Part 31 (1/2)

Merced looked disgusted. ”That kills it. We're back at square one again.”

”Not necessarily,” Mataroreva told him. ”They found some. Twelve, to be exact. They didn't show on your list of recovered materials,” and he indicated the still glowing screen of the viewer that Merced had been studying, ”because all the edibles, for example, were grouped together. What's more,” and his eyes gleamed, ”all twelve were damaged. Now, friends, what does that suggest to you?”

”Twelve!” Amazing how everything is falling into place, Cora thought. ”All broken. If animals had been responsible, they would have emptied the twelve and left the others. Instead, it seems we've exactly the op- posite situation.” She looked at Merced. ”How many containers did the town manifest list as ready for s.h.i.+p- ment?”

”Eight hundred.”

”Seven hundred and eighty-eight unaccounted for, hmmm? Allowing for dispersal by wind and wave,”

and she nodded to Rachael, ”I'd say that left rather a

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large number which have unaccountably disappeared.”

”Even allowing for extreme weather,” Merced agreed. ”It would normally be expected that some- what more than twelve should have been recovered.

If animals were involved, they would not break into sealed cases and leave a dozen that were already open.” He glanced at their guide. ”What about con- tainer fragments?”

Mataroreva shook his head. ”Uh-uh. Only the twelve. No pieces.”

”Couldn't they have been listed with other contain- ers of approximately the same size and composition?”

”No,” he said positively, ”Each polymultiene crate is stamped with the name of its town, the day it's sealed with whatever it's holding, who provided the contents, and most importantly, the contents them- selves. The searchers found other containers, but none holding Teallin.”

”Well.” Cora slapped both hands on her knees, stood up. ”That's that, then. No more mystery. Some- how a group of belligerents-local, human, or off- world-are raiding the floating towns and destroying any evidence that could implicate them.”

”Pirates,” Rachael said.

”Oh, Rachael, I'm not sure such an archaic term-”

”Why not?” Mataroreva asked. ”As many millions of credits, as many deaths, as we have? I can't think of a more appropriate term.”

They split, Merced to recheck his lists, Rachael to strum her neurophon. She kept the range down, and Cora left the stimulating projections behind as she walked up on deck and moved to the stem of the s.h.i.+p. Mataroreva went with her.

. ”But why?” she muttered, staring down into the clear water. Purple and yellow fish drifted beneath her, vanished under the stem. ”Whole towns, entire populations?. . .”

”H you kill ten people or a thousand, the penalties

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are the same,” Sam told her softly. ”Once the first step, the first multiple murder, is committed to cover one's tracks, subsequent actions become routine.

You'll be wiped and personality reimprinted for the first as much as for the second and third. Why risk

witnesses?”

”I suppose you're right.” She tried to consider the

situation coldly, as a question of statistics and not of individual lives. ”At least we know what we're looking

for now, if not who.”

”I imagine they're from off-planet,” he speculated.