by S. H. Jucha
The audience was stunned into silence by the revelation but only momentarily.
Henry recognized a retired captain, who asked, “Envoy, could you summarize what the files directed the Belle’s captain to do?”
“Certainly, Captain,” Harbour replied. “The Belle’s captain was to wait until every colonist was revived. Then he was to organize a slate of individuals who would stand for election as representatives. These representatives would constitute an Assembly and would enact the new laws of the society. The files that were taken supposedly contained a comprehensive set of basic laws that were to be the foundation of the new government. A president would be elected at the same time as the Assembly delegates. The president’s term was to be five years. Judges would also be elected by the colonists to serve for eight years. This balance of power was outlined in detail within the documents, some of which are missing, but most of which remain in the library. Apparently, a determined ship’s officer hid these crucial documents from those individuals intent on preventing the establishment of this form of government.
Many who were seated near the family heads turned to regard them. There was little doubt about who would have benefited from hiding the files.
Dorelyn realized that she had to say something. She stood to be recognized. When Henry did so, she directed her comments to the audience-at-large. She said, “Why should we upset our present circumstances to begin all over again? It would create chaos. Is that what we want?”
“I think the question of whether we keep the dysfunctional and unfavorable structure we have now or whether we choose a more equitable structure should be left to our citizens to choose,” Harbour replied.
Dorelyn received a good indication of the audience’s receptiveness to Harbour’s proposal. While a great portion remained silent, others, especially spacers, enthusiastically applauded.
Dorelyn glanced to her left at Idrian and then to her right at Rufus. Their expressions mirrored her own. Elected representatives and a unified government would spell the end of the families’ power. It would also mean a common security force, which at some future point would lead to the discovery of the families’ many ugly secrets.
“Aren’t you going to challenge her?” Rufus growled quietly at Dorelyn.
“Don’t be foolish,” Dorelyn snapped back. “Listen to this audience. If we’re going to do anything, it won’t be a political action. This needs to be stopped before it gains traction.”
“Let’s hope the envoy and her advisor will be explorers again,” Rufus grumbled. “Maybe they won’t return.”
-12-
Sika’s Targets
Sika entered her mistress’s office, waited for a signal, and then sat on the edge of a chair, with her knees together and ankles crossed. She’d learned that this posture demonstrated passivity, which she preferred to project.
If there was one person who held power over Sika’s life, it was Dorelyn Gaylan, her mistress. However, Sika didn’t fear her. She didn’t fear anyone, but she did want to live. To further that aim, Sika had prepared several exit plans. Each version depended on her secretly reaching the JOS and placing her out of the immediate reach of Dorelyn.
“Do you know these two people?” Dorelyn asked, turning her monitor toward Sika.
“Yes, mistress,” Sika replied. “That’s the envoy and her advisor.”
“They need to be eliminated,” Dorelyn said. “It’s possible that they will lead an exploration of the Messinants domes to determine the Colony’s expansion. If they do, they might not survive. However, if they return, you must be ready.”
“They will be extremely difficult targets,” Sika replied. “If I try to remove them one at a time, it will raise an alarm, and they will be heavily guarded, if not placed out of my reach. This necessitates removing them both, which means I’ll have only one opportunity for two targets.”
“Is there a problem?” Dorelyn asked.
“I see two,” Sika replied. “These are prominent people. Removing them might necessitate an obvious and dramatic approach.”
“I’m good with that,” Dorelyn said, “and the second.”
“Escape will be difficult,” Sika said.
“You’re the best I’ve ever seen, Sika,” Dorelyn said, switching to a motherly tone. “I’m confident that you’ll succeed in your mission and return to me safely.”
“Yes, mistress,” Sika replied. She stood, nodded, and noiselessly left the office.
After returning to her room, Sika considered Dorelyn’s assignment. Executions of the envoy and her advisor weren’t impossible. It was the escape that was improbable, and she had no intention of succeeding in her mission only to spend the remainder of her life in a security cell.
Part of Sika did appreciate the challenge. Her mind worked to solve the puzzle of her approach to her victims. It seemed best to establish a familiar presence before the pair left to explore the domes. That was something her mistress was wrong about. There was no question of possibility — the envoy would explore, and her advisor would follow.
Sika was fascinated by the envoy. She’d often wondered if an empath could help her feel like others did. Little did she know that her brain was incapable of being rewired in that manner.
However, Sika didn’t feel sad about eliminating the envoy and the advisor. It was her assigned task and completing it as expected ensured the protection of her mistress. She would kill the woman and the man, but she was intent on ensuring she could make it downside afterwards.
Preparations included researching her targets, developing her plans, and preparing her kits, and they took Sika days to complete. When she was ready, she slipped a note under Dorelyn’s office door in the early morning hours. It simply said, “Gone,” and was signed “S.”
Dressed as a trendy young downsider, wearing more color than a brightly plumed bird, Sika exited her e-trans at the El’s landing pad. Cargo techs ran to help her with the baggage. She tapped her comm unit to theirs, tipping generously.
Sika’s outfit, or the lack of it, ensured people, mostly males, wouldn’t be examining her face. Her body was slender and toned, and skin showed everywhere.
In case individuals did examine Sika’s face, she’d applied one of the latest mist masks. It laid the makeup in a bright pattern, adding sparkling overtones.
The El car deposited Sika on the JOS station, and she rented a cart to haul her baggage. She checked into a cabin that the family kept rented under a false name and account. Hours later, a middle-aged woman in modest dress, wearing accessories that hinted she was an artist, exited the cabin.
Sika perused shops that supplied artists, chatting about materials and techniques, the studies of which had been part of her preparations. At one shop, she heard a customer say, “I’ve never seen a repeat of the skins that the envoy and the advisor wear.”
The shop proprietor replied, “And you won’t. Makana, who resides aboard the Belle, decorated those skins exclusively for them. This is some of her work over here.” He led the customer to woven tapestries used primarily as wall hangings. They were a popular means of relieving the station’s sterile bulkheads and dampening noise.
Sika believed she’d just heard the means by which she could get close to her targets. She spent days learning the art of weaving. She bought supplies and practiced the vids she downloaded. She readily admitted that her techniques were passable, but her designs were unimaginative. Her efforts appeared mechanical and uninspired compared to Makana’s work that she’d seen on display.
When Sika believed she possessed amateur-level knowledge of the art, she went in search of her intermediate target. She already knew when and where she would find her. It would be a matter of developing her trust.
Within three days, Sika had her opportunity. Makana entered a shop to purchase supplies, while Sika was there. At an appropriate time, she asked Makana’s advice on a set of colors.
“What effect are you trying to achieve?” Makana asked politely.
“I’d like to produce vibrant patterns like the woman who made those hangings,” Sika replied.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Makana said with a smile. “Those are mine.”
“How do you do it?” Sika gushed. “I wouldn’t think those colors would go together, but you make them work. Your art is incredible.”
“I appreciate the praise. I’m Makana. I work aboard the Belle.
“I’m Luna,” Sika replied.
“Is this a hobby for you?” Makana asked.
“It was,” Sika replied. “Now I need it to become my income.” She paused, as if considering what to say. Tears rolled up in her eyes, and she was short of breath. The capsule she’d bitten manifested the physiological symptoms she required.
“It’s okay,” Makana sympathized. She hugged the woman and said, “Why don’t you and I get something to eat, while we talk?”
Over a midday meal, Sika told the story of her husband, a third mate on a mining ship. An accident had taken his life. She hadn’t saved much coin, and she was desperate for a source of income.
Makana was moved by Sika’s story. “Luna, can I see some images of your work?” she asked.
Sika displayed three of her attempts, intermixed with one that was hanging on her cabin bulkhead.
“Well, you’re certainly competent,” Makana said. “The weaves look tight, organized, and linear.”
“But they’re unimaginative,” Sika replied in a muffled wail.
“No, no, Luna,” Makana said, trying to calm the distraught woman. She could remember when she struggled for coin, despite her skills. Harbour had changed the life of every individual who resided aboard the Belle.
Makana turned Sika’s comm unit toward her. “This one,” she said. “This one has style. It’s strong.”
“I made that one soon after my husband died. I’m afraid I was drinking a bit,” Sika lied.
“Maybe you should drink a little more often,” Makana teased. She was heartened when Sika chuckled. “Perhaps, you need a break in life.”
“I need a miracle,” Sika replied, dabbing at her eyes. “I’ve enough coin for three more months. Then I move inward and cabin share.”
“How would you like to become my apprentice?” Makana asked.
“I couldn’t impose on you,” Sika replied, displaying a combination of hope and regret that she’d practiced in the mirror many times. She’d secretly recorded others and played the imagery so that she had something to imitate.
“Does that mean you don’t want to learn from me?” Makana asked. She twitched her eyebrows up and down several times, daring Sika not to accept her offer.
“I’d love to learn from you, Makana,” Sika replied, projecting her earnest face. “I don’t have the coin to pay you.”
“Apprentices don’t pay their teachers,” Makana said gently. “You can live aboard the Belle. Room and board will be free. You’ll have work assigned to you, but in your off time, I’ll teach you my art. When you start earning coin for your work, you can choose to stay aboard the ship or return to the JOS.”
Sika made a show of leaning across the tiny table, disturbing their dishes, and hugging Makana.
“When can we do this?” Sika asked.
“How soon can you pack?” Makana responded.
“In two hours,” Sika replied. “I’ve sold off everything I could spare.”
Makana gave Sika the terminal arm and gate for the Belle’s shuttle, and the women promised to meet there later in the day.
* * * *
Lori tapped on Cecilia’s door, and said, “Lieutenant, I need to show you something.”
Cecilia followed Lori back to her desk.
“I’ve been monitoring the detection program you installed, Lieutenant,” Lori said, as they walked.
“You got a hit?” Cecilia asked excitedly.
“Not really,” Lori admitted.
At Lori’s desk, Cecilia pulled up a chair to view Lori’s monitor.
“Your original parameters were set a little tight for matching,” Lori explained. “I got to thinking that this killer might use multiple disguises during her time on station.”
“More than likely, she’d not want to be recognized coming aboard the JOS, and she might use one of her fullest disguises. That’s good thinking, Lori,” Cecilia said, laying a hand on the corporal’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Lori replied. “I widened your parameters and ran through the past few weeks of station vids. I got nothing. It wasn’t until my third attempt at even looser parameters that I got some hits.”
“You ran the entire station’s security vids?” Cecilia asked in surprise.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Lori replied. “We’ve no idea how she might appear, or how heavily she might disguise herself.”
“What settings did you use?” Cecilia inquired.
“The last search was for a female, adult, and a seventy-percent facial recognition,” Lori replied with an apologetic shrug.
“Ouch. Get many hits?” Cecilia asked facetiously.
“A bunch,” Lori admitted. “Here’s the thing though. I ran every one of them through station security. Four didn’t get a match. Three were men, and I passed those to investigators under Lieutenant Rodriguez. The fourth was a woman.”
Cecilia regarded Lori. She made a mental note to review the corporal’s administration files. There were openings for sergeants, and Cecelia thought to recommend Lori for advancement. Cecilia examined the female who Lori displayed. “Certainly doesn’t look like either of the two faces we’ve identified,” she said.
“If this is her, she’s good,” Lori admitted reluctantly.
“Nothing on her in security records?” Cecilia asked, requesting confirmation.
“Nothing,” Lori replied. “She’s dressed kind of artsy, isn’t she? Could she be from the Belle?”
“That’s a distinct possibility,” Cecilia replied. “Security’s records aren’t complete when it comes to the Belle’s residents, but that’s something for our new commandant to address with the envoy. Nonetheless, I want to talk to this woman. Locate her and escort her to security administration. Take someone big with you. Be nice, but be careful.”
Lori searched security vids for various images of the woman. She located her entering a cabin in an inner ring, and she tasked two agents to accompany her.
At the cabin, Lori accessed the door panel and announced her presence. When there was no reply, she tapped the visitor icon again, and said, “This is station security. We’ll make entry if you don’t answer.”
When there was still no reply, Lori shook her head in exasperation.
“Panel says she’s in residence,” one agent remarked. “Maybe she’s hard of hearing or using the facilities.”
“Could be,” Lori allowed. “Let’s hope we don’t scare a naked Belle resident to death. I’d hate to irate the envoy.”
“None of us do,” the other agent added.
Lori waited a few more moments. Then she overrode the panel with her security code. The cabin door slid aside, and the threesome took a few steps inside.
“Don’t move,” Lori suddenly ordered. She grabbed her comm unit and made an urgent call.
“Yes, Lori,” Cecilia replied to the priority call.
“We missed her, Lieutenant,” Lori said angrily. “I think we missed our assassin.”
“Where are you?” Cecilia queried. She tapped on Miguel’s office window and hurriedly beckoned him to follow her.
Miguel raced to catch up with Cecilia, who’d exited security administration and ran down the main corridor.
The lieutenants met Lori and the officers outside the cabin. The door was open.
“Report, Lori,” Cecilia requested. Miguel and she were breathing hard from their exertion.
“Panel’s been rigged,” Lori began. “It’s reporting that a person was in residence, but there’s no one home.”
“Panel failure?” Miguel asked.
“Possible,”
Lori allowed. “Tech services can tell us if it’s deliberate or not. The place is bare, and there’s the smell of DAD disinfectant. Someone wanted to destroy the DNA of any cellular deposits.”
“Could be we’re dealing with a smuggler,” Miguel proffered.
Cecilia kept silent during Miguel’s role of advocate for alternative explanations. She wanted the killer, but she didn’t want to rush to judgment.
However, Cecilia had facts of her own. She said, “Our suspect is a female, and security has no historic records on her. That makes her a downsider or a Belle resident.”
Miguel accessed his comm unit and checked the cabin’s lease status. “Cabin is rented on a monthly basis,” he reported. “Name on the lease and the account are false.”
“Downsider,” Lori pronounced.
“A DAD sweep for DNA will probably be useless,” Miguel mused.
Cecilia eyed the two officers. “Sweep it anyway,” she ordered. “If you find any viable samples, transfer them to Lori. She’ll log them into evidence.”
“Lori, you’re with me,” Cecilia said. “Miguel, can you wrap up here?”
Miguel touched two fingers to his brow, and Cecilia grinned at the spacer’s salute. Then she hurried off with Lori in tow.
“What was the date-time stamp of the last vid of our suspect?” Cecilia asked, as they wound through the corridors toward security.
“I didn’t research that, Lieutenant,” Lori replied. “I thought we were going to the cabin to escort a middle-aged woman to an interview.”