wigs wanted me under lock and key until we landed."
"And they do," Kim agreed, "so this is our little secret."
"Does Rex know?"
The motion was invisible to Martin, but Kim shook her head. "No, and I don't plan to tell him. Not yet anyway."
Kim felt concern ripple through the interface. "Such behavior is unusual for you, Kim. Are you all right?" Â
"Yes . . . no . . . I'm not sure." Â
"You have doubts."
''Yes, I have doubts. But I need your help anyway.'' Â
"Tell me about it."
So Kim did. She told Martin about the murder, about the message, and about her fears.
"So," she concluded, "I'm afraid that Rex would get all protective, go after the story, and get himself killed."
"It has been my observation that Rex is hard to kill," Martin said thoughtfully, "still, I share your concern. What would you like me to do?"
Kim ran her tongue over dry lips. This was it. The point where the whole thing crossed from the planning stage into the doing stage. The point of no return.
"I want you to infiltrate the ship's computer systems. The message came by E-mail from one of the free access terminals on E-deck. Anyone could have used it."
"So I lie in wait," Martin said, "identify the next message as it comes in, trace it to its source, and take a peek via one of the surveillance cameras."
"Exactly," Kim replied, relieved that her plan sounded workable. "If you're willing, that is."
Amusement filled the interface. "Of course I'm willing. Just try to stop me. Besides, anything's better than the inside of that suitcase."
Kim smiled. "Wait until youâve had a chance to sift through a hundred screens of E-mail. That could change your mind.''
Â
Corvan hit his head on a support beam, swore, and ducked underneath. An upright pressed in on him from the right. He wiggled through the opening.
Dr. Bethany McKeen, better known as Dr. "B" to her friends, chuckled. There was no animosity in her laugh. Just the enjoyment that small people have when big people run into trouble.
The geologist was little more than four and a half-feet tall, weighed eighty-eight pounds soaking wet, and was descended from the small-framed peoples that once lived in the African rain forests. She had reddish-brown skin, a roundish head, and a broad flat nose. Her eyes were bright with intelligence and danced with suppressed merriment. Like Corvan, Dr. B was dressed in a plain blue ship-suit. She used a lateral support to hold herself in place.
"What's the problem Corvan? Putting on a little weight?"
That was the second such comment in two cycles. Corvan made a note to watch his caloric intake. A task made easier by the boring food. He growled a reply, pulled himself over the I-beam that blocked his way, and followed the geologist's girlish posterior even deeper into the bowels of G-deck.
If A-deck was the topmost layer of the ship, then G-deck was the bottommost layer, and almost entirely given over to the ship's power plants, shielding, and associated equipment.
And it was from that this region that many people, including Dr. B. thought the booming sound originated.
Fornos and Jopp had grown weary of the complaints associated with the noise, not to mention the sometimes outlandish rumors that went along with them, and had authorized a two-person expedition.
And, due to the fact that her skills as a geologist were not yet in demand, Dr. B had been chosen to lead it. Corvan had been an afterthought, a companion to provide aid in case of trouble, and a newsperson to document whatever she found.
The crawl space twisted and turned ever downward, expanded and contracted according to the size and dimensions of the installations that it served, but made no concessions to the convenience of those who used it.
There were light fixtures, but most were mounted high overhead, and the light they cast was broken into a maze of crisscrossing shadows.
And, thanks to the presence of the ship's power plants, it was hot, as well. Everything was warm to the
"And they do," Kim agreed, "so this is our little secret."
"Does Rex know?"
The motion was invisible to Martin, but Kim shook her head. "No, and I don't plan to tell him. Not yet anyway."
Kim felt concern ripple through the interface. "Such behavior is unusual for you, Kim. Are you all right?" Â
"Yes . . . no . . . I'm not sure." Â
"You have doubts."
''Yes, I have doubts. But I need your help anyway.'' Â
"Tell me about it."
So Kim did. She told Martin about the murder, about the message, and about her fears.
"So," she concluded, "I'm afraid that Rex would get all protective, go after the story, and get himself killed."
"It has been my observation that Rex is hard to kill," Martin said thoughtfully, "still, I share your concern. What would you like me to do?"
Kim ran her tongue over dry lips. This was it. The point where the whole thing crossed from the planning stage into the doing stage. The point of no return.
"I want you to infiltrate the ship's computer systems. The message came by E-mail from one of the free access terminals on E-deck. Anyone could have used it."
"So I lie in wait," Martin said, "identify the next message as it comes in, trace it to its source, and take a peek via one of the surveillance cameras."
"Exactly," Kim replied, relieved that her plan sounded workable. "If you're willing, that is."
Amusement filled the interface. "Of course I'm willing. Just try to stop me. Besides, anything's better than the inside of that suitcase."
Kim smiled. "Wait until youâve had a chance to sift through a hundred screens of E-mail. That could change your mind.''
Â
Corvan hit his head on a support beam, swore, and ducked underneath. An upright pressed in on him from the right. He wiggled through the opening.
Dr. Bethany McKeen, better known as Dr. "B" to her friends, chuckled. There was no animosity in her laugh. Just the enjoyment that small people have when big people run into trouble.
The geologist was little more than four and a half-feet tall, weighed eighty-eight pounds soaking wet, and was descended from the small-framed peoples that once lived in the African rain forests. She had reddish-brown skin, a roundish head, and a broad flat nose. Her eyes were bright with intelligence and danced with suppressed merriment. Like Corvan, Dr. B was dressed in a plain blue ship-suit. She used a lateral support to hold herself in place.
"What's the problem Corvan? Putting on a little weight?"
That was the second such comment in two cycles. Corvan made a note to watch his caloric intake. A task made easier by the boring food. He growled a reply, pulled himself over the I-beam that blocked his way, and followed the geologist's girlish posterior even deeper into the bowels of G-deck.
If A-deck was the topmost layer of the ship, then G-deck was the bottommost layer, and almost entirely given over to the ship's power plants, shielding, and associated equipment.
And it was from that this region that many people, including Dr. B. thought the booming sound originated.
Fornos and Jopp had grown weary of the complaints associated with the noise, not to mention the sometimes outlandish rumors that went along with them, and had authorized a two-person expedition.
And, due to the fact that her skills as a geologist were not yet in demand, Dr. B had been chosen to lead it. Corvan had been an afterthought, a companion to provide aid in case of trouble, and a newsperson to document whatever she found.
The crawl space twisted and turned ever downward, expanded and contracted according to the size and dimensions of the installations that it served, but made no concessions to the convenience of those who used it.
There were light fixtures, but most were mounted high overhead, and the light they cast was broken into a maze of crisscrossing shadows.
And, thanks to the presence of the ship's power plants, it was hot, as well. Everything was warm to the
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