“I’m not investigating Dudley Bose,” Paula said. “As far as I know, he’s not guilty of anything.” She gave the lawyer a pointed look. “You obviously believe differently. Why is that?”
Wendy Bose gave Truten a questioning look.
“I don’t understand,” the lawyer said. “Dudley is only having two months of rejuvenation treatment. That’s all the time he can afford before the starship leaves, and that’ll barely get him into a reasonable physical condition. This investigation must be incredibly important for you to have him pulled out of that. You might have cost him his place on the crew.”
“Not a factor for me.”
“What do you think he’s done?” Wendy Bose asked.
There was desperation in her voice, but Paula knew that wasn’t all. Some of the worry was for herself.
“Very well, but this investigation is confidential. You are not at liberty to discuss it without my express permission.”
“I am aware of basic law…” Truten trailed off under Paula’s gaze.
“We believe that that attack on the Second Chance was made by a group called the Guardians of Selfhood. They are an obscure paramilitary political group based on Far Away who believe the Commonwealth is politically manipulated by an alien.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Truten said. “My e-butler has let their shotgun messages through its filters several times, unfortunately.”
“In order for them to see the Second Chance as a threat,” Paula said, “they would need to establish a link between its construction and their alleged enemy alien. What I’m trying to do is uncover that link, or at least their belief in a link. As the whole mission started because of Professor Bose’s discovery, he was the logical place to begin.”
“I hardly think this warrants yanking him out of the treatment.”
“It didn’t,” Paula said. “This kind of data analysis is a standard correlation for the Directorate RI. It came up with an unusual coincidence. I want to ask the professor about it. That’s all.”
“What was the coincidence?”
“The Cox Education charity account in the Denman Manhattan Bank was subject to an attempted data hack some while ago, prior to the attack. The charity is one of the sponsors of your husband’s astronomy department. Obviously, the Guardians believed the charity was channeling money into the Dyson Pair observation project on behalf of the alien. We assume they were trying to find their ‘evidence’ for this in the charity’s financial records. They weren’t successful in gaining access to the secure files, the bank’s smartware managed to lock them out. It wasn’t considered important at the time, the bank is subject to many such attacks, but the Trojan the hackers used to ride in on was based around Professor Bose’s codes.” She watched with interest as the color faded from Wendy Bose’s face. The woman reached out for Truten’s support. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Truten nodded encouragingly. His grip on Wendy Bose’s arm tightened. There could have been a degree of affection in that grip, Paula decided.
“He said to tell you something,” Wendy Bose said. “I didn’t understand at the time.”
“Your husband?”
“No, the reporter. He said, ‘Tell her from me to stop concentrating on the details, it’s the big picture that counts.’ ”
“A reporter said that to you?”
“Yes. To tell Paula when I see her, that’s what he said. I don’t know anyone called Paula. And we were talking about the astronomy department’s sponsors. He was interviewing me.”
“When was this?”
“Months ago. I think it was when my husband was awarded his professorship. There was a party afterward, a lot of people. Most of the media wanted to talk to us.”
“This reporter mentioned me by name? Me?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“What was his name?”
“I think it was Brad.”
Bradley,Paula mouthed. Surprise chilled her skin. For the first time ever, she knew how it must feel to come off worse during an interview. To have your confidence kicked out from under you.
“You know the gentleman?” Truten asked mildly.
Paula ignored his gentle mockery. “I’ll need a description of this Brad person. Were there any other reporters recording the party?”
“Probably. Yes. There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We left the party early. There’d been some kind of break-in at the house. Whoever did it copied all the memories in our household array.” She brightened. “That would hold Dudley’s information about the Cox Educational charity bank account, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Paula said softly.
“So Dudley’s innocent, then, isn’t he? He can go on the starship.”
“I’m not going to stop him.” She didn’t comment on the way the loyal wife and the supportive colleague hugged each other.
…
Ozzie was rocked from side to side as the big awkward sled jostled along over the frozen surface of the depression. The murky interior of the covered sled was actually colder than the inside of the tent, despite an iron brazier filled with glowing, hissing charcoal. Even so, Ozzie felt a lot more comfortable now they were under way. Orion also perked up considerably as the ride progressed, sitting on the long bench, his sleeping bag wrapped around him like a quilt.
The sled framework was constructed mainly out of bone, great honey-brown ribs of it, cut and fitted together as if they were lengths of wood. Walls and ceiling, and the benches they were sitting on, were made from stiff black leather, which Ozzie could see had been poorly scraped. A strip of clear crystal in the front wall, which he presumed was a chunk from the local trees, provided the only window. It gave him a rough view out across the ice-locked ground, but mainly of the swaying rumps of the two big ybnan that were pulling them. Bill, the big Korrok-hi, was standing on an open platform at the rear, steering them with a long set of reins. He was keeping their speed low so that the lontrus could keep up.
“What is this Ice Citadel place?” Ozzie asked.
“I’m not sure what it was originally,” Sara said. Now they were inside, her face mask hung on straps at the side of her hood. The brazier’s somber light had turned her creased skin as dark as Ozzie’s. “Most of us think it was some kind of Silfen lodge. They still use it when they come to hunt the icewhales.” She patted her fur coat. “That’s where all this comes from. I’ll need a new one soon, I’ve had this seven years now. It wears well if you take care of it.”
Ozzie glanced around the sled again. “And the bone?”
“Smart lad. Yes. In that respect they’re like the whales on old Earth, a valuable resource. We can use them for a lot of things. Once the Silfen have killed them and taken their trophy tusks, they don’t mind us utilizing the rest of it. A hunt is quite a sight, the Silfen ride out like some royal medieval pageant, dressed up in all their winter finery. Then you get us lot hanging on behind, trying to keep up. After they kill an icewhale, we set up camp for a week to butcher and cook the damn thing. Most parts have a use here. Even the blood has a kind of alcohol in it to stop it freezing, not that you can drink it—and there’s been enough experimental stills over the years. Then there’s one gland in the male icewhale which some people dry and then grind up. They say the powder puts the peck in your pecker, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I get the idea.”
“Some of the organs have medicinal properties, so our doctor claims, not just for us but other species at the Ice Citadel. And of course the meat is edible. That’s our basic diet.” She puckered her lips in disapproval, deepening the mass of wrinkles on her cheeks and forehead. “You have no idea how truly boring icewhale meat can get. Were you two riding horses?”
“Up until like two days ago, yes.”
“Humm. Horse steak. Now there’s a gourmet dish. If folks hear there are some horse bodies lying around out there for the taking, they might just put themselves in gear and get an expedition together. Two days away, you say?”
“Roughly, yeah. Not that we walk very fast.” Ozzie had eaten horse before, so the thought didn’t make him too squeamish. But he could see the boy turn his nose up in disgust.
“That’s near the limit,” Sara said. “It would be a risk. But there’s some who’ll take it just for the chance of tasting something different.”