(extract)
…
They spot the body about 300 metres along the Connector.
“Stop!” says Marl. “This is the scene, mate,” she adds when Beau hesitates. “Let’s not drive through it, eh?”
“Sun’s still low,” she says after they jump out of the ute. “She’ll pick out any tracks.”
They walk slowly forward, scanning the scene as carefully as their helmets allow. The feet are towards them, the soleplates hiding the rest of the body. There are no tracks or marks in the dirt (‘regolith’ if I have to write a report, thinks Beau) on this side of the body, but it looks like there might be some on the far side.
The head is exposed – no helmet.
Though it doesn’t look much like a head.
The face is collapsed in. The skin is shredded. Snapped bones poke out of the face. The skull is cracked open across the crown, the back half lolling over to one side. The eyes are hollow sockets.
Marl’s screamed Fuuuuck! sears in Beau’s helmet. As she gets closer she follows it up with a No-o-o-oy! that’s almost as painful. OK, it is a grisly sight. But Beau thinks she is overreacting.
Then he recalls that he is the only one here – perhaps anywhere – who’s seen something like it before.
“You OK?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure. A shock, is all,” she replies between deep breaths.
Tearing their eyes away from the head, they see that the belly and chest have exploded through the suit, leaving ribs sticking up like an old shipwreck.
Round the body is a crazy scatter of odd-shaped pinkish pebbles. Beau leans in, picks up one from the edge of the spread and holds it to his faceplate, muttering, “Mmm.”
“Looks like he swallowed a grenade,” says Marl when he doesn’t continue.
“The pressure in your suit: this is what it protects you from. Body temperature is 37°. Water boils at 7°. Let the pressure out of a person’s suit and their fluids turn to gas in an instant. That’s what caused this.”
“Well that’s a fuckerama. How d’you… Oh, yeah. You’re the one found Lol. Must be ugly memories.”
To change the subject she studies the ground a bit, then asks, “What are those pebbles?”
“Him. Lumps of freeze-dried flesh.”
“Break it to me gently, why don’t you?”
“I think it’s likely murder,” says Beau.
“Ya think?!”
“I’m new to this, OK, but if he did this to hisself, where’s his helmet?”
Jeez, thinks Marl, no kidding! It’s, like, the first thing I noticed.
“You recognise him?” Beau asks.
“You’re kidding!”
“How you reacted. I thought you did.”
“Well I thought it might be JiHo, but – jeez – there’s no way of telling from that.”
“About the right size and build, I guess. I’ll update Meena.”
Marl approaches the body, trying to avoid standing on more of the pebbles than she has to, bends down and slides the comm out of his belt. She only hears Beau’s side of the comm that follows: “Dead … Yeah, no question … Could be Yang JiHo of 8 … Not sure … Good idea … That too … Out.”
Turning to Marl he asks, “So what do we do now?”
“You’re the sheriff mate!”
“And you’re the ex-cop. Listen, being sheriff of Jaee Kaupunki just means getting to know people, helping them when I can, trying to keep the place safe and tidy, listening for signs of discontent and, above all, being visible. Leastways it did till this morning. Beat Cop I can almost do. Detective: no idea.”
“Yeah, fair dos mate. What’d Meena say?”
“She’s gonna visit 8 and also get Chris to rig up some kinda screen or tent.”
They look towards the Connector. There are probably gawpers at the nearest portholes.
“Good,” says Marl. “Smart lady.”
A movement over in the Hive’s yard catches her eye. A ute with four suited figures is already heading out towards them. She begins to wave her arm in a furious sweeping motion towards the rockier ground over to the east. Beau twigs and joins in. The ute driver finally gets it and diverts so as to approach the scene in a broad arc without driving over any tracks.
“So why don’t we do this?” resumes Marl. “Photograph the scene, like we should have done when we got here, then inspect those marks in the dirt before they get scrubbed out. After that, find ourselves somewhere to use as an incident room.”
“Sounds good.”
“But for the record I was never a detective. I got most of that off TV shows.”
●
When they arrive back at the Mansion they find two suits hanging to dry in the interfoyer. Beau photographs them, with closeups of their ID tags, then finds the corresponding lifepacks in the rack and photographs the air and power indicators. “Good thinking,” says Marl.
Beau is relieved that Marl is relaxed about sharing the inner shower with him. The few residents who cling to their modesty really slow things down, and he is impatient to bring the morning’s events to some sort of order. (If anything she is too relaxed, her towel slapping him on the ass twice while they dry off.)
From the shower block they head to the classroom, which Meena has cleared of bookings for them. They shut the blinds then link their devices to the room and, on the big screen, lay out the images that seem most informative: the murder wall.
“That one,” says Marl pointing to a close-up of the wrecked face. “Can we do without it? I see it every time I blink – we don’t need it on the wall too.”
Beau unshares it.
They pace in silence before the screen, study the images methodically.
“OK, so what now?” asks Beau as they start going over the images a third time.
“Don’t be such a drongo!”
Fearing she’s gone too far, she goes on in softer tones, “Look, big guy, I’ve got some ideas but then so do you. Let’s both make a list and compare notes.” She hopes he notices that she’d been paying enough attention in the shower to call him big guy…
He doesn’t.
The lists don’t take long.
“OK,” begins Beau, “I got: Confirm the victim is JiHo. Talk to his habmates – see if they know of any disagreements. Check his devices – comms, transactions, interests and other stuff to help us understand what was going down in his life. Look for his helmet. And see if we can get anything from CCTV.”
“What’s the story on CCTV?”
“Naa-aah! Your list first!”
“OK, I had all of yours except CCTV – that’s why I asked. First priority is a timeline: find out where everyone was at the time of death.”
“Of course!” exclaims Beau, slapping himself on the head. “D’you get that from TV shows too?!”
“Well yeah, as it goes. Then talk to everyone, not just his habmates, including the guys up at the Hive. Find out what it takes to remove a helmet against the wearer’s will. Find out where all the utes were overnight – they have trackers, yeah? And send the scene photos down to Earth – could be they’ve got someone who’ll see things we can’t. Also – I’ve just thought of it – see if MSM Inc can get us an experienced investigator to consult with.”
“Right on, good list.” Why didn’t I think of those? he wonders. “The helmet thing: absolutely.”
“But before any of that…”
…