tz.theicarushunt-第27部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


rom　its　preset　position　all　the　way　to　zero；　then　returned　the　chip　to　its　socket。
　Experimentally；　I　touched　the　release　pad。　Not　only　did　the　door　open　barely　ten　centimeters　before　slamming　shut　again；　it　did　so　with　a　startlingly　loud　clunk　as　the　buffer　mechanism　that　normally　provided　for　a　smoother　closing　failed　to　engage。　For　a　moment　I　flashed　back　to　the　metal…on…metal　sound　I'd　heard　at　least　twice　now　aboard　the　Icarus；　wondering　if　there　could　simply　be　a　bad　buffer　in　one　of　the　doors。　But　even　allowing　for　the　sound　to　be　filtered　by　distance；　I　knew　this　wasn't　it。
　I　put　the　cover　back　on　the　pad　and　went　down　the　corridor　to　my　own　cabin。　It　was　far　from　a　perfect　solution…anyone　bent　on　unscrupulous　deeds；　after　all；　could　presumably　open　the　release　pad　himself　and　ungimmick　it　as　easily　as　I　had；　assuming　he　knew　about　the　adjustment　dial；　which　most　people　didn't。　But　for　the　moment　it　was　the　best　I　could　do。　At　least　this　way　any　attempt　to　get　to　Ixil　would　generate　a　noise　and　vibration　that　I　ought　to　be　able　to　hear　from　my　own　cabin。　Ixil　himself；　of　course；　with　a　pletely　separate　touch…pad　mechanism　on　his　side　of　the　door；　could　e　out　anytime　he　wanted。　I　reached　my　cabin；　dithered　momentarily　about　whether　I　should　gimmick　my　own　door　as　I　had　Ixil's；　decided　against　it；　and　went　in。
　The　room　was　still　as　small　and　as　unadorned　as　it　had　always　been；　but　as　I　put　my　back　against　the　door　I　found　myself　looking　at　it　with　new　eyes。　Somehow；　someone　had　overheard　our　last　conversation　in　here；　and　had　overheard　it　clearly　enough　to　nip　up　to　the　mechanics　room　and　sabotage　the　cutting　torch。
　The　question　was　how。
　The　wall　separating　the　cabin　from　the　corridor　was　solid　metal；　a　good　five　centimeters　thick。　The　bulkheads　were　even　thicker；　probably　nine　or　ten　centimeters；　and　on　the　side　away　from　the　corridor　was　the　Icarus's　inner　hull；　with　no　more　than　another　twenty　centimeters　between　it　and　the　outer　hull。　Outside　the　outer　hull；　of　course；　was　the　vacuum　of　space。　There　were；　I　knew；　ways　to　hear　through　solid　metal　walls；　but　all　of　them　involved　fairly　sophisticated　equipment　and　even　then　success　was　not　at　all　guaranteed　aboard　a　starship　where　the　whole　frame　was　continually　vibrating　with　everything　from　engine　drone　to　voices　and　footsteps　two　decks　away。　The　bunks　were　too　simple　and　flimsy　to　conceal　a　hidden　transmitter　strong　enough　to　punch　a　radio　signal　through　that　much　metal；　ditto　for　the　lockers。　After　that　tracker　incident　on　Meima；　I'd　made　it　a　point　to　regularly　signal…scan　both　myself　and　Ixil　for　such　unwanted　hitchhikers；　and　had　just　as　regularly　found　nothing。　And　finally；　there　was　nothing　on　any　of　the　walls　that　could　camouflage　any　such　listening　device。
　Except　the　inter。
　I　unfastened　the　cover　of　the　inter　with　my　multitool；　swearing　silently　at　myself　the　whole　time。　It　was　the　oldest　trick　in　the　book：　Sometime　when　I　was　out；　probably　during　our　stop　on　Dorscind's　World；　someone　had　slipped　in　here　and　rearranged　a　few　wires　so　that　the　inter　was　continually　on；　at　least　as　far　as　one　other　specific　inter　was　concerned。　Someone　who'd　known　what　he　was　doing　could　have　done　it　in　three　minutes。　Still　swearing；　still　feeling　like　a　fool；　I　pulled　the　cover　off　the　inter　and　peered　inside。
　It　was　an　inter；　all　right。　A　simple；　standard；　bottom…of…the…line　ship's　inter。　The　kind　you　could　buy　for　five　marks　in　any　outfitter's　shop　anywhere　across　the　Spiral。
　And　it　hadn't　been　tampered　with。
　I　stared　at　it　for　a　good　three　minutes　of　my　own；　prodding　wires　aside　with　my　screwdriver　as　I　visually　traced　every　one　of　them　from　start　to　finish　at　least　five　times。　Nothing。　No　gimmicking；　no　crossed　wires；　no　questionable　ponents；　nothing　that　shouldn't　be　there。　Nothing　even　left　the　box　except　two　power　wires　and　a　slender　coax　cable…exactly　the　right　number…which　disappeared　through　a　tiny　hole　in　the　inner　hull　to　join　the　rest　of　the　maze　of　wiring　and　plumbing　laid　out　in　the　narrow　gap　between　inner　and　outer　hulls。
　Slowly；　I　replaced　the　inter　cover；　now　thoroughly　confused。　Had　we　been　wrong　about　an　eavesdropper？　Had　the　accident　with　the　cutting　torch　been　just　that？　Or　if　not　an　accident；　then　sabotage　simply　on　general　principles　by　someone　who　didn't　want　the　Icarus's　cargo　examined；　and　not　a　reaction　to　our　conversation　at　all？
　I　didn't　believe　it　for　a　minute。　I'd　had　only　a　brief　look　at　the　torch　head　that　had　done　its　best　to　take　off　the　top　of　Ixil's　skull；　but　that　one　look　had　been　enough。　The　screw　connector　holding　the　head　onto　the　connected　hoses　had　had　its　threads　badly　crimped；　probably　with　pression　pliers；　so　that　when　the　pressure　built　up　enough　it　had　e　loose　in　that　explosive　fashion。　As　sabotage　methods　went　it　had　been　effective　enough；　but　it　had　also　been　fairly　clumsy　and；　more　to　the　point；　extremely　quick　and　simple。　Not　the　sort　of　job　one　would　expect　even　an　amateur　to　pull；　at　least　not　an　amateur　with　the　time　to　do　the　job　more　subtly。
　Which　implied　our　saboteur　had　been　rushed　in　his　task。　Which　meant　it　had；　in　fact；　been　a　response　to　our　conversation。
　Which　meant　I　was　back　to　square　one。　How　had　he　overheard　us？
　I　spent　the　next　fifteen　minutes　going　over　the　lockers　and　bunks；　and　found　exactly　what　I'd　expected；　namely；　nothing。　Then；　stretching　out　on　my　bunk；　I　stared　at　the　bottom　of　the　bunk　above　me　and　tried　to　think。
　When　you　have　eliminated　the　impossible；　Sherlock　Holmes　was　fond　of　saying；　whatever　remains；　however　improbable；　must　be　the　truth。　It　wasn't　an　aphorism　I　particularly　subscribed　to；　mainly　because　in　real　life　eliminating　all　the　various　impossibles　was　usually　a　lot　trickier　than　in　Holmes's　fictional　setting。　However；　in　this　particular　case；　the　list　of　directions　the　answer　could　be　hiding　in　was　definitely　and　distressingly　short。　In　fact；　as　I　turned　the　problem　over　in　my　mind；　I　found　there　was　exactly　one　of　Sherlock's　improbables　left。
　Ixil　had　mentioned　earlier　that　he'd　looked　over　the　full　schematics　for　the　Icarus。　It　was　a　fair　assumption　that　he'd　gone　ahead　and　kept　a　copy；　so　I　went　back　to　his　cabin；　ungimmicked　the　door；　and　went　inside。　The　room　looked　exactly　the　way　I'd　left　it　except　that　Pix　and　Pax　were　now　up　on　the　middle　bunk　with　Ixil；　nosing　around　the　hip　pouch　where　he　habitually　kept　some　of　the　little　treats　they　especially　liked。　I　put　them　back　on　their　bunk　where　they　wouldn't　get　rolled　over　on　if　Ixil　shifted　in　his　sleep；　raided　the　pouch　and　gave　them　two　of　the　treats　each；　then　checked　his　locker。　The　schematics　were　there；　a　sheaf　of　papers　rolled　tightly　together。　I　tucked　the　roll　under　my　arm；　regimmicked　the　door　on　my　way　out；　and　returned　to　my　cabin。
　I　looked　first　at　the　main　overview；　noting　in　particular　the　diameter　of　the　main　sphere　that　made　up　the　forward　section　of　the　ship。　The　number　listed　was　forty…one…point…three…six　meters…a　strangely　uneven　number；　I　thought；　but　one　I　trusted　implicitly。　Ship　dimensions　were　critically　important　when　landing…pit　assignments　were　being　doled　out；　and　no　one　ever　got　them　wrong。　Not　more　than　once；　anyway。
　Two　sheets　down　was　the　one　I　was　most　interested　in：　the　schematic　for　the　mid　deck。　Digging　a　pen　out　of　my　inside　jacket　pocket；　I　turned　the　first　sheet　over　for　some　clean　space　and　started　jotting　down　numbers。
　Even　given　the　inherent　problem　of　fitting　mainly　rectangular　spaces　into　a　giant　sphere；　the　Icarus's　various　rooms　were　quite　oddly　shaped；　and　the　semirandom　placement　of　storage　lockers；　equipment　modules；　and　pump　and　air…quality　substations　only　added　to　the　layout　mess。　But　I　was　in　no　mood　to　be　balked　by　a　set　of　numbers；　even　messy　ones；　and　I　set　to　work。
　And　in　the　end；　they　all　matched。
　It　was　not　the　answer　I'd　been　expecting；　and　for　several　minutes　after　rechecking　my　math　I　sat　in　silence　scowling　at　the　schematics。　I'd　been　so　sure　that　Sherlock　and　I　had　finally　been　on　the　brink　of　figuring　this　one　out。　But　the　numbers　added　up　perfectly；　and　numbers　don't　lie。
　Or　do　they？
　One　page　farther　down　was　the　lower…deck　schematic；　the　deck　I　was　currently　on。　A　few　more　minutes'　work　confirmed　that　these　numbers；　too；　matched　just　fine。
　But　that　was　just　the　theoretical　part　of　this　project。　Now　it　was　time　to　move　on　to　the　experimental　work。
　A　laser　measure　would　have　been　the　most　convenient；　but　after　what　had　happened　to　Ixil　I　was　a　bit　leery　about　scrounging　tools　out　of　the　Icarus's　mechanics　room。　Fortunately；　I　didn't　have　to。　I'd　seen　the　printer　up　in　Tera's　puter　room；　and　I　knew　the　size　paper　it　used。　Laying　the　schematics　out　on　the　floor；　I　set　about　using　them　to　measure　my　cabin。　It　took　just　over　two　minutes；　and　when　I　was　done　I　took　a　couple　of　the　sheets　out　into　the　corridor　and　measured　that；　too。
　And　when　I　was　finished；　the　numbers　had　stopped　matching。
　Each　of　the　inner…hull　plates　was　about　a　meter　square　and　held　in　place　by　sixteen　connectors。　The　average　spacer's　multitool　isn't　really　the　proper　gadget　to　use　for　removing　hull　plates；　but　mine　was　a　somewhat　better　model　than　the　average　and　had　a　couple　of　additional　blades　those　missed　out　on。　By　the　time　I　was　down　to　the　final　four…the　ones　in　the　corners…I　was　getting　pretty　adept　at　the　procedure。　I　paused　long　enough　at　that　point　to　dig　out　my　flashlight　and　set　it　on　the　deck　where　it　would　be　handy；　after　a　moment's　thought　I　drew　my　plasmic　and　put　it　down　beside　the　light。　Then　I　removed　the　last　four　connectors　and　eased　the　plate　out　of　place。
　And　there；　dimly　seen　by　the　reflected　overhead　light　from　my　cabin；　was　the　gray　metal　of　the　outer　hull。　Not　twenty　centimeters　beyond　the　inner　hull　like　it　was　supposed　to　be；　but　a　solid　meter　and　a　half　away。
　Plasmic　in　one　hand　and　flashlight　in　the　other；　I　leaned　my　head　cautiously　into　the　opening　and　looked　around。　The　pipes　and　cables　and　conduits　that　normally　ran　through　the　'tweenhull　area　were　all　in　evidence；　fastened　securely　to　the　inner　hull　just　the　way　they　were　supposed　to　be。　The　rest　of　the　space　was　pletely　empty　except　for　the　series　of　struts　that　fastened　the　two　hulls　together。　Struts；　I　decided；　that　would　provide　a