“We don’t have long to collect evidence as to how…or when…damn it all!” Wa’ats punched the floor. “How in the Hound’s Den did Mori get to one of my people?”
“Steady on. Focus on the facts.” She’er waved to indicate their surroundings. “Jon’na’s exterminator is still holstered on the nightstand. Other than the bedclothes on the floor and this chair, which, judging by its position near the body, was likely knocked over by the victim, there’s scant evidence of violence.”
“Probably sound asleep when Mori attacked,” Wa’ats said with disgust.
“Then how did she get in?” She’er nodded at the door. “These quarters remain locked unless an occupant deliberately allows entry, and Displacers can’t mimic anything small enough to fit through the vents.”
“A break-in, then?”
“Both noisy and visible.”
Wa’ats rocked back into a seated position. “Unless someone has a multicom band equipped with a passbeam.”
The implications of that sent a shiver down She’er’s spine. “Not impossible, but unlikely. Only bridge crew and security have that level of access. None of them left the ship during the checkpoint—standard operating procedure.”
She’er sifted through memories from their original investigation. Displacement normally involves a violent assault, during which a spawn is forcibly introduced into the host’s brain through a facial orifice. “Death normally occurs instantly following implantation, though visible manifestation could take an hour or more.”
Wa’ats tried to stand, wobbled. She’er proffered a hand and Wa’ats took it with a nod. The chief’s palm was sweat-dampened either from upset or the unusually warm quarters. “Are you suggesting Jon’na was attacked elsewhere and dumped here?”
“However improbable that seems, we should trace Jon’na’s movements since boarding earlier today to determine where and when a prior attack could have occurred. In the meantime, I’ll pull the logs from all multicoms equipped with passbeams and review usage for the past twenty-odd hours.” She’er refocused on Jon’na. “Where and how aren’t the only questions demanding answers. Why is the body here?”
“What do you mean?” Wa’ats’s puzzled expression shifted to realization. “Mori left her spawn for us to find instead of hiding it somewhere to safely develop. She had to know once Jon’na was discovered we’d destroy the body.”
“Exactly. Why would she willfully sacrifice a spawn?”
Wa’ats’s brow furrowed. “Considering Displacers’ fanatical devotion to their offspring, no matter how numerous, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Indeed. But Mori’s true motives are rarely obvious.” Ah, the thrill of navigating the corridors of a twisted mind. How I’ve missed this!
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing, sorry.” She’er regained composure. “Mori may have hoped whoever found Jon’na would raise an alarm and incite panic among the passengers. Then we all would have been kept far too busy to pursue her. Still, if that’s the case, why kill an enforcer instead of a passenger?”
Wa’ats sighed. “Remember I told you one of my detail was on the hook for Mori’s escape? Jon’na was in charge of her escort to an extradition hearing the day she vanished. Though Jon’na testified that she’d already been turned over to The Scoyard’s guards, the blowback of having been the IEA representative on the scene resulted in a severe reprimand. It prompted Jon’na to beg onto my Retrieval detail in pursuit of career redemption.”
“So, we have a connection between victim and aggressor, however tenuous.” She’er raked fingers through curls several times. “Mori could simply be out for revenge. She certainly tweaked your nose by taking out one of your people.”
Wa’ats’s breath caught. “If you’re right, she might not be content with just the one. Thus eliminating the danger my detail poses to her plans and utterly humiliating me.” Wa’ats tapped a lapel com pin. “Retrieval! Converge on—”
“Careful.” She’er pulled Wa’ats’s hand away. “Don’t further her efforts by sending a stampede of enforcers through my ship, or you will create the very chaos she desires.”
Wa’ats nodded, and She’er let go. “Belay that. Underchief Victria and Enforcer Clo’or, report to Enforcer Jon’na’s quarters on Deck Three for a briefing immediately. Don’t draw attention to your movements. Acknowledge.”
Each responded in the affirmative. Wa’ats tapped off the com and looked so distraught that She’er impulsively offered a hug. “Courage, my dear. We bested Mori before and will again. Remember, logic over emotion. She preys on the latter.”
“Easy for you to say.” Wa’ats pulled away. “You’re always able to remain detached, no matter whose feelings are involved.”
She’er tried not to show how much Wa’ats’s barb stung. “In my experience, rational detachment improves most situations.”
The nearly forgotten Ca’ar interrupted with a throat-clearing noise. “Captain, Security is arriving.”
Two more members of ship’s security entered, pushing a gurney with a body bag on top of it. They were unexpectedly followed by Le’es. “Second?” said She’er. “There was no need for you to leave the bridge.”
“I beg your indulgence, Captain,” said Le’es, clasping hands and bowing too low again. “Given the tone of Crew Ca’ar’s report I thought it best I oversee the disposition personally.”
She’er considered Ca’ar’s traumatized state and reluctantly agreed. “I trust in your discretion, then.”
Le’es said curtly, “Of course, Captain,” and immediately shifted attention to supervising the process.
Perhaps you’ll make an effective First Seat yourself someday, Le’es. The older officer had served on multiple transgalactic cruisers, rising through the ranks to Second Seat shortly before joining the Ba’akre 221B’s crew. She’er didn’t know Le’es well despite their having worked together for a year, but had observed enough to ascertain Le’es was an ambitious sort.
The removal team wheeled Jon’na’s body into the hallway. She’er was about to follow when Wa’ats said, “I didn’t mean to dredge anything up.”
She’er sighed and pulled Wa’ats to the far side of Jon’na’s room. “Then why did you?”
“Because your continued deception is distracting!”
Taken aback, She’er demanded, “What do you mean?”
“Your enthusiasm at this horror confirms what I’ve suspected.” Wa’ats poked the center of She’er’s chest. “You hate that you gave up your career with the IEA. The only reason you pitched replacing the family I lost, as if that were a thing anyone could do, was to repay me for saving your life!”
Startled by Wa’ats’s keen observation, She’er hesitated. It’s more than that. I just love you so much that I wanted to ease your pain. “No, I…want a family. I do.”
“Then why aren’t we one already?” Wa’ats sucked in a breath and spoke more quietly. “You act like I don’t understand how difficult it would be on you, or that morphing male would be a treat for me. I’ve done it before, remember, despite the discomfort and inconvenience.”
“I’m well aware of what you did for your first spouse.” She’er grimaced. Stop it, you sound like a jealous teenager!
“Like I told you before, your fear of how morphing female would affect you,” Wa’ats tapped a temple, “is unreasonable.”
“It’s basic biochemistry,” She’er retorted. “Multiple studies have identified a marked difference in mental acuity when Londlanders are in our natural asexual state as opposed to while female. Or male.”
“It’s temporary. You can morph back to normal right after weaning.”
She’er sighed. “That isn’t all there is to consider. We both know I received this commission largely because of my fame back home, and not due to experience or even my admittedly stellar marks on the captaincy assessments. Taking a couple years off when I’ve only occupied the First Seat for a year would be pushing my luck.”
“Plenty of captains have families, love. They just take their children along on trips sometimes.”
Arms folded tightly, She’er said, “It’s all so simple for you, isn’t it? And why not, when other than a brief physical change, parenthood wouldn’t disrupt your life one whit!”
“Look, I’d be more than willing to be the one who morphed female if I were younger. Whatever it took to produce a child, and just as eagerly as I would have for Ma’ar.”
“Yet even back then you didn’t, and look how well that turned out.” Wa’ats recoiled as though struck. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to belittle that loss. I know you still mourn Ma’ar and your baby. Why do you think I want—”
Wa’ats’s expression hardened into steel. “No, I apologize. This whole conversation is completely inappropriate.” The chief marched out of the room.
She’er slowly counted to ten and followed, catching up to Wa’ats and the security team in the corridor just as a pair of enforcers arrived. “Please keep all civilians away from the crime scene, Captain,” said Wa’ats, once more a model of professional detachment. “If, after my people’s examination of Jon’na’s quarters, we find anything you need to know, you’ll be notified.”
“Fine. I’ll deploy the remainder of ship’s Security to patrol covertly against subsequent attacks.”
Without responding, Wa’ats directed the enforcers to search every inch of the crime scene. “I will accompany the body myself and see to its thorough examination before incineration.”
She’er started to object, but decided against it. Wa’ats won’t listen anyway.
And whose fault is that?
The captain stormed back to quarters, eager to refocus on the peaceful, emotionless complexity of deduction once more.
• • •
She’er drummed fingertips on the armrest of the First Seat, irritable from lack of sleep and attention split between overseeing the mundanities of shipboard operations, the case, and last night’s row with Wa’ats. “Second, still no word from Chief Wa’ats?”
“No, Captain. Not since your spou…” She’er glared at Le’es. “Er, the chief dismissed me after we reached Refuse.”
Is there really no evidence worth sharing with me, Wa’ats? Or are you so furious that you’re excluding me from the investigation out of spite? She’er couldn’t believe Wa’ats would do that, no matter how miffed, but it was harder to believe absolutely nothing of relevance had been found. Even a total absence of clues would be noteworthy.
“Captain?”
She’er blinked, wondering how long Third Seat Shil’lir had been standing there. “What is it?”
Flinching, Shil’lir thrust forth a thinscreen like a shield. “Begging your pardon, Captain. I have the reports you requested.”
She’er snatched the thinscreen from the nervous junior officer’s hands and immediately regretted it. No wonder the crew is skittish around you. She’er affected a genial tone. “Thank you, Third. Please continue reviewing the morning checklist with the Second Seat.”
“Aye, Captain.” Shil’lir retreated, obviously relieved to be assigned to a less mercurial supervisor.
She’er read through the comprehensive reports. Besides Jon’na’s murder, there had been no suspicious incidents since the IEA’s arrival, and no unauthorized use of a passbeam. Though not impossible for a determined villain to falsify a multicom’s log, it was highly improbable.
“You had days. So why not displace anyone before the IEA boarded?” She’er muttered. “How did you infest Jon’na without a struggle? Did you drug—”
She’er realized the crew were casting confused glances in the First Seat’s direction. As one does when one’s commanding officer natters aloud to nobody in particular. “Second,” She’er said gruffly, “please track down Chief Wa’ats. Third, assume the Second Seat.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Shil’lir, folding hands and bowing.
“Aye.” Once again, Le’es’s version was just exaggerated enough to cross from respectful to contemptuous.
Enough already! “You need to refine your acknowledgement of me, Second! It’s this.” She’er rose and demonstrated the precise salute. “Otherwise, you might as well be telling me to go screw myself! Unless that’s exactly your intent?”
The entire bridge fell silent except for Shil’lir, who couldn’t contain a small gasp. The crew quickly directed their full attention to their consoles.
Le’es’s eyes blazed with such anger that She’er nearly backed up a step. Yet within the span of a blink the anger vanished, replaced with an affectation of subservience. Executing a flawless salute, Le’es said, “My apologies, Captain. I thank you for the lesson.”
“Accepted.” But suspicion fired She’er’s senses as Le’es left the bridge, stiff posture and aggressively squared shoulders belying the apology.
“Captain?” said Shil’lir. “Incoming message from the IEA.”
“Relay it.” She’er remained distracted by Le’es’s behavior, unable to find the sense in it. Nothing untoward had occurred between them before now to warrant such blatant animosity.
“Captain, Underchief Victria,” said the enforcer in a Parancian accent. “Apologies for disturbing you, but Chief Wa’ats, is there?”
A flicker of dread. “No. Why do you ask?”
“The chief missed our morning briefing and has responded to hails not at all.”
She’er clutched the back of the First Seat. Wa’ats is utterly scrupulous about such things. Meaning this lack of contact might not be a fit of pique after all. “No, I haven’t heard from my…your chief since last night. I just sent my Second to—”
She’er froze. Oh, I am a fool. A rusty, blind idiot!
“Captain?” Victria said tentatively.
“Please rendezvous with me in Refuse immediately. I believe Chief Wa’ats is in grave danger.” Or worse, after so many hours have passed. “Be prepared for containment, as I suspect your quarry will also be waiting.”
“As you say, Captain. We meet there within twenty minutes, yes?”
“I will be there in five. Kindly accelerate your timetable.” She’er ended contact without awaiting a response. “Third Seat, assume the First.”
“I, uh, really? I mean, aye, Captain!”
She’er crossed the bridge in five long strides, opened the weapons locker, and withdrew a suppressor. It wouldn’t offer much protection, but it was all that was available since they weren’t a military vessel. After double-checking that it was fully charged, the captain sprinted off the bridge.
A vice tightened around She’er’s heart. Wa’ats was right that someone used a passbeam to enter Jon’na’s room, but wrong about Mori boarding during the checkpoint. No, she’d mimicked someone before their trip began, and been onboard all along. It wasn’t beyond her capabilities to have transmitted false intel to lure Wa’ats, while delaying her first attack to coincide with the IEA’s arrival in order to maintain her cover.
Ah, Le’es. All those little affronts. Insisting on overseeing Jon’na’s disposition personally—but not out of devotion to duty.
To rescue a spawn from incineration.
• • •
She’er listened intently, but it was difficult to hear anything over the steady susurrus coming from the huge incinerator at the center of Refuse. The steel-plated walls and flooring trapped the moist heat, making the air oppressive.
“Captain? Good, I found something for you.” She’er whirled and aimed the suppressor at Le’es, whose gaze traveled slowly down the barrel. Le’es raised both hands. “Uh, there’s no need for that.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” She’er kept the weapon trained dead center of Le’es’s chest. “I know who you are.”
They glared at one another for several heartbeats. Then: “Permission to speak plainly, Captain?”
“Please do.”
Le’es’s deferential expression dissolved into a sneer. “This just proves you’re utterly unqualified for command. By t
he Hound’s bloody claws, how you managed to snatch the First Seat at all, let alone hold onto it for a year, is unfathomable.”
She’er blinked. “I’m not here to discuss my qualifications with a murderous megalomaniac, thank you very much. Where is Chief Wa’ats?”
“Oh, right. Your wayward spouse.” Le’es made a tsking sound. “This way.”
They walked toward a storeroom behind the incinerator, where racks of broken and obsolete machinery were stored. “I figured I’d retrace the chief’s steps starting from where we last saw one other. Turns out I didn’t have to go beyond my first stop.”
Le’es pointed to an archway leading into the storeroom. “I’d just spotted the chief when you showed up. Probably indulged in a bit too much irewhisk.” A derisive snort. “You’ve driven me to do the same more than once. Being married to you must require barrels’ worth.”
This isn’t going quite as expected. She’er moved cautiously past Le’es and backed into the narrow, dimly lit room. The sight of a figure on the med gurney (why wasn’t that removed after the incineration?) quickly captured the captain’s full attention.
“Wa’ats!” Shoving the suppressor into a belt holster, She’er dashed over and began examining the motionless chief. Still alive, thank the Hound’s Keeper. But Wa’ats was breathing raggedly, eyes closed. Closer examination revealed bruises, including a sizeable one purpling the left temple. Dried blood formed rivulets from the injury.
Fury tinting everything red, She’er charged at Le’es, who was propelled backward against the incineration unit. “I’ll see the life fried out of you for this, Mori!”
“Mori…who? What are you going on about—ow!” Le’es struggled but She’er pinned the Second Seat against the steel casing. “You’re burning me, you maniac!”
“I ought to toss you right into this incinerator, along with that spawn I’m sure you rescued! I knew you wouldn’t sacrifice it. Unfortunately for you both, the IEA will be joining us momentarily!”
“Well, thank the Hound’s Keeper for that,” gasped Le’es, face aglow from the sweltering heat. “I’ll have more than your captaincy for this. You should be locked away!”
Baker Street Irregulars Page 12