by Tripp Ellis
Max craned her neck back and arched an eyebrow at him.
"Have a seat.”
Max slid her perfect ass back on the barstool. “Skye, can we get another round. This one's on my friend here.”
“Sure thing.”
Max's crystal eyes found Dylan. “You were saying?”
15
“I think, perhaps, we should take this conversation somewhere else," Max said, eyeing the two OPD officers that entered the bar. They were in full tactical gear carrying plasma rifles. But they weren't moving with urgency. Max watched as they made note of her, but that was it. They didn't seem to be here to arrest her. Nonetheless, Max didn't want to hang around for them to change their minds.
"We can go back to my hotel,” Dylan said. “I’m staying at the Plaza.”
“Don't get any funny ideas. We’re just going to discuss the case."
“Of course. I wasn't implying anything else.”
Max arched an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You are so not my type.”
Max was everyone’s type.
Dylan's suite at the Plaza was luxurious. Panoramic windows offered a stunning view of the surrounding cosmos. The Lotar nebula wasn't far away, and made for a nice view.
The living area was impeccably decorated. There was a couch, coffee table, entertainment center, minibar, and a kitchenette. Max figured Dylan was getting the company to spring for it.
I see the FCIS is treating you well," Max said. She strolled to the minibar and perused the selection of liquor, then poured herself another drink.
"They're pretty generous with my expense account."
"You want one?" She said, offering to fix him a drink.
Dylan shook his head.
"Oh, that's right. On-the-job."
"Do you ever slow down?”
"I metabolize this stuff really fast. The downside of being a genetic freak, as you would say.” She couldn’t help but throw his previous comment back in his face. “I have to drink a whole lot to feel anything, and the effects don't last that long."
"So, you're not a cheap date?"
"Not at all." Max moved to the window and took in the view.
Dylan couldn't help but check her out. She was definitely a sight to behold. "Tell me more."
"More about what?"
"You. How are you able to sample fingerprints? Morph your hair color?"
"You need to ask Doctor Tor those questions. I don't know how I can do what I do, it just comes natural. I can change my hair color, my eye color, replicate biometric attributes. Comes in handy for passing retinal scans, and fingerprint IDs…even voice analysis. You have to remember, one of my main functions was to infiltrate and eliminate high-value targets."
"Impressive."
"I can't shape-shift or anything like that. I think that was something Doctor Tor was working on for the next generation."
"Doctor Tor designed your genetic code from scratch, am I right?"
Max nodded.
"It seems he was beginning to blur the lines.”
Max shot him a look.
“I mean, one could argue that you’re a biosynthetic humanoid."
"I'm flesh and blood, just like you."
"Not exactly like me. Your tissue regenerates faster. According to the files, you don't age."
Max shrugged. "I haven't noticed any signs of aging myself, but I have a termination date.”
Dylan lifted a curious eyebrow.
“It's programmed into the genetic code of all the Ultras. One day, our DNA will just start to unravel.”
“Do you know how long?"
Max shook her head. “Maybe a year. Maybe 5. Maybe 50. Who knows?” Isn’t it in the files?”
“No,” Dylan said.
Max shrugged. “I’ll probably die from a bullet long before then.”
“So, you’re an optimist?” Dylan said with more than a trace of sarcasm.
Max paused for a moment, reflecting on her past. "I've been technically dead before. It's taught me to cherish every moment."
“What was that like?"
Her eyes flared and she spoke in a dramatic tone. “There was a big bright light, and a calm soothing voice called out to me. You want to know what the voice said?"
Dylan nodded.
“It said stay away from Orion Station.”
Dylan sneered at her for pulling his leg.
“So what was your brother doing here?”
Dylan paused a moment. “We believe weapons are being moved through this facility, supplying insurgent terrorists. We placed Chace undercover to investigate. The idea being that a local detective sniffing around wouldn’t draw much attention as a Federation Security Agent. If we put too much pressure on them, the whole operation might just disappear and start up somewhere else.”
“Do you think OPD officers are involved?"
Dylan shrugged. “It's hard to say. Could be somebody within the department. Could be somebody within the customs enforcement agency. Or it could be any number of organized crime elements that are operating on the station.”
“Or it could be that his girlfriend caught him cheating and she decided to teach him a lesson.”
Dylan shook his head. "Chace was a decent guy. Loyal.”
“Have you talked to the girlfriend?"
“She won't talk to me. Like I said, the OPD isn't too keen on a Fed poking his nose around their business. They want to handle it internally." Dylan paused. “I don't blame them, really. If a cop gets killed, the rest of the department is out for blood.”
“Tell me about it.”
“We need to find his service bot, Winston. He may have some information.”
“Good luck. Your brother was getting too close to something,” Max said. “If Winston has any damning information, I can guarantee you he's in a million pieces right now and probably got hauled off the station in the last trash dump.”
“I hope you're wrong.”
"I'm almost never wrong."
Dylan gave her a look.
“We need to get a list of his open cases. Find out who he was digging into.”
“Our best shot is the girlfriend.” Dylan looked at Max, expectantly. But Max didn’t have any answers.
“She's not going to talk to me.”
16
“Mind if I have a seat?" Max asked.
Officer Calhoun's eyes burned into her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming around here."
Lockup was a cop bar not far from the OPD headquarters. Max had been met with unfriendly stares from the moment she stepped inside. Officer Calhoun was sitting at the bar with red puffy eyes and a solemn face. The half-empty glass of beer in front of her wasn't her first one.
Max took a seat next to her. She motioned to the bartender, “Bring her another round, on me.”
Mayor Thornton was on TV boasting about the low crime rates on Orion Station, and the high job opportunities. How Orion was poised to be the next great megalopolis, now that the economy was expanding with unprecedented year-over-year growth. He was trying to counter the bad press that had come with the recent murder.
The bartender slid a fresh beer in front of Officer Calhoun. She slugged her old one down, then grabbed the new one and marched away. She took a seat at a nearby table.
Max paid the tab and followed after her.
“What do you want?”
“I want the same thing you want. To find out who killed Chace.”
“You've already been cleared, why do you care?"
Max sat down next to her. "Exactly. I've been cleared. That means whoever killed Chace is still out there. And if you don't care about seeing them brought to justice, by all means, don't talk to me.” Max stood up and walked away.
“Wait.”
Max stopped and looked back at Officer Calhoun. The officer motioned for her to have a seat. Max returned to the table and sat down. There was a long silence between them.
“Why did you lie?”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t lie.” Calhoun paused a long moment. Her eyes brimmed, still emotional. She took a deep breath and decided to come clean. “We were in the shopping district, not far from the terminal. I ducked into a boutique to look at some cute tops and Chace went down the hall to use a public restroom. When he didn't come back, I went looking for him. I bumped into a woman in the hallway, scurrying away from the restrooms. I didn't think much of it at first. In my recollection, she looked a lot like you.” She hung her head, shameful. "Reese assured me that you were the perpetrator. He said he had seen the surveillance video before it was corrupted. I wasn't about to let a conviction slide away."
“Can you think of anybody who wanted Chace dead?”
"Every cop makes enemies."
“Was he investigating anything in particular?”
“Don’t you think the OPD’s already been through this? Why don't you just let local law enforcement do their job?”
“Because it doesn't seem like they are very good at it. No offense."
“What’s your interest in this anyway?”
“Somebody tried to set me up to take the fall. I’d kind of like to find out who that is, and why.”
There was a moment of silence between them. Calhoun looked over Max, trying to size her up.
“It's clear that someone wanted this case wrapped up quickly. Someone doesn't want this case investigated. You find out who that is, you'll find the killer."
"How dare you come in here and accuse the OPD of corruption?”
Max shrugged. "If the shoe fits…” She stood up. “I’ll be at the Plaza if you can think of anything useful.”
Max ambled out of the bar and made her way through the maze of passageways, heading back toward the Plaza.
Two men were following her. There wasn't much traffic in this section of the station and they stuck out like sore thumbs.
Max turned a corner at the next junction and was met with a pipe to the belly. Two thugs had been waiting for her. The hard steel mashed her abdomen, doubling her over with pain. She gasped for breath as the thugs hovered over her. The pipe crashed down again, slamming against her back, cracking ribs. The impact flattened her against the deck and sent a jolt through her spine.
A hard boot slammed into her jaw as another thug kicked her. Her lips split, and the metallic tinny taste of blood filled her mouth. The force of the impact wrenched her neck to the side, splattering the bulkhead with crimson blood.
The two goons that had been following her caught up. She was now surrounded by four thugs taking turns planting boots into her rib cage. Each kick mangled her internal organs, and the contents of her stomach crept up into the back of her throat. Deep pain filled every fiber of her being. Max tried to dial it down in her mind, but it still was unpleasant.
“You should have left when you had the chance," one of them muttered.
The hard pipe crashed down again with brutal force. Max reached her hand up to block it. Her metacarpals fractured as she wrapped her palm around the pipe, deflecting the blow.
She lunged the pipe forward, plowing it into the thug’s belly. He hunched over, the contents of his stomach begging to get out.
Max yanked back, stripping the pipe from his grasp. She sprang to her feet, swinging the pipe around. The heavy steel cracked one of the goons in the head, shattering his orbital bone. He fell to the deck, unconscious. The foothills of a small mountain grew on his face, swollen and bruised from the impact. Dark purple circles formed under his eyes, and his scleras filled with blood. The laceration on his cheek was a chasm that oozed blood onto the deck. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.
17
One of the other thugs lunged for Max. But it didn't work out too well for him. He got an up close and personal introduction to Max's boot as it cracked him in the face from a roundhouse kick. The blow knocked him into the bulkhead. He staggered on his feet a moment before collapsing.
The last thug took off running. He didn't want any part of this.
Max wiped the blood from her chin on her sleeve. Then she pulled out her mobile device and took pictures of the goons lying on the ground for reference. She wanted to know who they were.
She threw the pipe on the deck and headed back to the Plaza.
Dylan’s wide eyes gazed at her in shock as he pulled the door open to his suite. “What the hell happened to you?"
“Just making new friends." Max hobbled into the room, making a beeline for the minibar. But instead of making a drink, she scooped ice into a glass and pressed it against her face. Her once smooth skin was now scuffed and raw, colored multiple shades of purple, green, yellow, and blue.
“We need to get you to the med center.”
Max ambled to the couch and sat down. She winced with every step. “Not necessary. I'm fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“You should see the other guys.”
“I can imagine,” Dylan said. “Do you have any idea who it was?"
“I’ve got pictures. You can run them through the database. I'll transfer them to your mobile.” She pulled out her phone and sent the images to Dylan.
Max's hand was swollen like a softball. She could barely wiggle her fingers, and the throbbing pain shot up her arm to meet her aching jaw and neck. Each breath was like a knife stabbing through her thoracic cavity. Cracked ribs were no fun.
“I really think you need to get looked at.”
“Give it time. I will regenerate. I heal faster, remember."
“If you say so."
Max laid back on the couch rotating the glass of ice between her various points of injury. "You don't happen to have any cryo-gel, do you?”
“I bet they have some in the med center.”
Max sneered at him.
“Okay, fine. Suit yourself. You want to sit around here and be uncomfortable, be my guest." Dylan left her on the couch to wallow in her own misery.
He ran the images of Max's attackers’ through the FCIS database. It didn't take long to come up with a hit. The attackers’ images, along with their full background record and criminal history, appeared on Dylan's screen. “Those weren’t cops."
Max’s brow crinkled with surprise.
“We're not talking about pristine angels here. Looks like they've all got rap sheets as long as the Otari Nebula. I'm having the system cross-reference now.”
A holographic image of the concierge appeared. “Mr. Carter. An officer Calhoun is here to see you. Should I send her up to your suite?"
Dylan exchanged a surprised glance with Max. What the hell was she doing here? Surely she hadn’t changed her mind?
“Uh, sure,” Dylan stammered. “Send her up.”
“Very well.”
“Thank you.”
The concierge bowed and the hologram vanished.
Dylan waited for the results of the cross-reference on his mobile. The system displayed a list of interconnected associates among the assailants. They were listed in descending order based on relevance. “Joe Duke.”
“Who's that?"
“According to this, he’s one of the biggest crime bosses in the Zeta Epsilon sector. He's been brought up on charges of narcotics trafficking, racketeering, extortion, murder—but none of it has been able to stick. All of those goons that attacked you have ties to him.”
Max perked up, and a slight grin crawled on her lips. “Sounds like he warrants further investigation."
There was a knock at the door. Calhoun's image appeared on the view screen attached to the door. It was a nice security touch that allowed the occupant to see visitors, along with a wide section of the hallway.
Dylan strode to the door and pulled it open.
Calhoun looked uncomfortable. She glanced down the hallway in all directions, making sure she wasn't followed. "Mind if I come in?"
Dylan swung the door wide and stepped aside. He gestured for her to enter with his hand. “By all means."
Calhoun stepped into the suite, taking in the luxurious appoin
tments. Her eyes found Max, and a wave of concern washed over her face. "What happened?"
"It seems somebody doesn't much care for me asking questions,” Max said.
“Did this happen after you left the bar?"
Max nodded.
"Does the name Joe Duke mean anything to you?” Dylan asked.
A glimmer of recognition flashed in Calhoun's eyes. "He's a despicable man. He's on the list of Chace’s open cases. I came here to suggest looking into him, as well as Harvey Frank."
"Who's Harvey Frank?" Dylan asked.
"Smalltime trafficker. A little of this little of that. My money is on Duke. I remember Chace saying something about a veiled threat by one of Duke’s people if he didn't drop the investigation. This kind of thing happens all the time. Neither Chace nor I gave it much thought.”
“What about weapons? This Duke ever transport weapons?" Dylan asked.
"I don't know. I'd have to get into Chace’s files. See exactly what he had on him. Chace never really discussed open cases."
"Do you think Duke could be working with anybody inside the department?" Dylan asked.
Calhoun shrugged. "A few days ago, I would have said no way in hell. Today, I think anything is possible."
"What changed your mind?" Max asked. "Why did you decide to come here?"
"Reese has me shut out of the case. Says I'm too close emotionally. He won’t let me see anything. But since you've been released, there hasn't been any movement. I just want to make sure this gets followed up on and that this case is pursued to its ultimate conclusion."
"Is there anyway we can bring this Duke in for questioning?" Dylan asked.
18
"Press charges against the guys who attacked you. I can pick them up and bring them in for questioning. Maybe we can tie them to Duke," Calhoun said. “We need probable cause in order to bring Duke in himself."
Max rolled her eyes. “Why don't I just beat the information out of them?"
"Let's just do this by the book," Dylan said. “Right now you don't look like you are in the condition to beat the crap out of anybody.”