CisLuna_Hard-boiled Police Procedural_Murder Mystery Read online

  “They don’t. It’s fully autonomous.”

  “No humans at all?”

  “That’s to avoid exposing them to gamma radiation from the shuttle engines when they ignite at the drop-off point.”

  “Drop-off point?”

  “Yes, several hundred kilometers over the ocean and about twenty kilometers up. The shuttle gets released, and its engines ignite after it falls a few hundred meters. The shuttle and ALV need a proper safety clearance. Then the ALV turns around and comes back home to Edwards.”

  “So then what?”

  “So then you keep flying to CisLuna.”

  “Isn’t there a bunch of radiation out there?”

  “You mean the Van Allen belts? Not to worry. Think of them as giant concentric doughnuts circling the Earth. Instead of flying through them on the way to the Moon, your shuttle will just hop over them.”

  Underneath the shuttle was an escalator that led up through an open belly hatch. I lost one of my flight technicians here and the remaining one escorted me up into the hull.

  “Those big drop tanks you saw suspended from the wings?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Those are liquid hydrogen or LH2 as we call it. That’s the propellant used by the nuclear light bulbs to make thrust.”

  “How much thrust?”

  “Five million Newtons each—enough to accelerate you at about one gee. You’ll make thrust for about twenty minutes to get up to full speed. Then you’ll feel MECO, main engine cut off. At that point, you’ll just glide to CisLuna. When you get close to your destination the engines will use the internal LH2 tank to decelerate. We call it a flip-and-burn maneuver. Okay, here’s your seat.”

  He strapped me in, then explained how to unstrap if things went sideways. “This is your O2 umbilical. You’ll want to use that to conserve the O2 in your suit tank. Make sure this needle stays in the green zone.”

  “What do I do if it goes out of green?”

  “Switch to your suit tank and ask for assistance. The suit tank is only good for about two hours.

  “This is your water line. It’s for cooling you down if you get too hot. You have a water bottle attached to your suit but you’ll want to save that.”

  He checked me out and then said, “Okay, now I’m going to activate your HUD and get you connected to the onboard wifi.”

  A HUD display popped up about a third of a meter in front of my helmet visor.

  “You can select different viewing perspectives outside the shuttle using this panel on your forearm.” He showed me a flap that was secured with hook and loop tape. “Okay, I have to go now. Safe flight!”

  It took an hour to reach the drop-off point, 20 klicks up and another 250 klicks out over the Pacific Ocean. While we were climbing, a passenger named Patty showed me how to set my intercom so we could have a private conversation.

  “That way we won’t interfere with the crew,” she said. “I’m hitching a ride on this shuttle so I can get back to CisLuna faster.”

  I looked around the cabin. She and I were the only seats occupied out of what looked like thirty seats.

  “Couldn’t they squeeze in a few more hitchhikers? Seems a waste, just the two of us.”

  “They could’ve, but this was a short notice flight. I got lucky because I was in the hangar and they needed somebody to babysit a newbie. Normally, I’d have to catch a ride to a LEO station. Then a day or so later, I’d grab a cislunar shuttle for a run to one of the stations in CisLuna. If that happens to be the station I want, I’m in luck. If not, I’d have to wait for a shuttle going to the station I do want. It can take a week of shuttling around.”

  “What if you want to go to the Moon?” I asked.

  “Then I’d have to go to SSS William Borucki—that’s the only station that services the lunar colonies. Add another week to the trip.”

  “So why do we rate special treatment?”

  “You tell me. You’re the VIP on this flight.”

  She looked at me waiting for an answer. I didn’t say anything.

  A bit later I felt my stomach trying to crawl up my throat. I looked at Patty.

  “Drop-off,” she said.

  My nausea dissipated when the engines ignited a moment later. Acceleration at 1-gee felt like being strapped onto one of those form-fitting thermal mattresses with lots of clothes on. It lasted maybe twenty minutes. At MECO the weightless sensation returned.

  “Are you nauseous?” she asked.

  “No. Not exactly. Maybe a little… yeah.”

  Patty got out of her seat and floated over to my side. She undid the flap on my arm panel and hit a switch. A straw popped up inside my helmet.

  “Sip on this. It’s strong. Two sips will relax your stomach. Anything more and you go to sleep. No more than four sips! If your vitals start to fall off, the suit will start poking you with needles to counteract the joy juice. Got that? Four sips, no more.”

  “Okay.”

  I awakened to Patty knocking on my helmet.

  “Rise and shine, Roy-Boy! We’re docking with Einstein, and you don’t want to be carried off. It marks you as a chako.”

  “What’s a chako?”

  “Short for chechako, a rube. First trip to space.”

  “Thanks. Wouldn’t want that.”

  “Flip your HUD over to Channel 6 and you can get a pilot’s eye view of our approach.”

  I did. “Jesus, is that thing as big as it looks?”

  “Yup. Einstein is a one klick in diameter. It rotates at 1.34 rpm for a full gee of artificial gravity at the outer rim. The shuttle’s onboard computer has to match our approach speed with the station’s 70-meter per second rim speed. Once we attach, we get pulled into the ring like one of those elevators on an aircraft carrier. You’ll be feeling like you’re strapped in upside down. Watch what I do to get out of your seat without falling on your head. For now, just sit tight until they open the belly hatch. I’ll lead you over to the airlock that takes you to the passenger area—it’s fully pressurized. The space station is also kept at a full atmosphere. You’ll be able to get out of that suit once you get in the visitor’s suit locker area. Did you wet your nappies?”

  “I can’t tell, but I do have to piss like a racehorse.”

  “Try to hold it. You should be out of that suit in another twenty minutes. I hope you’re not shy. Everything is pretty much co-ed up here.”

  Patty released her quick disconnect straps and rotated onto the shuttle ceiling by holding onto a trapeze bar that flipped down in front of her seat. The shuttle ceiling had a built-in walkway with hand holds. Before she departed, she made sure I got out of my seat without breaking my neck. It’s a tricky maneuver, sort of like doing a loop-de-loop on the uneven bars. Once we were both on the ‘ceiling,’ we headed over to an escalator that thrust up through the belly hatch.

  “What do you do up here, Patty?”

  “I’m a shuttle jockey. I pilot personnel and cargo shuttles to the space stations up here in CisLuna—there are twelve of them.”

  “Thanks for babysitting me, Patty. I owe you.”

  “We’re not quite done. I still have to get you through the airlock and into the passenger terminal. A flight tech will take over there.”

  It seemed weird to be stepping off the escalator and onto the shuttle’s belly. It seemed weirder still to see the shuttle suspended upside down by her landing gear. She was a big son-of-a-bitch, a hundred meters long. The fuel they must have used to get me up here on short notice… somebody must want this case solved and fast.

  * * *

  After going through the airlock, I was greeted by another flight tech.

  “Hi, Detective Stone. I’m Kevin. I’ll be helping you get settled in on Einstein.”

  “Call me Roy.”

  “Okay, Roy, let’s get you peeled down to your comfort liner. I imagine you’ll want to use the head, sponge off a bit.”

  I looked around. Patty was across the room standing near a locker. More practiced by fa
r with the debarking routine, she’d been quick to get out of her suit. She was buck naked except for an athletic looking bra holding her ample breasts. She had one foot on a bench and one hand holding her cheeks apart while she vigorously swabbed her nether parts. When she finished, she tossed the towelettes into a trash can that had a lid on it. She caught my eye. I blushed. She stuck out her tongue in a lewd smile and wiggled her buns at me.

  Kevin caught my eye, “We’re co-ed up here.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Lowers the logistical burden not having to have separate facilities for the sexes.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  I looked back at Patty. “I doubt that.”

  Kevin dragged me over to a row of lockers. “Here’s your suit locker. I’m taping your name on it. Remember where it is! If there’s an abandon station emergency, this is your top priority—get here and get your suit on. Then head for your escape pod.”

  I saw Patty, fully clothed, heading toward the door, her suit in a cart.

  “She doesn’t have a locker here?”

  “She’s a pilot. She’ll stow her suit over by the shuttle craft. She just wanted to clean up a bit first.”

  “Oh.”

  There was an esoteric routine up here. Somehow I had to fit in.

  “As soon as you’re back in your street clothes, I’ll take you to the… the victim’s room. I’m told she’s still there undisturbed.”

  “It’s a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck, it would have to be a woman.

  Chapter One

  August 2085

  Some people need to remind themselves that they’d been something once. Police Chief Carmine Ciccolella was like that. He had dozens of cardboard boxes along his office walls—old hardcopy case files that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to.

  “Hiya, Chick, what’s up?”

  The Chief looked up from his monitor but didn’t smile. “Sit down, Roy. Close the door.”

  I sat down and mopped the sweat off my face with my bandana. His office had an air conditioner mounted in the window and the breeze felt good. It was some old junker he’d restored with parts from the scrap yards around Lompoc. SpaceCorp could be counted upon for three hots and a cot, but your personal comfort depended on your ability to scrounge things—old things, discarded things, things people didn’t want anymore. Scroungers were king around here.

  “Remember how I asked if I could tap you for a homicide if the need arose?”

  “Yeah, I remember. I was hoping you didn’t.”

  “’Sorry, Roy. I need to call in that marker.”

  I used to be a CID agent back when I was in the Army before the Dissolution. I did homicide back then. Was pretty good at it too until one of my cases went sideways. Because of that I had an agreement with the Chief that I would stick with property crimes unless he was in a jam.

  “Smitty and Anderson can’t handle it?” I asked.

  “Smitty and Anderson each have two cases already, and I got the mayor of V-berg crawling up my ass to close ‘em.”

  “Two cases? That’s not that big a stretch, Chief.”

  “It is if the third case is in CisLuna.”

  “We had a murder in space?”

  “We’ve got a dozen stations orbiting around Earth-Moon L1, a space port construction yard at L2, and three water works on the lunar surface. Altogether that’s over fifteen thousand people counting transients. It had to happen sooner or later.”

  “Okay, so where did this one happen?”

  “SSS Albert Einstein, a research vessel up in EML1. The captain is whining about crew morale. Here’s the case file.”

  He handed me a stick. I put it in the reader port on my communicator.

  “There’s nothing on it.”

  “Yeah, I need you to fix that. You’re gonna be lead investigator. We’re scrambling a personal lunar direct shuttle just for you.” He looked at his monitor, “SLS John Marmie. It’s gonna take you straight to Einstein. There’s a chopper outside waiting to take you to Edwards. You’re gonna launch as soon as you get there and get suited up.”

  “Suited up?”

  “Yeah, it’s a Low Earth Orbit shuttle and since LEO shuttles don’t usually go to the Moon, they’re not pressurized.”

  “You’re gonna make me late for dinner.”

  * * *

  The chopper was an old Army Blackhawk, kept flying more by miracles than maintenance. They flew with the cargo doors open because of the heat. It was 40°C at V-berg and Edwards was supposed to top 50°C. The crew chief fixed me up with a helmet and showed me how to plug in my communicator so I could call my wife.

  “What’s that noise? I can hardly hear you!” Emily said.

  “I’m being sent on assignment to space.”

  “Oh my god! Where in space?”

  “A station out in CisLuna. On Albert Einstein. There’s been a murder.”

  “Why’d they pick you?” Emily asked.

  “The regular homicide guys are busy and I have a homicide background.”

  Even with the chopper noise drowning her out, I could tell she was not happy.

  “I thought you were going to stick with property crimes.”

  “Yeah, well, something came up.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “What, about me going to space?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I know. Look, this perp is 370 thousand klicks away. You’ll be safe down here on Earth.”

  Silence.

  “Maybe you should take Devil and go stay with Becky,” I said. Devil was our German shepherd. He was a big brute, forty-five kilos, jet black with white stockings.

  “I was gonna make steaks tonight. I got some nice filets.”

  “Real beef?”

  “The butcher said they were.”

  “Can you freeze them?”

  “I think I’ll cook them. Devil’s gonna get yours.”

  Dial tone.

  I hoped she’d see reason and take the steaks and Devil and camp out at Becky’s for a while.

  Chapter Three

  Stiffs always have two things in common. They’re dead and they stink. Even so, this one was peculiar. For one thing, she was hanging by her feet from the ceiling, her arms dangling down to the floor. For another she was completely nude.

  I nodded to a tall dark-haired woman standing by the hatchway. At least she had on bunny slippers and gloves.

  “You forensics?” I asked.

  “Molecular biology.”

  Attractive, looks maybe forty, but really fit, almost muscle-bound. Probably make her closer to fifty actual. She held her left hand up casually revealing the outline of a wedding band under her rubber glove. Mind reader too.

  “Have you examined the body?” I asked.

  “They said wait for homicide.”

  “How long’s that been?”

  “They found her this morning when she missed shift change. She had the 4-8 watch. That was 16 hours ago. I got the call an hour after that.”

  “You think it happened between watches?”

  “Yeah, somewhere between twenty hundred and oh four hundred.”

  “That’s only twenty hours tops. What is it in here, five Celsius? She smells too much for the room to be that cold.”

  “I had them turn the temperature down as soon as I got here. It was thirty-five C when I showed up.”

  “Any chance it could have been longer than twenty hours?”

  “She supposedly clocked out at twenty hundred last night.”

  “Supposedly?”

  “We don’t have any imagery from her work area. Just the usual entries consistent with her job function.”

  “Why no imagery?”

  “Well, now that’s a good question. Uh, should I call you Inspector or Detective?”

  “Call me Roy, Roy Stone. I’m a detective. Brits are inspectors.”

  “I’m Monica Car
valho.”

  I started and jerked my head back toward her. “The Monica Carvalho?”

  “Yes, the Monica Carvalho.”

  “What should I call you?”

  “Monica’s fine.”

  “Okay, pardon my asking, but why would they put somebody like you on this? Surely you got another doctor around here.”

  “She was the doctor. Well, one of them anyway.”

  “You knew her?”

  “She delivered my last two kids.”

  “You two close?”

  “Not really.”

  “Elaborate, please?”

  “She was a good doctor. Too blond. Too ponytail. Too perky. It wore thin.”

  I looked at the upside-down doctor. She had the ponytail and she was definitely blond. The perky I’d have to leave to my imagination.

  “You gonna be able to handle this? Autopsy and all?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m gonna need an autopsy.”

  “There’s a thousand people on this station. We have… or had four flight surgeons. One is seeing patients. The other two are between shifts.”

  I put on my bunnies and gloves and moved into the room. It was neat. Like the maid had just been there. Nothing knocked over, nothing out of place. I circled the body, not touching it. No wounds I could see. But her hair. Same shade as Hanna. A little younger maybe. Hard to tell upside-down. I shook my head and took a deep breath.

  Monica stood in the hatchway. “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” I took my kerchief out of my hip pocket and mopped my brow.

  “Is this your first murder?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t mean to pry but you look pretty shook up.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “It’s just… never mind. How long has she been here?”

  “You already covered that. Maybe twenty hours.”

  “Oh, yeah. Upside down the whole time?”

  “We decided not to move her until you had a look at her.”

  “There should be visible postmortem clotting in her arms and face. But there’s nothing. She’s pale as a ghost.”

  “So?”

  “In a dead body, blood pools according to gravity and then clots. The clots show up as bruises. This woman has no visible bruising.” I held up her hand to show Monica. “She doesn’t even show any surface vascular definition.”