Звезда Пандоры

Visually it was difficult to see its true size, there were no reference points. The surface was a hard pearl-white plastic that glowed from within. Little points of light sparkled away inside it, traveling slowly. Justine always had the impression of being inside some giant photonic processor.

Once the door was closed, the three of them looked like they’d been superimposed inside a blank hologram projection. Curved chairs morphed up out of the floor, shaped like sculpted beanbags. Their internal glow changed from neutral to a faint copper, allowing them to be seen. After they’d all sat down, the tinge faded away.

“I’m appointing Paula to the Senate Security service,” Gore announced. “She’s to have department head status; you’ll have to clear it.”

“I see,” Justine said peacefully. “And why is that?”

“Your brother’s murder was committed by someone connected with the case I’ve been working on,” Paula said.

“Johansson, you mean? I don’t wish to be critical, particularly now, but you’ve been working on that case for quite a while now. That was the reason Rafael Columbia dismissed you, wasn’t it? Lack of results.”

“Columbia is a fucking asshole,” Gore said. “We’re going to have to watch him. That little shit won’t be satisfied until he’s crowned emperor.”

Justine gave Paula a level gaze. “He does have a point, though. You had nearly a hundred and forty years.”

“The case involved a lot more than the Great Wormhole Heist,” Paula said. “I always knew Johansson was being protected by someone inside the Senate or the executive. Your brother confirmed that for me. Then he was murdered.”

“Who murdered him?”

“I don’t know. The assassin is an unknown operative. Nor do I know who he works for, although I have my suspicions.”

“Who?” Justine growled.

“The Starflyer.”

After the anticipation, Justine fell back into the chair, disgusted. “For God’s sake!”

“I believe it,” Gore said.

“Dad! You cannot be serious?”

“We were played by an absolute expert. I knew there was something suspicious about putting the navy package together. It was too fucking easy. Someone else had been laying the political groundwork.”

“Garbage. Nobody knew we’d have a need for a navy until the Second Chance returned. I’m still not entirely convinced myself. We only got involved for the contracts.”

“Damn right. That’s our motivation: naked greed, the fear of being poor, unprotected, not in control. It knows us very well, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Justine shook her head. “What did my brother tell you?” she asked Paula.

“I have been asking for an inspection on all goods shipped to Far Away for decades. If I could nail down the arms shipments, it would help me solve the Johansson case permanently. Your brother found out that Nigel Sheldon has been preventing it.”

“That’s… that’s…” Justine turned to her father, appealing. “You can’t believe this?”

“Why can’t the Starflyer exist?” he asked her in return.

“The Institute on Far Away would have found it.”

“According to Johansson, they did,” Paula said. “He was the director, remember?”

“I know he was,” she said wryly. Her thoughts had slipped back to the sunny glade in the forest where her hyperglider had landed. Dear, sweet Kazimir’s utter conviction in his mad cause. “All right, just assume this alien does exist, and Nigel Sheldon is working for it, or has been taken over by it, or whatever. How does that get Thompson murdered?”

“Because he finally pushed through the inspection,” Paula said. “I only just realized the relevance myself last night; but keeping the Far Away route open and free of any official interference has been something of a devil’s alliance for the two factions. The Guardians want it so they can smuggle their weapons back there. The Starflyer wants it so that it can return.”

“Return? You mean to its ship?” Justine asked.

“Yes. That’s what the Guardians believe, that when it has ruined the Commonwealth it will go back.”

“Why? The ship’s a wreck, the planet is half dead. I know, I’ve been there.” She caught it: shift of the eyes, change of breathing pattern, a dozen other indiscreet indicators. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Justine had been a player for three and a half centuries, dealing with master-class politicians and corporate lords. To her, body language was a million-watt telepathic broadcast. And that last statement had just turned her into Paula Myo’s newest suspect.

“Nobody understands its motivation,” Paula said. “Except perhaps Johansson. And I wouldn’t consider him reliable even if he turns out to be right in the end. All we have to go on is the Guardians’ propaganda. They claim it intends to return.”

“And you think that’s what got my brother murdered?”

“He put an obstacle in its way.”

Justine gave her father a long look, seeing a curved image of herself in his smooth golden mirror face. His silence made it obvious whose side he was on here. “So how does appointing you to Senate Security help find the murderer?”