Laura Resnick - Heaven's Only Daughter.pdf - Laura Resnick - margozap

======================

Heaven's Only Daughter

by Laura Resnick

======================

First published in Whatdunits, October 1992

Fictionwise

www.Fictionwise.com

Science Fiction

---------------------------------

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original

purchaser. Duplication or distribution of this work by email, floppy disk,

network, paper print out, or any other method is a violation of international

---------------------------------

It was a strange case right from the start. Mrs. Polona Heaven said

that her daughter, one Kara Heaven, had been kidnapped by aliens. She hired us

to get the girl back with the stipulation that there was to be no scandal or

political embarrassment involved in the girl's retrieval. That was how she put

it: retrieval. That should have tipped me off, but I was still relatively new

to the business. The technical stuff, like tracing missing persons, verifying

identities, tailing suspects -- you can learn all of that pretty quickly. But

reading people? No, that takes years of experience.

You may wonder what a nice girl like me is doing in this sordid

business. Actually, ever since the first Interstellar Arms Reduction Treaty

was signed, a lot of perfectly respectable people (i.e., ex-military types who

sincerely believed they were honor-bound to destroy two whole planets in the

Incubus system before we learned that those poisonous molds were actually

sentient beings) have gone into private investigations. What's more, business

is booming in the private sector. Let's face it, with the galaxy opening up

and bureaucracy spearheading humankind's expansion into the Milky Way, there's

not much point in expecting the government, the police, or the civil service

to get anything done on behalf of the ordinary citizen. Sure, when the

Governor of the United African States awoke one day to find her ceremonial

tiara had been stolen, it was a big deal, and three interplanetary law

enforcement networks searched half the solar system for the culprit (in

addition to priceless gems, the tiara apparently had certain religious

significance, and witch doctors far and wide were gleefully warning that the

African union would crumble if the tiara were not successfully retrieved and

the thief suitably punished). But if an ordinary person's tiara -- or daughter

-- disappears these days, your only hope is to hire a team of private

investigators.

I actually used to be a reproductive counselor (or, more accurately, I

used to advise people how to fornicate _without_ reproducing). But after that

memorable altercation our men and women in uniform had with the fierce and

bloodthirsty inhabitants of Polonius IV (all of whom are now safely dead or in

"cheerfully decorated rehabilitation camps"), a lot of government funding was

diverted to the military to pay for those weapons that we now have to

liquidate, under the terms of the most recent Interstellar Arms Reduction

Treaty.

So I found myself out of work just about the time my best friend's

partner disappeared -- after having embezzled three million credits from the

business they owned jointly. I held her hand all through her dealings with the

Page 1

firm of detectives she hired to find the bastard. By the time they'd been on

retainer for four months, I decided that after five years of being overworked

and underpaid, _I'd_ sure like to make that much money for supplying so few

results. So I went back to school for another year, then got an entry-level

job with Harker and Fontina Investigations.

Like some others in this business, I've read a few private eye books by

some of the classic authors, many of whom have been dead for centuries --

Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler among them. A lot of the references are

pretty baffling, even after you read the footnotes, but there's an archaic

romanticism there that appeals to me. That, of course, is part of my problem.

Even after two years at the agency, two years of catching adulterers in

the act, dealing with perverts and sex offenders, tracing teenagers who

probably had a damned good reason for running away in the first place, and

retrieving stolen property that no sensible person would want back, I still

had this crazy idea that I was in a moral profession. I believed that I was

one of the good guys and that I was supposed to do what was right. How I

managed to keep believing this, even as I photographed copulating couples

without their knowledge (on adultery cases, I mean), is a question that could

probably occupy a therapist for several years. Maybe some of that stuff I

read, in which heroes and heroines were always doing the hard thing for the

right reason, got to me.

Anyhow, I was pleasantly surprised (which shows how naive I was) when

Harker and Fontina assigned me to the Heaven case. Though I had worked on over

a dozen interplanetary cases, this was my first interstellar case. It was also

my first case involving non-humans (which goes to follow, since the

Interstellar Migration Act prohibits alien races who act like _us_ from coming

here, which means we have virtually no alien crime in this system). It was

potentially the most politically sensitive case I'd ever been assigned to, and

I was very excited about having a chance to prove my mettle (we're talking

_naive_). I thought the fact that I was assigned alone to the case, with no

supervision other than the usual progress reports, was a measure of the firm's

confidence in me (yes, I know, you needn't say it).

Mrs. Heaven's personality made it immediately apparent to me why aliens

had kidnapped her daughter instead of _her_. Though quite beautiful, she was

as cold as ice, with a hard, ruthless edge and an imperious manner that made

me long to do something undignified to her. If she had any motherly feelings

toward her abducted daughter, she kept them well-hidden. I was given orders to

bring the girl home with all due haste, primarily, it seemed, because Mrs.

Heaven found the entire situation tediously inconvenient and socially

embarrassing.

I had dealt with kidnapping on a couple of earlier cases. I have to

admit that, despite my bewilderment at Mrs. Heaven's apparent immunity to the

emotional trauma of her daughter's kidnapping, I was somewhat relieved. A

great deal of time is lost in consoling the family, delicate questions are

difficult to ask of sobbing parents, and honest answers and estimates are

almost impossible to give in the face of a terrified mother's desperate hopes.

"Now, then, Mrs. Heaven, when did your daughter disappear?"

She checked her calendar, a luminous little holographic dial which hung

from her neck on a chain made of crystallized quicksilver. "I noticed she was

gone yesterday, around 1300 hours. I returned from my luncheon with Irina

Halstead-Mao to find my daughter's chambers empty. I became worried when she

didn't return toward evening, since she knew we were scheduled to attend the

inaugural ball of the Interplanetary Governor."

Fearing she might mention more VIPs if given the opportunity, I tried

to get Mrs. Heaven to pinpoint the exact hour her daughter was last seen. It

proved to be a futile exercise. Although Mrs. Heaven had noticed Kara was

missing yesterday, she hadn't actually seen her for over two weeks.

"What about Mr. Heaven?" I asked.

"I saw him this morning."

"No, I mean has _he_ seen her?"

Page 2

"Of course not. Why would he see her?"

Well, damned if I could think of a reason. We moved on. "Does Kara have

any close friends who might have seen her during the past two weeks?"

"She has a fiance, _obviously_." The glacial look in Mrs. Heaven's eyes

made it clear what she thought of private investigators who didn't keep

abreast of society news. "The wedding is scheduled for the fifteenth of next

month, and Kara must be back in time for the standard social functions."

"I see. What's the name of her prospective husband, ma'am?" She

appeared reluctant to answer, as if finding it distasteful to involve him in

this messy business, so I prodded, "It's important that I talk to him, Mrs.

Heaven. He probably knows something about her activities and can perhaps help

me pinpoint the actual date of her disappearance." She relented, and we

proceeded to the next, and most important, question. "What makes you think she

was kidnapped by aliens, ma'am?"

"Who else would do such a thing?" she said frostily.

I decided to return to that subject later.

"Does Kara have a job?" I asked, looking for some link to the real

world. An incredulous stare was the only response. Silly question, I suppose.

The Heavens were one of the five hundred richest families in the Western

hemisphere. No, they weren't ordinary people, and they probably could have

gotten powerful government agencies interested in locating their daughter.

However, as I've mentioned, Mrs. Heaven wanted no breath of scandal, a

requirement that clearly ruled out government involvement.

"Has there been a ransom demand?" I asked, continuing the interview

with true grit.

"No, of course not. Aliens don't understand the value of money," she

said contemptuously.

Actually, that's not quite true. The Interstellar Migration Act was

passed almost a century ago because a small band of Shirulians waylaid a ship

carrying the semi-annual payroll of three major interplanetary corporations.

They boarded her somewhere between Saturn and Jupiter and made off with the

greatest sum of money any group of thieves had ever even attempted to steal.

So I figured that at least _some_ aliens knew the value of a credit, even if

it was only those races no longer permitted to enter our solar space. However,

Mrs. Heaven was clearly not in the mood for a history lesson.

"It's extremely important that you let us know if you receive a ransom

demand," I explained to her. "That will make my job a lot easier. Otherwise,

it will be difficult to trace -- "

"I am not interested in making your job a lot easier, Ms. Hoxley," Mrs.

Heaven said archly.

She was a real piece of work. The rest of the interview wasn't any more

productive than what I've already described. Just before she left my office,

she turned and met my eyes with almost frightening intensity. "You must get

her back," she said, her voice implying a wealth of unspoken threats if I

should fail. "She's my only daughter."

I was not moved to tears.

Kara's fiance was a little more helpful, though not intentionally so.

His name was Quayle Morrison, as in the Morrison Bank of Mars, the Morrison

Complex on Ganymede, and the Morrison Mining Company operating on the moons of

Saturn. He had yet to inherit all of this vast wealth, but he was flexing his

fingers preparatory to seizing the reins of power.

"Kidnapped?" Quayle gasped at the beginning of the interview, clearly

appalled. "Did Polona Heaven mention which race of aliens she suspects?"

"No, sir. She told me I had no business asking such an impertinent

question." No wonder Harker and Fontina had given me the case, I thought

irritably. They'd seen her coming. "I'm obliged to investigate this

possibility fully, sir, but I must admit that Kara's being kidnapped by aliens

seems unlikely to me."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Ever since the Interstellar Migration Act was passed, there's been no

Page 3

record of any misdemeanors by aliens, let alone crimes like assault,

kidnapping, or extortion." I shrugged. "There's no precedent for this. Don't

you think it's possible Kara could have been kidnapped by humans?"

"Nonsense!" he bellowed. "Let's have none of this liberal rubbish, Ms.

Hoxley. If Polona Heaven says aliens kidnapped Kara, her word is good enough

for me."

I decided that the ultra-wealthy were very strange. "Well, then, sir,

do _you_ suspect a particular race?"

"I'll bet you half the uranium on Pluto that it was a Dramborian, Ms.

Hoxley."

Since he probably _owned_ half the uranium on Pluto, I asked with

interest, "Why do you say that, sir?"

"She's been hanging around with them, hasn't she?"

"Has she, sir?"

"Of course! Mind you, charitable tendencies are to be applauded, but

not when it gets out of hand."

"The Dramborians. They're the ones immolating themselves on their home

planet to protest the, um, benevolent rule of the Second Aligned Interstellar

Council, aren't they, sir?"

"Bloody nuisance," Quayle muttered. "They're making the cost of fuel

skyrocket."

"So Kara was involved in lobbying for them here?" I guessed. Quayle

wouldn't have been so annoyed if she was simply giving them old clothes and

freeze-dried food that people like the Heavens didn't want anyhow.

"Damned right, she was. I told her that a little charity was all very

well and good, but to engage in any political activity on behalf of these

creatures was out of the question."

"But she didn't listen to you?"

"Women!"

Taking that for a confirmation, I said, "But if she was helping them,

why would they have kidnapped her?"

"They're _aliens_, Ms. Hoxley. Who _knows_ why they do what they do?

You can't expect logic from creatures like that."

"But the Dramborians are a peaceful race. That's why they're allowed to

enter this system. Their protests are largely verbal, and the only violence

they've displayed has been self-inflicted. Why would they suddenly kidnap a

human woman?" I wondered aloud.

"Have you forgotten that Kara Heaven comes from an extremely wealthy

family? It seems to me, Ms. Hoxley, that the Dramborians will benefit more

from bartering for her release than they ever benefited from her rather

incompetent activism on their behalf."

And that, I supposed, was a possibility well worth investigating. The

following day, I visited the Dramborian Cultural Exchange Center, the planet

Drambor's primary office in this solar system.

I had only seen a few Dramborians until then, since there weren't many

of them on Earth. Though oxygen-based, their atmosphere is somewhat different

from ours, so they tended to get rather ill if they stayed for long. The few

Dramborians who were here on a long-term basis appeared to spend most of their

leisure time inside atmosphere-controlled chambers at the Cultural Exchange

Center.

I'm ashamed to admit that, despite my admiration for their ancient

culture and their commitment to pacifism, I had always found them quite

repulsive. They're rather fish-like, even though they're two-legged,

land-dwelling, male and female beings. Ironically, despite the fishy smell

that clings to them, they can't swim at all, and some rotten kids caused a

nasty interstellar incident a decade ago when they threw three Dramborians

into the water off the Florida coast. Not only did all three Dramborians

drown, but their bodies were almost unrecognizable when they were shipped back

to Drambor; apparently some chemical in their scaly skin can't survive contact

with Earth's salt water, and the bodies were hideously deformed as a result.

Page 4

The Dramborians at the Cultural Exchange Center were distant, due to

their planetary protest against our influence, but unfailingly courteous. In

fact, they were the first polite people I'd encountered on this case. However,

explaining the concept of kidnapping to Dramborians -- i.e. taking someone

away from one place and confining them in another place, all of this against

their will -- was one of the most exhausting, frustrating things I've ever

done. After all, they had only been permitted to enter our solar system

because they were so totally devoid of criminal tendencies, so how could they

understand such a thing?

I finally gave up and simply requested a list of all Dramborians who'd

had contact with Kara Heaven. Four of the aliens on the list had already gone

back to Drambor. It took me two days to interview all the others, after which

I requested a permit to travel to Drambor. There was no record of Kara on any

scheduled transport to Drambor, and aliens are not permitted to charter

private vessels. However, Mrs. Heaven was pressuring my bosses, and they were

pressuring me, so it didn't seem politic to remain on Earth any longer.

If a Dramborian did indeed have Kara, he had not only learned about

kidnapping on Earth, but also such useful skills as forging travel documents,

counterfeiting interstellar visas, and evading random computer scans. It

seemed so unlikely, I began to fear I was diving into a black hole.

Interstellar travel is not something a person should undertake lightly.

The hyperspace jump made my ears bleed, and I never did get the stains out of

my favorite tunic. And if you think flying halfway around the world upsets

your body clock, try traveling five light years from home.

The air on Drambor, should you ever have the opportunity to visit

there, is not one of its primary attractions for humans. It's filled with a

sort of sticky soot which stinks of putrescent primeval things. The

Dramborians were polite, but not very friendly. After all, the average

Dramborian was accustomed to seeing at least one self-immolation a day in

protest against human efforts to control Drambor, so they weren't especially

thrilled to find another off-worlder in their midst. The only liquid available

on Drambor is a murky, oily drink served with things floating in it that are

rather like small slugs, and the food ... Well, I really pitied Kara Heaven if

she were stuck on this planet, and I had every intention of helping her get

back to fresh air, decent food, and cold cocktails.

I enlisted the aid of the Dramborian religious order -- the closest

thing they have to a government of their own -- thanks to the support of the

Supervisor of the Dramborian Cultural Exchange Center back on Earth. Things

operate a little differently there, so it took more time than I would have

liked to track down the four Dramborians I sought. In other words, I was

starving to death and desperate for a decent drink by the time I finally found

the fourth and final Dramborian who, according to official records, had had

contact with Mrs. Heaven's only daughter. I wanted to interview him quickly

and then get off that damned planet. So imagine my surprise when I told him I

was looking for Kara Heaven and he said he'd be happy to take me to her.

"You know where she is?" I asked.

"Of course. She is in my home." Since Dramborians don't lie, I believed

him.

"What's she doing there?"

"She exists there."

It was one of those situations that called for more experience than I

possessed. Was he going to kidnap me, too? Kill me? Had Kara been brainwashed?

If only I hadn't been forced to turn over my weapon to the transit authorities

upon leaving for Drambor. I felt naked, helpless, uncertain.

On the other hand, nothing terrified me as much as the prospect of

going home and telling Mrs. Heaven that I'd found out where Kara was but

hadn't gone to see her.

"All right," I said after a brief internal struggle. "Take me to her."

It was not a long trip from the Dramborian's ritual bath house to his

home, which wasn't half bad compared to the Alien Guesthouse in which I'd been

Page 5

Laura Resnick - Heaven's Only Daughter.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: