“Rina?” Flynn looked at her incredulously as he tugged on the collar of his coat. “This is Apogea. Covenant provided us these clothes so we’d not be in our fishing gear to make inquiries. You would have been provided whatever you needed.”
“I just didn’t want to go. Veronika understood.” She held up a hand to forestall further discussion. “Lavaryn, we need to canvas the neighborhood. Ask about Regan Park. Ask about the blackout chips. You did get that from the junior listening to the interrogation, yes?”
“We did.”
“Good.”
“We did not understand the reference to ‘Stephen Fonteneau.’ Covenant says he is a thief, specializing in jewels and other rare items. What is his connection here? Should we be looking for him, and the other half of that mandible in his possession?”
“Him, no. He was David Holcomb.”
The Zsytzii’s face screwed down at the brows in a frown, but came up at the lip in a snarl. “We do not think that is possible. Not to doubt your identification, but that would mean that Covenant was fooled on his identification when he came here.”
“I don’t like the implications of that idea either, Captain.” Arina shook her head. “I need a current location on Samuel and Veronika Abrams.”
The Zsytzii’s fingers caressed the datapad’s input buttons with blurred speed. “He is at his hunting lodge in the islands. She is in the City. Shall we communicate a request for an interview?”
“Please. An hour from now, at her home here.”
One of the juniors brought Arina a datapad from the ship. Captain Lavaryn smiled. “We will communicate the address to you, as well as keep you apprised of our investigation.”
Arina nodded and slid the data device into the harness’s holster. “I know where she lives. It’s not far. We’ll walk. I get to think while I walk. Let’s go, Dennis.”
Father Flynn joined her and smiled. “You took to having the weight of that harness on you fast enough, I’m thinking.”
She shot him a sidelong glance. “I’ve been out of it for two years. I’m two years away from what Deana Thompson is going through, which sometimes doesn’t seem very far, but other times… When I first got here I just wanted to be alone, to mourn, and I know that probably wasn’t the best way to deal with Fith’s death, but it was the only way I knew to do it.”
“The healing process, it’s different for everyone. Folks may tend one way or another, wanting to be around folks, wanting to be alone, working, retiring, and any combination of the same.” Flynn rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a vital woman, Arina, resilient. Hunkering down to heal up, that made sense. It was always your way. I was happy indeed to receive your invitation to visit. I took it as a good sign, especially given that I was there when everything happened.”
“You helped hold me together, Dennis, and for that I owe you a debt I can’t repay.”
“Stopping those Spiral Way terrorists put everyone else in a debt they couldn’t repay you.” Flynn squeezed her shoulder. Spiral Way, being an anarchistic group looking to overthrow the Qian Commonwealth, had tried to enter Commonwealth space at Purgatory Station, figuring that any backwater station such as it would have lax security. Arina and Fith took their jobs seriously, and discovered that the Novajet Transport ship had been hijacked. In it were weapons, including some virals that would have wrought havoc within the Commonwealth. The lightfight that resulted in the transport being secured and the terrorists killed had cost the life of a half-dozen security personnel, Fith being foremost among them.
“So I’ve been told, many times. I know Samuel Abrams exerted considerable influence to get me a grant to live here. I think he even created and had spread a rumor saying the Spiral Way had specifically targeted Apogea to make me seem even better.” She shook her head. “I’m sure some people decided I should come here since they figured my presence would be enough to keep Spiral Way on the other side of the galaxy.”
“Do you think Apogea will remain paradise with news of the murder getting out?”
“It will take more than an isolated incident to bring things crashing down.” Arina opened her hands as they walked along through the artist’s quarter, heading toward the tall towers to the north. “You seem to assume, my friend, that in the absence of a government, the slightest pressure will cause people to revert to animals. Apogea follows a simple model, much akin to that of children playing a pickup game of hockey. They set boundaries, they devise goals, they dispense with some rules and create others to suit their needs, with the will of the group determining what is right and functional. If someone disagrees, they go home.”
“The needs of the people here are far more sophisticated than the needs of children playing hockey.”
“There is no disputing that. The absence of want doesn’t bring with it an absence of stupidity. People get drunk and do stupid things. They get jealous and do stupid things, but those here have been screened to minimize those tendencies, and are monitored to pick up on them and exile them before they become a problem.”
Flynn nodded. “And yet, Fonteneau was here. How many more like him are there?”
“No way of knowing. The fact is, of course, that he had to have lied to get here, so his behavior from the first would earn him exile the moment he was caught. But, were he to live here through his contract and function within society, would we have been diminished by his presence? Would we have suffered because of him? You can look at someone like Samuel Abrams, in fact, and note that he has likely done as much harm as good with his businesses, but as long as he fits in with our society here, what he has done off Apogea matters not at all.”
“Do you believe that? What if a murderer, some planetary dictator, bought his way into Apogea, would you not find it morally reprehensible that he could be here?”
“His presence? No. Him, certainly; and I’d not associate with him at all. In some ways it could be argued that here, where there is no mechanism for generating power, such a person is rendered harmless. The simple fact of the matter, however, is that because having him here would not rise high in the consciousness of the people in terms of desire, Covenant would not generate an invitation to have him come to Apogea.”
Flynn frowned. “I see your point, but I wonder at another one. You seem to argue that an absence of want leads to stability, but does it not also lead to stagnation? What impetus to strive in life?”
“For the contractors, the impetus comes in the nature of the bonuses they get when they leave us.” Arina shrugged. “For the others, we are on the other side of striving. We have striven, and we are here, in a sanctuary.”
Before Flynn could address that point with another concern, they reached the tower where Veronika Abrams had taken up residence. Covenant checked their identification, opening the building to them, and had a lift in the lobby waiting. It whisked them up to the fifty-first floor, opening into a marble-lined private foyer, across from which a wall of glass gave them a stunning view of the City and the lush, verdant landscape stretching far to the south.
Veronika Abrams greeted them herself. Willowy and graceful, she moved with the ease of a dancer in the flowing blue robe she wore gathered at the waist with a golden rope. Her black hair had been cut short and framed a pixieish face with large dark eyes and full lips. Flynn didn’t wonder if she’d had a new face cloned then put in place—doing that was, for women of her class, to be expected and quite unremarkable. Still, the light in her eyes suggested to him that her following class convention came less out of personal vanity, than a sense of fun and delight in seeing her young self in the mirror once more.
The woman advanced, smiling. “Arina Gadja, so good to see you again. A colonel in Covenant’s service, well. Unusual for a resident to work, but, I would guess, necessary. And you are Father Flynn?”
“I am.”
“Don’t be surprised, Father, I am well aware of who comes and goes these days. Mostly coming, a few going, of course. Tracking these things are all that keep me occupied.” Veronika linked her arm through Arina’s and steered her into the sitting room off to the left side of the foyer. “Now, sit and tell me what is the matter.”
Arina joined Veronika on the white fabric couch, while Flynn settled into a matching chair. “Mrs. Abrams, there has been a murder.”
The woman started. “A murder? Not Sam…”
“No, not your husband, but someone you have met before. David Holcomb. He was the wine steward at Cuisine Rigel.”
Veronika frowned and glanced up toward the ceiling. “Not terribly tall, dark brown hair?”
