11. Alone

John stared in front of him. For anyone who would look at him, would seem like he is frozen in time, fixated on a lifeless body two stories under him. He crossed a threshold he never thought he would. This job did not include catching bad guys, this was a civil engineering employment. With some added benefits and security, but that was just for show of force all the time. The army did their own investigations and rarely involved the Transportation Board to their business so he never even had to deal with armed witnesses, let alone perpetrators.

Movement broke him out of his melancholy, he had not time to process what he did, there are still more people out there looking for him. The partner of the shot guy was the movement he saw, just pulled himself away as fast as he could. In a few moments, the guy disappeared in one of the alcoves under the balconies, never to be seen again. John still unknowing if his messages can get through, he tried the radio, then he tried the quantum comms too without a response on either, he felt a rare loneliness. A usually normal and sought after feeling of being alone with his thoughts, this time bothered him.

He finally collected himself and slowly navigated out through the door, through the back of the once lively, posh theatre. He entered through the ticket check hall, through a bulkhead leading to pressurized space. He slowed his movements when realized he circled around. While in space, you don’t have to worry about the sound revealing your position, resonating plating as you step on them could be picked up by the observant. Opening the bulkhead and the entrance will definitely alert anyone standing guard inside, at least maybe he could avoid the followers, less the merrier, he may be able to avoid another bloodshed, be it his or the workers.

Before stepping into the airlock once more, picked up a piece of metal debris, long enough to jam the door from the inside for a bit. As the air hissingly filled up the space, he raised his gun again, dropped his helmet back and as confidently as he could, he said:

• “I have a loaded gun. Stay away and you won’t get hurt.” — in the middle of his sentence, the inner door opened to present a single guy. His movement froze in the middle of raising his crowbar as he thought through the chances.

Then he dropped the crowbar and stepped back, hands raised. Gun still pointing at him, John walked around, picked up the broken recorder and left the room. He heard metal screeching, this guy did not pause due to thinking, he was calling his friends to return. John sped up, getting back to the field hospital was his next best chance to defuse. Or to escalate and endanger more civilians, he had no idea of who these guys are and how far they would go. His helmet produced an unnerving crackling sound, he put it back and head toward the entry point he used half an hour ago. Felt like an eternity, he barely started the investigation.

Outside a squad of black armor pointed large sticks toward the airlock he just exited from. For a moment he thought they will shot him, none of the trained navy marines would even shake a finger above the triggers. They knew well who they were here to protect and their leader quickly jumped to John and pulled him aside. Clear of the line of fire, the squad closed up on the airlock and waited out of sight. No hand signals were needed, their coordination perfectly trained in advance, and their comms implanted into their brains. They quickly apprehended the workers in John’s trail. Probably they would have done this to anyone, they have time to ask questions later, hesitation will kill, a thought drilled into their heads.

The squad lead pulled out a clear tape from his tool belt and applied to John’s helmet.

• “This will hold it together. Follow me.” — his bariton came through the emergency channel. John did not even notice that the gun he held was already secured, disabled and hanging on the squad lead’s belt.
• “How… when…” — then John remembered the priorities — “There is a dead worker, shot in the head, in the theatre after the second airlock. It was me.” — the squad leader stopped and turned around for a moments pause.
• “Handled, team will secure the body. We head back to the captain immediately.”

John tried to ask a few questions, initiate some talk without success, still he was glad to be with people around. The shuttle they used was different, in some shapes it resembled a drop pod more than an air- or even space-worthy machine. It was dark, black, inside cramped space, standing for the whole trip back was unpleasant. John did not mind much, he slept at worse spaceports during his trips to accident sites. He could barely remember anything about those places, mostly the spaceports, mid-class hotels or hostels their allowance would pay at the time.

Shortly they were back on the carrier docks, this time slowly levitating toward the shipmaster’s bridge.

• “I didn’t catch your name” — said John — “At least I would like to know who to say a thank you”
• “You should thank the captain.” — long pause again — “Michael. Honestly surprised we found you alive, saw the tattoo on that guy?” — John nodded.
• “You are a lucky bastard, if the Swordfish wants someone dead, we can only scrape the remains of the guy off of a wall. Punishing crimes after they happened, my ass. Refreshing once we arrived in time.”

John was shocked second time in a day, this guy leads an elite commando and he talks of a third grade smuggling ring like equals.

• “If I don’t find that gun, I might have been not this lucky.”
• “You aren’t leaving the central colonies much? Are you an earther?” — Michael’s tone changed to an annoyed parent who has to teach his kid a life lesson along buying the groceries.
• “Nah, born in the Orions, but yeah, decade service around the central worlds. Why?”
• “Out here, on the perimeters, life is much more dangerous. Rush down to a place like this without backup, is unwise.”
• “I will try to keep in mind.”
• “Good. Now enjoy your next class.” — Michael saluted shortly and then disappeared at the next corner.
• “What do you mean?” — John was still looking toward Michael’s cold place.
• “He means me” — the shipmaster already stood next to John — “Let’s walk a bit.”
• “Yes m’am.” — with that John followed her, minutes passed by without a sound from any of them. John lamenting if he should ask for her name now. A few minutes later they arrived to a room, furnished like a bedroom, with just a few things off in it.
• “First, I am obligated to warn you, as military governor of this system, I ordered an investigation into what happened down there. Including a murder case, prime suspect is you.” — the duality of her making a tea and uttering news like this, like they were nothing, were not lost on John.
• “It was self-defense.”
• “I suppose, it is more of a formality. You know, if someone just arrives and shoots up the place in a few hours, the locals will start to be nervous.” — that snarky smile again — “And this may teach you to think before do, mister investigator general.”
• “It’s John… And excuse me for my bluntness earlier, how may I call you?”
• “M’am will do… Viktoria.” — she put the tea next to John, and turned around, halfway out the door — “Your, let’s say guest room while you are with us, and stay here until further notice. Otherwise will not interfere with your investigation and you can use the comms unrestricted.”
• “Not sure how to react yet… first of all, how did you know I needed help down there?”

She left without any reply, John could not help but notice the two black figure outside his rooms doorframe. More like my cell, — thought to himself — she is efficient though. Short beeps pulled his attention, first message from her assistant writing she is on her way and she messaged the carrier group before she left.

A sip of the Camille tea relaxed his body from the immediate stress, and soon John fell to the king bed still in his clothes.