QUANTUM MORTIS: A Man Disrupted

by Steve Rzasa

  “Very well.” The queen closed her eyes, no doubt talking to her own augments. Then she opened them again. “As a general rule, we do not permit constructs who have not taken a loyalty oath to the crown and cannot perform an act of submission to enter the Realm. It is too dangerous; a single enemy construct could wipe out the monarchy. However, these are highly unusual circumstances and your credentials are legitimate, so if you can assure me that your augments are loyal to the Duke of Rhysalan and are not in service to any exoplanetary agencies, I will accept a single passive link.”

  “Thank you, your Highness,” Hildy said. She glanced at Tower. “I think Baby would be the wiser option.”

  Wiser, safer, it was all the same. If Tower chose Victor over her, he’d never hear the end of it. “I concur.”

  Baby, you there?

  “That sneaky machine caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting a T-15 war-brain in this shabby dump! Sorry boss, it won’t happen again. He’s tricky, but I used that link to tie his circuits into knots. That’ll teach him! Now, what do you need?”

  Just record interviews for now… and don’t let the augment remember you!

  She flashed an image of a bear sitting on a toilet into his right eye. He laughed and took the point. Hildy was already asking questions of the Morchardese queen.

  “Your highness, did your son have any enemies here on Rhysalan? Was there anyone who you suspect would have had an interest in harming him?”

  “Enemies? Detector, my son had thousands of enemies who very badly wanted him dead. Perhaps even millions. He was the Crown Prince of Morchard, the symbol of the continuation of the planetary monarchy, and a living rebuke to the forces that forced us to flee our world!” Queen Beatrice’s voice hardened. “The usurpers who call themselves the Auroran Republic would pay anything to end the Morchardese royal line. They are without question the most likely candidates and they have an embassy here.”

  “Here in Trans Paradis?”

  “No,” the queen replied with undisguised bitterness. “As a recognized government, they are permitted an official embassy in the capital. After them, I would name the government of Valatesta, whom my eldest son defeated in a trade war ten years ago. One of the Tetrarch’s sons was killed in a space bombardment and he swore a public vow that all three of my sons would pay for his death in blood.”

  Tower was skeptical. Ten years was a long time for an angry and powerful man to wait to avenge a son, and perhaps more importantly, if Arpad’s death was a revenge-killing, he would have expected the Tetrarch to order his assassin to leave some indication of that. He spoke up before Hildy could ask her next question.

  “Was there any contact from the Tetrarch or any other Valatestan party today?”

  “No,” the queen shook her head. “No, there was not.”

  Hildy shot a silent question at him. Tower shrugged and explained his thoughts.

  “It’s probably not the Valatestan. If the hit was his, then he would have wanted you to know. If there is no contact from them in the next week or so, we can safely back-burner them. Who else is there?”

  “There are many who are seeking to curry favor with the usurpers. Corps seeking tax benefits, planets seeking trade agreements, individuals attempting to join the jackals and share in their spoils. The longer the crown is absent from Morchard, the more insects crawl out from under their rocks. We are watching them and we will not forget! But if it wasn’t the usurpers, then I believe the Unity is behind this. I have long feared it and no one will ever convince me that the Dawn are anything more than its Morchardese puppets. Without the Unity backing that gang of bandits and psychopaths, my husband would have crushed the rebellion.”

  “Has either the Unity or the Morchardese, ah, usurpers, made any attempts on your son’s life in the past?”

  The queen exchanged a glance with the guard captain, and the building AI relayed his answer to her.

  “Four, assuming that one does not count the rebellion itself. Arpad slew the man sent to kill him; the assassin was disguised as a bodyguard. He slit the man’s throat from ear to ear, then shot the assassin who was after his younger brother!” Her fierce pride in her late son was unmistakable. “But all four subsequent attempts were in the first two years. It has been quiet for some time now.”

  “Do you know who was responsible for the attempts?” Hildy said.

  “The first was the rebels. The second was a fool, a member of the household staff who thought to ingratiate himself with the new regime by bringing them the Crown Prince’s head. The other two were unknown, which is why I suspect the Unity.”

  “And why is that?”

  “The prince’s security team shot and killed the first assassin, the augment killed the other when he was attempting to infiltrate the Realm. DNA tests of their corpses determined that both men were Kwai Tao clones manufactured on Yama.”

  Tower whistled. “Someone wasn’t playing around.”

  “That was prior to the Weksler Accords three years ago. There was a minor sub-clause in which the Unity provided assurances that the heirs to the Morchardese throne would be left alone as long as all of them stayed here, on Rhysalan. They kept their word.”

  “But the Weksler Accords were abrogated six months ago!” Hildy interjected. “When House Sphorza invaded Nizhni-Rostov.

  “Exactly.” The queen nodded. “Neither we nor the usurpers were involved, so I hoped the Unity would continue to honor the spirit of the sub-clause, even if the overall accords were no longer in effect. But it appears that was a foolish hope.”

  Her voice trailed off. Tower was losing interest in the queen; the more he thought about the situation and the risk inherent in the prince’s situation, the more he was interested in learning where the prince’s security detail had been. That, it seemed to him, was more important than unraveling the undoubtedly complicated skein of relationships between the various members of the royal household. He cleared his throat to catch Hildy’s attention.

  “Do you mind if I tackle the staff while you continue with the family?”

  She did not, for which Tower was glad. He did not relish the idea of hounding an old woman about her son’s love life and he didn’t mind the idea of setting a few of these Morchardese quasi-clones straight on the matter of who was, and who was not, in charge here.

  What is the name of Orange Eyes there?

  “Prime Captain Bram Kotant. He is the head of security for the crown prince.”

  So he’s the screw-up, is he?

  “Prime Captain,” Tower addressed the huge guard with the staff. “The prince had a security detail, did he not?”

  The man stared coolly at him, and for a moment, Tower thought the Morchardese might ignore his question. “He did.”

  Tower spread his hands. “Then where were they?”

  “That is not information the Realm is prepared to divulge.”

  “Seriously?” Tower indicated the queen. “You don’t think she’ll tell you to tell me what you know if I ask?”

  “I know she won’t.” The guard smiled faintly; it was very nearly a smirk. “The Crown Prince left very clear orders that no information concerning his security or his location, past or present, was to be divulged. Even in the event of his death.”

  “But you have the location data from his tag in your core.”

  “No, sir. We were under long-standing orders from him to purge all such information on a daily basis. I personally gave the order to purge it at once when we received word that your vehicle was approaching the building.”

  “He’s probably not lying,” Baby informed him. “I don’t dare look too closely, but there are huge sectors of what looks like recently erased sectors.”

  “Why would you do that?” Tower didn’t know if he was more baffled or angry.

  “Because neither you nor the detector have any need of that information.”

  “How do you know that? Don’t you want us to catch whoever did this to your prince?”

  The guard
didn’t answer, he simply stared contemptuously at Tower with those eerie orange eyes. And suddenly, Tower realized that the Prime Captain didn’t want either MCID or TPPD to capture the killer: He intended for the Morchardese security forces to get there first. Only the man obviously had no intention of capturing anyone.

  He came to a quick decision and decided not to fight the inevitable. “Can you provide the detector with transportation back to the department when she is finished with the royal family?”

  “Of course, Mr. Tower.” The Prime Captain nodded graciously. “It would be our pleasure.”

  “Then please do so when she is finished,” Tower said, and turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. The guards were almost too surprised to step out of his way, and the Prime Captain had to scramble to catch up to him.

  “You are leaving, Mr. Tower?”

  “I am.” Tower didn’t say anything more until the Prime Captain had escorted him out to the parking launch. “Now, listen to me, Prime Captain. If you and your men don’t wish to cooperate, it’s no skin off my nose. But if you and your men think you’re going to start a private war on this planet, in this city, then you had better think again. Because as far as MCID is concerned, you bloody xenos can all kill each other to your heart’s content so long as you do it off-planet.”

  “We will do as honor requires,” the Prime Captain said. “And if there is a war, it is not one we sought nor is it one we started.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you, Prime Captain.” Tower shook his head. “The Duke don’t care who started what. MCID cares even less. We’re not the police and we don’t solve crimes. I’m warning you, Captain, if you bring war to Trans Paradis, no matter who started it, I’m the one who will end it. And if that means I have to end you and every orange-eyed bastard in this building in the process, then you can be certain that’s exactly what will happen. So, if you do manage to determine who was responsible on your own, I strongly suggest you contact Detector Hildreth and provide that information to her.”

  The Prime Captain stared down at Tower for a long moment. Although he didn’t appear to be impressed with Tower’s threats, he apparently wasn’t disposed to ignore them either. At last, he nodded.

  “I will take that under advisement, Mr. Tower. And then, I will do my duty. You, I am certain, will do the same.” He stepped back and the automatic doors slid shut, banishing Tower from the Realm.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Loss of Sanctuary Status: Criminal Conviction

  A Sanctuary contractee granted permanent residence can lose his residence status and be deported to his planet of origin if he is convicted of one or more felonies. The Immigration Office has some discretion to place the convicted criminal’s residence status on probation rather than remove it entirely, but its decision will be influenced by the seriousness of the xeno-resident’s criminal record. Capital crimes committed by Sanctuary contractees, including but not limited to insurrection, assassination, and murder, are the responsibility of the Military Crimes Investigation Division of His Grace’s Armed Forces.

  —from “Welcome to Rhysalan, A Guide to Your New Planetary Home”

  The next day, Tower returned to MCID-HQ, ensconced himself in his office, shut the door, and resigned himself to reviewing the pile of statements that Baby and Hildy had stacked up in his personal cloud. He leaned back in his chair and, not for the first time, wished that he didn’t have to share the space with three other MPs. Their office was about the same size as the major’s, with four desks, four chairs, and a couch suitable for two against the far wall. There were a few screens on the three walls plus a holo-projector mounted to the ceiling above his desk, just the standard office equipment. Everything was pallid grey and MCID dark blue. The screens displayed camviews of the base outside, as if they were windows. The cams were about thirty meters above the rooftop landing pad for the aerovars, and he could see the base traffic as it entered and exited in two distinct vertical flight paths. Beyond the edge of HQ, the screens provided a nice view of the High Market stretching out for six city blocks. When zoomed in, one could see the civilians milling about the walkways, three hundred stories off the ground.

  The immigration office had sent over complete entrance records for the Kingdom of Morchard’s mountain of staff: guards, aides, techs, servitors, nobles, cooks, pilots, soldiers, and more. Hildy had also sent him the regular roster schedules, so he set Baby to comparing the two and looking for potentially useful patterns, but he had no real hopes on that score. There was no reason to assume that on what turned out to be an unusual day, the regular schedule would have been in effect.

  Hildy had also given him access to the interviews she’d conducted after he left. He noted that the last interview wasn’t finished until 25:30 and wondered if she was upset with him or not. He summoned it and one Lieutenant Dieter Ten Hannis appeared as a face in the air over his desk, a ghostly holographic version of the young bodyguard Tower was questioning. “The Crown Prince did not say, officer. He gave me an express order to remain at the cafe until he returned or summoned me to him. No, this was not the first time he went off on his own.”

  “Did you notice anything different this time?” Hildy’s voice sounded tired. It had been her tenth interview and she was obviously flagging.

  “Yes, officer. He was agitated, perhaps even angry. The Crown Prince is, was, a gracious man for as long as I knew him. But this afternoon, there was something bothering him. Of course, he told me nothing and I did not ask. It was not my place.”

  Ten Hannis confirmed what the embassy logs reported: the prince took the lift to the street level in his company, something only those with a sufficiently high security clearance could do. He didn’t make use of a var, but walked to the nearby cafe where he told the guard to wait for him. From there, he disappeared from the digital records. Without access to the location data from his personal tag, once he moved out of range from the security scanners at the front of the building, he may as well have been a ghost.

  “No additional sightings of the prince reported at any cameras up or down the street, sir,” Baby said. In the office, and when they were alone, he preferred to hear her speak out loud. “Quarpods have been displaying his image to civilians in the area since early this morning but so far have been unable to identify any witnesses.”

  “There isn’t much commerce down there. A witness is unlikely.” Tower drummed his fingers on the desk. “The question is how did he get from the building to where he died? How long by var?”

  “Twelve point seven five decasecs.”

  “Run the taxis and private transport services. He had to get there somehow and he’s a royal. He didn’t walk.”

  “On it. This may take a while, though. Some of the private services are a bit less than forthcoming.”

  Tower dialed up a mocha in an attempt to kickstart his brain. Before it had cooled enough to drink, Baby spoke up sooner than he’d expected.

  “Victor just buzzed me and wants to know if you’re free to speak with Detector Hildreth. He says she’s been sorting through the profiles of all the embassy staff and is cross-checking their DNA with fragments taken at the scene.”

  Tower smiled. If she was calling him already, she couldn’t be too upset.

  Her image didn’t appear, only her voice, leading him to believe she was out in the field.

  “I can’t believe you abandoned me like that!”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” He laughed. “It was a good thing you passed on dinner or I might have left you with the check.”

  “Congratulations, you were officially my worst first date ever.”

  He laughed again. “I had no choice. That giant clone of a security captain made it clear he was going to stonewall us and I figured the royals would clam up if I shot him or hauled him in.”

  “Yeah, I figured it was something like that. Can you believe they deleted the tag data? Why on Earth would they do that?”

  “Think it was an internal hit?” That w
as the obvious explanation. “Maybe little brother decided he wanted to be king-in-exile. Or maybe the Crown Prince was practicing droit du royale with the girlfriend of the wrong guard. Did anything come up in your interviews?”

  “I sent them to you!”

  “Yes, and I’ve watched two, the queen and the guard who was with him that day. I’m asking about the other eight.”

  “Oh, sorry. I guess the main takeaway was that this crown prince doesn’t strike me as the smartest guy on the planet. Why risk going out in public without your bodyguards on a regular basis? He knew he was potentially being targeted. It practically screams ‘kill me!’”

  “Do we know if he was armed?”

  “Scanners showed no serious traces of metal and he didn’t have a permit, which he would have required as a xeno.”

  “He wasn’t expecting trouble. So, if it wasn’t a political hit and it’s not little brother, my guess is that there is a girl somewhere underneath all of this.”

  “You think?” She laughed. “What you soldier boys see may be different, but on this end, if it isn’t money, it’s usually women. And based on the Morchardese financial records, it wasn’t money. The royal house nearly stripped the planet naked when they left!”

  “Can’t blame the rebels for wanting them dead, in that case.”

  “Agreed. Anything on that side yet?”

  “Not much, other than a roster of all known Unity, Valatestan, and Auroran operatives presently on the planet.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Three hundred seventy two, fifty eight, and five, respectively.”

  “Ouch. Any here in TP?”

  “One hundred and eight definites. Another eighty five possibles.”