Fratricide

by Craig Martelle

  “Right now, that would be seventeen. It’s twenty-one when my security team and I are on board,” he replied, keeping his answer concise and to the point.

  “I’ll need to talk to them. Make sure they stay there, and bring your Yollins and the Ixtali up here with the final batch of workers.”

  “They are working to find the last few holdouts…”

  Rivka’s glare stopped him.

  “I’ll get them here immediately.” He couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  “I think you made him pee himself,” Red whispered.

  The Magistrate cocked one eyebrow before turning back to her datapad. She’d dispensed with the station’s console. It didn’t have everything she was looking for. It was easier to use her own device and get the supplemental information from Chaz, who was tapped into Bluto.

  She tapped the listing Bluto had been updating. “How many now?” she asked Boran. He snapped awake and started counting.

  “Fifty-one.”

  “Does that include those on the super’s ship?”

  “It does not,” the safety manager answered. “Then seventy-two. No, wait. You’ve already talked to the super. Seventy-one.”

  “Do you have them listed separately?”

  He shook his head.

  “Pull a separate list for the admin ship, please.”

  Boran gritted his teeth, unhappy about missing the obvious.

  “When’s the last time you slept?”

  “About the third death,” Boran deadpanned. “Or more recently, since well before you got here. When’s the last time you slept, Magistrate?”

  She furrowed her brow in thought. “I have not slept in the bed on my ship, so I guess it would have been back on Station 7. To answer your question, a while ago, but my team and I have special traits where we don’t need as much sleep.”

  Floyd snuffled and adjusted in Jay’s arms without waking up.

  “Some of us don’t have the special traits.”

  Jay giggled. “I know we can’t wrap it up before we get the last of the workforce in here, but soon,” Jay said in a soothing voice.

  Rivka yawned, and it started a cascade. Red violently pinched his arm to avoid succumbing. He smiled, close-lipped when the feeling passed. Lindy shook her head.

  “We’re all tired…”

  “He’s running!” the construction superintendent yelled from across the room. “Right there.” He pointed to a screen that no one could see. “A construction capsule for short flights. He’s detached from the station and is heading toward deep space!”

  The superintendent’s voice rose with his final statement. He looked both triumphant and terrified.

  Rivka closed her eyes. Chaz, undock from the gantry and go get that capsule. Private Cole, get your suit on, and once the capsule is on board, secure it and the individual within. Bring them to the gantry, and we’ll meet you there.

  Securing the airlock and undocking. We’ll be back shortly, Chaz promised.

  “Zack, please bring up the external cameras, and while we’re watching Wyatt Earp catch the bad guy, you can tell me about who we’ll find on board that construction capsule.” Rivka walked across the room but stopped when the super projected the chase onto the big screen.

  “The individual in question is Regina Novus, one of the Furlorian race, a new addition to the Federation. The Furlorians are a feline species, fierce individuals. There are very few of them left. She landed with us because of her flexibility and eye for detail. She can crawl through the tightest conduit. It’s the craziest thing. She never did anything that would have raised any suspicion.” The super pulled up her employment record. Standard entries. No flags for poor quality. No complaints from co-workers. No corrective actions.

  “Where was she assigned in the days before each incident?”

  The super thought for a moment, then switched to voice command and asked Bluto to show the information on a detailed drawing of the station. She had been in the area of each.

  “What does Boran’s location look like during the same timeframes?” Rivka asked.

  Boran perked up and materialized next to the Magistrate. “I didn’t do it!” He didn’t know her game.

  The map showed that Boran had been in those areas as well.

  “But…but…” he stammered.

  “Relax. I wanted to show that her proximity to the incidents is more typical than not. There’s no proof that it was her, but this is how we build a case. If enough facts add up regarding motive, means, and opportunity, then we can tighten the thumbscrews.”

  “You use thumbscrews?” The super was incredulous.

  “Figure of speech,” Rivka shot back. “Regina Novus. I look forward to talking to you.”

  A group of workers walked through the door. The super waved them off. “You’re not needed now.”

  “Stop!” Rivka demanded. “I still need to talk with every swinging dick on this station. What kind of investigation do you think I’m conducting? I talked to eighty percent of the workers and was satisfied? That doesn’t fly in my book. One hundred percent. Every single person here.”

  The super threw his hands up in surrender. “Over here, please. Line up.” He counted heads, and Boran marked off names.

  “What do you know about the deaths of your co-workers?” she asked before strolling purposefully down the line, dragging her hand along their arms as she passed.

  Confusion. Heard about it in the safety stand-down. Was sleeping when it happened. Damn, that green-haired chick is hot.

  Rivka rubbed her temples. “They can go.”

  Red poked a thumb toward the door. “Away you go,” he told them.

  “Do we get paid for that? Should be an hour’s worth,” one of them complained.

  Thirty-eight left. Thirty-seven since the pilot of the capsule looked to be in custody. The chase had lasted only a few seconds. The capsule and its pilot had been quickly captured and brought into the small hangar bay of Rivka’s frigate. She expected Alant Cole had secured the pilot and was already taking her to the airlock for when the ship docked.

  “Get me the last people. Have them waiting here when I return, unless I call you, and then bring them to my interview room.”

  Rivka felt lighter. She waved and smiled at the super as she departed.

  The pressure of not finding the criminal. Had she been carrying that much on her shoulders? Fear of failure?

  A glimmer of hope. Find the perp. End the attacks on the workers.

  Red took the lead with Rivka, and Jay sandwiched in the middle. Lindy brought up the rear. They walked quickly to the elevator. Once again, Rivka was hesitant. Red checked it and gave the thumbs-up. They went down without incident, arriving at the gantry level, where they wove through partially completed areas on their way to Wyatt Earp.

  They arrived as the airlock was completing its cycle. It opened to reveal Clodagh waiting with the big orange cat, Wenceslaus, in her arms. “There’s a problem,” she stated while giving the appearance that whatever issue they were having, it wasn’t a concern.

  “I’m going to need a little bit more.” Rivka rolled a finger to encourage Clodagh to share.

  “The individual in the capsule is a nearly human-sized cat. Alant is chasing it around the hangar bay, but it appears to be a shade quicker than he is.”

  “Which means our perp is loose on my ship.”

  Red and Lindy pushed past the Magistrate and the engineer on their way to the hangar bay.

  “A cat-person?” Jay asked with wonder. She put Floyd down and ran after the bodyguards.

  “She could be a serial killer,” Rivka yelled down the corridor. Floyd tottered off toward the bridge.

  “At least one of us has some sense.” The Magistrate smiled while shaking her head. “Thanks, Clodagh. Good work getting out there and making the capture.”

  “I wasn’t involved. It seems the captain had Chaz do it.”

  Clodagh’s words stung. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to h
aving a crew. I’ll fix it. You can be sure that I’ll fix it.” Rivka walked with her head bowed, listening carefully for the inevitable crash and bang that came with chasing a perp through an open area acting as a storeroom.

  She didn’t hear anything, and that concerned her more than sounds of a struggle.

  The hatch to the hangar bay was closed and sealed. Red and Lindy were already inside. Rivka peeked through the small window next to the hatch. Red filled most of it. Lindy was creeping along one side of crates, while Cole in his mech was on the other. Rivka popped the hatch and strolled through.

  A furry creature wearing worker coveralls vaulted over the crates, inverted to push off the ceiling with all fours. She launched off the mech’s back, straight for Rivka. In a startling display of speed, Red’s hand shot out and caught the Furlorian by the neck. He stepped forward, pushed her to the deck, and leaned on her back.

  She struggled briefly before relaxing, her eyes searching the Magistrate and the hatch beyond. Red’s fingers were wrapped entirely around her slim neck. He pressed his knee harder into her back. He stopped applying pressure when she winced and hissed.

  “Now that we have your attention,” Rivka started, “I’d like to know why you killed those people?”

  The Magistrate grabbed the Furlorian’s fuzzy ear.

  She hadn’t killed anyone or even committed a crime besides not having a work permit from the Furlorian government. She was supposed to be on her home planet of Krawlas, breeding to repopulate the species. She didn’t want to be a breeder, no matter what her duty was. She wanted to learn a trade, build things, and travel the galaxy. The other workers treated her as well as they treated anyone. She felt like one of them.

  Rivka stepped back. “You did nothing wrong,” she exclaimed, blinking the rapid images from her mind before coming back into the moment. “Red, let her go.”

  “But Magistrate!”

  Rivka nodded toward the hatch, and Lindy secured it. Cole remained in his armor and watched closely from nearby, but with her speed, he was almost powerless against her.

  Red released her and she stood up, hissed at the big man, and turned to Rivka.

  “How do you know?” the creature asked in her own language of clicks, purrs, and hisses. The chip translated it for the humans.

  “I just do. In the Federation, your body is your own. A mandatory breeding program violates Federation law. The work permit, on the other hand, falls under local jurisdiction, but if you were to request asylum because of your beliefs, I think you’d have a receptive audience in the Federation.”

  “Asylum! Yes. That is what I want.”

  “As a Federation Magistrate, I grant your asylum…what’s your name?”

  “They call me Glimmer,” she replied.

  “Fine.” Rivka nodded once, folded her hands together, and looked up. “Chaz, are you there?”

  “Yes, Magistrate,” the AI replied, using the bay’s speakers.

  “Make sure the appropriate paperwork is prepared, please. I’ll digitally sign and forward it for inclusion in her file.”

  “It will be ready momentarily. There may be some diplomatic backlash. The Furlorians have not even dispatched ambassadors to neighboring planets because their population numbers are so low.”

  “How in the hell did that happen?”

  “The Wyyvan attempted to exterminate us because we lived on a resource-rich rock.” She spat her statement as if it should have been common knowledge.

  Rivka had never heard of the race, let alone their trouble with the Wyyvan.

  The young female continued, “But the Federation gave us shelter and ships to return and retake our planet. We won, and are now rebuilding.”

  Rivka pumped a fist in the air. “The Federation—helping people help themselves.” She relaxed. “I don’t want to cause any problems with your people, Glimmer, but I won’t make you go back.”

  “What if that causes problems?” the Furlorian asked.

  “Then we’ll deal with it, especially if they have forced breeding. They need to convince you it’s the right thing to do, not make you do it. That’s illegal under Federation law. As a member, this is a premise that is absolute.”

  “The gacking law!” Glimmer was raging angry. It had taken a millisecond.

  “I’m a Magistrate! Of course, I’m going to apply the law, because it matters. What would the Federation look like if we didn’t have laws? Slaves. There would be slaves, and nothing anyone could do about it. But because of laws, we were able to dismantle an immense slave ring. Would you rather we apply the laws, or let the galaxy descend into anarchy?”

  The Furlorian hissed and growled.

  “I don’t get you,” Rivka said softly. “I’m trying to help, and you’re getting pissy with me. I’ve given you exactly what you’ve asked for and am ready to return you to the workforce, but you’re jacking me around. I don’t like it.”

  Glimmer smoothed a whisker with one long-clawed finger. “I thought you were going to negotiate with the government on Krawlas. Taj and I don’t see eye to eye,” the Furlorian purred.

  “She acts just like Hamlet,” Red remarked.

  The cat who had helped himself into General Reynolds’ luggage.

  “You are a feline species?” Rivka asked, even though she’d already been briefed, and her own eyes confirmed what she thought.

  Red hovered a foot over Glimmer’s tail in case she tried to bolt.

  The Furlorian didn’t bother replying.

  “Open it up.” Rivka motioned to Lindy. “She’s to rejoin the workforce without further delay.”

  When the hatch opened, Clodagh was standing in the corridor, still petting Wenceslaus. His ears perked up when he saw another cat. He yowled loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Glimmer stalked up to him. He started to hiss, and she caught his face in her hands and stared him down. Wenceslaus started purring, then jumped from Clodagh’s arms into Glimmer’s, where he proceeded to rub his face all over hers.

  “You have cats as pets?” she asked.

  “He’s a stowaway. He goes aboard whatever ship he wants. The War Axe landed on a planet once. He had the chance to go outside but wouldn’t. He lives on the spaceship of his choosing and gets appropriately pampered while on board.”

  “Good. I would have it no other way.” The two cats stared into each other’s eyes until Wenceslaus started to purr again. A soft rumble low in Glimmer’s throat suggested she was replying in a language that only the big orange cat would understand.

  Glimmer carried him with her as she looked for the way off the Magistrate’s ship. Lindy intercepted her and showed her to the airlock.

  “You’re not going to take Wenceslaus, are you?” Lindy’s voice carried a cold edge.

  The Furlorian hesitated before answering, “No. He is no one’s property. He goes where he pleases when he pleases.” She put the cat down and turned to head through the airlock, but stopped and spoke over her shoulder. “He calls this ship Smells of Purple.” Her tail twitched as she walked away.

  Chapter Eleven

  Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction

  Private Cole apologized for the fourth time, but Rivka waved him off. “There was nothing you could have done unless you wanted to shoot up my ship, and I’m glad you didn’t.” She wanted to rest her hand on his shoulder, but the emotions and images that had inundated her that day were wearing her down. She didn’t want to torture herself further. Her “gift” wasn’t always pleasant. “Can you imagine if we sent you to collect Wenceslaus? It’s exactly that.”

  “I couldn’t catch that little bastard while I was in my mech suit. I’m not good enough yet.”

  “Hey!” Clodagh protested.

  “Maybe you can top him off or something so he can relax and stop beating himself up. I have to get back to the station.”

  “I’m right here,” Alant mumbled.

  “Did you just order me to have sex with my boyfriend?” The lieutenant crossed
her arms and hitched her stance.

  Rivka pursed her lips as she thought about it. “Is that how you took what I said? And if that’s how you understood it, would it be so repulsive?”

  Clodagh looked around before leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, “If I must, while on the clock. It’s all good time that counts toward retirement, right?”

  “I’ll try not to let anyone else escape so you don’t have to take Wyatt Earp out to make the capture. Can’t have any interruptus.”

  Clodagh winked in reply.

  Rivka twirled her finger in the air so Red and Lindy could see. It was time to go.

  The three padded toward the airlock and through.

  No one was waiting for them. Rivka accessed the station communications terminal at the end of the gantry. “Construction Superintendent Orbal, please.”

  “Zack here, Magistrate.”

  The friendly and cowed super, Rivka thought. “Round up the rest of the workforce and have them waiting for me. The runner was a false alarm. That was your Furlorian called Glimmer. She’s not involved in the incidents.”

  The superintendent verbalized his dismay that the investigation would continue with a single groan. He finally committed to continuing. “On it.”

  “Thirty-eight workers remaining to interview, and you bring me twenty.” Rivka wasn’t amused. They’d stood in line grudgingly. She asked a couple questions and listened to their thoughts. No criminals, just people who hated those in charge—almost every single one of the twenty.

  “We’re still looking for the rest. Your investigation and requirements came as a surprise.” He held up his hands, surrendering to the Magistrate’s authority while still making excuses.

  Rivka glared. “You want me to start tagging people? Who is your direct boss? What company do you work for? I want to have a conversation with them to see under what rock they found you.”

  “There’s no call for that.” The super tried to calm the Magistrate but had no luck. He dropped his hands, and his shoulders sagged. He slumped into a nearby chair. “This project has been shit from the word go. It took too long to find enough workers. We didn’t have the right mix, so we tried to train a bunch. They fucked things up and caused us a bunch of rework. We fired them, leaving us with this group. They are good people, but there aren’t enough of them. We’ve been working fourteen-hour days for way too long. The pay looks great from their perspective. The station is just above the lowest acceptable standard, which is still pretty damn good!”