The Great Hydration

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Investigations Room aboard the pursuit ship Invicta was a forbidding place. The walls were panelled in dark brown wainscoting that seemed to press in on the quite small enclosure.

Across a teak table Commissioner Amundsen faced a bleary-eyed Karl Krabbe and Boris Bouche, the latter wearing his typical lopsided smirk. Ranged alongside the pair were planetologist John Spencer (Carlos Castaneda had been Krabbe’s first choice, but he was seriously ill and comatose), lawyer Harold Shelley, Joanita Serstos (though why the partners had included her in their team mystified Northrop), and Roncie Reaul Northrop himself, whose presence had been demanded by the Commission. Krabbe had raised his eyebrows on hearing this, but had made no comment. Northrop guessed, or rather hoped, that it had something to do with his attempted bond renunciation.

He felt much better now that he had fed and rested. Two officials Amundsen had not bothered to introduce flanked the Commissioner on either side, each with a stack of files in front of him. Two armed guards stood against the wall. The Enterprise, too, lay under the Invicta’s guns. If the gogetter ship tried to depart it would be replaced to junk.

Also, the Enterprise’s entire data files had been downloaded into the Stellar Commission ship. The Commission knew everything that had been going on.

Commissioner Amundsen, a purse-lipped man with pale blue eyes, radiated a steely absence of sympathy. His face was like a parchment on which was recorded the worry-lines of a bureaucratic life: battle-scars for which, one suspected, he sought revenge on anyone who crossed his path.

He cleared his throat and spoke dryly. “This is an investigation. It is not yet a trial. Facts will be established. Arguments may be presented. Wherever possible parties involved will be given the opportunity to present evidence.”

He touched a key on a small panel before him. On the wall to Northrop’s left, wainscoting slid aside.

A large split screen was revealed. They were looking into two other rooms elsewhere aboard the Invicta. In one, suitably asperged, were two hoary Tlixix. In the other there squatted two Artaxa.

“The specimens you see will represent the interests on the planet below,” the Commissioner went on. “We cannot, of course, arrange for all the species described as dehydrate to be present. The two individuals here were submitted by the tribe most opposed to the species claiming to be rulers of the planet.”

Shelley coughed nervously, and spoke.

“Before we proceed, my principals have a right to know how the Commission was apprised of the location of the Enterprise. Did this information come from anyone on the staff of Krabbe & Bouche, Partners? I cite Clause Fifteen of the statutes of Bonded Service. An act of disloyalty by a bondperson constitutes a felony. The Commission has a duty to disclose such felony if it has occurred.”

Krabbe waved a hand. “Leave it, Shelley. I can’t believe any of our people would do that.”

Joanita Serstos started in her seat and squealed. She was staring at Northrop.

“So that’s what you were doing in the communications room!” she declared.

Northrop’s heart fell. He looked back at her with feigned incomprehension.

She turned to the partners. “It was just as the survey team was going down. I caught Northrop coming out of the communications shack, where he had no right to be. He could have been sending a message!”

“That’s no proof of anything,” Krabbe protested mildly, a frown on his big face.

In a stony voice the Commissioner replied to Shelley. “I can confirm that the Enterprise transmitted details of its location while in this system, by anonymous voice. Voice analysis keyed out to one Roncie Reaul Northrop, awarded a doctorate in nuclear engineering by the University of Chicago.”

Amundsen paused, then added scathingly, “His subsequent career appears to have been undistinguished. Just the sort of drifter to end up with a gogetter firm.”

Krabbe looked stunned.

Joanita changed her tack. She looked piteously at Northrop. “Oh, Roncie, why didn’t you tell me?” she wailed. “We could have escaped from this dreadful life together!”

She clasped her hands imploringly and appealed to the Commissioner. “Can I talk to you in private, sir? It’s Krabbe and Bouche who are the real villains!”

Amundsen responded to the outburst with a patronising smile, his first sign of human feeling. He harrumphed and muttered an aside to one of his officials.

“I’ll make a note of that.”

Thanks a lot, Joanita, Roncie thought. He turned away from the glare of malice which Boris Bouche was directing at the two of them. The woman would obviously do anything to extract herself from an awkward situation, even if it meant betraying her sworn employers.

Amundsen resumed.