“Isn’t the duty of the Abh to preserve the culture? Isn’t the pronunciation changing a bad thing?”
“Not so. Abh culture is hardly unique in the fact that it shifts over time, but change is also a characteristic of our culture. Besides, I’ve heard it said that the supposedly ‘perfectly pure’ reconstructed culture of the birth city had a mash of elements from many different eras, and the effort was ill-conceived to begin with. As such, we needn’t shackle ourselves to things past. Expanding culture is part of preserving it. As long as we aren’t too swayed by foreign influences, we should be fine.”
“Well, I guess that’s true.”
“Those are our thoughts on the matter, anyway.”
“Huh. But why does the enemy know about all that?”
“That’s not odd at all. It must still be recounted in records within the Solar System. There are even terrestrial worlds within the Empire that know of our origins. Your ancestors must have departed the Solar System before my ancestors returned to it.”
“Yeah, must be. Otherwise I’d have learned in history class that an orbital city got destroyed.”
“Abhkind erased the home city they so dearly adored. That is the sin that stains our blood. We must preserve the culture we inherited from the city of our birth. Such is our mission as a race. My father told me that to be Abh is to shoulder the weight of that sin, and of that mission. I think likewise.” After a brief pause, Lafier asked him: “Jinto, has this made you dislike becoming Abh yourself?”
“What are you talking about?” Jinto forced a smile. “I’m already Abh, aren’t I? You’re the one who told me that.”
“Yes. Of course,” she nodded, though Jinto could make nothing of her expression.
Then, as Jinto ate up the last of the now-cold Bolkos-style red eggplant soup, it happened without warning.
“Excuse me,” said a female voice from the other side of the door.
“No, don’t!” Jinto shouted reflexively.
But she’d already opened the door. “Coming through,” said the woman, holding clean sheets in her arms. Her skin was tanned brown, and her hair and eyebrows were black. Her facial features were clearly defined, and she looked to be in her early 30s.
“Who, who are you!?” Even Jinto could tell his voice was quavering. He keenly felt that glint in her eyes.
“Oh my, you can’t tell by my dress? I’m housekeeping.”
“Housekeeping...” parroted Jinto, befuddled. He hadn’t known this inn had room staff.
“Yes. I’m here to switch out your sheets.”
Lafier arranged her bangs to hide her froch. Seeing that put Jinto at ease.
“I mean...” pressed Jinto, “Nobody’s replaced our sheets for three days. Why now, all of a sudden?”
“It’s standard service, deary.”
“But couldn’t you just slot them through there?” he replied, pointing to the door’s slotting hole. One had only to toss their laundry there, and after an hour’s time it would be delivered fresh and clean to one’s room.
“I apologize, there must’ve been some miscommunication. May I enter the bedroom?”
“Ah, no, I, uh, I’ll take them.” Jinto was trying his level best to suppress his inner agitation.
The compuwatches and phasers were in the bedroom. The guns were hidden under the pillows; if she changed the sheets herself, she’d spot them.
“But I couldn’t put that on you, the customer...”
“It’s fine, really!” he cut in emphatically, virtually flying into the bedroom to rip off the sheets. Then he stuffed the sheets under his arms, ambled back into the living room, and thrust them into her hands.
“I’m so sorry...” she said. “At least allow me to make your bed with these sheets.”
“Please, that won’t be necessary. I’ll do it myself,” he declined politely.
“Well, all right then.” She placed the new sheets on the chair, and then cocked her head. “Do you have any laundry?”
Jinto was about to shake his head, but then he realized it would be unwise to seem too flustered, so he retrieved the laundry basket from the washroom and handed it to her.
“Thank you; I’m very sorry, sir,” she said as she put the dirty sheets and laundry into the slotting hole.
Jinto had a question for her. “Uh... will you be coming to replace the sheets every day?”
She smiled. “If you wish, sir.”
“In that case, you, uh, don’t have to. Just send them over, and I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind at all, but...”
“Plus, is there a way to lock the door from the inside?”
“Of course there is.”
“It’s just, I had it locked, but then you entered...”
“I work here.”
“Can I lock it so employees can’t enter, either?”
“Sir,” she chided him, “the inn wouldn’t be able to think about your safety in that case.”
“Ah... I guess you’re right.” She was totally right; what if a customer decided to shut themselves in? “Could I at least ask you to wait for us to respond before entering?”
“That is my policy, sir,” she answered primly.
“Wait, but you—” Then Jinto thought better of it. If he attacked her for entering even though he told her not to, nothing good would come of it.
The lady wasn’t shuffling her way out. She stood there smiling, as though waiting for something.
“Was there something else?” asked Jinto cluelessly.
She let out a deep sigh. “Sir, I didn’t want to come right out and say it, but do you know the word ‘sheef’?”
He did not, so he panicked. What in heaven was this woman asking for?
“You could also call it a ‘gratuity.’”
“Ohhh!” he blurted, overjoyed that that had come to light.
“Sure, got it. Please give me a second.” Jinto took some coin out of the small change pouch he was using instead of a “wallet” and gave it to her.
She eyed the pittance in her hand sharply. Jinto quickly added another coin, and then her face lit back up to oblige.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, sir, but could I give you a word of advice?”
“Go right ahead.”
She took out the little tray that was installed onto the side of the laundry slotting hole. Jinto had not had any idea what the tray was for.
“While you’re waiting for the laundry to be done, I would be very grateful if you could place the sheef onto this tray and push it out into the hallway.”
“Okay, right, must’ve forgotten,” he spluttered out as an excuse.
“If you please,” she stressed.
“I do, I do please,” he nodded emphatically. “Next time I’ll give you three days’ worth.”
“I’m glad you understand, sir,” she bowed. “Now then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you.”
As soon as she left, Jinto exhaled.
“What was all that about?”
Jinto shrugged. “We weren’t paying up like we should’ve, so she came to complain about it in a really roundabout way.”
“We did pay them, did we not?”
“We paid the inn. It’s just that we hadn’t seen the other person we were supposed to be paying.”
“You’re making this difficult to understand.”
“Am I? Well anyhow, now I totally get why she barged in unasked on Day 3. As long as we follow the rules to a tee, then they won’t raise a fuss,” he said confidently.
“...I think.”
Chapter 13: The Bileucoth Usér (Hovercar Spotted)
“You sure there’s no mistake here?” said Entryua.
“I’m pretty sure,” said the senior forensics officer.
“The car’s registration number matches, and we picked up traces of all three victims’ fluids.”
“By ‘fluids,’ you mean blood?”
“Their semen, sir.”
“Ugh!” he groaned. “So y
ou didn’t quit on the spot, huh.”
“It’s not as though we delight in searching for such things,” the officer frowned.
“I’ll never understand how these people can get it on in such a cramped space,” said Entryua, pointing at the hovercar with his jaw.
“I completely agree.”
“And all three, at that! Wait. Was this, ahem, ‘ejaculation’ consensual for all parties?”
“That, we can’t know for sure,” the officer shrugged. “But, if I may share my sense of the scene, I think the possibility it was consensual is low.”
Entryua felt the same. “Looks like we ought to be probing around for more offenses our victims may’ve committed.”
“Never mind that,” said Military Police Lieutenant Kyte, who had run out of patience listening to the officers’ conversation. “Are there any traces of one or more Abhs?”
“Not that we’ve found as of now. While we’ve collected over 50 hairs, the lab will perform genetic testing on them in due time...”
“Then please get on with your work, as quickly as you can.”
The senior forensics officer looked at Entryua questioningly. Just go, said Entryua’s eyes, after which the officer turned on his heels.
“Guess we should be thankful those three aren’t clean freaks, huh,” said Entryua as he leaned against the command vehicle and lit a smoke.
The forensics officers who had come all this way from the Lune Beega City Police Office were poking around every inch of the hovercar the suspected Abh and Abh attendant had stolen. Soon they’d be starting to do their favorite thing, which was dismantling and reassembling its parts.
Around the vicinity, Lune Beega Police patrol cars were parked alongside the Crime Lab cars, and lower-ranked officers were standing vigilant.
“We found a clue,” said Kyte excitedly.
“We’d have to by now, after three days,” replied Entryua bluntly.
To think they’d wasted three whole days on this twaddle! If the police had been patrolling as normal, they’d have found that car in an hour, tops. Or, indeed, if communication between officers was as tight and easy as it had been before. He’d asked Kyte to at least issue traffic permits to squad cars, but Kyte responded he didn’t have the authority.
That was when Entryua was seized by a terrifying suspicion — what if this guy was just a deserter who thought himself a military police lieutenant?
Happily, those doubts didn’t devil him for long, because as long as Kyte was in the car, they’d be allowed to traverse any checkpoint with the highest priority.
“What do you think we should do here on out, Inspector? I think we should scour every house and building in this city.”
Slow down there, pal! thought a fed-up Entryua. You think we’ve got that kind of reach? If we scoured every single building, we’d honestly, actually have to commit ALL of the Lune Beega Police’s people and resources to this thing. And I don’t know if Aizan would be amenable to a lawless city under his watch, but I sure as hell ain’t.
Entryua wanted to dodge that.
“Hmm,” he said, pretending to give Kyte’s suggestion some thought. “Well, this is Guzonh, so I think we should leave this to the Guzonh Police Force. They know the area, and there’s more of them.”
“You’d hand this case to strangers?” Kyte shook his head disbelievingly. “I simply can’t understand how you could be so indifferent. We’re hunting an accursed Abh. Though it is a little understandable, considering you were hailing your empress up until a day or so ago...”
“Look here, bucko,” said Entryua. “I don’t even know the Empress’s name.”
“Which is an infringement of your right to know. The ‘right to know’ means—”
“Please, I’m begging you, keep the lecture to yourself. I could look up her name whenever I wanted. I just have no interest.”
“That apathy towards politics is democracy’s greatest scourge. It was beaten into you by the Abh and the imperial citizen stooges.”
“Don’t badmouth my ancestors.” Entryua blew smoke directly at him.
“Your, your ancestors...” he hacked.
“You didn’t notice? The name ‘Entryua’ sounds pretty Abh.” (Spelled Entryac in proper Baronh.) My great-great-grandparents were imperial citizens. Apparently, they were Star Forces sach NCCs, though I don’t know the details. They probably thought life up in space didn’t agree with their skin or whatever, came back down to land.”
“O-Oh.” Kyte’s mouth was agape, but he soon collected himself. “Then you should hate our quarry all the more.”
“What kind of logic is that? Why would I hate them more?”
“They were demoted from imperial citizens to mere terrestrial citizens. Surely you resent that...”
“No, I’m not that spiteful a guy,” he smiled wryly. “Besides, you’ve got the wrong idea: there’s no real difference between imperial and territorial citizens. The Empire protects the rights of imperial citizens, and the territorial civilian government protects the rights of territorial citizens. It’s just a change of jurisdiction. Though that can be a headache for us police, I’ll give you that. Anyway, one of my friends is an imperial citizen, so it’s not like I’ve got to talk to them all formal-like. We get on perfectly normally.”
“Your friend...” Kyte’s eyes were open wide.
“Yes, sir. Runs one of the plantations on the estate of the Marquis of Sfagnoff. But you must’ve got them locked up in one of your concentration camps, sorry, ‘democracy re-education camps.’ I was worried so I tried contacting them, but they weren’t home.”
“Of course we have. They’re more malignant than even the followers of the slave democracy. I can’t speak on the matter of your one friend, but imperial citizens should all be undergoing re-education...”
“I really wonder how I can be so cool-headed at a time like this,” he said, flashing Kyte a ghastly little smile. It didn’t reach smile of the Abh levels, but it was a look that had put fear into the heads of dozens of criminals and at-risk youths. “I’m well-known for always thinking of my friends.”
“Yes, well, about that suggestion from before...” Kyte’s composure had chipped.
“What suggestion?”
“That we leave this case to the Guzonh Police Force.”
“Ah, that.”
“Let’s compromise,” he said, looking at him appraisingly. “I can see you don’t enjoy working with me.”
“Oh, no, working with you has suddenly become a laugh riot,” said Entryua as he fiddled with the cairiac (needlegun) at his waist.
“I’m warning you,” Kyte responded with a stern look. “Slighting me isn’t a good idea. I’ve been conferred with unrestricted right to arrest.”
“Hey, you lot!” Entryua called out to the officers under him.
“What’s up, Inspector?” A handful of bored-looking officers hastened over.
“No, it’s fine, stay there.”
“Roger.”
Entryua looked back at Kyte. “What was that you said earlier? About your ‘unrestricted right of arrest’?”
Kyte ground his teeth. “Soldiers in my army are stationed in this city, too!”
“Sure, but I don’t see any around here.”
“You wouldn’t...” Kyte looked around restlessly.
Naturally, Entryua had no actual intention to do Kyte any harm. It would have been cruel of him to order his officers, armed only with needleguns, to get into a firefight with an army.
“I’m joking,” he said, giving Kyte a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Guess I’m no comedian, huh? I was expecting more than a chuckle out of you.”
“Oh, so you were just joking...” he smiled nervously. “Jokes are useful for harmonizing interpersonal relations. But perhaps this culture’s jokes are a bit tough to grasp.”
“Every planet’s got its own sense of humor.” Then, suddenly, Entryua grabbed him by the collar, and whispered in his ear: “But know this — you and your bu
ddies are not welcome here. And I don’t plan on ‘harmonizing’ our relationship, either.”
“B-But...” Kyte’s mouth repeatedly opened and closed.
Entryua smiled broadly, and let him go. “Let’s go ahead with that suggestion, shall we? I’ll tell the Guzonh Police to send as many officers who don’t smoke as possible.” Entryua picked up the transceiver at his waist and called up the office of Commissioner Aizan. He’d have to settle the matter with the commissioner before he could get the case transferred over. Then they’d set up the crime scene to be taken over by Guzonh.
However, Aizan seemed not to want to let go of his status as cooperating with the occupying army. He was positively dying to show the military that he was useful.
Entryua, for his part, pointed out that they were clearly stepping on Guzonh’s area of jurisdiction, and that if they failed to arrest them, there was a possibility he’d incur the army’s displeasure instead.
Aizan, meanwhile, intimated he’d have Entryua replaced, unless he returned with the crash-landed Abh in custody.
Entryua replied more clearly than ever before that the good commissioner would have his eternal gratitude if he did indeed replace him, describing the voluminous difficulties of the investigation, and stirring up the commissioner’s unease.
At last, Aizan folded.
Momentarily relieved, Entryua hung up.
He smiled at Kyte and said, “Now we’ll both be happy.”
“In our world, what you just did is a flagrant breach of regulations,” said Kyte, stunned. “This may be your last act as a policeman.”
“It won’t be,” said Entryua confidently.
He was a celebrity in Lune Beega, vaunted as a fair and outstanding member of the force. If Entryua got the axe, Aizan would be hit by an avalanche of criticism, and he knew it.
“Inspector.” The senior forensics officer who had waited for Entryua to finish his call stepped into the space between him and Kyte and handed him a piece of resin with a hair sealed inside.
“The results are in. It’s an Abh hair. It’s likely the female suspect’s, as it’s been dyed black.”
“The Inspector was talking to me,” Kyte goggled at him. “And why didn’t you report that to ME!?”
A War Most Modest (JNC Edition) Page 19