by M H Questus
Morcos nodded. “Yeah. It’ll fade, and the painkillers are pretty awesome, but I’ll be happy when they’re fully functional again.” She opened and closed both hands a few times, wincing as she did so. “I just kind of suspect that our recent stretch of excitement isn’t quite finished yet.”
They headed out of the Courageous and back into the drydock. The growing crowd of Free Mars supporters booed and hissed as the two officers got into the car.
“Okay, so why the Free Mars protesters,” Di Mercurio asked once the hover was underway. “What does St. Clair have to gain from them?”
Morcos shrugged. “Maybe a cover? An attempt to throw off anyone trying to track him down?”
“Or, alternatively, they actually are responsible and are trying to throw us off by chasing St. Clair.” Di Mercurio sighed, her small frame settling into the taxi’s cushioned seat. “Nothing is ever simple, eh boss?”
Morcos smiled sadly. “Nothing worthwhile, at least.”
“Hmmm?”
“Oh, something my mother used to say.” Morcos looked out the window wistfully. “She used to always say that nothing worthwhile was easy. Used to say it whenever I was giving her a hard time.”
“Sounds like good advice.” Di Mercurio smiled. “Was she in the Service?”
“Yeah.” Morcos nodded. “She used to fly a MkIII, just like the one we have now. I spent most of my childhood in one of those things. Most of my life, actually, before I made it to the Academy.”
Di Mercurio recoiled at Morcos’s statement, which made Morcos chuckle.
“Oh, I know. Taking a kid on missions in deep space, she must’ve been crazy, right?”
“I don’t want to judge, but…” Di Mercurio shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “It does sound dangerous.”
“Mom always said that it would be more dangerous to be anywhere else.” Morcos sighed. “I miss her. She was my rock. Always knew good from bad, justice from brutality, law from oppression. And she loved her work. Every day was a joy, she said, doing the right thing and protecting people from others trying to do the wrong things.”
“Sounds like quite a woman,” Di Mercurio said softly.
“Yeah, she was. She passed on about the same time I was accepted into Marshal Training.” Morcos smiled sadly. “Would be great to have her here. I’m sure she would’ve figured out who was responsible for all this a few days ago, rather than stumbling around in the dark getting shot at and mobbed by insane smugglers trying to get a bargain from a man that is a cross between a weapon merchant and a slaver.”
Di Mercurio chuckled softly. “I think she’d tell you what a great job you’ve been doing. And not to get into any fights on this trip because she thinks I’m awesome and you should be giving me a raise.”
Morcos laughed in response. “Nice try, Lucilla. But not today.”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask.”
The headquarters was every bit as imposing and spartan as the first time Morcos arrived on Scorpii. Cut straight from the rock of the asteroid, the facade was simple straight lines and functional windows, without an excess scrap of ornamentation to be found. Even the massive double doors were simple thick armoured glass, bearing only the words “Interplanetary Marshal Service” in bold, simple navy blue lettering.
Morcos and Di Mercurio strode in.
“Hello, Marshal. Deputy.” The desk sergeant, an old scarred man with an easy smile, greeted them as they entered. “Please apply your thumbprint before you head up, ma’am.”
Morcos raised an eyebrow as she thumbed the sensor extended by the sergeant. “New regulations?”
The sergeant smiled apologetically, bobbing his head a few times. “Aye. As a result of the explosion. St. Clair tightened up security a bit. Still wants it to be open enough for people to feel that they can approach us without issue, but at the same time being a bit more cautious about recording who comes in and why.” He nodded towards the archway past the doors. “The weapon detector is new too, obviously. Previously, the thought of anyone trying to attack a marshal’s office was unheard of. Few places in the ‘verse are as heavily armed and armoured as this place. But now… better safe and all that.”
Morcos nodded and smiled as Di Mercurio pressed her thumb onto the scanner. “Well, as long as it keeps everyone safe, sergeant. Keep up the good work!”
The sergeant smiled as the two women walked through the weapon scanner. Unsurprisingly, the device beeped warningly, but the sergeant chuckled as he waved them through. “Still haven’t figured out how to turn it off when officers go through! I’ll figure it out eventually. Somebody from the company was supposed to show up to give lessons to the desk staff, but apparently they got delayed back in Hollistan’s Star for a few days.”
Morcos nodded and the two continued towards the elevators. The bare hallway with equally spaced wooden doors on either side was small, wide enough for 3 to walk abreast if they touched shoulders, and had an imposing sense of weight behind it. The rock itself was dark and streaked with faint colouration and polished to an almost mirror sheen. It gave the impression of walking through a corridor in a giant block of granite, which Morcos supposed they more or less were.
They rode the elevator to the top floor, the doors silently sliding open to deposit them in front of St. Clair’s office and the nerve center of the Delta Sector marshals.
A young man smiled up at them as they approached. “Greetings, officers. Can I help you?”
“We’d like to speak with Jules Bellegarde, if possible,” Morcos said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. “Is he available?”
“You’re lucky you’re not looking for St. Clair himself,” the young officer said, tapping into his computer. “That man is booked solid for the next five years.”
“Heavy is the crown,” Morcos said, a memory surfacing momentarily before she pushed it back down. “But no, we just need his assistant. If he’s free.”
“I believe so, yes. He’s just down the corridor, first door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Morcos said, leading the way down the hallway. “Di Mercurio, you ever meet him?”
“Once, but he didn’t leave much of an impression.”
The door to Bellegarde’s office slid open soundlessly.
Jules Bellegarde, a slight man wearing elegant, thin-rimmed glasses, had his nose buried in stacks of datapads as the two women entered. He looked up and twitched slightly in surprise at them.
“Ah! Sorry, sorry…” he rapidly pushed aside a few datapads, smiling nervously at the officers. “My apologies! I wasn’t expecting… well, I wasn’t expecting anyone, really, but you least of all I suppose, Marshal!”
Morcos smiled politely. “No need to apologize, Deputy Bellegarde. We didn’t really expect to be here ourselves a little while ago.”
Bellegarde blinked at the two women for a few moments. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Morcos coughed softly to clear her throat.
“See, Jules, the thing is…” Morcos coughed again, trying to figure out a way to ask without appearing insane.
“Jules!” St. Clair’s booming voice made all three officers jump. There was a firm knock on the door, followed by it opening half a heartbeat later. “JUL… oh! Sorry!”
St. Clair, puffing slightly and ever so slightly flushed, paused as he took in the scene in the room. “I… uh… didn’t realize you had company, deputy. I hope I’m not interrupting?”
“I’m sorry sir, we were told you were busy,” Morcos said, trying to keep the tension out of her jaw.
St. Clair’s smile was grim. “Constantly. I have a delegation of Martian lawyers waiting down the hall that want to skin everyone wearing a uniform in a three lightyear radius. Progress on that case, Morcos?”
Morcos felt her stomach drop. St. Clair looked so earnest, his eyes gazing deep into her. He knew she suspected him, there was no way he could miss that, could he? She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came.
“We were actually hoping to
talk to Jules about that very issue, sir,” Di Mercurio said with a nod towards the confused assistant. “Just some chasing down paper trails, that sorta thing.”
“Ah well then, you have the best man in the sector for it.” St. Clair nodded once at Bellegarde. “I’ll leave this datapad for you here. Kindly get the information requested by tomorrow morning, if possible.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Bellegrade rubbed his lower lip with his left hand. “Those lawyers aren’t going to like waiting.”
“I insist. Give Morcos whatever help you can until at least tomorrow, if she needs it.” He saluted quickly and left the room.
“Paper trails?” Bellegarde asked, blinking up at the two officers.
“You have a minute to take a walk, Bellegarde?” Morcos asked, glancing at the closed door. “Won’t take long, but we could definitely use your input.”
Chapter 22: Coffee Confidential
They reached the first floor again swiftly. Bellegarde went out first, clearly still somewhat bewildered by the visit and St. Clair’s swift support of Morcos.
The sergeant apologized to both Morcos and Di Mercurio as they left and set off the weapon scanner again.
“Huh, I forgot to bring my sidearm.” Bellegarde said idly. “I rarely ever carry it anywhere other than the firing range these days. I don’t even think about it.”
Di Mercurio nodded. “It’s a different world for those inside headquarters and outside, near as I can tell.” She shrugged. “A week ago I would’ve been right there with you, Bellegarde. A year ago I wouldn’t be caught dead further than a meter from my rifle. Weird how times change.”
“You were in the Interplanetary Marines a year ago, Di Mercurio?” Bellegarde asked as they strode into a local coffee shop. The building had a steady trickle of clients, mostly office workers or administrative personnel from the Service.
“Yeah. Did a four-year tour.” She inspected the glowing screens that displayed the staggering array of coffees available, and selected one from the automated touchpad. “It’s a dangerous universe, that’s for sure. Was deployed in Beta for most of it, attached to a unit of ground-pounders.”
“Infantry?” Now it was Morcos’s turn to ask, as she settled on an iced beverage from the menu. “Your file didn’t mention that.”
“No sir.” Di Mercurio smiled, her eyes distant. “I was attached to a unit of infantry, but I myself was a pilot. Flew the big ol’ re-entry shuttles from low orbit to groundside. You ever been in a Roach? Either of you?”
Both Bellegarde and Morcos nodded.
Morcos spoke up first. “My grandfather owned one. Used to use it for short supply runs from the asteroid to the nearest station. Massive glass windows up front, felt like the thing lurched every three seconds, and if you took your hands off the controls for a moment it would drift left.”
Di Mercurio smiled in return. “That’s a Roach, alright. Impossible to kill, those things could take an insane amount of damage. We used to say that the Nines themselves couldn’t knock one out of the air.” Her eyes grew distant, remembering something. “Not true, of course. But they were rock solid, built to take abuse, and I was with a good group of soldiers. What about you, Bellegarde?”
They sat at a nearby table with their assorted drinks. Bellegarde shifted in his seat a few times. “I was… uh… I was in the infantry. A ‘ground-pounder’ as you say.” He sipped at his coffee and looked downwards. “It’s… uh… not something I’m proud of. Or like to talk about, actually. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
There was a short awkward pause as the three sipped their drinks. Morcos gave Bellegarde a long look. It wasn’t unheard of for ex-soldiers to not want to discuss their posts, but it wasn’t usual either. Bellegarde’s expression was one of carefully maintained neutrality, perhaps suppressing a painful memory.
“So, I assume you weren’t actually coming to ask me out for coffee, Marshal?” Bellegarde asked, setting his drink back down and looking at Morcos.
“We wanted to talk to you a little bit about something sensitive.” Morcos looked around the shop. It was almost completely empty, the automated machinery responsible for constructing the elaborate drinks softly hissing and whirling behind them doing an effective job at screening out their words from the patrons at the counter.
Bellegarde swallowed nervously and leaned in closer. “Yes?”
“See,” Morcos tried to find the words again. It was almost too absurd to voice out loud. “You’re familiar with Marshal Smith?”
“Well, we used to be friends. Close friends,” Bellegarde said with a nod. “She’s a good woman. She’s going to make a hell of a marshal if… when… she recovers.”
Morcos nodded. “She mentioned that the two of you had something of a history.”
“That might be overstating it a little. We dated for…” Bellegarde’s gaze grew distant. “Man, she would kill me for not remembering precisely. I’m going to say four or five months? We were both deputies for Marshal McMillan before Kristen transferred up the line.”
“Didn’t work out, obviously,” Di Mercurio said, finishing her coffee.
“No, it didn’t.” Bellegarde shrugged. “We both wanted different things. She wanted upward mobility and the opportunity to take the reins. I really just wanted to fade into the background. Still do, truth be told. I’m not much of a front-line kinda guy.”
There was a moment of silence. Bellegarde shook his head suddenly, a look of panic crossing it. “Marshal, you don’t think I had anything to do with hurting Kristen, do you?!”
“What?” Morcos blinked at Bellegarde for a moment.
“Just because she’s an old flame, from years ago…” Bellegarde blushed deeply. “I would never want to hurt her! I mean, I was happy when she got accepted to the academy!”
Morcos held up her hands. “Bellegarde, we don’t think you tried to kill Kristen.”
“Then why did you ask to talk to me?” Bellegarde swallowed nervously, eyes darting around the coffee shop.
Morcos shard a glance with Di Mercurio, who gave a small nod.
“I think that St. Clair may have had something to do with the bombing of the Judicator.”
The silence became uncomfortably long.
Bellegrade leaned back and let out a long, slow breath.
“Phew.” He shook his head. “I mean, that’s heavy, but wow. I mean…” His eyes narrowed in concentration, and then widened. “You’re joking, right?” He looked back and forth between the two women several times. “Seriously? St. Clair? Come on. There must be a mistake! The old man loves nothing more than justice and seeing it served. There’s no way…” Bellegarde shook his head violently. “No, no… I won’t believe it.”
Morcos nodded. “Look, I wouldn’t believe it either, but we have some evidence that points to the… possibility… of it being the case. Deputy Haley has a message on her datapad that seems to come straight from St. Clair, ordering her to approach Schnider herself.”
Bellegarde recoiled in surprise. “Really?” He rubbed his chin with his left hand. “Okay, but couldn’t that have been sent from a phony account?”
Morcos shook her head. “Kobayashi checked. It has an authentication stamp from one of St. Clair’s datapads. Not impossible to forge, of course, but pretty difficult. It would be easier to just get St. Clair’s datapad and use it without him knowing.”
“Or to steal it from his office,” Di Mercurio suggested. “He did leave one of them in your office when we came here. Maybe somebody just grabbed one?”
“Okay, but is that your only evidence?” Bellegarde said nervously. “I mean, it’s still pretty thin.”
“No, there’s more.” Morcos nodded. “Schnider, as he was attempting to escape, made reference to an unwillingness to speak with a member of the Service. I didn’t clue in at the time, but the indication is that he knew he was paid by somebody in the Marshal Service, and that he expected them to come after him to kill him.”
Di Mercurio nodded. “And the armo
ured car that held the sniper responsible for killing him? That came out of the Marshal Service’s own lockdown. It was a seized vehicle, and somebody with clout managed to sneak it out to be used in the attack. Doing that without leaving evidence behind means that it had to be somebody high up in the organization.”
Bellegarde leaned back and sipped his coffee for a moment.
“Okay. I can’t say I believe you, but it at least deserves my help.” He nodded and leaned forward. “What do you need me to do?”
Di Mercurio’s face broke into a grin, and Morcos smiled back.
“Excellent! See boss, I told you talking to Jules was the right call!” She gave Morcos a friendly punch on her shoulder.
“Yes you did.” She smiled at her deputy. “Okay Bellegarde, how can we get evidence on St. Clair’s activities? Can you see if he left a trail that we can use to convince somebody to arrest him?”
Bellegarde pursed his lips as he thought. “Tough to say. The old man has always been fastidious and careful. Unlikely he’ll have slipped up and left anything obvious. Can you give me a few weeks?”
“Weeks!?” Morcos shook her head emphatically. “I can barely give you a day!”
“Almost impossible, then.” Bellegarde shrugged helplessly. “These things take time under the best of circumstances. Getting all the required paperwork, without St. Clair becoming aware of it, and making sure that the evidence is solid enough to bring to a judge? In a couple days? Forget about it.”
“What if we helped?” Morcos inquired, leaning back and crossing her arms. “I have three deputies. Heck, I may have four if we’re desperate enough. I think I can trust Haley on something like this as long as she’s not armed.” Morcos looked around the empty coffee shop. “It might take you weeks to dig up what a group of us can track down in hours.”
Bellegarde shook his head. “Too risky. St. Clair would become aware of what we were trying to do and shut you down. We have to be subtle, or this is going to blow up in your face.”
Morcos shook her head. “Worst case scenario, St. Clair finds out and sends people to shut us down, we’ve still got time before they get set up and arrive at the Courageous, and even there we can stall them for a few more hours. Cracking into an Interplanetary starship isn’t an easy thing, especially a Marshal ship designed specifically to keep the people inside safe and the people outside… well, outside.”
