The main server room held a vast supercooled computer bank. The engineers accessed it via a holographic user interface. They weren’t allowed to actually touch the machine, only to access it via holographic UI; that way IAN could intercept any attempts at sabotage.
Behind a glass wall sat the actual computers, but the user interface expanded around them in the antechamber, a visual representation of the computers within. It was very confusing to most non-engineers, but Paul felt at home there. Except that many of the servers blinked bright red, indicating they needed immediate attention. That was not a good home.
He jumped when the intercom popped to life.
“Status?” Wolfgang said.
“I have the UI up, which means we don’t have to break into the server room. That’s excellent news,” he said.
Wolfgang didn’t reply. Perhaps he didn’t see this as excellent news.
“Now that I can access the computers, I will see if I can fix IAN.”
“Do you know what’s exactly wrong with him yet?” he asked.
“No, not beyond ‘he’s broken.’”
Wolfgang swore loudly.
“I’m doing my best, sir,” Paul said, trying to keep his voice from quavering.
“Since you woke up, you’ve been acting like you just found out cloning has been discovered and can’t handle it. We have some serious problems to deal with here, and you want to get praised for failure. We hired you to do a job, Seurat, now do it!”
Paul got back to work on the UI. Yelling at him wouldn’t accomplish anything. “This is a delicate matter,” he said, not looking at the intercom.
“Paul, would some time in the cell help you acclimate? Is that what you need?” Wolfgang asked.
“If you throw me into the brig, who will fix IAN for you?” he asked, finally feeling anger replace the fear that had lived in his core since he woke up. He redoubled his efforts, reaching toward a red area and spreading his hand to enlarge it, the better to see the problems.
The ship was built with two cells, anticipating no more than two troublemakers out of a crew of six that needed to be dealt with at any time. They were identical, built much like a prison cell with a basic terminal set into each wall that allowed the command staff to send information into the cell, but the prisoners themselves couldn’t use it.
“Do you need Maria to help you?” Wolfgang asked, his voice more reasonable now.
“This is not her area of expertise,” Paul said. “She’s better suited for maintenance and cleanup.”
He wrinkled his nose and added, “And she’s going to have a disgusting job cleaning out the cloning bay.”
Wolfgang helped Joanna lay out the bodies in the medbay. He set up five cots and then carried in each body, lining them up a respectful distance away from the one crew member who was still alive.
Wolfgang was strong even for a Luna-born man, and the reduced gravity made it simple to lift all but the heaviest of things on this level of this ship. He brought in the bodies and she took samples of the blood and other fluids, cut their jumpsuits off, placed the clothes in the incinerator, and then rinsed the bodies in the medbay tub. They had a good system going.
This would be another room that would be tough to clean. They had not slept since they had woken in their vats, and Joanna was grateful that staying in her chair kept her from falling over in exhaustion. She wondered what was driving Wolfgang’s energy. She wheeled around the cots, recording verbal notes on her handheld recorder.
“Maria Arena, maintenance officer, skin is very pale, lips blue. Tests show the sample of vomit from the cloning bay is hers. She has a large stab wound in the back, which severed the spinal cord. Tox screens indicate evidence of a poisonous plant enzyme, ninety percent sure it is hemlock or a variant. Confirmed with a sample provided from the food printer, which seems to be sabotaged to print only hemlock when other food is requested. Water and raw Lyfe tests show no toxicity.
“It’s possible the other crewmates could have been poisoned, but died by way of violence before the poison did its job. Their tox screens are pending.
“Her body appears to be around sixty-five years old.”
Joanna moved to Hiro, on his cot next to Maria. “Akihiro Sato, navigator and pilot, cause of death, hanging by the neck. Body missing a boot. Clone appears twenty years old.”
She rolled up to her own body. She peered at it with interest, noticing that the muscle tone in her upper body was much more developed than in previous lives. “My own body, Joanna Glass, also shows signs of aging and signs of trauma. This body was also killed with a chef’s knife, a stab wound to the neck. It bled out. It has no defensive wounds, hinting that it either trusted the killer, or was taken by surprise.”
“It stabbed you, of course it was surprise,” Wolfgang objected. Joanna gave him an icy look. “I’m serious. We don’t know who the killer is and you’re giving them the benefit of the doubt already!”
Wolfgang’s body was horribly paler than usual. “Security Chief Wolfgang, also aged several decades, has been stabbed multiple times, with many defensive cuts to his hands and arms. He bled out in the cloning bay; the body is nearly fully exsanguinated.” Here the living Wolfgang frowned. He left the terminal where he was waiting for more tox screens and approached the body to study his own face. Several expressions warred as he studied the body: disgust, fear, and curiosity.
“Clearly I wasn’t taken by surprise,” he said. “Who in the crew is strong enough to take me down?”
“There are many possibilities,” Joanna said. “Probably some we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Doctor, we need to know who is capable of this. I know that you have the confidential histories of the crew. In the interest of security, I need to see them.”
Joanna froze and turned off her recorder. “The logs were wiped. I don’t have the information anymore.”
“You must have read them. Surely you remember something.”
“No. They were only to be opened in a case like this.”
He glared at her. “You agreed to be on a ship with a crew of confirmed criminals, and you didn’t bother to learn what their pasts were before you launched? I find that very hard to believe.”
“Think what you want,” she said. “I don’t know anything more about the crew than you do. Are we done? I need to continue recording.”
The final body was Paul’s. The face was still swollen, eyes bulging. She turned her recorder on and ignored Wolfgang’s sputtering and eventual exit. “Chief Engineer Paul Seurat: this body is also several decades older than we remember, has no lacerations to speak of, but has large bruises on a very swollen face. Skin is slightly bluish. Initial cause of death, asphyxiation, tox screen pending.”
Joanna ran her fingers through his messy dark hair on his forehead. “Seurat has a scar on his forehead. He was injured years ago. A pretty serious blow to the forehead.”
She turned him over and found the usual freckles and moles, and then found one dark spot on his upper thigh. She ran her fingertip over it thoughtfully.
She made no note about the spot.