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Authors: Charles Sheffield

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Short Stories, #Fiction

Hidden Variables (40 page)

BOOK: Hidden Variables
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SUMMERTIDE

"Genocide?" My tone showed my disbelief.

Governor Wethel shrugged his shoulders at me in an embarrassed way and turned to his companion without trying to answer me.

"Perhaps you should explain this, Dr. Rebka."

"I intend to." Rebka was a small, thin man, with sharp grey eyes and a long, mournful mouth. His voice was dry and even, with just a trace of accent to reveal that he had not been raised in our System. "Cooperation from both of you will be essential, and I know that I could not command it here for any ordinary crime. Did Governor Wethel tell you where this journey began?"

I nodded. Wethel had time for that and for little else when he had linked through from Cloudside, to tell me that he was flying over, top priority, with a visitor.

"I understand that you were on Lasalle—Delta Pavonis Four. I wondered what a Section Moderator could be doing there. All it has are marshes and Zardalu."

"Not quite right." Moderator Rebka's voice had become flatter yet. "All that Lasalle has now are marshes. The Zardalu are extinct. The last surviving members—two lodges—died two Earth-months ago. The people who killed them escaped from the Pavonis System long before I got there, but I have been able to trace them through four jumps. To here."

I took another look at Sector Moderator Rebka. For the first time, I stared hard at the symbols on the gold cluster fixed to the sleeve of his black jacket. Inside the main pattern was a tiny seven-pointed star. Why hadn't Wethel told me that Rebka belonged to the Species Protection Council? He might be polite enough to ask for our cooperation, but if Rebka wanted to he could do just about anything he liked—including taking over my job or Governor Wethel's.

I looked again at him, but I could see little sign of the exceptional qualities that his position suggested. He was still the same short, thin stranger, with an unimpressive voice and carriage. Now for the real question: what could Rebka's visit here, over on Quakeside, have to do with his search? All the administration of Dumbbell was back over on Cloudside, where he had just come from. They had the police headquarters, the inter-system coordination, and the only interstellar spaceport. I began to feel uneasy. It was less than twenty Days to summertide maximum, and I had no time to spare for visitors, no matter what their mission.

The other two were still looking at me, waiting for my response to Rebka's information. I shrugged.

"I'm shocked to hear about the Zardalu, but I don't see how I can help you. The people who killed them came to Dumbbell, I'm prepared to believe that. But they'll be over on Cloudside, not here. As Governor Wethel could have told you, we have no place for them to hide on Quakeside—all our towns are too small, and the land is all monitored. Are you sure that they landed on Egg at all? Suppose they took off again and were hiding out near Perling?"

Looking at Rebka's baffled expression, I realized my mistake. His accent was slight, but it was clear that he didn't know this System—the names were missing him completely.

All the reference texts outside the System tell the inquirer that Eta Cassiopeiae A has the double planet, Dobelle. It was named after the captain of the ship that made the first scout survey. The components of Dobelle, the twins of the planetary doublet, were logically named Ehrenknechter and Castelnuovo-Kryszkoviak, after the other two men on the scout ship. The records don't tell us how long the first settlers struggled with those jaw-breakers, but well before I was born the two components had been renamed Quake and Egg, and no one in the System ever used their official names—except for formal outside communications. And as soon as the connecting umbilical went in between the two, the name of the planet pair, Dobelle, had naturally slid over into Dumbbell. Only Perling, the gas-giant planet that circled Eta-Cass A seven hundred million kilometers out, had managed to hold on to its original name—probably because no one ever went there.

Governor Wethel jumped into the conversation again, putting all the names I had used back into their official forms. When he had finished, I got another hard look from Rebka and a shake of the head.

"No. They did not go to Perling." He sat down in the chair over by the curved window, his manner stiff and serious. "Please assume that I know how to do at least a part of my job, Captain Mira. Before I came to Dobelle I checked that the fugitives were neither near Perling, nor out by the dwarf companion."

I nodded. I couldn't see anybody trying to hide near Eta-Cass B, there was nothing there but a few orbiting chunks of rock. "But what makes you think they landed here on Egg?"

"No doubt about it," chipped in Wethel. "I looked at the landing records when Moderator Rebka called me. I found we had a jump ship land at Cloudside, twenty Days ago—and it's still there."

"But its passengers are not," said Rebka. "They landed on the other side of this planet—Cloudside?—and they are not there now."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ID pack. "Two people were involved in the death of the Zardalu. They were visitors to Delta Pavonis Four, first-time visitors on their way from Peacock A to Sol. They stayed there only one day. Have you seen anyone who looks like this over here in your area? Within the past twenty Days?"

I flicked on the ID pack and looked into it. I had a sudden shock of false recognition. For the first moment, the young woman who smiled at me from the pack was Amy—my Amy.

I looked on, and the thrill faded. The obvious differences were there—how had I failed to see them at once?—and they brought me back to normal. The young woman I was looking at was older than Amy, and she wore a deep tan that no one ever acquired on the cloudy side of Egg. It must have been her clothes—clothes that matched Amy's preference exactly. Dark green and russet, cut low off the smooth shoulders and matching her auburn hair. That, and perhaps something in the smiling eyes, a message of life and laughter that carried through the impersonality of the ID display.

After a few seconds I realized that I had to speak. Rebka was looking at me, and into me, in a way that had to be avoided. I stared back into his eyes and shook my head.

"I don't know her—but if she had been here, I assure you that I would have noticed. Surely this isn't one of the criminals?"

He nodded his head slowly, eyes still locked on mine. "I am afraid that she is. You are looking at Elena Carmel. She, together with her sister, killed the Zardalu."

I couldn't imagine it. Not someone who looked so young and vulnerable herself.

"Could it have been an accident?" I peered again into the depths of the ID image. "I thought that the Zardalu were still in a probationary state—marginally intelligent."

"They were. It could well have been an accident."

"But you still accuse them of genocide—when the Zardalu may not have even been covered by the Species Protection Act."

"Of course." He sighed. "Isn't my position obvious to you? Most of the Zardalu were killed before their potential intelligence was recognized. Killed by humans. A human Moderator is assigned to this investigation—perhaps that was a wrong decision, but it was made. Don't you see that I am obliged to assume the worst? There must be no suspicion on the part of any other Council Member that I sought to cover a crime—even a potential crime—by one of my own species. That would mean the end of the Council. But apart from that, I would pursue them anyway. The death of the Zardalu must be investigated, even though nothing that I do can ever bring them back. They are gone forever."

Rebka's voice was bitter. He was that rarest of all humankind, a man who felt as strongly about the protection of non-humans as he did about his own kind. I was beginning to realize what it took to be a member of the Species Protection Council.

"Do you have an ID pack for the other sister?" I said, breaking a long silence that made us all uncomfortable, but which no one seemed willing to end.

"Of course." Rebka shrugged. "I will show it to you, but it will do no good. If you did not recognize Elena Carmel, you will not recognize Jilli Carmel. They are identical twins."

He handed me a second ID pack. The features were identical, that was undeniable. Yet there were differences, ways in which I thought I would know them apart—and I don't mean the superficial things, such as the styling of the auburn hair. Jilli Carmel had a slightly different expression, a trifle less confident and extrovert than her sister. Reluctantly, I handed it back to him.

"I don't know her. You and Governor Wethel seem confident that they are not on Cloudside. I'm at least as sure that they aren't here, on Quakeside. So where does that leave us? Wherever they are, it's not anywhere on Egg."

"He means anywhere on Ehrenknechter," explained Wethel, then bit his Up.

Rebka had frozen him with a look. Wethel passed it on to me, as a grimace of disgust—self-disgust. He had already explained once to Rebka that the twin planets had been re-named, and the Moderator was not wearing an Ampak at wrist or throat. That meant that he was undoubtedly a mnemonist, with perfect recall—but Klaus Wethel had unfortunately made that deduction a fraction of a second
after
he had spoken.

I gave him a consoling wink, as Rebka went on, "I agree with you. They are not here on Egg. Six Days ago—two Earth-days—they left this planet and went across to your companion world. They are now on Castelnuovo-Kryszkoviak—if you prefer it, on Quake."

He smiled this time at Wethel, to take the edge off his words.

"Never," I said abruptly. Klaus Wethel looked horrified, that I should be so terse with a Sector Moderator, but Rebka did not seem at all perturbed.

"And why not?" he said. "I had a good look at the other component of this doublet as we were flying in for our approach to the Dobelle System. It is almost wholly undeveloped, is it not? I have no doubt that the Carmel sisters believe that they can hide there safely, perhaps until I am called away for other duties."

I looked over at my calendar and shook my head. Eighteen Days—six Earth-days—to summer maximum. I felt sick inside, a heavy feeling of nausea that the situation could not justify. The ID packs had upset me more than I would have thought possible. I looked back at Rebka, sitting upright and serious in my visitor's chair.

"What is the Species Protection Council punishment for genocide?"

He looked uncomfortable. No one with his degree of empathy for other beings could feel happy at the discussion of penalties.

"The maximum punishment?" he said at last. "For proven intent, which I hope we will not find to be the case here, it would be third level rehabilitation."

He caught my questioning look.

"Erasure," he went on. "In a bad case, of all adult memories."

I nodded. "But never death, even in the worst cases? Even if they acted with full knowledge of their crime?"

Now he looked as sick as I felt. He swallowed and stared off into space, unable to meet my gaze. Klaus Wethel gave me an angry glare.

"No," said Rebka at last. "Excuse me. I had forgotten that many things are different on the frontier planets. The idea of death as punishment is not completely unfamiliar to me, but it is still not something that I can regard without discomfort. It has not been practised in—other places"—I felt that he had almost said civilized places—"for many years."

"Then I'm afraid I must give you information that will make you unhappier yet," I said. I pressed the button that would make the big dome above our heads move to transparency. "Elena and Jilli Carmel must have had the same impression of Quake as you did, that it is an undeveloped area where they could remain in safe seclusion. But if they are on Quake now, and stay there, then it doesn't matter if they are guilty of genocide, or as innocent as you are—they're dead, both of them, within a few Days."

The dome had become completely transparent. I felt sorry for Wethel, with his severe agoraphobia and acrophobia—I was hitting him with both of them at once, but I had to do it. I saw him, as though against his will, slowly turning his head to look upward. He knew what he was going to see, but he couldn't force himself not to look.

It was just past the middle of Second-night on Egg, and as usual at this time of the year the night sky over Quakeside was clear. Directly above us, fully illuminated, hung the bright orb of Quake itself. The building we were in was not far from the center of Quakeside, at the pole of Egg closest to Quake. We were only about twelve thousand kilometers away from the other planet's surface. From where we sat it filled more than thirty-five degrees of the sky, like a great mottled fruit, purple-grey and overripe. It was easy to imagine that it was ready to fall on us. I saw Rebka follow Governor Wethel's reluctant upward look, and flinch when he saw our sister planet.

"Steady," I said. "Don't get alarmed by the way it looks. You know the dynamics as well as I do." I was really speaking for Rebka's benefit—nothing I said could make it any easier for Wethel, he had heard all the logical arguments before and they hadn't helped. "Remember, sir," I went on. "Quake and Egg have been playing roundabouts like this, circling each other this way, for nearly half a billion years. They won't decide to collide tonight for your benefit."

It helped me to know that Rebka had something else on his mind other than seeing through my own psychological defenses. And it said something for the man that he didn't let that first sight of Quake in the sky unnerve him for more than a few seconds. He seemed to focus himself inwards, then dragged his eyes back from the zenith and frowned at me.

"That's an impressive sight. No wonder you keep the dome opaque most of the time. But what do you mean, the Carmel sisters are dead?" He couldn't be distracted from his main interest for long. "I looked at Quake through high power scopes," he went on, "as we were flying in. It didn't just look undeveloped, it looked like a garden planet. Are you telling me that there are dangerous life forms there?"

"Nothing that you couldn't handle with a hand weapon—and nothing that's dangerously poisonous, either. But Quake's a death trap at this time of the year." I swung the big telescope across towards us and switched on the viewing screen. "Take a look at it for yourself. Compare it with what you saw when you looked a few days ago. Can you see any differences?"

BOOK: Hidden Variables
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