Timothy Zahn: The Icarus Hunt

The word was so completely unexpected that it took a couple of turns around mybrain before finally coming to a stop. Murderer? "Murderer?" I askedcarefully.

"This guy killed someone?"

"So says the report," Aymi-Mastr said, watching me closely. "Do you find thatso difficult to believe?"

"Well, frankly, yes," I said, feigning confusion. I didn't have to feign toohard. "He looks like such a solid citizen in that picture. What happened? Whodid he kill?"

"The director of an archaeological dig out in the Great Wasteland," Aymi-Mastrsaid, setting my file aside and steepling her fingers again. "There was amassive explosion out there early yesterday morning—you didn't hear aboutthat?"

I shook my head. "We didn't make landfall until a little after local noon. Idid ask what the slowdown was, but no one would give me a straight answer."

"The blast sent large gales of mineral dust into the atmosphere," Aymi-Mastrexplained. "Our sensors and guide beacons were disrupted for over an hour, which is what caused the backup in traffic. At any rate, when investigators went tolook, they located the severely burned body of a Dr. Ramond Chou hidden in oneof the underground grottoes the group had been exploring. The order was immediately given to round up all those associated with the dig forquestioning."

She picked up Cameron's photo from the desk and handed it to me again. "Thisman is the only one still at large. Others of the group have identified him as themurderer."

Which explained the big search out in the wasteland last night. "Well, best ofluck in finding him," I said, eyeing the photo again. "But if you ask me, he'slong gone by now. Probably took off under cover of that sensor scramble youmentioned."

"That may indeed be the case," Aymi-Mastr conceded. "There was an unconfirmedreport that something may have lifted out through the cloud of debris." Shewaved a pair of antennae at the photo. "But on the other palm is the statementthat you were seen with him last night. Look closely, Captain. Are you certainyou didn't exchange even a few words?"

She was making it so easy for me. All I had to do was say, yes, he'd hired mefor a job, but that that was before I knew he was a murderer. Aymi-Mastr wouldask what I knew, I would hand over the tag Cameron had given me, they wouldpickhim up at the Icarus's landing ramp, and I could walk away free and clear.

And best of all, I wouldn't have to face Brother John about this disruption inhis precious schedule.

With a sigh, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Director Aymi-Mastr," I said, layingthe photo back on the desk. "I wish I could help. I really do—I don't muchcare for murderers myself. But I didn't talk to him, and I don't even rememberseeinghim go by on the street. Whoever your anonymous witness thinks he saw, itwasn't me."

For a four-pack of heartbeats she just gazed at me. Then, with a shrug ashuman and as ridiculous-looking on her as the finger-steepling thing, she nodded.

"Very well, Captain, if that's your final word."

"It is," I said, deciding to ignore the sarcasm of that last comment as Istood up. "May I go now? I do have a schedule to keep."

"I understand," she said, standing up to face me. "Unfortunately, before youleave Meima we will have to perform a complete search of your ship." She heldout a hand. "Your guidance tag, please."

I frowned, suddenly acutely conscious of the Icarus tag sitting there in plainsight in my collar slot. "Excuse me?"

"Your guidance tag, please," Aymi-Mastr said; and though all the genialtrappings were still in place, I could sense the sudden hardening of her tone.

"Please don't require me to use force. I know you humans consider Ihmisits tobe laughable creatures, but I assure you we are stronger than we look."

For a long second I continued the face-off. Then, muttering under my breath, Ireached up and slid both tags from the slot. "Fine," I growled, palmingCameron's tag and slapping the Stormy Banks's onto the desk. Brother John'scargo, I knew, would be well enough disguised to weather even a seriousIhmisit customs search. "Help yourselves. Just don't leave a mess."

"We shall be quick and neat," she promised. "In the meantime, if you'd like, youcan wait in the guest room behind the striped door."

"I'd rather wait in the hospitality center," I said stiffly, snagging the handle of my bag and pulling it over to me. "If you're going to waste my time thisway, you can at least let me get some breakfast."

"As you wish," Aymi-Mastr said, giving me the Ihmis gesture of farewell. Herphone warbled, and she reached over to pick it up. "We should be finishedwithin the hour," she added as she held the handset to her neck slits.

I spun on my heel and stalked across the room toward the door, trying to putas much righteous indignation into my posture as I could. They were letting mego, and they hadn't taken my phone. Either they didn't seriously suspect me, Aymi-Mastr's accusations to the contrary, or they did seriously suspect me andwere hoping to follow me to wherever I was hiding Cameron.

"Captain McKell?" Aymi-Mastr called from behind me.

For a flickering half second, I considered making a run for it. But the doorwas too far away, and there were too many Ihmisits between me and it. Bracingmyself, I turned back around. "What?" I demanded.

Aymi-Mastr was still on the phone, beckoning me back. I thought again aboutrunning, decided it made no more sense now than it had five seconds ago, andheaded back.

By the time I reached the desk she had finished the conversation. "Myapologies, Captain," she said, putting down the phone and holding out the tag she'd takenfrom me. "You may go."

I frowned suspiciously at the tag like it was some sort of kid's practicaljokethat would snap a spring against my finger if I took it. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Aymi-Mastr said, sounding midway between embarrassed anddisgusted. "My superiors just informed me they've heard from our mysteriousinformant again. It seems the charge has now changed: that you were seeninstead in the company of the notorious armed robber Belgai Romss. He attacked astoragedepot over in Tropstick three days ago."

I frowned. What the hell sort of game were they playing? "And, what, you wantme to take a look at his photo now?"

"That won't be necessary," Aymi-Mastr said, her disgust deepening.

"Apparently, our friend missed the follow-up story of Romss's capture early yesterdaymorning, before your ship arrived."

She pushed the tag toward me. "Obviously merely a troublemaker, as yousuggested. Again, my apologies."

"That's all right," I said, cautiously taking the tag. No spring snapped outto sting my fingers. "Maybe next time you won't be so quick to jump on somethinglike this without proof."

"With a murder investigation, we must always investigate every lead," shesaid, drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the top of my file. "A safe journey toyou, Captain."

I turned again and headed for the door, sliding the Stormy Banks tag back intomy collar slot but continuing to palm the Icarus one. No one tried to stop me, no one called me back, and two minutes later I was once again out in the openair. It was all over, and I was free to go.

I didn't believe it for a minute. It was all too pat, too convenient. TheIhmisits were still looking for Cameron, and they still thought I was the onewho was going to lead them to him. And they'd turned me loose hoping I'd doexactly that.

And unless they planned to tail me all the way to the Icarus—which was, Isupposed, an option—that meant they'd planted a tracker on me.

The question was how. Molecular-chain echo transponders were useless in theradio cacophony inside a major port, so it had to be one of the larger, needle-sized trackers. But I'd watched Aymi-Mastr's flunky as he searched mybag, and would have been willing to swear in court that he hadn't plantedanything.