The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction, Vol. 3

by George Mann

  I hit the open-air market, street performers holding court—tumblers and storytellers, ‘guana charmers, and dancing midgets. I found the body easy enough. All I had to do was look for the cloud of flies hovering above the crowd.

  I pushed my way through the curiosity seekers and stepped right into the middle of the buzzing blizzard, black flies darting all around me. I clapped my hands to scare away the geckos that were feeding on his face. Even in death, he was beautiful. I’m man enough to admit it. Other than the chewed patches, the guy was fucking perfect. Too perfect. Offworlder.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Just looking at him, I couldn’t tell how he’d died. I could’ve gone in for a closer look but decided to leave that to the coroner. I downed the last of my brandy and set the glass on the crumbled pavement, next to a patch of weeds that had forced their way up through the asphalt. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. The lizards were back already, a dozen of them, maybe more, all of them going in for a taste.

  I held up my badge and told the onlookers to get the fuck back. A woman appeared from out of the crowd and went after the lizards with a broomstick.

  “Whoa,” I said. “Stop that.”

  She didn’t seem to hear me. She swung the broomstick one-handed. Lizards scattered as she beat the corpse. “Get away from my husband!” she shouted.

  “Please stop, ma’am.”

  She wheeled on me, brandishing her broomstick. “Who are you?”

  “Police, ma’am. You mustn’t disturb the scene.”

  “They’re eating my husband.”

  “I know it, ma’am, but help will be here soon. We’ll do our best to preserve his body.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Help me!” She gave her hubby another whack. I noticed she was holding a baby with her other arm.

  I stood over the body and started clapping. The lizards scattered.

  “What are those things?” she asked disgustedly.

  “Geckos, ma’am.”

  “They don’t look like geckos.”

  I stomped my feet to keep them away. “I know they’re not what you’re used to, but that’s what we call ‘em.”

  She swiped at the flies, the broomstick swinging wildly.

  “Really, ma’am, I think you should find a place to sit for a few. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “I’m not leaving my husband,” she insisted.

  I clapped and stomped my way around to the other side of the body, positioning myself between her and her dead husband, shielding her from seeing the maggots that were already visible inside his eyes and mouth. The Lagartan jungle was an aggressive bastard. Leave this stiff out here, and he’d be picked clean by this time tomorrow.

  Satisfied that the lizard situation was under control, she dropped the broomstick and started rocking her mewling baby.

  “How old is he?” I asked.

  “Five months.”

  “Cute kid.”

  She acknowledged the compliment with a curt nod of her head. She was gorgeous. All offworlders were. Her hair was red—flame red—and it curled down over her shoulders and disappeared into the weave of her blouse, a fiery number that hugged what looked like a helluva nice pair she had on her. Her skin was an unblemished ivory, her eyes emerald, her irises glowing, fluorescent-like. Man, would I like to spend a night with her. Never poked an offworlder before. I gave up the idea in a hurry though. Widows could be the easiest of lays, but this one sure didn’t seem the type.

  The baby’s face was round and sweet and topped by wispy brown hair that bent in the hot breeze. Every one of these offworld kids was a parent’s dream. I heard they make ‘em in dishes; add a few genes here, some others over there. Babies made to order. Despite the genetic enhancements, I figured this kid had already gone under the knife, those pinch-worthy cheeks probably obscuring implants, those piercing blue eyes likely straight from a catalog. He’d surely get his face restructured several times on the way to adulthood. These kids were like clay in their parents’ hands.

  Not so for Lagartan children. We’re too poor for that shit. For our kids, it’s pure chance. Swimmer and egg come together, and you get what you get.

  A couple of unis finally showed. I assigned one to setting up a perimeter, the other to clapping duty. I made a quick call down to the Koba Office of Police headquarters. The brass would appreciate the courtesy. A dead offworlder was sure to make news.

  Finished, I introduced myself to her. “I’m Detective Mark Josephs. Homicide.”

  “Delia Foster.”

  “And your husband?”

  “Darren.”

  More uniforms arrived. One of them pulled a tube of fly gel out of his pocket. I edged Delia away from the body so she wouldn’t see her husband getting lathered up with the insecticide.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Somebody killed my husband.”

  “Did you see who it was?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

  She looked down her nose at me. “Everything’s out of the ordinary on this hellhole.”

  I creased my sweaty brows. “Could you please explain?”

  “This planet of yours, it’s a dirty, filthy sewer!” She teared up, the glow of her eyes diluted by a thin film of water. She looked past me. “My God, what are you doing to him? Get away from my husband!”

  The uniform froze, the tube of fly gel almost squeezed empty.

  She rushed up to him. “What’s wrong with you people?”

  “Please, ma’am,” I said. “Let him do his job. It’s just an insecticide. It’ll wash right off.”

  She dropped to her knees. “Oh, Darren. Darren!” The baby was crying now, his wails hurting my ears. Soon enough, she joined him in a sad duet. I stood nearby, tapping my foot. I checked the time. My shift should’ve ended five minutes ago, dammit.

  By now, the unis had cleared a broad triangular space, police tape strung between a trio of streetlights. Rows of spectators watched the offworld woman sob. The street performers probably weren’t expecting competition like this. Maybe I should start passing a hat.

  After a few minutes, she finally ran out of tears and focused on calming the baby. She was a single mother now. It really was sad when you thought about it. I found a crumpled napkin on the ground and smoothed it out. I ripped off the part with the food stains and offered it to her. She stared at me like she didn’t understand. “Wanna wipe your nose?” I asked.

  “No! Get that thing away from me.”

  I let it fall from my fingers.

  She suddenly stood up, like she’d just noticed she was sitting on the ground. She brushed invisible dirt off her legs and ass. “Shouldn’t you be out there trying to find my husband’s killer?”

  “I’d sure like to be, but you haven’t told me what happened yet.”

  “I don’t have anything to tell.” She was inspecting her baby now, holding him up in the light, studying his head.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Mind if I make sure he’s okay? My husband was holding him when it happened. He took a bad fall.”

  “He’s fine,” I said.

  “How the hell would you know?”

  “He ain’t crying anymore, is he? Listen, lady, I’m just trying to do my job, okay? You don’t need to be so hostile.”

  “My god, have you been drinking?”

  “No.”

  “I smell alcohol.”

  “Some drunk spilt a little booze on my shirt when I was coming over here.” She looked unconvinced. I didn’t really care. “Now, can you please tell me what happened?”

  She pulled her hair up off the back of her neck, the hair untangling itself from the weave of her shirt. With her red locks up in a handheld ponytail, she let the night air cool her skin. “Why does it always have to be so hot here?”

  Right before my eyes, her hair turned black, as did her clothes. She was officially in mourning now. She dropped her hair ont
o her shoulders, where it weaved itself back into the fabric of her shirt, creating a cascading cape of curling locks running down her back. Their tech was so far ahead of ours that half the shit they could do looked downright magical. And they were always coming up with something new like this instant dye job thing. In the meantime, our tech was going in the opposite direction. That’s what happens to a failed colony world like ours. Economic isolation was a bitch.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you do know?”

  “Where’s my stroller?”

  I waved at Officer Ramos, who pushed the hovering buggy over to us. She reached into a pocket hanging on the side, pulled out a moist towelette, and started wiping her baby’s face and arms. “Darren talked me into coming out to see the carnival,” she said.

  “Coming out from where? A hotel?”

  “Yes. The Iguana King.”

  “Is this your first time on Lagarto?”

  “Yes. But Darren’s been down several times.”

  “You’re from the Orbital Station?”

  She shook her head. “We’re from the belts. Darren used to be an executive at Universal Mining.”

  “Used to be?”

  “He quit and decided to start a school.” She held out the used towelette, unsure what to do with it.

  I took it from her and waved for a uniform to come dispose of it. “You were saying he wanted to start a school. Was it going to be here on Lagarto?”

  Nodding, she said, “He wanted to make a difference. He came down here on business for the first time about five years ago. He couldn’t believe the poverty. He wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

  “Is the school up and running now?”

  “He never got that far,” she said with a sniffle. “Until now, he’s been soliciting contributions. He was getting ready to purchase a space though. That’s why we came here. We needed to select a location.” She went back to the buggy and pulled out a little bottle of sanitizer. She squeezed out a glob and— despite his fussing—started giving the runt a good rubdown.

  I wiped sweat out of my eyes with a shirtsleeve. “When did you arrive?”

  “A week ago.”

  “You’ve been helping your husband look at spaces?”

  “That was the idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She pinched her lips. “This is the first time I’ve left the hotel.”

  “But you’ve been here for a week.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to go out, okay? I don’t like this place. It’s hot and dirty, and it smells. You can’t eat the food without getting sick. The water is foul and riddled with bacteria. We shouldn’t have come. I told him it was dangerous here, but he wouldn’t listen. He said I was overreacting, but now he’s dead. Why didn’t he listen to me?”

  “I wouldn’t know, ma’am.”

  “I can’t believe he wanted to move us down here. I mean, just take a look around.” She waved a hand at the crowds. “Do you see these people? Nothing but criminals and degenerates.”

  Even though she’d just insulted my world, I nodded like I understood. Take that kinda talk serious, and a guy could get offended.

  “How can you people live like this?” She didn’t ask it like a question. The way she said it, it was more of an accusation.

  I answered anyway. “We don’t have much choice, ma’am.”

  “Yeah, right.” Turning on a whiny voice, she said, “We’re poor. Our economy crashed. We don’t have any natural resources to trade.” Jabbing a finger at me, “Save it, you hear me? I’ve heard it all before. My husband was full of that bleeding heart bullshit. You ask me, you people are just lazy. God forbid you actually work for a living. Instead you have to steal from my husband. He was trying to help you people, and this is how you repay him?”

  I smiled and nodded, the words “bitch, bitch, bitch” repeating in my mind with every bob of my head. “I understand how you feel, ma’am. You said somebody stole from your husband?”

  “Yes. His pockets are empty. I tried to tell him not to carry cash.”

  “Where were you when he died?”

  “I’d just stepped away. We were watching those little dancers, and Darren was holding Peter, and I wanted to go back to the hotel, so I left. But I couldn’t have gone more than five meters when I heard a commotion behind me, so I came back to check and Darren and Peter were both on the ground, and Darren was dead.”

  “Is that when you checked his pockets?”

  “Not straight away, I didn’t. My first concern was Peter. But, yes, I eventually checked.”

  “Can you give me an inventory of what he was carrying in his pockets?”

  “Some money. A hotel key.”

  “How much money?”

  “I don’t know. How much are the purple bills worth?”

  “They’re thousand peso notes.”

  “I’d guess he had a stack of ten bills or so when we left the hotel, but he probably spent half of it tipping the performers.”

  “So we’re talking maybe five or six thousand pesos?”

  She nodded.

  Six thousand wasn’t a lot. Certainly enough to tempt a pickpocket, but nowhere near enough to risk murder. Of course, the killer might not have known how little Darren was carrying. Could be the killer saw Darren dropping some big tips and figured he’d land some serious cash only to be disappointed in how little a haul he’d scored.

  Could be... but I didn’t think so. This didn’t play as a simple mugging. Offworlders usually had sophisticated self-defense systems. Some were wired to deliver deadly shocks. Others carried recessed lase-blades inside their fingertips. I’d seen all kinds of shit: super-strong mechanical limbs, poison gas, mini-flamethrowers... Offworlders sure made risky marks.

  The coroner had arrived, and he was already inspecting the body. Looking to my right, I noticed a group of three people gathered inside the police tape, milling about under one of the lampposts. Must be witnesses who had stepped forward.

  Delia Foster was talking to her baby, telling him everything would be okay. “Daddy loved you,” she’d say over and over.

  I headed for the group of witnesses but was stopped on the way by a slap on the back. “You in charge here, Josephs?”

  Turning, I found myself face-to-face with Chief Paul Chang and his enforcer, Juno Mozambe. Was it just me or did Juno always stand on the right? He was taking this right-hand man thing way too serious. “Yeah.” I said.

  “Fill us in,” said the chief.

  I hadn’t been expecting him to show up here, but I wasn’t surprised either. This was my first high-profile case since I’d had my little um... incident, and he clearly felt the need to tug my leash, in person no less.

  I caught them up, making sure I kept a good distance back. I didn’t want the chief to catch a whiff of my breath. He was the one that forced me to do that stupid fucking stint in rehab. I guess I should be happy he didn’t fire me.

  Abdul, the long-time coroner, joined our little police party. “Zapped,” he said.

  “How can you tell?” asked Juno.

  “His eyes are fried, and I found a burn on his chest where the charge entered. I heard he was holding the baby at the time. Is that true?”

  “Seems to be,” I said.

  “Amazing that the kid survived,” said Abdul. “I took a quick peek at him, and if he really is as fine as he looks, we could be dealing with something new here. Normally, the charge will travel from one person to another like electricity. This thing must’ve been targeted somehow.”

  Chief Chang asked, “It can travel from person to person?”

  Abdul said, “I’ve seen it happen.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. Some of these people have the tech implanted so it deploys by touch, right?”

  “That’s right,” said Abdul.

  “So how do they keep from frying themselves when they kill somebody by touching them?�
�

  The coroner thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said.

  We all stood there and chewed on the puzzle, our faces scrunched up in serious concentration. What a bunch of dumbasses we were. Koba’s fucking finest. Mighty hard to do good police work when you don’t understand how the murder weapon works.

  I decided to state the obvious. “Another offworlder did this.” That was for sure. Whatever the tech was that offed that poor fuck, it must’ve cost a fortune.

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything else,” said Abdul. He made to leave, but turned back. “The baby sure looks okay but somebody should bring him to a doctor just in case.” With that, the coroner moved off, leaving the three of us alone.

  “Has the Libre been here yet?” asked the chief.

  The Libre was our local news station. “Not that I’ve seen,” I said.

  “I don’t want anybody talking to them. Tell the unis that nobody talks to them but me, got it? And tell Abdul to get that body bagged in a hurry. I don’t want to see that corpse on the news. Dead off-worlders are bad for business.”

  I hustled off to do as he said. You don’t buck the chief. Especially when you’re sitting at the top of his shit list. He was a smart guy, the chief. Always looking out for our fair city’s business interests. Other than tourism, this planet didn’t have much going for it. And even then, this place wasn’t exactly a tourist Mecca. Too hot, too underdeveloped, too fucking depressing with so many poor and needy wandering the streets with their palms out.

  On the positive side, we did have some kick-ass hookers though. Matter of fact, I’d only been a brandy or two away from going after some of that action when the call came in. I knew more than a few places where a cop could get a freebie—one of the better perks you get working for KOP.

  After spreading the nobody-talks-to-the-press word, the chief pulled me aside. “Do you think the wife did it?”

  I nodded. “Like I told you before, she hates it here. She sure didn’t sound happy about moving down here. Now that he’s dead, she can go back to living in a can. She’s probably lying about the money. I bet his pockets were empty all along.”