Let’s see what our buddy Ossuary has to say about cooperating.
“We’re not going to kill everyone. I hope we don’t have to execute anyone. Lead the perp away in cuffs for an all-expense paid trip to Jhiordaan, a place where they’ll never have to worry about money again. My goal is to make sure no one else gets killed.”
“That’s always been my goal, but damn, things have spiraled out of control!”
“How many times do I have to tell people that’s what I’m here for? We’ll get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. I can’t share any details during the investigation, but you’ll see what I’m doing. I’d appreciate your discretion.” She held out her hand, and he took it.
The super asking him to report. Guilt. Internal conflict. He doesn’t want to. No secrets, but secretive. Why?
The rush of emotions from the safety manager caught Rivka off-guard, but she weathered them without acknowledging that she knew.
“Shall we?” Rivka gestured for Boran to lead the way.
Lindy took a position next to the safety manager, while the Magistrate had her people both in front of and behind her. They walked through the corridors without talking, the only sound the heavy clump of the mech bringing up the rear.
It didn’t take long to reach the area where the construction superintendent and workforce administrator waited. Three large individuals brandishing oversized tools, along with cups of coffee, stood behind the administrator. The tension in the air was palpable.
Lindy took two steps forward and leveled her weapon. “You’ll want to put those tools down,” she advised. The armored warrior pounded into the space and hovered behind the Magistrate, his weaponry bristling.
The men looked at the spanners and hammer as if the tools had magically appeared in their hands. They immediately set them on the nearest table and muttered profuse apologies as they stepped away. Two of the men cradled their cups of coffee in two hands.
Putting distance between themselves, and Fleener, too.
The super crossed his arms and leaned casually against a desk.
“You have insight into my investigation?” Rivka asked, moving close to the administrator. He was the same height as the Magistrate and should have looked her in the eye, but he shriveled under her glare. “I asked for a private meeting, but you insisted on talking to me in public. Here I am.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he mumbled. “I don’t have any information that will be useful to your investigation.”
“Now you’re wasting my time, and bordering on obstruction. By wasting time not getting information from you, I’m not getting anything from anyone else, either. I can only assume you’re protecting someone. A murderer, for example.” She grabbed his arm, knowing what she was going to see in his mind.
It was all about him and his authority. He saw his power, not just shrinking, but disappearing. He was afraid to the point of being nearly incapacitated. His thoughts were a jumble of falling dominoes. None of them criminal. All of them shady.
“You are a pathetic human being,” Rivka said before pointing at a far corner. “Stand over there.”
He clenched his jaw and looked belligerent, but only for a moment. He caved and did as he was told.
“What do you three know?” Rivka asked. The best interrogations were done individually before comparing answers and learning who was lying. She didn’t have time for the normal approach.
She sighed as she found herself justifying using her gift to take a shortcut. Again. The men looked at each other in confusion.
“We’ve found in three instances that construction of the station has been modified to create deathtraps. We don’t know where the trigger was or who pulled it, but the workers who were killed had no chance. Like a fly beneath a swatter, their fates were sealed the second they stepped into the ambush. Do you know who or what could modify construction details as the station is being built?” Rivka explained.
“No,” one of the men replied, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m J.R., by the way. We work to detailed drawings. We requisition materials based on a list attached to the work package and then start putting things into place, doing the initial fit-up. The bots execute the final alignments, fit-ups, and welds once a living being turns them loose. The bots are the ones that perform the final construction, from torqueing bolts to welding seams.
“That’s what the construction plan says is supposed to happen, but it hasn’t been.”
“But it has!” another added quickly and defensively. He nodded as hard as the other had shaken his head. “We don’t do it any other way.”
The third looked at the ground. Rivka strolled up to him and tipped his head up by lifting his chin with one finger. “What do you know that’s being done differently?”
Images of the workforce conducting their own fit-ups, torqueing connectors, and even welding.
“You’re taking shortcuts,” she said matter-of-factly.
“The bots were taking too long to get to us. We needed to finish and move on!”
“What did you do, Finn?” the administrator demanded from the far side of the room. Rivka didn’t have to look at him. Lindy took care of it.
“You, shut up.” She pointed at him until he looked away.
“Did you do anything not to spec?” Rivka asked, still touching his face.
Vehement denial.
“It was better than spec!” He kicked at the deck. “Because we didn’t want anyone to know. No one can tell the difference.”
“I believe you,” Rivka told him. “Now describe what you mean by ‘better than spec.’”
“The quality control inspectors would never know the difference. We used auto-welders instead of the bots. Those pieces of equipment can be found hidden in a storage space on sub-level nine.” He hung his head in defeat.
Rivka casually checked her pad. Sub-level nine was outside the environmentally-contained sections. “Suit up. You’re going to retrieve that equipment, and Private Cole is going with you.”
“But ma’am!” Alant protested.
The Magistrate tapped the weapon she carried and nodded at Lindy. “I’ll be fine. Accompany Mister Finn to that welding equipment and bring it back to the hangar bay for inspection.”
The private held out an armored arm and motioned for the worker to lead the way. The two departed.
Rivka looked from one face to the next. “Superintendent Orbal, I need a space where I can conduct interviews.”
“How about right here?”
“Bring the inspectors to me. All of them, and hold them over there,” she pointed to a wide corridor, “until I can speak to them one at a time. No one is to talk. Hold them in silence. Can you do that?”
“I have Yollins and Ixtali security guards on the ship. I’ll bring them over, and we’ll take care of it.” The construction superintendent grabbed a terminal and immediately contacted the administration ship to issue the order. “They’ll be here in a half-hour.”
The workforce administrator started to walk forward, but Rivka stopped him with one finger. “I’ll need your assistance, if it is assistance you’re going to provide. If you step one toe over the line into obstruction, I will throw you in solitary confinement until I’ve completed my investigation. And if your pawprints are on anything related to the perp, you’ll be going on an all-expense paid trip to Jhiordaan. Do you understand?”
“Why would you let him participate if there’s any chance he was involved?” the super asked, twisting his face as he spoke. His disdain for the administrator was growing by the second.
“There’s a chance you’re involved, yet here you are.”
“But there isn’t,” Zack stammered. Rivka touched a finger to her nose. She knew something they didn’t. She’d hold them at bay until she could get a lead. Playing them off against each other seemed to be the best way to keep them busy and out of her way.
“Work it out. You two. Among yourselves. But first, get me those inspectors!”
&
nbsp; Chapter Seven
One of the finished spaces on the station provided the office and interrogation room. It was one level up from the area the safety manager called home. The area had been off-limits to the crews, getting closed when they were finished to keep it from getting cluttered or dirtied as the workforce got creative with storing construction materiel or places to relax between shifts. The inspectors would have gone through the space one last time with the construction superintendent before closing it off until the final acceptance walk-through with Federation authorities before they took possession of the completed station.
It would have to be inspected again, but the super believed there would be no final walk-through if the Magistrate didn’t get what she needed. Station workers sat idle, not getting paid, nerves raw from the speculation. Rivka hoped the administrator and super would put aside their differences long enough to keep the workforce from degenerating into open warfare while she pitted the two against each other.
She started to wonder about her strategy as the animosity grew between the two leaders.
The arrival of several older members of the crew interrupted her contemplation. They were dressed in dirty coveralls. Two were sweating, but not from nerves, from hard work.
“Are you still on the job?” Rivka asked.
“Of course,” the oldest replied, a purple-tinged humanoid with skin wrinkled like a raisin. “We work when the workforce isn’t.”
It sounded like a tagline for a commercial.
“But the workforce is not working because there is a suspected murderer running loose. That means no one works until we learn what is going on.” Rivka dug her knuckles into her hips in her dominance pose. The inspectors seemed unimpressed. One shrugged.
She shook her head and checked her pad for the list of names. She counted eight. Seven inspectors stood before her.
“We’re missing one. Is he night shift or something?”
No one answered. She pointed to the older alien, the one who had spoken before. “Where is he?”
“She’s finishing up one last inspection. She’ll be here right after that.”
“Boran, get her off the job now, please.”
An alarm sounded. Rivka’s eyes shot toward the ceiling, looking for the source of the sound as if the speaker would enlighten her on why it was going off. Her internal comm let her know a message was coming from Chaz.
Magistrate, there’s been another “accident.”
A female inspector? she asked.
Yes.
Send Cole to the accident site, please, in his armor.
“Lindy, you’re with me.” Rivka’s eyes focused on Mister Wrinkly Purple. “Take me to where she was inspecting. Right now, please.”
“Was it…” the older inspector started to ask, his face contorting as emotions flooded through him.
“It was why I told everyone to stop working!” Rivka shouted. The seven inspectors rocked back with the force of her admonition. “Stay here, and no one talks to anyone else. Boran, I know you should be out there starting a safety investigation, but this is a criminal issue. You keep them here, and keep them quiet.”
“Not another one!” he moaned.
“More to follow.” She manhandled the inspector, propelling him toward the door. He wasn’t resisting, but he wasn’t moving under his own power, either.
“But…but…” the inspector protested.
“What’s your name?”
“Humans can’t pronounce it, so just call me Marks like everyone else.”
Rivka noticed that he spoke with an accent, but it was faint. “Marx, like that human guy from history?”
“I don’t know human history. Marks, as in ‘marks up the inspection sheet.’ I tend to find more issues than anyone else.”
He was finally walking without the Magistrate’s encouragement. “What is the inspector’s name?”
“A human. Sheila.” The older alien started to pant. His tongue stuck out as he huffed and puffed. Rivka glanced at him as they twisted and turned through the corridors, bypassing some construction areas while shortcutting through others. He knew where he was going. She would have been hopelessly lost at that point.
“No sweat glands?”
“Just in my tongue, Magistrate. That’s why I pace myself. My co-workers laugh at me.”
Rivka shrugged as much as she could while they hurried along. They were almost running. Lindy’s long strides made her movements look effortless. She carried the railgun as if it were an extension of her body. Her eyes darted everywhere as she moved, looking for things that shouldn’t be, seeking light deep within the shadows.
Rivka didn’t further intrude into Marks’ thoughts as they reached the station’s outer barrier and a temporary airlock. Rivka pulled her hood up and activated her shipsuit’s emergency system.
“You should probably use a real EVA suit, Magistrate,” the wrinkled inspector suggested. “It’s dangerous out there.”
Lindy flipped her hood down and stood back to let Rivka direct the next move.
Marks pointed out a small porthole-style window beside the airlock. An EVA-suited body floated free, restrained by a single tether attached to an eyebolt.
“I know, but my people should be there already. They’ll take care of me.” She pointed back the way they’d come. “I’ll meet you in the room they gave me. No detours. Head straight back there, and thank you, Marks, for showing me the way here.”
He waved his hand, the overly long fingers flapping as if only loosely connected. Rivka gave him no more thought. She and Lindy entered the airlock and cycled it, ready to head in the direction Marks had pointed.
“On my way, Chaz,” Private Cole replied to the AI through his armor suit’s comm. Alant pushed a load of welders within a steel net. Finn was pushing from the other side while wearing a standard deep-space construction suit.
Both the private’s armor and the worker’s suit lights shone brightly. The station lights were not completely operational yet, and with the G-type main-sequence star nearly two AU away, the light was dim at the best of times. Yet the system was well established, with two habitable planets in the Goldilocks Zone, one inhabited by a race known as the Angobar. Once a Gate was built, the system was expected to become a robust trading partner.
The second planet had colonies of settlers who would provide additional nutritional fodder and raw materials the space station would need, possibly even enough for export. The Federation had invested in the system because it was on the frontier. The Angobar had joined the Federation, but everything else was beyond the outer rim of known space.
The star was in one direction and in the other, interstellar wilds. The space station was going to support a deep-space exploration branch for government and private entities. It was going to be the best of both worlds—if the station was ever completed.
“Take this to the hangar bay and secure it. Wait there for further orders. You will not touch any of this equipment, do you understand me?” Cole transmitted to the worker.
“Chill, dude! I’m not in your army.”
Cole clenched his jaw and tried to come up with a proper reply, but nothing came to mind besides beating the crap out of the guy.
“All you have to do is ask. I’ll drop it at the entrance and wait in the ready room with the shuttle pilots. That way, I can grab a chocolate shake.”
The thought of subterfuge disappeared as Cole contemplated the drink. “You have shakes on a half-built station?”
“It’s the way of construction. A well-fed worker is a happy worker. Our bunks might be small, but damn, do we eat well.”
“I’ll be back, and maybe you can snag one for me. Sorry about the order thing. It’s what I’m used to. Put the machines in place and leave them in the netting, please. I shouldn’t be too long. See you there, Finn.” The private jetted away from the load, leaving it in the worker’s large hands.
Cole followed the line on his HUD that took him up and around the top of the statio
n. Chaz was guiding him to a half-built gantry. The private slowed as he approached. “I can’t see anything that looks out of the ordinary,” Cole reported.
“Inspector Sheila Mayer’s EVA suit auto-reported a catastrophic failure in this location. She may have floated away from the station. Her geo-locator beacon is no longer transmitting.”
Alant actively scanned the area for loose objects. In moments, the inside screen of his helmet populated with a combat tactical display highlighting the station and everything else within a kilometer. He dialed in on the gantry.
“Got you.” A floating body tethered on the other side. He accelerated at maximum toward it, then cut the jets and executed a roll to point in the opposite direction so he could slow down. He drifted slightly past her, thinking he saw a movement. He hurried back to examine her suit. It had been slashed and shredded, but she had been wearing a shipsuit underneath. The private hugged her to him. He looked for the nearest airlock, catching sight of the Magistrate and her bodyguard as she exited.
He gestured for them to stay there and carefully headed that way, jerking to a halt when the tether caught. It sprang back, pulling the private and his precious cargo back toward the gantry. A metal fixture swung down, hit the private in the helmet, and continued scraping down his armored back.
The combat systems showed green across the board. Construction debris swinging free. An accident.
They floated toward the tether link. He grabbed the eyebolt with one hand and deftly unhooked the clasp, then kicked off the strut to propel himself back toward the airlock. The Magistrate was pointing at something over his head. He looked up in time to see the scythe-like device heading toward him a second time.
With a move accelerated by his mechanized armor, he turned to put the inspector on the opposite side away from the debris, caught the swinging arm, and twisted it off the gantry. He swiveled back and forth, looking for anything else that would keep him from getting the inspector inside the station.
Fratricide Page 6
