The Canopus Conundrum, page 4
There were a handful of other crew members working on the bridge, all of whom were equally reticent. They kept their heads down whilst Windwist chatted idly about the composition of the fleet. The area seemed run down and shabby, as well as being in need of a good clean. Kovis thought that Corporal Melas, who oversaw the maintenance of the Atria’s bridge, would be horrified if her domain resembled this one. Of course, the Canopus was a very old ship, but that really didn’t explain the dust webs dangling from the ceiling.
His sense of unease deepened when Saria Parker walked onto the bridge and glowered at him. He had no idea why the resort director didn’t like him, but she had been picking on him from the moment they’d met. He had pegged the woman as a social riser, the sort who would stab anybody in the back if it meant she could climb the ranks. According to the Atria’s knowledge banks, she’d been employed to oversee the resort a little over a year previously, having before that worked as a consultant in a small company on the planet Polar. There was no other information about her recorded.
He was surprised by how comfortable she appeared to be on the ship’s bridge. Not one member of the crew gave her an odd look, which suggested she was a regular visitor. Of course, the Canopus had to have been on a contract with the resort since it had been its regular supply ship, but it still seemed strange that the woman would be so at home at the heart of the vessel. But then, Kovis mused, he wasn’t accustomed to being on board a supply ship, and perhaps they did things differently.
Windwist continued to talk idly. At no point did he offer his visitor a seat, although he didn’t sit himself, so Kovis concluded he was just one of those people who preferred to stand. The colonel was surprised not to be asked any specific questions about the Atria or Admiral Nashira; he would have expected the captain to be interested in expanding his knowledge of both. Instead, Windwist turned again to poking gentle fun at the idea that the murals on his ship’s bulkheads might actually be accurate and important. There was one in the control room, taking up one face of the hexagonal outer walls, and over the captain’s shoulder Kovis considered it thoughtfully. Without a doubt, the system it depicted with surprising accuracy was the heart of the IUP and a sky he knew altogether too well. All Sol’s satellite planets, moons and asteroids appeared to be present and correct, and the night sky around them was a recognisable projection. The IUP headquarters platform was clearly depicted in position near their planet of origin. The only thing missing was the nine sets of paired substream gateways and their attendant wheel. It appeared that Ashwood might actually be on to something.
Parker, the colonel noticed, was standing with her arms folded next to Colonel Fulke, who had moved to lean over the shoulder of the ship’s navigator. The girl appeared young and seemed ill-at-ease having Fulke watching what she was doing. Parker was, as usual, glaring in Kovis’s direction.
The colonel found himself relieved when Glory returned. She had been gone exactly an hour, and he gave her an approving smile, but she simply saluted and stood silently. If anything, she seemed even more withdrawn than she had been before, and he sighed inwardly. This was going to be a very tedious assignment if he was surrounded by people who either thought he was amusing or simply didn’t like him.
“You’ll need a map to find your quarters.” Windwist nodded to one of his crew, who walked across to hand the colonel a paper print-out explaining the route.
“Paper?” Kovis said, a little blankly.
“Yes.” Windwist folded his arms. “I told you, Colonel, this is an old ship. We don’t have the kind of automated communications network that you have on your star cruiser.”
The colonel found himself wondering whether Windwist was sensitive because his ship was so old, and resolved to be nice to him about the fact it was still functioning perfectly, even if it could do with some freshening up. “Thank you,” he said. “And thank you again for allowing us on board your ship. I’ll try and keep our visit as short as possible to avoid inconveniencing you, and if there’s anything the Atria can do for you in return, please don’t hesitate to mention it.”
He picked up his bag, and he and Glory departed the bridge. The Canopus was a merchant ship, but of an early design with a continuous outer skin rather than having the central spine and pods favoured by the more recently designed ships. Compared to some merchants, it was large, but like all the vessels that sailed the substream, it was elongated and as a result rather ungainly in appearance. Looking at the map he’d been given, the interior appeared convoluted, and he guessed it had been the victim of numerous interior renovations over the years. With its multiplicity of shuttles, it had been an ideal vessel to supply the resort. It occurred to Kovis that they should be glad it had been in orbit when the evacuation had become necessary, as otherwise the resort employees and guests would have had to be evacuated by some other means.
Star cruisers were the largest ships in space. The Canopus, whilst small by comparison, was still extensive. As a supply ship, it carried a relatively small crew, most of its space given over to storage or temporary personnel accommodation. As a result of the evacuation, it was crammed with people, and as usual, Kovis found himself being stared at. He really couldn’t help his looks, he thought gloomily, and had long since stopped wishing for acne or a good scar. The corner of his mouth twitched as he thought about the way the Atria’s chief traffic controller looked at her match, who was the ship’s flight commander and Nashira’s son. Zaran had a disfiguring scar that ran from his eye down past his mouth and over his chin. It was very obvious Cristal thought he was the most handsome man in the universe, so presumably, a scar wouldn’t really have helped Kovis look less appealing.
It was the first time in years that the colonel hadn’t been working directly under Nashira’s command. Even though the Atria wasn’t very far away, it gave him a curious sense of freedom mixed with irrational guilt. To take his mind off it, he glanced at the silent prefect who paced by his side.
“Did you find your quarters, Prefect?” he asked.
The woman’s mouth drooped, and he wondered what he’d said wrong this time. “I did,” she said briefly.
He’d intended to ask whether they were satisfactory, but her expression stopped him. This was going to be a very tedious few days, he thought, if every time he spoke to her the prefect blanked him. Perhaps she was one of those planet dwellers who really disliked and resented the Elite.
Ideally, he would have liked to get her talking, not the least because she presented something of a puzzle. After she’d been assigned to him, he’d checked her record to ensure there were no issues of which he should be aware – dietary preferences, for example. He’d been surprised to discover that, whilst Rydon had been effusive about her previous experience as a full prefect and her scores in the law knowledge tests, he had failed to record her planet of origin, or where she had served, which was not necessarily the same thing. Out of interest, he’d checked all the other prefects Rydon had employed since the fleet had left Meridiana, and found that in all other cases, planet of origin and dates and locations of service were meticulously recorded. So, what was the mystery about Gloriana Duvall’s origins?
The ship appeared to have a confusing maze of passageways broken up by seemingly randomly located airtight doors. He was very grateful for the map he’d been given or he suspected it would have taken them a lot longer to get to their destination without stopping one or more of the glowering passers-by and asking for directions.
He noticed that the prefect was walking with a slight limp. He was aware that she had suffered a broken leg during an investigation, although the details of how that had occurred hadn’t been on her record either. According to Medwen’s note, it wasn’t the first time the woman had broken her right leg, although the previous occurrence had been some considerable time in the past. Medwen had noted that the bone had been fused, but there was still a weakness, and Medwen had advised light duties for the immediate future, which was one of the reasons Rydon had given for her appointment as the colonel’s assistant.
They reached the space allocated to him, one of a series of unmarked doors in a poorly lit corridor. Like the rest of the ship, it had a distinctly run down feel to it. After a moment’s hesitation, he twisted the old-fashioned handle and pushed open the door. He wasn’t surprised when it creaked. The room was small, with a desk and chair on one side and a camp bed on the other. “Lights,” he said, and was relieved when a round, rather grubby light set into the ceiling came on. Between the desk and the cot was an expanse of scratched metal flooring. The chair that was pushed into the well of the desk had casters, and when he gave it an experimental tug it, too, squealed in protest as it moved.
“I see I’ve been given the guest suite,” he said drily.
Glory gave him a slightly startled look and, he thought, was almost surprised into a smile. “I guess everywhere else was taken,” she said. “The ship’s pretty crowded.”
“I noticed,” he said. “And so very many of the people we passed weren’t wearing safesuits.”
“The guests at the resort were encouraged not to wear them.” Glory leant against the wall. “Although I’m sure any of them who were normally space-based would have had one in their luggage.”
“I never visited the resort,” he said. “Can you describe it to me?” He tugged the chair a little further out. “And may I offer you a seat? I’m guessing that leg is aching from all the walking.”
Glory hesitated, and then shrugged and sat down, folding her hands on her lap. He felt as if he was towering over her, and went to perch uncomfortably on the edge of the cot. “I’ll see if I can arrange for another chair,” he said. “If we’re working in here, that will be essential.”
“I’m sure Captain Windwist can find you something,” the prefect said. She shrugged again. “As for the resort ... it catered to a lot of different people, and there were a lot of different amusements. There were holo reality suites, of course, and the puzzle house … a maze ... a simulated art gallery ... the entertainment area, where there were re-enactments, dances and musical evenings ... and the casino, of course. I worked there,” she finished, lifting her head to give him a challenging glare.
“That must have been very interesting,” he said politely. Rydon had recorded that much, at least, along with a note that there may have been some escort duties involved. And how, he wondered, not for the first time, had a well–trained prefect ended up working at the resort on Meridiana pouring drinks and holding the hands of holidaying strangers?
“It was all right,” she said shortly.
“It was a popular resort, I believe?” Her attitude was really beginning to annoy him. It didn’t seem to matter how politely he spoke to her, she seldom showed any emotion.
She chewed her lip for a moment, and then said, “I suppose it may have been popular. I don’t have anything to compare it with. There was a steady stream of visitors. Sometimes things got a bit quiet, but mostly we were kept busy. And the Canopus crew always took shore leave with us.” She finally managed a faint smile, but it faded rapidly. “What’s the schedule for today, sir?” she asked. “How are we going to record these murals?”
And that was a definite attempt to change the subject. Kovis decided to go along with it. “We need to go through the ship systematically and record all the murals we can find,” he said. “In the meantime, I’m going to turn the ship’s schematics into a 3-D holo projection, if they aren’t one already. We can then upload the recordings of the wall art onto the projection to reflect where they’re located in the ship. There may be some pattern to the way they have been distributed. The control room has one of IUP central that looks very accurate.”
Glory blinked. “That’s interesting,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because the ship’s not registered to Sol,” she said. “I think Arron said it was registered to Bardek.”
Kovis raised an eyebrow and wondered whether his assistant realised she’d just referred to the Canopus’s captain by his first name. Was there some history there of which he should be aware? He hadn’t noticed any of the tension between them that he would have expected if they had a current relationship, but then again, he hadn’t really been looking. The prefect and the captain appeared to be of a similar age, and they could have met at the resort or on the ship after the evacuation of Meridiana. He decided it was probably none of his business.
“That is interesting,” he said instead, tapping his wristcom in an attempt to call up data and pulling a face when the expected holo failed to appear. “I can’t believe this ship doesn’t have a data network,” he muttered.
Glory actually smiled, and he thought the expression suited her, lighting up her face from its normal gloom. He wondered why, if she was so determined to be introverted and bluff, she dyed her hair quite such an astonishing shade of red. “Like the chief scientist said, it’s pretty old. I guess the networks weren’t as advanced back when this one was built.”
Kovis shook his head. “I’m sure they were – that’s why I’m so puzzled about it. I suppose it’s possible their net has broken down over time, but if that was the case I would’ve thought Captain Windwist would be chasing the Atria to look it over and see if it’s repairable. At any rate, not having instant access to information is ... irritating. Still,” he finished, rising to his feet, “I guess we’ll have to cope. Let’s make a start.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The next few days weren’t exactly thrilling. Glory had assumed that the task they had been assigned would take a day or two at the most, but she realised very quickly that she hadn’t done the math. Even after they’d found one of the pictures – and the ship’s confusing interior design didn’t help with that – scanning each of them with the technology built into a wristcom took some time. The colonel was patient and methodical, working his way systematically round the Canopus. Glory’s task was to ensure that each mural was fully visible, moving anything that obstructed it, and to talk inconsequentially with the people their activities disturbed. Some of those people were crew members, but more often they were resort staff sharing cramped quarters, or some of the resort visitors who remained on board. She was aware that at Resort Leader Parker’s insistence, many of the guests had been transferred to other ships in the fleet, and after a while she noticed something of a pattern – the visitors who were still on the ship seemed to be young and attractive.
It had been a running joke at the resort that the supply ship had a reputation for romancing the staff and visitors. Windwist’s crew had always seemed to spend their shore leave looking to start a relationship, with the result that the Canopus had been nicknamed the ‘ship of hearts’. She herself was guilty of having had a dalliance – with the captain. She found herself speculating that the remaining resort visitors might be those who had become enamoured of members of the ship’s crew.
Colonel Kovis treated her politely, and she found herself beginning to regret her anger at him for his badly timed test broadcast which had resulted in her broken leg. He worked long hours, but was meticulous about ensuring that they took regular breaks. They had been invited by Windwist to eat in the crew’s mess, which at least gave Glory a break from having to deal with most of her old acquaintances. And much to her relief, Kovis hadn’t asked her any further questions about her past.
He didn’t talk about himself, either, which she found initially refreshing, and then increasingly annoying. She began to feel as if she was working for an automaton, someone who had no hobbies, no interests, no past – nothing except the task he was undertaking at that moment in time. They discussed the limited choice of foodstuffs available, and the need for more hydroponics space. Kovis mused idly about increasing the stock of chickens, and where in the fleet they might find the quarters to keep them. They might sacrifice some of the gravity ball courts, he observed, but there again the game was one of the few activities enjoyed by all sections of their mixed population. When she asked, he told her what little was known about the blobs and space whales that had caused the evacuation of Meridiana and their current plight, but he didn’t speculate as to their origins. He talked also about Flight Lieutenant Zaran and how courageous he thought it had been for Admiral Nashira’s son to give the order to close the substream. He’d paused at the end of that as if expecting her to have something to say about being cut off from her friends and family; she had said nothing, reluctant to explain to him that there was nobody she missed and that she had no great desire to return to the space claimed by the Interstellar Union of Planets.
She wondered, whilst moving an overflowing linen basket away from a mural showing a group of stars and several small planets, whether the colonel had noticed that in addition to her failure to mention any family or friends from whom she was now isolated, nobody from the resort seemed pleased to see her. She hadn’t really had any close friends on Meridiana, apart from Tegwen, and as she’d expected that particular friendship was well and truly over. Her old friend now seemed besotted with Areta, and the third inhabitant of their shared quarters, Egil, had greeted her with a torrent of abuse. “So all along you were spying on us? Prefect! Well, you can take your fancy uniform and your taser and shove them, and when we get back to Union space, you’d better watch your back. One word of what you know about us and ...” He drew his finger descriptively across his throat.
So, between two of her cohabitants spending what seemed like all night making up to each other, and the third threatening to kill her, not to mention her tendency to be a light sleeper anyway, Glory had pretty much given up on any hope of getting a decent night’s sleep whilst on board the Canopus. In fact, after the first couple of nights she stopped bothering going back to her assigned quarters, spending her off-duty watches either in the ship’s small library or tucked away in a relatively quiet corner somewhere, trying to at least doze for a while. At the start of the next day, she would queue for a fresher with the evacuees before reporting to Kovis’s office.
