by S F Chapman
“It won’t do much good, I’m sorry to say,” the officer shook his head, “she’ll be serving swill here again by Happy Hour.”
“I’m counting on that,” Ryo rubbed his aching shoulder, “hopefully the word will get out that the Inquisitor's Office isn’t screwing around in this matter.”
• • •
Hours later, after finally getting through to Free City, Ryo recounted the interrogation at the Dublin Lockup to Helga.
“You were right, Boss,” a dull throbbing headache reminded him of the harrowing day, “Mr. Korbus just received ten thousand Units from two pirates as a payoff for destroying the lunar orbit traffic records for the day of the blast.”
“Pirates?” Helga stared broodingly at him from the screen. “Why would pirates risk capture to wipe out some routine administrative records? I’ll have Jackson check on the traffic data in the morning. Were the Dublin Authorities able to extract the names of the guys?”
“Yes,” Ryo was still uneasy about the grilling techniques used by the locals, “Olin Gristle and Bosco Kremerling. Apparently Korbus was cellmates with Kremerling in the Outer Reaches Penitentiary. I have no idea about Gristle.”
“OK, I expect you and your two assistants back here sometime tomorrow.”
11. News Item: Bold hijacking near Saturn Dateline: 11th of June, 2445; Io Research Station, The Asteroid Belt and Jupiter Colonies
Reports continue to filter in to the Io Research Station about the unprecedented and bold hijacking of the immense robotic space tanker Xenon Lightning 54 as it crossed the orbit of Saturn en route to the huge Kuiper Gas Refinement Facility yesterday.
Refinement Facility Officials noted that the unarmed Xenon Lightning 54 is currently the most valuable vessel ever seized by outlaws, worth an astonishing 3.5 trillion Standard Units.
Imperial Warlord Dimitri Verhovnyi denounced the brazen crime from the Outer Reaches Palace on Titan this morning.
Io Research Station Astronomers have been unable to detect the telltale ion trails from the missing craft, leading some to speculate that the pirates may have covered their escape by towing the stolen vessel rather than operating its monstrous ion drive engines.
As of this morning, no ransom demands have been received by Refinement Facility Officials. Warlord Syndicate Underwriters have warned that they will pay no more than the customary ransom of 1.75 million Standard Units to recover the vessel.
There are currently no clues as to the location of the mammoth tanker or the identities of the hijackers.
12. Free City University Keira stopped and stared down yet another long nondescript corridor. “Why are we wandering around Free City University today?” she asked Ryo with some annoyance.
“Well,” the old Investigator rubbed his chin for several seconds before pointing down the hallway to the left, “Lev seems to think that even though the lunar traffic control information was destroyed, we may still be able to discover something about what happened on the day of the blast.”
“Why would the University have that information?”
Ryo shook his head, “I have no idea, but the case has been stalled since we got back from Dublin over a week ago, so any leads would help.”
Keira tugged on his arm, “Are you sure we’re on the right floor? I swear that we’ve gone past this same spot at least once before.”
“He said door 1272 in the basement of the School of Advanced Physics, so it could be anywhere around here. Let’s go down a floor and see what we can find.”
Seventeen minutes later, after following the instructions provided by an unenthusiastic janitor on Sub Level 5, Keira pointed to the long-sought portal in weary victory.
Ryo tapped perfunctorily on the door before pushing it open.
It was a dark office of some sort. Weirdly shimmering light spilled from a large video display that took up most of a worktable on the left side of the room.
The dark silhouette huddled in front of the screen turned to scrutinize the new arrivals.
“Great, you found it; come on in,” Lev stood and beckoned them to the table.
“You have an office?” Keira asked as she shuffled carefully into the dark room.
Lev pulled up two more chairs, “It’s nothing special, just one of the many doctoral workstations.”
Keira slumped onto a chair.
Ryo studied the screen. “What have you got for us?”
Lev sat next to the woman, “After you told me that the guy that we captured in Dublin erased all of the lunar orbit traffic records around the time of the explosion, I spent a few days trying to figure out another way of discovering what went on at the site.”
He pointed to the slowly shifting images on the screen, “It turns out that the University Astronomy Department has five different satellites orbiting the moon right now for various student projects.”
“How does that help us?” Keira asked.
“I found out that one of the satellites is just an old cosmic ray detector, so that’s worthless to us; but at least two of the others are used by Professor Hendley's Moon Surveying class. We might be lucky enough to find some images of the Sea of Crisis around the time of the blast.”
“OH!” Ryo patted Lev’s shoulder, “Nice job!”
“I suspect it’s going to take awhile,” Lev warned, “all of the video is raw footage without searchable timeframes.”
Ryo nodded, “You two work on this and I’ll be back by lunch time.”
Just before he pushed open the door to leave, Ryo glanced back at the two seating together in front of the monitor, “I’ve got a hunch that I want to check out.”
• • •
Ryo traveled across the drizzly Quad to the soaring edifice that housed the School of Biology. He had been to this building several times before and wouldn’t have any problem finding the proper room.
Compared to the arcane and forbidding School of Advanced Physics basement, the towering Life Sciences Complex was cheery and well lit. Ryo slipped into the bustling Department of Advanced Applied Molecular Biology Office on the twelfth floor. A half dozen energetic students were fluttering merrily about between some sort of group project involving green algae and a jovial middle-aged man in the center of the room.
The din was quite extraordinary in the overfilled office. Ryo navigated past the young scholars to the big man.
The gentleman’s face broadened into a wide grin, “Ryo Trop, damn good to see you!”
“Professor,” Ryo bowed slightly, “I’m looking for Zmuda. Can you help me out?”
Just as the Investigator had expected, the good-natured teacher’s demeanor turned solemn.
The professor glanced at his busy charges, “Come with me.” Before they departed he raised his hands high like a country preacher and shouted to the throng, “Keep working! You’re doing great!”
The academic unlocked a nondescript door in the back of the room and led Ryo into a small inner office staffed by a muscular red-bearded man and a petite raven-skinned woman. The two looked up in unison from their paperwork.
“Carry on,” the professor nodded to the workers, “we’re just passing through.” He opened a closet door and slid several coats aside before prying open a well-disguised rear door.
The man stepped through the portal and beckoned Ryo to follow him.
“Welcome to the CRAMP Operations Central Headquarters. To the outside world I’m Professor Malcolm Evans, in here I’m called Lieutenant Zmuda.”
“Lieutenant?” Ryo laughed, “The last time I saw you it was Sergeant.”
Zmuda shrugged, “I gave myself a promotion.”
Ryo studied the spacious and well-organized situation room, “It’s been awhile since I’ve needed your encyclopedic knowledge of the clandestine and I seem to have forgotten what CRAMP stands for, although it does come up periodically at the Inquisitor's Office.”
“Combat Ready Advanced Mission Personnel. As you may recall, we’re a group of concerned citizens of Free City, mostly
academics and scientists with a few paramilitarists thrown in, determined to return all of humanity to the high ideals of the past.”
“Who are those two in the other room?” Ryo wondered.
“Jasper and Mixion? They’re part of the CRAMP. I used an unusual new procedure to clone them as adults in the Advanced Biology lab about a year ago from some genetic information that I found in a really old database.”
Ryo was perplexed, “There are plenty of human clones in Free City, myself included, why fiddle around with old stock?”
Zmuda smiled, “Their DNA isn’t registered anywhere. If they happen to lose a toenail clipping or maybe an eyelash or two while carrying out a covert operation, no Investigator would ever be able to track them down.”
Ryo chuckled, “So you’re making my job harder?”
“Not really, none of our especially nasty projects are in Free City. Right now the good stuff involves insurrection and resource reallocation in the fiefdoms.
The old Investigator laughed, “Technically the Inquisitor's Office regards the CRAMP Operation as subversive, not insurrectionist.” Ryo loved the lively back and forth with his cloak-and-dagger friend, “The difference centers around the presumption that you hold antiestablishment views but you haven’t killed anyone yet.”
“Oh but we have Mr. Trop. CRAMP Operatives did in Madame Kufuzu at the Trade Conference in New Rome less than a month ago.”
“Why would you guys bother knocking off one of the many wives of the Warlord of EurAfrica?”
Lieutenant Zmuda smiled fiendishly, “Daniel Kufuzu is absurdly well-protected and we need some of his DNA for a cleaver little assassination effort that the CRAMP is putting together. So we bumped off his wife and collected some residual samples from her corpse. I’ve got the specimens in the lab right now.”
“Do I really want to know the details?” Ryo asked half jokingly.
Zmuda’s eyebrows arched up, “I’ll tell you anyhow as part of this proposed bargain: I’ll supply you with whatever information that you came looking for today and you will let me know if anyone in the Inquisitor's Office pins Madame Kufuzu’s untimely death on the CRAMP.”
Ryo thought for several seconds about the ramifications of the deal, “OK, I’m in.”
“Excellent;” a smug smile crossed his face, “my colleagues and I are developing something that we call the x-pathogen, which shows promise in infecting only a single individual with deadly results. It’s still very crude, but we hope to use it or something like it to eventually end the current feudal system and allow all humans to live freely again.”
“Lofty goals,” Ryo nodded. “Tell me about pirates, particularly anything that you might know about two characters named Olin Gristle and Bosco Kremerling.”
“Why is it that pirates always end up with the best names?” Zmuda scratched his head for several seconds, “I’m not familiar with either of those two, but it’s been a few years since I’ve done any field work in the Asteroid Belt where they all seem to congregate.”
Ryo slouched in defeat.
“Why the interest in these two low lives?”
“They paid off a Lunar Traffic Controller to destroy some records on the day that the Ultra Energy Lab was obliterated.”
“Dr. Fesai was a dear friend of mine,” Zmuda winced. “I have a strange feeling that Daniel Kufuzu or perhaps his step brother Dimitri Verhovnyi are involved with these pirates due to their past misdeeds with some of the roving marauders.”
“Alright, I’ll look into that,” the Investigator smiled.
After several minutes of light banter, Ryo followed the big man back into the student-filled main office. He watched with quiet amusement as Lieutenant Zmuda returned to his alternate persona as Professor Malcolm Evans.
“Ah, you’ve done a fabulous job!”
As Ryo slogged back between the two Science buildings, he mentally manipulated the scraps of information that the Lieutenant had supplied to him. Why would either of the Warlords that Zmuda mentioned be connected to the destruction of the Ultra Energy Lab that was funded by the Warlord Syndicate of which they were both members?
Still deep in thought, Ryo pushed open the door to the dim Physics Department workroom where he had left his cohorts. In the stark light of the desktop display, he spotted Keira hastily pull her hand away from Lev’s.
The two dallying detectives turned in unison towards him, a monochrome lunar image stood frozen on the desktop screen.
“What did you two find?”
Keira sheepishly shifted her chair away from Lev’s and gestured for Ryo to join them.
The old Investigator examined the still photo of a colossal smooth charcoal-gray crater depressed in the center of mottled slate and silver-colored highlands. Dozens of smaller dimples pockmarked the surrounding surface.
Lev’s finger traced the huge lunar basin; “This is the Sea of Crisis about 27 minutes before the explosion.” He pointed to an incongruous beige rectangle on one side of the depression, “Here’s the Ultra Energy Lab, or at least the part that’s above the surface.”
Ryo frowned at the image, “That’s not much help.”
“From this high up, you can’t pick out any details,” Keira noted, “but the picture quality is good enough that we can zoom in to a resolution of about ten square centimeters.”
Lev brushed the toolbar and the beige rectangle grew to fill most of the screen. A strangely out of place black speck was perched on one corner of the massive structure.
“What’s that thing?” Ryo wondered.
Lev manipulated the controls until the dark anomaly occupied the entire display.
“We were looking at this earlier,” Keira tilted her head to the side, “it’s some sort of unusual spacecraft.”
Ryo nodded slowly, “I think that’s an Ore Runner, although it doesn’t look anything like the Lunar variant.” He pondered it for nearly a minute. “I’ve got an idea that might pan out for us. Lev, send this image off for me.”
The young man slid his fingers over the toolbar, “Where to?”
The older man leaned forward and entered the address of the Vessel Registry Bureau, “Inspector Ryo Trop, ID 783682. Identify craft and detail current status and location.”
Several seconds later the stark lunar image was replaced by a crisp registration photo of the spacecraft in dry-dock. A long scrolling description filled the bottom of the screen: Vessel identified as the Butin Belle. Special Midget Ore Runner Class 37a. Construction completed on 13th of November 2429 at the Vesta Ship Works. Currently registered to Celestial Delivery Systems, Mariner Station, Mars. Hijacked by unknown individuals on 12th of February, 2445. Present location unknown.
“Pirates again,” Ryo muttered.
Keira looked up at him, “What does Butin Belle mean?”
Ryo shook his head, “I don’t know; it’s French, I think.”
“Beautiful loot,” Lev chuckled.
13. Titan Palace Saturn was slowly rising above the horizon.
Dimitri Verhovnyi stared through one of the many thick plate glass windows of the palace at the shimmering sliver of the monstrous gas giant as it grew ever-larger. Soon the stupendous rings would edge into view and the majestic planet would gradually shift from a glowering red to a more pleasing pinkish-orange as it climbed higher to dominate the hazy sky of Titan.
At around nine and a half times further from the Sun than the Earth, Saturn was a far brighter and more imposing presence on the huge moon than the distant and unremarkable yellow star over 1.4 billion kilometers away at the center of the Solar System.
Somewhere out there in the vastness were the imbeciles that he had engaged to carry out his schemes.
Pirates, Dimitri scornfully noted, were not known for following instructions and his two bands of marauders were no exception.
After weeks of trying, the Kuiper Belt Shipjacks had finally managed to commandeer an unarmed and unmanned space tanker that he intended to use as a base for his secret operations.
To avoid detection, it was now creeping slowly towards the Asteroid Belt. Gristle’s Raiders had acquired the materials and skilled laborers that he would need from the Moon but not without using far too much force and explosives for what should have been a stealthy undertaking.
Now the Free City Inquisitor's Office was snooping about for the cause of the blast.
“Idiots!”
The great ringed planet took up most of the eastern sky now. A jagged bluish electrical storm swirled sinisterly around the southern pole.
A knock at the door interrupted his fretting. His eleven-year-old parlormaid peered leerily into the suite.
The girl was one of his many household scrubs; in a year or two, he’d profit nicely by selling her off to the Sex Slavers.
“Excuse me Master,” she bowed nervously, “I have your breakfast, if it pleases you now.”
“Yes,” he growled tersely, “bring it in.”
The little wretch set the tray of food on his dining table and hurried off.
Dimitri watched the girl leave, she was obviously afraid of him, he had a well-deserved reputation that he had cultivated over many years for brawling fits of rage. But he had always treated his servants and slaves with cool detachment, especially the half dozen or so girls that made up the domestic staff.
He sat and consumed the meal.
His long dead mother, after all, had been forced into sex slavery. She’d been one of the many wives of Jonathan Kufuzu until she displeased the third Warlord of EurAfrica and was sold off as carnal fodder to Dimitri’s despicable father, Lord Pavel Verhovnyi. At forty-two years old, she unintentionally produced Pavel’s only child before killing herself on the lethal surface of Titan.
Unwelcome from birth, Dimitri was sent away as a baby to be raised by the subjugated drudges in the barely habitable selenium mines kilometers below the frozen surface of the massive moon of Saturn. As he grew up amongst the despondent and miscreant miners in the cold and dark labyrinths, Dimitri vowed vengeance against his father who had pompously declared himself the first Imperial Warlord of the Outer Reaches.
