Across Our Stars: Victor

by A. Payne

  He fumbled with his tools and took a sample from the blood, blinking a few times to clear his vision and squint at the streaky blur of numbers glowing from the display. “Someone read these results out loud to me so I know what I’ve been poisoned with.”

  “Allow me.” Fairchild crouched down beside Victor. “Doctor Matthews and I put together a kit based on known planetary hazards.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Fairchild. I knew I wanted you on this team for a reason.” By the time they narrowed down the proper antidote, he lacked control of his fingers to press the plunger on the antivenin. If there was one thing Victor despised, it was being on the receiving end of his profession.

  “You good to continue, del Toro?” Daniels regarded both injured men. “Williams, you stay here with Lopez. Fairchild, unless the Commander needs you elsewhere, I’d prefer you remain as well.”

  “I’m good.” Victor shook it off and rose to his feet. “I’d like Fairchild to remain with him as well. Get him to the rockskipper.”

  Daniels looked him over and nodded. “I’ll take my team through the west buildings as planned. We’ll meet up on the northern strip. Let’s move out before the wargs decide the fire is an acceptable risk.”

  They swept through the village, occasionally picking off a straggler that came bounding from cover. Rogers covered them from above with his rifle. Occasionally, he hit one.

  “Next time, we leave Raines in the shuttle, too. I see why that kid is the pilot.” Victor muttered.

  Daniels grunted something that sounded like agreement.

  “Hey! I’m doing the best I can while piloting a bloody hovercraft.”

  A nervous chuckle passed over the divided squad. They reported to each other over the wireless commlink, pointing out the signs of ambushes and assaults. Bullet holes marked a few wooden market stalls, and blood stained the stone walls.

  “This heat is stifling. Why would anyone willingly choose to live here?” Jackson asked. “I find it hard to believe someone would self-inflict this kind of torture.”

  Victor silently agreed. Perspiration dripped into his eyes, but no sooner did he wipe it away did another droplet bead from his brow to replace it.

  “I heard the population on Loki 4 recently reached one billion. They’d prefer not to overcrowd their planet like our Earthen ancestors. That should be celebrated,” Saskia replied. “It’s only a little heat. Toughen up.”

  Their continued search turned up few answers, and even more empty buildings.

  “Not a single child. Usually in a raid, someone gets away to hide in a closet or a basement storeroom,” Victor muttered as the group met at the city hall’s stone-carved steps. “At least one. There isn’t a single survivor here.”

  “Have you witnessed that often?” Chang asked.

  The commanders glanced at each other, but Daniels spoke first. “Not recently, but a few years ago during the war with the ASR, my team found a little girl hiding with her mother in the closet. We almost left her behind, too. She was playing dead under the corpse.”

  “Shit,” Abernathy uttered.

  “We’re performing vital scans in every room we enter. There’s nothing here so far,” Victor spoke up. “We’ll spread out and continue to sweep toward the outlying farms.”

  “Sirs,” Zoe stepped into the doorway. “You’re going to want to see this.”

  Victor and Daniels followed the young woman to a large house bordering the central square. Davis met them inside, her face solemn and pale.

  “We found six corpses, sir. All were killed execution style with a single bullet to the back of the head,” the medic informed them. “One of them is the governor.”

  Daniels swore and stopped on the threshold, grimacing. “What a stench.”

  The bloated bodies formed a haphazard line across the middle of the floor in a large office. “These corpses are several days… ripe,” Davis muttered. She removed masks from her kit for the members of the assault squad.

  Victor hastily placed his filtered mask over his nose and mouth. Heat from the steamy atmosphere outside poured through the windows and helped to putrefy the bodies, expediting the rot.

  “Could it be pirates? The homes were also looted,”

  “Pirates aren’t usually murderers, too. They rob and dash.”

  “Could be slavers. The city hall indicated this colony’s documented population is 594 people,” Abernathy said. “That makes 588 unaccounted for individuals.”

  “Slavers wouldn’t trouble themselves with looting,” Victor said. “An adult human male goes for five thousand quid on the market. Ten if we’re doing our bloody jobs and they’re unable to meet the current demand.”

  “Would take a pretty big ship, too, taking that many people.” Zoe chimed in. “Most slave rings I’ve come across in the past were small operations. Fifty people taken at most, but usually more like ten.”

  “Two ships.” Saskia stepped into the room without acknowledging the dead bodies splayed out on the floor. “I followed rover tracks out to the canyons. Based on the ground marks, I say they had two ships land out of sight.”

  “That’s more info than we had before,” Daniels said. “All right, we’ll take the bodies onboard with us. Maybe you can learn more from them in your medical labs.”

  “In every old horror movie I’ve ever watched set in our time frame, taking corpses aboard a ship is a recipe for disaster. We’ll examine them here, Commander,” Victor said politely.

  “He doesn’t want chest-busters.” Zoe bit back her grin. “Can’t say I blame him.”

  Victor winked at her. “Damn straight. We brought mobile scanners with us. Prepare to sit for a while.”

  A while was an understatement. Victor and the rest of the medical crew toiled over the corpses for hours. Multiple biologic scans revealed no underlying diseases, parasites, or trauma. Forensic examinations failed to yield anything pertinent and lacked any useful physical evidence about the perpetrators. They only learned that a single shot to the brain ended each life.

  “Wait. This one’s different from the others,” Victor muttered. He raised mobile examination table a little higher and swung around the magnifying glass. “Here. He’s the only one who lacks an exit wound. And the point of entry is also cauterized.”

  “Yeah, so?” Daniels asked. “What’s that mean?”

  “This is typical of old world bullets. A lot of older relics penetrated the skull and became lodged in the brain matter. It remains common now with non-military grade firearms. That isn’t the case with those five.”

  “They were definitely killed with black market weapons, sir. These are military-issued tungsten steel rounds,” Zoe spoke up. By Imperial decree, civilians were only allowed shotguns, revolvers, and hunting rifles.

  “That doesn’t explain why his skull looks like it was roasted over a barbecue,” Daniels pointed out.

  “That particular trait is common from the 2200s. Before parliament banned it, the rich favored guns with overpriced bullet effects. Plain metal wasn’t enough for them; they wanted flame rounds,” Zoe explained.

  Daniels thoughtfully stroked his closely groomed goatee. “I can’t see why our killer would change guns mid-execution. So we had more than one shooter? What does that mean for our investigation?”

  Victor straightened from his kneel beside the victim. “It means one of them uses incredibly rare antiques. We trace the pistol, and maybe we can find the killer.”

  “We found the rest of the colonists,” Lopez reported over the comm. “The school gym is packed full of bodies. Preliminary scans indicate no one left alive.”

  “I thought we ordered you back to the ship,” Daniels said.

  “Sorry about that, sir. We spotted the building on the way to meet up with Rogers and had a look.”

  “Are you up for moving around like that, mate?” Victor asked over the link.

  “You did a bloody brilliant job, Doc. Never better. I can’t say the same for these poor folk.”

&nb
sp; “It’s a real butcher job, Commander,” Fairchild joined in.

  “We’re on our way.”

  Contrary to what Lopez believed, the victims in the school gymnasium were a far cry from accounting for the rest of the townspeople. Their numbers totaled one hundred and sixty-two in all and every single corpse had been littered with bullet holes in a haphazard pattern.

  While Victor and the rest of medical swept through the very stinky discovery, Daniels remained behind with Abernathy to investigate the city hall records.

  “Upload the citizen registry to our link up and we’ll begin the identification process,” Victor told his fellow commander.

  “You should have it in a minute.”

  These people never stood a chance, Victor mused in somber silence. He went from body to body, checking for signs of life before taking a DNA sample to compare against the registry.

  “Loki 4 is home to an unusually large number of psychics among their population. Since these people are overflow from the planet, they should have the same traits,” Fairchild pointed out.

  “What are you getting at?” Zoe asked. She worked to move the bodies into neatly laid out rows with the assistance of her fellow marines.

  “Well, I’ve scanned almost everyone in the room and not a single one is registered as a psychic.”

  Victor glanced up from his readout. “I haven’t noted any cybernetics among the victims either. Statistically speaking we should have had at least a handful by now even if they are from a green planet.”

  “So we have slavers taking their choice of cyborgs and psychics now?” The frustration in Daniels’ voice carried over the comm.

  “Seems like it. Kids, too. Not a single body under the age of thirteen among the rest,” Fairchild added.

  “This wasn’t a raid,” Victor said. “It was a culling.”

  Chapter 5

  Fan blades whirred overhead, circulating the stuffy air in the armory chamber. Zoe and Saskia sat side by side at the weapons room’s main terminal, fixated upon the important task delegated to them by Commander Daniels.

  Finally. Something I can do without that ornery bastard standing over my shoulder.

  Zoe finished programming in the holographic settings and turned to her companion. “Right. So the Commodore received authorization from New Cambridge to allow us virtual access to their special firearms collection.”

  “Excellent.” Saskia rubbed her palms together. “I saw that display once. Always wanted to get my hands on them, real or not.”

  “These are early 21st century firearms modified for use with pyro rounds.” Zoe gestured to the five different weapons and a variety of ammunition clips. “We narrowed it down to these based off the cauterized wounds.”

  “All right, I’ve finished with my part, lassies. Let’s do this.” Trevor inserted a chip into the console’s dataport and stepped away from the expensive rig. Every department, down to the armory and the food service quarters, possessed access to the Jemison’s internet services, but no one received the best speeds and clarity without Trevor’s authorization.

  “Excellent,” Saskia said. “I also had Rogers conduct some scans of the flight zone. The moon isn’t equipped with a proper shuttle landing space since it’s a new colony and they’re green… but the flight craft responsible for the abductions left a unique set of markings in the terrain.”

  “I’ve drawn up some possible ships as well.” Trevor’s big grin shaved a few years from his handsome face. At a glance, the dark-haired communications chief resembled a native from the land of Xiao, but his accent sounded as English as their Commodore.

  Not that Zoe planned to make that mistake again. She learned a dozen new swear words that day, accompanied by a rant about Trevor’s proud Scottish ancestry. She’d never call him English again.

  “Guns first. Then we can play ‘name that ship’ and hope we come up with something,” Zoe said.

  “Have it your way,” Trevor mumbled.

  “Good plan,” Saskia agreed.

  “Are we ready then?” Zoe’s grin dimpled her cheeks. She pulled the visor down over her eyes and stepped up to the shooting range. “Run the program.”

  The virtual reality program materialized, creating an exact replica of the comfortable dining room from the lunar colony. Much like her favorite online game, Zoe experienced everything as if she were physically standing in the location. Saskia and Trevor shimmered into existence beside her.

  “Looks about right to you guys?” Trevor asked. “I did what I could from the scans and photos Sassy took.”

  “Don’t call me Sassy.”

  “Play nice you two,” Zoe laughed. “So… Based on their sprawls and the data from the registry, do you think the computer can recreate everything?”

  Trevor scoffed and dragged a menu from the console. “We have some of the best forensics programs available. Along with the intel gathered by Doctor del Toro’s medics, it looks like they were dead for at least five days.”

  The program recreated the murder scene and pulled each of the six victims into position. A blank silhouette stood behind the governor, representing the murderer.

  Zoe lifted an Old Earth model pistol from the case and looked it over. They tested various models of guns capable of firing the bullet responsible for cooking the victim’s brain.

  “I’m going with the assumption that our perp favored this beauty,” Zoe said, picking up an old Smith & Wesson.

  “I have last year’s model of that,” Trevor commented idly. He whistled. “Couple hundred years makes quite the difference, doesn’t it?”

  “My dad collected a few old guns. He let me shoot them once. Mom was right pissed about it, too. She said guns weren’t proper for a lady.” Zoe shrugged and moved behind the recreated image.

  “Trajectory of the round and the blood splatter suggests a slight downwards angle on the entry and that the governor was standing,” Saskia said.

  “So we’re looking for one tall bastard then,” Trevor replied. “He left a partial boot print too. Size 13.5.”

  “Bigger than the commander.”

  “Aye. Victor wears a 12. This guy has him beat. Maybe…” Trevor glanced at the silhouette again. “By about four inches, maybe five. I can run a check through the known criminal database for unusually tall pirate bosses.”

  “Victor?” Saskia asked.

  “Uh. Del Toro, I mean. Commander del Toro.” Trevor rubbed his face and glanced away, red-cheeked.

  Zoe arched a brow. “How do you know what shoe size he wears?”

  “Man crush.” Saskia maintained a stoic and solemn expression.

  “Look, I see him a lot for my migraines, and I had to borrow a pair of boots the other day for a surprise inspection because mine are an awful mess. He wears two sizes larger than me. Felt like wearing clown shoes.”

  The two women exchanged looks and failed to withhold their laughter.

  “Shaddup you two. Bullets. Guns. You like this stuff. Back to our task.”

  Zoe snickered and armed their programmed assailant with the pistol. “Right. Okay, let’s try this again. Start at the yard mark then move to a close and personal shot.”

  It was hard to watch. Zoe had killed before and would do so again in service of the Empire, but she never numbed herself to it. The artificial spray of blood spattered against her boots.

  “I think we have a winner,” Saskia announced. The woman crouched down beside the corpse and compared it to the outline of the original body. “Good call, Zoe. There’s some slight variance, but it’s impossible to recreate the air conditions at the moment of death.”

  “So someone with a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson from the early 21st century. There can’t be too many of those in working condition.” Trevor turned the weapon over in his hands. “I mean, they were outdated when we left Earth behind a couple decades later.”

  “Don’t all guns from that era fire the same? How do we know it isn’t another handgun with a special kit?” Saskia asked.


  “You’d think so. The differences are marginable by their Neanderthal standards,” Trevor muttered. “But this program accounts for a thousand variables and picks up on the fine differences in force and gunpowder residue. The burn around the entry point before it penetrated the cerebral and the depth of cooked brain matter–”

  “That’s enough,” Zoe said, cutting him off quickly. Her stomach twisted until she inevitably looked away from the fake corpse. “It’s time to move on to the ships.” She terminated the gun program after a last indulgent look. I’d love to spend an hour with these just in a training run.

  Fortunately, their efforts to cross-reference wanted pirate ships involved a less macabre exploration.

  “A Valkyrie could hold 500 slaves easily,” Trevor commented idly. “And it has the speed, but a pirate’s not likely to own one and none were recently stolen.”

  “The Mercury 2400 is swift. My last cruiser pursued a mercenary crew for nearly two days. Swift, large, poor fuel capacity.” Saskia pulled up the ship specifications.

  Once the trio wrapped up the remaining results of their investigation efforts, the two women delegated Trevor the task of reporting their findings then they split from his company.

  “I think Lockhart is sweet on you,” Zoe teased once they reached the hallway and left their comrade behind.

  “Him? I doubt it,” Saskia murmured. Her lips pursed thoughtfully. As they traveled the hall, her fair skin picked up hints of the metallic walls in the corridor, reflecting gunmetal grey.

  “Why not? You’re a great catch, Saskia.”

  “You don’t know?”

  Zoe shook her head. “Know what?”

  “I share a room with Monica Breckinridge, and she had a lot to say about Lockhart. She’s off her trolley, but you can trust she’s got the most accurate gossip out of the entire lot.”

  “Sounds like a few of my bunkmates.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “So what did she have to say?”

  “He had a wee little one, and she died during his first deployment a few years ago. His marriage didn’t survive it,” Saskia informed her quietly, her voice barely a whisper.