we say, unique personality, not many patronized the ambassador. One of the people on that list had to have killed him. Now you can see why I didn’t want Constance here. She talked to him. In fact, from what I can piece together, he originally was on his way here, to see me about some potential troublemaker he called the ‘creature’ when Hitavia distracted him. Ngoro’s attention span evidently didn’t rank among his strong points. Unfortunately he hesitated several times on his way here. That extra time cost him his life.”

  “My daughter liked and respected him, Captain. Constance isn’t the sort who would poison a man’s drink, for God’s sake. She’d kill him outright.”

  “Speaker, it takes three hours for the drug to work. Those people dealt with Ngoro for four hours prior to his death. Constance doesn’t stand out as being more suspect than any of the others.”

  Archon digested this information for a while, then finally asked, “How do you know all this? How do you know who was present? You didn’t learn this from Connie. She would’ve been suspicious if you’d interrogated her. She thinks it was a heart attack.”

  Sol shrugged. “I just got lucky in this instance and had a witness.”

  Archon’s eyes narrowed again. “Does this ship spy on us? I’ve heard stories about Brotherhood ships. That they have powers like a human. That they can—”

  “Put your mind at rest, Speaker.” With what he hoped was his best look of innocent sincerity, Sol shook his head. “Greatly exaggerated, I’m afraid. No, like I said; I just got lucky. I don’t want to tip my source yet.”