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The story so far: Grim Khonsu is a serialised sci-fi detective noir story, set aboard a vast generation ship. After an eventful (and life-threatening investigation, Grim has the Perons together for the finale. And his first reveal — Xavier Peron has infected himself with an artificial sentience.
Accusations are interesting things. In my line of work, they often lead to violence, sometimes implicit, sometimes physical. A serious accusation can force a reaction. It can help cut through the crap.
Xavier had more self-control than the usual thugs I deal with. He sat motionless. His chest rose and fell with steady, deep breaths. Only the balling of his fingers and the spark of anger in his eyes showed the tension within.
Then he frowned, turned to an eyes-only holo that hazed into being to his right. The frown tightened. His fingers uncurled as he waved his hand through the air.
“We have a guest,” Lola told me.
Xavier shot me a look, and for a moment I thought he’d overheard her. But of course he hadn’t. Lola wasn’t that stupid.
The door behind me clicked. Cool air brushed the back of my neck with a scent I recognised. I didn’t turn, but Natuche and Aveline did. Xavier and Colville looked up. Xavier smiled.
“Your message suggested a private meeting, Xavier,” Indrana Cordray said as she stepped into the room, appearing to my left.
Xavier dismissed the holo, waved a hand in my direction. “Our inquisitive guest has been playing games, and for the moment we’re indulging him. You might find it entertaining.”
Indrana pulled back the remaining free chair, between me and Natuche. She nodded curtly to Natuche, then to Aveline. To Colville she offered a smile that made his mouth twitch. Only when she’d settled in the chair did she look at me. It was a long look, travelled up and down.
“So you arranged this meeting. You could’ve made an effort.”
“At least he left his hat by the door,” Xavier said.
“The hat was one of the more interesting things about him. So, San Grim,” and she said that like it had weight and a sharp edge, “what’s your game?”
“He’s been making allegations,” Xavier said. “He’s accused me of injecting myself with — as he termed it — an artificial sentience.”
A tilt of her head, and a lift of her eyebrows. Nothing I could read too much into. She’d shaped her eyebrows recently. There was a subtle glow of colour on her cheeks and around her eyes. Her lips were red and full, and her hair hung behind her ears with a studied nonchalance. I caught that floral aroma again, reckoned it would be strong on her neck and wrists, other places more intimate too.
The Peron arrangement allowed for intimacy with others. It was also flexible. No reason more members couldn’t join. Or replace existing ones.
“And I’m sure he’s about to provide his damning evidence,” Xavier continued. “That’s correct, isn’t it, Grim?”
Aveline leaned forward. Her expression fell when I shook my head.
“My line of work, I run on hunches more than anything.”
“So this accusation is conjecture? It isn’t based on anything solid?” He sounded almost too happy.
“Over the years, I’ve learnt to trust my gut,” I said. “Something feels off, it usually is. And if my gut says things are connected a certain way, I’ll go with that until proven otherwise.”
“So you trust your digestive system rather than your brain.”
“If you’ll excuse the language, it does a good job of sifting through the shit.”
Xavier turned to Aveline. “Our detective friend does have a way with words, doesn’t he?”
“And when something smells of shit,” I said, “that’s normally because someone’s dropped a load somewhere.”
“Charming. And you turned to this person for help, my dear? You couldn’t have found someone more refined?”
Aveline pushed back her shoulders. “He’s uncovered your secret, dear Xavier.”
“No. He has a hunch about them. That’s not the same.”
“He’s right there, Aveline,” I said. “Don’t have any hard evidence about him jerking around with that sentience stuff. But the murders are something else.”
Natuche leaned forward. “Murders?”
I nodded. “Lin Leven-Jacobson.”
“I thought she died from complications with her medication.”
“Sure. But those complications weren’t accidental. Were they, Xavier?”
“You believe I killed her? Is this another of your wild hunches?”
“Never said you did the deed yourself. But you let your assistant know she needed to be taken out. Isn’t that right, San Cordray?”
Indrana laughed, unconvincingly. “And why would Xavier want San Leven-Jacobson dead? Hasn’t he benefited from her research?”
“Sure. Benefited, past tense. Might’ve carried on benefiting, but she wasn’t happy with where he was taking her research. Was she, Xavier? Worked on theory, but she understood the risks if things went further. So when she got wind of your scheme, she tried talking you out of it. Might’ve hinted she’d take the matter to the authorities, get in contact with Tech Ethics. They’re slow, but they’re thorough. Good chance they’d finger you sooner or later. And when your charm didn’t back her down, you had to take another approach. Right?”
Xavier shook his head. He didn’t smile. “You didn’t know Lin,” he said. “She was pure. Practicalities were never a consideration.”
“Didn’t use to be. But she’d had her research twisted before. You know about the kill-switch, right?”
Xavier pulled a face. “I never liked that term.”
“You and Lin both. But it came from her research. Bio systems are complex, too many variables to map, too much that can’t be predicted. Technicalities are beyond me, so don’t shoot me if I sound like a low-life degenerate here. Thing is, Lin knew that theory needed practical, controlled field tests before being let loose. So she ran a side-project, some kind of smart bot that could monitor systems, could turn off tech. Unforeseen issues crop up, and there’s no other way to counter them, her bots would kill the project.”
I paused. Indrana wore a mask now, sat rigid. She must’ve known where this was going.
“And her work leaked. Ended up in the hands of those with more fluid ethics, white-coats who weren’t averse to accepting payment from Freedom Alley. They used her ideas to develop the kill-switch.”
Natuche frowned. “Sorry, but I’m confused here. If this kill-switch stops experiments causing damage, isn’t that a good thing?”
“If that’s all it does, sure. But Alley dogs, they don’t think like that. Want to ensure loyalty, so they twisted the kill-switch. Inject their thugs with a serum — from what I know, this only works through a spinal at the moment — and it throws a poison into their body. Might be slow-release, might be rigged to run under certain conditions. Only way to stop it is with an antidote.”
Natuche nodded. “The kill-switch. That sounds about right for those people.”
“Sure.” I turned to Indrana. “Those people.”
She found her voice. “What are you implying?”
I shrugged. “You worked for Per-LB, and you worked for LLJ. You had access to Lin’s research. And you passed that on to your sister.”
Xavier leaned forward. “Sister?”
“Guess she never told you. Indrana Cordray doesn’t exist. She’s Ramana Netoma. Comes from the Alley, has a sister called Regina Netoma, although most know her as Regina the Rodent. Small-time operator with big ideas, pushing out beyond the Alley. Controlling kill-switch tech’s a major asset.”
Xavier turned to Indrana. “Tell me he’s imagining things. Tell me this is nothing more than a wild hunch.”
Indrana closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath, then opened them, held Xavier’s gaze, pushed back her shoulders. “I’m not proud of where I come from. That’s why I changed my name and became a new person. My past has no bearing on what I am today.”
“Beg to differ,” I said. “No love lost between you and your sister, but you knew how handy Alley contacts could be. You gave your sibling that research so you could call in a favour later. And when Xavier became concerned Lin might screw him over, you called in that favour.” I sat back. “And then you called in another favour, had your sister come after me.”
Growing up in the Alley had given Indrana strength. She ran a hand through her hair as she studied me. Her eyes flickered with deep thought. And then those full, rounded lips curled up at the corners.
“You mentioned murders, plural,” she said. “Even if what you’ve said is true, Lin is only one person. Or are you blaming me for those thugs you killed?” Her smile widened. “You throw around accusations of conspiracy to kill, but you’re the only one in this room who has blood on your hands.”
I shrugged. “The hounds already have that down as self-defence. They knew the risks when they joined your sister. No, the only death you take the blame for is Lin Leven-Jacobson’s.”
Her smile faltered, didn’t disappear entirely. “But you mentioned more than one murder.”
“Sure. Other one was the Damsel.”
“The Damsel?”
“Reckon Xavier knew her as Dalma Roginsky. Freelance courier. Ran mild narcos, not enough to bother the authorities, but her speciality was data. Connected to tech and bio companies, helped out with joint ventures that weren’t on the books. Passed data the hard way, stuff people didn’t want running through trackable systems. Used isolated chips, heavy encryption, the kind that need hard-inserting.”
I turned to Xavier. He didn’t look happy beneath his mask. “Word of advice, pal,” I said. “Next time someone makes a drop, don’t be so eager to pick it up. Move too fast, you make things too obvious.”
Xavier’s eyes narrowed like that would change the past. “And you claim this woman was the second murder victim, correct?”
“Technically the first. Died before Lin did.”
“And your gut tells you she was helping me. If that’s the case, why would I want the poor woman to meet an untimely demise?”
“You know, you get all flowery with your language when you’re stressed. That an old quirk, or is it the artificial sentience pushing through?” I waved a hand. “But I never said you had the Damsel rubbed out.” I turned my head, stared at the person to my right. “Aveline did.”