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mattress； wedging its center under the lower bunk beside the ferrets' nest and letting the rest drape down from there onto the floor。 Assured that they could get to the floor if they wanted exercise or to Ixil if they wanted pany； I turned off the light and left the cabin。
There were no locks on any of the Icarus's interior doors。 Up till now I hadn't really worried much about that； but up till now my partner hadn't been lying atose and reasonably helpless after what might or might not have been an effort to kill him。 Pulling out my multitool； checking both ways down the corridor to make sure I was unobserved； I removed the cover of the release pad from the center of the door and pulled out the control chip。 On the underside； snugged inconspicuously between two of the connector feet； was what I was looking for： the timing dial； which told the door how many seconds it was to stay open unless you overrode it by locking the door in place。 Using the narrowest screwdriver from the multitool； I eased the dial from its preset position all the way to zero； then returned the chip to its socket。
Experimentally； I touched the release pad。 Not only did the door open barely ten centimeters before slamming shut again； it did so with a startlingly loud clunk as the buffer mechanism that normally provided for a smoother closing failed to engage。 For a moment I flashed back to the metal…on…metal sound I'd heard at least twice now aboard the Icarus； wondering if there could simply be a bad buffer in one of the doors。 But even allowing for the sound to be filtered by distance； I knew this wasn't it。
I put the cover back on the pad and went down the corridor to my own cabin。 It was far from a perfect solution…anyone bent on unscrupulous deeds； after all； could presumably open the release pad himself and ungimmick it as easily as I had； assuming he knew about the adjustment dial； which most people didn't。 But for the moment it was the best I could do。 At least this way any attempt to get to Ixil would generate a noise and vibration 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 t