“In its day,” he smiled, “it’s gone out against all sorts of pirates and monsters.” He took it down from its shelf and held it in both hands, as if weighing his childhood. “My grandmother passed it on to me.”

“But,” she said, “you discovered there were no pirates.”

“Alas, no. At least not in starships.” His fingers lingered against its burnished hull. “What’s the old saying? The stuff of dreams.”

The books on the shelves included Harcourt’s Principles of Galactic Formation, Al Kafir’s Alone in the Universe, McAdam’s The Shores of Night, Magruder’s Far As the Eye Can See, Ravakam’s The Limits of Knowledge.

Not at all the sort of reading she’d have expected from a man whose primary concern was running a major corporation. One never knew.

The fireplace crackled and a log broke. Sparks rose into the room.

“The Hunter is a lovely ship,” she said, to steer the conversation back toward Kile Tripley.

“Yes, it is. I was on it several times when I was a boy. But never in flight, I’m sorry to say.”

“It was a Tripley Foundation vehicle for forty-some years, wasn’t it?”

“Precisely thirty-three years, seven months,” he said.

“They sold it after your father’s death?” She deliberately misstated the facts, not wanting to seem too knowledgeable about the details.

“His disappearance,” he said. “His body was never found.

But yes, they sold it a few years after. There was no longer any point in keeping it. No one else was interested in deep-space research. At least, nobody who mattered. You know, of course, that’s what they used it for.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know.” Tripley, she was aware, had been eleven years old when he lost his father. He’d been living with his mother at the time, and apparently had seen little of the star-hopping Kile. “Do you share your father’s interest in exploration?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not especially. He wanted to find life somewhere. And sure, if it’s out there, I wouldn’t mind being the one who bags it. But no, I can’t say I’m prepared to devote time and money to it. Too much else to do. And the odds are too long.” He glanced at his commlink, checking the time. Signaling her that the meeting was drawing to a close.

“Ben,” she said, “do you think the Hunter was in any way connected with the Mount Hope explosion?”

His face might have hardened. She couldn’t be sure. But his voice cooled. “I’ve no idea. But I’m not sure I see how it could have been.”

“There was a lot of talk about antimatter at the time,” she said.

Suspicion clouded his face. “I’m sure you have the details tucked away where you can find them, if necessary, Kim. Look: I’ve heard the speculation too. God knows I grew up with it. But I honestly can’t imagine why either Markis or my father would have removed any of the fuel from the Hunter, taken it to the village, and used it to blow up a mountain. Or for that matter, how they could have done it. Remove a cell from its magnetic container, and it explodes on the spot.” He transfixed her with a stare that was not angry, but wary. And perhaps disappointed. “What do you think happened, Kim?”

She let her eyes lose focus. “I don’t know what to think. The explosion does have an antimatter signature—”

“There’s no evidence to support that.”

“The yield suggests it.”

He shook his head and let her see he’d lost confidence in her common sense. She had intended to say that the only people in the neighborhood who had a connection with antimatter were Kane and his father. But she was needlessly antagonizing him. And she didn’t know for a fact there was no one else anyhow.

“Let me get this straight,” Tripley said. “You think my father and Kane were conducting an experiment of some kind. And the experiment went wrong. Or that they were involved in a theft.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“The implication is clear enough.” He stared at her. “It didn’t happen. My father wasn’t an experimental physicist. He was an engineer. He wouldn’t have been involved in anything like that. Couldn’t have been.”

“What about Markis?”

“Kane was a starship captain.” He had settled back into his chair. “No. You can forget all that. Look, I don’t know what happened in Severin any more than anyone else does. But I know damned well it wasn’t my father playing around with a fuel cell. Chances are, it was a meteor. Plain and simple.”

“Ben,” she said, “do you have any idea whether Yoshi Amara might have been at your father’s villa around the time of the explosion?”

His gaze sharpened. “What makes you think that? I’ve never heard that charge made before.”

She’d gone too far. What was she going to tell him? That she’d found a shoe that was her size? “There’s some indication,” she said, plunging ahead.

Tripley looked like a man dealing with gnats. “May I ask what sort of indication?”

“Clothing. It’s probably hers. No way to be sure.”

“I see.” He glanced over at the Hunter. “Sounds weak to me. Kim, I hope you aren’t going to drag it all out again. Whatever might have happened, the principals are dead.”

She nodded. “Not all the principals. Some of them are still wondering what happened to their relatives.”

He clapped his hands together. “Of course,” he said. “That’s why you look so much like Emily.”

“Yes.”

“Her sister? daughter?”

“Sister.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I truly am. Then you must know how I feel. But I think it’s a mutual loss that we simply have to accept.” He’d come around the desk and was escorting her to the door. “Let it go, Kim. I don’t know what happened to them any more than you do, but I’ve long since come to terms with it. I suggest you do the same.”

Worldwide Interior specialized in custom decor for executive and personal yachts and the entire range of corporate vehicles. They were fond of saying that after Interstellar put in the electronics, Worldwide added the ambiance and made every vessel into a home.

Kim was given the tour by Jacob Isaacs, the public information officer. Isaacs was in his fourth quarter, as the saying went, in excess of a hundred fifty years old. He’d begun to gray, and he walked without energy. “They think I provide dignity,” he confided to her with a smile. In fact, in a society in which almost everyone looked young, persons who’d begun to show their age were at a premium and were often given what some thought was an unfair preference in hiring and promotion.

They walked together around a virtual Hunter, while Jacob described the ship’s features. Not her sensing capabilities or her propulsion systems, but the more cosmetic qualities. Hull design and esthetic considerations. Note the balance between architrave and portico. Observe the second-floor terraces. This was a ship that could have been placed on manorial grounds in the most sedate part of Marathon and it would not have been out of place. Except, of course, for the propulsion tubes extending from the rear.

And the lander, which was connected to the ship’s underside.

She’d explained that she was working on a history of the corporate fleet during the past half century, and to this end she’d become interested in Worldwide. How had they gotten started refurbishing spacecraft interiors?

“The founder, Ester DelSol, started in food distribution. DelSol and Winnett.” Isaacs looked at Kim as if she should have recognized the firm. She nodded as though she did. “The story is that she took a flight to Earth to visit her family and noticed how bad the onboard food was. And she saw her chance. She took over the franchise and provided the carriers first-class cuisine at reasonable prices. One thing led to another. There were plenty of corporations around to service engines and handle electronics, but the carriers themselves had to take care of the cosmetic stuff. It was expensive but necessary and it was done on a hit-or-miss basis.”