by Mia R Kleve
As he said that, Hak-Chet looked straight at Elgar. If Gtandans had been prone to blushing, he might have done so under the scrutiny. Since they weren’t, he merely smiled in return.
“If this follows the schedule I recall, you’re looking at several more days for the selection process, are you not?” Elgar asked.
Hak-Chet nodded. “Indeed. This particular test will finish in about an hour. As you well know, it isn’t timed, but if they take too long, I’ll stop them. There’s a difference between being meticulous and being slow.”
“Perhaps we should return to our rooms, change out of our traveling clothes, and relax before we have something to eat,” Hetok suggested. “We’d be pleased if you could join us, Hak-Chet.”
The selector nodded his assent. “Nothing would please me more. Shall we meet in ninety minutes? I’ll send you information on a restaurant I favor. It’s somewhat out-of-the-way but quite good.”
“I like the sound of that,” Elgar admitted. “I’m hungry.”
The two of them said their goodbyes and made their way back toward their rooms. They walked in silence and Elgar could tell that his friend was pleased at how well his grandnephew was doing. That was certain to be a topic of discussion as they ate.
At Elgar’s door, they parted ways. Rather than entering his bedroom, Elgar stepped over to the clear barrier between his suite and the balcony. There was an inset door that he now opened to step out into the dangerous space.
The balcony had doors to the main room and his bedroom, and it also held several chairs and a table. Those with better eyesight probably enjoyed this as a comfortable place to relax and take in the view.
The wind wasn’t too strong, so he steeled his will and put his glasses on. They revealed the clever baffles that someone had installed to keep the worst of the wind at bay. It also revealed more open space than he was comfortable with and showed him just how high up he really was.
His room was very near the top of the spire, so the trees were basically a green carpet over seven hundred meters below. He gripped the rail hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the chilling vista.
No being should be so high off the ground when not safely enclosed in a shuttle. It was unnatural, he thought.
He was still considering that when an explosion violently knocked him off his feet, almost hurling him off the balcony. Half dazed, he clutched the railing even harder to keep from toppling over it.
The blast was strong enough to disrupt his equilibrium and his ears were ringing. That was one of the problems with having excellent hearing.
He gathered himself and raced into the hall, looking for the source of the explosion. Flames and smoke billowed from a shattered doorway close by.
Cold dread filled him. It led to Hetok’s suite.
* * *
The flames were already dying down as Elgar rushed forward. A disassociated and shocked part of his brain couldn’t believe that the fire suppression system was still functioning. It couldn’t have been designed to withstand a blast like that.
Choking smoke still poured from the room, but he threw his arm across his snout and rushed inside. While the calculating part of his brain doubted his friend could have survived anything like this explosion, he had to try to save him.
The sight that greeted him only a few steps inside the room proved that he’d been too late the moment the explosives detonated. Hetok’s body lay against one of the walls, scorched, bloody, and shredded.
His friend literally lay in pieces.
Holding his breath and blinking rapidly tearing eyes, he saw that the blast had been centered on the bed, where scraps of what had once been luggage lay blown apart and still burned weakly.
He noted the suite of rooms—identical to his own—were designed for non-Juk, but his friend had wanted to stay on the same floor as Elgar. While he was sure his small friend wouldn’t have been comfortable on the large bed, it was easier to stay close so they could do things together.
Things they would now never do.
The damage to the room was more contained than he’d expected, based on the strength of the blast. It had blown out the door and shattered the barrier to the balcony, as well as having lit many of the furnishings on fire.
Yet none of the walls had blown out. The pressure wave had only been great enough to kill Hetok. The occupants in the rooms to either side of the suite might have been deafened, but they hadn’t been in serious danger.
Someone had calculated the force required to build a device that was limited enough in scope to do the job without creating a mass casualty event.
The smoke and the stench of roasted flesh finally became too much to bear and he started to turn away when he saw something glinting just under the edge of the bed. He crouched lower and found his friend’s badge. It must’ve been ripped away from him in the explosion.
Like all Peacemaker badges, it showed the stylized logo of a tree. In this case, it was undoubtedly one from his friend’s home world, for each Peacemaker designed their own image.
Elgar pocketed the badge and fled the room. He’d have to return once the worst of the smoke had cleared out to oversee the gathering of evidence.
Outside, a crowd had gathered, mostly filling the hall. They were primarily other guests, but several XenSha in what were obviously security uniforms were pushing through the gawkers, their tentacles waving.
When the first of them got to him, Elgar held up a hand. “No one may enter this room until I say so.”
“Please move aside, sir,” the small security officer said, his voice hard. “I need to check for injured. Are you injured?”
“The room’s occupant is dead,” Elgar said grimly as he reached into his jacket and pulled out his Peacemaker badge, its logo resembling one of the massive trees on his home world. “This is a crime scene, and I am declaring it sealed under my authority as a Peacemaker.”
He could see the XenSha wanted to argue, but he contained himself, stepped back, and nodded. “I’ll summon my superior at once, Peacemaker. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already on his way. Can you tell me what happened? I’m going to have to write up a report and some details would be helpful.”
“The occupant of the room was Peacemaker Hetok,” Elgar said flatly. “The explosion seems to have been centered on his bed where his luggage was.”
“A Peacemaker has been killed?” the XenSha asked in a strangled whisper. From his expression, he was already imagining the level of trouble that was coming, and the vision didn’t appeal to him.
Elgar nodded. “Seal off this floor and begin questioning everyone who might have seen anyone going into his rooms. If there is surveillance video, I want it secured, as well. I’ll be examining it in close detail as soon as my support team arrives.”
The XenSha turned and began directing his people to start clearing the area of gawkers. Even as he was doing that, Hak-Chet pushed his way past the security line and walked up to Elgar.
“Hetok’s room?” he asked quietly.
“There was something in his luggage,” Elgar confirmed, sagging a little. “He was gone before he had a chance to realize that he was dead.”
“That’s a blessing,” the Sidar said solemnly. “Perhaps the only one better is to die asleep in one’s bed. Neither of those outcomes is typically the case for Peacemakers, sadly.”
To Elgar, it looked as if his friend had aged fifty years in the space of just fifteen minutes. Even though he’d known Hetok for five years, Hak-Chet had known him far longer.
“Are you aware of any events that would prompt someone to attack Hetok?” Elgar asked. “Did he have any enemies that thirsted for his death?”
Hak-Chet made a gesture of uncertainty. “Like any other Peacemaker, he’s undoubtedly made countless enemies over the course of his service. I’d wager many of them will rejoice in his death, but I know of no one in specific who knew he was returning home. Only his closest friends knew he intended to retire.”
�
�That’s something I’ll have to examine in closer detail,” Elgar said, rubbing his snout and unintentionally smearing soot across his face. “What about here on Jukus? Does his family or anyone he associated with hold a grudge worthy of killing him?”
“Juks are made up of clans,” Hak-Chet said, fluttering his wings slightly. “Hetok was a member of Clan Ress. Once he left the Guild, his name would’ve reverted to Hetok Ress Hosmir. It’s a very large and powerful clan, at least in a local sense. I fear that’s the extent of my knowledge.”
That wasn’t an unexpected revelation. There was no reason for Hak-Chet—or any other Peacemaker—to know about Hetok’s relationship with his clan or the people of his home world.
He had thought that he was going to enjoy a relaxing vacation, but now he would be spending his time on Jukus pursuing his friend’s murderer with everything he could bring to bear.
While there were certainly far more heinous crimes the Peacemaker Guild dealt with, they reserved a special zeal in avenging their own. Whoever had killed his friend would deeply regret it before Elgar was through.
For now, he needed to get someone he trusted to go over the evidence. On a regular mission, his team would have been with him. But because he was technically off duty, he would have to pull something together.
Jukus was an advanced world that had strong trade ties and exported fine woods that were both highly sought after and fetched a tidy profit, or so Hetok had once said. Elgar had no doubt there was a Peacemaker office on the planet. They could provide trustworthy people to assist him.
He was lucky he had his communicator on him because he wouldn’t be going back into his own rooms until they had been cleared. Whoever had killed Hetok might have wanted to eliminate more than one Peacemaker. As Jessica—the first Human Peacemaker—had once told him, “in for a penny, in for a pound.”
“You need to stay away from your rooms,” he told Hak-Chet firmly. “They’ll need to be searched before you can use them again.”
The Sidar blinked twice and then nodded. “You suspect that we’re all targets? I’ve been here for weeks already. If they wanted me dead, they’d have already had a good chance to make it happen.”
“I doubt they were after you,” Elgar admitted. “But I’m not assuming anything at this point. Not until I have a suspect or suspects to start analyzing motives.”
A disturbance up the hall captured their attention. A Juk with red-tinged brown fur was stalking through the security line toward them. She wore a necklace supporting a medallion that vigorously bounced off her vest as she stalked forward, her face a mask of grim fury.
“It looks like the first real challenge to your investigation has arrived, Peacemaker,” Hak-Chet murmured. “That’s Pitaw Ress Hosmir, Hetok’s niece, head of Clan Ress, and the owner of this spire. She’s also the mother of the boy Hetok came to see.”
Elgar sighed. With the death of her uncle, he knew this was going to go badly. Sadly, there was no helping that. He’d just have to do the best he could for her.
* * *
Clan Leader Pitaw advanced so aggressively, it almost seemed as if she were gliding across the floor. She ignored Elgar and confronted Hak-Chet.
“I heard an explosion. What happened?”
Hak-Chet bowed his head. “I deeply regret that your uncle has been killed, Clan Leader. The circumstances are unclear, and you’ll have to consult with Peacemaker Xarbon about the details of the investigation.”
Pitaw blinked and stared at Hak-Chet, her mouth hanging slightly open. “What?”
Elgar took that moment to step forward. “Allow me to add my regrets, Clan Leader Hosmir. Your uncle was my friend, and I will do everything within my power to find out who’s responsible and see that they face justice.”
She stood there for a few seconds, seemingly unable to process what he’d said. Then she shook herself and stepped toward the smoldering room. “I need to see him.”
Elgar stepped between her and the door. “I’m afraid this is a crime scene, Clan Leader, and now a matter for the Peacemaker Guild to investigate. I think it’s best if we go somewhere we can talk more privately.”
The woman sagged. “Of course. This is going to take some time to adjust to. Who could possibly have wanted to harm my uncle?”
“That’s one of the things we’re going to have to discuss. What can you tell me about his relationship with the people on your world?”
Pitaw walked slowly down the hallway with him, forcing him to shorten his steps drastically so he didn’t leave her behind. Hetok had always been so full of energy that Elgar had never needed to slow down. Now he felt as if he were moving through molasses.
“Uncle Hetok was deeply respected on Jukus. His older brother was my father and clan leader before me. My uncle was revered and loved. I can’t think of a single person who had ill will toward him. Surely this must have had something to do with his duties as a Peacemaker.”
Even though he privately doubted it, Elgar shrugged slightly. “I’m going to investigate that possibility very thoroughly. Whoever did this, they haven’t had time to get far. If they’re from off world, we’ll do everything possible to make sure they don’t get away.
“It’s my understanding that Clan Ress owns this spire. I’m going to need access to any and all recordings of public areas. While I’m certain you don’t have anything inside your uncle’s room, if there is a recording of this hallway, it might be crucial in determining what happened.”
Pitaw sighed and shook her head. “Every floor has external access for Juks to arrive and leave via the air. Most also have artificial gliders for other guests.
“Sadly, the individual hallways aren’t monitored. There are so many places that people can enter and exit the spire it never seemed worthwhile to monitor them. Now, I wish I’d chosen differently, but it’s far too late for that.”
The two of them reached the end of the hall and stood in front of a transparent barrier with a clear door, blocking off a wide balcony overlooking the breathtaking drop to the forest below.
There was only a short railing separating the paved area from the vast space beyond, but he supposed that made sense since people would be arriving and leaving by going over it. It wasn’t there to prevent a fall. It was more of a demarcation line between the ground and sky.
While most of the balcony was clear, the right side had racks of the ubiquitous mechanical gliders for those visitors who couldn’t themselves fly. Elgar still didn’t understand why anyone could possibly want to do that, but there was no accounting for the relative sanity of other species.
He opened his mouth to continue with his questioning but paused. Now that he was away from the smoke and horror of Hetok’s suite, his sense of smell had returned and brought with it a mystery.
Just at the edge of his senses, that same delicate scent that he’d smelled in his room was back.
He turned his head slightly, squinting in confusion. There was no sign of fragrance dispensers anywhere around them. Where was the scent coming from?
Elgar inhaled deeply and tried to determine more about the odor. It wasn’t perfume. No, it had a more organic texture. It was definitely the same one that had been present in his room, though. Only now, it was stronger, though still subtle.
“Peacemaker Xarbon?” Pitaw asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I must still be a little muddled from the explosion. If I could have a moment?”
Elgar allowed his senses to dwell on the area around him, closing his eyes and giving himself over fully to his sense of smell. While it might not be the best that Gtandus had ever produced, it was far from the worst.
His unlamented father had seen to that via rigorous training. In business, being able to smell one’s competitors and then interpret how they felt about something during negotiations was a key advantage Gtandans had, and his father had been determined Elgar would excel at it.
After a few deep breaths, he
became certain the smell came from Clan Leader Pitaw.
He opened his eyes, retrieved his glasses, and considered her. After a few moment’s reflection, he realized that the scent had to be coming from the medallion resting on her chest. It was wood and was about four centimeters across, suspended by what looked to be a silver chain around her neck.
It sported the carved image of a great tree. The same tree that had been on Hetok’s Peacemaker badge, unless he was gravely mistaken.
“Do you mind if I ask what your medallion is made out of?” he asked.
She blinked at the apparent non sequitur, and then looked down at her chest. “It’s our clan leadership sigil. It’s carved from one of the ducia trees that we export. It’s been the mark of leadership in Clan Ress for centuries.”
“Is the wood rare?”
She shrugged slightly. “Not precisely rare, but it is very expensive.”
He nodded. “Is it exported by many other clans, private individuals, or corporations?”
“No. It’s a genetic hybrid created by Clan Ress about five centuries ago. To say that we’re somewhat jealous about controlling access to the supply would be an understatement. Only Clan Ress as a whole, and certain individuals within the clan, are allowed to grow or sell ducia wood.”
“Do others in your clan favor medallions or other body wear that uses ducia?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. Why do you ask?”
He smiled slightly. “I’ll explain in a moment. Did your uncle own any ducia trees?”
Her jaw clenched before she made an obvious effort to relax it. “Before he joined the Peacemakers, Uncle Hetok inherited one of the largest private holdings of ducia trees in the clan from my grandfather.”
Elgar nodded slowly. The pieces were falling into place.
“And what happens to those trees now that he’s dead? Who inherits them?”