Parting

by Edward M. Erdelac -

Considine’s fear that the downing of the fighter would bring the rest of Morgenstar’s air force, while not unfounded, proved inconsequential.

Yulaura took full advantage of the gritty, cluttered skies, driving the rover down through low canyons and grumbling along beneath rocky overhangs, rendering them nearly invisible from the air.

They did see a pair of fighters circle like carrion flyers far overhead, but the downing of their comrade had perhaps made the others wary about flying too low.

It was a circuitous route, but in two hours time the rover came to a stop at the edge of the ocean, where the old sub-ferry station waited, along with a single Morgenstar fighter, sitting on the shore.

“Looks like they wised up,” said Yulaura. “Or one of ‘em did. What now?”

“They haven’t seen this rover,” said Dressler. “As far as they know, we’re just a bunch of grit-breathers looking for passage to Zirconia. Give him a spare suit and a mask and let’s park this thing. We’ll wait till the sub-ferry docks and then go.”

Considine donned a too-tight exposure suit and desert robes and a mask as Yulaura pulled the rover into the holding lot.

They waited a half an hour before the tower of the sub-ferry broke the surface of the water and pulled into the dock.

“You sure he’s worth all this trouble?” she asked Dressler.

“Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t, but there’s still the compensation to be had. And that’s worth the time, yes, unless you wanna live in the rover from now on.”

Yulaura sighed as Lyn pulled on her facemask again.

“Well I don’t wanna live in this thing,” said the girl.

They stepped out into the whipping, volcanic winds, and walked to the shelter of the station.

They were the only waiting passenger except for the Morgenstar pilot lounging on a bench in his flightsuit. He was a clean-cut, angular fellow, not one of these bruiser security officers, but he had a stingshot pistol strapped to his thigh, and when they came in out of the wind, he stood up.

The ferry-attendant, a bored looking old woman, announced the arrival of the ferry through her squelchy public address, and stood up tiredly to take their money.

The pilot walked towards them, his hand on his pistol.

The doors to the ferry opened, and Considine was delighted to see two familiar faces step off, along with a crowd of people bound for elsewhere.

Considine stepped to the two uniformed Enforcers and pulled off his facemask.

“Haj! Jelly!” he exclaimed.

It was Jelly Galveston and Haj, two of his own team. They looked startled to see him and stared bemused at his clothes.

Considine glanced back at the Morgenstar pilot and saw him hesitate, then move his hand away from his pistol and trot back outside, heading for his fighter and communications line no doubt.

“Inspector?” Jelly said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Haj drew his pneumatic sidearm and covered Considine.

“You’re under arrest, Considine.”

Considine raised his hands slowly, and looked over at Dressler, Lyn, and Yulaura with what he hoped was an apologetic expression.

“I’ll sort this out, I promise.”

Dressler and Lyn started forward, but Yulaura grabbed them both by the elbows.

“Sure,” she said. “Be sure and contact us when you do.”

She pulled them back, turned them around, and walked back outside.

Bird Hunting

by Edward M. Erdelac -

The bed had been overturned and blown against the opposite wall, and Considine had to worm his way out from under the debris.

He heard Dressler in the next room shouting for his daughter, and heard her anxious reply.

Considine pushed himself to his feet, rubble sliding off his shoulders, as Dressler appeared in the doorway again with a long rifle.

“You alright?” he demanded more than asked.

“Fine!” Considine managed.

Dressler nodded and leapt through the hole in his home, into the whirling ash and cinder blowing outside.

The girl scampered out behind him, a breathing mask on her face and another dangling from her fist. Considine limped along after.

Dressler rushed straight for a stand of rocks a few yards from the smoking house, and dove down behind as the Morgenstar fighter roared and banked overhead, coming around for a second pass.

They must have tracked him to the house somehow.

Considine could barely see or breathe. He clenched his eyes against the horrendous air and breathed into the crook of his elbow, but his eyes streamed tears.

When he joined them behind the rocks, Dressler already had the spare mask on and was priming the powerful-looking rifle.

The girl looked at him and grabbed his elbow, pulling him close to shout in his ear over the wind.

“Pull your shirt over your head!” she shrieked through her breathing mask.

He did so. The relief wasn’t total, but it wasn’t negligible either.

He heard the whining engine of the fighter droning closer. If the pilot could see them through the clouds of ash, he would vaporize their position with an eruption of his cannons.

Considine pulled the shirt down and scanned the area for another place to flee, but they were in the middle of nowhere.

Dressler was climbing on top of the rocks.

“What’re you doing?” Considine yelled. “Get down!”

Dressler ignored him and put the rifle to his cheek, aiming it at the sky expectantly.

Considine saw the fighter then, coming in low, flying through the ash like a great winged hunting beast.

Dressler saw it too, and fired.

The rifle bucked against his shoulder and the end of the barrel flamed, spitting out a heavy shot with a loud crack.

The fighter passed just over their heads with a roar.

Considine saw the wings waggle, and suddenly the nose dipped sharply and the bird went down, ploughing earth with its face, flipping radically end over end, and coming to an explosive rest directly in the center of Dressler’s house, which blew apart, sending chunks of permiform in all directions.

Dressler lowered the rifle.

Lyn, her blonde curls whipping around behind her facemask, stood up and slapped her father’s leg with the back of her hand.

“You should’ve let it pass!” she scolded.

“Nice shot, Dress!” came a new voice, a woman’s, but muffled by a face mask. “But bad timing!”

A decidedly female form, masked and robed, stood nearby, a long hunting rifle cradled in her arms.

Parked a few yards behind her was a bulky six-wheeled rover.

“Yulaura! The girl squealed, and rushed over, pointing angrily back at Dressler, who was coming down off the rock somewhat less heroically than when he’d ascended it. “Didja see what Dad did?”

“It was a great shot,” Considine offered, as Dressler inspected the inferno where his house had once been.

“Nothing in there that can’t be replaced,” Dressler muttered. “But who the hell was that?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with. I can’t ask you to take me to Zirconia now that I know they’re after me. Just lend me a breathing mask and…”

“The hell with that,” Dressler said. “Yulaura, fire up the rover and let’s get going! How do you expect me to collect compensation for all this if you’re dead, Inspector?”

A Change Of Mind

By Edward M. Erdelac - 

Considine said nothing as the guards led him from the gyrolift to Morgenstar’s clinic, but inwardly, he cursed Kes and himself for putting all his trust in the man.

The clinic was as impressive as the rest of Morgenstar. This was no dispensary with a bored nurse standing by with bottles of aspirin and medical tape. It was a full service facility, and he felt the pit of his stomach shudder at the sight of the cold metal examination table.

“I’ve got to take a leak,” one of the faceless guards announced to the other suddenly.

“What? Now?” exclaimed the other.

“Got to. I’ve been holding it since we nabbed this one. Stay here and wait for the nurse.”

“Hurry up.”

The first guard left, but Considine’s thoughts of overpowering the other man vanished when the guard put himself in the corner and angled his three barreled hyperuzi so it would deliver a cone of fire that would redecorate the entire room. This was no moonlighting Enforcer working toward PC pension. Morgenstar could afford to hire professionals.

Considine glanced around, trying to think of some way out, when the door hissed open and a nebbish looking bald man all in white entered.

“How come there’s only one of you?” the nurse asked warily, stopping in the middle of the room.

“My partner’s taking a leak. Wanna wait for him?”

“I don’t have time for this,” the nurse snapped, annoyed. “I’m supposed to be on deck one-eighty-three in twenty minutes for a bounceball date.”

He crossed the room and went to one of the metal cabinets, sliding his hand across the identification padlock and swinging it open.

“You’re gonna have to hold him,” the nurse said over his shoulder, snapping on a pair of tight gloves.

“Just scramble his brain,” the guard grumbled, “and get it over with.”

“I’ve got to sedate him first,” the nurse said, turning around with a gun-like inoculator and screwing in a small bottle of clear fluid.

The guard sighed behind Considine, and he heard the clatter of his hyperuzi being slung over his shoulder by the strap.

The nurse stepped forward with the inoculator, and the guard’s boots squeaked on the floor.

“Damn it,” hissed the nurse. “Just a minute.”

He set the inoculator on the table and turned back to the cabinet.

Considine snatched it up and spun as the guard’s fingers brushed his elbows. He jammed the inoculator under the man’s unprotected chin and squeezed.

There was a metallic punching sound and the guard stumbled back, gurgling.

Considine reached out and caught the hyperuzi as it slipped off the man’s shoulder.

He trained it on the guard, but the man just crumpled in the corner.

He turned to the nurse, who was standing with his back to the cabinet now, hands up, fingers splayed, eyes wide.

He tossed the inoculator to him. The man fumbled, barely catching it.

“Ready another dose of the same, if you please. Quickly.”

The nurse rummaged in the cabinet. Several bottles tumbled from the shelf and tinkled across the floor.

Considine stood sideways, ready to pepper the doorway should the second guard appear, or fire on the nurse should he try something stupid.

The nurse held the loaded inoculator.

“Butt first,” said Considine, holding out his hand. He heard boots squeaking in the hall.

The nurse handed him the inoculator and backed away.

Considine made a shushing gesture and put his back to the wall beside the doorway.

It hissed open a moment later and the second guard stepped inside.

Considine pressed the barrel of the inoculator to the side of his neck and soon he was face first on the floor.

“Now,” said Considine to the nurse. “Which way to the corporate hangar?”

“Three floors up,” stammered the nurse. “But you can’t get to it. The lift won’t work for you without an executive or pilot ID.”

Considine stooped and plucked an ID card off the fallen guard’s belt, frowning at it.

“What about security?”

“They can go anywhere,” the nurse admitted.

Considine nodded and tossed the inoculator to the nurse again.

“One more dose,” he commanded. “’Fraid you’re going to miss your bounceball date.”

The nurse sighed heavily and went into the cabinet again.

The Direct Route

Six Fathoms Down, Part 14, by Edward M. Erdelac - 

It seemed to take forever for Gorsh to finish laying out his plans for Considine’s investigation.

It took only a few moments to give the two Avenir Enforcers he was assigned as assistance the slip.

He left them scratching their heads and peering up and down a crowded passageway while he slipped into a gyrovater and instructed it to take him straightaway to Morgenstar Munitions.

“Access to Morgenstar Munitions is granted by appointment only,” the cultured voice of the gyrovater informed him gravely.

He did not slip his ID badge into the access port. Instead he used the one he’d taken off one of Gorsh’s Enforcers.

“Investigative priority,” he told the computer.

“Complying,” the computer responded as the gyrovater thrummed to life beneath his feet and began to whisk him through the various levels of Avenir.

No need for him to leave a digital trail or announce his intentions. Besides, there was probably a lock on his own credentials.

It was only a matter of time before the Avenir Enforcer’s loss of badge would be detected. He left it sitting in the slot, knowing he probably couldn’t use it on the way back anyway.

He exited the gyrovater when the doors spiraled open and found himself in a high-ceilinged, pristine white lobby with smooth silver lines and a plush blue carpet.

He approached the multi-armed service machine at the front desk.

Before the robot had done more than glance up, he had pulled his Enforcer-issue handheld directional EMP flasher. It was intended for deactivating runaway vehicles or circumventing pesky electronic locks, but it knocked out the bot’s central processor with a flick.

“No thanks, I’ll help myself,” he muttered, sliding around the console past the inert robot and calling up the company directory.

Orin Bantry’s name was listed, and if he was wearing his ID badge, he was currently in the southwest cafeteria. A swift glance at the schematics and he had the route memorized.

He’d always been good with maps.

The Trouble With Croix

by Edward M. Erdelac -

“He’s dying,” said the Doctor outside the interrogation room where Croix was sitting peaceably.

Considine wasn’t overly surprised. The man looked almost as if he’d died already. Lung deterioration was a common cause of death to Topsies. They worked half their lives to get out of the poison air only to find it had already killed them long ago. Sometimes the knowledge drove them to a nihilistic kind of crime. It made a kind of sense. He just wished he knew what Considine’s target had been.

“What of? Not his injuries, surely.”

“Without a complete scan I can’t say, but by his symptoms, a multitude of things.”

“A multitude?”

“Pneumonia, syphilis, orange and yellow fevers….”

“What?” Enforcer Brendermyer interjected. “Is he contagious?”

“Oh yeah. But most of the things he’s got we’ve all had inoculations for. The thing is, he should’ve had them too prior to entering the city.”

“Couldn’t he have slipped the requirements?”

“Not on your life. The Zirconia Medical Bureau is extremely tough on topsy immigration. Even the crooks don’t bypass the physical requirements. Nobody wants some nasty bug bite disease running rampant in Zironia. Could deep six the whole population.”

“How could he have contracted multiple viral infections?” Considine wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” admitted the doctor. “I’m going to have to request that he submit to a full scan back at the Medical Bureau before I release him to psychiatric care. I’ve got to catalog all he’s got, make sure he’s safe to move.”

“He’s not going to psych. The Peace Council’s requested he be extradited to Avenir.”

“Well he’s not going anywhere till he’s released medically.”

“Alright, Doctor. Can you arrange transport?”

“I’ve already alerted the ZMB. They’re sending a haz-mat team to bubblewrap him and take him back.”

“Fine.” He would have to tell Gorsh Croix wouldn’t be ready in two hours.

Considine looked through the porthole in the door at Croix. The man smiled at him, a little wearily, but still present of mind.

“Could his condition affect his mind, Doctor?”

“Definitely.”

“Will you alert me once the scan’s complete?”

“Sure thing.”

Jelly came tromping down the corridor in his Enforcer gear.

“Hey Inspector, that freight jockey’s gone through the personnel pix from Morgenstar, says she thinks she’s got a match.

“Thank you, Jelly,” Considine said, going off toward the room they’d left her in.

“Hey Inspector!” Brendermyer called.

“What?”

“The club! My gig! Can I go or what?”

“Once the ZMB comes and picks him up, and as long as the Doctor checks you out, it’s alright with me.”

“I’m not gonna have time to change out of all this crap,” he said, gesturing to his tactical wear.

Considine shrugged.

“Maybe it’ll improve your act. Make it a gimmick. Brendermyer: The Laughing Enforcer.”

Jelly at least, chuckled.

The Pilot

by Edward M. Erdelac -

Arden Pacoy was heavyset and dark-skinned, obviously annoyed to have been pulled out of pre-flight checks to sit and wait in the dim, rusty interrogation room when she should have been earning her daily bread.

As soon as Inspector Considine entered, she said, “What’s this all about? I’m due on the flight deck in fifteen minutes.”

“Put a lid on it, Ms. Pacoy. You didn’t complete your pre-flight. Your company’s already bumped you. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Is your office going to compensate me for time lost? I’ve got a kid to feed…”

“You’ll be lucky if you fly again.”

“Why what’s this about?”

“Tell me how you know Almer Croix.”

She blinked, then shrugged.

“Never heard of him.”

“Well he’s heard of you,” Considine said. “This morning he tried to blow up one of the habitation rings. He demanded safe passage to Avenir and picked your name off the flight duty roster as his preferred pilot.”

“It was probably random!” she exclaimed.

“If it was random he would’ve asked for any old pilot. He demanded to see the duty roster, and asked specifically for you.”

“Well, I don’t know him….he might’ve been a customer.”

“A customer? Aren’t you a company pilot? Your only customer is the people who own your ship.”

She pursed her lips.

“You’re taking side jobs?”

She nodded slowly.

“So you flew cargo for Almer Croix?”

“Not specifically for him. The way it works is, people pay for cargo space on my supply runs.”

“Does the company know you’re renting out space on their freighter?”

“I have a kid to feed, like I said. Besides, the space I leave for independent cargo is negligible. It doesn’t detract much from the company runs.”

“Would they see it that way?”

She bit her lip.

“What was the cargo?”

“I don’t peek. That’s part of the arrangement.”

“Even if it’s high explosive detonite?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I never take suicide cargos. That’s my stipulation.”

Considine studied her face. She had blanched at the mention of the explosives. She was scared. It was obvious.

“Why would he ask for you?”

“I don’t know! I swear! Because he’d dealt with me already, I guess.”

Or maybe because had he gotten on board her ship she could’ve delivered him to somebody sympathetic on Avenir, no need for a transmission that they could’ve intercepted.

“I’m willing to believe you didn’t know what you were hired to deliver. But I want to know who your contact on Avenir was. We know the detonite went missing from a shipment bound for Sheba from Morgenstar Munitions. But we don’t know who lifted the detonite in the first place. It’s likely the same person who delivered it to you on Avenir.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Could you pick out his face?”

“I don’t know. But he had on a Morgenstar cap.”

Considine pushed back the chair and stood. He took out his pack of cigarettes and offered her one. This was a break. There was a slim chance the perpetrator on Avenir was just wearing a Morgenstar cap. They weren’t exactly the height of fashion. More likely the man who’d delivered the package to her was the same who stole it. If he was an employee of Morgenstar that would make sense. If he was an employee he’d be on record.

She took the cigarette and put it in her lips quick so he wouldn’t see her hand shake.

“I’m going to hold you here just long enough for you to go through some pics. After that I’ll release you.”

“What about the company?” she asked, leaning in to take his light. “Are you going to report me?”

He lit her and then himself, sucked in the fishy smoke and blew it through his nose. She was just one freighter pilot trying to scrape by on a pittance.

“You’ve got a kid to feed,” he said.

She closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me, Arden. If you’ve lied, he’ll be an orphan.”

He went outside without another word, letting the hatch clang behind him. The cigarettes didn’t go with the canned air. He dropped it and ground it out with his boot.

“Any luck?” asked Galveston.

He’d asked Jelly Galveston and Brendermyer to stay suited up for the time being, watch the prisoners. The other Enforcers had gone back to their day jobs.

“Yeah, Inspector, can we go home? I’ve got a gig tonight at the Starboard I gotta get ready for.”

Brendermyer worked as a comic there.

“I’ve seen your act, Brendermyer. You’re in no rush. You stay here and guard the door. Jelly, let’s go see if Croix is ready to talk.”

“Come on!” Brendermyer whined as they went off to the hyperbaric chamber where Croix was decompressing.

“How about you, Jelly? Got some place to be?”

“Nossir,” said Galveston. “My brother can hold down the dock while I’m on duty.”

“Good. Put it in a call to Morgenstar Munitions on my authorization and have them send a transtat of their personnel files. Males only. When it comes in, see that Ms. Pacoy has a chance to go through it.”

“Yessir,” said Galveston, going off.