Winter

by James Wittenbach

  “Maybe on his world, this is an appropriate way to respond.”

  “We should look into that.”

  “When are we gonna go talk to him, anyway?”

  “No hurry, they’re holding his ship. He’s not going any place, and if he’s guilty, the wait will rattle him, or give him time to make up an alibi we can shoot holes in later. What else do we know about the victim, Manchester?”

  Brickbat checked his notepad. “Migrated here from Hibernia. Used to be a librarian. No family.

  Inhabitant of the Village of Lighthouses on Sequester Island.”

  “Lighthouses? That’s at least ten days journey from here.”

  “Manchester was staying at one of the nearby estates when Tyronius announced his guests had arrived.”

  “Which estate?”

  Brickbat checked. “Last known address was the Estate of Lord Oskkokk. About 200 klicks north of here on the Surekill Glacier River.”

  Lambrusco nodded. “Let’s see if we can have a chat with Lord Oskkokk.”

  Pegasus – Fast Eddie’s InterStellar Slam-n-Jam A glass flew across Fast Eddie’s ISS&J and smashed over the booth where Eddie Roebuck was sitting with Matthew Driver and Eliza Jane Change. Eddie stood and yelled at the small metal robot behind the bar. “Keep it up, homunculus. I think somebody has a great future as a waste processor.”

  “Have you figured out what’s going on with Puck?” Eliza asked as Eddie settled down at the table once again. It was late afternoon, but they were all drinking perfectly innocent fruit juices.

  “Technical Core came back with a diagnosis: Robot Adaptive Personality Disorder,” Eddie explained.

  “See how I am? I had Falconer program Puck with some kind of slag that makes him adapt to my personality, so he can anticipate my moods, and so I don’t have to explain things twice to him. First, it was great. Anyway, over time, this program adapts the robot to the man he hangs with, and the robot adapts itself completely to the owner’s personality.”

  “But, you don’t throw things,” Matthew pointed out.

  “Puck can’t verbalize, but he can get frustrated,” Roebuck explained, as some terrible noises came from the direction of the frozen drink machine. “Lethal combination. Excuse me a minute.” Eddie stood another time. “You better be mixing Bodicéan Fanny-Bangers,” he shouted at Puck.

  “Bodicéan Fanny-Bangers?” Change asked.

  “Za,” said Eddie. “It’s a ladies’ drink.”

  “So, what happened down on the planet last night?” Change asked. “Why did I have to authorize a semi-emergency evacuation?”

  Matthew turned slightly red. In anyone else, this might have suggested embarrassment, but both Eliza and Eddie knew that Matthew was incapable of embarrassing himself. So, he was embarrassed for someone else. “I really can’t say.”

  “Flight Commandant Jordan’s kid was molested by one of the natives,” Eddie Roebuck filled in. “The kid and his mom evacuated the planet. Then, Commander Redfire decked the guy.”

  “How do you know all that?” Driver asked.

  “The Chief Guardian never misses wet flight suit night,” Eddie explained.

  “Wet flight suit night?” Matthew asked.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but it has nothing to do with absorbency,” Eddie told him. “What about the punch up? Did you see any of it?”

  “Nay,” Matthew admitted. “I was on the other side of the room.”

  “Good on TyroCommander Redfire,” Eddie said raising his glass in a mild salute. “I’d have smashed the guy, too.”

  “But not Matthew,” Eliza said, kind of teasingly. “Matthew’s a good Republicker, and he would trust the planetary law enforcement and public safety officials to see that the offender was appropriately punished and subsequently rehabilitated, right Matthew.”

  Driver was under the vague impression his masculinity was being questioned. “I wouldn’t sink to his level, but I would make sure he was appropriately punished,” he said. Eddie snorted and shook his head, Eliza nodded inscrutably, He couldn’t tell if she approved or was amused by his stance.

  “Didn’t Flight Commandant Jordan say anything to you on the trip up?” Eddie went on.

  “I just piloted the ship.” Thinking he detected a slight look of disappointment on Eliza’s face, he thought of something else that might have engaged her. “I took the trip down and back with Trajan Lear in the second seat; the Executive Commander’s son. He’s a flight cadet.”

  “Did you jettison him through an airlock?” Eddie asked.

  “Nay, why would I do a thing like that?”

  Eddie shrugged. “Heard he was kind of a snog. His mother deserves no less, wicked witch of the slagging universe.”

  “He’s a good kid,” said Matthew. “In fact, I am supposed to take him through a training simulation later today.” He leaned back in the booth. “A really good kid, having him around has made me think…, oh, forget it…”

  “Yeah, let’s forget it,” Eliza agreed.

  “Definitely, Let’s forget it. She really is a gorgon, you know? I mean, Ex-Commander Lear.” Matthew did not forget it, nor had he meant to, but they had failed to try and milk it out of him. He continued, “I look at Trajan and I imagine what it would be like to have a kid of my own. Teach him to pilot a ship. Watch him grow into a man. Do you ever think about having kids, Eliza?” Eliza looked sour. “Maybe if you can find somebody else to gestate them.” Matthew tried to decide if she was kidding or not. Technically, what she was saying could be arranged. “Haven’t you ever wanted a family of your own?” he asked her, and not for the first time.

  “Let’s be realistic about this, Matthew,” Eliza said, in her way. Almost a year and a half of courtship, and she still addressed him like a casual acquaintance; had never come up with a cute nickname or a diminutive or anything like that. “I am the ship’s chief navigator. You are a Flight Commander, with an entire Flight Group looking to you for leadership. For us to have children together, one of us would have to step back.”

  Matthew had not thought about this. He didn’t think he could ask Eliza to give up her position. He knew that guiding the ship through hyperspace meant as much to her as Prudence did and possibly more.

  Her life might have no meaning at all without it.

  At the same time though, he was encouraged. At least she’s thinking about it.

  “These high-powered marriages never work,” Eddie Roebuck, turning back toward the bar, and then adding, “Oh, crap.”

  At the bar, Puck was draining some of its yellowish lubricants into a pint glass. “Oh, well done,” said Eddie sarcastically. “Real mature, Puck, real mature.”

  Winter – Habi Zod

  Lambrusco and Brickbat met Oskkokk in the ballroom. The Parliament Ball was regaining momentum. There were 400 Pegasans and perhaps 500 Ancients in the ballroom. If there was any suspicion that one side or the other had murdered Manchester, there was no sign of it in the din and bustle of the ballroom.

  Lambrusco commented on the apathy of the group, and neither his partner nor Lord Oskkokk could hear him. The band was playing, and musicologists from Pegasus were studying the instruments. So, he requested the Lord accompany them to a quieter alcove for the interview. By coincidence, it was the same alcove where Manchester had been punched out by Max Jordan and Phil Redfire a few evenings before.

  Brickbat began the questioning, “We know Manchester was staying at one of the nearer estates, was it yours?”

  Oskkokk, wearing a variation of his previous costume, this one in a black and white pattern with a bright orange cape. “No, Manchester was no longer at my estate.”

  “Had he been staying with you earlier?”

  “Some time ago, late last year, if you must now. He left at the start of Dawnstar.”

  “What was he doing at your estate?” Lambrusco asked. He hated interviewing men in masks. He could never see enough of their faces to know if they were lying.

  “He stayed with me long
enough to harvest some crops, slaughter and cure some meat, and perform certain menial tasks around my estate. He is a villager with few skills and little ambition of his own. He relies on landowners, like me, who require occasional assistance to sustain our properties.”

  “Do you know where he went when he left?” Lambrusco asked.

  “If he did not return to his little house in the village of Lighthouses, I can only presume he went to offer his services to another one of the nearer estates, perhaps to Stormcloud, or Goldenrod, or Brigand, or Churchwhite, perhaps to the Estate of Lord Hasselblad. I know Hasselblad has been attempting to breed Chiraccos as draught animals, sounds like the kind of thing Manchester would … get excited about.”

  “You don’t seem very concerned,” Brickbat said, as though he were making a note of it.

  Oskkokk sighed and looked bored. “Manchester was an itinerant, landless, villager; a weak link on the human chain; a minor godling in our Pantheon of immortals.”

  Lambrusco reiterated the obvious. “You didn’t like him.”

  “I expended precious little energy thinking of him. He was a tool for my estate, nothing more. We had little in common to speak of. He, for example, never mentioned his attraction to adolescent outsider males to me.”

  “You don’t care much for these outsiders, do you?” Brickbat asked.

  “Indeed, no. They have already disturbed the peace of our world. That one of them should kill a man comes as no surprise. The mortals always seek to slay their gods, but they can only slay the weak ones.”

  “So, maybe you’d like to see them leave the planet and never come back, maybe stir up animosity against them, make them unwelcome.”

  Even through the mask, he looked disgusted. “Ridiculous, Tyronius is a lonely old man seeking comfort from people who haven’t grown tired of his arrogance. When his amusement with the outsiders fades, even he will bid them leave, and we will go back to being a world apart from the rest of humanity, as we have always been. Are there any further questions?”

  “Not now,” Lambrusco told him, folding up his notebook. “But don’t leave the estate.”

  “I have no intention of leaving until this most entertaining of dramas plays itself out. Good entertainment has been hard to find the last few millennia. Good day, gentlemen.” Oskkokk, orange cape flowing in the air behind him, stalked off.

  “Charming fellow,” Lambrusco said, as though he had not met Oskkokk several hundred times before.

  “Shall we talk to the commander, now?” Brickbat asked.

  “I think he’s been stewing long enough,” Lambrusco answered.

  Winter – The Aves Chloe

  Redfire had been sitting, overnight bag in the seat next to him, for almost three hours. The two enforcers came through the hatch and admired the ship’s comfortable interior as they wiped the snow from their feet.

  “Commander Redfire, I am Detective Lambrusco and this is Detective Brickbat.” Redfire shook their hands, and regarded them darkly. “Do you mind telling me what this is about so I can get back to my ship?”

  “Sorry to interrupt your travel plans,” Lambrusco snarled. They had sarcasm on Sapphire, but this was a whole different level than Redfire was used to, like the difference between fine wine and grape drink. Also, such cops as there were on mostly-crime-free Sapphire did not have such contemptuous attitudes toward the public. They could not afford to, as they were only paid as a reward from people they helped.

  “No one’s told you what this is about?” Brickbat asked. “I find that difficult to believe. The people of this estate are big-time gossips, and this is the biggest scandal in quite a long time.” Redfire sat a little straighter in his landing couch. “I didn’t feel very social this morning. I came straight to the ship, and I’ve been here ever since. I’m guessing it has something to do with last night, with that old creeper I beat up. I am guessing maybe ExTC Lear thinks I’ve been diplomatically incorrect and owe the man an apology.”

  Brickbat moved to the seat behind him, Lambrusco stayed between Redfire and the hatch, leaving him boxed in. Lambrusco asked the questions. “That’s almost a good guess, Commander Redfire. Where did you go after the party broke up, after you socked Manchester?”

  “I went up to my room.”

  “Did you stay there all night?”

  “Neg, I couldn’t sleep, so, I talk a walk around the grounds.”

  “A walk around the grounds?”

  “That’s right. I felt a disturbance and went to investigate.”

  “A disturbance?”

  “A feeling like someone was following me. I walked around the estate, but couldn’t find anyone, so I returned to my room and meditated until the ship came.”

  Lambrusco continued. “Did you happen to find a secret staircase behind the kitchen, leading up to the Conservatory?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. Why are you asking me theses questions?”

  “It’s our job,” Brickbat answered. “What’s the word on your planet for ‘cop.’“

  “Cop,” Redfire told him.

  “No kidding.”

  “We don’t have a formal police force. Our ‘cops’ are just freelance agents. Usually, they go around in funny costumes, which I am sure you know all about.”

  “Are you trying to be a comedian?”

  “Why, do I amuse you?” Redfire bristled. “We can continue a discussion in comparative law enforcement at another time. Right now, I have to get back to my ship, so let’s get on with whatever you’re here to do.”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “We have a tactical situation on board, and the son of my ex-wife was almost molested by one of your people. That’s my hurry.”

  “He’s dead,” said Brickbat.

  Color drained from Redfire’s face. “Max is dead.”

  “No, not the kid, the old guy that wanted to play ball with him.”

  “I thought people on your planet didn’t die.”

  “They do when somebody smashes in their skull,” Lambrusco elaborated.

  “Balls!” said Redfire.

  “Did you go into the room at the top of the stairs?” Lambrusco asked.

  “Neg, it was locked.”

  “That shouldn’t have been a problem for you. You probably know a dozen ways to by-pass a lock.”

  “True,” Redfire admitted. “But I didn’t feel like it.”

  “Is that what you’ll tell the judge? You could have opened the lock, but you just decided not to?” Redfire looked shocked. “You aren’t suggesting that I killed him.” Lambrusco feigned that he was backing off. “Why would you? It wasn’t your kid. Then again, you did seem awful protective of the kid, and you even slugged Manchester after it was over.”

  “Za, and I’m glad I did.”

  “Is that how they punish child molesters on your planet?” Lambrusco presssed.

  “We haven’t had a case on my planet … ever, I don’t think. We have punishments for sexual offenses.

  The usual punishment was castration and exile to Jesserit Island. However, where I come from, in farm country, according to folklore, a more common punishment involved a bull calf, a bucket of milk, and the exposed genitalia of the offender…”

  Lambrusco cut him off. “You don’t have to draw me a picture.”

  “Do you mind if I look in your bag, sir?” asked Brickbat, who had already scooped it off the seat next to Redfire.

  Redfire grabbed for the bag, then released it. “Normally, I’d tell you to keep your hands off my bag, but fortunately for you, I have a ship and a kid to get back to. If it will get me off this planet, be my guest.” Brickbat slipped clumsily into a pair of gloves. One could tell he was long out of practice. He fumbled with the latches. “How do you open this?”

  Redfire showed him. Brickbat opened the bag, and pulled aside some bloodstained underwear and some bloodstained dress socks. Finally, he removed a bloodstained candlestick from the bag.

  “That can’t be mine,” Redfire told t
hem.

  Lambrusco spun him around and began putting him into shackles. He began reciting an ancient ritualistic incantation to the lady gods of Justice that began, “Commander Redfire, you are under arrest for the murder of Clinton Manchester. You have the right to remain silent…” C h a p t e r E i g h t

  Winter – Habi Zod

  Redfire was subjected to an extended process that involved being photographed and having ink smeared on his fingertips. His uniform had been confiscated by his jailers, and replaced with a nondescript beige jumpsuit. Lambrusco and Brickbat took him, deep underground into Tyronius’s sub-sub-sub basement, beyond the reach of light, but where the air was humid and sultry from the junction of steam-pipes that carried heat from even deeper underground throughout the vast property. It also smelled strongly of damp rocks and slightly of things that had been rotting for a few hundred, or thousand years.

  If Redfire found it curious that the Lord had kept a dungeon, it was not the foremost thought that occupied his mind.

  How had that candlestick ended up in his bag? He could not begin to guess. It certainly had not been there in the morning when he put his dirty laundry in it. He had left the bag in his room when he went downstairs and grabbed some meat and biscuits. With a glass of wine, this had been his breakfast. That had to have been when the candlestick was placed in his bag.

  This meant someone else had killed Manchester, and sought to blame the crime on him. Why? It could only have been because of one of two reasons. Either the killer had simply disposed of the weapon in the first place he could, or it had been done deliberately to implicate him. Considering his earlier altercation with the victim, the first possibility seemed like too much of a coincidence. So, if it was the second case, then who and why?

  When he thought of anything else, his thoughts were around how much he hated being here when there could be Aurelians plotting and scheming to wreck this world as they had unknown others. He hated being 100,000 kilometers from a kid who would be the closest thing he would ever have to a son, who probably needed him now, whether he admitted it or not. This all accompanied a gnawing, impatient frustration that Keeler and Lear had not managed to free him yet.