tz.theicarushunt-第30节
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ibration 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
