by Gary Starta
All the scientists seemed to share one goal in common in that they wanted to enrich the lives of others. All who held dear to this credo managed to carry this desire across the threshold that transformed them from human being to human hybrid. However, those whose true nature was to serve themselves also held onto their own belief systems. One android aeronautics engineer who went by the name of Mikola Petrovsky still subscribed to “the what’s in it for me?” objective. Before his death, Petrovsky reasoned he would “allow” McElroy’s procedure to be performed on him so he could eventually take credit for exposing the “cybernetic mad scientist.” He also wanted to maintain his reputation as a “brilliant engineer” by helping to secure the success of the Ceres colonization mission. But there was still one more objective Mikola wanted to attain. That little side project was known as revenge. If Mikola would be able to recall that his mind had been placed in an artificial body, those who supported the engineering of robotic life forms would surely be made to pay.
Mikola’s wife Nadia was one person who still believed small miracles were possible. She opted to believe—much for her own sanity’s sake—that her husband’s disposition could turn over like a new leaf. “He may become a good-hearted person upon his cybernetic resurrection,” she told herself before their deaths. However, the safe bet was that Mikola’s heart would remain the crusty type of dried up leaf you would find on an autumn lawn. Deep down, Nadia knew the prospects of Mikola’s demeanor taking on the allegorical equivalent of a vibrant sapling leaf were bleak.
Adrian McElroy also suspected as much. Mikola’s eyes did seem to possess a strange sparkle…
Chapter 5: Meet Me in the Middle
For eight Earth months Linda Dougherty kept McElroy’s news to herself. In that time, her husband Matt had come out stasis, Marisa and Mario Perez had completed their six month cycle of hibernation and the mayor of Ceres’ first settlement had been named.
There had been several times when Linda thought she could confide in her husband about her secret. However, Dougherty found herself hesitating several times just as she about to spill the beans. The morale counselor and former acting captain thanked her lucky stars each time she managed to suppress the news. Linda knew it was inevitable that her crew mates as well as a few billion people back on Earth would eventually learn the Ceres scientists had been replaced by androids. But as the saying goes, timing is everything. Linda’s uncanny instinct told she would have regretted divulging the secret to Matt while they were still aboard the ship. She noticed her husband often festered an arrogant attitude regarding his duties as ship’s captain. This unflattering quality was probably nurtured during his tenure as manager of a Fortune 500 computer firm, she surmised. Linda was grateful that her husband could leave that stubborn trait at the door when they were back on Earth. But now they were inseparable 24/7 and Linda was forced to endure some of his errant editorials about ship protocol.
Matt complained that his shipmates seemed to possess a lax attitude that was not present before his last round of cryo-stasis. Linda contended that the civilians needed a mental break before they were asked to take the first step onto their new home. She explained that the play, the contests and Steve’s obsession with the Holo-Voyage game were all part of a master plan to help them cope with living in another galaxy. The counselor believed a large amount of recreational time now would benefit the crew later.
Linda would have won this argument hands down with her husband if she could have told him about the stressful situation now taking place on Ceres. Linda would have scored further points if she and the crew were appraised of the space association murder investigation. However, World Aeronautics Association officials chose to block news transmissions of the murders for fear of “harming the fragile psyche of the space travelers.”
So Linda took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to win these arguments with Matt for the time being.
For Marisa and Mario Perez, little time was spent in argument. The couple spent the majority of their days making love in their quarters upon coming out of stasis. No one would deny that the pair were deeply attracted to each other and quite horny after their long sleep. However, the main objective for their passionate behavior was to become the first parents of Ceres. Although the maneuvering of the ship made conception quite difficult, Marisa and Mario were at least going to get an “A” for effort.
Matt often joked with his wife that her voracious love making was literally sucking the blood out of his head. “You know I’ve still got to be able to think when we reach Ceres,” he complained all too unconvincingly. “Will you please allow me to keep some brain cells so our child doesn’t think daddy is a caveman, Marisa.” These types of comments started to become a ritual after each session of love making. So much so, that Marisa threatened to wear ear plugs and blare Marlena Stephanovich music at high decibels. Mario eventually suggested that they allow the ship’s AI to decide if his jokes were amusing. He then reneged on that offer realizing that the AI was also not programmed for humor much like his wife.
Marisa silently forgave her husband for his comments. The California native realized that Mario’s sense of humor was one of the initial qualities she had been attracted to. She had a deep seated longing to meet someone who could put her mind at ease and Mario fit the bill. Marisa never cared to admit this desire to anyone. Years of emotional neglect from her parents had made Maria harbor resentment to people who seemed to live carefree lives. She now was one of those carefree people thanks to her husband.
When not engaged in quarrels and love making, the civilian couples managed to squeeze time in to vote for the name of the first Ceres settlement. The vote was unanimous to name the new town, Reliance Point. Votes were tallied for each name entry. The author of each contest entry was kept anonymous. Linda’s believed this voting procedure was successful in eliminating a vote based upon personal favoritism because the winning author turned out to be Steven Carlisle. Although everybody liked Steven, Linda believed he never would have gained his crewmates trust to become their mayor if the entries were not kept anonymous. When Linda announced Steven as the winner, the majority of the crew seemed stunned into silence for a brief minute. The shipmates then slowly started applauding following the cue of Linda Dougherty and Mia Carlisle. Even Steven was slow to accept his victory. “I never really thought I would be put in a command situation—well, other than being the captain in Holo-Voyage,” he confided.
“Don’t worry Steven, you’ll do just fine,” Jon Sanderson shouted out. “This is a much better lot than portraying a senior citizen who gets killed by a security guard,” Sanderson joked in reference to the play they had performed.
Linda reminded everybody that Steven’s appointment was unofficial in the eyes of the federation. However, she couldn’t resist complimenting Steven on his name choice. “Reliance Point has an air of dignity and independence,” she announced. Linda then quietly pondered how her shipmates would need every ounce of those qualities to successfully settle a planet that unbeknown to them consisted entirely of androids.
Chapter 6: Organized Crime
Renee Mercer didn’t happen to end up working for Ken Copperfield by chance. His appointment to executive security officer of the World Aeronautics Association was well orchestrated like a Vivaldi symphony about fifteen years ago.
Apparently, the adage—“it’s not what you know, but who you know”—rings true even for diabolical men like Mercer. These arrogant types network like any other executive to rise up the ladder. They are usually recognized by peers who are also hellbent on believing they are above the law.
Mercer spent nearly two decades working a detective’s detail for the Virginia PD. Here, he became well acquainted with manipulating outcomes and kicking people when they were down. Mercer felt his talents were almost going to remain unrecognized until the day he met the space association president.
Prior to that meeting, the feisty detective blurred the line of morality to suit his own needs. Plantin
g evidence was never a problem for Mercer’s conscious as long as he believed the perp was guilty. Renee was judge, jury and executioner in the brand of law he practiced. Mercer did not discriminate when meting out his sentences. Whether you were a high profile criminal or street thug, Mercer used the same amount of vigor to judge and assess your character. It did not matter to Renee whether his judgments were based upon your prior crimes or a hunch that you were about to go down the wrong path. When the detective had made up his mind about you, there would be no plea bargaining for lighter sentences. Mercer frequently beefed up evidence by garnishing a crime scene with drugs or weapons to assure a conviction. Mercer felt his hunches would never result in the conviction of an innocent man. Those in the department who caught on to Mercer’s methods, quickly learned to look the other way. His arrest and conviction record earned the department high honors in the eyes of the public and these accolades translated into a bigger budget. Hence, a bigger paycheck was enjoyed by all police employees.
Mercer was surprisingly never quite satisfied with his work because he could never truly understand the motivation of the criminals he processed. Many times he discovered a murder or robbery was committed over a small amount of money or because someone’s temper had gotten the best of them in the heat of the moment. Mercer surmised if he had gone to all the trouble of planning and committing a crime, he would certainly make sure he was properly compensated. But Mercer was a long way off from receiving the type of compensation he deemed proper. His annual salary certainly wasn’t the motivating factor as to why the police veteran pursued each and every case with the zeal of a rookie. Mercer had a passion. And this passion was recognized one day when Renee brought a movie actor to justice.
Mercer knew film star Michael Andrews was guilty as sin when he was accused of knifing his girlfriend to death. The net icon had been vacationing on Virginia Beach when the murder took place. It was late at night on a desolate stretch of beach when the victim, Gloria Eason, succumbed to the wounds of a carving blade. Andrews laughed in Mercer’s face as he cuffed him because the movie star had tossed the weapon into the Atlantic Ocean. Renee knew he would have to work fast to find a knife which could duplicate the type of wounds Eason had suffered. The detective would also have to affix a DNA sample of Andrews to the weapon.
Renee correctly guessed that the knife had been obtained from a nearby beach restaurant proving that the murder was pre-meditated. Money was then shoved at the restaurant owner to keep his mouth shut while Mercer tested the knife by plunging it into a fresh side of beef. Minutes later, an elated Mercer emerged from the eatery with his “murder weapon.” The detective knew this type of carving knife was used to kill the woman. Next, Mercer had to solve how he would obtain DNA, preferably a finger print, from Andrews. The star had been released on bail and was lodging at a Williamsburg hotel. Mercer boldly decided to confront the star at 2 o’clock in the morning. Posing as room service, Renee gained access to the room and surprised the groggy actor. “I know you did it, you bastard!” Mercer shouted at Andrews. “Why don’t you show me how?” the detective continued in a taunting manner. “I bet you’re not man enough to take this knife from my hand and use it on me just like you used it on Gloria Eason.” Andrews then took the bait and grabbed onto the handle of the knife. A shouting match ensued as the actor called Mercer a “lunatic” and threw the knife onto the floor. This was all Mercer needed. The star’s prints were now firmly placed upon on the weapon. He grabbed the knife and stormed out of the hotel before the actor could get another word out of his mouth. The next stop was the coroner’s body storage room. It was just before sunrise when Mercer stuck the knife into Gloria’s corpse. And presto—Mercer now had a murder weapon complete with the victim’s blood and the suspect’s prints.
Headline stories about the trial filled the both the electronic and paper pages of the Newport News which Kenneth Copperfield diligently read each morning. The star maintained his innocence by arguing he had been set up by Mercer. However, forensic experts as well as the jury were sufficiently convinced that the prints on the knife proved he was the murderer. The space association president read between the lines of the story and knew Mercer had planted a phony knife. Copperfield kept the name of this vigilante detective in the back of his mind. “There’ll come a day when I’ll need his help,” he reasoned.
That day came about a year later when Copperfield’s son, George, killed a man in what was labeled as a hate crime. This time, Mercer would be asked to free a man he knew was guilty. Renee ignored his conscious and planted evidence on a repeat offender who had just been released from jail to get Copperfield’s son acquitted. Mercer reasoned that this was the day he would forfeit his personal crusade to obtain his proper compensation. That compensation came in the form of a high paying executive position at the space agency. Mercer now had a boss who would appreciate his talents.
One week after assuming his executive duties at the W.A.A., Mercer decided to celebrate his promotion. Fueled by liquor, Renee shouted out the window of the corporate high rise, “I have the power!”
This type of arrogant attitude continued to be simmered and stirred over the next fifteen years like a fine stew. It had come to a fine boil by the time Renee faced the space tech problem. He was more than ready to fix a couple of smart ass space technicians. Mercer felt his solution to the problem proved you could have your cake and eat it too. He had just about convinced the world that the space association murders were a crime of passion. Renee felt invincible, especially in the eyes of reporter Kay Jennings. If one could see Mercer’s pompous demeanor in a mirror, it would shine like a newly polished bowling trophy. Mercer also silently mocked the incompetency of his former police associates who were light years away from the truth.
Riding high from this latest power trip, Mercer’s head could not have gotten any bigger. Renee believed there was no way an idiot like Jeff Turner could convince police he was involved in the killings. “Even if evidence can be used against me, all I have to do is bend the rules a little. Just like the way I used to do it on the force. Poor little Jeff Turner, you’re just a pawn in my chess game.” Mercer then propped his feet up on his desk and took a long sip of his banana-flavored liqueur.
Something was eating away at the insides of CSI Sandra Morton. The forensic scientist caught herself staring at her reflection in her vehicle’s rear view mirror more than once on her trip back to the crime lab. So did her partner, Samuel Benson, who rode alongside her in the coach. However, Benson did not inquire why Morton kept glancing at herself. Samuel was too exhausted from the processing work they had just completed at Bob Schmitt’s apartment.
Sandra did not want to admit she was bothered that another birthday would rear its ugly head in one week. The CSI noticed flecks of white hair in her long, black mane over the course of the past few months. The forty-something crime worker did not want to acknowledge the color alteration of her scalp. Sandra believed the white hairs would disappear if she kept a vigilant watch over them. She somehow equated the white hair intrusion with evidence. If you stared at them long enough you might just come up with another conclusion. Unfortunately, for Sandra, time was a master at planting conclusive evidence. The hair color change signaled Morton would soon start looking her age. If she was not working the biggest case of the century, Sandra would have programmed her bath center to automatically color her hair in the shower. But there was no time for this kind of vanity. The last four days had allowed the CSI’s little time for nutrition, sleep or luxurious baths.
As the coach navigated itself away from Reston, Morton realized her hair color was not the only thing that was bothering her. Was she getting a hunch? Sandra fought this notion as hard as she could. She did not want to run her cases on speculation and suspicions. Her partner was prone to these types of weaknesses probably because of his inexperience on the job. Still, Morton’s inner voice told her they should seek out the whereabouts of the courier as soon as possible.
The pair had li
stened to a verbal recording of Turner’s prior arrest records. Jeff had been arrested, but never convicted of petty theft crimes. “If this man is involved in these murders, he would probably take the first opportunity to flee the sector that he could. Maybe that is why he left his data net device behind.” Morton was also troubled that the courier had used an alias. “I know he’s bad news, but I don’t have substantial evidence to confirm my theory,” Sandra’s inner voice complained.
Morton then uncharacteristically let out a long sigh. “Sam, I feel we have to pursue this courier before we go back to the crime lab. I know this compulsion is just a hunch. I also know you’ll never let me live this down if I’m wrong. Do you agree with my assessment?”
Benson then squirmed uneasily in his seat. “I’m trying to be objective as possible, Sandra. But I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to do this job without a few nagging premonitions. It’s your call—but I fully support your orders as both my superior and my friend.”
Morton allowed a small smile to crease her face. Commanding the coach to a full stop, the lead CSI programmed the vehicle to prepare for an air launch. “Hold on tight, Sam. We’re headed for Norfolk International Airport.”
As the coach jettisoned itself towards the Virginia coast, the CSI’s quietly contemplated the scenario they might face at the airport. A surge of adrenaline shot through both their bodies which effectively masked the weariness they had been experiencing the past few days. The investigators often cited evidence examination as their most effective tool for bringing criminals to justice. But deep down, they relished the possibility of capturing a suspect via hot pursuit. Forensic analysis just didn’t garner the same amount of newspaper space as a good old-fashioned manhunt.