Timothy Zahn - The Icarus Hunt

"And his motive?"

"Whose, Jones's or Chort's?"

"Either one."

Ixil shrugged. "What motive does anyone here have? That's the main reason I hesitate to ascribe any of this to malice."

I sighed; but he was right. Considering the Icarus's, haphazard design, glitches could easily turn out to be the rule rather than the exception. "What about Jones's rebreather?"

Ixil hissed softly between his teeth. "That one I don't like at all," he said.

"I don't suppose you still have it."

I shook my head. "We had to turn over the suit and rebreather both withJones's body."

"I was afraid of that," he said. "I would have liked to have looked it over.

Frankly, I don't know if it's even theoretically possible for a rebreather tomalfunction that way on its own."

"Then you're thinking sabotage?"

"That would be my guess; but again, for what purpose? Why would anyone aboardwant to kill Jones?"

"How should I know?" I asked irritably. "These people are total strangers tome."

"Exactly my point," he said. "From your description of how Cameron was hiringhis crewers, all these people are supposedly also total strangers to eachother."

I frowned. That part hadn't occurred to me. "You're right," I said slowly, thinking back to that first meeting back at the base of the Icarus's stairway.

"No one gave any indication of knowing any of the others. At least not when Iwas watching."

"Which implies that if any of this is deliberate there must be some othermotivation," Ixil concluded. "The general sabotage of the ship, perhaps, orthe systematic disabling of the crew."

"Tied in with Cameron's failure to show up at the ship, maybe?" I suggested.

"Could be," Ixil agreed. "The massive manhunt we saw near the archaeology digwould support that theory, not to mention your playmates with the high-techweaponry."

I drummed my fingers on the deck. "So where does that leave us?"

"With quite a few unknowns," Ixil said. "The key one, in my mind, being thismysterious cargo you're carrying. Have you any idea what's in there?"

"None whatsoever," I said. "There's nothing listed in the computer that Icould find, and there are no access panels listed on the schematics where we couldeven go to take a look. When Cameron said it'd been sealed, he meant it."

"We may have to find some way to unseal it before we're done with this," Ixilsaid.

There was a scrabbling sound at the hatchway, and Pix and Pax appeared. "Okay, I

give up," I asked, finally tired of wondering about it. "What exactly havetheybeen doing out there? Neither you nor they know what any of the crew lookslike."

"Given your brush with the Lumpy Brothers, as you call them, it occurred to methat someone might have the Icarus under surveillance," Ixil said as theferrets climbed his torso to his shoulders again. "I'm watching for anyone who seemsto be loitering around the area without a legitimate reason to do so."

"Ah. And?"

"If he's there, he's very good at his job," Ixil concluded. "By the way, isone of your crewers about one-point-nine meters tall and bulking out at a goodhundred ten kilograms, with short black hair and a face like a throw-boxerwith a bad win/loss record?"

"Sounds like our medic, Everett," I said, scooting across the floor to hisside.

Sure enough, there he was, heading toward us with an air of briskdetermination about him. "Yes, that's him," I confirmed, getting to my feet. "Be nice, now—he's probably never seen a Kalix before."

Apparently lost in his own thoughts, Everett didn't even notice us standing inthe shadow of the wraparound until he was halfway up the ramp. Judging fromhow high he jumped, he had indeed never seen a Kalix before. "It's all right—don'tworry," I said quickly, before he could turn tail and run for the hills. "Thisis Ixil. He's with us."

"Ah," Everett said, regaining his balance and most of his composure andpeeringoddly at Ixil. "So this is your partner. Ixil, was it?"

"Yes," Ixil said. "How did you know I was Jordan's partner?"

Everett blinked. "He said he would be bringing his partner in to take Jones'splace," he said, looking at me uncertainly. "Just before we set down. Didn'tyousay that?"

"Yes, I did," I confirmed. "Any problems with the drop-off?"

"Not really," he said. "It was your basic fifteen-minute inquest. They didwant to keep the suit and rebreather, though."

"I figured they would," I said. "Where's Nicabar?"

"He headed off somewhere after the inquest," Everett said. "Why, is that aproblem?"

"It could become one," I said. "Did you happen to see any of the others onyourway back?"

"I passed Shawn at one of the vendor stalls a few minutes ago," he said. "Ihaven't seen anyone else."

"Perhaps it's time we called them," Ixil suggested. "I presume you have theirphone numbers, Jordan?"

"Yes, they're programmed into list two," I said, handing him my phone. "Givethem a call, will you, and tell them to get back as soon as they can. I'llmake sure the refueling's been finished and get the rest of the paperwork out ofthe way."

"What can I do?" Everett asked.

You can tell me who out there has it in for this ship and its crew, thesuggestion ran through my mind. But there was no point springing somethinglike that on him. Odds were he hadn't the faintest idea anyway. "Go make sure yourgear's ready for liftoff," I told him instead. "As soon as the rest get back, we're out of here."

THEY STRAGGLED IN over the next hour, Shawn and Nicabar clearly glad we weregetting under way, Tera just as clearly annoyed that we'd cut short what hadapparently been a successful shopping spree, at least judging from the numberof bags she hauled aboard. Chort didn't show any particular preference one way orthe other.

With the ever-looming threat of hue and cry from the Port Authority over thedeaths of my two assailants—and the associated threat that the port might besummarily shut down at any minute—I spent the entire time sweating as I fought upstream against bureaucratic inertia, trying to finish Jones's death reportand all the procedural preflight paperwork before the bodies were discovered.

To my surprise, we got cleared and headed out into space without any sign ofofficial outrage or panic over the charred remains I'd left at the loadingdock.

Perhaps the spot the Lumpy Brothers had picked for my interrogation had beenmore private than it had looked. Either that, or someone had done a veryefficient job of sweeping the whole incident under the rug.

I'd had short conversations with each of the crewers on the trip from Meima, but most of them had either concerned basic ship's business or were just casualchat. But now, with everything that had happened since then, I decided it wastime to skip past the surface and find out what exactly these people were madeof. If someone was out to get us I needed to know which ones I could trust notto buckle under pressure.

And so, as soon as we'd made our slice into hyperspace and were on our way, Ileft Ixil watching the bridge and headed aft.

The Icarus's engine room was just like the rest of the ship, only more so. Thesame odd arrangement of equipment and control systems was repeated back there, as if Salvador Dali had been in charge of the layout. In addition, though, thegeneral attempt elsewhere to keep the various cables and fluid conduits tuckedout of the way in the gap between the inner and outer hulls had seemingly beenabandoned here. They were everywhere: a bewildering, multicolored spaghettitangle that brushed against sleeves and shins and occasionally threatened toclothesline the unwary traveler.

And buried away at his control console near the middle of the sculpted chaoswas Revs Nicabar.

"Ah—McKell," he greeted me as I successfully negotiated past a final pair ofthick conduits leading to the large, shimmery Mobius strip that was the heartof the Icarus's stardrive. "Welcome to Medusa's Lair. Watch your head."