“What’s the Queen of Shaws’ name?” Marshal Harry asked suddenly, watching a soldier take up position on the roof of the restaurant. Its head was fused with four rapid fire blasters pointing at the sky.
“Her name is the Queen of Shaws,” I said, taking a moment to think through the question. “And the Mother of All Mothers’ name is—"
“The Mother of All Mothers, got it,” Marshal Harry interrupted. “I’ve been wondering why you almost always call me Marshal Harry. You know, you could just say Harry for short?”
“Ah… sorry, didn’t think of that.”
“I’m going to see this one in my nightmares.” Harry sighed, watching a young Moordenaap carted down into the nest, accompanied by her parents.
“The Mother of All Mothers isn’t just a title,” I said. “She is literally the mother of all the queens. These workers and soldiers are her grandchildren, and so are the eggs beneath our feet. She will want someone burned for this. She can be very… judgemental.”
“I’ve met her, impressive presence,” Marshal Harry said. “Where’s LB?”
We walked around the drone hauler and found LB stretched across the bench seats in the crew cab.
“Having a snooze, old boy?” I asked.
“No, making myself useful,” he answered, sitting up quickly.
“Any trace of rokALL?” Marshal Harry asked.
“I checked all Marshal Service databases and put out a ‘Be Aware’ notice. Then I contacted the banks for details. No one’s gotten back to me yet, so I tried unofficial channels.”
“And?”
“No one’s heard of him.”
“So how is this being useful?” I asked.
“One, it means he is not a major player in the criminal fraternity, and two, I hadn’t finished—"
“Colour me chastised,” I said. “What did you find?”
“I contacted the AI that runs his domicile block,” LB said. “He left the building on the same day he left his job and never came back. But all the stuff from his room was put into storage. As far as the AI knows, it is still in the basement.”
“Okay, I’ll get us a warrant and, first thing tomorrow, we’ll see if there’s anything traceable.”
“I’ll ask around my old trading partners,” LB said. “Some of them know unsavoury people.”
“But you don’t?” I asked.
“Only you,” he said with a grin. I got the feeling I was losing the battle of wits.
“Behave yourselves,” Harry said. “We’re a team, remember? Anymore of this and I’ll have you both painting the outside of the building.”
“Sorry, Marshal,” I said.
“I think we’re finished for today,” Marshal Harry said. “Let’s turn in and start fresh in the morning.”
“If you say so,” I said. I moved to climb into the cab of the flatbed.
“I’m going to walk back to the office,” Harry announced. “I need to think.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” I dropped back to the ground. Fourteen knees are handy sometimes.
“I can take care of myself,” Harry protested. “At least well enough to walk home on my own.”
“Normally I’d agree,” I lied. There were very few people on the planet less well armed than Harry. “But you just pointed out that this is a big escalation for our murderer. So what if he decides to take out the only detective marshal on the planet? That would give him plenty of breathing space.”
“The bug has a point, Marshal,” LB said and clambered out of the cab with a sigh. “If you’re walking, we’re coming with you.”
I was hoping she would change her mind, but no. We walked. At least the clouds had cleared and it stayed dry. I checked the newsfeeds. Clips of explosions, recorded on witness cyber systems, were on every channel. Reporters were on the scene, pointing out there was nothing more to see and that people were staying indoors. Suited me, since it meant it was easier to spot possible marshal threats.
“So who do you think did it?” Long Barnacle asked. “I’m thinking has found a way to cash in on her husband’s demises.”
I nodded. ”Statistically it was the wife.”
“You finally read that homework I sent you?” Harry interrupted. “But mapoTHER owning the haulage company is evidence of defrauding her husband. Not evidence of murder.”
“No one else has a motive.” LB shrugged his massive shoulders. “And it took real money to pay for that hit by spaceship. Those missiles are fifteen thousand apiece.”
“Just because we have not found a motive,” Marshal Harry pointed out, “doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. I swear cleoroCASS was holding something back. Tomorrow, I want detailed background checks on her, Next Big Chop, and everyone she’s ever met. We need to find some leverage to pry her open.”
“I’ll put that on the list, after searching a basement,” I said.
The joint message signal came up on my cybernetics dashboard and I turned it on. An image of ACM Ooula seated at her desk staring at me was projected directly into my brain.
“We are getting mixed reports of a shoot-out between marshals and a spaceship in orbit,” she said. “Which makes no sense. I know Marshal Ward does not carry a gun, and Long Barnacle has the standard-issue side arm, so that only leaves…”
The ACM stared at me.
“Sorry we have not had a chance to report in,” Marshal Harry said quickly. “It has been rather frantic around here.”
Ooula held up a hand. The thick hoof material on the back of her hand and fingers created a natural gauntlet.
“Did that bug shoot down a spaceship?”
“I did no such thing,” I said. “I shot the missiles it launched at a restaurant.”
She kept staring at me.
“I added the booster stage to Old Number Seven,” I explained.” I used the full weapon plus my cybernetically-enhanced sensors and brain to track and shoot an intercept course.”
She stared at me. “You think you are explaining, don’t you?”
“He was defending me, ma’am, and although we have evidence now that I was not the target, I will defend what Chunglie did to whoever—"
“No need to defend your deputy to me, Ward” Ooula said. “We cannot let this attack pass. No one takes a shot at a marshal and walks away. I’m coming down there mob-handed and we are going to kick every door and dig up every rock to find those responsible.”
I had to admit, an angry Tooyr standing and thumping a hole in her desk was impressive. Long Barnacle opened his mouth to correct her.
“But ma’am, we don’t know who—" The marshal stood on his rear hand. “Ouch.”
“We’ll start with this Auld Gowk Cabal,” the ACM said. “Every door they have, we are going to kick down.”
“The Queen of Shaws’ egg vault was in the line of fire,” Marshal Harry pointed out. “She will want to see the Marshal Service being proactive.” She said that last part mainly to Long Barnacle.
“Damn, what? What kind of animals shoot at eggs?” The ACM sat back in her seat and calmed down. “We haven’t been sitting on our hands up here either. My forensic accountants have been digging into the OVO finances and found more links to tax havens and money laundering. I’ll put the details online if you want them, but I thought you might like to know the holo-render of cruisOVO’s space yacht is finished. You can have a look round it whenever you are ready, but there are a couple of strange details.”
“Anything that affects our case?” Marshal Harry asked. The ACM’s face shrugged.
“Maybe. The cyber techs discovered that the navcomp was shut down thirty minutes before the ship hit that moon.”
“Then how…” LB wondered.
“We got the construction plans from shipbuildersy,” ACM said. “There was a secret office hidden in the yacht, complete with its own AI. The geek squad theorise it was this computer that flew the yacht into the ground.”
“That means there is an AI out there with no ethics programming,
” I pointed out the obvious. Hate doing it, but sometimes it just slips out. “OVO must have paid someone a lot of cash to develop that for him.”
“The full render is on your office system,” the ACM said. She cut the link.
“So we’re not bringing mapoTHER in for questioning?” I asked.
“Not yet. There’s no evidence she had anything to do with the murders. We have suspects we haven’t found yet, but there’s only three of us. The heavy squad are good at asking questions. They’ll be able to question the people who were at the Queen of Shaws’ party and anyone cruisOVO and his wife interacted with before the yacht crashed. And then there’s the spaceship that fired on us. I want to know who they were and who hired them but—"
“Well, you don’t need the entire Marshal Service for that,” Long Barnacle pointed out.
“No?”
“No.” LB turned dramatically to look at me. I hate that. “Chunglie could ask his old friends who did it.”
The marshal looked at me.
“I thought we were going back to the office to study that holo-render,” I said, trying to dodge.
“Well,” LB pointed out, “the Full Mental Packet is just across the road from the office, so…”
“Look, my friends are the people in the bar,” I said quickly. “The people who would know about this are in the lounge. If I’m going in there, you two better head to the office.”
“No, we’re coming too,” Marshal Harry said. She made expression three which means nothing anyone says will change her mind.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
CHAPTER 14
“My old friends hire themselves out for misadventure,” I pointed out, attempting to keep the marshal safe. “The people in the lounge do the hiring. They are violently opposed to answering questions.”
“We’re coming in,” Harry said. She looked up at the lopsided bar sign. There were safer places to stand. Inside an industrial meat grinder, for one. The night sky silhouetted the single-story building and the sounds from the bar were fun, warm, and attractive. The quiet coming from the lounge side indicated serious scheming was being schemed.
“Wish I hadn’t mentioned it now,” LB said. I pushed through the swing doors and he followed us in, so fair play to the old fellow’s nerve.
The lounge was in full swing. The holo-band in the corner were broadcasting to the cyber systems of the listeners and appeared to make no sound as they aggressively worked their instruments. Lighting was minimal, enough to find your drink or seat but not enough to identify faces. The booths along each wall held the captains of my old industry, plus sidekicks and bodyguards. Armed and dangerous described every single one of them. Daisy Tubes wheeled over to me.
“You are not allowed in the lounge,” she said. “You know the code, Chunglie.”
“He’s with me,” Marshal Harry said. She was standing very erect, shoulders back and chin raised. But courage doesn’t make you bulletproof.
“Marshal, for your own safety, you can’t be in here either,” Daisy said. She was a decommissioned warbot. The first owner of the bar bought her cheap, added arms, and used her as head waitress. Over the centuries, a gingham dress and red plastic lips were added between the twin anti-aircraft guns that made up her head. I noticed there was a new addition.
“The blonde pigtails suit you,” I said, because it never pays to piss off the bar staff.
“They do, don’t they?” Daisy said, spinning her turret back and forth, which made the braids swing. “Fetch Bolson welded them on for me. Oh, here he is now.”
“That,” I pointed a claw at the short human approaching us, “is the sidekick of the most dangerous man in this room. Be careful what you say, Marshal.”
“Fetch is a very nice man,” Daisy said. “And he is mostly human, so you have that in common.”
“He is a very nice man,” I agreed in a whisper. “Famous for it. But also the BFF of the most dangerous man in this room.”
“Hello,” Bolson said, holding a hand out to the marshal. They shook in greeting; it’s a human thing. “Captain Jenx was sorry to hear about the incident earlier today and says he will help in any way he can.”
Silence. Everyone who had made a show of not noticing our entrance stopped talking and moving. Marshal Harry walked to the middle of the lounge. I moved a claw to the handle of my duckfoot pistol.
“We were shot at earlier today. Tomorrow morning, this town will be full of marshals asking the same questions: who were the deceased and who hired them. But someone in here knows who did it and I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
“Brave words for an unarmed lawman,” a gruff voice laughed. They pulled weapons from holsters. I reared up and pulled the duckfoot pistol and Trembling Bob.
“One shot at the marshal and I blow this building to dust,” I said.
“No, no, no! Let us not be hasty, anyone,” Bolson said, waving his hands. “We’re all friends here, right?”
“We’re not friends of the law,” someone said. “Get out of our bar while you can, lawman.”
“No. Not until I get what I came for,” the marshal said.
“I see you, Burryacker,” I said, pointing Trembling Bob into his booth. ”I’ll drop you first if anyone makes a move.”
That had them thinking. I hoped we’d get out alive when a crabform climbed up and straddled the booth with her long legs. She had a blaster in each claw.
“I am Dread Nebula. I got a death sentence in three systems,” she bragged. “What makes you think you can stroll in here and order me around?”
I ran my Marshal Service ID recognition app and got hits.
“Can I correct you there, Dreadly Cowpepper Nebula?” I said. “You have one outstanding fine in the Morl 22 system and that is all.”
Heads turned. Nebula’s reputation had just been trashed. She reared up, throwing her claws around. “You call me a liar? I will—"
I pointed my duckfoot pistol at her and was pulling the trigger when a voice said: “Enough.”
I recognised the voice and let the trigger go. A shadow moved and darkness stepped out behind the marshal. Anyone can wear black, but Captain Jenx wore the shadows of the room. He walked like royalty. Rumour had it his father was the last Duke of the Spice worlds, so that would explain the walk.
“Sit down, shut up,” he told Nebula. “And if you have to tell people you are dangerous, you probably aren’t.”
I got between him and the marshal as fast as I could scurry. At three metres tall, he towered above us both. Jenx glanced back at Nebula. She sat down.
“Sir, stay back… Please. The marshal doesn’t know this place, she’s just trying to—"
“Chunglie, stop prattling,” Jenx said. His hand never went near the gun holstered on his thigh. It didn’t need to. They said he was so fast you didn’t see him move when he shot you. My crop was dry and my bowels tried to vacate the premises as I stood before the one person in the room I could not beat in a gunfight.
“The Queen of Shaws is my friend,” he said to the room. “Someone endangered her egg chamber in that firefight, so you will answer the marshal’s questions or answer to me. Make your choice.”
Others growl and threaten or draw a gun and wave it around; Jenx did neither. He stood surrounded by armed beings of all shapes and sizes, and he was the threat. Three figures stepped from a booth. They were hip high to the marshal, with thick brown fur, and two of them carried the third on their shoulders.
“I am Rodeldour of the Rodeldour,” said the one riding the shoulders. “We saw that ship firing as we entered orbit. I have just now sent our sensor logs to the marshal’s office. We have had good trading with the Queen of Shaws. Please give her my word that we would have intervened had we known her danger.”
The two Rodeldour bearers turned in unison and carried the chief back to his booth. Must admit, I’d never seen that before, but it takes all sorts. The silence stretched while Marshal Harry checked the office mail.
“Thank you for the information, but the ship was not broadcasting a registration code,” she noted. “So that doesn`t tell us who they were.”
I would have winced if I had facial muscles. We were alive, no one was shooting, so time to leave? Not for the marshal.
“Chunglie?” a gruff voice I would recognise anywhere said. “What’re you doing in the lounge?”
Captain Horton took up a whole corner of the room on his own. One eye glowed red while the other was just red.
“Is that a laser eye blaster?” I asked. He had been a hero of a revolution and later the most feared pirate in the system. But that was the good old days. I’d heard he couldn’t stay out of a bottle..
“Yes, just got it last week,” Horton said. His trunk waved around the room. “Maybe I’ll get some respect around here now.”
He sneezed and a beam of red light sliced his table in half.
“That table’s going on your bill,” Daisy Tubes called.
“Sorry, sorry, I can’t see when the damn safety catch is off.” He poked the eye with a pinkie.
“Captain, we’re looking for a ship that fired on the Queen of Shaws’ egg chamber,” I said. “Do you know anything about that? For the Queen? You know she and I are close.”
“I know those brown farters,” he said. “Seen `em shooting. They were laughing at me as we left port last week. My old ship’s not the style anymore.”
“Hey, the Elbeedee will always be in style.”
“Did the people who laughed at you attack the port today, sir?” Marshal Harry asked. “Would you know where they were based on Smuds?”
“Where who?” Horton was too drunk to keep up with the conversation.
“Breaks my heart to see you like this, Captain,” I said. “Was a time no one dared laugh at you.”
“You are right, Chunglie. No one has any respect anymore.” He tried to get up, hit his head on the ceiling, and sat back down. “Was a time these ceilings were higher.”
“Sir, those people who were laughing at you last week? Who were they?” Marshal Harry asked again.
When Harry Met Chunglie Box Set Page 29