Fratricide

by Craig Martelle

  Finding nothing, he continued to the airlock, where he deposited the inspector between the Magistrate and Lindy. He tried to hug the ceiling to give them enough room.

  When the light turned green, Rivka pulled her hood back and bent down to examine the woman. Her suit had tried to seal itself, but the damage was too severe. However, it had indirectly sealed the inspector’s shipsuit beneath. Because of that, Sheila had survived. When the door popped, the medical personnel were waiting.

  Rivka thanked them and stepped aside so they could work on the victim. They left her in her suit to keep the wounds sealed, putting her on the gurney exactly as the private had delivered her and hurrying away.

  The private held the metal scythe away from those not wearing armor. When it was just Alant, Rivka, and Lindy, the Magistrate took a closer look. “What the hell is this thing, and what happened out there?”

  “Came out of nowhere, ma’am.” He held it before her but wouldn’t let her touch it. The edges were jagged, with separate quills like a feather. It looked like it was designed to shred an EVA suit and the person within.

  “We’ll see if anyone knows what this thing is or what purpose it could possibly serve on a space station.” Rivka’s lip curled in disgust. She glared at the metal, willing it to give up its secrets.

  “Want me to put it in the hangar bay?”

  Rivka nodded. “And stop by that gantry and take a lot of pictures.”

  The private backed into the airlock, cycled it, and went on his way around the other side of the station. Rivka looked around to find herself alone with Lindy.

  “You wouldn’t know the way back, would you?”

  Lindy chuckled. “Not a chance.”

  Chaz, can you get us back to where we need to go?

  I can try, Magistrate. The AI attempted to sound sincere.

  And get the construction drawings for everything related to the gantry where the inspector was injured.

  Rivka sat to the side and watched the inspectors. They shifted nervously within an environment that should have been comfortable but was exactly the opposite.

  “Marks,” the Magistrate said softly and pointed to a chair next to her. “Lindy, have everyone else wait in the corridor. Make sure they don’t talk to each other.”

  Lindy nodded and ushered the group out, closing the door behind her as she left the Magistrate alone with the wrinkly, purple alien.

  She laid her pad on the table between them and showed the structure with the pin and ram that had been responsible for the last death. She also showed the construction drawing where it was supposed to be a rigid connection. “Do you know who inspected this section?”

  Don’t ask a question you don’t know the answer to. In this instance, Marks had signed off that the structure had been built in accordance with specifications.

  He looked at the picture and then the drawing. He produced a pen-like device from his pocket, punched a button on it, and laid it next to the pad.

  He breathed softly as he stared at the picture. “You know it was me,” he admitted. “But that’s not what I inspected. We get accused all the time, so most of us, if not all, carry our own video capture. Have your AI access my spy cam. I’ve unlocked it.”

  Rivka studied it without touching the device. “Those things are illegal.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Better that than getting accused of murder or getting hammered in a lawsuit for shoddy construction.”

  Rivka opened the comm channel through her datapad and put her AI on speaker. “Chaz, can you access the video device that’s next to the pad? You should be getting an open signal.”

  “I see it. What images would you like to see?”

  “The incident labeled ‘Echo-5.’ Marry the images from the pen with those of the construction drawing.”

  The datapad started to flash stills from the video capture. It stopped on an image that looked exactly like the construction drawing, a hard point sealed with a weld and two transverse struts.

  They both leaned in to examine the image. “Date stamp on that?”

  Chaz put the date and time of the image at the bottom, then arranged the two images side by side. Four days between the inspection data and the incident that had claimed the worker’s life, and then seven more days before Rivka’s picture.

  Marks shook his head.

  “Who approved the modification and rebuild of this joint?”

  “There is no record of any modifications,” Chaz replied.

  Rivka relaxed into her chair, laced her fingers together, and stared into the distance. “We know that people are building stuff without the bots. Can they build something like this modification without technical assistance?”

  “Humanity built spaceships without the aid of artificial intelligence or welding bots. Other races are equally adept at creation, even for the purpose of destruction.”

  Marks continued to look at the images on the datapad. “We inspect to the drawings. If someone makes changes after the inspection, we can’t certify our work. We have to reinspect everything.” He hung his head at the monumental amount of work before him. “We’re going to need more people.”

  “No one is inspecting anything until we find out who is killing the workers.” Rivka tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Chaz, get me Sheila’s status, please. She may not know what happened, but I want her to live. I don’t want anyone else to die while building a damn space station.”

  “Nor I, Magistrate,” the inspector assured.

  “Who can do this work without anyone else knowing?”

  “That is the question I would love to know the answer to.” Marks’ sincerity radiated from him. Rivka could feel the strength of his emotion without having to touch him.

  “What kind of ownership do the inspectors have of the station?”

  It didn’t take Marks long to spool up his response. “It’s ours. We may not fit the plates or girders and seal the welds, but we are the last line of defense that the station is safe. It is our necks on the line if there’s a failure.”

  “That wasn’t the impression you gave me when you arrived earlier. You seemed almost indifferent to the fact that people were getting killed.” Rivka watched the pupils of his eyes, his breathing, and a vein throbbing on the side of his wrinkled neck.

  “We knew we had nothing to do with any of this. It wasn’t indifference. We honestly thought the crew was being excessively careless. We’re behind schedule, and the super is pushing hard, just like the administrator. Both those guys only see penalties for being late, not the penalty of faulty construction. They figure it’ll be good enough since everything is over-engineered.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Rivka wondered.

  “Three times greater than calculated maxes, so yes. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be completely safe. I’m concerned about a cascade failure where one item creates extreme stress on a second part, compounding with each new failure.” He tapped on the construction drawing thumbnail and it filled the datapad’s screen. “With a pivot point here versus a hard connection, the engineering throughout the rest of this structure is changed. We need new calculations, tolerances, and construction specs.”

  Rivka nodded, watching the inspector instead of the screen. Chaz would take care of the technical details, backed up by Ankh and Erasmus. Those three would validate the engineering. Her focus was on the people involved. Nothing happened without an intervention. Who was doing the building?

  “Chaz, I need every bit of footage from outside the station reviewed to confirm who worked in those areas between the moment this picture was taken and the time of the injury. Four days’ worth. I know it was already reviewed in the safety investigation, but go through it yourself with fresh eyes.”

  “I shall run through it, although you’ll have to forgive me in that I have no eyes. I submit that I can see quite well, though.”

  “My apologies, Chaz! I know you’ll be thorough. While you’re at it, if you could review the footage
on the other four incidents…make that five. Give us a look at what happened where Sheila was inspecting for four days prior.”

  “I’ll deliver my results the second I have them.”

  “I know you will, Chaz. You are eminently reliable and a valuable member of my crew.”

  Marks cocked a single heavy eyebrow with a few crazy hairs sticking out of it.

  Rivka ignored him and continued with her line of thought. “Explain the process for taking a work package, getting the material, and then doing the work.”

  “We inspect the work once it’s done. We’re not involved with the other process. You’ll have to ask them for those details. I can describe our process,” he offered.

  Rivka nodded while building within her mind roles and responsibilities, the rules of the construction road. Every bit of information was important until it wasn’t. She wouldn’t know until later. In the interim, this was the time-consuming part of the investigation. She took a deep breath and ordered a drink and a snack from the food processor installed in the room.

  “That’s not functional yet,” Marks told her after it didn’t deliver anything.

  “It’s on,” she countered, leaning to the side to avoid reflections, making sure the panel was lit.

  “But the nutrition pack transfer system is not finished. Once that hookup takes place, the processors will come online.”

  The inspector knew what was operational.

  Chaz, can you order some chow for me?

  Before the AI could respond, the door opened and Red walked in, his head bent and his armor loose on his body. He still filled the doorway, but as a normally large man and not a shambling behemoth.

  “There’s the man I first met all those years ago!” Rivka declared and hurried to give Red a hug.

  “I feel small and insignificant,” he muttered.

  Marks looked shocked, rocking back to see the big man’s face.

  “You aren’t. You never were, and will never be small or insignificant. I might even say that you’re the cat’s ass. Focus on what you are and not what you aren’t.”

  Red nodded, tight-lipped.

  “Does Lindy still love you?” Rivka asked pointedly.

  Red was taken aback. “Well, I think so.”

  “Goddamn men.” Rivka grabbed Red by the arms and shook him. “Of course, she does. You deserve each other. Now that’s the end of that. Don’t make me kick your ass in training just to put you in your place.”

  “But you can’t take me,” Red replied, stretching upward and outward before deflating slightly.

  “Damn straight, and don’t forget it! Chow is coming, so order yourself something through Chaz.”

  Red pointed to the food processor.

  “Doesn’t work yet.”

  Once Rivka was back in her seat, she returned her attention to Marks. “Where were we?”

  “Inspection processes. Sit back, this could take a while,” the inspector warned.

  Chapter Eight

  Hangar Bay Aleph, Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction

  Private Cole hovered over the mass of welding machines. The metal scythe-like contraption lay off to the side. Finn loudly sipped his shake.

  “You got one for me?” Cole asked.

  “How can you drink it when you’re wearing that thing?”

  “I don’t wear this all the time. I’ll take it off when I return to Wyatt.”

  “That’s what they all say,” the construction worker quipped.

  “I’m beginning to like you, which means when the shooting starts, I’ll kill you last.”

  “What the fuck?” Finn was unused to military humor.

  Cole had a good laugh at the man’s expense. “You need to lighten up, Frances.”

  “How did you know my name was Frances? No one knows that!” He looked around quickly. “Shut it, dude! I need that to be kept secret.”

  Cole was confused but adhered to the philosophy that sometimes he didn’t want to know. “It’ll never pass my lips again. You keep your secret if you can. The Magistrate will know, I guarantee it. And if I understand the stories about her, she’ll know why you want it kept secret too. I hope it’s nothing illegal for your sake.”

  Private Cole kept the volume low so his voice didn’t project throughout the hangar bay even though they were the only ones there. Various bubbles on the ceiling suggested a myriad of cameras were watching them.

  Magistrate, I have the welding machines and other hardware secure, Cole reported.

  I’ll be down in a few.

  “A few” was relative. More than three hours passed before Rivka appeared. She looked tired, but the private perked up. He was still in his armor. He was ready to get out of it.

  Red and Lindy strolled into the hangar bay first and checked the area, finding only Finn and Cole. Finn was sprawled on a large crate, sound asleep.

  Ankh, help me understand what I’m looking at, Rivka requested.

  Fine, the Crenellian replied. Zoom in on the machines as you separate them.

  Ankh continued to give directions until most of the machines were disassembled.

  They are manually-operated welding machines, nothing more. They don’t have a computer interface of any sort.

  I took them all apart so you could tell me they don’t apply? You knew that, didn’t you?

  You learned that these machines did not contribute to the construction anomalies. Those who operated them, on the other hand, could be involved, although I don’t think so. A manual weld is different from a machine weld. The welds at Point Echo-5 were machine welds, but the winged spear-shaped object? Please bring that to the ship for further analysis.

  It would have helped had you told me those things earlier, Rivka challenged the Crenellian. You should have been here taking these apart, not me.

  Busy. Ankh signed off after his claim.

  “That bastard,” Rivka grumbled. “You can have your machines back, Finn.” Cole stomped over and woke him up to tell him that he was free to go once he got a shake for the private.

  And the Magistrate.

  Onboard Wyatt Earp, Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction

  “These people love their jobs,” Rivka droned before sipping her shake and smiling. “If I can judge by the number of words they used to describe them.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Jay asked. She held one end of a small rope, and Floyd was tugging on the other. Wenceslaus had figured out how to climb the wall and was perched on a decorative shelf overlooking the room through slitted eyes. He had his front paws tucked underneath his chest, showing no inclination of moving.

  “It’s better than if they said nothing. They were forthcoming with information. An endless amount of information, but not much of it was useful. Still, weeding through information to find the applicable details is in a barrister’s job description.”

  Jay nodded, glancing surreptitiously at the chocolate shake. Rivka handed it over with a warning. “Don’t drink too fast. It’ll freeze your brain.”

  The young woman tucked the hair on one side of her head behind her ear and took a careful sip. She’d had one before, but every shake was a new experience. “I need Ankh to program these into our food processor.”

  “I will be forever in your debt if you can accomplish that feat.”

  Me, me! the wombat cried. Jay took the lid off the cup and held it down. Rivka sighed. She had entertained thoughts of getting another drink, but those hopes were crushed as she watched Floyd stuff her big snout into the remainder of the ice cream. More!

  “No more,” Jay told the wombat and gave her a hearty ear scratch.

  “I’m with you, sister. We need more. You work on Ankh. I have an endless amount of chaff to search to hopefully find a couple kernels of wheat.”

  The Magistrate retired to her luxury stateroom, breathing deeply of a scent she couldn’t recognize but suspected was an essential oil Jay had brought aboard to help fight the Skaine stench. Rivka wasn’t
sure the odor had not permeated even the metal of the ship. Jay was engaged in a life-and-death struggle to minimize the assault on the olfactory.

  “There you are.” On the counter next to her small kitchen, Rivka eyed a tiny bottle with brown sticks diffusing scent into the air. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the mix of fragrances. “Kudos to you, Jay and thank you. Chaz, remind me to do something for Jay when we get back home.”

  “I think you are home, Magistrate,” the AI replied.

  “Don’t be creepy, Chaz. This is our home away from home. Maybe we can refer to Station 7 as our second home.”

  “I will remind you, Magistrate. I am ready with my conclusions of the video analysis.”

  “Pray tell, Chaz. My guess is that no one went anywhere near the area in question.”

  “I would like to tell you that is the case, but I can’t,” Chaz replied.

  Rivka’s ears perked up. “We have a suspect!” she declared.

  “I can’t tell you that either, Magistrate. You see, the official feeds have been doctored. The video of Echo-5 is fake.”

  “Isn’t that interesting?” Rivka commented before taking a seat and contemplating its meaning and her next steps. “We need to find who had access to Bluto, to the storage, and to the physical video setup.”

  “I’ve begun digging into the source of the changes to the official video.”

  “Thanks, Chaz. You haven’t found anything yet?”

  “Nothing yet, Magistrate.”

  “Get help from Ankh and Erasmus if you need it.”

  The slight crackle over the speakers disappeared, suggesting Chaz had left the conversation. Rivka took a seat in her overstuffed recliner and kicked back. She brought up the large screen and started scrolling through the mind-numbing transcripts from her interviews with the inspectors. She’d have to do the same thing with the workforce, too. Every single worker who was assigned to that area.