Charles Sheffield - Starfire

Suddenly I was wide awake. Argument by analogy can be dangerous, but it can also be fruitful. In our quest to catch the Sky City murderer, Seth and I had so far acted passively. We were the equivalent of the old search-and-rescue system. Like it, we could not succeed unless a signal was transmitted: The killer must initiate an unprompted action.

That was not about to happen. Our murderer did not need to kill again and would do nothing.

Passive procedure would not suffice. Like the modern search-and-rescue operation, we had to move to an active approach. We must generate a signal able to force a reaction. The murderer must be made to respond to a stimulus created by us.

I put on the RV helmet and called Seth Parsigian. At last I had something that could fairly be termed an emergency.

He was wearing the hidden earphone, and answered at once with, “This better be good, Doc. I’ve been digging into Sky City operations, lookin’ for odd stuff that might point to the killer.”

“Did you discover anything?”

“No.” His voice seemed to have an added delay. Sky City was on the move outward from Earth. “But I’m finding somethin’ else that’s interestin’ in the data records.”

“Events relevant to the Sky City murders?”

“If they are, I don’t see how.”

“Then they can wait. I know of a way to flush our murderer out of hiding.”

I described my thoughts on active versus passive procedures, and I made my proposal.

Seth was silent for a long time. I wished I could see his face, but apparently he was not in his room. I was offered the usual annoying view of an empty apartment. The RV jacket must be hanging in its usual position on the wall.

“You’re makin’ some awful big assumptions,” he said at last. “Yeah, Doris Wu’s body is still missing. But how do you know it was chucked out into space?”

“It’s been over six months since she vanished.”

“It was close to that for Lucille DeNorville, and she still turned up.”

“I have explained why it was necessary for the murderer that Lucille’s body not be permanently lost. That argument does not apply to Doris Wu. And remember where Doris disappeared: level hundred, at the Sky City perimeter. You yourself offered the suggestion that she had been murdered and dropped out into space. Dump her outside, you said, and centrifugal force would carry her out and away. And you commented that would be pretty risky if any evidence had been left on her.”

“We got no reason to think it was.”

“I doubt very much that the murderer was so careless. But we are operating here at the level of doubt and psychology, not proven fact. Suppose that you were the murderer. You feel somewhat secure, comfortable in the knowledge that months have passed without threat of discovery. Now comes the news: The body of one of your victims has been found out in space. All the others are accounted for, so this is the last possible source of danger to you. Would you not feel an intense urge to confirm that no physical evidence links you to that newly discovered body?”

“I would. But suppose I knew that Doris Wu’s body wasn’t in space? Suppose I knew that I’d done some-thin’ else with her-chopped her up, or burned her. Maybe I ate her.”

“This situation is disgusting enough without your adding to it. If you, as murderer, know that Doris Wu is not in space, then you also know that the report of her discovery is bogus. My plan would fail.”

“I think it will anyway. It sounds real dodgy to me.”

“Feel free to offer an alternative.”

“You got me there. All right, I guess we try it. But we need some help from people up here.”

“That is your department, not mine.”

“I know a way we might work it. But we can’t do it yet. We hafta wait a few days ’til things settle down a bit on Sky City. Until we’re out at the end of the shield nobody has time for anythin’ but work.”

“How long?”

“A couple of weeks. But we’ll get bigger signal delays.”

“That is inevitable and acceptable. Before we act we must discuss the fine details.”

“Why not now?”

“Because I have yet to think the matter through. This may be our only chance to catch the murderer, and we cannot afford to act precipitately.” I prepared to end the conversation, but I was struck by one more thought. “I am receiving a useless visual feed from your apartment. Why do you not wear the RV jacket?”

“For three reasons. First, if you’re not sitting there with the helmet on, an’ mostly you’re not, there’s no point in me sendin’ back scenes of me doin’ the grand tour of Sky City when nobody’s watchin’. Second, it’s damn hot inside that thing.”

“It is also hot inside this helmet. And the third reason?”

He hesitated. “It’s them godawful pansy colors. Pink ’n’ purple — who chose ’em? I had four guys hittin’ on me in the first two days.”

He broke the connection prematurely, leaving me filled with esprit d’escalier. “ It is not the jacket, Seth, it is merely your native charm that attracted them.” Or “I’m sure they told you that the colors contrast beautifully with your eyes.”

Yes, yes. Cheap wit, unworthy of me. Also, in the case of Seth, not without its dangers. I have commented already on his sense of self-preservation. To that let me add his air of latent violence. Far better Seth Parsigian as an ally than an adversary. I must never forget my own vulnerability.

I am sitting half asleep in my chair, gradually becoming comatose after a long day; but tomorrow’s imagined news lead drifts through my mind:

Sky City Killer Caught Thanks to Efforts of Determined Pair

Two men, Seth Parsigian and Oliver Guest, today captured the long-sought Sky City murderer. Seth Parsigian receives a large reward and the thanks of a grateful world. Serial killer and legendary ghoul Oliver Guest goes back tomorrow to continue his sentence of long-term judicial sleep.

On her previous meetings with Seth Parsigian, Maddy had found him totally focused. This evening he was morose and distracted. Although he was the one who had insisted on the get-together, he acted like a man who had other things on his mind.

Well, so had she. With every hour that passed, the value of her prized position as Vice President of the Argos Group faded in importance. Gordy Rolfe seemed less the inspired electronics designer and organizing genius behind a huge international corporation, and more the eccentric and unkempt taskmaster who expected work from his minions twenty-four hours a day.

Those minions apparently included Seth Parsigian. As Sky City wound its slow way out toward its new position, Maddy had made a dozen visits to the engineering information center. She was looking for John Hyslop, but he was never there. Maddy learned that he spent most of his time out at Cusp Station, where the new particle defense system was under construction. The person who was always there, night or day, was Seth. He could usually be found studying a screen displaying scheduled meetings of personnel, timetables for equipment procurement, and recent use of facilities in Sky City and on the shield. If he hoped to pull out of those bald statistics useful information relating to the Sky City murderer, then good luck to him. Maddy felt sure that over the past six months the records had been dissected infinitely finely by scores of investigators.

When Seth arrived in her room he had a strange expression on his face. Was he still mad because their Sky City wanderings had produced no useful result? He should know, as well as anyone, the golden rule of the Argos Group when it came to cooperation: Your own assignment came first. Someone else’s success would not balance your failure. If he couldn’t find what he wanted, that was his problem.