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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 investigation is nearing its conclusion, but Grim still has too many questions. Who killed Lin Leven-Jacobson, and why? Who ordered the death of the Damsel? Why did someone hire Regina the Rodent to remove Grim? And what part does Indrana Cordray play in the chaos surrounding the Perons?
I reported the dead thugs, gave as much as I could, then I split before the hounds turned up. I had what I needed. If Malo’s guys wanted to have a back-and-forth, they knew where to find me.
I had Lola set my place for work. She’d been monitoring my vitals, set dimmed lighting, had the files in the holos at a lower intensity. Easier on the eyes, didn’t interfere with the buzzing in my brain. The music was fast scattershot rhythms on the battery, stabbing low-end and drawn-out wails of horn. It matched my mood perfectly.
The puzzle was coming together. Beneath the chaos I sensed structure.
I reached for a file, pulled Donal Korda’s details, a bank of images for comparison. I focused on his right cheek.
“That look like a wound to you, Lola? Not a fist, but an open hand.”
“The pattern of discolouration would support that hypothesis.”
“Didn’t have the mark when he went into Per-LB, though.” I pulled images from other files. “Looks like the company’s negotiations aren’t only verbal. Our pal Xavier isn’t known for violence, is he?”
“His reputation would indicate he favours diplomacy and discussion in heated confrontations. There are records of him walking away when others showed signs of aggression.”
“And he doesn’t hire muscle either. Relies on tech for security. You contacted Korda, right?”
“I did. While he turned down the offer of a conversation, he did state that his many previous meetings with Xavier Peron have been entirely cordial, even friendly. An analysis of his phrasing would suggest he believes Xavier Peron to be under increased pressure at the current time.”
The battery kicked into a dance on the toms. I spun the images of those others leaving Per-LB’s offices. “Natuche reckoned Xavier had had a breakthrough. Said the changes Aveline’s so worried about are down to him being happy.”
“That is the gist of her words, yes.”
“So, San Peron has a breakthrough, but he’s showing signs of violence. And those around him are in cahoots with Khonsu’s crims.”
“In cahoots?”
“You know what I mean, Lola.” The battery kicked into a dance on the toms, polyrhythms over the bass. “Need to take another look at research. Pull connections between Per-LB and Leven-Jacobson, would you?”
“Do you wish to focus on the integration of advanced technology with biological systems?”
“You know me too well, Lola. Yeah, reckon this kill-switch is a trigger.”
“Was that a pun?”
“Not in a joking mood.” I flicked through the files Lola displayed. “Kill-switch theory’s sound, but there’s practical problems. Too many cases where monitor bots short-circuit synapses in the brain.”
“Anyone well versed in the field would find that description laughable.”
“Like you?”
“I believe I understand much of the work involved. And I meant no disrespect. As a very crude explanation, your statement suffices. The technology employed in both monitoring the body’s systems and in eliminating the kill-switch once the removal serum is injected has shown signs of interfering with biological systems in ways that were not predicted. Because the work is still not ratified for practical implementation, there is no official data on physical testing, so my data comes from sources with less-than-ideal veracity.”
I ran Lola’s words around in my head. “Makes sense. Biochem’s complicated. Everything connected. Screw with one bit, there’s repercussions all over. Sound research, but physical testing shows the problems.” The horn cracked into high harmonics, hints of notes beyond hearing. “Okay, park that for now. Pull those financials we got from Malo.” New files spread across the holo. “And bring up details of Aveline’s little purchase, would you?”
The additional file held a string of specifications next to an image bank. I didn’t need the specs to know that the weapon was a Priton B-46. The thugs who’d attacked me wouldn’t have been seen dead with something like that, would’ve laughed if someone had pulled a Priton on them. Multiple safeties, short and tight range, power settings that barely rose into fatal. It was a low-level protection weapon, designed to scare off a would-be attacker. Sure, a hit from a Priton wasn’t likely to kill — possible, but it took precise aim at very short range — but being slugged by a blast would still hurt, could still mean an expensive trip to a back-street medic.
“Hasn’t got a license for carry,” I said, perusing the accompanying file. “Blaster’s supposed to be stored, only used at a range.”
“That is correct. I will point out that you never saw the weapon itself.”
But I recognised the bulge. And if Aveline was carrying a gun, she felt in danger.
Or she wanted to inflict damage.
I let my lungs fill with air. I listened to the music. The disparate elements worked together now. It wasn’t something Minerva would appreciate, but I sensed the structure. I understood what was going on.
Didn’t mean I knew how things would end up, though. There was still work to do.
I pulled more files, going over old ground. Not circling, but spiralling. As the scattershot intensified over the horn’s wailing, I brought ideas around again, chipped away, placed them in different juxtapositions. There were possibilities here, and not only in what had happened. There were too many ways things could pan out. The Perons had access to funding and influence. Per-LB was a powerful, respected company. Xavier was careful.
But not careful enough. Everybody tripped up now and then.
He was smart, though. He’d know when things had taken a turn, and he’d work to bring them back. If I wasn’t careful — if I wasn’t smart about this — he’d cover his tracks.
I’d survived a couple of attempts on my life. The whole dissociation thing helped. But there were no guarantees.
If I wanted to bring this to a close, I had to take control.
And for that, I needed help.
“Lola. Get me Aveline Peron. And then check me as unavailable for the next twenty-four hours.”