Hide and Seek

by PSC

Children are dying in the Fleet. Can one Council Security officer make a difference?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I started this story several years ago and have only now returned to it. Be forewarned: the subject matter is not pretty. In fact, it gets rather intense. I think I read too many murder mysteries. Hope you enjoy it.

Hide and Seek

Prologue:

He was out of bed and moving before he even realized he was awake, or why. An alert klaxon blared through the cramped cubicle. He snatched up the combat uniform that he kept within easy reach of the bed, throwing himself into it without thinking. A flight jacket hung on the chair beside his desk; the warrior snagged it on his way past, then hesitated beside his son=s bedroom door.

Should he wake the boy, drop him off at Life Station? He cracked the door, glanced in. Boxey was curled up, oblivious to the klaxon; his pet Adaggit,@ actually a mechanized substitute for the original Caprican animal, raised his head, recognized Apollo, and relaxed once more. Boxey never budged.

Apollo smiled and closed the door. Boxey would be fine; the alerts never lasted long, and even if the child should awake he wouldn=t be afraid, not with Muffit there. Life Station would likely be busy, anyway.

Rough- combing his hair with one hand, the warrior keyed the lock on the outer door of the compartment to lock behind him and sprinted for the launch bay, nearly colliding with another crewman as he rounded the end of the corridor.

Amazing, he thought, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of thousands of other parents before him as he finished his pre- launch sequences and joined his squadron in queue. Little kids can sleep through anything.

*********

Part 1:

Eirian had given up on the idea of going back to sleep. Minta had been frightened into her older sister=s bed by the battle alert. Unlike many of their neighbors, the sisters never bothered with the civilian battle shelters if an alert was sounded while they were at home; their little apartment was so far into the interior of the old freighter that Eirian considered the shelters unnecessary. Were a laser volley or torpedo to reach far enough to cause them harm, it would little matter whether they were crowded into a shelter or warm in their beds; they would die just the same, as would their fellow passengers. So Eirian had cuddled Minta, half- remembered Canceran folk songs had calmed the child, and the klaxon had eventually ceased to wail. By the time Eirian had comforted the girl to sleep she herself was hopelessly awake. Not that she had been sleeping all that well to begin with; lately her work had begun to intrude on her dreams.

Papers were scattered haphazardly across the small table: pictures, before and after; files for all three individual investigations, as well as for the Directorate=s joint investigation; three autopsy reports. It was just as well that she couldn=t sleep tonight. There were parts of her work Eirian would prefer that her little sister never see.

A shrill bleat from the commlink that her superiors had installed on the wall near the door startled her. It shrilled twice more before she could get to it, irritated, worried that the noise would rouse the child.

ABoss?@ Kyril, her aide at the Council Security HQ on the Galactica sounded unusually tense, even for him. ASorry to wake you. Looks like we=ve got another one.@

*******

As her shuttle made the short hop from the Rhapsody to the Galactica, Eirian reviewed the rather sketchy notes she had taken from Kyril=s report. Approximately one centaur from the end of that night=s alert, Council Security Officer Reese had reported a child as missing. The child, a seven yahren old named Boxey, had been alone in his father=s apartment during the alert. The father was a warrior, a pilot. The mother was deceased. The father had returned to the apartment to find his son gone.

AAre they sure the boy didn=t just wake up alone and wander off?@ Maybe the father was just being panicky?

AI asked about that. Seems the lock on the compartment door was worked over with a cutting device of some sort, for one thing. . .@

AAnd for another?@

AWell. . . CSO Reese says that the kid had some sort of mechanical critter, supposed to look like a daggit. It was, shall we say, forcibly deactivated?@

AHow?@ Mechanical daggit? Eirian couldn=t place the reference, but it sounded familiar.

AEnergy weapon, unknown variety. I=ve already dispatched an evidence crew.@

AGood. Right. . ,@ Eirian sighed. ATell them I want their report on my desk first thing tomorrow. And be sure to send out an investigator to oversee the proceedings. . . Some of the CSOs still aren=t very careful about little things like evidence or crime scene security. Nerissa might be a good choice; her brother=s a warrior, and she seems to get on well with--@

AAh, Boss?@ Kyril interrupted his director in midstream, seeming to grow more jumpy by the micron. ANo offense, ma=am, but maybe you ought to handle this one yourself.@

Eirian had stopped in surprise, frowning at the commlink even though Kyril couldn=t see her; the link was purely audio. When she didn=t answer immediately, Kyril went on. AThis kid? He=s Commander Adama=s grandson.@

She had been rather surprised to see the shuttle arrive so quickly, and piloted by a military crew. She had half expected to be forced to wait for the next civilian craft. The running feud between military and Council Security personnel over space, resources, recruits, and especially jurisdiction was well known. The case was clearly within CS jurisdiction, which covered practically any criminal offenses, involving either civilians or military personnel, occurring anywhere in the fleet that were not Aspecifically aimed at undermining the integrity of the fleet,@ to quote the regulations; in other words, while CS was not quite equivalent to an actual military police force, it was close. Still, Eirian expected trouble, considering the parties involved.

Truth be told, this investigation was going to be like juggling with armed solenite packs. Kyril had been right; she couldn=t leave this one to a trainee. So far the Directorate had been able to keep the abductions quiet, giving the task force, if one could call one over- worked Director and two, no, only one now, investigator a Atask force,@ the breathing space it needed; but after the last one, and with the few leads they had running dry, some of her fellow Investigation Directors were beginning to get nervous. They wanted to issue general warnings to parents, put the case on the news reports and hope for new information; in short, start a panic. Now, with Adama=s own grandson missing. . . there was no chance of keeping this one quiet; she=d be lucky if Intra- Fleet Broadcasting didn=t meet her in the landing bay. She hoped Kyril and his CSOs had managed to cordon off the scene before the reporters got there.

ADirector Eirian!@ Colonel Tigh, Adama=s chief aide, hailed Eirian as she stepped out of the shuttle craft.

She nodded in greeting, and shook the man=s hand. Although Eirian had never met the battlestar=s Commander, she had met briefly with Tigh about a yahren before, a courtesy visit she had arranged when she had first been assigned as ID for Section 4 of the newly created investigative branch of Council Security, Beta Division. The meeting had been short and uncomfortable. She had gotten the impression that Tigh was studying her, trying to discern some hidden flaw. He probably had been; warriors couldn=t seem to fathom the idea that an intelligent and able- bodied person might actually choose to join Council Security rather than the Colonial Service.

Actually, that meeting had gone better than some of the others. Out of the ten ships in her section, only seven liaison officers had made time to see her; of those, two had suddenly become unavailable within five centons of her arrival in their offices, and a third, the exec on the Sargon, had been openly belligerent. Tigh=s coolly polite reception had been a welcome relief.

Eirian and Tigh walked in silence for several centons. The corridors were deserted, cleared for her arrival. Eirian glanced at the colonel; he was tense, worry creasing his face, understandable under the circumstances. He was a friend of the missing boy=s family. Briefly, she considered saying something, making some reassuring noises, but rejected the idea immediately. The Galactica=s exec was no fool, and would not appreciate sympathy at this point, especially from her. Better to get on with business.

AI assume Kyril and his team are at the scene. Have they mentioned any problems?@

ANot to me. There was a little trouble clearing the corridor in front of Captain Apollo=s quarters.@

Eirian nodded. More likely there had been quite a lot of trouble; warriors didn=t care to be ordered around by CSOs and the CSOs were not always paragons of tact.

AI haven=t seen any sign of the IFB. I appreciate that. I=d like to keep this particular bag cinched as tightly as possible, at least for the moment.@

AToo late. I=ve no idea who called them -- yet-- but the reporters got here before you did. We=ve got them confined to a conference room on level 5. No guarantees on how long they=ll stay there.@ Tigh paused. AThey=ll be expecting a statement.@

AThey won=t get one. Not from me, anyway.@ Eirian caught Tigh=s eye, and his expression warmed slightly. They wouldn=t be getting one from him, either.

Colonel Tigh was beginning to feel better. After the way the CSOs had been swaggering about, hustling people roughly out of the area around Captain Apollo=s quarters, and in general making far more trouble than was really necessary to secure the area, he had been wondering if Adama shouldn=t simply order Council Security off the investigation and turn it over to his own staff. After all, Boxey was the commander=s grandson, and Tigh wasn=t at all sure Council Security was really up to this task.

Typically drawn from the ranks of people whose physical, mental or educational limitations made them unacceptable for Academy training, the average CSOs had done little to endear themselves to the warriors; on the contrary, they seemed to go out of their way to antagonize military personnel whenever they could. Both he and Adama had expected the CS to be a temporary irritation, quickly discarded when the Council had a chance to reconsider its action. They had been wrong.

Council Security, as luck would have it, was the beloved offspring of Sire Loran, Councilor of Libra. Soon after its inception, with Loran=s enthusiastic support, Council Security had begun to expand; from a simple security force designed to enforce curfews and regulations within the fleet, answerable to the Council, it had grown to include several divisions. With the divisions had come an increasingly well-ensconced hierarchy of authority, solidifying CS=s originally tentative position. By now it had become obvious that Council Security, despite its shortcomings, would survive.

Inevitably there had been difficulties between CS and Service personnel, and Tigh was concerned that these clashes would have a deleterious effect on the present situation. There had already been problems. Apollo had been furious when CSO Reese, after contacting Beta Division at CSHQ, had insisted on taking his statement instead of allowing him to arrange a search party. Tigh could understand the man=s anger; his son was missing, obviously in danger, and Reese had insisted on sticking to procedure. Not that Apollo usually had anything against following proper procedure – Colonial Service procedure-- but he rankled at being forced to submit to the CS protocols rather than being allowed to follow his instincts.

Tigh had further reservations. Granted, recent revisions in Council Security=s regulations had brought some improvements, encouraged a more professional attitude among the CSOs, but the changes had been slow, and an improved appearance and actual competence were two different things. Judging from the CSOs he had met in the past, and a few he had seen in action tonight, Tigh was not at all convinced of their competence.

However, after meeting with Investigator Kyril he had been somewhat heartened. The young man had seemed nervous, but had quickly begun to tame chaos, organizing CSOs and volunteers into search parties, expediting the establishment of the crime scene perimeter, contacting the forensics team which was at the moment dismantling Apollo=s quarters, searching for anything that might help find the child. Even Apollo, who had been close to throttling one particularly inept CS specimen, had calmed considerably, realizing that someone at least was finally in charge of the effort.

Tigh had been especially relieved to learn that Eirian would be the lead investigator. Much to his own surprise, he had been favorably impressed with the woman=s demeanor and intelligence during their one previous encounter. She had not been what he had expected. He had been certain that any director assigned to one of Council Security=s fledgling divisions would be an incompetent or a council toady or both. Tigh had become accustomed to seeing the type, both male and female, within the CS ranks during its first year: arrogant without the substance to justify the attitude, eager to flaunt whatever imagined authority they could. ID Eirian, he had believed, would be another of these, only worse. She would have some real authority.

Reality had been something of a shock. At first Tigh had thought that she was a civilian who had mistakenly strayed into his office. Taking advantage of a new CS regulation that allowed officers of the Directorate level to eschew the usual fitted black uniform so long as their rank insignia were prominently displayed, Eirian had replaced the tunic with a loose white blouse, traditional on Canceria, retaining the simple trousers and boots and using her rank ensign as a clasp at the throat. The effect was far softer than was usual for a CS officer, but somehow managed to seem simpler and more practical. Tigh had found that the same was true of the Director herself during their interview. She had introduced herself calmly, and had indicated a sincere desire to cooperate with the Galactica=s command staff whenever necessary. Her attitude had been cool and professional, and Tigh had found himself thinking that he might actually enjoy working with Council Security for once.

He had not been disappointed. Although they had not met again in the following yahren, they had communicated through reports on various official matters, and Tigh had found Eirian to be efficient and capable on the few occasions when their duties happened to overlap. If Boxey=s disappearance had to be investigated by Council Security rather than military personnel, Tigh could think of no other person he would rather have than Section 4's director, and he had told Adama as much when the commander had asked about her earlier that evening. He hoped he had been right.

Ahead of them, two black- uniformed CSOs stood guard at the end of a corridor, a temporary barrier of plastic ribbon stretched between them. A handful of warriors hung back against the opposite wall, scowling at the guards. A woman muttered something Tigh didn=t quite catch.

AI thought I ordered this hall cleared.@ The warriors straightened, startled by the colonel=s sharp tone.

Most of the loiterers hustled out of the area; only one remained behind, a young woman in the dark blue uniform of a bridge officer, nervously standing her ground.

AIs there a problem, Ensign?@ Tigh=s voice suggested that it would be in the Ensign=s best interest if there were none.

AWell, sir, ah. . . My quarters are in that corridor. I need some things. . .,@ her voice trailed off as the colonel glared at her. AThey won=t let me in,@ she finished meekly.

Tigh drew a breath; the ensign=s timing was atrocious.

ID Eirian cleared her throat softly to catch his attention. AColonel, if I may. . .?@ At his nod, she addressed the young officer, AWhich apartment is yours?@

AIt=s just there. Two doors down, on the right.@

Eirian looked where she pointed; the activity in the hall was centered three compartments further and across the hall. She nodded and turned to the CSO immediately to her left. AOfficer, escort Ensign. . .,@ she shot Tigh a questioning look.

AMelitta,@ he said tightly.

AEscort Ensign Melitta to her quarters, and wait for her there. Let her get what she needs and escort her back out.@ She turned back to the ensign. AOne overnight case, five centons, agreed?@

Melitta=s head bobbed gratefully and she started down the hall. The sentry frowned at Eirian, looking as if he might like to demand to see identification. His partner drew his attention with a warning gesture; the second sentry briefly touched his throat, nodding towards Eirian. Recognizing the director=s ensign, the man turned to follow the younger woman. Eirian caught his arm, pulling him slightly away from Tigh, and lowered her voice.

AIf you get a chance, I would be interested to know exactly what she=s so concerned about.@ Eirian gave him a hard look. ABe discrete.@

The CSO nodded and hurried after Melitta.

Turning to the second sentry, Eirian asked for the CSO responsible for perimeter security.

ACSO Reese, ma=am. He=s over there, the one on the left.@ The guard indicated a tall but heavy-set young man whispering earnestly with two other CSOs.

Tigh=s attention was distracted by a soft buzzing from his summoner.

AIf you will excuse me, Director, I am needed elsewhere. Commander Adama has instructed me to provide any assistance your team may require.

AAlso, the commander would like to speak to you as soon as is feasible.@

AOf course. I had planned to make arrangements for an interview at any rate.@ Even if she had not planned to see Adama, such a request could not be refused. AI=ll need some further background on the child=s family, his father=s friends and associates.@

Tigh looked suddenly wary, as if he wanted to say something but had thought better of it. He bade Eirian farewell and strode away quickly.

ACSO Reese.@

Reese looked up sharply.

AID Eirian, hello. I was just speaking to the officers in charge of our two search teams. Nothing yet, I=m afraid.

AWe=re keeping the two groups separate, just like Investigator Kyril said. We=ve got the volunteers canvassing the residential sections of the ship, and a group of CSOs is down in Engineering tapping bulkheads.@ Reese grimaced slightly as he delivered this last piece of information.

Eirian turned to the team leaders.

AThe Engineering team knows to be discreet, correct?@

One of the CSOs, a short, barrel-chested man of early middle age, nodded.

AYes, ma=am. A couple of guys asked what we were looking for when I was down there helping divide up the search area, and I told them we were looking for a bootleg still.@ He grinned. AYou shoulda seen em scurry.@

AI=ll bet.@ Eirian grinned back. ATell you what. Why don=t you recall that group, tell them to lie low for a while; we still aren=t sure when our boy dumps these kids, and if this is the same guy, I don=t want to spook him into changing his methods. I=ll get clearance to set up a surveillance of the area. Maybe we can grab him that way.@

All of the last three missing children had been found in the Engineering sections of the ships from which they had disappeared, their bodies stuffed behind seldom- used maintenance hatches. It had been two full sectars after the first child=s disappearance before an odd smell led an engineering tech to a crawlspace on the Hyperion. When the second child=s body was discovered in a similar way one and one- half sectars after her abduction aboard the Rising Star, Eirian had become suspicious and had ordered a routine search of the Engineering sections of any ship in her jurisdiction in cases involving missing children. Her hunch had paid off, in a macabre way; seven- yahren- old Sarita=s body had been discovered within thirty- six centars of her disappearance from her parents= compartment aboard the Siress Orla.

Because of the locations of the children=s bodies, one of Eirian=s collegues in the directorate had dubbed the killer AThe Engineer.@ Eirian disapproved. She believed that the nickname could tend to bias the thinking of the less experienced investigators, lead them to ignore potential suspects who didn=t have any connection to Engineering or tech- support positions, and frankly, it sounded far too made-for-media: concise, sensational, quotable. Unfortunately, the name had stuck, precisely because of it=s more offensive qualities, she suspected, and she had even begun to see it used in memos from her own people.

The situation irritated Eirian since there was no real reason to suppose that the killer had anything whatsoever to do with the Engineering sections. The areas chosen for the disposal of the children=s bodies were well known to be mostly deserted. Even on an unfamiliar ship, an intelligent person could make a reasonably accurate guess about the location of such areas; he might even be traveling to the ships before the abductions, checking out the sections, the best routes and crawlspaces for his purpose. Dr. Tarrance had suggested that he might even travel the routes several times, observing his intended victims, imagining the kidnappings, the killings, the disposal, none of which required an engineering degree, however, and Eirian suspected that the access ways were chosen merely for convenience.

However convenient the murderer might find his chosen territory, getting clearance for the surveillance of the Galactica=s Engineering section, even of the more remote parts, would be something of a problem for the director. The clearance would require Commander Adama=s prior approval, and although Eirian expected no trouble getting it, she would have to tell the commander why she wanted the surveillance. She would have to tell him about the other children. She found no pleasure in the prospect. She would have preferred not to have to tell the child=s family about the other abductions at all, not until she had more information, but in this case there was no choice.

Dismissing the two other CSOs, Eirian turned her attention to Reese.

AWhat is the name of the CSO guarding the corridor entrance, the one on the right?@

Reese looked toward the man she indicated and winced slightly.

ACSO Etan, ma=am,@ he replied in a concerned voice. AWhat=s he done now?@

Eirian laughed. AHis job, Reese, that=s all. Do a favor for me, though. Etan escorted an Ensign Melitta to her quarters for a few items. Ask him if he happened to notice what she took with her.@

AYes, ma=am. Are you expecting anything in particular?@

ANo. She just seemed unnaturally concerned about whatever she wanted to retrieve. It would be interesting to know what it was.@

Reese looked thoughtful as he turned away.

********

Milo crouched beside the door, a small stylus in his left hand, moving wires gently for a better view. He frowned, returned the stylus to the kit at his feet and picked up a portable electronic sensor. Balancing the device on one knee, the CS forensics chief made some adjustments on the keypad, aimed the wand attachment at the locking mechanism on the wall before him.

The sensor fell. Milo picked it up and settled it on his knee again, readjusted the settings, cursed the designers who had made the device too bulky to balance comfortably on its perch and the attachment=s wire too short to reach from the floor. Times like this I wish I had two hands. One of these days I=ll get around to rewiring the frakkin= thing --- or blast it to frakkin= charcoal.

He aimed the wand at the edge of the circular hole burned through the lock=s faceplate, starting at the top and slowly following the curve around. Watching the sensor unit=s display, Milo merely scanned over the information that scrolled up the small screen. There was too much data to analyze effectively on-site; much of it would have to wait until he could sit down with it in the labs. He could watch for certain indicators, however, small clues whose presence, or absence, would give him at least a basic idea of the type of device that had been used on the lock.

It certainly hadn=t been a handgun. A laser pistol like the ones carried by warriors and security officers would have blasted the plate to slag; the wires behind it would have been crisped; the intruder alarm would have sounded; the door would have had to be pried open. A gun would have been neither subtle nor quiet, and this job had been both.

A circular hole had been cut through the thin metal of the faceplate only, leaving the wires behind it unharmed; there was not so much as a scorch mark on the insulation of most of them.

The metal disk had been lifted out and placed on the floor. A bundle of wires controlling the alarm system, stretching immediately behind the plate, had been ignored completely, and the lock- control had been neatly hot- wired.

The alarm system itself was absurdly straight- forward, as Milo had discovered from the technical manual one of the CSOs had brought for him. The system was triggered by physical tampering with the alarm=s components or with the door while the alarm was active. If the wires were cut, or any attempt was made to pry open or cut through the locked door, the alarm would sound. The alarm was deactivated by entering a code on the keypad at the top of the lock=s faceplate, which also unlocked the door, and the only failsafe on the keypad itself was a second alarm which would sound if the wrong code were entered more than three times. In this case, when the intruder had hot- wired the lock, the main alarm had simply switched off, and the secondary alarm was by- passed completely. All of which was ludicrously easy, so long as one knew which wires activated the lock, and could get to them without disturbing the alarm=s wires, as he pointed out to ID Eirian when she joined him at the door.

AYou=d think that on a battlestar of all places the locks would at least be effective. My idiot intern could crack this one, once she got through the plate,@ he groused, tapping the schematic drawing in the tech manual resting on the floor.

His intern, a pretty red- head who happened to be walking through the door at that moment, rolled her eyes expressively.

Eirian smiled lightly.

AIn more sensitive areas they probably are. I expect the labs and armories are bristling with all kinds of security widgets and do- dads. These are residential quarters, though, and burglaries aren=t all that common on battlestars. At least, they weren=t till now.

AWhat was used to cut the plate? It looks like a tidy job.@

Milo grunted. AI have no idea. All I can really tell you right now is that it was a laser and that it wasn=t a gun. But look at this scoring around the edge of the cut.@

AScoring?@ Eirian couldn=t see anything unusual.

ALook close; here. . . and here. . . and here.@ Milo used a stylus to point out the areas along the edge of the hole as he spoke. The tiny scrapes were barely visible.

Eirian frowned at him questioningly.

ADon=t ask me,@ he shrugged, then sighed. AAll right, I do have some ideas; I=m going to have to take the plate back to the labs for some tests, though. And I=ll need to get my hands on some scrap metal similar to the plate=s as well.@

AColonel Tigh has assured me that we will have the Service=s full cooperation. Anything you need, just ask.@

ARight, then. Tresa!@

The intern stuck her head through the entrance with a questioning look.

Milo indicated the lock mechanism. AThe whole thing comes. You=ll need to send for a cutting torch. Maintenance is gonna love us; don=t let them give you any hassles. Be sure to cut power to this section before any cutting starts. And set up that recorder so I can start a list of materials. I assume you=ve gotten all the pictures you need of this area. May as well bring the door, too; I didn=t pick up any signs that force was used on it, but you never know. Maybe the probes down in the labs can see something I can=t.@

Eirian left Milo and Tresa to their plans and stepped into the apartment. The single room was divided nearly in half by a temporary privacy screen which had become permanent, judging from the collection of child=s drawings and school papers tacked to it with small magnets. Eirian had a similar wall at home for Minta=s artwork and papers. Kids do love to see their work displayed. Her stomach twisted suddenly at the association, at her private life=s intrusion here. She pushed the thought away, forced down the anger that threatened to surface, and concentrated on the particulars of the display; there would be time for more personal reactions later.

Most of the drawings were of Viper fighters, or shuttles, or of the battlestar itself, all rendered in improbable colors, blue, red, green and orange. The ships were surrounded by smaller bursts of red and yellow. Enemy ships exploding, she realized. Following in Daddy=s footsteps. Among the school papers were a short paragraph about trees from a science class and some math quizzes; reasonably good grades were recorded on all of them. A larger drawing near the top of the wall showed a map of a star-system, nine planets orbiting a single star. Eirian studied the wall for a few centons, noting the overall feel of the drawings; they were cheerful, if somewhat single-minded. The boy seemed to have little else on his mind except the war, a common enough trait among the children of the fleet, Eirian had noticed; being a member of this particular family probably encouraged the obsession.

As she turned away, her foot struck something small. Three small magnets lay on the floor at the base of the wall, similar to the ones supporting the drawings. Eirian studied the wall again; it was hard to tell if anything was missing. Perhaps the child had simply dropped them. She motioned to one of the CSOs from the evidence crew, drawing her attention to the small items, and making a mental note to ask the boy=s father about them, then resumed her circuit of the room.

A bunk, standard issue, took up most of the wall to the immediate left of the entrance. The covers were thrown back, reflecting the haste with which the occupant had left. There were three drawers under the bunk, unlocked, containing the usual personal effects. A bookshelf hung over the bunk, partially filled. Only a couple of novels were among the titles, none of them especially heavy reading. Most of the books were nonfiction --- a few manuals devoted to various aspects of viper fighters or shuttlecraft; a few academy texts, instructor=s editions; predictable titles. A slim volume labeled Intermediate Electronics caught Eirian=s eye; it was nestled between two of the larger fighter- craft manuals.

Pulling on a pair of protective gloves, she picked up the electronics manual. It was old and well- used, judging from the condition of the paper cover. Several slips of paper jutted from the top of the book. She opened to the first marked section. The marker bore a scrawled message: ref. VTM, pp. 45-7. Other markers bore similar notes; apparently the book was used as a supplement to the tech manuals. She turned to the back of the book, found no index -- Damn. The list of topics in the front of the manual was too vague to give her the information she was looking for; she=d have to ask one of the techs. Retrieving an evidence bag, she dropped the book into it, and placed it in the box of items to be removed to the labs.

Continuing around the room, a door in the far wall led into a small room containing the head and a shower stall, empty except for a few towels and shaving supplies. On the fourth wall, a small closet held a couple of extra battle suits, a dress uniform and a few articles of civilian clothing which looked as if they hadn=t seen the outside of the closet since they had been brought aboard. A few boxes were stacked on the floor of the closet, packed with what looked like the sort of personal effects one might want to keep but not necessarily display -- old photographs and the like. A packed flight bag was shoved onto the shelf in the top of the closet, ready to go.

Eirian moved on to the desk. Except for the computer terminal and comlink monitor, it was empty. She tried to remember the last time she had seen a desk belonging to an officer of command rank completely clear. The drawer was locked.

She motioned to the CSO.

ATell CSO Reese I want to see him.@

The younger man entered the room quickly, stopping within a short distance of desk.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" he asked nervously. Something in the tone of the summons had left Reese with the feeling that his superior was not happy about something.

AReese, was this desk like this when you arrived?@

AMa=am?@ Reese frowned, not really following the question.

AThe captain=s desk. It=s empty. Was it empty when you first got here?@

AYes, ma=am, I think so. . . Oh, no, surely he didn=t...@

AYes, he did. Warriors.@ Eirian shook her head disgustedly. AExactly where is the captain now?@

AConference room 2, level 3. Investigator Kyril is with him.@ Reese looked mildly space- sick.

ATell Kyril to hold him until I get there. There=re still a few things I want to look at here before I have a chat with Captain Apollo.@ She turned to the other officer. AHave you scanned the desk and terminal yet?@

AYes, Director. We found three different sets of prints and skin-oils, mostly on the terminal. We think one of them belongs to the child, and we know one of the others belongs to Captain Apollo; we recorded his prints in the scanner=s memory before we started. We haven=t found a match for the last set yet, but Milo has CSO Meari checking the prints against the Galactica=s personnel files. We should get a match. They probably belong to one of the captain=s associates.@

Eirian nodded. AIf they aren=t in the Galactica=s files, we=ll have them in Central Data. Have CSO Meari notify me as soon as she finishes her search. If they belong to someone who shouldn=t have been here, we might just have our first break.@

Reese quickly left to deliver his messages, and Eirian moved toward the partition wall and the child=s bedroom. It was the last sort of room she ever wanted to be forced to examine, and she had to work herself up to the act.

She stopped beside the remains of the child=s mechanical pet. Marna glanced back at her.

AHello, Eirian.@

AMarna. What=ve you got?@

Marna prodded the mechanism.

APretty much what you see. Fried drone bits. I was getting ready to box it up.@

Eirian knelt and turned the thing over gently, studying the singed fur and dangling wires.

AHe cut it=s throat? Doesn=t that strike you as a little bizarre?@

AEfficient is more like it.@

AHow so?@

AWell, this particular unit has a rather obvious weakness in its design. The computer that runs the whole show is stored in the body of the drone, while all of the sensory equipment is located in the head. When this guy cut the throat, he cut the connection between the two. Without sensory data this particular unit simply can=t function.@

AWhat was it supposed to do, defend the boy?@

AUhn- uh. Check out the muzzle. No teeth, just these shallow ridges, like on a regular robot=s gripper claws, for carrying small objects. It=s really just a high- tech toy; that=s probably why they ignored the design flaws. There=s a noise- maker attached, but that=s it. All it could do was bark a warning. If it did that much.@

AWhat do you mean?@ Eirian asked.

Marna sat back on her heels as a runner from the drone lab brought in a large box, then began packaging the daggit.

AI talked to the CSO who=s interviewing the neighbors, those who were home, and apparently this thing had a pretty loud bark. The Captain had to get onto the kid a couple of times for getting it so revved up the neighbors complained.@

AAnd last night?@

ANot a sound.@

Eirian chewed her lower lip for a few microns, considering.

AMaybe they just couldn=t hear it over the klaxon?@

AI thought about that, but the next door neighbor says the thing was that loud.@

AAnd even if it wasn=t, the klaxon doesn=t sound all during an alert, just the first few centons,@ Eirian finished for her.

ARight. If it had barked any time after the klaxon ended, they would have heard it.@

Eirian didn=t like the way this was going. An intruder would have had to wait until the corridor had cleared before he could begin work on the lock, and by the time he had gotten into the apartment, she was fairly sure the klaxon would have been silenced. If a total stranger had broken into the child=s quarters, the daggit should have raised an unholy racket.

ADid it have a volume control? Maybe after the complaints the father turned it down.@

ANo, I looked for that. There=s a volume control, but it=s part of the programming, not manual. That kind of alteration would have had to have been done in the drone maintenance lab, and according to the daggit=s internal records, this unit hasn=t been serviced in over a yahren.@

AInternal records?@

AYeah. Each robot or drone the lab produces maintains it=s own internal programming service records; that way the techs don=t have to go searching for them when they need to find out something about a unit=s history. It=s a log listing the type of procedure, the date, and the tech who performed it.@

AAnd these records weren=t damaged by the attack on the unit?@

ANo. As I said before, all this guy really did was sever the connection between the sensors in the head and the computer in the body. Blinded it, as it were; without sensory input, the unit shut down. The computer itself is fine. I just linked up and downloaded the records into my portable scanner.@

AWhat about the optical sensors? Any chance there=s a recording device attached to them?@

Marna frowned.

ANow, that I didn=t think of.@ She turned the small sensor unit over in her hands and punched in a search command; a micron later she looked up. AThere=s the driver for the sensor net, and a fairly large log of optical data; that could be it. Doc Wilker=s waiting in his lab for the drone=s examination. I=ll call him to confirm.@

The consultation took only a few centons.

ADoc says no, Eirian. The log I found is a friend-or-foe recognition file. It compares images of who ever it comes into contact with to the patterns recorded in the log and responds in what the computer deems to be an appropriate manner. There is a way to record data from the optical sensors, and even to transmit data to another site, but those functions require specific verbal commands to initiate.@

AIs there any way to find out how the computer decided to respond in this case?@

AThe action log. I=ll be analyzing it later when I have access to a larger computer, and I=ll send a copy to your office.@

AAny ideas about what caused the damage?@

AIt could have been a handgun, but I doubt it. The shot would have had to hit at an oblique angle. It would have traveled on afterwards, and I would expect to find scorch marks elsewhere in the room, but there aren=t any.@ Marna paused for a moment as she sealed and labeled the box, then turned back the Eirian as Wilker=s tech left with it. AIf I had to make a guess right now, I=d say it was some kind of finite laser, a fairly small hand- held unit, but as to the exact type. . . Maybe I=ll be able to tell you more after the exam.@

******

AWhat happened to your hand?@

AMy hand?@ His face clouded slightly.

Eirian reached out, almost touched the bandage that covered most of Apollo=s left hand. His eyes followed her motion.

AOh. That.@ He waved her question away distractedly. ANothing really. Electrical burn.@

She waited patiently.

Irritation flared briefly in his eyes as he finished his explanation, ACylon got a lucky shot, hit a stabilizer; the feedback came through my control panel. I got a little scorched.@

AHappen often?@

He shrugged. ASometimes. Even Cylons get lucky once in a while.@

A trace of a smile flickered across his face and was gone. He seemed to slip away into his thoughts for a moment.

AI suppose you had one of the medtechs fix it up once you got back.@

He roused himself with a visible effort.

AWhat? -- Oh, for this? No, Salik=s got enough for them to do without worrying about stuff like this. There=s a first aid kit in the ward room. I used it.@

ADid anyone else use the kit tonight?@

AYes. I helped Greenbean with a burn on his wrist. . . he was having trouble with the bandage. . . A his voice trailed off and he looked up sharply, his green eyes suddenly alert.

AColonel Eirian ---@

ADirector,@ she corrected. "CS no longer uses military-style designations."

AWhatever,@ he snapped, but brought himself up at a look from Tigh. AExcuse me. Director. I don=t understand. What=s the point of this? Boxey --@ He started to rise from his seat, suddenly agitated.

AAt ease, Captain,@ Tigh=s voice was soft but firm.

Apollo closed his eyes, took a breath, sat back again.

AYes, sir.@ His voice was still tense.

Eirian waited a few microns before speaking again.

ACaptain.@ She kept her voice carefully neutral. AI=m trying to establish a clear picture of where everyone was when Boxey was taken. It will give me a better idea of exactly how much time was available to our fellow.

ANow, the alert lasted exactly thirty- seven centons, according to the ship=s log. Then you spent some time in the ward room, bandaging your hand, and --- what was his name -- Greenbean=s wrist.

AIs that really his name?@

ANo, it=s a nickname. Everybody uses it. His real name is Noran, but I don=t think I=ve ever heard him called by it; he probably wouldn=t recognise it if he heard it. You can=t miss him --- he=s taller than most everyone and very blond.@

AOK. About how much time do you think this took?@

ATwenty, maybe twenty- five centons.@

AAnd after that?@

AI made a verbal report to the Commander on the bridge, then returned to my quarters intending to file a written report.@

ATime from ward room to quarters?@ Eirian prompted.

AHalf a centaur maybe.@

AOnly a half- centaur? That=s not much of a report.@

AIt wasn=t much of a battle.@

ADid you file the written report?@

ANo, of course not. As soon as I saw the lock I went looking for Boxey.@

AWas the door to your quarters open or closed when you arrived?@

AClosed.@

AYou=re sure?@

AYes. I=d=ve seen it from down the hall if it was open.@ His manner had gone flat again.

AAll right, you=re at your quarters and you=ve noticed a problem. Now what?@

AI drew my sidearm and pushed open the door.@ Apollo glanced at her briefly. AI didn=t know if whoever had broken in was still there or not.@

AWhy didn=t you send for help before you went in?@

He frowned, shook his head. AI don=t know. It didn=t occur to me.@

AYou pushed open the door. . .@

ABoxey=s bedroom door was open. It was closed when I left. I called Boxey, but he didn=t answer. I went to check on him. I saw Muffit as soon as I got to the door, and --@ his voice shook. He raised a fist a few inches and lowered it to the table again, slowly.

Tigh reached out and placed a steadying hand on Apollo=s shoulder.

AMuffit=s the drone, correct?@

Apollo nodded.

For the benefit of the recorder, Kyril murmured, ASubject indicated an affirmative answer.@

The captain looked startled, as if he had forgotten the second investigator was there.

Eirian thought for a moment, then asked, AWas your son alone in the apartment when you left last night?@

AYes. Well, Muffit was there.@ His voice was stronger now.

ADo you often leave Boxey alone -- without a human caretaker?@

He stiffened. ANot often, no. I try not to. I just -- Look, we were at battle stations, I didn=t have time to go out and hire a babysitter. I looked in on him before I left, and he was sound asleep. Muffit was there, and the door was locked. I thought he would be safe. I didn=t . . . Oh, God.@ He leaned forward and supported his head in one hand.

Eirian spoke softly, AApollo, I need to know if Boxey was often alone during alerts. There=s no indication so far that the intruder was interested in anything else in the apartment, which leads me to believe that your son was the actual target rather than an afterthought. If so, then our guy had to be fairly certain that Boxey would be there, and unsupervised. Am I right?@

He nodded reluctantly. AThere isn=t always time to drop him off somewhere, especially at night, and besides, most of my regular babysitters are either military or Life Station personnel. That leaves that guy next door, I never can remember his name, and, well. . . A He shrugged.

Kyril spoke up, AYeah, I=ve met him. I wouldn=t leave any kid of mine with him, either.@

AThis the same guy who complained about the noise from the daggit a couple of sectons ago?@ Eirian flipped through her notes for the name. ASadarian?@

AYeah, that=s the name. Don=t know why I can never remember it.@

AYou have much trouble from this Sadarian?@

ANot trouble, really, he=s just the kind of neighbor that you only see when he has a complaint. Unfortunately, I get to see a lot of him.@

AI know the type. Do you have any idea what Sadarian does when he=s not complaining?@

She almost got a real smile out of him. ASleep?@ he suggested. ANo, I think he=s in one of the data processing sections, or his wife is, something like that.@

AOK. So Boxey was alone in the compartment, except for Muffit, asleep. This wasn=t the first time. How many people would know about this?@

Apollo frowned, concentrating.

AI=m not sure. It isn=t really a secret, I guess anyone who cared to notice.@

AFine. Let=s go back to when you went into the compartment and found Muffit. What happened next?@

AOK. When I saw Muffit, I knew something was really wrong. I looked for Boxey, but I didn=t see him, he wasn=t in his bed or anywhere in the apartment.@

AIs that when you contacted Council Security?@

ANo. I called around, Life Station, my family, the ward room. I thought, well, I hoped that he had run away, or left before whoever had broken in arrived. I guess I wasn=t thinking very clearly.@

AWishful thinking.@

AYeah.@

AAnd when he didn=t turn up?@

AThen I called Security.@

AAnd then?@

AAnd then I waited for Reese to show up.@

AWhat did you do while you were waiting for CSO Reese?@

He shook his head, not really looking at anything. ANothing really. Looked around the apartment, tried to see if anything was missing.@

ADid you notice if anything had been taken?@

AThe blanket from Boxey=s bed was gone, but other than that, no.@

Eirian sighed. Apparently he was going to make her work for it.

AWhat about your desk?@

AMy desk? What about it?@ His attempt at innocence fell short.

AWhen did you clear it, and why?@

Tigh looked up sharply, and Apollo shifted uncomfortably. He hadn=t mentioned the desk to the colonel. He glanced at Kyril, who was watching him with renewed interest, and sighed.

AYes, I cleared my desk before Reese got there. I had been working on some reports before I laid down, nothing major but technically classified; I was tired and decided to leave them until morning. The klaxon woke me up, and I forgot all about the reports until after I=d called CS. I had to get them out of sight, and I didn=t have time to sort through it all, so I shoved everything into the drawer and locked it. Kind of hoped no one would notice.@

ACaptain, does the phrase tampering with evidence= mean anything to you?@

AOh, come on. What evidence? It was just some stuff from my desk.@

AYour desk was located in the middle of a crime scene,@ Eirian commented, her voice sharp.

AEverything at a crime scene is considered evidence until proven otherwise. How do you know this guy didn=t rifle through those papers, maybe take something with him?@

AI didn=t think about that,@ he admitted. AI just. . . I didn=t think about it.@

Eirian shook her head. AI ought to lock you up. If it weren=t for those reporters out there I would have Kyril escort you straight to the brig. Oh, don=t fret, Tigh.@ The colonel had been about to interrupt. AWhat little immediate satisfaction I would receive would be overshadowed by the headaches that would no doubt follow.@

Tigh nodded gravely. AI=m sure the Captain did as he felt best in the situation. He and I will discuss it at a later date,@ he skewered Apollo on a glare. AJust to be certain no misunder-standing has occurred.@

AColonel---@

Tigh silenced him with a gesture. ALater.@

Eirian studied the two men, each wearing an identically unreadable expression. She sensed a stone wall looming in her near future.

AIn a few centons, Captain, you and I are going to go back to your quarters. You are going to unlock that drawer, and allow my evidence team to scan the contents for prints and residue. Then you are going to look through the papers and tell me if anything is missing. Do you have any problems with any of that?@

ANothing I was working on would have been of any interest to an intruder.@

AIt was interesting enough to be classified,@ Eirian pointed out.

AA lot of things are classified. Trust me, Director, these are real dull reading, and they wouldn=t mean anything to most people.@

AMost people don=t break into compartments and kidnap small children.@

Apollo blanched. He had managed to submerge his feelings for a while, concentrating on the interview as if it were a mission debriefing, but the Director=s acid comment had brought him back to reality with a shock. His hand began to shake, and he clenched it into a fist to control it. Suddenly, he wasn=t sure how to proceed, and looked to Tigh for direction.

Tigh considered the matter for a few microns, then looked back at Eirian. AThey=re only going to scan for prints, not copy the material?@

AThat=s it. Of course, if a print shows up on something ---@ she noted Tigh=s expression, and pulled back slightly. A-- well, we=ll discuss that when it happens.@

AI=d like a moment to speak with Captain Apollo.@

AOf course.@ Eirian and Kyril moved to one side of the room, watching the two warriors, but safely out of earshot.

After a whispered consultation, Tigh nodded with a satisfied expression, and motioned the investigators back to the table.

AAll right, Director, I can allow a scan of the documents in question, as long as no actual text is recorded. I do want to be present for the proceedings, however.@

AAgreed.@

AVery well. It is so ordered, Captain.@

Apollo nodded, relieved.

Eirian relaxed somewhat and reclaimed her chair at the conference table.

AGood. Right now, though, we=re going to talk about you and Boxey, about your family and friends.@ She smiled at him when he frowned again. AIt might give me some ideas; you never know, even the smallest things can be useful.@

TBC…