«Dad,» Nicolette protested.
«Next week,» Jocelyn said. «They start on Monday.»
«Good. Who's Jesse?»
«Friend of mine,» Nathaniel said. «I met him at the day club yesterday. I like the people here; they're a lot easier going than back in the arcology. They all know who we are, but they didn't give us a hard time about it.»
«Why should they?»
«Because we're a security chief's children,» Nicolette said. I think she learnt that mildly exasperated tone from me. «It didn't make us real popular back in the Delph arcology.»
«You never told me that.»
She made a show of licking salad cream off her fork. «When did you ask?»
«Oh, of course, I'm a parent. I'm in the wrong. I'm always in the wrong.»
Her whole face lit up in a smile. For the first time I realized she had freckles.
«Of course you are, Daddy, but we make allowances. By the way, can I keep a parrot, please? Some of the red parakeets I've seen here are really beautiful, I think they must be gene-adapted to have plumage like that, they look like flying rainbows. There's a pet shop in the plaza just down the road which sells the eggs. Ever so cheap.»
I coughed on my lettuce leaf.
«No,» Jocelyn said.
«Oh, Mum, it wouldn't be affinity bonded. A proper pet.»
«No.»
Nicolette caught my eye and screwed her face up.
«How's the murder case coming on?» Nathaniel asked. «Everyone at the lake was talking about it.»
«Were they, now?»
«Yes. Everyone says Maowkavitz was an independence rebel, and the JSKP had her killed.»
«Is that right, Dad?» Nicolette looked at me eagerly.
Jocelyn had stopped eating, also focusing on me.
I toyed with some of the chicken on my plate. «No. At least, not all of it. Maowkavitz was part of a group discussing independence for Eden; people have been talking about that for years. But the company didn't kill her. They've had plenty of opportunities during the last few years to eliminate her if they wanted to, and make it seem like an accident. She was back on Earth eighteen months ago, if the JSKP board wanted her dead, they would've had it done then, and nobody would have questioned it. Her very public murder up here is the last thing they need. For a start, they're bound to be considered as prime suspects, by public rumour if not my department. It will inevitably make more people sympathetic to her cause.»
«Have you got a suspect, then?» Nathaniel asked.
«Not yet. But the method indicates that it's just one person, acting alone. There was a large amount of very secretive preparation involved. It has to be someone who's clever, above-average intelligence, familiar with Eden's biotechnology structure, and also the cybersystems, we think. Unfortunately that includes about half of the population. But the murderer must have an obsessive personality as well, which isn't so common. Then there's the risk to consider; even with the method they came up with—which admittedly is very smart—there was still a big chance of discovery. Whoever did it was prepared to take that risk. This is one very cool customer, because murder up here is a capital crime.»
«The death penalty?» Nicolette asked, her eyes rounded.
«That's right.» I winked. «Something to think about when you're considering joyriding one of the jeeps.»
«I wouldn't!»
«What about a motive?» Nathaniel persisted. Tenacious boy. I wonder where he got it from?
«No motive established so far. I haven't compiled enough information on Maowkavitz yet.»
«It's got to be personal,» he said decisively. «I bet she had a secret lover, or something. Rich people always get killed for personal reasons. When they fight about money they always do it in court.»
«I expect you're right.»
One thing all Penny Maowkavitz's nominees had in common, they were industrious people. I caught up with Bob Parkinson in the offices of the He3 mining mission centre, the largest building in Eden, a four-storey glass and composite cube. An archetypal company field headquarters, the kind of stolid structure designed to be assembled in a hurry, and last for decades.
His office didn't have quite the extravagance of Harwood's, it was more how I imagined the study of a computer science professor would look like. The desk was one giant console, while two walls were simply floor to ceiling holoscreens displaying orbital plots and breathtaking views of Jupiter's upper cloud level, relayed directly from the aerostats drifting in the gas-giant's troposphere. A hazed ochre universe that went on for ever, flecked by long streamers of ammonia cirrus that scudded past like a time-lapse video recording. The JSKP currently had twenty-seven of the vast hot-hydrogen balloons floating freely in the atmosphere; five hundred metre diameter spheres supporting the filtration plant which extracted He3 from Jupiter's constituent gases, and liquified it ready for collection by robot shuttles.
He3 is one of the rarest substances in the solar system, but it holds the key to commercially successful fusion. The first fusion stations came on-line in 2041, burning a mix of deuterium and tritium; second-generation stations employed a straight deuterium–deuterium reaction. Those combinations have a number of advantages: ignition is easy, the energy release is favourable, and the fuels are available in abundance. The major drawback is that both reactions are neutron emitters. Although you can use this effect to breed more tritium, by employing lithium blankets, it's a messy operation, requiring more complex (read: expensive) reactors, and a supplementary processing facility to handle the lithium. Without lithium blankets the reactor walls become radioactive, then have to be disposed of; and you require additional shielding to protect the magnetic confinement system. The costs in both monetary and environmental terms weren't much of an improvement on fission reactors.
Then in 2062 the JSKP dropped its first aerostat into Jupiter's atmosphere, and began extracting He3 in viable quantities. There are only minute amounts of the isotope present in Jupiter. But minute is a relative thing when you're dealing with a gas giant.
The fusion industry—if you'll pardon the expression—went critical. Stations burning a deuterium–He3 mix produced one of the cleanest possible fusion reactions, a high-energy proton emitter. It also proved an ideal space drive, cutting down costs of flights to Jupiter, which in turn reduced the costs of shipping back He3 , which led to increased demand.
An upward spiral of benefits. He3 was every economist's fantasy commodity.
Bob Parkinson was the man charged with ensuring a steady supply was maintained; a senior JSKP vice-president, he ran the entire mining operation. It wasn't the kind of responsibility I would ever want, but he appeared to handle it stoically. A tall fifty-year-old, with a monk's halo of short grizzled hair, and a heavily wrinkled face.
«I was wondering when you were going to get round to me,» he said.
«They told me it would have to be today.»
«God, yes. I can't delay the lowering, not even for Penny. And I have to be there.» A finger flicked up to one of the screens showing a small rugby-ball-shaped asteroid which seemed to be just skimming Jupiter's cloud tops. Fully half of its surface was covered with machinery; large black radiator fins formed a ruff collar around one conical peak. A flotilla of industrial stations swarmed in attendance, along with several inter-orbit transfer craft.
«That's the cloudscoop anchor?» I asked.
«Yes. Quite an achievement; the pinnacle of our society's engineering prowess.»
«I can't see the scoop itself.»
«It's on the other side.» He gave an instruction to his desk, and the view began to tilt. Against the backdrop of salmon and white clouds I could see a slender black line protruding from the side of the asteroid which was tide-locked towards the gas giant. Its end was lost somewhere among the rumbustious cyclones of the equatorial storm band.
«A monomolecule silicon pipe two and a half thousand kilometres long,» Bob Parkinson said with considerable pride. «With the scoop head filters working at full efficiency, it can pump a tonne of He3 up to the anchor asteroid every day. There will be no need to send the shuttles down to the aerostats any more. We just liquify it on the anchor asteroid, and transfer it straight into the tanker ships.»
«At one-third the current cost,» I said.
«I see you do your homework, Chief Parfitt.»