CHAPTER 17
“An injection wound was found on Chemist Nicolescu’s neck,” explained Konami, gesturing to the wide projection in the conference room. Captain Horovitz and Mayor Akunle had called an emergency department head meeting after Konami reported the senior chemist’s death and the breakthrough in DT1 Muahe’s case. “Preliminary analysis suggests that Nicolescu’s body reacted the same way that it would to certain types of neurotoxic venom, produced by some Earth animals.”
The shocked reactions – gasps, hands clapped over mouths, even department heads abruptly getting to their feet – in the room when the Chem Tech’s murder was revealed had almost brought a smile to Konami’s lips, even while he felt a bit guilty about the impulse. Finally, they’ll see what people are actually capable of. Even in this little fantasy world they’ve created. But he had to admit to himself that it wasn’t just a fantasy, at least not entirely. Aoteans were an agreeable folk, on the whole, and the rational part of his brain knew that he ought to be both pleased and honored to be a part of them. Even when the other part of his brain insisted on mockery and derision.
“Venom?” asked one of the Bigwigs, Wilson Paramis. “There are no snakes onboard Aotea.” The heavily built demographer chuckled openly, defying the tense atmosphere of the meeting.
“No snakes,” said Madani. “But I don’t think we’d have much trouble mixing up a synthetic venom.”
Another Bigwig, geneticist Mara Ngayabo, agreed.
Konami added that they hadn’t found a syringe.
After a pause, Captain Horovitz spoke up. “Director-Superintendent Akunle and I are treating Nicolescu’s death as a murder.”
Konami fought to hide the urge to snort after a clichéd round of gasps from the department heads, briefly waking up the cat Halifax from his slumber on the table next to the commanding officer. He collected himself, mentioning that this was not the first murder.
The captain agreed, and he took an incline of her head as license to speak. Konami had noticed no more reaction than the barest purse of her lips when he first explained the breakthrough in Muahe’s death to her and the mayor. On the other hand, Harry Akunle did nothing to hide his surprise.
Konami went through his findings from Fabrication, displaying the recordings and data for everyone to see. He made sure to make note of the contributions of Lieutenant Mattoso, who was undoubtedly fuming in the passageway for being kept out of the meeting. He explained, in detail, the proof that the anomalous filter was fabricated as defective on purpose.
The navigator, Commander Rusk, asked when the filter was ordered.
“It’s been only ordered a single time on record,” answered Konami, displaying the Fab order. “Days before Muahe’s murder.” Too late he realized Criswell might see this as baiting him, but the XO seemed to be as interested and attentive as everyone else present. Another asked who ordered it, and Konami explained that they were still trying to find out.
That prompted the captain to order that, going forward, there would be no more anonymous fabrication orders onboard.
A glance from the captain silenced a budding side conversation. “Taking all this into account,” said Konami. “We can conclude that the death was not accidental.”
“But the filter wasn’t replaced properly,” interjected Commander Argosi, the head of the Habitability Department. “Second Gustafson confessed, right?”
Konami was prepared for this, and displayed the signed statement of the Second-Class Maintenance and Repair technician. “It wasn’t a confession,” said Konami. “He just stated that he couldn’t remember if he followed procedure, and that it was possible that he failed to do so. But his record is otherwise exemplary, with no disciplinary actions at all. In my professional opinion, Second Gustafson was succumbing to a mixture of guilt and sadness over a colleague’s death, along with external pressure.”
“And it turns out to be immaterial in any case,” added the captain. “The filter that killed First Muahe was not the filter that Second Gustafson may or may not have replaced.” She turned to Commander Criswell and directed him to return Second Gustafson to duty. “A lesson from this,” she continued. “There will be no more rushing to judgment about junior crewpersons. Any disciplinary action going forward will go through the mayor and I. This ship and our mission will not survive without good morale for the crew, and morale will not survive if the crew believes the leadership is not on their side.” She met the eyes of every department head in turn. “Careers have been ruined, and lives have been lost, all because leaders no longer had the confidence of their team. That must not happen onboard. Is that clear?”
“Yes, captain,” came the unified response.
There were a few more questions about details of the case, but Konami was surprised to see that no one, including the XO, appeared skeptical of his conclusions.
“We are all agreed,” said the mayor, his characteristic smile absent. “We will be investigating two murders onboard. Correct?” He looked around the room, but no one dissented. “The chief inspector will continue his investigation, of course, which the captain and I agree is our highest priority, aside from continuing safe operations of Aotea. But there’s a larger question here. A murder requires a murderer. A killer among us. Perhaps even killers. Word will get out, if it hasn’t already, and people will be afraid.”
“Cameras,” suggested Lieutenant Commander Olin, the Comms/Signals officer. “For surveillance. We can put a nanocam above every door, at every junction—”
Chief Engineer Papka interjected, citing the charter and arguing that excessive invasion of privacy was one of the reasons for Aotea’s journey.
The meeting descended into a jumble of arguments until Captain Horovitz brought her palm down hard on the table. “Enough bickering.”
Konami jumped at the opening and read off his projection. “Section 5.13.2.b of the Charter: In response to shipwide emergencies, restrictions from subsection b.1 may be waived if both the Civil Executive and Operational Commanding Officer agree and declare Martial Alert.” Department heads scrambled to follow along on their own. Konami continued: “To continue Martial Alert beyond any thirty-day period, a majority vote of confidence from the Department heads is required for both the CE and the CO, and every thirty days thereafter, with the threshold to continue increasing by an additional single-vote supermajority each thirty day period.” He scrolled down, slightly confused by the arithmetic. “The restriction on unmanned cameras is one of the restrictions from subsection b.1. So according to the Charter, Captain and Mayor, if both of you agree, you may invoke this waiver.” For thirty days, at least.
The captain and mayor huddled together briefly, whispering. The three Bigwigs did the same. Hamad Maltin approached the captain and mayor, and after another minute, Captain Horovitz spoke, asking for more options.
Konami suggested more roving watches.
“The Constabulary won’t be enough,” cut in the XO. “Not even for a single Can. To cover both Cans, much less Ops and Engineering, we’ll need more deputies.”
Konami was surprised by Commander Criswell’s suggestion. A few department heads immediately offered their own personnel — they could go on three or four-section rotation for their own watch stations and would have several personnel left over to deputize.
“And they could carry cameras,” said Lieutenant Commander Olin. “No, seriously—” she added after Commander Papka groaned. “The Charter only bans unmanned or hidden cameras. It doesn’t say a thing about manned, visible cameras.”
“That’s true,” Konami agreed. “We can put a camera on every rover, and even every stationary watchstander. No special votes or waivers required, per the Charter.”
The captain and mayor huddled together again. This time the Bigwigs stayed away. “Very well,” announced Mayor Akunle. “Commander Chulanont, Fabrication will work with the Constabulary on the necessary camera specs. And the following departments will provide approximately one sixth of their fully qualified manning to the Constabulary to deputize: Propulsion and Power, Navigation/Operations, and Repair. Every other department will provide a list of personnel they can spare in case more are needed.”
Konami was dumbfounded — that would more than double his strength, if not triple. Maybe even more.
“Other business?” asked the mayor.
Konami’s mind wandered to the challenge of covering the entire ship with roving watches while the mundane business of Aotea was discussed. He had no stomach for “other business” when there was a double-murderer, or two murderers, onboard.