The Slip: The Complete First Season

by Herschel K. Stroganoff

  “You know the games are always rigged?” Tshilidzi asked.

  “Always,” Hari smiled, “but playing isn't always about the winning.”

  Tshilidzi smiled as the elevator slowed for docking.

  Gustav's Bar, Insularum 3, Lunar

  Akira wore a grey jacket as she nursed a glass of bitter cider in a dark corner of Gustav's bar. It wasn't a drink she was keen on, but it was cheap, and cheap was hard to find in Insularum.

  A new contact from the Boeki had left her a message to meet, so Akira suggested Gustav's. The bar was low-rent enough for it not be frequented by the Lunar elite, but quiet enough not to attract criminals or security officers. Though she found its chairs uncomfortable, its decor of wood-effect panelling and glittering abstract light displays unbearable, and the name above the door dubious, Akira felt at ease.

  Sipping her cider, Akira watched as Wynn Efans entered the bar. He stood for a moment surveying the room before striding over.

  “Akira, isn't it?” he said, offering a hand.

  Remaining seated, Akira nodded.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

  Akira glanced down at her glass, two-thirds full. “I'll have another measure of cider, please.”

  She pushed her spectacles up her nose and sipped her cider while Wynn ordered the drinks.

  With drunks in hand, Wynn sat down opposite Akira.

  “I've not been here before,” Wynn said as he looked around the bar. “Interesting choice.”

  “What the fuck is going on with the Secretary?” Akira asked.

  “You don't mess about do you?” Wynn laughed. “To be honest, I was hoping you'd have some insights on that front.”

  Akira leaned back in her seat, then took a large gulp of cider. “Honestly, you want my opinion? This whole thing - this stuff with the Yao, the weapons vote, the Kurosawa deal - it's all very—” Akira paused, “—convenient.”

  “Convenient is one way of putting it,” said Wynn.

  Akira gulped the final mouthful from her glass. She turned, placing the glass on the next table, then turned back to pick up her new drink.

  “I know I can trust you,” Wynn said with a hesitant tone. “This is all - all of this - it's completely between us. This meeting never happened.”

  “Of course.” Akira smiled, raising her glass.

  “At first I was just outraged that Ozu would be so opportunistic. But - and this is the big but - the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced there's got to be a link between the Yao deaths and this whole thing.”

  Akira raised her eyebrows - a gesture she'd practised over many years. “Do you really believe that?”

  “That it's convenient?” Wynn shrugged. “Sure, how could anyone with a grain of sense not believe that?”

  “No, I mean the link. Is there a direct link between Ozu and the murders?”

  “Directly?” A gloomy expression passed over Wynn's face. “I'm not sure. It's a stretch, but it's a stretch whichever way to look at it: The Purdah doesn't add up; Ozu seems disproportionate—”

  Akira leaned forward. “What about Muedin? Tomas was all over this.”

  “Again, it's a stretch. Perhaps more so than Ozu and the Purdah. The motivation to get rid of the Yao in this way is just—” Wynn exhaled then took a sip from his glass.

  “But the vote? That was clearly planned.”

  Wynn scratched his chin, considering his words for several seconds. “Look, a few years back, the idea of putting forward a similar motion was being floated, mainly by Muedin and Aghoro. The Boeki wanted no part of it, most of the orbiters wanted no part of it, and the Yao certainly wanted no part of it.” Wynn took a long sip of his drink, then wiped his mouth with a sleeve. “They knew the vote wouldn't pass, so it was never put forward as a motion.” Wynn frowned. “Can you imagine what would happen if an orbiter was breached? You're talking hundreds of deaths minimum, perhaps more.”

  “I suppose,” said Akira. “And what if they landed in the wrong hands?”

  “That was our objection then - it's our objection today.”

  “So the timing of the vote could be opportunism, nothing more?”

  “That's what I'm saying,” said Wynn. “I'm not sure if that's what I necessarily believe, but it does make a kind of perverted sense. You have the motion ready and put it forward at the opportune moment. Why not?”

  “That's pretty grubby,” she said, inspecting her fingernails.

  “That's politics.”

  Akira nodded. “Why do you think Ozu is waging war against the Purdah?”

  “Is that a question? Honestly, the Purdah isn't what Ozu is selling, but you know that, right? You must know that?”

  “Honestly, I'm not really sure what the Purdah is - as far as I can tell it's not even a real organisation. At least not in the sense of an Affiliate.”

  “It's bullshit to be blunt. It's a convenient label; that's all. I'm pretty sure it's just small gangs into piracy. I've never been convinced there's any firm links between them, any organisation, any real communication.” Wynn gave a shrug. “The gangs work alone - it's convenient for them to fall under the same label.”

  Wynn swirled his glass. “There are some segments working towards something good - trying to free up trade, open up farming and medicine. Obviously some of the Affiliates will be against that, but as far as we're concerned it can only be positive.”

  “So, what does Ozu want with weapons?”

  Wynn stared into the distance. “I hope we never have to find out,” he said.

  L5 Casino Platform, Lunar

  Tshilidzi ambled across the casino floor - a kilometre stretch of gaming tables, fighting cages and betting machines. Garish lights flashed as ringing bells blared above the chatter and shouts of hundreds of the Union's richest and most fashionable citizens. The smells of cooked pork and cannabis smoke drifted by as a pair of beautiful female contortionists tangled their nude bodies around each other on a raised central platform.

  “Investigator,” a voice said to his side.

  Tshilidzi took his eyes from the contortionists and smiled at a black-haired pale woman with bright green eyes. She wore a tight black leather suit and spiked heels.

  “Investigator Tshilidzi Dumi,” he said. “You must be?”

  “They're amazing aren't they? Quite arousing, wouldn't you agree?”

  “Distracting, maybe.”

  The woman laughed. “Distraction is our business. They always bring to mind a complicated knot for me,” she said. “Working out whose leg belongs to which body is part of the fun.”

  Tshilidzi looked around in wonder as he followed the woman through the crowds to a guarded area. “I'm sorry,” said Tshilidzi, “I don't think I caught your name.”

  “You didn't catch my name because I didn't tell you my name,” the woman said. “But you can call me D'lahal.”

  They passed an obese man dressed in layers of black leather with a long leather cape trailing for two metres behind him. He was draped by a pair of chiselled nude men as he played a game of Flip. “Who's he?” Tshilidzi whispered.

  “He owns the cow monopoly,” D'lahal said with a dismissive tone.

  Tshilidzi's eyes widened. “Noram Krocop? The Noram Krocop?”

  “Have you ever worn real leather?” D'lahal asked.

  “Not real leather, no.”

  “It's absolutely luxurious. Do you like my suit? Do you like how it clings to me like a second skin?”

  “Yes.” Tshilidzi felt his face flush. “I mean, I've never worn—”

  “And the meat! I assume you wouldn't have tasted beef before?”

  “I haven't, but I hear it's delicious,” he said.

  “Absolutely mind-blowing. Decadent, expensive, completely wonderful.”

  “I'd love to try it.”

  “Through here.”

  Tshilidzi followed D'lahal through a concealed door and exited the casino floor and along a carpeted corridor adorned with shimmering abstract image
s. They continued through a series of double doors, through the kitchens.

  D'lahal placed her face in front of the scanner and waited as the reinforced security door hissed open. “Here we are,” she said, pulling aside a sliding wall, unveiling the mining drone.

  Tshilidzi examined the mantis-like drone for several minutes, writing observations and muttering to himself as D'lahal looked on with air of bored amusement. He squinted at the burnt-out communicator and the drill bit still encrusted with blood.

  “I've seen the images of these drones,” he said. “But nothing compares to seeing one before you.”

  “Once your investigation is complete, we should like to make this into an exhibit - a museum piece if you will,” said D'lahal.

  “An exhibit?”

  “Obviously, we'll have to clean it up a bit first,” mused D'lahal, “but I think it's quite striking, don't you?”

  “Striking is certainly one word for it,” he muttered as he worked a scanner over the drone's surface. He scratched his head while cursing under his breath.

  The pair stood in silence.

  “I've seen enough here,” he sighed eventually. “Where did she die?”

  “This way.”

  Tshilidzi followed as D'lahal led him out of the security door and took a right turn to the trade docks. After thirty metres she stopped. “Here we are,” she said, pointing to an indistinct area of concrete. “Security found Yao Chin here. You'll have seen the images they sent?”

  Tshilidzi nodded and scanned the area. The red light revealed where the pool of blood had been, with streaks and swirls denoting where it had been cleaned. “I've seen all I need to,” he said.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” asked D'lahal.

  “No, but I found what I expected.”

  D'lahal raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Nothing I didn't already know.”

  Briefing Room, Secretarial Palace, Insularum 1, Lunar

  Akira was restless - Takeshi was late for another media briefing. She examined her stubby fingernails and sighed.

  “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

  At that moment, two of Takeshi's personal guards entered the room, dressed in black uniforms. They checked over each reporter until they came to Akira. Placing her hands behind her head, she cringed as the taller guard patted down her arms and legs while the shorter guard rifled through her bag. The security checks never used to be this bad.

  Flanked by a third guard, Takeshi entered through a door behind a raised platform at the front of the room and took his place behind a lectern. He leaned forward and eyed the gathered reporters.

  “Hayao Kurosawa was a traitor,” he said. “I had no choice but to hand down his sentence.”

  A young reporter sitting on the second row in front of Akira cleared his throat. “I have to say Mister Secretary; you don't exactly look as though you've been the victim of a serious attack. Where were you hit exactly?”

  Takeshi smiled. “Ah, Kenji Miyazaki, I knew you father very well before he was sentenced. Perhaps the son is like his father?”

  Akira bit her lip as Kenji squirmed in his seat.

  “Luckily, Muedin has some fine medics here on Lunar,” Takeshi said. “But Hayao Kurosawa assaulted the Lunar Secretary and the head of United Solar because he did not agree with the will of the Assembly.

  “Be assured, this was not just an act of aggression against me personally, this was an attack on all of us, all of our values, an attack on our security, an attack on our way of life.”

  The smile returned to Takeshi's face. “I'm a big boy, if it was my decision I would have let Hayao go free with a reprimand—”

  “But it was your decision,” stammered Kenji.

  “No,” said Takeshi, slamming a fist down on the lectern. “It wasn't my decision. As Lunar Secretary, I have to detach myself from my own priorities, my own relationships and put the interests of the Union and its Affiliates first.”

  Takeshi frowned as he adjusted his collar. “Hayao was a good friend - perhaps my best friend. But what message does it send out to our citizens if a friend of the Secretary is above the Judiciary? Nobody is above the law - not Hayao, not even me.”

  Akira smirked and looked down at her notes as Takeshi glared at her for a long moment.

  “Is something amusing, Madam Yamamoto?”

  Akira shook her head. “Sorry, Mister Secretary, but—” she paused, “—you talk about the will of the Assembly, but it seems to a lot of observers and commentators that the recent vote on weapons was not the will of the Assembly, but was, on the contrary, an example of you and some Affiliates taking advantage of a power vacuum. I wouldn't want to use the word 'hypocrisy', but—”

  “I've had to answer a lot of useless questions from you over the years, but this is your most desperate. I wouldn’t want to use the word 'pathetic', but—” Takeshi smirked as he waved a dismissive hand. “You must realise we are under attack from the Purdah - we had no choice but to push forward legislation to defend our interests.”

  Akira licked her lips as she met Takeshi's glare. “One of your own Assembly members accused you at the time of orchestrating a - and I quote - 'a fucking stitch-up'. How do you respond to that accusation?”

  Takeshi gave a mirthless chuckle. “Let me tell you something. The day I start listening to Representative Efans is the day I quit being Secretary.”

  Takeshi looked around, adjusting his collar again. “I wasn't going to mention this point as I have a lot of respect and admiration for the Kurosawa family, but it emerged quite soon after my former Vice Secretary's sentencing that for a long time he had been colluding with the Purdah against United Solar. I am only glad that we took this traitor out of action before his true plans came to fruition.”

  Akira slumped in her seat as the other reporters wrote down Takeshi's allegations with fervour.

  Secretarial Palace, Insularum 1, Lunar

  Tshilidzi looked at the clock again as he paced another lap of the waiting area. An uncanny sensation washed over him as the four portraits of Lunar Secretary Takeshi Ozu hung on each wall seemed to follow him with their dark eyes.

  He walked over to a reception desk, leaning over a woman who ignored him. Tshilidzi cleared his throat. “Any word yet?”

  “Not yet,” the woman sighed. “As I've already explained Sir, the Secretary is a very busy man. We can have a message sent to the Judiciary if and when the Secretary can make himself available.”

  Tshilidzi turned, making as if to walk away, then turned back. “Let me ask you something,” he said.

  The woman looked up. She had a high ponytail and wore thick glasses. “About?”

  “Is this resistance to cooperating with a Judiciary investigation into multiple murders coming from you or from the Secretary?” Tshilidzi asked in a low whisper.

  The woman raised a drawn-on eyebrow. “I have already explained that the Secretary is a very busy man. As soon as we can arrange a meeting, we'll send a message to the Judiciary.” The woman pursed her lips. “I'm being as helpful as I can, Sir.”

  With narrowing eyes, Tshilidzi regarded the woman. “So this is coming from the Secretary,” he said.

  “I didn't say that Sir. The Secretary is in a meeting right now.”

  “So he is here, in this building?” Tshilidzi gestured around him. “At this moment?”

  The woman looked down.

  “I can wait,” Tshilidzi said.

  The woman looked up with a scowl. “I've been perfectly reasonable Sir. I'm going to ask you to leave now, or I will have no choice but to call security.”

  “You make sure Ozu gets the message that he can't duck me forever. No one is above the Judiciary - isn't that what he always says?”

  Offices of Lunar Chronicle, Insularum 2, Lunar

  Akira was surprised when Takeshi Ozu arrived on time. She dug into her bag for a notepad and listened. There was something about the Secretary's demeanour - his puffed-out chest and raised jaw - t
hat gave Akira the impression that this would be an important speech.

  Akira sat in the middle of the second row, adjusting her posture as the hard seat pushed against her back.

  “My fellow citizens,” Takeshi began, his face taut. “At this time, United Solar security forces are in the early stages of operations to bring an end to the growing unrest we have seen across our Union.

  “On my orders, security forces have begun striking selected targets of strategic importance to undermine the Purdah and its operations. These are the opening stages of what will be a broad and sustained campaign.”

  Akira's eyes widened as she turned to look along the row at the other reporters to gauge their reactions, but they were focused on the Secretary; unreadable.

  “Affiliates of United Solar have given their crucial support to the creation of a specialised military force codenamed Molotok. The Molotok will produce, distribute and operate the weapons that are so necessary for our ongoing security. The first batches of these weapons have already been distributed to security officers in locations on Lunar and Mars. As Lunar Secretary, I will be personally overseeing the Molotok's operations and have instructed their chief officer Barton Joster to act as my interim Vice Secretary until such time an election can be held.

  “United Solar is unified in its duty to protect our citizens. This is why it is necessary for me to call on emergency executive powers to institute a Union-wide curfew and deploy Molotok officers across the Union until the current crisis is resolved.”

  Akira gasped. Placing her pen down, she pushed her spectacles up her nose and felt a rush of panic and confusion. She found herself unable to believe the words.

  “The security of our Union now depends on the brave officers of the Molotok. So I urge all citizens to support them in rooting out the Purdah wherever their presence is found and be assured that justice will be done.

  “In this battle, the Union faces an enemy that has no regard for stability, for trade, for morality.

  “Their leader Ajay Johal hides behind a veil of secrecy, of lies, of injustice. But let me be clear: justice will be done.