Gene Wolfe - Home Fires

“Oh you gods!”

“Correct. Virginia is the senior member. It’s the others’ duty to kill her, and Susan came to do it.” Skip rose. “That was why those two young women died. Which was what you wanted to know. Have you heard enough?”

“She joined the ring before you dumped her?”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, and I’d like to. I could offer three or four guesses, but they would be of no value to you or anyone. Guesses rarely are. If you find out, will you tell me?”

“That will depend on what the reason is,” Dr. Ueda said.

* * *

The first-class dining salon was a paradise of gold and ivory three decks high, with opulent balconies for A and B Decks. “We’re to meet another couple,” Skip explained. “An elderly man with a beard, and your social director. Have they come already?” He was stiff and sweating in dinner jacket, formal shirt, and black tie.

The headwaiter awarded him a superior smile. “I really wouldn’t know, sir. Their reservation would be under the name of…?”

Chelle said, “Blue.”

“Healy,” Skip announced firmly. “It should be in the name of your social director, Virginia Healy.”

“Blue,” the headwaiter said. He was looking at his screen. “Table for four. Follow me, please.”

Table seventeen was near an open window and well away from the kitchen, the piano, and the center of the room. At present, it was unoccupied. Skip held Chelle’s chair (outpointing the headwaiter) before taking a seat himself. “I thought this was your mother’s party.”

“It is. She must’ve made the reservation in my name.”

“You said ‘Blue.’ ”

“Right. She told me that.” Chelle looked thoughtful. “Maybe it’s because she works here. Maybe employees can’t make them.”

It seemed best to change the subject. “How is your arm?”

“Lots better. I know what you’re worried about, and we can. Just as long as you don’t grab my arm, we should be fine.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” Skip said.

“Uh huh.”

He changed the subject. “I passed out, didn’t I? I fainted. We were in that stateroom on A Deck—in Jerry Brice’s stateroom where Rick Johnson had been shot—and I must have lost consciousness. Did I fall down?”

Chelle nodded.

“But you were conscious. You saw and heard whatever went on afterward.”

“Sure.”

“What did? Will you tell me about it? Please?”

“Sure, but there isn’t a lot to tell. With two good arms I could’ve picked you up and helped carry you back to the doctor, but with one arm busted there was no way. I phoned, and she sent up two guys with a stretcher. They carried you back down to the infirmary, and I went with them. The doctor checked you over, said you needed a CAT scan, and kept you there overnight. They can’t do CAT scans here.”

Skip nodded.

“Next day she called and said there wasn’t anything she could do there that couldn’t be done in our room. I got Joe and Angel to carry you, and Achille and I went down with them. The doctor told me how to take care of you and promised people would come around.” Chelle paused. “They have, sometimes. We thought—I think everybody thought—you’d still be out when we docked.”

“I’m trying to remember who was present when I lost consciousness for the second time. Was your mother there?”

“No. I think it was just that mechanic and me. There was nobody in the cabin when we got there.”

“Where was your mother?”

“I don’t know.” Chelle shrugged. “Does it matter?”

A waiter asked whether they were ready to order. Skip explained that they were waiting for another couple, and Chelle ordered a bottle of champagne.

“The man with the beard shot Rick Johnson,” Skip said when the waiter had gone.

“Right.” Chelle nodded. “He grabbed the woman’s gun. I told the captain about it.”

“Rick blew when he was shot. He was a cyborg.”

“I remember you saying something about that. I guess the bullet hit his reactor or whatever.”

“Not necessarily, but that’s not to the point. The flash burned Trinity. She fell down, and you and Virginia went to help her.”

Chelle nodded again.

“She’s a big woman, and you couldn’t get her on her feet. Gary Oberdorf and I got her up with your help and walked her to the elevator. I believe I can name all the people who were on that elevator with us. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Your memory’s probably better than mine,” Chelle said. “Who do you think?”

“Gary Oberdorf, Jerry, and Trinity herself.”

“You’re right. I’d forgotten the kid, but he was there.”

“Who wasn’t there?” Skip’s forefinger doodled on the immaculate table cloth.

“Everybody else in the world. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Who wasn’t on the elevator whom you would expect to be there?”

There was a long silence. The champagne arrived, Skip sampled it and nodded, and the waiter poured a glass for each of them. Chelle sipped hers twice before she spoke. “Mother. Mother wasn’t there.”

Skip nodded.

“When Rick blew up, he was damn near in Trinity’s face. She got burned. Her clothes were on fire a little bit. Remember?”

“No,” Skip said. “I’d forgotten that.”

“They were, smoking and a little flame. Mother and I had to slap them out. So Trinity was hurt pretty bad, and we were worried about her.” Chelle hesitated. “Trinity was on that elevator going to the doctor.”

“So were you. On the elevator, I mean.”

“Yeah, I was. I’m her daughter and those spies had been holding me. Did you know they were spies?”

“I guessed it.”

“Good for you. Someday you’re going to have to tell me how. But they’d been holding me, her daughter, and she’d been helping you look for me. Is that right? Or were you helping her?”

“I enlisted her help.”

“So why wasn’t she with me? And Trinity? Why wasn’t she there with us?”

“Because she didn’t want to be, obviously.”

Chelle put down her glass. “You’re going to have to explain that. I think somebody grabbed her.”

Skip sighed. “And I think that’s rubbish. Shall we quarrel?”

“No. I’d win, but what good would that do? Why wasn’t she grabbed?”

“Who was in that room with you before we came? Name them.”

“I don’t know the blonde’s name. Maybe somebody told me once, but I’ve forgotten.”

“Susan.”

“Okay, she was there. Rick, of course, and the guy with the white whiskers.”

“Now it’s my turn. When our party started up to A Deck, it consisted of Achille, Oberdorf, Jerry, your mother, and me. Rick shot me as soon as the door opened. Achille was gone when I recovered consciousness. Do you know anything about that?”

“I don’t think I even saw him.”

“Then I have another question, one I think you can answer. Why is this a table for four?”

“The captain?”

Skip shook his head. “Your mother talked to me on your phone in our stateroom. Remember? She asked me, quite specifically, not to mention the captain during dinner.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No. I named the people who came with me. When the stateroom door opened, who was in there? I remember nothing after that, but you had been in there for some time. Who were they?”

“Susan. I said that.”

Skip nodded.

“Plus Rick, the old man, and me.”

“That was what I had assumed; all four of you were present when I returned to consciousness. When we left to take Trinity to the doctor, Jerry and Gary Oberdorf went with us. Rick was dead. Susan was in the lavatory slicing her arms with broken glass.”