«No,» Eden replied. «The population are entitled to their privacy. However, legitimate Police Department observation requests override individual rights.»
«It sounds infallible,» I said. «I can't go wrong.»
«Don't you believe it,» Zimmels retorted knowingly. «I've just given you the good news so far. You're not just responsible for Eden, the entire JSKP operation in Jupiter orbit comes under your jurisdiction. That means a lot of external work for your squads; the industrial stations, the refineries, inter-orbit ships; we even have a large survey team on Callisto right now.»
«I see.»
«But your biggest headache is going to be Boston.»
«I don't remember that name in any of my preliminary briefings.»
«You wouldn't.» He produced a bubble cube, and handed it over to me. «This contains my report, and most of it's unofficial. Supposition, plus what I've managed to pick up from various sources. Boston is a group of enthusiasts—radicals, revolutionaries, whatever you want to call them—who want Eden to declare independence, hence the name. They're quite well organized, too; several of their leading lights are JSKP executives, mostly those on the technical and scientific side.»
«Independence from the UN?»
«The UN and the JSKP, they want to take over the whole Jupiter enterprise; they think they can create some kind of technological paradise out here, free of interference from Earth's grubby politicians and conservative companies. The old High Frontier dream. Your problem is that engaging in free political debate isn't a crime. Technically, as a UN policeman, you have to uphold their right to do so. But as a JSKP employee, just imagine how the board back on Earth will feel if Eden, Pallas, and Ararat make that declaration of independence, and the new citizens assume control of the He3 mining operation while you're here charged with looking after the corporation's interests.»
The PNC wafer's bleeping woke me. I struggled to orientate myself. Strange bedroom. Grey geometric shadows at all angles. A motion which nagged away just below conscious awareness.
Jocelyn shifted around beside me, twisting the duvet. Also unusual, but the Zimmels had used a double bed. Apparently it would take a couple of days to requisition two singles.
My questing hand found the PNC wafer on the bedside dresser. I prayed I'd programmed it for no visual pick-up before I went to bed. «Call acknowledged. Chief Parfitt here,» I said blearily.
The wafer hazed over with a moiré rainbow which shivered until a face came into focus. «Rolf Kümmel, sir. Sorry to wake you so early.»
Detective Lieutenant Kümmel was my deputy, we'd been introduced briefly yesterday. Thirty-two and already well up the seniority ladder. A conscientious careerist, was my first impression. «What is it, Rolf?»
«We have a major crime incident inside the habitat, sir.»
«What incident?»
«Somebody's been killed. Penny Maowkavitz, the JSKP Genetics Division director.»
«Killed by what?»
«A bullet, sir. She was shot through the head.»
«Fuck. Where?»
«The north end of the Lincoln lake.»
«Doesn't mean anything. Send a driver to pick me up, I'll be there as soon as I can.»
«Driver's on her way, sir.»
«Good man. Wafer off.»
It was Shannon Kershaw who drove the jeep which picked me up, one of the station staff I'd met the previous afternoon on my lightning familiarization tour, a programming expert. A twenty-eight-year-old with flaming red hair pleated in elaborate spirals; grinning challengingly as Zimmels introduced us. Someone who knew her speciality made her invaluable, giving her a degree of immunity from the usual sharpshooting of office politics. This morning she was subdued, uniform tunic undone, hair wound into a simple tight bun.
The axial light-tube was a silver strand glimpsed through frail cloud braids high above, slightly brighter than a full Earth moon. Its light was sufficient for her to steer the jeep down a track through a small forest without using the headlights. «Not good,» she muttered. «This is really going to stir people up. We all sort of regarded Eden as . . . I don't know. Pure.»
I was studying the display my PNC wafer was running, a program correlating previous crime incident files with Penny Maowkavitz, looking for any connection. So far a complete blank. «There's never been a murder up here before, has there?»
«No. There couldn't be, really; not with the habitat personality watching us the whole time. You know, it's pretty shaken up by this.»
«The personality is upset?» I enquired sceptically.
She shot me a glance. «Of course it is. It's sentient, and Penny Maowkavitz was about the closest thing to a parent it could ever have.»
«Feelings,» I said wonderingly. «That must be one very sophisticated Turing AI program.»
«The habitat isn't an AI. It's alive, it's conscious. A living entity. You'll understand once you receive your neuron symbiont implant.»
Great, now I was driving round inside a piece of neurotic coral. «I'm sure I will.»
The trees gave way to a swath of meadowland surrounding a small lake. A rank of jeeps were drawn up near the shoreline; several had red and blue strobes flashing on top, casting transient stipples across the black water. Shannon parked next to an ambulance, and we walked over to the group of people clustered round the body.
Penny Maowkavitz was sprawled on the grey shingle four metres from the water. She was wearing a long dark-beige suede jacket over a sky-blue blouse, heavy black cotton trousers, and sturdy ankle boots. Her limbs were askew, the skin of her hands very pale. I couldn't tell how old she was, principally because half of her head was missing. What was left of the skull sprouted a few wisps of fine silver hair. A wig of short-cropped dark-blonde hair lay a couple of metres away, stained almost completely crimson. A wide ribbon of gore and blood was splashed over the shingle between it and the corpse. In the jejune light it looked virtually black.
Shannon grunted, and turned away fast.
I'd seen worse in my time, a lot worse. But Shannon was right about one thing, it didn't belong here, not amongst the habitat's tranquillity.
«When did it happen?» I asked.
«Just over half an hour ago,» Rolf Kümmel said. «I got out here with a couple of officers as soon as Eden told us.»
«The personality saw it happen?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Who did it?»
Rolf grimaced, and pointed at a servitor chimp standing passively a little way off. A couple of uniformed officers stood on either side of it. «That did, sir.»
«Christ. Are you sure?»
«We've all accessed the personality's local visual memory to confirm it, sir,» he said in a slightly aggrieved tone. «But the chimp was still holding the pistol when we arrived. Eden locked its muscles as soon as the shot was fired.»
«So who ordered it to fire the pistol?»
«We don't know.»