Her eyes circled back to the Valiant. "Part of it."
"Part of it." His intercom sounded. He broke off, listened, told the machine he'd take care of the matter later, and looked back at her. "What truth have you discovered?"
What truth indeed? That the Valiant is a replica of the thing the Tripley mission encountered on the far side of St. Johns? That the Hunter was invaded by something unearthly?-How else explain what happened?-She was gazing at the Valiant as if it were a sacred object. "Tell me again where this came from," she said.
He looked at it, puzzled. "What has that to do with anything?"
"Humor me, Ben."
He shrugged. "My grandmother gave it to me."
She got up and went over to it, looked at it, and ran her fingers across the shell. "May I?"
"Of course."
She picked it up and gazed casually at it. "I'd like to have one of these made up for my nephew."
He glanced at the spacecraft. "I can get you a sketch if you like."
"I'd appreciate it."
"It is a lovely piece."
"I think I mentioned before it belonged originally to my father."
She nodded. "Your grandmother passed it along to you."
Muscles worked in his jaw. "That's correct. I assume she told you that."
"I'm sorry about that, too," she said.
"It's all right. You've caught me in a generous mood." He softened. "Why the interest? Why do you care about it?"
"Bear with me a moment and I'll tell you." She held it under a lamp, letting its polished gleam sink into her fingertips. "When you were a boy, did it bother you that it had no propulsion tubes? No main engines? No way to get from one place to another?"
"Kim," he said, perplexed, "what are we talking about here?"
She laid it before him, set it down on his desk, and then held out a picture of Kane's mural. He took it from her, glanced at it, then gazed intently at the turtle-shell ship in Emily's hand. He looked at the Valiant, frowned, and turned on a desk lamp. "Where did you get this?" he asked.
"It's on a wall in Markis's villa."
His attention moved back and forth between the picture and the replica. "It's the same, isn't it?"
"Looks like it."
"What the hell is it doing in one of Kane's sketches?" Genuinely surprised, he put the picture down, placed both palms under the model's superstructure, lifted it, and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. She watched him examine it, studying its antennas and sensor dishes and hatches. Here along the lower hull was a long door that might have led to a cargo hold or a launch bay for a lander. There was the familiar ring antenna used for hypercomm transmissions. Here was a pod that, to a boy, might have concealed a missile cluster.
Then his face changed, grew dark. He hefted the vehicle and his brow furrowed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know." He was staring at the model, weighing it with his hands. "It feels lighter than it used to."
He set it down and scratched the back of his neck. He ran his fingertips along the aft section. "That's strange," he said, puzzled.
She watched his eyes narrow.
"The rear hull should have a crease in it. But it's not there."
"I don't follow."
"There was a dent in the hull. Nothing you'd see unless you were looking closely." He stared at the model. "And the gun's different."
Kim noticed for the first time that a short metal stud jutted out of the Valiant's nose. "Different how?"
He touched it with his index finger. "Rounded muzzle," he said.
"And?"
"It should have a rough feel. Whatever was on there originally was broken off."
"You're saying what? That the model's been repaired? Or-?"
"-This isn't mine. It's a replica."
"You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." He set it down on the desk and stared at it. "I'll be damned if I can figure this out."
He picked up the picture of Kane's mural. Then he punched a key on the intercom. "Mary, would you come in a moment, please?"
Mary put her head in the door. She was the dark-skinned female from the outer office. "Yes, Mr.
Tripley?"
He directed her attention to the Valiant. "This is a duplicate," he said. "Do you know what happened to the original? Did somebody break it and get another one?"
"No, sir," she said. "Not that I know of."
"I'll be damned if I understand that," he said when she was gone. His gaze turned toward Kim. "Do you know anything about this?"
"No." She was running her own fingers over the model, trying to find the dent. "Had it always been damaged?" she asked.
"As long as I can remember."
"Odd," she said. She glanced at the time and stood. "Well, I don't want to take up your day, Ben. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused, and that I'm sure when the whole story comes out your father's reputation will be intact."
He was watching her, holding her with his eyes. "Tell me what you know about the Valiant."
She shook her head. "I just did. I saw it in the mural. I thought you might know how that happened."
"I've no idea," he said, subsiding.
"I appreciate your time, Ben." She started for the door.
"It's okay." He got up this time. "Thanks for coming by. You'll let me know if you find out what's going on? With my starship?"
"Of course," she said.
She could feel him watching her while she walked to the lift.
Kim rode up to the main concourse, trying to sort it out. Why would anyone steal the replica? She got slowly off and joined the crowd moving purposefully along the promenade, where observation areas provided a magnificent view of the ocean world.
Why?
She walked slowly through the mall considering the possibilities, wandering among the shops. The shops were mostly souvenir and clothing stores. There was a Translux, which sold travel packages, on- and off- world. And a cosmetologist. And a Loki's, which specialized in games and puzzles. They'd put a poster in the window, an artist's drawing of the type that twists perspective. In this one a staircase seemed to rise from landing to landing around the inside of a hall, before reconnecting eventually, without a visible descent, with the bottom of the stairway. One would climb these stairs forever without getting anywhere.
Yet it was hard to see where the perspective changed, how the stairway got back to the bottom.
And she realized why the Valiant had been taken. And by whom.
Ten minutes later she was back outside Interstellar's main offices. She opened the door, hoping to see only Mary, but prepared with a story in the event she ran into Ben again.
The assistant was alone at her desk. She looked up as Kim went in.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Brandywine. Did you forget something?"
"A pen," she said, making a show of examining the couch she'd sat in when she'd first arrived. "Oh yes, here it is." She produced one out of her sleeve and held it up where it could be seen.
"Well," Mary said, "that was easy enough."
"Yes." Kim was walking slowly toward the door, apparently fumbling to return the pen to its normal place in a breast pocket. She paused in front of the desk. "Mary, I wonder if you could tell me something?"
"Yes, if I can."
"The business with Mr. Tripley's decorative starship. Is there a security problem here?"
"Oh, no. Not that I'm aware of. That's the first time I've heard of anything being taken. I'm sure it'll show up. Somebody probably moved it during cleaning or something."
"The cleaning crew comes in at-?"
"-Night."
Finally, everything was beginning to make sense. It was all a matter of perception, and she'd been as blind as Tripley. Who would have thought?
She rode the lift down in high spirits, and caught the train to Blanchet Preserve. From there she took a cab to Tempest, giving it Sheyel's address. On the way, she rehearsed what she would say, a mixture of admonition and congratulations. She was in a blissful mood and ready to celebrate, half expecting to see him stride triumphantly out of the house during her approach. He'd know once he saw her coming that she'd figured it out, and he'd be anxious to show her the trophy.
There was, of course, an ethical problem in all this, but she put it aside as the taxi glided through the warm afternoon sunlight. Time enough to think about that later. Anyway it wouldn't be a question of stealing anything. Sheyel, like herself, just wanted to solve a long-standing puzzle. And make a point.
And by God were they ever going to make a point!
The treetops opened up and she was circling his house. Inside, the AI would be informing him of the approaching visitor, of the descending cab, but the doors stayed shut.
She settled to earth, paid up, and got out.
The taxi lifted off.
She strode up to the front entrance. The house stared silently back at her. "Sheyel," she said.
"Congratulations."
The afternoon was pleasant and still. Insects hummed and a blue jay watched her curiously from the lip of a fountain.
"Sheyel?"
A gentle breeze sighed in the treetops.
She looked at the empty windows. The jay took off and landed on the roof.
Kim tried her commlink. A female voice came on the line: "I'm sorry. Dr. Tolliver is not available at the moment. If you wish to leave him a message, please do so."
"This is Kim Brandywine," she told the AI. "I'm doing some work for Dr. Tolliver. He'll want to know about it forthwith. Can you please put me in touch with him?"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Brandywine. But he does not like to be disturbed. When he calls in, I'll be certain to tell him you've been trying to contact him."
And it shut off.
Where was he? She should have called before coming all the way out here, but she'd assumed he'd be home, and she'd wanted to take him unawares. And to help him celebrate his coup properly. In person.
She walked around the house, but saw no one, inside or out.
Where would he have gone?
Only one place she could think of.
Sheyel had always maintained that few actions are driven by reason. People act out of emotion, perception, prejudice. They will believe what they've always believed, filtering out all evidence to the contrary. Until they go too far and run onto the rocks of reality.
If she was guessing right about Sheyel, he was about to run onto a few rocks himself.
She called Shep on the commlink.
"I need you to do something for me."
"Of course, Kim."
"I want you to design an entity."
"Beg pardon?"