Murder on Moon Trek 1 Page 4

  Turns out, it didn’t matter. My mom had applied for me.

  I’ll never forget the day the confirmation packet arrived. “You’re going to change the world, Sylvia, and you’re not going to do it from Plunia.”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone to mine the ice,” I’d said.

  “I haven’t mined the ice in ten years. I’m too old to be out there. The statute of limitations on punishing us for what your father did is over. This is your opportunity to get off this planet and make a life of your own.”

  A good daughter would have said she didn’t want a life of her own, or that her life was right there, taking over the family business. But I hadn’t been able to say those words. The truth was, I’d thought of nothing but getting out of Plunia since the day they took my dad to space jail on Colony 13.

  The Moon Unit staff called me for entrance exams. I passed them and aced my interview too. I’d started to believe that it was going to happen when the results of my physical came back.

  Low tolerance of Nitrogen molecule limits physical endurance required of security personnel.

  I’d never known there was a different chemical makeup to the air earthlings breathed. Plunia’s air was 95% oxygen. It was part of what made us a healthy race that outlived the earthlings who had moved to our planet. But the Moon Unit wasn’t designed for Plunians. It was staffed almost entirely of nomadic earthlings who were looking for adventure. Which meant the air was 78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen. That much nitrogen for an extended period of time would cause me to become lightheaded and ultimately to pass out. My job performance couldn’t be trusted in case of emergency.

  I knew I could do it. I knew I could overcome my physical shortcomings and do the job if given the chance. But the council didn’t give me the chance to retake their tests or appeal their decision.

  I didn’t want to believe the results, so I did my own research. Had I spent my life in a mixed-gaseous environment, odds were high that I’d have adjusted to the atmosphere and this wouldn’t have been an issue. But the amount of time I’d spent in the ice mines had made me more dependent on oxygen than I otherwise would have been. There were cases of this all over the universe. Coal miners on Earth who, instead of dying from pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis, had learned to breathe the air deep inside the caves where they spent their days. Their illnesses came from deprivation of the air they’d developed a tolerance to, not from the air itself. It seemed that no matter what, I was destined to live out my life on Plunia.

  Until I heard on the news that the uniform lieutenant had broken her leg while skiing on Mars and that the ship was looking for a last-minute substitute. I hacked into Federation Council’s mainframe computer and copied my information on top of the name of the candidate they were about to confirm. I retrofitted a mining helmet with an air filter that cleaned seventy percent of the impurities out and blended what was left with a slow leak of oxygen that I fed from a tank I wore under my uniform. The Moon Unit boasted pure oxygen as one of the offerings at The Space Bar, their restaurant and entertainment quarters, so once on the ship, it was just a matter of balancing my time in their air with time in my own. The way I saw it, getting onto the ship was ninety percent of the battle.

  Until that darn navigation officer turned up in my closet. I’d checked, double-checked, and triple-checked every single thing that could have gone wrong. I’d never expected a murder.

  Wait a minute. Why’d I think that? Why did my mind go to murder?

  Of course. Of course! And if I could expose his killer, that had to prove to Neptune that I wasn’t a threat. The captain would have to keep me on the ship. He’d probably give me a medal.

  Emergency protocols on the ship stated that accidents, illnesses, and deaths were to be dealt with efficiently so as not to interrupt the vacation experience of the paying passengers. But if I was right—if the second navigation officer had been murdered—he deserved more than quick and quiet treatment. He was my coworker—or he would have been if he hadn’t died. If it had been me, I’d want someone to care.

  I had been the one to find the body, and that meant I knew things nobody else knew. I’d reported it as a Code Blue, but it wasn’t just any Code Blue. It was a Code Navy Blue. If the officer had been sick and died, he might have fallen to the ground. I might have found him behind a fixture or along the wall. I would not have found him in the closet on top of the folded uniforms. The placement of the body was intentional.

  Nobody else knew exactly how he’d been hidden inside the closet before I opened the door. Except maybe Pika, who had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared the moment Yeoman D’Nar stepped into the uniform ward. Pika, who had seemed playful and bursting with childlike innocence. Pika, who had admitted that she wasn’t supposed to be on the ship. Had that all been part of her Gremlon act? Was it possible that she’d committed murder on a whim and not realized the seriousness of her crime?

  I looked away from the observation window, excited about my conclusions, until the sobering reality overwhelmed me.

  A man had been killed. A stowaway had been present. Ship security was busy with an engineering problem and probably wouldn’t even listen to me. But as long as the killer wandered the ship, none of us were safe.

  Pika’s desire to keep her presence on the ship secret would have given her motivation to silence him if he’d discovered her. I’d wanted to figure out one thing, and already I had two. What else did I know?

  The BOP may have dictated that the second navigation officer’s identity was defined by his position on the ship, but like I’d told Dr. Edison, I knew his position and rank because I recognized his uniform. He had two stripes on his cuff, which designated him as the second in charge, not the head of his division. If he’d found Pika in the uniform ward, he would have had a chance to turn her in before departure, but the bigger question was why was he there? If I was among the first regular crew members to board, how did he get there before me?

  He had to have boarded the ship before I did. And the only people who were allowed on the ship before the general crew were security. Which meant the second navigation officer hadn’t been there because he was excited about the departure like I was. He had something else in mind.

  Something like sabotage. In engineering. The second navigation officer had been the threat Neptune was trying to discover.

  6: Unexpected Invitation

  I left the observation deck and took the elevator to the holding cell on the bottom floor. “Hey! Neptune!” I called out.

  He seemed surprised to see me. “I told you to go to your quarters.”

  “I figured something out. Come on, listen to me. If I’m right, which I think I am, then your problems are over, which means my problems are over, because you won’t need me to spy anymore so you can let me go back to my job in the uniform ward.”

  “You are still in my custody. You’ll remain in my custody until the council decides what to do with you.”

  “But you made a mistake. I didn’t do anything wrong! I mean, okay, there might be a problem with my application that we can straighten out at a less crucial time, but I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about Dak—the second navigation officer. He’s your problem, not me. He wasn’t supposed to be in the uniform ward.”

  “Get into the cell.”

  I had willfully returned to the security level to help this security ape, and he was putting me back into holding?

  Neptune pointed into the cell. I didn’t have a lot of options. As soon as I crossed the threshold, he activated the beams. The heat that came off them made my lavender skin flush. I felt dizzy. I stepped farther into the cell to get away.

  “You are impersonating a ship officer,” Neptune said. “That’s a second-degree offense and will be addressed by the council. It’s up to the captain to decide whether we’re going to drop you off on Colony 13 on our way to Ganymede or if it will be less disruptive to the passengers to keep you in custody and deal with you after we land.�
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  “I didn’t impersonate a ship officer. I never lied about who I was, and I never impersonated Daila Teron. Besides, the uniform lieutenant is not an officer. It’s general crew. No privileges, no responsibilities aside from the tasks outlined in the BOP. Yeoman D’Nar is my supervisor, just like all the lieutenants on the ship. Did you notify her to tell her you arrested me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s in the BOP somewhere. A senior officer is to be notified if one of her employees cannot perform their assignment. I can’t perform my assignment from behind fire bars. If I don’t show up, it’s a reflection on her, and you can darn sure believe I’m going to let her know.”

  Neptune planted himself directly opposite me, crossing his arms and straining the fabric of his uniform. I briefly wondered if he had to have it specially made to fit his broad shoulders and massive biceps. I gave him a couple of seconds to speak. At that moment, I would have taken just about any response from him as a sign that he heard me. But he neither spoke nor moved. He stood there staring at me. Assessing me. Judging me.

  “Ask Yeoman D’Nar if she hired me and she’ll say yes. She addressed my orientation packet to Sylvia Stryker and signed my letter of acceptance right below the captain’s signature.” So there, I wanted to add.

  Behind Neptune, a male voice came over the intercom. “Bridge to Security. Come in, Security.”

  Neptune went to the desk and hit a button. “Security, Neptune speaking.”

  “Neptune, it’s Thaddeus. I need you to come to The Space Bar.”

  Thaddeus! The only Thaddeus I knew about was Captain Thaddeus Swift. Neptune was on a first name basis with the captain?

  “I have a security situation,” Neptune grunted in response.

  The captain cleared his throat, and his voice became a little more formal. “Need I remind you that this is not a fighting vessel? It’s a cruise ship. With passengers and entertainment. There’s an open seat at First Dinner. Your presence is required. Your duties involve more than security situations. Non-negotiable. Over.”

  This time Neptune glared at me. He flipped the switch that activated the beams, and instantly they disappeared. “Come with me.”

  I hadn’t expected Neptune to deactivate the security measures he’d put into place. According to the BOP, if I was indeed in custody, then I was supposed to be under surveillance at all times. For whatever reason, instead of calling in reinforcements to take over, it looked like he was letting me go. Aside from the sense that I’d scored a small victory, I was just plain curious.

  I stepped out of the cell, and he pointed. “Walk.”

  A man of few words. I left the security area and approached the elevator. The doors swished open. I got in and crossed my arms. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

  “We’re going to your quarters.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you want the captain to see you violating the uniform code.”

  “What does Captain Swift have to do with anything? It’s probably dinner time. How’s he going to see me? Won’t he be dining with the paying passengers on board the ship?”

  “We’re going to dinner at The Space Bar. It’s the first night of the journey, and Purser Frank requires a full banquet room. The second navigation officer has been unavoidably detained—” he paused, presumably to give me time to acknowledge that we weren’t mentioning the details of what had happened to Lt. Dakkar out loud—“so there’s an empty table.”

  “And you’re taking his place,” I guessed. He nodded. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “You’re in my custody.” He held his square plastic passkey in front of the elevator scanner. “I trust when you prepared for the journey to the moon, you packed evening attire?”

  “Just get me to my quarters. I’ll figure something out.” I crossed my arms, mimicking his body language, and pouted. We both stood there for a moment.

  “Floor?”

  “Oh, come on. You claim to know everything else about me. You probably already snuck into my quarters and went through my luggage.”

  “I’ll let you lead the way.”

  “I can’t activate the elevator because you took my passkey.”

  “What makes you think you need a passkey to get to your quarters?”

  “Because you used your passkey to get us to the sublevels and according to the ship schematics”—oops, best not to elaborate on my knowledge of the ship’s schematics—“just use your passkey to get us to level two.”

  Neptune seemed pleased. I was starting to wonder if the only time he smiled was when he caught people lying. Not a bad trait for a security officer. He pressed a series of buttons on the control panel. The doors swished shut, and the car moved sideways. I grabbed the rail to help keep my balance, too late, and bumped into Neptune. It was like bumping into a rock with a blanket wrapped around it.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. I backed away two steps and held the railing tightly until the elevator car eased to a halt.

  Neptune exited first. He turned to me. “You are to stay within five feet of me at all times. If you try to get away, I will advise the captain to drop you off at Colony 13 regardless of what it means to the paying passengers. Do you understand?”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said for the thousandth time.

  “Do. You. Understand?” he repeated.

  “Yes.”

  Neptune stood back and indicated that I should lead the way. I assumed it was because he didn’t trust me and thought I’d make a break for it if left behind. I reached my door and held my hand up to the panel outside of it. The doors swished open. I turned to him. “If I’m not supposed to be on this ship, how come the doors respond to my body chemistry?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I went inside. On top of the table, next to a vase with a single Plunian flower, was a small robotic cat that I built when I was ten. It had turquoise ears and eyes, and when Neptune put his hand out toward it, it lifted its head and meowed. Neptune pulled his hand away in surprise. Too bad I hadn’t programmed the cat to bite.

  “Don’t mind Cat. He only meows when he senses something near him that isn’t me.”

  “How does it know I’m not you? Sound chip would work, but I haven’t said anything.”

  “It reacts to voice and temperature.” And fingerprint, but I wasn’t going to tell Neptune that. No need to give away all my secrets. “He’s a boy.”

  Neptune tipped his head and looked at Cat’s butt. “How can you tell?”

  “Because he can’t have kittens.”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  I opened the orange cabinet that held my extra uniforms and my off-duty clothes. I never expected to get invited to First Dinner on the ship. That was a privilege reserved for officers and passengers. The rest of the crew got our meals from the food machines in the employee lounge. There was nothing in the computer about how to dress when I wasn’t working, and anything I might have found out through regular crew gossip would happen after tonight—which would be too late.

  I turned and glared at Neptune. “You’re not planning on standing there while I change, are you?”

  “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He swiped his hand past the door panel, and the doors swished open. “Wear the blue one,” he said over his shoulder, and left.

  7: First Chance to Sleuth

  There was no way to check the locks on a spaceship. If Neptune was giving me time to change, then I was going to take it. I unhooked my collar at the back of my neck and shimmied out of my modified (torn) uniform. It fell to the floor in a metallic magenta pile. I kicked it off with the toe of my boot and then grabbed the aqua blue dress from the closet and pulled it over my head. I piled my dark hair on top of my head and secured it with a silver conical clip, letting the curly ends spill down over my crown. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed what I’d suspected, that the pale aqua made my lavender skin, in contrast, look radioactive. Here’s hoping the passengers were open-minded.

/>   The lack of quality oxygen all day had left me tired and short of breath. I reached into my luggage on top of the closet and pulled out a spare canister of O2. There wasn’t a ton of time, so I inhaled and exhaled two deep breaths of it, hid it in the closet, and left my room. Neptune waited for me in the hallway.

  In the short amount of time that it had taken me to transition from ship prisoner to crew member date at First Dinner, Neptune had undergone his own transformation. Gone were his coveralls, and in their place was a white dress uniform that consisted of a military-inspired jacket and trousers. The white fabric made his tawny skin stand out in contrast. The ship insignia was stitched onto the collar, but the garment was otherwise clear of bands to indicate rank or privilege. I assumed the lack of accoutrements had to do with his desire not to draw attention to himself.

  My door swished shut behind me. The fabric of my dress caught in the door. Neptune held his hand up and the door open. I stepped away and smoothed the fabric down. The doors swished shut again. Neptune stepped closer to me and clamped a weighted metal bracelet around my left wrist. The same magnetic pull that I’d felt between my boots and the walls of the cell in the subbasement pulled my wrist toward the railing embedded to the ship’s walls.

  “What’s this?”

  “Cuff bracelet. You seemed under-accessorized.” He smiled that annoying joke-at-my-expense smile. “So you don’t get any ideas.”

  I balled my fist and shook my arm a few times to see if I could make it fall off. (I could not.) “It doesn’t go with this dress.”

  “Need I remind you that you’re still in my custody?”

  “No, you needn’t,” I said with a trace of annoyance.

  Neptune stared at my outfit. “The dress looks...different than I expected.”