Dark as Day

32

Jan had eaten a little too much cultured lobster at the Belly of the Whale; or maybe it was the rich chocolate dessert that did not agree with her. At any rate, at the time of night when she normally would be in the deepest phase of her sleep cycle, she found herself poised on the edge of consciousness. Faint imagined voices spoke inside her head, their mutterings just too faint to be understood.

She lay flat on her back, her thigh in companionable contact with Paul’s. He was sleeping soundly, as always. He didn’t usually stay over at the research facility — Valnia Bloom somewhat frowned on the idea — but preparations for the next voyage of the Achilles were going smoothly. He had pleaded for one more chance to capture her in his painting. She was, he said, an unusually difficult subject. Something in her smile — a certain wistfulness, a certain longing — eluded him. He wanted to try first thing in the morning, when his hand was at its steadiest.

Jan opened her eyes and stared up into darkness. Suddenly she was fully awake. The voices were not in her head, they were real. They came from the monitor system in Sebastian’s apartment. Was he talking to himself, in his sleep?

Not unless his voice could change instantly from male to female and back.

She stared over at the video monitor and saw nothing. Sebastian’s living room was empty, and his kitchen and bedroom were dark.

“Paul.” She nudged him, and he muttered a sleepy protest. “Paul, there’s someone in with Sebastian.”

She poked him in the ribs again, harder, and swung out of bed.

“What was that for?” He was finally awake, and grumpy.

“Someone is in Sebastian’s apartment. In his bedroom, I think.”

“What of it? Isn’t he allowed visitors?”

“At this hour?” Jan was into her clothes and feeling around for her shoes. “Look at the time.”

“I just did. Everyone in their right mind is asleep — as I was.” But he was on the edge of the bed, feeling for clothing. “I feel sure that he’s all right.”

“Somebody is with him. I heard a woman’s voice.”

“Then it’s Dr. Bloom.”

“It isn’t. She told me she would be away from the facility tonight.”

“So she changed her mind.” But Paul also was looking for shoes. “Oh, all right. Go ahead, I know you’ll worry unless you see for yourself. I’ll follow you down.”

Jan gave him a quick kiss on the top of his tousled head and was on her way while he was still fumbling at the bedside.

Thirty seconds took her to the door of Sebastian’s apartment. It was ajar, when it ought to have been locked. Suddenly wary — this was a quarantine as well as a research facility, so no one should be able to enter — she eased the door open and quietly stepped inside.

The living room was deserted, but she heard voices coming from the bedroom. A man and a woman — and neither one was Sebastian.

She moved to stand at the bedroom door and listen.

The man’s voice said, “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to reach Bat for the past quarter of an hour on my wrist unit. He’s inaccessible.”

“Not answering?”

“Busy line. He’s talking to Bengt Suomi. He’s ignoring my request for a priority override.”

They had been speaking in whispers, but suddenly the woman said, in a louder voice, “Look, this is ridiculous. We’re creeping around like burglars. How important do you think this is?”

“I can only go by what other people have told me. Bat never gets flustered, and he’s never in a hurry. If he says something’s urgent, it has to be really urgent.”

“Then we should go outside and shout and scream until somebody comes along who can help us find Sebastian Birch. But let me try something before we do that. I left my talk unit back in the work cubicle. May I borrow yours?”

“It won’t do any good. If Bat doesn’t answer a call from me, I don’t see why he’d take one from you.”

“You’re right, of course. But I may be able to cheat. The Puzzle Network employs a special access code. It’s for use by Masters’ level only, and I’m not supposed to know it. But I do. At least we’ll find out how important this is. ’Scuse me.”

Jan had heard enough to be sure that the intruders, whoever they were, had no right to be in Sebastian’s apartment. And they sounded more puzzled than dangerous.

She opened the bedroom door and said, “Who are you, and what are you doing in a private apartment?”

The woman was full-figured and apparently in her early twenties, and she went on talking into a wrist unit. But the man, a few years older, swung sharply around and said, “We’re trying to find Sebastian Birch.”

Jan heard Paul enter the apartment behind her, and it made her feel a good deal more comfortable. She said firmly, “He should be here — where you have absolutely no right to be. What business of yours is it where Sebastian Birch is?”

“I’m Alex Ligon. This is Milly Wu.”

“And where is Sebastian?”

“We have no idea — this place was empty when we arrived. But we wanted—”

He was interrupted. The woman, Milly Wu, was holding up her hand. Jan heard a man’s voice, thi

“He was under lock and key,” Jan said. “He just completed a delicate medical procedure, and it could have side effects. Are you sure he wasn’t here when you arrived?”

“Quite positive. How did you know that we were in this apartment?”

Jan jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. “Monitors. No picture when the room is dark, but audio is always active. I heard voices. How did you get into the facility?”

The man evaded the question. He said, “We were sent here to find Sebastian Birch, because someone thought that he might be dangerous, to himself and maybe to others.”

He had hit one of Jan’s hot buttons. She exploded. “Dangerous? Sebastian would never harm anyone else — but he might easily hurt himself. My name is Janeed Ja

Jan looked straight up at the ceiling and did what she should have done before leaving her own bedroom — except that she had been sure that Sebastian was here. She said firmly, “Surveillance on, and thirty-second reporting. I need tracer output. Where is Sebastian Birch?”

In the few moments of silence that followed she added, more to Paul than to the newcomers, “Ever since the sluicing operation began he’s had a trace generator on him, with round-the-clock automated surveillance. We should be able to track him anywhere he goes.”

“Sebastian Birch is in Section eighty-two,” a voice said from midair. “He is at Level Zero.”

“That can’t be right.” Jan lost any residue of calm. “Level zero is the surface. It’s vacuum. If he’s there, he’s dead.”

“Or he’s in a suit. But he wouldn’t know where the suits are.” Paul turned on Alex, who felt as though he was in a vacuum himself. “Did you two come in that way, from the surface?”

“No.”

Jan had a terrible feeling in -the pit of her stomach. She said, “Sebastian does know where the suits are. He knows because I told him, after I’d been up to the surface and visited you on the Achilles. Some things he remembers perfectly. I bet he’s up there now, staring at Jovian cloud patterns.”

Paul nodded. “You’re probably right, but we must go up and bring him back. The surface can be dangerous to a novice. We’ll find him easily if the generator is a body implant. The tracer will tell us exactly where he is.”

He was trying to reassure Jan, but it produced an unexpected reaction. The voice from the wrist unit, now amplified enough in volume to be understood, asked, “Is there any possibility that Sebastian Birch might obtain access to a working ship?”