Mark Tiedemann - Chimera

What is it about a Settler colony that would spook an ex-cop like that? His mention of Nova Levis had disturbed Wenithal. If he was part of a baley-running scheme, it might make sense. And if Nova Levis was the name that rattled him, then maybe he was the contact Nyom went through, in which case Coren would visit him again.

He dozed on the short ride, uneasily, the image of Nyom dangling broken-necked from the ceiling of that bin an unwelcome intrusion.

He tucked the earpiece of his portable comm in his left ear and keyed his office. The Desk answered.

"I want you to search police files for the case logs of Wenithal, Ree. Especially his last few cases and anything that might relate to baleys and baley running. Anything on Yuri Pocivil?" he asked sotto voce.

"Public records search positive result," the Desk reported. "Pocivil, Yuri. Immigrant, work-pass issued six years ago. Originally from the Settler colony Cassus Thole. Resident of Petrabor District for the last four years. Employee of Improvo Shipping and Storage, Petrabor branch, last three years eight months. Current status, indefinite sickleave. Current location unknown. "

Sick leave. Dead more likely, Coren thought sourly. He said, "Is there an image attached?"

"Yes, sir."

"Forward all this to Sipha Palen on Kopernik Station and continue search, locate. Any new messages?"

"New message from Myler Towne. Do you wish to hear it?"

"No. File." He hesitated. Then: "Make an appointment for me to see my physician, earliest convenience. End link." He plucked the earpiece out and tucked it back in the slot on the side of his comm.

Yuri Pocivil was a settler. Unusual for them to return to Earth. Unless he had been born on Cassus Thole and thought Earth had more to offer. It was easy to forget that the entire Settler program was less than two centuries old, with so many emigrants leaving Earth all the time.

He wondered who owned Improvo Shipping and Storage… Rega Looms' entourage filled two floors of the Banil-Holbro, in the center of the theater district in Delfi. Coren stepped off the walkway directly onto the broad plaza fronting the polished false stone-and-gilt facade of the hotel.

Two of Coren's people stood just inside talking to the bellcaptain. Their laughter seemed distant and muffled in the lobby.

Both of them straightened when they saw Coren.

"Boss," Shola said. "Back from vacation?"

"No, don't worry, I'm not back yet," Coren said. "Where's Rega?"

The other one-New man, Coren thought for a moment. What's his name? Lukas-came up alongside him and they walked a few paces from the bellcaptain.

"Mr. Looms is in room four-ninety-one, sir."

"Thanks, Lukas. Everything copacetic? Any problems?"

"Other than lack of sleep?" Lukas smiled wanly.

Coren laughed. "That's what overtime pay was invented for," he said and walked away, toward the elevators.

Two more of his people waited in the hallway outside room four-ninety-one. They greeted him with silent nods. Coren knocked on the door and entered.

Rega Looms sat on the edge of a chair, staring at a datum screen on the table between him and Lio Top, his campaign manager. A spread of fruit and vegetables covered a sideboard, next to a big samovar.

Lio looked up first. "Hi, Coren," she said. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

"My compulsiveness is bothering me," he said, choosing a carrot from the tray. " Just wanted to see how things were going. Or not. "

Rega Looms continued to focus on the datum. "Hello, Coren. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be with you in a few minutes. "

Coren wandered to the far end of the room and sat down in a too-soft armchair. He ate his carrot without really tasting it. Now that he was here, in Rega's presence, he felt anxious.

"First thing in the morning," he heard Looms say finally.

Lio stood. Rega Looms closed the datum and rubbed his eyes.

"Six, then?" Lio asked.

Looms nodded. "That will be fine. Thank you, Lio."

She cast Coren a sympathetic look. "G'night, Coren." Coren's heartbeat kicked up a notch.

"Coren," Rega said. "Come sit down here."

Coren's legs felt leaden, but he took the seat vacated by Lio and made himself look at Rega Looms.

Too much of Nyom there, he thought, wincing.

"My daughter, " Looms said.

Until this moment Coren had given no thought to what he intended to tell Rega. He justified-excused-this lapse by telling himself that he had yet to accept the facts. But that was facile, a diversion to keep himself from acknowledging the truth, that it hurt to say the words and it would hurt more to see his own reaction mirrored in Rega.

"She's dead, Rega."

Rega sat back as if slapped. He did not look at Coren, but stared at a point midway between them, eyes locked in place. He closed them slowly and his mouth opened wordlessly.

Coren's ears began to hum in the silence.

"How?" Rega asked, a faint whisper.

"I don't have all the details. She was running baleys and went with the last bunch. They all turned up dead on Kopernik Station."

"You didn't prevent her?"

"How was I supposed to do that?"

Rega's eyes snapped open and focussed on Coren. "I pay you to know how to manage those details. "

"Dragging her out was my only option. Not feasible."

Rega did not look away, but the rage drained slightly from his face. Finally, he nodded.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I need a few days to find out why and who. I can keep it out of the newsnets that long, but you better be prepared for it to hit. If I come up with answers, you could-" He stopped himself. He almost said, you could turn it to your advantage. It surprised him for a moment.

"That's Lio's job," Rega said, following his thoughts. He closed his eyes again. "Both of them now," he whispered. He sighed. "I have a campaign to win. Do what you have to do to find them. If it costs me the election, so be it." His eyes glistened now. He stood. "Thank you for…for coming by, Coren. I know this wasn't easy for you."

"For either of us."

"Do you have any ideas yet?"

"Possibilities. Do you want to know?"

"No. Not till you finish. Then I want to know everything."

"Yes, sir."

As Coren started for the door, Rega caught his arm.

"Everything, Coren."

Rega let go and walked away, toward the bedroom. Coren waited till the door snicked shut before he left. By the time Coren returned to his office, third shift was just ending. His stomach churned-the carrot had triggered his hunger-so he stopped by a small carry-out within walking distance of his building and bought a sandwich.

"Good morning," the Desk greeted him. "Please verify identity."

Coren sat down and went through the procedure, unwrapping his sandwich with his free hand.

"Welcome, Mr. Lanra. You have two messages. One from Myler Towne, one from Ambassador Burgess, Auroran Embassy."

Coren stopped chewing. "Burgess? Time."

"Six-ten."

Half an hour ago.

Coren finished chewing and swallowed. "The one from Myler Towne-is it a repeat of the first message?"

"Yes, sir."

"File it. "

"Yes, sir."

"No word from Jeta Fromm?"

"No, sir."

"Anything further on Yuri Pocivil?"

"No, sir."

"Ree Wenithal?"

"Yes, sir. Public records plus case logs, per parameters."

"Good, good. New search. I want to know who owns Improvo Shipping and Storage, and which freighter and passenger lines it does business with."

"Yes, sir."

Coren stretched lazily until his shoulder twinged. "Did you make that physician's appointment?"

"Yes, sir. Your physician has an opening six days from now, second shift."

Good thing it's not an emergency, Coren thought wryly. "Okay. What specifically do you have on Wenithal? Display."

The screen rose from the desk and file headers scrolled down. Coren caught the words "Nova Levis" and said "Stop. Case file number 82-791-AKB. Review."