"The trapdoor leading to the stairs was closed when we arrived, bolted from beneath. Commandant Geyrrin entered first, I believe, and I followed him."
"The trapdoor was locked from without, but not from within?" asked Reanyn. "You are certain?"
Trielle nodded. "Absolutely. The deadbolt was thrown from below—you can see that it is a sturdy piece of metal, difficult to move—but once the commandant had shifted it back, there was little difficulty in raising the door."
"And Geyrrin preceded you into the room?"
She nodded again. "Yes, but only by a few seconds. I was right behind him."
"And what was the first thing you noticed upon entering?"
She shrugged. "There wasn't much to see, really. The place was empty and quiet. And Colonel Alynium's body was on the table, blood pooling beneath. He was dead before we arrived; looked like he'd died the moment the crossbow bolt entered his body. His expression was... one of surprise, I think. Yes, surprise."
Reanyn moved to the table. "He was laying on this? How?"
Trielle stepped forward to show. "Here," she said, pointing, "he was... not so much laying on it as... well his legs dangled from the side and he was lying face up but slanted diagonally. It looked as if the force of the killing blow had sent him reeling backwards to stumble onto the table."
"Hmm," said Reanyn. "And his wounds?"
"Just one, that we could find. A crossbow bolt of scro design had struck him in the middle chest, just grazing the heart. You'll find that born out in the autopsy report."
Reanyn glanced at her. "You said the bolt was scro. Why do you say that?"
"The shaft protruded from the bone a few inches. It wasn't a standard Imperial bolt, that was obvious at a glance. The feathering and ritualistic markings matched scro weaponry we've captured in the past."
Reanyn stared at her. "Interesting... very interesting indeed."
"Hardly that," she said. "It is obvious. A scro killer; a scro weapon."
"Obvious? Why would a scro infiltrator be armed with weaponry that might betray him? One assumes that a well- trained infiltrator's first instinct would be to blend in in every way possible. If he made his way onto the station without being challenged, it is perfectly obvious he—or she—was posing as an elf. And yet this person, professional enough to pass security checkpoints on the Fleet's most secret and guarded base, is still amateur enough to use scro weapons—weapons that could betray his identity at a glance."
Trielle shook her head. "Maybe... maybe it was some sort of political message. Maybe the infiltrator had orders to use weaponry that would identify this as the handiwork of the scro, so that they could claim the act later."
"Maybe," said Reanyn noncommittally, "but why? We are already at war. What advantage would it give the scro? It would put their operative at risk for no reason." He looked around at the rest of the room. "Nothing else was in disarray?"
She nodded. "Everything else was in perfect order. The chamber was just as you see it now. Empty. And as you'll see once you've spoken to the ensign, that should be impossible. But somehow the murderer got out, though it wasn't through the trapdoor or down the steps."
Reanyn contemplated the room in silence for a moment. "Who touched the body first?" he asked at last.
"Commandant Geyrrin." The answer was prompt and certain. "I am only his third. When someone as politically important as Colonel Alynium is murdered, you can be damn sure that only the chief investigator is going to touch the body. The commandant first determined that the colonel was dead—he was—and then examined the room, taking measurements of the body's position, looking for any unnatural substances on the floor or signs of the intruder. There was nothing."
"And this Ensign Kelvor—the eye witness. Who is he and what was he doing here?"
"He's an apprentice mapmaker. Been on station for less than a year, according to personnel records. He works here - in the tower I mean, not the Astrolabe itself."
"I'm assuming that with an instrument as important as the Astrolabe is, not every fresh young apprentice mapmaker is allowed to go wandering around in it at any hour he chooses," said Reanyn. "Why was he up here?"
"He was sent," said Trielle, "by Taisro himself. His errand was to find Second Lieutenant Dainvillo. And no, ordinarily young ensigns are not permitted to wander into the Astrolabe. Though technically—since he is posted and assigned to the Tower of the Astrolabe—Ensign Kelvor does have clearance. He had been here a half-dozen times before, always on some errand for one of his superiors."
"Major Taisro sent him? Who is this Lieutenant Dainvillo?"
"He's one of Admiral Nyntoch's men. Ordinarily he wouldn't even be in the Tower of the Astrolabe at all, but on this particular day he happened to be within the walls, searching for an old spherechart that Nyntoch had requested. Taisro attended to the matter personally, but there was some difficulty in finding the chart."
"Then why would Dainvillo be in the Astrolabe?"
"Taisro eventually found the chart, but he was unable to find Dainvillo. The second lieutenant had been left in one of the waiting rooms on the lower levels of the tower, but Taisro had told him that the search could take some time, and—as Dainvillo had clearance—invited him to take a look around the tower if he so chose. When the spherechart was found, Dainvillo couldn't be found. Taisro sent Ensign Kelvor to check the Astrolabe as an afterthought."
Reanyn was surprised. "Security within the Tower is as lax as that? That any visiting officer can wander into the Astrolabe unchallenged?"
Trielle shook her head. "Actually, security is very tight here. As you must have noted, the information the Astrolabe contains is vitally important to the war effort. But the whole tower is one security zone; if you have clearance to get in, then you have clearance to go anywhere within it you so choose. There aren't security checkpoints at every level, because the people who work here have to travel back and forth very frequently while attending to duties. And the sensitive intelligence about Fleet movements can be obtained just as easily on level one as in the Astrolabe itself. The Astrolabe is merely a device for conveying that information for the convenience of the Council of Admirals."
Reanyn considered this. "So there is a rigid security checkpoint at the base of the building, but once you've passed that, you have clearance to go anywhere you like?"
"Basically. Which is why Taisro entertained the notion that Dainvillo might have wandered up to take a look at the Astrolabe. Which would have been understandable—it is a very impressive device. Even though Dainvillo did not have voice clearance to operate it."
"And was that the case? What did Ensign Kelvor see when he came up here?"
"He saw Colonel Alynium murdered," said Trielle gravely. She pointed to the trapdoor. "The ensign found the trapdoor closed, but not bolted. He just raised it slightly, sticking his head up to look within. He says he saw the colonel facing off with another officer—it looked like an elf, but the other man's back was to the ensign. He's absolutely certain that it wasn't Dainvillo; the second lieutenant has short black hair. This man had mid-length blond hair. And there's something else. Kelvor swears he saw antennae sprouting from the man's head. We're thinking that means it was an Insectare. You are familiar?"
Reanyn gave a terse nod. He knew very well about the `false elves' that the goblinoids had bio-engineered. They looked like elves... but weren't. "That's all the ensign saw?"
She shrugged. "Well, nearly. Kelvor stuck his head up for just a instant, but he saw enough. He says that the colonel and the other man were facing each other squarely. He had the impression that they were arguing, though he doesn't remember hearing any shouting as he approached. The other man—the one with the antennae—raised his right hand and fired a crossbow bolt at the colonel. The colonel shrieked once and fell back on the table. And Kelvor fled."
"What?" asked Reanyn, offended. "A soldier in the Imperial Fleet witnesses an attack on a superior officer and flees? The colonel's life might have been saved. The ensign should be court-martialed for desertion!" He was honestly incensed; even in the thick of battle, soldiers did not abandon their companions.
"Actually he was following standard procedure," said Trielle. "His military rank is only a title; few if any of the scholars who staff the tower have any combat training whatsoever. In crisis, the proper action is to contain the threat and notify the knights. Kelvor probably didn't know that; he was just fleeing. But he pulled the trapdoor to and bolted it from below and raced immediately to the nearest guardsmen—Imperial Knights Lystress and Brale who were posted one floor down. When the knights returned, they found the trapdoor bolted as it is now. Upon entering, they discovered Alynium's body. His attacker had vanished, though where he could have gone is a mystery we really never found an answer for."
"There is no way he could have opened the trapdoor from the inside?" asked Reanyn.
She shook her head. No physical way we could find, and the lock didn't look forced."
"What about sorcery?"
Again she shook her head. "It's impossible to rule it out, but it is most unlikely. This station is empowered by a mythal—you knew that? Well the sorceries involved in the mythal have very specific side-effects. The Astrolabe is a powerful center of magical force on the station, as you might well imagine, and when the station was designed this tower was afforded certain special... defensive effects by the mythal. One of them is that any and all spellcasting within the Astrolabe is rendered impossible. Mages simply cannot access the magic. This was done as a protective measure for those using the Astrolabe, as the magical forces which power it could be very dangerous if allowed to mix with the forces of outside spells. One simple mistake in spellcasting could start a reaction which would destroy the Astrolabe and most of the tower."
Reanyn stooped to touch the locking mechanism on the trapdoor. It didn't look scratched or marred, and he could find no way of manipulating it from the far side. "Suppose our attacker did managed to work the bolt from the inside, some way that we haven't figured out. He could have fled down the stairs before the knights returned."
Trielle shook her head. "There is only one set of stairs connecting the Astrolabe with the next level down. The knights were posted at the main door to that level. Ensign Kelvor was very specific in detailing his flight; not once did he leave the stairway. The knights confirm this, and it seems likely in any case to be true—as badly frightened as the ensign was, he certainly seems likely to have kept a wary eye on the staircase behind him, watching for pursuit. The attacker would not only have had to slip past a locked trapdoor, but he would have had to become invisible and slip past two knights and one very frightened ensign in a hall barely wide enough for two men to stand abreast."
Reanyn was silent a moment. "This second lieutenant. Dainvillo. The ensign said he wasn't up here. Where was he?"
Trielle shrugged. "It turned out that Dainvillo had returned to the Council of Admirals. His alibi was air- tight, we checked it. He was with Nyntoch."
Reanyn considered. "Taisro said that the ensign was here. I think it's time I had a word with him."
Trielle nodded. "I'll fetch him."
Ensign Kelvor was a very young high elf with nervous eyes, curly red hair cropped short, and a slight stutter. At one-hundred and three years of age he was scarcely out of adolescence. At the moment he looked like he wished he were anywhere but standing before Reanyn.
"And you were at the trapdoor?" Reanyn was asking.
"Yes, sir," came the stammered reply. "I mean... I mean no, sir, I wasn't at the trapdoor. Just looking through it, sir, to see if the.. if the second lieutenant was up here."
"But he wasn't here."
The ensign shook his head emphatically. "No sir. But they were... the colonel and the man who killed him. The insect... thing."
"Insectare," said Reanyn brusquely. "You can say it aloud, ensign. A bio-engineered creature, part elf, part insect, created for the express purpose of infiltration. And you think you saw one."
"I'm not really sure what I saw, sir. Whatever it was, it killed the colonel. I saw that clearly enough."
"Describe it."
"The one that did it—the one with his back to me—he raised his hand and fired his weapon at the colonel. That was it, sir."
"Which hand?"
The ensign was thoughtful. "The right, sir. I think."
"Be certain," said Reanyn. He pointed to the trapdoor. "Get over there, show me exactly where you were standing, and relive it in your mind."
Hesitantly the ensign made his way to the trapdoor, stepping down on the steps beneath. "Here... here, I think," he said uncertainly, turning back to face Reanyn. "I think I was standing here."
"And you had thrown the trapdoor completely open?" asked Reanyn dryly.
The ensign gave him a wide-eyed look. "No.. no, sir," he admitted. "I was holding it above my head with one hand. Just partially open."
"Then hold it over your head, ensign," said Reanyn. "I told you to stand in exactly the same position."
Quickly the ensign scrambled to haul the trapdoor over himself. His efforts were almost comical; from where he stood within the stairwell he could not get enough leverage to lift the heavy trapdoor, though he struggled vainly. Finally, with a nervous, apologetic look at Reanyn, he scrambled out of the hole and lifted the trapdoor halfway, then entered the stairwell again and pulled it down over himself. "I was like this, sir."
"And how far away was the colonel?"
The ensign pointed. "Over there, sir. Right in front of the table."
Reanyn walked to where the young elf had pointed. "Here?"
"A step back, sir. Or thereabouts. And facing a little more to the left."
Reanyn nodded.
"I believe that Commandant Geyrrin made notations of all this, high captain," interjected Major Taisro. (Taisro had returned with Trielle and the ensign and had watched Reanyn's interrogation in silence until now.)
"Just the same I would like to hear what the ensign has to say, major," said Reanyn, polite but firm. "There may be some clue in it."
Taisro only nodded. "I apologize for interrupting. Please continue."
Reanyn looked back to the ensign. "This is where the colonel was standing. Where was the other man?"
The ensign pointed. "Just there, sir, not half a pace from the colonel and facing towards him."
Reanyn was surprised. "Here?" he asked, moving to where the ensign had pointed. It was indeed scarcely a pace away from where he had been standing a moment before.
"Yes sir," said the ensign. "Just there."
"You're certain?"
"Well... yes, sir. Absolutely." The ensign appeared confused at the question.
Reanyn looked at Trielle. "You said that the bolt was protruding from the colonel's chest."
She nodded, uncertain why he was dwelling on the point. "Yes, about two inches of the shaft was visible."
He smiled. "Including the feathers and markings which indicated scro crafting, correct?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Simply because it is, in my experience, absolutely impossible." He held his hands apart. "The approximate distance between the colonel and his so-called assailant was perhaps two feet. Let us err on the side of generosity and say it was actually three and a half. I've seen scro crossbows at work before. You fire one at a man at that point blank distance and there won't be any shaft sticking out of him. The bolt will fly straight through him and emerge on the other side, taking about a big chunk of meat as it passes."
"But sir," protested the ensign, "I saw it."
"No," said Reanyn. "You saw something. What you did not see was the second man killing the colonel. Not like that. It isn't possible. You said you saw the man raise his right hand. Are you certain you saw the crossbow?"
"Well... no, sir. But where else would the bolt have come from? Why else would he have raised his hand and pointed it towards the colonel?"
"Excellent questions," said Reanyn. He nodded towards the ensign. "You may go."
The young elf gave a quick nervous look around, surprised at being dismissed so quickly.
Trielle stepped to Reanyn's side after the youth had gone. "You think the ensign's story is flawed?" she asked. "That he is omitting something?"
Reanyn shook his head. "No, actually he strikes me as an honest man. Frightened, certainly, and probably not much of a soldier. But he's telling the truth. I believe he saw what he says he saw... but an eyewitness can be deceived by his own eyes." He had an intense, thoughtful expression on his face.
"What then?"
He glanced up towards the domed ceiling high above. "There are no other exits from the Astrolabe?" he asked, glancing towards Major Taisro and ignoring Trielle's question.
Taisro shook his head. "The crystal is wholly formed. There are no joints or cracks, no holes in it of any kind. Certainly no openings large enough for a man to escape through. That,"—he pointed to the trapdoor—"is the only way in or out of here."
"Trielle told me that the mythal here prevents spellcasting."
Taisro nodded. "In this chamber, yes."
"I assume that would include teleportation?"
"Yes, of course. Actually the mythal prevents teleportation anywhere on station."
A gleam came into Reanyn's eyes. "Interesting." He walked to the table.
"What is it?" asked Trielle.
"Just a thought. Major, you said the Astrolabe was an instrument expressly formed to create a gigantic illusion."
"Yes?"
"I assume that the illusion is programmable?"
"What?"
Reanyn looked at him. "When an elven scoutship discovers a new sphere beyond the boundaries of known space, they must report it to someone here, yes? And the mapped details of the new sphere are added to the Astrolabe by someone. So the illusion is modified. Correct?"
Taisro shrugged. "Yes. There a handful of people on the station who have clearance to modify the Astrolabe."
Reanyn glanced down at the table. "And you said that technically I, through the empowerment of my investigation, was qualified to command it? That my lawful commission as an investigative officer superceded all others, and that the mythal would recognize this?"
"Yes." Taisro was still uncertain what the younger officer was asking.
Reanyn nodded. "Astrolabe," he said in a crisp, clear voice, "deactivate all programmed illusions."
"It's already off," Taisro started to say, but at the same instant Trielle gave a little gasp.
Ten feet to Reanyn's right, along the curve of the wall where the crystal met the floor, the air flickered. An elven officer's body suddenly appeared, lying prone on the floor, his eyes staring sightlessly upwards.
"What in the spheres!" gasped Taisro.
Reanyn strode over to the body calmly, kneeling beside it. He looked up. "I believe we have found our missing insectare."
It looked like an ordinary, nondescript elf. Medium length silvery-brown hair framed a slender, handsome face, definitely male. Its expression was peaceful. The eyes were blue, and stared sightlessly upwards. The uniform it wore identified him as a lieutenant, third class. The body was laid on its back, arms at its sides and legs straightened. It looked like the man had simply laid down here and died.
Trielle was at Reanyn's side in two quick strides. "Is he... is it one of them?"
Reanyn nodded. "I've never seen one before, but yes, the body fits the description." He pointed. "See the eyes? Look closely."
She leaned over. From a distance they looked like ordinary blue eyes, but when she looked closer... "They're multifaceted!" she said with surprise.
Reanyn nodded. "Exactly." He touched the dead man's face then grunted in startlement, half jerking his hand away.
"What is it?" asked Trielle.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Well, nothing I shouldn't have expected. Here, feel."
She placed her palm on the dead man's forehead then jerked it back as if she had been burned. It was not skin that she felt beneath her fingertips but something angular, hard and slightly rough to the touch. "What in the Void!"
"Exoskeleton," said Reanyn. "Insectare aren't elven, they're insects. The exoskeleton is formed to imitate us."
Trielle shuddered. "Horrible," she said. "The feeling of that chitinous... thing. To think that something like this could walk among us... I've heard stories, everyone has. About things like this, bionoids and insectare and... just things. Never really believed them before. But here it is, in front of me. Just makes my skin crawl, that's all. Things like this shouldn't be allowed to live."
Reanyn glanced at her. "Evidently someone agrees with you," he said noncommittally. He looked back at the body. "And don't believe everything you hear. The Living Weapons served the Fleet honorably and well." He tugged back the collar of the dead man's uniform. The throat was a dark green color.
"What's that?" asked Trielle, leaning in again.
"His natural color," said Taisro. The major had recovered himself somewhat and was now at Trielle's shoulder.
Reanyn nodded. "He must have used makeup to change the coloring of the face to match that of a normal elf. Insectare are green." He touched the dead man's hair. "And of course he wore his hair long enough to hide his antennae." Carefully he parted some of the hair, looking for something. A moment later he had uncovered two spiky brown antennae which sprouted somewhere near the front of the dead man's scalp and lay folded back against his head, running down his neck and into the collar of the uniform.
"That must have been painful for him," murmured Taisro. When Reanyn and Trielle looked up at him, he explained. "Insectare have antennae for a reason; they use them. To smell, to taste, to sense the air, to communicate with each other. Obviously he was trained to fold them back to better blend in when he infiltrated elven forces, but it still must have been difficult. Imagine voluntarily giving up the use of your arms, that would be an apt comparison."
Reanyn nodded. "I imagine you're right. You seem to know a good deal about them. All I know is the basics."
Taisro shrugged. "Fleet intel on the Insectare is shared on a need-to-know basis, mostly because we don't really know that much about them, except that they exist. All officers of medium grade and higher were given a notice as to their existence and warnings on how to spot them—the green skin, the multifaceted eyes, the antennae. Junior officers and enlisted men aren't even officially aware of them."
Trielle nodded. "I've heard stories, but that's all. No official Fleet notices or anything like that."
"Yet you know more," said Reanyn, still looking at the major.
"Well," said Taisro, "I am not an unimportant man here on station. I run the Astrolabe, after all. Most Fleet communications and intel comes through here. I know a little about everything, and I read everything there was to read about insectare. Which wasn't much."
Reanyn nodded again, and looked at the body. "Then maybe you can answer a question for me."
"What's that?"
"I've been wondering about the smell."
Taisro looked lost. "Smell?"
"Yes. The smell of the decaying body. There isn't any."
"I don't understand."
Reanyn touched the body again. "If our insectare has really been lying here for seventeen days, why does he look like he just lay down here a few hours ago? Shouldn't there be some sign of decay? I had assumed that the Astrolabe's illusions might mask the smell, but even now, when I've deactivated it, there isn't any. And surely even if the smell was somehow suppressed, the body would show some wear and tear. And yet it looks fresh, undisturbed."
Taisro shook his head. "I'm no high mage, but I was always given to understand that the Astorlabe's illusions were strictly optical and auditory. I don't think it could effect smell."
Reanyn touched the body again, placing one hand under the dead man's wrist. He raised gently, and the dead man's arm lifted limply. "No rigor mortis," he said, then glanced at the major again. "Of course, all of this could be quite natural for a dead Insectare. Maybe they don't get rigor mortis. Maybe it takes longer for their bodies to break down."
Taisro shrugged helplessly. "If you're looking to me for answers, high captain, I'm afraid I'll disappoint you. Very little is known about their biology; I know of nothing which could explain the body's... freshness." He gave a weak grin. "Actually, I'm still getting over the shock of finding that the body was here in the first place."
"Yes," said Trielle suddenly, giving Reanyn a strange look, "how did you know? That the body was here, I mean. How could you have known?"
Reanyn shook his head. "I didn't. Not really. But the ensign saw a second person in the room, described him as an Insectare. And it didn't look like there was any way for him to get out. When the major told me that this whole chamber was the focus point for high-powered illusions, the thought occurred to me that someone could have programmed an illusion to hide the Insectare. I was just eliminating possibilities. Still, it raises more questions than answers."
"What do you mean?" asked Taisro. "I would have thought just the opposite: you've solved the mystery of where the colonel's killer went. The ensign saw an Insectare kill the colonel; now here he is."
Reanyn shook his head. "You aren't thinking it through, major. This man didn't kill the colonel. There must have been a third person in the room."
"How do you know?" asked Trielle.
"To begin with, Colonel Alynium was slain by a scro crossbow bolt. Where is the crossbow? Do you see it anywhere?" Reanyn shook his head. "Neither do I. And why is the insectare dead? He commits his crime, then somehow has time to reprogram the Astrolabe—a feat I am very certain any infiltrator would have to have help in achieving - then lays down and dies. Why?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."
He reached under the corpse's left shoulder with one hand and under its upper thigh with the other.
"What are you doing?" asked Taisro as he began to lift.
"Turning him over. I haven't found any wounds yet, and I'm wondering what killed him... ah, here..."
At first Trielle saw no sign of any wounds, but then Reanyn's fingers closed on a slender black sliver of wood which protruded ever so slightly from the back of the dead man's neck.
"A dart of some kind," he said, pulling it free of the tough exoskeleton. It was tiny, maybe slightly larger than a sewing needle. "Careful," he warned, passing it to her, "it's probably tipped with some sort of poison."
She took it from him gingerly. "What am I to do with it?"
"I assume there is someone on station who is familiar with alchemy? Perhaps someone who might be able to examine the dart and tell us what sort of poison it is tipped with?"
"The Mages Council in the High Keep could do something with it," Taisro offered helpfully. "Most of their duties lie in other directions, but I'm certain there is a resident alchemist housed there, along with a lab, though I confess I don't know the man's name."
Reanyn nodded, setting the body down. "And the body? Surely a dead Insectare would be of some interest to Fleet Intelligence and Bio-Engineering."
Again Taisro nodded. "I'll send an apprentice to the communications room right away." He moved to the trapdoor, then down.
"What are you looking for now?" asked Trielle. Reanyn was searching through the dead man's uniform.
He made no reply until he had searched thoroughly. Moments later he was still empty-handed. He sighed. "His uniform marks him as a lieutenant third class. I was hoping for something... some sort of identification, anything. And the ensign said he saw the insectare raise his right hand towards the colonel. If he wasn't holding a crossbow, then what?" He shook his head. "And yet there is nothing here. It is puzzling."
"Perhaps your `third man' took it from the body—whatever it was—before leaving."
"Perhaps," echoed Reanyn absently. He stared at the body for a moment, then a thoughtful look came into his eye. He leaned forward again, quickly unbuttoning the front of the uniform jacket.
Trielle watched as he opened the jacket and pulled it back. The dead man wasn't wearing an undershirt beneath it, and when Reanyn opened the jacket a powerfully muscled chest was revealed. The skin here was the same emerald green color as that on the back of the insectare's neck, and utterly hairless.
Reanyn wasn't concerned with the dead man's torso. Instead he had located an inner pocket on the inside lining of the jacket and was removing a small packet of papers from it.
"What is it?" asked Trielle, leaning forward to see better over Reanyn's shoulder as he unfolded the packet.
"Identification," said Reanyn triumphantly, his eyes scanning the page. "An official summons to Lionheart, clearance for a Lieutenant Morr—that must be him,"—his eyes darted down to the corpse—"to come on station. Nothing much else here, except... void, look who the authorizing signature is."
"Colonel Alynium!" said Trielle, clearly surprised.
Reanyn nodded. "Interesting, don't you think? Apparently the colonel authorized the summons and clearance for his own murderer to come on station."
Taisro had reappeared at the trapdoor. "I have contacted the High Keep, high captain. Several of the mages are en route already to retrieve the body."
Reanyn nodded, then handed the papers to Trielle. "I want to know everything—everything—about this `Lieutenant Morr'. What unit he was attached to, when he arrived on station, what ship he came on, what records the Fleet may have on him... everything."
She pursed his lips. "There should be some record of him in one of the processing guard towers at one of the docks... depending on which dock he entered by. That paperwork usually winds up in the Council of Admirals Tower eventually. It should exist, but it probably won't be easy to find. And that's if this clearance packet isn't a fake. The whole thing could be forged, including the colonel's signature."
Reanyn nodded, standing. "Surely Fleet Intelligence will have someone who can verify whether the document and signature are authentic. Find out. I want to know everything about Lieutenant Morr—how long he was on station, who he talked to while he was here, where he went, why he was even here in the first place. And then I want you to find out about Colonel Alynium. I want to know every movement he made in the two weeks prior to his death."
"Oh sure," she said wearily, "that'll be easy. Anything else?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. Someone reprogrammed the Astrolabe. I want a list of every person, past or present, who has the authority to do that. Whoever did it created and illusion so complex that not even the major realized that it was in effect. I think that's our biggest clue." He glanced down at the body again. "And find out from those bio-engineers over at the High Keep why the body wasn't in a state of decay."
"You think that could be important?" asked Taisro, curious.
Reanyn shrugged. "I don't know. It bothers me, that's all. There are any number of explanations. Maybe it has to do with insectare physiology. Maybe it's some magical preservative effect of the Astolabe. Maybe the poison the dart was tipped with did it." He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "Or maybe he hasn't been dead for seventeen days." He shook his head. "We won't know until someone qualified takes a look at it."
"That could take some time," said Trielle. "Those lab rats over in the Keep aren't going to hurry a chance to take a peek at a dead insectare... and they aren't likely to want to part with anything they find out either."
"Just make sure it gets done," said Reanyn. "My investigative authority should be enough leverage to push with. In the meantime, where can I locate this lieutenant, Dainvillo, who works for Admiral Nyntoch?"
Trielle shrugged. "The admiral's offices are in the Council of Admirals tower. Dainvillo works for Nyntoch; he shouldn't be too difficult to find. But why do you want to speak to him?"
Because I find it an incredible coincidence that this Dainvillo just happened to be searching for some map in the Astrolabe at the exact same time as the murder. Alibi or not, I want to question him, Reanyn thought. Aloud he said: "Just being thorough. What time is it local?"
Trielle glanced uncertainly at Taisro.
"Er, nearly fourteen bells," he said. "Why?"
"Bells?" asked Reanyn.
"Yes. One bell equals one hour, standard. We call them that because every hour the priests of Labelas Enorath sound the chime atop the Timeless Tower to announce the hour. The peal is soft and soothing, but can be heard nearly everywhere on station. There are twenty-two bells to a day here; we're in a slightly faster than standard orbit that takes us from the darkside to the lightside of the planet below."
"I see," said Reanyn. He turned to Trielle. "Lieutenant, we'll meet again at... two bells, and you can report what you've discovered in the meantime."
"Where?" she demanded.
"At your office."
"I don't have an office. I have a desk."
He nodded. "Fine. At your desk in Commandant Geyrrin's office."
