Ten Days Earlier
Chapter One
Detective Isaac Cho of the Consolidated System Police sat at his desk on Kronos Station, orbiting Saturn. He was a slender man with short, black hair and sharp eyes. Not tiny or scrawny, but certainly of a slighter build than most. He wore the dark blue of SysPol with the golden eye and magnifying glass of Themis Division on his shoulder, which distinguished him from his deputy, who sat at the desk opposite his.
Special Agent Susan Cantrell of the Department of Temporal Investigation possessed a lithe, predatory gracefulness, even seated with an elbow on her desk and her cheek propped up on her fist. She wore her shock of red hair in a neat pixie cut, and the lighter blue of her Peacekeeper uniform hugged the artificial curves of her synthoid body. Her peaked cap rested on her desk, and a silver shield with the letters DTI hung from her left breast.
Over a hundred desks formed a grid in the spacious room, but the majority were unoccupied. As was often the case, almost all of the department's detectives and specialists were out in the field.
Arrays of virtual screens filled the space between Isaac and Susan, and they both worked to organize and attach the various forensic files and testimonies to their respective reports. Both of their desks showed little use. Besides the virtual screens, the surfaces were almost totally devoid of personal effects.
A small, sealed terrarium sat on Isaac’s desk, the flower inside growing so fast it was visible to the naked eye. It bloomed into a brilliant sunburst of oranges and reds this time, then began to wilt almost instantly. The terrarium sat precariously close to one of the corners of the desk furthest from Susan, and she seemed to subconsciously lean away from the self-replicating piece of art.
The ever-cycling flower had been a gift from a kidnapping victim they’d rescued, and the memento on Susan’s desk had been collected from the same case.
It was a rock.
Just . . . a rock. And not a very interesting one at that.
It was, as Susan was prone to say about such things, “a long story.”
In some ways, the two partners couldn’t have been more different. Isaac had spent the last ten of his thirty years training to become a SysPol Detective whereas Susan had joined the Peacekeepers in her early twenties and quickly transitioned from her frail flesh-and-blood to a military-grade body.
Isaac’s approach to problem solving was to sift through the evidence.
Carefully. Thoroughly. Picking the problem relentlessly apart one thread at a time.
Susan preferred more . . . explosive means of resolving issues.
Their backgrounds diverged in many other ways, even down to the histories of their respective universes, for the Admin timeline had split off from SysGov’s all the way back in 1940 with the assassination of Adolph Hitler, leading to two wholly different 2980s.
But despite their differences, and despite whatever misgivings both had held at the start of the new SysPol-DTI officer exchange program, they'd worked well together for the last three months and were even now in the process of wrapping up another successful case.
“Susan?” Isaac asked.
“Yeah?” she replied without looking up.
“What’s another good word for ‘mulched?’”
She raised her gaze to meet his. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I think I’m overusing it in my report.”
“It is an accurate description of what happened to his victims.”
“I know, but I feel like the repetition is making my report sound less professional.”
“How about . . . ‘recycled’ or ‘reclaimed?’”
“Too sterile. That’s for processing trash.”
“Umm. What about ‘blended?’”
“Too culinary. Sounds like he was making people smoothies.”
“‘Pureed,’ perhaps?”
“That’s even worse.”
“I don’t know then.”
“Hmm.” Isaac glared at his unfinished report.
“Honestly, I think you’re asking the wrong person.” Susan passed a finger through her virtual screen. “I’m still using a translation program for all this. Why don’t you use a thesaurus? That’s what I do when I get stuck trying to figure out the correct word.”
“Hmm,” he murmured noncommittally.
The two resumed working on their reports in silence for several minutes before Susan looked up suddenly.
“You know something, Isaac?”
“Hmm?”
“This is kind of a weird change of pace.”
“What do you mean?”
“The two of us in the office for more than a few hours straight.”
“Well, Raviv wants us to clear out our documentation backlog, so here we are.”
“I know that. I just, I don’t know, would prefer to be out in the field. That’s all.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Setting things on fire again?”
“Oh, come on!” she said, her eyes laughing. “A girl uses a flamethrower one time, and suddenly that’s all people remember.”
“At least it made it easier to follow your trail.”
“You think Raviv will have another case for us soon?”
“Absolutely.” He glowered down at his screens. “Once we’ve written all of our overdue reports.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she said with a sigh then hunkered down again.
The two continued their work. Isaac attached the last file in his case folder to the report, but then he frowned, noting a missing set of references.
“Cephalie?” he asked his integrated companion.
“You rang?”
The image of a miniature woman appeared on Isaac’s desk. Today, Encephalon wore a dark green long coat with matching gloves and a white hat with a green flower stuck in it. A pair of circular wireframe glasses with opaque lenses finished the ensemble. She brought a wooden cane around, clicked the metal tip against his desktop, and leaned forward over it.
“Do you have the forensics file on victim four?” Isaac asked. “I seem to be missing that one.”
“The one the state police processed for us?” A miniature blackboard materialized next to her, and text appeared. She stood up and knocked her cane against the blackboard. “Sure do. Got it right here.”
“Thanks.” He pulled the file into the case folder and then attached it to the report.
“Any time.”
“What would I do without you?”
“You looking for an honest answer?”
“I—” Isaac paused and clapped his mouth shut, then glanced down at the small woman grinning up at him. “Perhaps not this time.”
“Suit yourself.” She gave him a quick wave and vanished.
“Doesn’t make any sense to me,” Susan muttered.
“What doesn’t?”
“The murderer.” She put both elbows on her desk and leaned toward him. “Did the idiot really think feeding those people down the reclamation chute wouldn’t leave evidence?”
“‘Never underestimate the stupidity of the criminal mind.’”
“Is that a Raviv quote?” she asked, referring to the period when Isaac had mentored under the current chief inspector, back when Raviv was a senior detective.
“It is,” Chief Inspector Omar Raviv said loudly, his voice echoing in the office as he walked over.
“Hey, boss.” Isaac twisted around in his chair.
“Sir,” Susan greeted curtly.
“You two busy?” Raviv asked.
“Just working on another report,” Isaac said.
“Which one?”
“The Titan murders down in the Fridge.”
“You mean that guy who mulched his coworkers?”
“That would be the one.”
“See?” Susan reached over nudged Isaac in the shoulder. “‘Mulched’ is the right word. You were worrying over nothing.”
“Did I miss something?” Raviv asked.
“Not really,” Isaac assured him. “What can we do for you?”
“What else? More work.”
“Finally!” Susan said with a smile.
“Don’t get too excited,” Raviv cautioned. “This one’s a little different.”
“As long as it gets us away from our desks,” Susan said.
“Well, it’ll definitely do that. A request came in from an ‘Under-Director Jonas Shigeki.’ That name sound familiar to you?”
“Sure does,” Susan said. “He’s the DTI Director of Foreign Affairs. He selected me for the exchange program.”
“Oh good. I like him already.” Raviv raised his palm, and a virtual document appeared in their shared virtual vision.
Isaac glanced over at Susan and gave her a quick thumbs up while Raviv was engrossed in the document. She winked back at him.
“Anyway, either of you two hear about the ongoing Weltall Tournament?”
“Vaguely,” Isaac said.
Susan shook her head.
“I caught one of the qualifier streams,” Raviv continued. “The Lagrange Republic one. Wong Fei was in it, obliterating the competition as usual. Interesting game mechanics, too. I might try it out when it finally gets published. Anyway, the director asked if the two of you can attend the finals on Luna. A bit last minute, but you can make it if you leave within the next day or so.”
“What for?” Isaac asked dubiously, not liking the idea of being away from Saturn for the next three or more weeks. It would take them eight and a half days just to reach Earth’s moon, given Earth's position relative to Saturn this time of year.
“Says here the tournament’s a part of the Admin’s ongoing series of cultural and economic exchanges. The ‘Million Handshake Initiative.’ Both SysGov and Admin players will be competing in the finals.”
“And since the two of us are an example of cooperation between our governments . . .” Susan filled in.
“They’d like us to join them,” Isaac finished glumly.
“Exactly,” Raviv said. “See any problems with the request?”
“Will we have to give any speeches?” Isaac asked.
“It doesn’t say anything here about speeches.” Raviv skimmed over the document. “You’ll have to attend the tournament as well as a few social dinners. Plus,” he smiled wryly, “you’ll have the truly burdensome task of staying at the Crimson Flower.”
“Oh?” Both of Isaac’s eyebrows rose.
“Which,” Raviv continued, “to fill you in, Susan, is a well-known resort. Probably the most famous on Luna.”
“That works out perfectly, then,” she said. “I’ve wanted to visit Luna since I got here, but I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity.”
“Wonderful!” Raviv minimized the file. “Then now’s the perfect time for you to check that item off your list.”
“Why Luna?” Isaac asked.
“Because it’s so different from the one back home,” Susan replied. “For one, it has an atmosphere, unlike the lifeless rock I went to college on. And two, it’s not a haven for terrorist scum.” She glanced up at Raviv. “Does Luna have any beaches?”
“You better believe it. Some gorgeous ones, too.” Raviv smiled slyly. “I was actually thinking about taking the missus there for our next vacation. Elise loves low gravity resorts.”
“We have beaches here, too, you know,” Isaac said to Susan, his tone perhaps a touch too defensive. As a native to Saturn, he took a great deal of pride in his home state. “There’s at least one on Janus I know of.”
“You mean in Janus,” Susan corrected. “A beach in an enclosed megastructure floating through Saturn’s atmosphere isn’t the same as the open-air experience. Doesn’t count.”
“Well, I think it counts,” Isaac replied, that defensive edge to his voice growing stronger.
“Where would you even put a beach in Janus, anyway?” Susan asked.
“It’s situated near the top of the megastructure, about a kilometer below Ballast Heights. Nice little area called Tankville.”
“Tankville?” Susan repeated dubiously. “Let me guess. It’s built along the lip of Janus’s main water reservoir?”
“One of them, yes.”
“I’m sorry, but I still say that doesn’t count.”
Isaac frowned, not sure how to better explain the exceptionalism of Saturnite resorts to her.
“So, can I put the two of you down as attending?” Raviv asked.
“Sure,” Isaac said with a shrug. “Why not? Though I’m not thrilled about being stuffed into one of our corvettes for over a week.”
“Actually, the director has arranged civilian flights for you. You’ll be taking a Polaris Traveler saucer back into the inner system.”
“Even better,” Susan said brightly.
“Seems like he’s thought of everything,” Isaac added.
“Also, Susan,”—Raviv opened a second file—“your extension was approved. Looks like we’ll have you for another three months. After you get back from Luna, of course.”
“Yes!” She thumped the air victoriously.
“I don’t think that was ever in doubt,” Isaac commented.
“Still, it’s good to know for certain I’m sticking around.”
“You’re not thinking about heading home anytime soon, are you?” Raviv asked.
“Nope!”
“Not getting homesick or anything?”
“Not even a little.”
“She gets shot at less over here,” Isaac explained.
“That’s a big plus, certainly,” Susan clarified, “but it’s not the only reason.”
“Are you sure about that?” Raviv said, “because the superintendent brought you up during my quarterly review. Apparently, you suffered more injuries than any other detective last quarter.”
“Sorry?” Susan shrugged, not looking repentant at all.
“And didn’t that Fridge murderer shoot you in the face?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like he did any real damage. Not with that peashooter!” She tapped her cheek. “Just knocked off some of my cosmetic layer. I was good as new in no time.”
“Well, try to keep your head down more in the future.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Raviv made a few selections in his virtual mail and hit send. “All right, then. I’ve confirmed you two will attend. Here are your itineraries.”
Isaac eyed the new documents populating his inbox.
“Got ’em.”
“Finish up whatever reports you’re in the middle of then feel free to call it quits early. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
