floor room that overlooked the outer perimeter. The thin, sunblocking curtain was drawn back from the main window, letting in the light of the rising sun; the same sunlight gleamed from the roof of a crystal shed a thousand meters away, a blindingly bright rectangle well outside the circle of terrestrial green that marked the headquarters perimeter. Slade was staring at the shed, eyes narrowed against the light but his face otherwise expressionless. Heikki had one fleeting glimpse of that stillness, and then the man was turning toward her, his face taking on an expression of welcome. He was still wearing the Precincter button, clipped to the low side of his collar.
“Dam’ Heikki, it was good of you to see me on such short notice. And so early in the day, too.”
So my protest was relayed, Heikki thought, murmuring a politely meaningless response. Well, too bad. “I was concerned to hear about Sebasten-Januarias’s accident,” she said. Better to make the first move directly, she thought, or he’ll spend an hour dancing around whatever it is he wants.
“If one can call it an accident,” Slade murmured, a slight smile quirking his lips.
Touche, Heikki thought. “A seeker missile doesn’t usually fall into that category, I grant you,” she said aloud, “but I don’t know what else to call it.”
“I’ll be frank with you,” Slade began, and Heikki mentally braced herself for trickery. “All we know is the police report that Ser—Sebasten-Januarias?—filed this morning when the patrol picked him up. He claims his craft—I forget the type, some heavier-than-air model—was fired on from the ground as he crossed the Asilas below the massif; he took evasive action and was able to avoid the main explosion, though it damaged the ship. He made a crash landing, and walked back toward the nearest farming station, where he called for help. The police picked him up there this morning, as I said.”
It was plausible enough, Heikki thought. The most common aircraft on Iadara were wood-framed douplewings, propelled by a light, cool running Maximum Morris powerplant—not an easy target for the usual small-brained seeker missiles to follow. And the douplewings were extremely forgiving in a crash—that was why they continued in use on Iadara and dozens of other Precinct worlds. The light frame would collapse and crumple on impact, but much of the force of a crash would be absorbed in the process. You could walk away from a smash-up that would kill you in any other craft. She became aware, tardily, that Slade was watching her curiously, and managed a shrugging smile. “I don’t quite know what you want of me. I can see that you might be concerned that this has something to do with your crash, sure, but I can’t for the life of me see what.” Abruptly, she wished she had used some other metaphor.
Slade frowned. “The wrecked latac. Were there any signs, for example, that it had been hit by a seeker?”
Heikki suppressed a surge of malicious pleasure, and answered, “I really couldn’t say, Ser Slade. After all, we only made the one visual examination, and that under less than ideal conditions. If we’d been able to finish the analysis, of course…. But I’m sure your own technicians will have the answers for you in a week or two.”
“What’s your guess, as a professional?” Slade’s voice was untroubled, not in the least annoyed by her jibe, and Heikki hesitated, newly wary.
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said, after a moment. “Certainly, if I wanted to bring down a latac, a seeker’s cheap and relatively efficient—the bigger powerplant makes a latac a lot better target than a douplewing’s, for one thing. And there was nothing at the wreck site that would suggest otherwise. But it could also have been an on- board explosive, or even engine sabotage.” Slade opened his mouth to say more, and Heikki spread her hands. “I’m sorry, Ser, I simply can’t give you a better guess.”
Slade sighed. “Fair enough, Dam’ Heikki. As you say, our people will bring in their assessment soon enough.” He paused, staring out the window at the distant crystal shed. Heikki watched him uneasily, not quite believing in his sudden abstraction.
“I suppose,” he said, after a long moment, “this could be some—purely personal matter of the pilot’s.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Heikki said in spite of herself, and instantly wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
Slade looked curiously at her. “Why do you say that, Dam’ Heikki?”
Because nobody except a corporate stooge settles a private argument with a missile, Heikki thought. She said, slowly, not quite sure why she was playing for time, “Certainly he never said or did anything that would lead me to believe he had that sort of enemy.”
“But not that he had no enemies?” Slade nodded, almost approvingly.
That wasn’t what I meant, Heikki thought, and you know it. But I can see it would be very convenient for you to explain it that way, at least until you can figure out what happened to your latac. And right now, I don’t see any reason not to give you what you want. She said, “All I know about Jan is his professional reputation—which is excellent. I don’t know anything about his private life.”
“So you would not rule that out? As an explanation, I mean.”
“I couldn’t, no,” Heikki answered. She was quite certain that Slade had noticed the changed verb, but the troubleshooter gave no overt sign of it.
“Mm.” Slade turned away again, back toward the window. The light was fading as the sun rose into a thin haze of cloud, the shed roof no longer flaming against the dull green of the distant hill. “There is one other question, which I must apologize in advance for asking. Is there any possibility that this account is a fabrication, that Ser Sebasten-Januarias is using this to cover up, say, navigational or general error on his part?”
That’s going a little too far, Heikki thought. I’m willing to go along with you if you want to declare there’s no connection with the latac crash—no harm to me either way—but I’m not about to see the kid’s reputation destroyed. “No possibility at all. He’s too good to have to lie like that.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Slade said. He did not sound particularly relieved, merely thoughtful, and Heikki hid a frown of her own. I have a nasty feeling, she thought, that I’ve just defined all too precisely just how far I’m willing to compromise. It was not a pleasant thought.
“Well, it was a possibility that had to be mentioned,” Slade said, with sudden affability. “I’m glad you think it can be discounted. And since you don’t think this is necessarily connected with our crash….” He let his voice trail off. When Heikki did not respond to the invitation, he smiled and continued, “I don’t think we need be concerned unless further evidence turns up.”
It was virtually an order, and Heikki could not quite hide her frown. “As you say,” she answered, but knew the other heard the insincerity in her voice.
Slade touched the shadowscreen that lay discarded on his desk, and a few moments later Neilenn tapped discreetly at the door.
“Ser Slade?”
“Would you see Dam’ Heikki back to her ‘cat, please, Jens?” Slade smiled. “Thank you for being willing to see me on such short notice, Dam’ Heikki.”
Despite her best intentions, Heikki choked on the formula of polite response. “Not at all,” she managed at last, and saw Slade’s smile waver. It was only for a fraction of a second, but she winced inwardly. Slade had never been less than an enemy, of that she felt sure, but now she had pushed him into something more than mere passive opposition. Damn all ‘pointers, she thought, momentarily all Iadaran, and then common sense reasserted herself. She had obliquely insulted him, true, but she had also obliquely agreed to back him in his desire to keep the planetary police from connecting the attack on Sebasten-Januarias with the downed latac. Even if she’d annoyed him, he needed her for that—and that should be enough to hold him, she thought, at least until we can get back to the Loop. Still, she was frowning as she followed Neilenn back to his runabout, and the sense of unease did not leave her as she restarted the fastcat and eased it slowly out of the compound, moving against the stream of traffic arriving for the day shifts.
Her uneasiness did not abate as she brought the ‘cat into the underground workbay. There was no point in it, she knew—she could not change what she had already done—but she could not help wishing she knew more about what had happened, and why Slade cared. Well, maybe Sten’s picked up something, she thought, and levered herself up out of the ‘cat. The underground level was relatively crowded, she saw with some relief, perhaps half a dozen vehicles of various types drawn into the bays, each one attended by a driver or two in loose- fitting coveralls badged with company logos at throat and shoulder. One or two looked up as she made her way toward the connecting archway, but no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to her arrival. As she reached the arch itself, however, she was joined by a stocky, good-looking woman whose dark-blue coveralls bore a silver crescent at the neck. Heikki gave her a polite smile, and was remotely pleased when the woman smiled back.
“Dam’ Heikki?”
