I was leaning against my desk in the Mars Dome cop shop, rubbing nano-repair gel on my prosthetic leg, when I caught the rookie staring at me. Or rather, staring at my leg.
“Go ahead, kid, get it out of your system,” I said.
“Sorry, Detective Li, but… Your leg doesn’t really talk, does it? That’s just an old precinct legend?”
Rookies always ask about it, eventually, but they usually avoid the “old” word. I eased into my chair and spread a thin layer of gel around the bioplastic shin casing. “First, my leg has a name. It’s Charlie. Got him after a smuggling bust went sideways, probably before you were born.”
I squeezed more gel on a pencil and shoved it under the kneecap. The kid cringed. Guess I couldn’t blame him; Charlie looks pretty much like a natural biological leg, except for the scuffs and dents, and the thin orange stripe that runs from heel pad to hip socket.
I considered how to answer the question. Does Charlie talk? Not exactly, but he communicates with me. Sounds. Vague feelings lacing my gray matter. The Mako Corp doctor said it was a bug in the experimental interface. That was years ago, before they abandoned the prototype, stranding me with a misfiring jackport and a prosthetic no one knew how to service. But rookies never care about that. They just hope the old lady’s weird leg really does tell dirty jokes.
I eyeballed the kid and gave him what he wanted: “Those rumors you heard? Yeah. They’re all true.”
Something inside the knee crackled. Probably a faulty nano-adhesion sloughing off thanks to the repair gel. I pulled the pencil out and the kneecap snocked back into place. The rookie’s face paled and he scurried away. Not surprising. People often get queasy after witnessing Charlie’s inner workings up close.
“Don’t let it bother you, Charlie,” I said.
A soft metallic ting emanated from inside his frame. I smiled in response to his good humor. Then another rogue nano-adhesion crackled loose. Pent-up pressure released and the cheese-grater sensation that had been scraping my neural interface all morning faded.
“Ah, that’s better.” I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, soothed by the precinct’s familiar chatter. Vargo from across the hall was griping about the sports dome’s new lo-grav rules again. She was the only other old-timer still in the department, both of us past retirement age but too broke to quit. The knots in my muscles loosened as I listened to her complaints.
Ten seconds later, my comm chimed. I groaned. Another ten minutes—or even ten more seconds—would’ve been nice.
It chimed again, flashing a new case assignment: a mishap on a shuttle from the Commerce One space station. Preliminary report said a cabin window depressurized, sucking a passenger into space. Tentative ID was a woman named Rosa Diego. Likely an accident, but it was my job to be sure.
Charlie squeaked as I stood. The knee spawned a “caution” warning and my stupid jackport responded by lighting up the olfactory receptors in my brain. A rotten-egg stench overwhelmed me. The repair gel needed more time to do its job. Too bad I didn’t have the luxury of waiting. My new assignment had a priority flag, which meant Mako Corp was monitoring the case. As our police department’s financial sponsor, Mako’s interests took precedence over those of regular people.
I wrinkled my nose. My faulty jackport wasn’t the only thing that stank.
The shuttle port was on the far side of the dome. It’d take half the day to get there on the underground metro, so I opted for the Sky Light tram instead. The fare was more money than I earned in a week, but since I was on priority police business, the department picked up the tab.
I settled into the padded seat and opened the preliminary case file. Info was sparse. I studied Rosa Diego’s ID and photo as the tram ascended, skimming the arc of the dome. At level 32, the lights went dark—a nice dramatic touch—and an eyeblink later, pink sunlight filtered through the honeycombed outer dome shell. I turned my face to the glow. Aches momentarily forgotten, I felt almost young again as I savored the natural light. No wonder the rich folks flocked up here to live. Charlie tinged agreement.
The ride ended sooner than I would’ve liked. I exited the tram at the shuttle port, mourning the return to artificial lighting, and descended to the passenger deck. Four of the five landing bays held ships in various stages of loading and unloading. Overhead screens showed a fifth ship dropping out of orbit and angling for the empty slot. People jostled past, and I winced each time someone bumped into me.
An attendant from the transport company, Mako Travel, met me at the gate. She politely ignored the grinding noise coming from my leg as she escorted me to Rosa Diego’s cabin.
The room held a bunk and a small table, both bolted to the floor. The tiny port window gaped like an open mouth, rimmed with a bloody smear. Hard to imagine a human body fitting through that little hole.
“Any video?” I asked.
“No,” the attendant replied. “When the window destabilized, it knocked out the monitoring systems on this side of the ship. Went offline a few hours after departure.”
“So, the body’s floating somewhere between here and Commerce Station?”
“Whatever’s left of the body,” she said.
I grimaced, studying the damaged port. “You said a meteorite caused the blow out?”
“That’s what the maintenance crew reported. It’s rare, but it happens.”
“Any other cabins damaged?”
“No.”
Huh. Freakishly bad luck?
There were no loose items in sight. Presumably, everything that wasn’t secured had slammed out the window in the split-second before the automatic depressurization shield sealed off the cabin. I poked around the room and spied an envelope caught between a shattered cabinet panel and the bulkhead. The paper was luxurious to the touch, a thick bamboo-weave. It held a graduation announcement from the Mars University School of Law. “Mom, wish you could be here!” was scrawled on the back. Looked like Rosa Diego’s son was named Jeremy, and he was slated to graduate that night.
Too bad his mom wouldn’t be in the audience.
As I dropped the card into an evidence bag, Charlie clicked and all the joints froze up; hip, knee, and ankle. A surge of ice water hit my brain and my entire body clenched.
I wished Charlie could warn me before his janky-assed processor tried to reboot itself. I concentrated on relaxing each muscle group from my shoulders down to my calves—the real one and the fake one—hoping to speed the process. Sometimes the relaxation technique helped. But not this time; the reboot failed, looping to try again. I’d have to stand there like an idiot and wait. I unlocked my jaw and opened my eyes.
Several passengers were crowded around the cabin door, gaping wide-eyed at the missing window and the blood. A short, dark-haired guy frowned at the evidence bag clenched in my fist. He bounced lightly on his feet, the way new arrivals often do as they adjust to new gravity.
The attendant rolled her eyes and muttered, “gawkers.” She hurried them along, answering their concerns with “nothing to worry about,” and “proceed to the gate.”
“We done here?” she asked after scooting the last rubbernecker out of the corridor.
My leg was back online, but didn’t want to move yet. “One more question,” I said, buying Charlie another moment to recalibrate. “How much does a private cabin like this cost?”
“A fortune, but Ms. Diego was riding on a free Mako employee voucher. Look, I need to get back to work. Corporate only allocated a few minutes for this, and they’ll dock my pay if I’m not back at my regular station soon.”
I didn’t want to cause her any trouble, but I hated to be rushed in my work. “Does Mako give those vouchers to all its employees?”
She snorted. “Are you kidding? They don’t even let us attendants ride for free. A chunk of my paycheck is withheld to cover my bunk in the employee cabin.”
Huh. Should’ve known it’d be like that. I gave the room another once-over. When I was sure I hadn’t missed anything, I flexed my knee. Thankfully, Charlie was ready to go. “Sorry for taking your time, Ma’am.”
Jeremy Diego lived in a ratty studio apartment on the edge of campus. The rumble of the underground metro vibrated up through the floor, rattling the walls. I made a note to check the safety inspection log in this block of apartments because it felt like the entire building was on the verge of collapse. Jeremy didn’t seem concerned about structural integrity, though. He was busy arguing with me about his mother’s whereabouts, refusing to believe she’d been on the shuttle.
“Mom never travels,” he said. “She only leaves the apartment to go to work. There’s no way she’d take a shuttle off-station.”
“Not even for your graduation?”
He sighed. “It’s just too expensive. Besides, she would have told me if she was coming.”
Charlie made a soft scritch, and I nodded. What about the free travel voucher? Something wasn’t adding up.
I showed Jeremy the graduation announcement. “This your handwriting?”
He glanced at the card and blanched. “Where did you get this?”
“It was in your mom’s cabin, on the shuttle.”
He shook his head. “No. No…this can’t be right.”
His shock and denial seemed authentic. Poor kid. I gave him a moment to process the news, then launched into my questions; better to get as much information as possible before the real sorrow set in.
“Jeremy,” I began, “when did you last see your mom?”
He blinked and refocused on me. “I talked to her on vid last week. Called to tell her I took the job with the Justice Group.”
The name was familiar. “Is that a law firm?”
He paused to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, they… help regular people when the companies screw them over. Maybe you’ve seen their ads? The little harpoon?”
“Ah, I remember.” Their logo was a stylized harpoon fired into the underbelly of the giant Mako Corp shark. I’d been tempted to contact the firm about getting Charlie’s repair costs covered. I mean, I got Charlie because of a work-related injury—a firefight in a cargo hold over contraband jackports—so I thought the PD should, at least, pay for basic maintenance. But, since Mars PD is under Mako’s official sponsorship… well, there was nothing my bosses could do when the corporation pulled the plug on Charlie’s experimental tech. And the Mako shark didn’t like little fish like me making waves.
Which brought me back to Jeremy Diego.
“Your mom worked for Mako, right?”
He grunted. “Yeah, at Mako headquarters. She’s been an administrative assistant in the executive suite for thirty years, always working overtime.”
Interesting. “So, she was privy to the bigwigs’ daily activities?”
“I guess so?” He closed his eyes, lips trembling. “I can’t believe she’s gone, on top of everything else that’s happened.”
“Everything else?”
“A few days ago, Mako Finance notified us that I owe a lot more money on my student loan. Mom’s special employee interest rate has been retroactively canceled. Apparently, my upcoming graduation triggered their billing cycle, and my first payment is due in 30 days.”
Another scritch hummed through Charlie’s frame, and I agreed. “Can they do that? Change loan terms after the fact?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Not legally. I messaged Mom about it. She was afraid it was because of my new employer. She was going to check into it, but she didn’t call me back. Maybe she was already…oh.”
The kid’s head dropped into his hands. This was the worst part of my job.
The waiting area at Mako Medical was empty. I hoped that meant I could get in and out quickly, but then I realized everyone ahead of me had simply given up and left. I pulled a couple of chairs together and propped Charlie up. The grinding in my knee hadn’t improved, and the juncture between my remaining hip bone and Charlie’s anchor socket kept misfiring. The pain bounced between sharp jackport spikes and a deep real-bone ache.
I massaged my other leg, which occasionally helped, even though that made no sense. While I worked my fingers along tired thigh muscles, my mind returned to the bloody porthole in Rosa Diego’s cabin.
“Charlie, do you believe a meteorite took out a tiny window in a single cabin?” I grimaced as another spike of ouch hit me. “Yeah, me neither. I’m confused about Ms. Diego, too. Jeremy said she didn’t travel, wasn’t even gonna attend her only kid’s graduation. What made her get on that shuttle at the last minute?”
My knee twinged.
I nodded. “Jeremy accepted a job with the law firm that wants to take down Mako Corp, and then Mako rescinded his mom’s employee loan rate. Shitty, but it makes sense, right?”
Ting.
“Okay, so why would Mako then give her an upgrade to a pricey cabin on one of their ships?”
My comm chimed, scattering my thoughts. I didn’t recognize the ID.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Detective Amelia Li? I’m contacting you to set up an appointment to replace your outdated prosthetic.”
Charlie’s input sensors tightened. I patted my thigh reassuringly while stammering at the guy on the comm. “Uh, I can’t afford a new leg. I just want some stronger repair gel.”
The man continued, “We’re prepared to offer the upgraded leg at no cost. As soon as your current case is closed, we can get you on the schedule.”
“The Diego case?”
“That’s the one.”
“Uh huh.” I’d been requesting better maintenance for ten years, and now they wanted to help? Pisses me off when they try to manipulate me. “What’s your hurry?”
“Detective, you might be surprised at how much money we lose every hour that shuttle sits empty, taking up space in the port. We need the paperwork signed off. After all, it was an unavoidable act of nature, wasn’t it?”
“Do you work for Mako Medical or Mako Travel?”
“Does it matter?” he said. “Close the investigation, get a new leg. Everybody wins.”
Yeah, everyone except the dead lady floating in space. I broke the connection.
“What do you think, Charlie. Is a day’s delay really costing them that much money?”
Charlie didn’t respond.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not gonna replace you.” I rotated my ankle in tight circles while my suspicions coalesced. “This might sound crazy, Charlie, but hear me out. What if Mako murdered Ms. Diego? Easier to off one person in a private cabin than blow out an entire ship. Cheaper, too.”
Charlie tinged and scritched simultaneously.
“Yeah, good point. Why kill her? Maybe she went into revenge-mode when they screwed her on the kid’s student loan. Working in the executive offices, she probably has some serious dirt on the top dogs. Wouldn’t be the first time a company ordered a hit on an employee who knew too much.”
And it wouldn’t be the first time they tried to bribe a cop to cover it up.
I winced at another pain spasm. Maybe I should have asked the corporate goon for a big wad of cash. It’d be nice to fix Charlie up properly.
A nurse finally brought out a tube of Mako Extra Strength Repair Gel. “Use this sparingly,” she said. “You’re not approved for any more until next month.”
A loud blarp came out of my knee.
Back at the precinct, I put a tracer on Jeremy. If Mako had killed his mom, they might target him next. Especially if they thought she’d shared their dirty secrets with him and his new employer. The trace came online, showing Jeremy headed toward the University auditorium. Guess he decided to put on his cap and gown, despite recent events.
The new repair gel had wormed into the mysterious mechanics of my leg. I’d splurged and used a full dose, knowing I’d regret the extravagance before the end of the month. But at that moment, I was just happy my interface had stopped slinging electronic shrapnel across my brain.
“Wanna go to the ceremony?” I asked Charlie. “Probably a boring graduation speech, but the kid might need protection.”
Scritch.
That rookie was staring at me again, so I whispered. “I don’t want to go either, but we’ll feel stupid if something happens and we’re not there.”
Charlie didn’t complain, so I hightailed it to Mars University. My stride was almost smooth.
I stood at the back of the auditorium, scanning the crowd. Jeremy sat with the rest of the graduates near the stage. Seemed safe enough.
A short man moved in front of me, standing on tiptoes. Lots of people were doing that, trying to find their loved one among the throng of tasseled caps. Something about this guy was familiar, though. He bounced like a tourist trying to adjust to Mars gravity. He turned to slide into a seat and I got a good look at his face, then I placed him. One of the rubberneckers from the shuttle.
Was he a Mako assassin, here to finish the job? Or just another parent from Commerce Station, eager to see his kid get their diploma? His movements were timid, hugging his arms around himself like he was cold. Or nervous.
“Does he look like an assassin to you, Charlie?”
Scritch.
“Hmm. Back at the shuttle, he was focused on the evidence bag with the graduation announcement. Who’d fixate on that, when all the other looky-loos were gawking at the bloody window?”
Ting ting.
“Way ahead of you, buddy.” I called up Rosa Diego’s image on my comm. Tasteful makeup, longer hair, but otherwise the same short person.
Rosa Diego was very much alive.
“Didn’t expect that, did ya, Charlie?”
I maneuvered through the crowd and took the seat next to her. She didn’t acknowledge me, edging away with hunched shoulders.
“Congratulations on Jeremy’s graduation,” I whispered.
Her breath hitched and she lurched up, but I grabbed her wrist and held her firmly.
“I’m Detective Li, Mars Dome PD. If you cooperate, I’ll let you watch your kid walk across the stage before I take you in.”
She tugged against my grasp, panic lines etching her face. “Let go!”
I rose halfway out of my seat and tightened my grip.
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then stiffly lowered back into her chair. “You’re with the police? Not Mako?”
There was real fear in her voice. I tried to project a non-threatening demeanor as I called up my badge. “See? I’m Amelia Li, with dome police. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
She stared at my face, and I guess she decided I was telling the truth because her ready-to-run energy ebbed. I get that reaction a lot. People are often wary of cops, but I have the advantage of looking like someone’s grandma. Puts folks at ease. Still, perspiration dotted Ms. Diego’s forehead.
“Detective,” she began hesitantly. “You have to understand. I’m out of options.”
“Uh huh.” My theory about her murder was clearly wrong; the puzzle pieces realigned as I considered her anguish. “I understand why Mako rescinded your loan agreement, but…you faked your death? Why?”
Her jaw tightened. I thought she was going to clam up, but instead she exhaled a sharp, angry breath.
“Do you know what a law degree costs? I spent years working nights and weekends to qualify for Jeremy’s reduced loan rate, and they stole it away. He’ll never be able to pay it off. My grandkids will inherit this debt.”
“How does your death fix that?”
“The life insurance payout, obviously.”
Obviously? Ouch. “Surely Mako would weasel out of that payment, too?”
“I got the policy through Jackal Life, not Mako. I just…wanted my boy to have a fair chance.”
Huh. So Mako wasn’t to blame. At least, not for Ms. Diego’s death. I guess the schmuck on my comm wasn’t lying when he said they only wanted me to rush the shuttle paperwork. “How’d you blow the window?”
She scowled, trying to avoid my eyes. “Jeremy would tell me not to answer your questions. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. I used thermal detonator tape from one of the labs at work.”
“Mako Mercenary?”
“Yes.”
Yikes. That stuff should never have made it aboard a ship. Ms. Diego probably knew the port staff was spread too thin to do a proper security check, especially since she was flying on a corporate voucher. Charlie tinged.
“Why did Mako give you a free ticket?”
“They didn’t.” Her voice tremored as she continued. “I … used my boss’s credentials to establish a new identity and book the private cabins on the shuttle.”
“Cabins, plural?”
“Yes, one in my old name, one in my new name. I stuck the thermal tape on the window and set it to detonate after departure. Then I cut my hair, smeared some blood on the bulkhead, and checked into the second cabin.”
“But you lost Jeremy’s announcement card.”
“I didn’t realize I’d dropped it until I saw it in your hand. I’d hoped to keep it, you know, as a memento.”
I paused. “This all makes sense, but won’t your boss discover you used his credentials?”
She laughed, a bitter croak. “He never pays attention to administrative details. I had to create fake identities for him several times, with legitimate identichips, too. Not those flimsy blackmarket spoofers.” She scowled again. “One of the perks of elite management. The records are auto-deleted.”
Charlie scritched, and I nodded, imagining what corporate magnates could do with foolproof fake identities. Those guys were already above most laws. What else did they need to get away with? One thing was certain: they’d kill to keep this perk hidden. I wondered how many headquarters admins had met untimely deaths? No wonder Ms. Diego had been so frightened.
Jeremy’s name echoed from the stage. I leaned back, quiet, while she watched her son accept the diploma she’d worked so hard to finance. No disguise could hide the pride that emanated from her in that moment.
Jeremy glanced at the audience, unsmiling. He slumped and trudged off stage.
“He looks sad, doesn’t he?” she whispered.
“Well, he did lose his mom today.”
She flinched and closed her eyes. “I’d planned to reveal my new identity to him. I have an admin job lined up at the Justice Group, to be close to him, and to help other people Mako has cheated.”
Gutsy scheme. Seemed like she’d pulled it off, too. Not many people manage to outsmart the system. What else might she do, with her knowledge of corporate shenanigans and a crusading law firm on her side? I let out a slow breath and leaned back in my chair, chewing on my thoughts. Maybe, just this once, I could look the other way.
A bit of my chronic tension dissipated with the decision.
“What’s your new name?” I asked. “No, wait, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “You… don’t?”
I shook my head. “You might like the apartments in the central corridor of the dome. The living spaces there are similar to Commerce Station. Maybe it’ll help you adjust to life here more quickly.”
Her confusion blossomed into a wide smile. “Oh, thank you,” she whispered.
“Good luck in your new job, Ma’am.”
I headed back to the precinct to file the final report—a rare meteorite; no foul play suspected. Mako’d probably think I was accepting their payoff, but I’d tell them I still wasn’t for sale. Or maybe I’d demand a regular maintenance schedule for Charlie, with a doc who specialized in old tech. I mean, they owed me that much, right?
Charlie tinged.
Myna Chang hosts Electric Sheep SF and publishes MicroVerse Recommended Reading. Her fiction has been selected for the Locus Recommended Reading List, Norton’s Flash Fiction America, and several “Best Of” anthologies, and her poetry has received a Rhysling honorable mention. Find her at MynaChang.com or on Bluesky @MynaChang.
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