And then something interesting happened: she went on the offensive.
“Do you really think someone murdered him?” she asked. “I thought he died on an EVA. It was an accident.”
“Someone cut his head and hands off. That person was trying to hide something.”
“What could that possibly achieve? We already knew Jimmy was dead.”
“He wasn’t trying to hide the identity. There must have been something else.”
She cocked her head. “But how do you know that?”
“There’s no other explanation.” I shrugged. “You see, this whole investigator rap is pretty easy. It’s simple deduction.”
“But you don’t actually know anything!” She glared at me. It seemed accusatory.
“No, but I know what it’s not.” I paused. “I also know someone attacked me yesterday.”
She suddenly seemed embarrassed by her outburst. “Yes, I heard. I can’t imagine anyone here being so violent.”
I frowned. “Even after Jimmy lost his head and hands?”
“I see where you’re going with that. But Jimmy was already dead.”
“So you think it was a prank too.”
“It’s a possibility. But I do know this: cutting a dead person’s head and hands off is a hell of a lot different than murder.”
She was taking the same line Manny had originally. She didn’t want to believe that there was a cold-blooded killer living on the same station as her. In a flash of insight, I suddenly realized why Lingly was behaving this way. She was scared. It was quite clear now. She didn’t want someone else in the lab with her.
I gingerly stepped over the debris on the floor and moved to the hatch. “I’ll catch whoever’s responsible for this, murder or no,” I said to her. “It’s only a matter of time.”
She remained silent as the hatch closed behind me. The chances of her being responsible for events on SOLEX seemed unlikely at best. Still, some people kept their inner demons closely guarded, suppressing them with tremendous willpower. Only in private did they emerge. No one, including colleagues and friends, ever knew about them, until the pain and hate and violence eclipsed everything else.
Then it was time to deal with them on their own terms: violently.
Chapter Nine
I spoke to Manny a little later and arranged to have common meals for the station’s personnel until the end of the investigation. I was worried the officers would be resistant to the notion; for them, dinners were a special time of the day to unwind and debrief away from the sometimes critical and prying eyes of the crew. It was a chance to meet with one’s peers and discuss the day’s events in a more relaxed environment.
Manny responded to my request with an odd look on his face. “Why?”
“I want to keep everyone together as much as possible,” I explained, “to watch people interact. I want to understand this place.”
He seemed skeptical. “The scientists too? When do you want to start?”
“Two hours from now. Lunch.”
He nodded. “Very well.” He walked away and a minute later made the announcement over the communit.
* * *
The vacsuit Jimmy had worn during the EVA was the only physical evidence I had. When a break between interviews presented itself, I decided to examine it and look for any sign of foul play. I popped into Malichauk’s office and asked where I could find it.
His forehead creased. “We cut it off him here. I threw it to the side. I think someone took it away.”
“Who were the crewmen here?”
He scratched his thick head of black hair. “Bram O’Donnelly and Godfreid Grossman brought him in.”
I went down to the crew module but couldn’t find either of them. I rounded a corner on my way back to the command center and stumbled upon Anna Alvarez working on an exposed electrical panel. Cables and wires had spilled from it and lay in a jumble at her feet.
She looked up as I approached. “Hi, Lieutenant. I hope you found what you were looking for in the life-support module.”
“Not really, but thanks for taking me up there.”
She wiped her brow with a greasy forearm. “No problem. What else can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for O’Donnelly and Grossman.”
“You can find them in Module H. Storage. They’re going over inventory for Lieutenant Bertram.”
After thanking her with a nod—she’d actually been really helpful the day before—I marched to the storage cylinder.
I heard the two men twenty meters before I saw them.
“Do you think the goon will find anything?” a coarse voice rumbled. It was Grossman, the stocky crewman with beefy arms and handlebar mustache.
“Nah,” a second voice said. Bram O’Donnelly.
I skidded to a halt and listened with interest.
“He was lucky yesterday. Almost didn’t make it.”
“He’ll be with Jimmy before you know it. He won’t last long here.”
They stopped talking and I could hear them hauling crates around the cargo bay. I waited five more minutes before I entered. They looked up from a large piece of equipment and glared at me. An awkward silence ensued as the three of us stared at each other. Eventually, Grossman grunted. “What do you want?”
In the interests of the investigation, I decided to ignore his rudeness for the time being. I could’ve put him in the brig for it. “I’m looking for Jimmy’s vacsuit. The one he was wearing when—”
“It’s in the air-lock staging area. Module G, the docking port. I put it back in his locker, thinking someone might want to repair it.”
I marched out without another word. Their conversation had been interesting, but they hadn’t really said anything important. Clearly nothing that would indicate guilt. I’d certainly keep my eyes on them, but unless they said or did something a lot more incriminating, it would be rash to act until I knew exactly what was going on. Something Grossman had said piqued my curiosity though: he had referred to Jimmy’s locker. Maybe I could find something of interest there other than the suit.
The air-lock staging area was well labeled and easy to find. A line of benches divided the room neatly in two, half helmets hung from hooks, and lockers stretched along an entire bulkhead, each clearly labeled. At Jimmy’s I threw the hatch aside and pulled out the crumpled vacsuit. In the lower back, far from where he could have patched it, was a rip four inches long. I fingered it absently. A knife or a sharp cutting tool hadn’t made it; it was too jagged. It was small enough to patch. It didn’t have any blood on the edges.
I pulled out my datachip reader and snapped a few pictures of the tear. Once finished with the suit, I examined the locker thoroughly. There were pictures of relatives and friends on the door, including three or four of the family dog. A baseball cap, a deck of cards and some old socks were the only other items.
He had been a pretty nondescript guy.
I sat on the bench that faced the row of lockers and considered what I had found. The suit suggested it had been an accident after all. But if so, why tamper with his body? Why try to kill the investigator? It still made little sense.
I stared at Jimmy’s locker for a long time.
* * *
The crew slept in a common cabin in Module E that was long and narrow and illuminated with rows of harsh fluorescent lights. Each crewman had his or her own private area equipped with a few shelves, a trunk for personal items, and a small wardrobe to hang clothing in. Jimmy’s bunk and space had been left untouched. After I learned that Malichauk had disposed of his body, I had been worried about Jimmy’s belongings. Thankfully, I saw a completely normal space with the label Chin stenciled on the edge of the bunk.
I spent an hour going through his things and found nothing out of the ordinary ex
cept for one item: a pair of night-vision glasses.
* * *
I can’t say it surprised me. In fact, I had predicted this very event: whoever had attacked me knew the glasses would incriminate him. In order to avoid detection, he’d ditched them where the blame could fall on someone else—in this case, a dead man.
And not only that, they had been wiped with disinfectant to remove any trace evidence. I could still smell it.
Clever indeed.
* * *
At noon I entered the common mess hall. The entire complement of SOLEX was present, including the scientists. I studied them silently, dismay setting in as I realized that they all sat with colleagues from their own sections.
The crew were together at the farthest table. Anna Alvarez, Bram O’Donnelly, Godfreid Grossman and Larry Balch spoke quietly, their heads bowed as if sharing a story they wanted kept secret. They couldn’t have looked more suspicious if they had tried. There were no smiles, just dull mutters in a distinctly annoyed tone.
The scientists were also together. Sally Johnson, Reggie Hamatsui, Ling Lee and Katrina Kyriakis were discussing the finer points of the sun’s electromagnetic field. Surprise, surprise.
At the third occupied table were the station’s officers: Manny Fredericks, Bel Bertram, Brick Kayle, Lars Malichauk and Shaheen Ramachandra. They looked up and motioned for me to join them as I entered. I did, but immediately decided to sit with the crew at dinner and with the scientists at the meal after that. I wanted to get to know all of them. I would also try to rotate seating arrangements as much as possible.
I scrutinized everyone. A bruised cheek, a black eye or a fat lip could easily give my assailant away. I was sure I had gotten a few solid hits in during the altercation. Unfortunately, the fight had left me gravely wounded. Otherwise I would have examined everyone immediately.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. It didn’t surprise me: a simple injection of priority nanos could easily fix any damage overnight. The knife wound to my liver was proof of that.
I ate lunch quietly and listened for anything unusual. There was nothing.
* * *
I returned to the life-support cylinder to reexamine the location in more detail. Anna’s story of the assault that Jimmy had witnessed seemed odd, to say the least, and after the same thing had happened to me, I knew I had to have another look. The fans that droned everywhere on the station were louder here, punctuated by the odd creak and strain of irregular heating on the station’s hull. I shot a look over my shoulder at one point, worried that someone was watching.
But when I looked, there was no one there. Just shadows. They twisted along the curved ceiling bulkhead and obscured access panels, ducts and pipes that led from the lower levels. The deck was a thick grate; I could barely see the equipment below due to the poor lighting. In fact, I could hardly see my hand in front of my face.
A couple of strong work lights, courtesy of Shaheen, helped immensely. I set them up around the carbon-dioxide scrubbers, got to my hands and knees and searched for anything out of the ordinary.
I found it almost immediately.
It was a dark, irregular spot the size of a peanut. Shadows from the scrubber had hidden it earlier, but it was easy to see now: dried blood on the thick steel grate of the deck. It was pure luck it had landed where it did. Some of it had probably dripped down through the openings to the lower levels.
After I snapped some photos from different angles, I used a razor to gingerly scrape the droplet from the deck. I cut it in half and placed each segment into a tiny evidence bag. A sense of satisfaction coursed through me; it was my biggest breakthrough since I had arrived.
* * *
In the clinic, Malichauk held one of the bags to the light and peered at its contents. The other bag was still in my pocket. “Blood?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“That’s what I want you to find out, Doc,” I said, “but keep it quiet.”
“Give me a couple hours.” He moved to a counter and fiddled with some medical equipment. “Could take some time. It looks old.”
I watched him silently and suppressed my immediate reaction. I didn’t want the personnel to be wary around me, but still, his lack of effort pissed me off. I departed before I said something I might regret. I needed his cooperation, not his anger.
* * *
I felt like the investigation was beginning to pick up steam until I interviewed O’Donnelly, Balch and Grossman, crewmen who all claimed to know nothing about Jimmy’s death. They were tight-lipped and uncooperative, but that didn’t necessarily imply guilt. A lot of people in the military, especially grunts, hated officers. They had their own way of seeing things and didn’t care what the ranking authorities said. So they grumbled one-word answers and didn’t offer any information unless asked.
First Officer Rickets was next. He knew Captain Fredericks had disobeyed regs, but hadn’t pushed him very hard about it. For the record, he told me, he felt guilty and in fact knew the CCF could hold him partially responsible if a tribunal ever occurred.
He seemed a decent sort. Very prim and proper, he answered my questions willingly with stiff military formality. He wanted to know what was going on as much as I did. He wanted Jimmy’s death put right.
Although technically he outranked me, I was here under the Council’s direct authority. That guaranteed all investigators the respect of a ranking officer, to ensure inquiries could continue unhindered.
“Avery,” I asked him in the officers’ mess, “did Jimmy Chin ever approach you about something he witnessed in the life-support module?”
He looked surprised. “You know, he did.”
I perked up immediately. “Really? What?”
“Something about two people having some sort of altercation. One grabbing another or something. I didn’t pay much attention.”
I frowned. This was odd. Like the captain, he had wavered when it came to protocol. But while Manny’s deviation from regs was visible—his playful banter with O’Donnelly was evidence of that—Avery’s outward behavior seemed to be proper in every regard. To ignore a reported assault didn’t seem consistent. “Why didn’t you deal with it?”
He shrugged. “It could have been anything. No one was hurt. I checked afterward. No complaints. Nothing.”
“Did you tell the captain or any of the officers?”
He grunted and glanced away. Didn’t respond to that.
The silence stretched out; he could feel me glaring at him.
“He was a good guy,” he said, fixing his eyes to mine. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
My scrutiny could put pressure on even the most competent of officers. I knew he could feel it now. “How is life on SOLEX?” I asked, switching gears. I’d let him stew for a bit on his disregard of regs and perhaps come back to it later. “Have you noticed any other problems here?”
He looked puzzled. “Such as?”
“Fights, arguments, that sort of thing. Escalating behavior of any sort.”
“No, not that I can think of. Just that one incident that Jimmy reported.”
“Do you like it here?”
That startled him. “Well...” He shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve served on some great vessels. War vessels, if you get my meaning. Doing important things. But this...it just seems so ordinary. I’m not sure why my superiors assigned me here.”
“Are you bored?”
He snorted. “Nah—that comes with the territory. I guess I’m just wondering who I pissed off to get this assignment.”
I thought for a minute before I made a sudden decision. “If it’s any consolation, your record is flawless. Nothing out of the ordinary. There are no complaints or reprimands. You’re probably just here for a short rotation
as part of your training. I get the sense that they’re grooming you for command.”
His face seemed to light up, his worry eased. “Thanks for saying that. I appreciate your candor.”
I finished the interview and sent him on his way. He was a genuine person, interested more in his career than in causing trouble. My gut instinct told me that he had nothing to do with this mess.
* * *
Shaheen and Bel Bertram had nothing new to offer. The lack of information in this case had grown frustrating. My initial optimism after finding the droplet of blood proved to be short-lived. I felt I could crack the case eventually, but timing was crucial. I couldn’t wait for another attempt on my life, or worse, on someone else’s.
In addition, the pressure Bryce had placed on me by mentioning that the Council was involved didn’t help matters. Interference of any sort is distracting, which is one of the reasons regs dictate that all others accord the investigator the respect of a ranking officer. The meddling of people trying to influence my decisions creates the worst kind of situation for a proper and unbiased investigation.
Another annoyance was the distance between the crew and the officers on the station. The lower ranks didn’t want to talk. So far Anna was the only one who had been of any real assistance.
But my interview with Brick Kayle shed some light on things.
I found him in his quarters reviewing the latest requests from the Command Group on Mercury. He didn’t seem pleased; I could see the stress and anger on his face as soon as I entered.
“These damn guys are always asking for reports on the scientists,” he said with a scowl. “I’m telling you, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
His official job was scientist liaison, but he was also the Council rep for the station. His duty was to be on the lookout for treasonous talk and dissidents. Freedom had mostly disappeared in our society, but in my eyes that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The old empire had been permissive and liberal; crime had soared and morals had all but disappeared. I had no problem with the Council strong-arming society, but a small minority did. It was possible that some people here had a grudge against Brick because of it.
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