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The story so far: Grim Khonsu is a serialised sci-fi detective noir story, set aboard a vast generation ship. Grim’s client, Aveline Peron, believes the changes in her partner Xavier are not normal. Grim stakes out Xavier’s place of work and sees a mysterious woman surreptitiously pass him something. He follows the woman. She goes into a room, there are sounds of a brief struggle, and an armed man races out. Grim’s case now involves a murder.
I did what any good citizen of Khonsu would do. I waited in the doorway to that small room, doing my best to avoid the dead woman’s glassy stare.
The authorities turned up after ten minutes. There were three of them — a senior, a junior, and the forensic. The doc pulled up a holo to record his findings as he headed to the body. I straightened my back and nodded to the senior officer.
“Officer Anard.”
“Grim. The shout mentioned you’d be here. Can’t say it filled me with joy.” He crossed his arms, pushed his large chest against his uniform, then shot a glance at the body. “Your work?”
“No.”
"Can you prove that?"
"Can you prove otherwise?"
"I'm asking the questions, smart-arse. Tell me what happened."
I told him. At least, as much as he needed to know. The woman was involved in a case and he’d need official documentation if he expected me to break client confidentiality. I’d been trailing her when she entered this room and didn't come out. The goon waiting for her opened fire on me as he ran, and I had a rule about not interfering with armed hoodlums until I'd had a decent lunch. I didn't mention Thor, or the other two.
He only believed about half of what I told him, which was fine by me. Durrell Anard wasn’t the sharpest, but he was solid, a street-hound Malo could rely on.
And as I told Anard my story, his colleague watched me warily.
“You going to introduce your shadow?”
The shadow frowned at that. Anard looked like he was considering the request, then said, “The probie’s Sopher.”
“Malo’s got you baby-sitting?”
“Transfer.”
“Up or down?”
“Don’t see it’s any of your business.”
It wasn’t. I ran my gaze over Probationary Officer Sopher. He was too thin. His eyes were cold as they met my gaze. His uniform was wrinkled, and it didn’t fit him too well. His shoulders were hunched, like he was trying to make himself smaller.
“How do you like being up on Tre?” I asked.
Sopher frowned, turned to his mentor. Anard sighed.
“He’s guessing, kid,” Anard said. “It’s what Grim does. Guess enough, sooner or later you come up trumps.”
“Thought he’d be older,” the kid said. “Thought he’d be more impressive.”
Anard shot me a glance. “You’ve disappointed him, Grim.”
“Happens a lot. You’ve heard stories, Officer Sopher?”
“Heard some.”
“Reckon you’ve heard all kinds of tales on the streets downstairs, right? And most folk doing the telling, they have an agenda.” I turned to Anard. “Would’ve thought a hound from Tessra would’ve had more smarts.”
“Kid’s plenty smart. Has you pegged as a nobody.”
“Then I guess he’s smart enough. Any smart thoughts on the stiff, probie?”
A series of looks passed between the hounds. It concluded with Anard nodding and Sopher taking a half-step towards the forensic. “Doc?” the kid asked.
I didn’t recognise the old guy, but he had the look of someone who knew his body parts. He glanced at Anard with a question in his eyes.
"Grim’s a nosy bugger," the hound said. "Might as well hear it now. Saves him the trouble of hacking kennel records."
"And you’ve got something to back up that accusation?”
Anard ignored me. “Tell us what you’ve got, Doc.”
The guy removed his gloves, brushed down his suit, then consulted the notes in his holo. "This is only a preliminary examination, you understand. I place time of death within the last half-hour, the cause being one blow to the back of the neck and a second to the top of her skull. A fast-tox screen shows nothing of interest in her system, and apart from the two wounds she appears to be in good health."
"She got a name?” Anard turned to me. "Unless you wanna tell us."
"I know nothing about her."
"But you were following her."
"I told you that."
"And I told you to cut the snap-back. Doc?"
"I ran her through the identification network, and it returned a name. Dalma Roginsky, of Star Minora. She's thirty-four years old, isn’t partnered, and earns bonus through freelance administration positions. She has no record of criminality."
"You got that from her biometrics?" I asked.
The guy looked at me again, then at the hounds. Anard nodded.
"I was able to access her assist, and that allowed me to pull data from Khonsu. However, I used biometric indicators to confirm her identity."
"So she's a nobody," Anard said. "Works admin, lives nose-ward in a nothing residential. Strange that she's so close to the Alley. Unless you know more than you're saying, raker."
"You want to watch the insults there. A guy could get offended."
“I’ve not even started. With your history, I’ve got enough to drag you in.”
"You do that. It'd been a while since I've had a chat with Chief Malo."
"You think he likes you or something?"
"I know he doesn't. So he won't be happy if you lead me to the kennel because you don’t like me. And the way I see it, you need help here."
"Not from some low-life raker. But I might have a few questions for you later. You stay put while probie here sniffs around.”
That was the signal for the kid to pull a holo, don his gloves, and check out the scene.
“Always instructive to watch the professionals in action,” I said to Anard.
“Shut up and let him work.”
Probationary Officer Sopher knew his stuff. He sub-vocalised constantly, and the holo recorded. He checked the room thoroughly. He paid attention to the doors and their systems. He was careful not to plant his narrow boots too close to the body. He even checked out the ceiling, prodding with an extendable baton he pulled from his belt.
He returned to his superior with a shake of his head. “Room’s a thoroughfare. High number of traces, and every one I’ve run through base has multiple records. Couple of monitors, but they’ve been on the fritz the last few days.”
“Handy,” Anard said. “Maintenance request logged?”
“Yesterday. In the name of Hisham Moscato. He oversees this building and a few others. A few run-ins, no hard record.”
“Which doesn’t mean he’s clean.”
“I have routines digging.”
They went back and forth a while longer, and I listened. Malo ran his hounds through a tough training process. The pair asked all the right questions. But they weren't questioning the answers.
At least, not in front of me. To get here so fast, they must’ve been local, on the periphery of the Alley. Zhusie had an unofficial agreement with Malo, so they wouldn’t be on her territory. She’d know about the incident, though. Thor might’ve been off-duty, but he’d have dropped her a message.
She might know what the woman was up to. She wouldn’t tell Malo’s hounds, but one of her people might tell me, if I asked nicely.
A couple of coffin-mules turned up, green uniforms and a body-bag trolley, and they took the stiff away when the doc said they could. Anard contacted the building overseer to explain that the entrance was now a crime scene and would be sealed. The Moscato guy didn’t sound happy, and that made Anard smile. He told the guy he could file a complaint at the kennel, and the guy shut up.
They ushered me out of the room then sealed it with their fixed holo hanging as a warning. Then Anard told me to bugger off.
“But don’t go anywhere we can’t get hold of you.”
“You mean I’ve got to cancel my trip void-side?”
“Reckon this place would be better off if you took that trip permanently.”
“You say the nicest things, Officer Anard. Pleasant meeting you, Probationary Officer Sopher. Don’t let this relic grind you down. He starts story-telling, you look for motive.”
I flashed them a smile and walked off. They watched me. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they continued watching once I was round the corner, out of sight.
I retraced my steps for a while then took a left, heading into the Alley. Leaf was in his primary spot, in a small alcove where the passage bent. The alcove gave him a decent view both ways. He was alone.
He wore a jacket with the collar pulled up. His beard was a line of hair dangling from his chin and stubble across his upper lip and on his cheeks. He wore a bud in each ear and he jerked about in some kind of dance as he waved his hands through a holo.
I stopped at his alcove. “Leaf.”
The guy’s face broke into a wide grin. “Reap! Long time no see. You check out that chai lad?”
“Checked him out. Second-rate.”
The grin wavered. “Nah, bud. He’s cool.”
“And his merch was off-cuts. Might not drink the stuff, but I know enough.”
“Ah, man! He swore he was legit.”
“Don’t sweat it. Not your problem. Got a favour, though. Wondered if you’d seen a certain individual around these parts.”
“I ain’t no squealer, Reap. You know that.”
“No foul squealing on the dead.”
“Corpsed?”
“About an hour ago. Lola, pull up images.” A holo fizzed alive to my right. I span through the images, selected one, twisted it so that Leaf could see. “Anything?”
He let out a long sigh. “Thought you were going to show me a death-pose.” He reached forward and twisted the image. It was a composite from when she’d left the trolley. “Body like that, doubt she’s all nature. Flamer for sure.”
“On the cold side now. You recognise her?”
His expression grew serious as he continued to manipulate the image, toggling to change her hair and clothing.
“Could be The Damsel.”
“Damsel?”
“Street-name. Can’t grab her true handle. Suppose I could with a bit of archiving.”
I shook my head. “Got her name. More interested in your Damsel’s work. She a regular?”
“Occasional. Not narcs. Maybe a few soothers, but nothing stronger.”
“She into flesh-play?”
“Don’t reckon. Way I hear it — and this is all tendrils — she’s more into tech. Heard she has dealings with some of the big biochem affairs.”
“Spinals?”
“Maybe. Not my scene.”
“Not now, you mean.”
He pulled a face. “Aw, don’t go raking that up!”
“Not judging. Never got your jack removed, did you?”
“Dead port’s no harm. Better things to spend my bonus on.”
I didn’t push him. Leaf might deal narcos, but he didn’t take anything but mild legits. And I knew he’d had a spinal jack inserted on a whim, regretted it almost straight away.
“You keep contact with anyone jack-related?”
“Told you, not my scene. Definitely not since Razzle. You heard about her, yeah? Got a new serum, sold as a high-end legit, but she was coming down from a heart thing, still had the bots in. Serum crossed the bots.” He shook his head. “Saw her, before she faded out. Looked ten years younger. Always hot, but it was like everything was enhanced. But when she spoke, she was distant, you know? Like a come-down, only different. Hard to explain.”
“So the serum wasn’t legit?”
A shrug. “Know they run testing, but that only goes so far. Cross the stuff with her bots, add some of the other stuff, and things could kateylays.” He frowned. “That the word?”
“Catalyse.” And legit serums were supposed to have all kinds of fall-backs. “So this Damsel’s into serums? She use, or just supply?”
“No idea, Reap. Word from a word, yeah?” He twisted the image again. “Body like that, could be through a serum. Could be straight bots.”
“Or natural.”
“Always possible. Still don’t know her deal, though. Sorry, man.”
“You know what companies she dealt with?”
“The biotech joints? Can’t say. Reckon they’re all connected anyway. Say there’s competition, but it’s a scam, right?”
“If it involves funds, then probably.” I closed the images, left the one Leaf still ogled. “You want to keep that?”
He pulled another face. “There a catch?”
“You think that little of me?”
“Know you, man. Might play square, but you still play.”
“Fair enough. Lola? Pull up my wallet.” When the wallet appeared I spun it open, called up an amount and pushed it across to the image. There was a ping as Leaf’s wallet registered it. “Payment for your time. And you keep the image, look a bit more. Might jog your memory deeper.”
I could see the moment when he fought inside. It didn’t last long. There was another ping as Leaf’s wallet accepted the bonus.
It was all unofficial. The wallets connected to holdings in Khonsu’s financial system, but they were encrypted and secure. The amount I’d spun him might’ve flagged questions in the holding, but Leaf would burn through it from the wallet, probably by the end of the day. A few services around Freedom Alley were going to have a happy customer.
“You know how to call me,” I said as I turned and left, with more questions than answers.