throat. But surprisingly, no tears came now.
Torkild was dead, which was hard enough to handle. She would never see him again, never get a chance to apologize, never get to talk to him.
She should have warned him about all of the anger at him and S 3 .
She should have told him how high passions were on the Moon. Torkild had never been good at understanding how the average human being reacted to anything.
He wouldn’t have understood just how hated he and S 3 were.
Berhane? The contact came through her company link. It was Kaspian. He had probably heard about Torkild.
She sat up and wiped at her eyes. She left the visuals off. She didn’t want Kaspian to know how upset the news made her.
You there, Berhane? We have a problem.
She straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard before answering. I know about Torkild.
Zhu? What about him?
She felt startled. How could she know this before Kaspian did?
He’s dead. You didn’t know?
What’d he kill himself? Kaspian made it sound like that had been the recommended option. No one who cared about Berhane liked Torkild.
No , she sent. He was murdered.
Silence. For a moment, she thought the link had broken. And then Kaspian sent, I’m sorry, Berhane. I was being really insensitive. He was murdered? By who?
They don’t know, she sent. My dad says the reports are that the police killed him.
Again, silence. Obviously Kaspian’s first response wasn’t something he wanted to share.
I’m sorry, Berhane, he sent again.
Yeah, she sent. Me too.
Followed by the third silence. The train was slowing as it approached the Growing Pits. Accidents along this route decades ago had mandated a change in a train’s speed as it went through here. It had to be able to sense something in its path and have enough time to stop.
The longest part of the thirty-minute trip between Armstrong and Littrow was this section by the Growing Pits.
So , she sent when it became clear that Kaspian had nothing more to say, why did you contact me?
I need you to talk to the labs. That response came quickly. Clearly, he was more comfortable discussing this. We’re getting weird results.
The labs handled the DNA identification. Most of the labs she was working with were off-Moon. The on-site labs were swamped with official business or understaffed due to all the tragedies.
What kind of weird results? she asked.
I think they’re false identifications , Kaspian sent, but I don’t know for sure. I initially worried that one of our volunteers was tampering with the DNA, but these results are coming from sites all over the Moon.
Berhane wiped her eyes again, her brain clearing. She needed something like this to focus on so she wasn’t thinking about Torkild.
I’ll be in the office in about twenty minutes, she sent. We can talk then.
Good, Kaspian sent. Because I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.
NINE
NOELLE DERICCI WAITED until Flint and Talia left the office, and then sank down onto the couch. She wanted to pull the scrunched-up blanket over her head.
She was losing track of all the threads of the investigation. Just today, everything had moved forward. She had spoken to Wilma Goudkins about doing an off-books investigations of Jhena Andre and of Mavis Zorn at the Impossibles.
DeRicci had new information from Bartholomew Nyquist that he was getting from one of the Peyti clones who had tried to bomb the Moon, a lawyer they all knew, named Uzvaan. And, DeRicci was certain, there were dozens of other breakthroughs as well.
This new contact, the one Flint had told her about, made her queasy. Well, queasier. Her stomach was beginning to hurt her in general. She wasn’t certain if that was because she’d been eating junk the last six months or because she hadn’t been eating enough or because she was under so much stress some part of her was going to break—and her stomach had volunteered.
She bowed her head and let the queasiness overtake her. She was
Torkild was dead, which was hard enough to handle. She would never see him again, never get a chance to apologize, never get to talk to him.
She should have warned him about all of the anger at him and S 3 .
She should have told him how high passions were on the Moon. Torkild had never been good at understanding how the average human being reacted to anything.
He wouldn’t have understood just how hated he and S 3 were.
Berhane? The contact came through her company link. It was Kaspian. He had probably heard about Torkild.
She sat up and wiped at her eyes. She left the visuals off. She didn’t want Kaspian to know how upset the news made her.
You there, Berhane? We have a problem.
She straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard before answering. I know about Torkild.
Zhu? What about him?
She felt startled. How could she know this before Kaspian did?
He’s dead. You didn’t know?
What’d he kill himself? Kaspian made it sound like that had been the recommended option. No one who cared about Berhane liked Torkild.
No , she sent. He was murdered.
Silence. For a moment, she thought the link had broken. And then Kaspian sent, I’m sorry, Berhane. I was being really insensitive. He was murdered? By who?
They don’t know, she sent. My dad says the reports are that the police killed him.
Again, silence. Obviously Kaspian’s first response wasn’t something he wanted to share.
I’m sorry, Berhane, he sent again.
Yeah, she sent. Me too.
Followed by the third silence. The train was slowing as it approached the Growing Pits. Accidents along this route decades ago had mandated a change in a train’s speed as it went through here. It had to be able to sense something in its path and have enough time to stop.
The longest part of the thirty-minute trip between Armstrong and Littrow was this section by the Growing Pits.
So , she sent when it became clear that Kaspian had nothing more to say, why did you contact me?
I need you to talk to the labs. That response came quickly. Clearly, he was more comfortable discussing this. We’re getting weird results.
The labs handled the DNA identification. Most of the labs she was working with were off-Moon. The on-site labs were swamped with official business or understaffed due to all the tragedies.
What kind of weird results? she asked.
I think they’re false identifications , Kaspian sent, but I don’t know for sure. I initially worried that one of our volunteers was tampering with the DNA, but these results are coming from sites all over the Moon.
Berhane wiped her eyes again, her brain clearing. She needed something like this to focus on so she wasn’t thinking about Torkild.
I’ll be in the office in about twenty minutes, she sent. We can talk then.
Good, Kaspian sent. Because I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.
NINE
NOELLE DERICCI WAITED until Flint and Talia left the office, and then sank down onto the couch. She wanted to pull the scrunched-up blanket over her head.
She was losing track of all the threads of the investigation. Just today, everything had moved forward. She had spoken to Wilma Goudkins about doing an off-books investigations of Jhena Andre and of Mavis Zorn at the Impossibles.
DeRicci had new information from Bartholomew Nyquist that he was getting from one of the Peyti clones who had tried to bomb the Moon, a lawyer they all knew, named Uzvaan. And, DeRicci was certain, there were dozens of other breakthroughs as well.
This new contact, the one Flint had told her about, made her queasy. Well, queasier. Her stomach was beginning to hurt her in general. She wasn’t certain if that was because she’d been eating junk the last six months or because she hadn’t been eating enough or because she was under so much stress some part of her was going to break—and her stomach had volunteered.
She bowed her head and let the queasiness overtake her. She was
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