by Tom Shepherd
Inspector Platte was speaking into his datacom but waved a free hand, beckoning Suzie. She listened while he reported to Tyler and J.B. on Lovey Frost’s status.
“She’s out of surgery. Nobody here speaks Terran, but one of the blue docs knows some Japanese. God knows why.”
Demarcus had spent eight years at Tsuchiya Galactic’s Nagoya Colony before assuming his post with Matthews Interstellar on Sedalia-3. His Japanese wasn’t as good as Rosalie’s, but Platte was passably fluent in the language.
“The doctor said—if I understood him right—Lieutenant Frost will be sedated and placed in a biosphere with conditions similar to Earth’s environment. She needs a few days in there to recover completely.”
“Can we visit?” Tyler said through the datacom.
“My first question, too. The Japanese speaking doc said not until tomorrow. Something about QT pathogens mutating after contact with bacteria in her digestive tract and the human auto-immune system.”
“That’s amazing work, Inspector,” Tyler said.
“Not really. The doc couldn’t always find the right word, so he switched back and forth, Japanese to Pharmaadoodil. I’m filling in the blanks. Probably missed a lot.”
“Is Suzie there?” Tyler said.
“Yeah, she did her magic zappo a minute ago. I’ll let her communicate with the hospital staff next time.”
“Sounds like you’re doing okay,” Tyler said. “Tell her to meet us at the Henry soon as the Hub Security detail arrives. But guards or not, I need you to watch over Lovey until somebody from the ship relieves you.”
“I’m on the job, Boss.”
“I’m not certain who the killer robots were targeting,” Tyler said. “Could have been Lovey. They may try again. Watch yourself, Dee.”
“Always. You, too.”
Suzie touched his shoulder. “Inspector Platte, for a rozzer, you’re a real corker.”
He grinned. “I assume that’s good.”
“Bloody marvelous.”
A handful of blue technicians screeched when Suzie materialized in the galley of the Patrick Henry. Guards rushed up from the cargo bay, weapons drawn, no doubt expecting another assassination attempt. Dorla León, Paco’s portly wife, burst from the storeroom armed with cans of tuna, ready to defend her kitchen. When she saw Suzie and heard the approaching guards, Dorla intercepted the assault, waving a tuna can like a grenade. Suzie spoke to the guards in Pharmaadoodil, and the stand-off ended.
“Where is Tyler?” Suzie said.
“Conference Room,” Dorla said. “Getting a briefing from that goofy little Quirty sent by Mr. Blue. I sent Ulrika to take notes.”
Suzie slipped into the glass-walled meeting room and found an empty seat next to Tyler. Erkinood Atbarasoo stood at the far end, answering questions. Ulrika, the Scandinavian hologram Dorla León designated as the firm’s executive secretary, looked up from her datapad and offered Suzie some coffee.
“No thanks, luv. I’ll get my own.”
“How’s Lovey, any change?” Rosalie said.
“Post-operative stasis,” Suzie said. “They expect a full recovery. What did I miss here?”
“Sash is telling us about the murder scene,” J.B. said. “Mr. Blue allegedly shot the King in the First Queen’s bedchamber, no less.”
“Witnesses?” Suzie said.
“Queen Veraposta herself,” Sash said cheerily. “A bitchin’ witness for the prosecution. My man Zenna-Zenn’s is a cooked moose.”
“A what?” J.B. said.
“His moose is cooked. Did I mispronounce it?”
“Don’t follow up, “ Tyler advised. “What’s the prosecution’s theory of the motive?”
Sash tried to grunt, but it sounded like a cough. “Don’t need no motive, yo. They collared the suspect at the crime scene, murder weapon in hand.”
“Tell us exactly what happened,” J.B. said. “Stick to simple Terran.”
“I be riding the mean Terran streets like a biker dude.”
Tyler and J.B. shook their heads.
“So, like I was rapping at y’all, either the Z-man did the dirty deed, or we be looking at an unsub.”
“A what?” J.B. said.
“Unknown subject,” Suzie said. “Twenty-first century cop slang on the telly.”
Rosalie spoke gently. “Sash, I speak Pharmaadoodil. Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll translate?”
“Naw, man. I want to parley-voo in the Terran bingo.”
Tyler put his forehead on the table and banged three times.
J.B. leapt up, shaking a fist. “Let Rosalie translate!”
Sash’s smile faded. “Well, okay, if you really think it’s necessary. My facility in your language is fairly substantial. I just wanted to help by speaking informally among friends.”
Suzie said, “Hon, can you talk Terran Standard like that consistently?”
“Sure, but—”
“Good. Do it.” Suzie glanced at Tyler. “Your witness.”
J.B. took his seat, still fuming.
Tyler began slowly. “If they ‘collared’ him at the crime scene, how did he end up on Sedalia at the other end of the freakin’ galaxy?”
“Well, they didn’t actually catch him in the act,” Sash said. “The murder weapon was left in a skimmer that Zenna hijacked to make his escape to a spaceport. Witnesses put him at the scene of the crime.”
“What was Prince Zenna-Zenn doing in the Queen’s bedchamber?”
“I assume they were having coitus.”
“Are we talking about Mr. Blue?” J.B. said. “I can’t imagine anything exciting him but a pile of unguarded cheeseburgers.”
“The First Queen is Zenna’s wife number three, so he had the right to mount her in consensual sex, provided the First Husband, the late High King, didn’t preempt his arrangement. Although sometimes unmarried Quirt-Thymeans share beds. Three are nice, four better, but five! Oh, five lovers are glorious.”
Tyler waved a hand at his sister. “Rosalie? Exo-anthropologist needed. I can’t follow. I thought extra-marital affairs were a no-no.”
“Not your fault. Deciphering their kinship and mating system could keep a social scientist employed for life. Nuances and unspoken agreements vary depending on level of society, zones of ethnic origin, and seasons of the year. And they have nine seasons. So, yes. As Third Husband, Mr. Blue was within his rights to make love to Veraposta in her bedchamber, if she invited him.”
“Does that mean he was third in line to be Emperor?” J.B. said.
“Naw, dawg! He be banging her like a bongo drum, but that don’t mean—”
“Stop!” J.B. said.
His long blue ears drooped. “Sorry, sorry.”
Tyler wagged a finger in his blue face. “Sash, if you don’t stay in Terran Standard, I’m going to sic the Company dinosaur on you.”
Sash laughed, then frowned. “For real, you got a dinosaur?”
“Just the facts, please,” Rosalie urged.
Lucy the cat hopped into her lap and snuggled down. Tyler was fairly certain the shape-shifter had been following the conversation and wanted a better view.
“Okay, okay.” Sash sat back, glancing at Lucy, who meowed. “Is that a dog?”
“Yes,” Tyler said. “If she wants to be. Keep talking.”
Sash shrugged. “Zenna-Zenn? He’s only an ancillary sub-prince, so his marriage group is one level below high royalty. Ancillaries get one mate in the highest caste, mainly because there aren’t enough people in high royalty for good genetic variety. Nothing worse than feckless sex, right? But marrying up raises their placement in the line of succession only a little.”
“Sounds like old Manhattan,” J.B. said dryly.
“This scenario smells fishy,” Tyler said. “If Indigo could screw the Queen whenever their schedules matched up, why did he kill the King? He couldn’t advance to the throne. He already had access to the lady in question. Jealousy doesn’t sound like a bi
g factor in Quirt society. Am I missing something, Rosalie?”
“No, you’re right. The Azules are a nun’s nightmare. Completely guiltless about sex and pleasure.”
“So, what would motivate Mr. Blue to murder the King?” Tyler said.
“Maybe he threatened to kick Zenna-Zenn out of Queen Veraposta’s marriage group,” J.B. offered.
“Lovey said the bastard liked to do that,” Tyler said. “Is that what happened, Sash?”
He shook his ears. “Well—”
Tyler raised a hand. “Your first job, Investigator Sash, is to find the facts. Do you have enough social status to question the Queen?”
“I can do that, dawg! I’m Third Tier nobility. What a groovy consignment.”
“Get me admissible evidence,” Tyler said. “If Indigo didn’t do it, we’re looking for your unsub.”
A datacom beeped, and Executive Secretary Ulrika took the call. She muted the speaker. “Arabella reports an emergency holographic transmission from Kansas City. It’s Mr. Matthews. I mean, your father. He has attempted to make contact for the last five hours. He wants to speak to all family members aboard.”
J.B. sent Ulrika to find Julieta and Esteban, and Tyler dismissed Sash with an admonition to get down to the surface and interview the Queen.
“What does The Old Man want now?” Tyler said. “Why all of us?”
“I hope Aunt Camilla got the elixir in time,” J.B. said.
“Last Apexcom message said Auntie was responding well to the treatment for late stage Blue Fever,” Rosalie said. “Doctors were ecstatic.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not about Aunt Camilla,” Tyler said. “But something has gone bad.”
“What a bloody pessimist you are,” Suzie said.
“You don’t know him,” Tyler said. “Dad never calls unless there’s a crisis.”
Julieta and Esteban arrived, breathless and brimming with the same questions about their mother, Camilla Solorio. Her condition had been hopeless until Tyler stole packets of the healing-rejuvenating elixir which Suryadivans were extracting under torture from the gentle Zyn-Vorkan.
At first Julietainvoked the Hippocratic Oath and refused the treatment on ethical grounds, even without another cure available for her dying mother. She accepted the remedy only after Tyler assured her the Zyn-Vorkan patriarch, Father Yajik, released the elixir to save Camilla.
“What’s this about?” Esteban said. “Is Mother—?”
“We have no idea what Dad wants,” J.B. said. “But it’s unlikely to be about your mother.”
“You don’t know that,” Julieta sapped.
Esteban put an arm across her shoulders. “Hermana, J.B. speaks from the heart.”
Julieta nodded. “Sorry, Bear. It’s my mother, you know.”
Suzie raised a hand. “I’m receiving Apexcom holographic telemetry.”
Although Suzie began her existence as a sentient computer program, she elected to evolve from holographic A.I. to bio-energetic entity after falling in love with Tyler. Father Yajik’s ancient super-science converted her energy matrix into a fully biological human being whenever she was exterior of a computer system. But the Zyn-Vorkan program still allowed her to interface with data banks, leap from computer to computer. and link with any hospitable network. The one drawback was that Suzie had to return to energetic existence briefly every fifty-one Terran hours, or her biological nature would assert itself permanently, barring any further excursions into the Cyber-verse.
Tyler took a deep breath. “Link the data stream to the conference room’s holo-projectors.”
“Okay, but the signal is wobbling,” Suzie said. “Might be the first time anyone has pushed Apexcom holography to this distance.”
“Put it through,” Tyler said. “
A fuzzy glow appeared at the head of the oblong table, brightened, and congealed into a three-dimensional holographic representation of Tyler Noah Matthews III.
Apexcom science had come a long way since it was no more than a raspy voice message. The image was solid as the Patrick Henry’s holographic crew members. Noah Matthews looked tanned and strong in a russet brown, open collar business suit. His dark hair showed flecks of silver, but sixty-plus years had not slowed him down.
“Glad to see everyone,” he said to the room.
“Where’s Mom?” Tyler said.
“Patrolling in Brightstar Curve. We’ve had an epidemic of Gate ambushes along the Jayendra corridor, between the Tleone homeworld and Kylene system.”
Nasty business. Pirates waited by the Jump Gates for slow-moving freighters to approach or depart. As long as the attackers struck outside the Gate’s defensive perimeter, they could ambush and disable any lightly armed ship, loot the cargo, and seize prisoners to sell as slaves. Even though the combined Matthews-Quirt Thymean fleet broke the back of deep space piracy a few weeks earlier, there were still plenty of outlaws looking for a quick payday. Admiral Bianca Matthews went back to her old job, prowling for predators.
“How is my mother?” Julieta’s voice trembled slightly.
Noah nodded. “She’s well. Almost completely healed. I’ll send images. She actually looks younger than Bianca, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Praise God!” Esteban crossed himself.
“Thanks for the good news, Dad,” Tyler said. “So, what else is on your mind?”
Noah sat at the table beside Suzie. It unnerved Tyler when his father’s image achieved holographic solidity and behaved like he was in the room. The first time he experienced a hologram in physical form was when Suzie materialized at the roof party in the Suryadivan capital city. Her appearance was an unexpected delight. His father, not so much.
“We have a Family problem.”
Tyler crossed his arms. “You have our attention.”
“Have you heard from Uncle Charlie?” Noah said.
“Not recently,” Tyler said. “What’s he done now?”
“Something characteristically stupid. He got himself—” Noah Matthews vanished in mid-sentence.
“What happened?” Tyler said.
“Like I told you,” Suzie said. “The transmission arrived a little wonky. Now it’s balls up.”
“Reestablish the link.”
“The hologram originated from Terra. He must contact us.”
“Go voice-only.”
“Give me a second.” She required two. “Not possible. There’s a dodgy pulsar in the Szabó Nebula slapping at the signal. We’ll have to wait until spiral drift clears his channel from Terra.”
“How long will that take?” J.B. said.
“The computations are incredibly complex. Too many objects, too great a distance. Computer models run from three minutes to three weeks.”
Everything is in motion, Tyler reminded himself. The galaxy is a multi-dimensional merry-go-round, and one of the carousel horses had risen to block the Apex channel between Terra and the Quirt-Thyme homeworld.
Tyler’s datacom beeped. It was Ulrika. He told her to return to the meeting, and she materialized in her seat instantly. “Sir, you also have a recorded message from Grand Duke Nuuria-Katikoo. Visual and voice.”
“Show us.”
Ulrika activated the two-dimensional viewer at the head of the table. The Grand Duke filled the screen, his green robe still a mixture of wrinkled and smooth fabric. He smiled jauntily.
“Joyous Toorlazimbaa! The Station Commander has asked me to invite you to his holiday banquet and orgy. Please arrive early.”
J.B. froze the image. “What do you suppose he means by orgy?”
“I think the word speaks for itself.” Tyler resumed the message.
“You may bring your crew and their dating mates. There will be other Terran expatriates at the celebration, doubtless available for sexual play. First Dinner starts at the second hour of the evening, Station Time. Blessings on your blissful gratification.”
The message ended.
“Second hour?” Tyler said.
&n
bsp; “About 7 PM,” Suzie said.
“Ulrika, send him an RSVP in the negative,” J.B. said. “With Lovey in the hospital and a trial to prep, we don’t have time to—”
“Hold it, Ulrika,” Rosalie said. “Bear, we can’t refuse. It would be a grave insult.”
J.B. snorted. “Like their Planetary Guard shooting at the Henry, or Station robots zinging steel arrows at us?”
“He has a point,” Tyler agreed.
“You keep vowing to try diplomacy,” Rosalie said. “Well, this is diplomacy.”
Tyler eyed his brother. “Y’know, it might be a good place to gather information about the Blue King’s murder.”
J.B. sighed. “Probably right. It’s obvious the government isn’t excited about providing full disclosure.”
“Why don’t we spread out and fish for info among human expats and friendly Quirt-Thymeans?” Tyler said. “Who knows, maybe we’ll hear from Dad before the evening is—”
“Ja!” Ulrika’s cool demeanor broke into a smile. “We have contact with Terra, Mr. Matthews Family.”
Tyler flipped a hand at the ceiling. “Speak of the Devil.”
Suzie laughed and activated the Apexcom link without waiting for Tyler’s blessing. She told Ulrika to stay and record the meeting.
“What happened?” Noah said.
“Your signal got snuffed by a pulsar. Go ahead, Dad. You were talking about Charlie. Where is he?”
“Farroleok-7.”
“Where the hell is that?” Tyler said.
“Got it.” Rosalie tapped her datacom and brought up the planet with star chart notations. Typical Terra class, blue and white planet appeared above the table, rotating slowly, embraced by a skinny set of rings and dozens of moons.
“Multi-species humanoid colony in the Carina Arm,” Rosalie read from the notes. “Member of the Meklavite Union. Adheres to Mek law and custom. Ruled by an appointed Domina.”
“Long way from the Rim,” Tyler said. “What did Uncle Chuckles do this time?”
“My bumptious brother got himself arrested for multiple crimes under Meklavite law. I want you to drop everything, fly to the Farroleok system, and defend him.”