by Tripp Ellis
Dylan made his way out of the station and navigated the maze of corridors to Chace’s apartment. The size of the station was overwhelming, and was easy to get lost in. Dylan slid the key card into the lock, and the access light flashed green. The hatch slid open, and a gust of air flowed into the corridor. It smelled like Chace. A faint trace of his cologne still lingered in the air. Dylan felt his knees wobble. His heart sank into his stomach, heavy with loss. It was hard to believe Chace was gone. Dylan tried to stand tall and took a deep breath before he stepped into his brother's apartment.
The lighting flickered on automatically. The apartment had been ransacked. Drawers rummaged through, clothing scattered on the deck, shelves demolished. Someone had been looking for something. It became clear that Chace’s death wasn't just a random act of violence.
12
"It's a good thing you like music," Dylan said through the hatch.
Max was lying on a bunk in a protective custody cell. She sat up at the sound of Dylan's voice. She heard the locking mechanism unlatch, and the hatch slid open.
Dylan stood in the portal. "Well, are you going to stay in there? I'm sure that can be arranged, but you might have to start paying rent."
Max's eyes widened.
"You're free to go." Dylan said slowly, as if speaking to someone who didn't understand the language.
Max hopped off the bunk and stepped into the corridor. "You don't have to tell me twice."
"Apparently, I did.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
“The entertainment bot at Plasmatronics has timestamped video footage of you purchasing a song around the time of the murder. Unless you can be at two places at the same time, I think that pretty much proves your innocence." Dylan escorted her out of the protective custody wing, down a corridor, and across the general population pod. "It would seem I owe you an apology."
"Apology accepted. I guess I should say thank you."
“No need to thank me. I need to be thanking you. Convicting the wrong person wouldn't have done justice for my brother. And I said some pretty harsh things to you in the interrogation room."
“Oh, you mean like calling me a genetic abomination? Pfft. Flattery will get you nowhere. Insults are the way to a girl’s heart.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Dylan cringed. “Probably not my finest moment.”
The other prisoners hooted and hollered as Max marched toward the exit. Every time an inmate got released, it was like a triumph for everyone. Despite their differences, they liked to see each other beat the system.
But the correctional officers didn’t share the same enthusiasm. Max was met with the unforgiving glares of guards as she passed. There may have been evidence to exonerate her, but the OPD wasn't happy about it. They were back to square one with no suspects.
"What are you going to do now?" Dylan asked.
"I'm going to get as far away from Orion Station as possible. Then I'm going to keep looking for that son-of-a-bitch that killed Doctor Tor.”
Dylan paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to make his pitch. Then he just blurted it out. "I was thinking that perhaps you might stay for a few days."
Max didn't like the idea one iota, and the look she gave him made it painfully obvious. "Why the hell would I do something like that?"
"My brother's apartment was ransacked. He contacted me a few days before his death. Said he needed to share information with me, but didn't feel safe sending it over the network. Said I needed to come here and meet him in person. Now he's dead. Someone was looking for something in his apartment."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"You have a certain skill set. And I could use some assistance."
"That's what the OPD is for."
"I find that I'm getting a little resistance,” Dylan said. “I get the impression that they don't particularly like a Fed sticking his nose in their business."
“Not surprising."
"I would pay you, of course, for your time."
"You want to hire me as a private investigator?"
"Something like that."
Max looked at him like he was crazy. ”That's not exactly in my line of work."
“Don’t sell yourself short. I did some digging. It took some work, but I was able to pull the files of every project SW Ultra member. You’re highly skilled at gathering and analyzing intelligence. Identifying and neutralizing threats. I feel confident that you would make a valuable asset.”
"The UIA might argue otherwise."
"Take a day. Think about it. I’ll set you up at the finest hotel on Orion Station—if you choose to stay.”
Max looked into his eyes and tried to size him up. It was an odd request. Yesterday he wanted to see her hang, today he was begging her to be a partner.
"Listen, I'm really sorry about your brother. I appreciate you digging up the footage from that entertainment bot. But I'm not sticking around this place any longer than I have to.”
Dylan frowned. "I understand.”
The warden greeted them at the last security checkpoint. He flashed a smile. “Well, it seems that I have misjudged you.”
“I want my pistol returned. You don't expect a girl to travel across the galaxy without one, now do you? Especially not with a murderer on the loose."
“Of course.” He handed her a bag of her personal effects that had been confiscated upon her arrest.
Max looked in the bag and saw her pistol, ammunition, and a few jewelry items.
“You'll need to keep that in the bag until you are out of the facility. Sorry. Prison policy."
Max gave a slight nod of agreement.
“I hope you will accept our most sincere apology for the inconvenience. Here's a transport voucher to anywhere in the galaxy, courtesy of the OPD. No hard feelings."
Max took the voucher. The warden waited for a thank you, but he never got one. He finally forced a smile again and said, "Safe journey."
The warden opened the hatch to the last security checkpoint. Max and Dylan stepped through, and the hatch slid shut behind them. All Max had to do was walk 15 feet to the main exit, and the prison pod on Orion Station was going to be a memory. She was going to make a beeline for the terminal and take the first transport out. She didn't care where it was going. Anyplace was better than this place.
Max held her hand out to Dylan. "Best of luck."
Dylan shook her hand, then dug out a business card. He handed her the thin piece of smart glass. “Take this. Call me if you change your mind.”
“Don't get your hopes up."
Max spun around and Dylan watched her strut toward the main exit. "By the way. I may be able to help you find Silas Rage."
Max stopped in her tracks. Now he definitely had her attention.
13
Someone was following Max. She knew how to spot a tail. She kept thinking about Dylan's offer as she strolled down the hallway, heading for the transport terminal. Help him solve his brother's murder in exchange for access to the UIA database and any known whereabouts of Silas Rage. It was an enticing offer. Rage had been responsible for the death of Doctor Tor, and the downfall of the SW Ultra program. He was on the most wanted list, but he had proven to be quite elusive. After all, the Ultras had been trained to hide in plain sight. They were phantoms.
A bald man in civilian clothing trailed behind Max by 30 yards. She noticed him shortly after she left the prison pod. He was a cop. No doubt about it. As she crossed the next junction, she picked up another tail. He fell in line behind her, pretending to read from a tablet. The bald man turned off on another junction, while the reader drifted along. The new follower wore dark sunglasses and a backwards ball-cap. Wearing sunglasses on Orion Station was like wearing snowshoes at the beach.
Max kept weaving through the maze of passageways until she reached the departure terminal. There were crowds of people coming and going. Travelers in all shapes and sizes from all over the galaxy. There were overstuffed b
ags and frantic passengers rushing to make connections.
The man following her loitered around a coffee kiosk, keeping an eye on her.
Max scanned the area. Her eyes fixed on a young woman about the same age and build. She had blonde hair, and her head was down, glued to her mobile device. She was texting away a storm.
Max made a beeline for her and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Max," she said, offering a hand.
The blonde woman looked up from her mobile with a quizzical look on her face. “Uh, hi,” she stammered. “I’m Abigail.” She had no idea why Max was introducing herself. It all seemed a bit odd.
Max shook the woman's hand and smiled. "Well, it was nice to meet you. I've got to run."
“Um, okay.”
Max walked away, and the woman went back to her phone and made a face. “Weirdness,” she muttered to herself.
Max strolled to the ticketing counter. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her. The man that had been following her was sipping a cup of coffee. A redhead in a tight black dress had gotten his attention. He lowered his sunglasses and his eyes followed the woman's assets as she sauntered up to the barista.
Max shook her hair out. It flowed like a shampoo commercial and transformed color from raven black to blonde. The same color as Abigail's hair.
Max continued to the ticketing counter. “What's the first transport out of here?" Max asked the agent.
“I've got a flight to Bellatrix 6 that you might be able to catch, if you hurry."
“I’ll take it.” Max handed her the ticket voucher.
“Is that round-trip? Or one-way?"
"One way. I'm never coming back here again."
"I'm sorry you didn't have a pleasant stay.” The agent leaned in and whispered. “I'll see if I can bump you up to first class." The ticketing agent smiled and winked.
“Thank you. That would be nice.”
“I'll just need to verify your ID."
Max placed her hand on the bio scanner. An instant later, Abigail Matheson's picture and information appeared on the agent’s screen. With a handshake, Max had sampled a woman's palm print.
“Alright, Abigail,” the agent said. "You are all set. The flight departs in 15 minutes from gate C-23. Better hurry."
“Thank you!” Max turned around to head for the gate, but she almost ran into Mr. Sunglasses.
His face twisted up, confused. Something was different about Max, but he couldn't quite place it. He could've sworn she was a brunette.
“Is there a reason you're following me?" Max asked.
“Just making sure you get on that transport safely. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”
It was a veiled threat. It seemed there were some in the OPD that wanted her off the station. That was fine by Max. But there was also a part of her that didn't like to be told what to do. “You know, I really didn't get to see much of Orion Station. What if I decide to stay for a few days?”
“It's a free galaxy. But I don't think that would be in your best interest.”
Max liked being threatened even less than she liked being told what to do. She flashed a fake smile. “I guess it's a good thing I've got my ticket then. This place sucks anyway." She brushed past him and marched toward the gate.
She fell in line with the other passengers and hurried way down the spaceway. She settled into her cushy first-class seat, then prepared for the nine-hour quantum jump to Bellatrix 6. After a few days on a rock hard lumpy mattress, the seat felt like heaven. She reclined, almost horizontal, and Max figured she might actually get some decent sleep on this trip.
As soon as she was settled, the attendant stopped by her seat. "Can I get you a snack? Soda? Cocktail? I have beer, wine, and mixed drinks.”
“Do you have Bulvacci Special Reserve?”
The attendant smiled. “Excellent choice. I'll be back with that shortly." The attendant twirled around and headed to the galley.
Max looked out the window at the cosmos. A billion glimmering stars filled the void. Max shook her hair again, and it turned back to her natural raven black. Then she lowered the tray on the seat-back in front of her. A moment later, the attendant set down a glass of smooth amber whiskey. “Enjoy!”
“I most certainly will," Max said. The attendant tilted her head and looked at Max with confusion. Not able to place what was different about her. She shrugged it off and moved onto the next row.
Max sipped the liquor, and the smooth fluid warmed her throat and heated her belly. It was the best tasting shot of whiskey she had in recent memory. Against the stark contrast of the all-purpose nutrition of the prison pod, sipping fine Antarian whiskey seemed like a dream. But something kept nagging at her. Maybe it was the cops following her to the gate, making sure she left the station. Maybe it was the opportunity to get more information about Silas Rage. Maybe it was the fact that someone had been killed, and Max couldn't quite put her finger on why.
It was none of her business, she told herself. People get killed every day all across the galaxy. Forget about it and move on. Don't get involved. That was the smart thing to do.
14
“I'm sorry ma'am, you'll need to take a seat. We’re about to close the hatch and prepare for departure,” the attendant said.
“Change of plans,” Max said. “You can give my seat to someone else.”
Max rushed through the main hatch, and down the spaceway to the terminal.
She pulled out Dylan's card and swiped the smart glass to dial his number. The call connected, and Dylan's face appeared on the small screen. He looked surprised to see Max. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind?"
"I'm not sure. But I just gave up a first-class seat, so let's talk.”
“How about I meet you at Plasmatronics?”
"At least I know I can get a good drink there."
“See you in 15.”
Max hung up, pocketed the card, and weaved her way back through the terminal. She saw the man in sunglasses that had followed her to the terminal, along with the bald guy who had initially been following her. Sunglasses shook his head and fell in alongside her. He walked with her for a few steps. "I thought you had decided to leave?"
“Flight’s been delayed."
“Really? For how long?” he said with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“I haven't decided yet."
“Don't say I didn't warn you.” He fell away and ambled back to the bald man. They disappeared into the crowd, but Max was sure she hadn't seen the last of them.
Plasmatronics was the same as it had been a few days earlier, only the faces had changed. A different set of weary travelers. Same hot bartender. She looked a little surprised as Max sauntered up. "Didn't expect to be seeing you again?"
“Life's full of surprises, isn't it?”
“That it is. What’ll it be?”
“The usual."
The bartender chuckled. "I guess two visits makes you a regular.”
Max cringed. "I never wanted to be considered a regular. Not in this crap-tastic place. No offense.”
“None taken. As soon as I save up enough credits, I'm getting out of here. I've got my eye on a nice resort colony in the Alaki Nebula. Better tips, cleaner air, and closer to recreational activities."
“Sounds nice."
“I’m Skye. Nice to meet you.”
“Max. Likewise.” The two shook hands.
Skye returned a few moments later and slid a glass of whiskey across the bar. "This one's on the house. Try not to get arrested today,” she said with a friendly wink.
"I'll do my best. No promises, though."
It didn't take long for a guy to step up to the plate and take a swing. “Is this seat taken?”
“Yes, it is,” Max replied.
The guy stared at the bar stool. ”I don't see anybody."
Max pointed to Dylan as he stepped into the bar.
“Lucky guy." The man flashed a courteous smile, then strolled away, dejected.
Dylan
’s eyes made contact with Max. He marched across the bar, taking the empty seat next to her.
"Can I get you anything?" Skye asked.
"Bottle of water," Dylan said.
Maxed arched a curious eyebrow at him.
"I'm on the job. Federal agents can't just have cocktails while investigating."
"Sucks to be you." Max took a sip of her whiskey.
"Listen, thank you for staying."
“Don’t thank me yet. Right now, I'm just delaying my departure. But one thing is for sure, there are some members of the OPD that don’t want me around.” Max paused for a moment. "Do you have any idea what your brother was working on? Anybody who might want him dead?”
“He wouldn't talk about specifics, even on an encrypted channel. And I'm getting massive pushback from the OPD. They're not letting me anywhere near the case.”
“Can't you pull some strings? You're pretty high up in the company.”
Dylan hesitated a moment. “It's a delicate situation. Technically homicide of a local police officer on Orion Station is not a Federation matter. The local authorities have jurisdiction. But Chace wasn't just an OPD officer.”
Max had a quizzical look on her face. "Explain."
Dylan glanced around the bar to make sure no one was paying any attention to them. Then he leaned in and whispered, “My brother was an FCIS agent.”
“So he was working undercover?”
Dylan nodded.
“The murder of a Federation agent gives you jurisdiction.”
“Yes, it also blows his cover and let's everyone know the FCIS is snooping around.”
“What was he looking for? Corruption within the OPD? That doesn't seem like a Federation concern.”
"That's classified."
Max rolled her eyes. "How do you expect me to help you if you're not going to tell me everything?"
Dylan said nothing.
Max gulped her drink down and pushed away from the bar. “Good luck. I'm outta here.”
Max strutted away. Dylan grimaced, then called after her. "Wait!"