The elevator rocks as they pull and Dothea squeaks in fear.
“Do not worry,” I send to Wrik. “The metal supporting the elevator is nowhere near fatigue point. While I would rather not break cover, I will not let the elevator drop again even if I need hold it up by force.”
“Good to know,” he grunts.
McCaffer looks at him. “What?”
“Wrik that was aloud,” I caution.
“Nothing,” he says. The doors slide open. Exclamations of relief ring out around me.
Wrik stands to one side. “Women, children and civilians first.”
Dothea is first out. Wrik gestures to me, but I push Lesley and McCaffer out first, and then go, turning immediately. At the first hit of slippage I will wrench the doors off and hold the elevator up if need be. But Wrik is on my heels and out of danger in a second.
Emergency personnel appear from around the bend of the long corridor we are in, racing past curious onlookers who are peering out of rooms and adjacent hallways. The medics take charge of the unnerved Dothea and her companions. Wrik and I wave them off.
Seconds later, city police in blue arrive, rolling up on the individual scooters or debouching from other elevators and slidewalks. A muscular blonde woman, five-feet seven inches tall, whose elaborate hair almost covers one of her eyes, strides forward. She is dressed in loose-fitting blue trousers trimmed in gray. She wears a double-breasted jacket with badges and decorations. On one hip hangs a saber-hilted baton, as if it was that bladed weapon. I detect a stunner in a shoulder holster under her jacket. It is not necessary to see the captain’s bars on her collar to tell she is in charge. I check my database: this is Olivia Croyzer, Human Colonist, 32, Chief of Police, former Confed Marine. She exudes command presence and walks past everyone, unconsciously assuming they will get out of her way. She spares assessing glances at all of us, and then leans into the elevator. Waving her hand at the smoke, she spared Wrik a somewhat contemptuous glance.
“That panel,” she says in a deeper than usual voice, “would have been of interest to me, if some trigger-happy star-jockey hadn’t blown it to hell.” She turns, hands on her hips and glares up at Wrik. Although she is five inches shorter than him, Wrik looks taken aback. His face flushes slightly.
“If I hadn’t blown it to hell,” he shoots back. “You’d likely have been inspecting it among the fragments of what was left of us after a twelve kilometer fall at terminal velocity.”
McCaffer stood shakily. “Now Olivia, I’m sure the Lieutenant just did what he thought was necessary—”
“That’s Captain Croyzer to you,” she said barely glancing at him and keeping her eyes focused on Wrik. “Perhaps I should relieve the Lieutenant of that sidearm he’s so fond of firing off in my city—”
“Perhaps,” Wrik interrupted in a deadly tone that surprised both Croyzer and me, “you should get hold of yourself. You’re a captain here, which means precisely not a goddamn thing to me. I’m the senior Confed officer on this station. If I decide its necessary, I can federalize you and place you under my direct command, or for that matter, declare martial damn law and have you arrested for interfering with me.”
The police in the area looked on in astonishment: apparently someone talking to Croyzer in such a fashion was highly unusual. Several of them shift to where they can cover Wrik. They do not notice that I am positioned where I can hit all of them. If one moves, I will kill everyone in this corridor before their weapons can clear holsters. Something about me causes Croyzer to flick her eyes to me momentarily. I remain very still.
She cocked her head and looked at Wrik as if studying an interesting bug. “You’re pretty cocky for a scoutship commander. I’m the duly appointed law on this world.”
“As I pointed out to your boss, I’m the tip of a very large spear. If you want to see a pissed-off commodore and a flotilla, you just keep on. Confed deals with at least one or two pocket dictators a year.”
I am surprised. I have never seen Wrik quite this way. He is rarely stirred to anger but is almost face-to-face with Croyzer.
To everyone’s evident surprise and relief, Croyzer grins at Wrik. “Ok, you don’t scare easy. That’s good. I scare lots of people professionally. It’s tiresome if there’s no challenge. Ok, Starjockey, what do you think happened?”
“Someone tried to kill me and incidentally these other people.”
“You think you’re that important?” she said.
“Someone does. You’ve doubtless been informed of why I am here.”
“Yeah,” she replied, “mystery of the missing scientists. We sent you all we had on those folks. They left. No forwarding address.”
“And that makes sense to you?”
She grimaced. “The more you do police work, the less anything people do surprises you.” She glanced sidelong at a nearby officer. “Sgt Sendis.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Continue the investigation. Take statements from McCaffer and the others. Get some of the engineering crew down here to investigate why the hell the safeties didn’t kick in.”
“The Lieutenant is going to come with me.” She stares up at Wrik as if daring him to disagree. For a moment I think he is going to, simply because he objects to her commanding him. Then he nods.
“Come on,” he says to me before I can mindspeak and warn him not to.
Croyzer did a double-take. “What are you two, joined at the hip?”
“Wrik,” I began to say mentally.
“I’ve got it,” he returns. His mental tone is forceful.
Aloud he says. “I like Lostly. She’s been a good native guide. I find her perspective useful.” His expression is defiant and his breath comes quickly.
Croyzer looks at me narrowly as if seeing me for the first time. This is not good. Wrik has focused her attention on me. I am puzzled by his actions. He is responding in an unusual manner to the woman. Further, he has not disregarded my advice in such a cavalier fashion before.
“Where are you from, Lostly? I don’t recall running into you before. You’re unusual-looking. I’d remember.”
Wrik, I think I am going to be very cross with you. “Lacaille 8760,” I say. “One of the early lost colonies, around a red dwarf. We were cut off during the First Sector War and had a lot of genetic drift, mutation to the third degree.”
“How about we return to finding who was trying to kill us,” Wrik says. “Lostly’s family history can wait.”
She looked around. “Take a ride with me.”
We followed Croyzer back to her aircar. Her driver, who had impressive musculature for a human, opened the doors and we slide in. The car slides smoothly from the curb and into a tunnel. Croyzer reclines on the other side of the car. She tosses her head, throwing the long, thick locks of hair out of her face. I thought it odd that she would affect such a hairstyle, given how it seems to interfere with her vision, then detect that the eye under the thick bang is artificial, optimized for infrared and UV.
Wrik watches her narrowly. He seems to have a fascination with her. This bears further consideration.
Chapter Thirteen
“This was a quiet little outpost before you arrived, Fels,” Croyzer said, leaning back in her seat in a confident pose. “Twenty-four hours after you arrive, we have one explosion and a sabotage attempt on an elevator.”
“So you do believe it was an attempt on my life.”
She nodded. “There are too many safeties for such a thing to happen by accident. So, yes, someone wanted to kill someone on that elevator. Probably you, but even that can’t be taken for granted. McCaffer, the aides, even Lostly here, might have enemies. What do you say, Lostly? Any ex-lovers with a hankering to do you in?”
Maauro regarded her coolly with, I realized, too much assurance for someone her age and position with a Chief of Police. “Sorry, no. Lt. Fels has been my first d
iversion since I arrived.”
“Back to you then, Fels. You are the new factor.”
“Was that explosion near the hotel,” Maauro asked unexpectedly, “also aimed at Lt. Fels?”
Croyzer gave her appraising look. “Hard to say. But as an explosives expert myself, I can tell you whoever did it went to extraordinary lengths to ensure minimal damage, with maximum smoke and no chance of collateral damage. It was perfect as a diversion for someone who, say, wanted to be unobserved for a while.” Her chilly eyes locked on mine but I gazed blandly back.
“Tell me about your mission here,” she continued.
“Surely you were briefed,” I responded.
“Surely I was. Tell me anyway.”
“CPSS Pisces was ordered to Cimer to ascertain why a party of UDEXCO employees with strategic-level skills in biogenetic engineering, haven’t returned. Nor have they made any verifiable contacts with friends, loved ones or colleagues. That investigation naturally raises the issue of why people with such a high-level, indeed military level sets of skills were assembled and sent here in the first place. The Confederacy hasn’t forgotten the Eugenics Rebellion on Olympia. Beyond that, any time Confed citizens disappear in the wayback, it raises the prospect that somebody may be setting up their own little empire. So in the course of my investigations here, I am to determine the health and safety of Confed citizens working in a very hostile and dangerous environment. That means renewing the habitability certificate for this city for non-native life forms.”
Croyzer leaned back in her seat, stretching. “Colony worlds have gone bad before, no denying that. But we’re not Olympia. In any event, space is vast and communications slow. For all you know, these people showed up at their homes, only days after you, or whoever communicated your orders to you, left. How would you know?”
I shrugged. “I have to assume Command took that into account before they diverted a starship, even a small, old one like mine, here.”
“I believe that’s the modern version of ‘Fuck, I got my orders.’”
Despite myself, a grin shot across my face. “I guess so. Some things don’t change.”
“So do you think we have a pocket dictatorship going here?”
“Hard to say yet. I haven’t gotten around to meeting that many regular folks beyond Lostly here. Everyone does seem to be toeing the line around here and frightened to talk with me unless McCaffer or his people are nearby. Normally a spacer far from home, the only link to Confed, is sought after, invited to homes, presented with petitions for grievances, loaded with toys, trinkets to take back and tell people ‘Hey we’re out here.’ I seem to be persona non grata.”
“Maybe you’re dislikeable.”
“I’m pretty charming actually. Isn’t that so, Ms. Lostly?”
“Quite charming when you work at it,” she replied, “which you should start doing again after this ride.”
“Careful,” I mindsent to her. “Dial down the self-confidence.”
“You two are so cute together,” Croyzer said, “it’s about to make me sick.”
“Of course,” I added. “If this was a pocket dictatorship with something to hide, that would make you the enforcer here. If anyone was to make an attempt on my life, logically, it would be you.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, because if I wanted you dead, rest assured you’d be dead. I wouldn’t have stooped to anything as random and unreliable as an elevator fall. Not to mention how obvious an assassination attempt it was. No, if I wanted you dead it would be quick neat and quite plausible as an accident. That is … if I wanted you dead.” She gave a wolfish smile.
“Police manuals must have changed recently.”
“I started with the Confed Marine manual. Semper Fidelis. Don’t tell me you weren’t smart enough to check up on me.”
Actually I hadn’t been, leaving that to Maauro in another of those times that I’d clearly become too dependent on her, complacent even. Though Maauro thought many times faster than I did, it was no excuse for my not thinking at all. “I spotted the close combat badge on your jacket. How long have you been out?”
“Three years,” she bit off, her expression suddenly cold and remote. Croyzer didn’t want to discuss her separation from the Marines, yet she still wore her service ribbons and badges on her police uniform. Useful information to have, but not to press for now, I thought.
“Where are we going?” Maauro asked.
Croyzer didn’t look at her, her eyes continued to bore into me. “Where do you want to go, Lt Fels?”
“We were on our way to see Professor Dok. Perhaps someone didn’t want me to meet him. So that really piques my curiosity. However, I neither need nor want a police escort.”
“I can’t be held responsible for your safety if you won’t accept my protection.”
“Anything happens to me and my ship heads out and comes back with a flotilla. Whoever tried this had better realize what stakes they are playing for.”
Croyzer hit a panel by her right hand. “Jefel?”
“Yes, captain,” came the voice of the unseen driver.
“Professor Dok’s office.”
“Yes, sir.”
She hit the switch again.
“You’re right about that,” she continued. “Whoever would try to kill you is either an idiot, Confed takes care of its own, or they’re big and playing for stakes that maybe we can’t even see on the table yet.”
“Guild?” I ventured.
She shook her head, the thick, glossy, blonde hair shimmered. “No, not unless you have some issue with the Guild of your own or they took a contract. I doubt the latter as they wouldn’t take such a contract here. Guild on Tir-a-Mar is a small operation, well, at least on the 02-breathers side. God alone knows what goes on in the Ribisan areas. We know most of the local Guild operatives: small stuff, petty crime and vice.”
“Interesting,” Maauro said, evidently unable to restrain herself. “Then why don’t you wipe them out?”
Croyzer laughed, evidently mistaking Maauro’s question for naiveté, not strategy. “What, and have this place be like a Unity Church? Then I would be up to my neck in murders. People need a place to blow off steam. Besides, if I wipe out the crew I know, they will simply be replaced by ones I don’t. Still, we are rounding up the usual suspects. I am going to take as many Guilders out of operation as I can while you’re here. Reduces X-factors in case I am wrong about them being after you.”
“That leaves the Ribisans, or parties in the pocket dictatorship.”
“About the first, I can tell you nothing. About the second, you likely wouldn’t believe me as you would suppose I am on their side.”
“Would you, in my place?”
“Hell no. For what it’s worth, I do get the impression something went on here about two years ago. A lot of personnel turned over, a lot of money moved around, offices were moved, some were closed, along with their projects. I was new. Most of it meant nothing to me, as it wasn’t cop business. I was also told to keep my attention on street crime and domestics. Understand, Fels, I’m a company cop in a company town. Tir-a-Mar is an investment, not a political entity.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to warn me.”
The full lips curved into a smile again. “You sure you don’t want police protection?”
“Sure.”
“What about Ms. Lostly here? Or do you care if she catches some mail addressed to you?”
“Thanks. I can take care of myself,” Maauro said.
“What happened to dial down the self-confidence?” I sent. Nothing came back.
“I’m being paid daily more than I make in week,” she continued, perhaps finally paying attention to my prompts. “Who knows, I may be able to hit them up for triple time after this.”
Croyzer sighed. “Yeah, when I was your age I thought I couldn’t die either.” She glowered at me. “Don’t get her killed. She’s just a kid. If she had a mother on station I’d send her home to her.”
“I’ll do my best. But I also think you’ll find that your people want her keeping an eye on me.”
“Hey, I’m not—” Maauro began.
“Of course you are,” I interrupted. “I just hope you’re not telling them everything.”
Maauro picked up the cue and crossed her arms, directing her attention out the window at the spiraling levels of the roadway we were on.
A light glowed on the com on Croyzer’s belt. She picked up an earpiece and listened. “My detectives say the elevator was sabotaged mechanically, with the software looped out of the diagnostics. Very sophisticated. They must have had some idea of your movements and routed this particular model to your location.
She looked at me narrowly. “You got any Ribisan enemies, Fels?”
A frisson of fear shot through me. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“This elevator was last serviced shortly after you arrived on the Ribisan side of the station.”
“Is that unusual?” I asked.
To my surprise she turned to Maauro. “Lostly, care to answer that?”
“It is unusual,” Maauro replied smoothly. “O2 equipment is normally maintained on our side. The Ribisans maintain the station proper, their equipment and most of the dual-use equipment. But that does include some transports that run between the O2 and methane sections, so it is not without precedent. I’ve worked with Ribisan techs occasionally.”
Croyzer looked almost disappointed at the answer.
“That is because she suspects I am more than I seem,” Maauro mindsent, “possibly because you have done everything possible to expose me to her at short-range and for sustained periods beyond asking me to disrobe.”
Oh-oh, I thought, pissed-off killer android at twelve o’clock high.
“That makes it harder,” Croyzer mused. “It’s difficult to get information on criminal or social matters out of the Ribisans and impossible to verify any of it. I have a feeling my investigation will hit a stone wall soon.”
Against That Time Page 13