by K. C. Sivils
City Of
Broken Lights
Hardboiled Noir From The Future
K. C. Sivils
KATY, TEXAS
Copyright © 2019 by K.C. Sivils
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
K.C. Sivils/Publishing Company Name
Katy, TX/77450
www.kcsivils.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
City of Broken Lights/ K.C. Sivils.—1st ed.
To the latest edition of our family, McKenna!
May she be a lover of books like her parents!
A dishonest man spreads strife,
and a whisperer separates close friends.
―Proverbs 16:28
Anything worthwhile accomplishing requires the help of others, this work of fiction included. I want to thank in particular Cheryl Deariso, Lynne Boone, Rachelle Steward, and Debbie Bailey, all of whom served as the Beta-readers for City of Broken Lights. Any and all mistakes in the story are mine.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter One
Turbulence shook the shuttle, bouncing the crew and passengers around. The pilot had long ago given up warning us about the turbulence. Everyone just wanted him to put the shuttle safely on the ground at the spaceport. A break in the turbulence allowed the shuttle ride to smooth out, giving me a chance to take a look out the window next to me.
Like Beta Prime, Athens II has twin moons, both of which filled the night sky with light reflected from their pale surfaces. Turning my attention to the city below, it became apparent why despite two full moons illuminating the sky it was so dark. We were flying over the industrial section of New Paris.
It wasn’t pretty.
Plumes of orange flame shot high into the sky; giving off thick clouds of black, soot-laden smoke. I adjusted the range of light I could see with my right eye and watched in infrared. The display was spectacular. Everywhere I looked I could see cracking towers heating up whatever natural resource the unit was designed to refine and breaking it down into useable components.
After living on the ice planet Beta Prime where heat energy was not wasted, it was both a beautiful display in the infrared spectrum and a troubling waste of energy. Another adjustment of my cybernetic eye and I could see the robots and human workers moving about the industrial plants as the shuttle passed over.
A jarring bounce slammed my nose into the window, causing me to lean away. As I rubbed my nose, I looked about the half-empty shuttle. Across the aisle to my right and one row ahead I could see the top of my friend Father Nathan's head. Having taken a sleeping pill at the first signs of turbulence, he was sound asleep as evidenced by how his head rolled from side-to-side, almost as if keeping time with the bouncing and jerking of the shuttle.
I can't say I blame the good Father. Turbulence reminded him of all the combat drops he made while in the Special Forces and later as a mercenary, a life he struggled every day to make amends for now that he was an Anglican priest.
As the throbbing in my nose lessened, I turned my attention to my partner, Sarah. She sat in her seat, knees pulled to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her shins. The flight attendant had given up long ago on getting Sarah to fasten her safety restraints. Sarah had pulled her long dark brown hair back, tucking it behind her ears, letting it hang down the back of her black leather greatcoat. I could hear a soft, rhythmic sound coming from Sarah’s seat, the result of her nervously tapping the heel of one of her boots on the frame of the seat.
An orange plume shot high in the sky, illuminating Sarah’s face. Her refined features looked perfect, the result of the combination of Alice, a mutual friend of ours, teaching Sarah how to apply make-up subtly and effectively, and the magnificent skill of the genetic engineer who had coded Sarah’s DNA.
My partner looked like a stunningly beautiful thirty-something-year-old woman. Chronologically, Sarah was seven years old, pushing eight, and at times acted her age. As annoying as Sarah was on occasion, I was well aware of how hard she struggled to deal with the challenges of being an engineered human.
The pilot's voice on the intercom interrupted my thoughts, announcing we were in the final approach to the spaceport and had received clearance to land. I watched Sarah relax and stand up. She grinned as she began poking Father Nathan in assorted places, trying to wake her priest up. It amazed me how the unsteady ride of the shuttle did not affect Sarah's ability to maintain her balance as she worked at irritating Father Nathan into wakefulness.
Sarah and I were on a leave of absence from the Intergalactic Alliance Police Force (IAPF) in Capital City where Sarah and I worked as contract investigative officers for the police force on Beta Prime. I had no doubt it was a shady deal on a good day, but that was often the norm when dealing with the corrupt Chief of Police on the planet Beta Prime, Chief Markeson.
Given our roles in eliminating a pair of serial killers turned terrorists and the ensuing investigation by the Alliance Internal Affairs Bureau, Markeson was happy for us to be off-world on a private job. His parting remark as I left his office was not to let the door hit me on the backside on my way out of the precinct.
Sarah and I usually dealt with divorce cases in our private practice. What awaited us on the surface below was something different. All I knew was the job paid big money, and the client would fill us in when we arrived.
It all added up to mean one thing.
The job was dangerous.
Chapter Two
As the flight smoothed out in the final approach, I was distracted again, this time by the sound of Sarah laughing at the now awake but grumpy Father Nathan. Delighted with herself, Sarah sat down in her seat and resumed the same position, knees to chest with arms around her shins. As quickly as Sarah had sat down, the happy expression on her face was g
one, replaced by the blank, emotionless mask she often wore.
My partner was an enigma at best. Beautiful and at times delightfully good company, Sarah could be petty, childish, and irritatingly immature, her favorite display of irritation being to stick her tongue out. Capable, intelligent, and determined to become a good detective, Sarah could be equally frustrating with her vague, unexplainable statements, made maddeningly more irritating when she was often right.
Sarah was a constant source of worry. Her life before I saved her from a predatory killer was troubled. Sarah’s very existence was illegal, clones having been banned after the Expansion Wars. Confinement was terrifying to her, resulting in a compulsive need to roam the streets and rooftops at night of our adopted home, Capital City.
More troubling was the fact Sarah trusted me. I was responsible for the death of her clone sister, Maria. I was also responsible for the incarceration of her surviving triplet, Ellie. When I had posed the opportunity to take a lucrative investigative job off-world Sarah's only question was when did we leave.
Stressed by the recovery work following the terrorist attack on our city, Father Nathan had asked if he could tag along. PTSD is a nasty thing. If I could help my friend by letting him take a break from the demands of his parish, it was the least I could do.
I looked out the window again, this time to see the ground rushing up to meet us as the shuttle pilot wiggled the craft from side-to-side, and the landing gear produced a roaring sound as it locked into place. Two hard bounces later and we were on the ground, speeding towards the spaceport.
With her chin resting on her knees, Sarah was watching me expectantly. From the look in her eyes, I knew something was worrying her.
DISGUSTED AT HAVING been called out in the middle of the night, the driver stood patiently beyond security in the baggage claim area. The flight board indicated the first shuttle from the spaceliner Europa had arrived. Most passengers had the decency to wait until daylight hours to make the shuttle flight from the space station in orbit above Athens II down to the spaceport in New Paris.
The message ordering him from a warm bed and the comforting arms of his ever-patient wife had been vague, simply commanding him to pick up three passengers from the Europa who would be arriving on a shuttle landing at approximately 0300 hours. The only name given was Sullivan.
Uncertain as to the status of the individuals he was responsible for picking up, the driver inspected his uniform again, brushing away imaginary lint from his shoulders before inspecting the condition of his boots.
Bored, the driver shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe for once these will be interesting people," he muttered to himself. The lone individual waiting for passengers to arrive, the man yawned, jumping at the sound of the baggage carousel starting, indicating both passengers and luggage would be coming in the next few minutes.
Reaching into his black uniform coat, he pulled out his tablet and thumbed the screen. The name Sullivan appeared as the driver turned the tablet around for anyone approaching the area to see.
“ARE YOU SURE WE DID the right thing?”
“What would you have me do?”
“They said they would kill her if we involved the police,” the woman sobbed fearfully.
“This is not the police. They will have no way to find out what we’ve done.”
“Sullivan is a cop,” the woman exclaimed. “They’ll kill her when they find out.”
“He’s not from Athens II,” the man snapped back. “Sullivan is the best there is. He’ll find her and kill the people responsible. There will be no way to trace this back to us.”
“Is that all you think about? Avoiding political and social embarrassment?”
“No! I want her alive, safe, and protected!”
“Then, please, just pay the money,” the woman begged.
The man closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He opened his eyes and embraced the distraught woman, holding her tight. “You know we can’t. They’ll kill her, just like the others.”
Looking up at the man, the woman smiled weakly and pulled from his embrace. Wiping the tears from her eyes, the woman sniffed twice, her expression devoid of the weakness so evident seconds before, replaced by a mask displaying a menacing degree of determination.
“Very well, then that is what we will do," the woman said firmly, apparently having made a decision. She smiled at the man and turned to leave. "I need to clean up and refresh my make-up before we meet this Sullivan of yours."
Stopping after taking several steps, the woman looked over her shoulder and scowled threateningly at the man. "You had better be right about this Inspector Sullivan." She paused to allow the tone of her voice to deliver the implied threat. "I will meet you downstairs, Ambassador."
Unamused, the man just shook his head in disgust at the woman. “As you wish, Chancellor.”
“THIS PLANET STINKS,” Sarah announced, not caring who heard her declaration.
Father Nathan chuckled at the remark, whether from Sarah’s innocent vocalization of her noticing the foul smell of the planet's atmosphere or the fact she just didn't care if she offended one of the locals.
I looked at Sarah is dismay. She just shrugged and wrinkled her nose up in disgust. “Can’t help it, Sully. The air on this planet stinks. They need to install pollution controls at the refining facilities.”
“It’s the heat and humidity, too,” Father Nathan volunteered.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sarah’s childish behavior. My concern was over the nature of the case we’d taken on, sight unseen and with no details other than the promise of a big payday, and all expenses paid if we successfully resolved the matter.
It was time to be on the job. My cop sense told me that much. If Sarah could take note of a smell I couldn’t in the filtered, recycled cool air of the spaceport, I needed to start using the senses I had that were as good or better than hers, namely, my cybernetic right eye.
As the three of us walked down the concourse towards security and the baggage claim area, I visually examined the facility. It was generally clean and well maintained, but a fine coat of grime was visible along the trim where the vaulted pre-fab ceiling joined the pre-fab walls. Stains from a variety of things over the decades the facility had been in use had covered the ceiling with a faint yellowish brown. I stopped and looked at my partner and my friend.
“Our mystery employer doesn’t want anyone to know we’re here.”
Sarah’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “How do you know, Sully?”
“We didn't book the flights or the shuttle pass. I'd bet this is the oldest spaceport in New Paris. The place is well maintained, but it's old. It's stained and dirty in places where it's hard to clean. Nobody has the pride to go to the trouble to clean the areas, like the trim up there." I pointed at the grimy trim.
“Our shuttle passes were for the middle of the night,” Father Nathan observed, nodding in agreement with my assessment.
“They sent us to the nasty part of New Paris,” Sarah added, replacing the wrinkles in her brow by wrinkling her nose again.
“Correct,” I replied. “As you’ve noted, everything is closed except for essential services. Nobody is here to see us arrive. I wouldn’t be surprised if the CCTV is off.”
All three of us looked at one another in silence.
"Now is the time to turn around and leave," I said, offering a chance for Sarah and Father Nathan to do the smart thing. "We can reimburse the party via the travel agent who handled everything. We haven't signed any agreement, and no money has changed hands."
I watched Father Nathan's face as he considered the matter. "I'm just along for a vacation and to bail you out of jail if necessary," the priest finally said. "I'm embarrassed to admit I'm also curious as to what the job is. Why all the secrecy?"
"This case stinks," Sarah said softly. "I don't like it." She looked me in the eye, watching me as she thought. "You want to do it. I know you do."
; “I didn’t ask what I thought. Say the word, Sarah, and we’ll be on the next shuttle and head for home on the Europa.”
She considered things for a bit more. “No. Everything is a risk. I know you, Sully. You’ll put Father Nathan and me on the Europa and stay. Where you go, I go,” Sarah informed me. I recognized the tone of the petulant child in her voice. There would be no arguing with her.
“If Sarah stays, I stay,” my friend added. “Somebody has to pray for your safety.”
Chapter Three
With a loud clanging noise, the antiquated luggage carousel started moving. The few other passengers who had made the shuttle ride down to Athens II stood to wait with us to pick up their luggage. In less than a minute the first piece of baggage appeared. Some five minutes later, our possessions in hand, we went through the do it yourself security checkpoint, scanning our luggage tags and passes, proving we were the owners while the luggage itself was scanned for bombs, weapons, and contraband.
Outside of security Father Nathan spotted a uniformed driver waiting. Dressed in the black uniform of a professional driver for the wealthy or a government official stood a bearded man holding a tablet with the name Sullivan displayed. As we approached, I recognized the man's face.
“Private Greg Morrison,” I said with caution. “Is that you?”
The man’s face broke into a smile. “Sarge? Is that you?”
Sarah and Father Nathan watched politely as one of my former S.P.s, and I caught up on times past, shaking hands vigorously and slapping each other on the back. After a moment, Father Nathan coughed loudly to get my attention.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” I said, taking the hint. “My partner, Sarah, and our friend Father Nathan. Greg here was one of the officers under my command in the Shore Patrol.”
Ever the diplomatic sort, Father Nathan broke into a big grin and shook Greg’s hand furiously while the former cop stared at his clerical collar. “Yeah, I know,” Father Nathan laughed. “It’s hard to believe it myself, Sully being friends with an Anglican priest.”
