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The story so far: Grim Khonsu is a serialised sci-fi detective noir story, set aboard a vast generation ship. The case seemed so simple — Aveline Peron wanted Grim to investigate the changes in behaviour exhibited by one of her partners, Xavier. But that investigation has thrown up two suspicious deaths, attempts on Grim’s life, and more questions than answers. What tech is Xavier and his company exploring? How does that connect to his previous work with Lin Leven-Jacobson? What role does the freelancer Indrana Cordray play in the game? And will provoking her help or hinder the case?
I took the spine and a cross-trolley, reached The Foreshore in half an hour. If she’d hired a runabout, Indrana might’ve been faster, but she wasn’t the kind to act rashly. She’d calm herself down and think things through.
I took my usual seat. The server appeared, fresh uniform and fresh smile. “Just a water, or are we eating today?”
“Might go for a pastry. What’s good?”
“Oh, everything. You know that.”
“Sure. Your choice, then. Thanks.”
Looked like I was becoming a regular. The girl retreated, banging her thigh against a chair on the way. I almost caught what she called it. She limped behind the counter and pulled up a holo. Probably an accident report form. I turned my attention to the street, eyes-only holo open as cover. I focused on the entrance to Per-LB.
There was limited action. As I sipped my chilled water and nibbled the pastry — it was as good as it looked, and I nodded my appreciation to the girl, got a wider smile in return — I noted a couple of suits enter. A while later, one exited. He shook his head as he stepped away from the offices. When he turned to glance back at the door, the red mark on the side of his face was clearly visible.
“Lola. You able to identify?”
“If you refer to the individual departing Per-LB’s offices, a cross-reference of records shows him to be Donal Korda.” A data-file opened as the holo hazed, Lola kicking the eyes-only up a notch. “As a summary, he’s engaged by many companies to assist in negotiating contracts. He has a formidable reputation.”
“And doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way?”
“Reports suggest he doesn’t become emotional. He’s known for his clinical detachment.”
“Guessing he might lose that if someone slapped him around the face.”
“I shall add his data to the case-file for future perusal. I believe you will be more interested in the person approaching from your left.”
Indrana Cordray was unmissable. She strode along the street, head held high. Others watched, some more surreptitiously than others. She ignored them all.
“Took her time,” I said as she entered the lobby to Per-LB.
I caught the server’s eye and raised my now-empty glass. It only took her a moment to bring over a full one.
“Thanks. You okay?”
“Okay?”
“You bumped into that chair earlier. The guy in the grey jacket didn’t push it back under the table.”
“Oh, that. I’m fine.”
“You want a tip? Soak a cloth in cold water and hold it against your leg for a couple of minutes. It’ll bring the swelling out and help your body recover.”
“It will?”
“Something like that. Works for me, anyway.”
“I’ll try it. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
She nodded and walked away, trying not to limp. The chair still stuck out, but she pushed it back under the table as she passed, hard enough that the table shook.
“That method of reducing the swelling of a bruise only works if the water is almost at freezing point,” Lola said.
“Still has a psychological effect. Kid doesn’t seem too focused today.”
She returned a few minutes later. “Your water, San.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t limp so much as she returned to the counter. Her holo showed a blurred message which she read, fingers dancing out a response before waving the holo aside.
Indrana reappeared as I contemplated licking my finger to get the remaining crumbs of the pastry. She brushed down her top, straightened her back, and set off.
I waved the server over. The girl was by my side far too fast.
“My compliments to the old woman,” I said.
“She won’t like you calling her that.”
“Say it’s a sign of respect. Can I pay?”
“Of course.” She waved the bill into a holo. I pulled my account details, slid the amount across. She smiled. “All done. See you around.”
“I’m sure you will.” I took my hat from the bench, placed it on my head as I stood. “Always appreciate the view here.”
She blushed, then glanced across the plaza. Towards Per-LB’s lobby.
I strode out. The server stood watching, fingers tapping in her holo.
“Last time I followed someone from this place,” I muttered, “they wound up stiff.”
“That was a statistical anomaly,” Lola said.
“Doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”
Indrana turned before the trolley stop, took a cut-through to Broadstreet. Groups hung around booking stalls outside the rec centre as employees showed off the activities — and themselves. Many watched Indrana pass. If they bothered to look at me they did so with disdain. Which was fine by me.
San Cordray kept her head high, attention flicking from the street ahead and the blurred holo to her right. Her lips moved as her hand waved through the hazy air.
“We close enough to lip-read?”
“Not with any clarity, although analysis suggests Indrana Cordray is communicating with multiple individuals.”
“At the same time?”
“Consecutively.”
“She’s busy. Don’t suppose you can get deeper into those communications?”
“Not without explicit authorisation.”
“Didn’t think so.” And Malo would need cause beyond hunches for that.
Indrana took a right, through Fantasy Aisle. Not the official name, but the one everybody used. Immersive entertainment booths vied with old-time stage set-ups. The thesbian pits even had read actors.
Stories for the masses. Escapes from reality. Indrana ignored them all. As she passed a plug-in den she waved a hand violently through her holo, and for a moment the blurring cleared enough to see an ugly, mean face that wouldn’t have looked out of place in The Depths. Or in Freedom Alley.
I reminded myself that Indrana’s sister was the Alley’s Rat Lady. That Indrana had called in a favour with her sib, but The Rodent had soured on the deal. And now dear little sister rubbed shoulders — and more — with players in the biotech world.
“Everybody playing everyone else,” I muttered as the woman continued, passing a shadow-shielded doorway, the sign over the top advertising some show that could’ve been a comedy, could’ve been a drama. The figures in the ad were paired off, so it might’ve been something else entirely.
She left Fantasy Aisle, turned into Canyon Park. Whoever named it has illusions of grandeur. The closest the space came to a canyon was the river that ran through the greenery. The water was shallow enough to see the rocks and pebbles on the bed. They never moved. Probably fixed down.
I followed San Cordray along the winding paths. If she spotted me she gave no sign, seemed too focused on her holo. Still yakked away.
The park was fake. Of course it was. There was no real nature on Khonsu, not even in the vast parks on upper levels, not even in Grand Park on Primo. The plants were manufactured in bio-labs. The water-courses were engineered. The contours were pre-planned.
The only true nature on Khonsu was us, the residents, and I wasn’t too sure about that. The way I understood it, we’d been a part of nature back on the old rock, our biological processes entwined with the physicality of the world. But in this hulking tin can, that world had to be replicated. Air and water were filtered, cycling constantly. Everything was monitored. The white-coats kept us healthy, kept disease at bay, but how natural were the bots they used?
Then there were the freaks. The breeding experiments down in the pit might be officially sanctioned, but it was no secret that many went beyond protocols. Gene-play wasn’t only used to remove problems. The mutations went way beyond cosmetics. Sure, the ethics committees checked things ran clean, and biotech research could stretch as far as they liked so long as it remained theoretical. But theory bled into practice, same as my hunches bled into known facts. The whole field was shaky.
That didn’t stop the investors, though. If things veered into dodgy territory, deep pockets greased the committees. Promises made punters hungry enough to give the investors a decent return, and the white-coats satisfied their lust for adventure in murky biochem and quantum worlds.
It was a game. Xavier Peron and the rest of the four-way played the game hard. The Leven-Jacobsons played, albeit in the shallows.
And Indrana Cordray played too.
She circled the park, heading back towards Fantasy Aisle. Her chatter never let up. The haze of her holo flickered with each wave of her hand. Treading old ground, but with fresh insight. Planning something.
The back of my neck itched. I knew what that meant. My heart thumped.
Indrana took a right before Fantasy Aisle, down one of the side-streets, low roof where buildings from either side closed in, sealed doorways with inset monitoring. Not the Alley, but not the kind of street someone like Indrana would normally choose to tread.
Not unless she had protection.
“Lola? You monitoring?”
“Always.”
“Good to know.”
Indrana turned into an alley, a cut-through that led to local residentials. The kind where people didn’t linger to admire the view.
I felt myself disassociate, became an observer as my body strode into the dimness, back straight and head high. I pulled my hat lower on my head. There was static in the air.
Ahead, the passage turned. Indrana increased her pace and disappeared from view. When I rounded the bend she was nowhere to be seen. I had to assume she’d slipped into one of those bland doors.
But I wasn’t alone.
I stopped walking. Dissociated, I analysed the situation.
Ahead, three large figures. Two males, one female, all wearing padded body-suits, all muscular, all letting their loose-fitting jackets flap open to show holstered blasters. It was hard to be certain from this distance, but they looked like Mercher-54s, designed to be quiet, limited power but effective at close range. The thugs looked comfortable with their weapons.
Behind, another trio. All male, similar attire and attitude. All wore blasters, hands hovering over the holsters.
I’d walked straight into Indrana’s trap.