Death Warrant

No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. This poor woman’s gaping mouth, bulging eyes and visible terror told me she tried, at least. I double-checked the mag lock on my borrowed boots as I shuffled sideways to get a better look at her body, still twenty feet away. A tiny trail of blood had trickled from her lips, forming a delicate line that led deeper into the cargo bay, evidence that scream didn’t empty her lungs fast enough to prevent the vacuum of space from explosive decompression, shredding the internal tissue. Ebullition had vaporized the water in her body, pushing it to the surface of her skin, distorting her face into a bloated mask.

“It was likely a tragic accident.” The big Marine commander next to me didn’t seem all that happy I was here. Well, that made two of us. “I’m sure you made the trip for nothing, detective.”

I grunted as I forced myself to take another step. Tethered by the mags or not, they weren’t mine so how did I know they could be trusted? But this arrogant officer’s attitude had me pushing myself despite the phobia that stirred panic’s burbling song and dance inside my guts.

I really hated space.

“Cas, you made it.” I turned slowly, carefully to find Dr. Elrod Danter approaching in chugging steps, saluting me as he came to a halt at my side with a heavy exhale. “You met Foster,” he nodded to the Marine. “Detective Cassandra Whoule.” The Marine and I had done the name exchange thing already, but I let it go. “Sorry about this, Cas. Deager wasn’t available and I needed your opinion.”

Elrod was an old friend. Probably the only friend I’d come to space for, orders or not. But with the station’s only trained investigator out of commission and back on the planet, I was next in line for the job. Not that I was staying. Hell to the nope. The second I had a handle on this case, I was on the first shuttle home with as much alcohol in my system as I could down and a hearty middle finger extended to the vast expanse of nothingness.

If I never left Earth again, I'd be a happy woman. For now, work would have to serve as sufficient distraction. “Tell me what I’m looking at.”

“Not sure yet,” he said while the soldier at my side made a sound like he was about to interrupt. I ignored Commander Haspen Foster, focusing on the medical examiner for the station. I hadn’t seen Elrod in a year or so, since he took this ridiculous job, though he didn’t seem any the worse for wear, his blue eyes as bright as ever against his dark skin, black hair tucked under the lip of his helmet showing he’d grown it out enough he was a mass of curls. “I wanted to hold off until you arrived.” His gaze flickered over my shoulder as he spoke, the twist to his lips enough information. It was clear the Marines wanted this swept away and ignored if possible. Which meant Elrod was playing by the book so hard it might come back and smack him in the ass.

Well, I was here now, damn it. Might as well have my friend’s back.

“The victim was found six hours ago,” Elrod said, his hand monitor flickering as he showed me the file I’d already reviewed on the shuttle ride to the station. This was good. Focusing on the screen helped me forget that space hung out the open bay door beyond me like a gobbling monster waiting to swallow me whole.

No screaming, Cas. Not in front of the children.

“No one’s touched her since?” I turned to the commander who nodded.

“Two trainees discovered Cadet Ellis like this,” Foster said, gesturing toward her. Why didn’t he seem all that broken up over the loss of one of his cadets? Marine stoicness made me want to punch something.

“Security footage?” I already knew the answer, the commander’s mouth compressing behind his helmet visor, dark eyes flickering sideways toward the camera mounted at the back of the bay.

“Unfortunately,” Foster said like it really was a misfortune and not suspicious or anything, “there was a malfunction.”

Sure there was, grunt boy. “Who found her?”

Foster gestured and two suited trainees joined us, their space gear still new, their youth past their visors making their freshly minted status obvious. It was also obvious neither had seen a dead body before because their matching paleness and wide eyes made them look about ready to barf in their spacesuits. “Cadet Sanchez and Cadet Toshi discovered their fellow trainee and reported it immediately.” Both nodded with vigor.

“I stayed with Maggie,” Sanchez said, blinking rapidly. "Cadet Mills."

“And I went for the commander,” Toshi said, voice cracking a little. They exchanged a look. “Ma’am, did someone kill her?”

I didn’t answer that, though I wasn’t beyond empathy for the pair despite my present state of discomfort. “Did she have any enemies that you knew of? Any confrontations or incidents?”

Their hesitation preceded their mutual head shaking which had me sighing inwardly. Why did people always lie? I’d find the truth regardless. This just made my job harder and more frustrating.

Space or not, I was still a detective, and I had a job to do.

“I’d like to close the bay doors now,” Foster said.

“Not yet.” I would have jumped at the suggestion, thank you, but Elrod shut the commander down with a sharp cut of one gloved hand. “There might be evidence that’s lost if we return to gravity and atmosphere.” I highly doubted it, honestly. As I observed the two men staring each other down, I realized it had less to do with preserving the scene and more macho freaking testosterone bullshit.

I was going to kick Elrod’s ass when I got him alone. For now, I would just have to live with the gaping maw of looming death luring me to the blackness and empty nothing of silent threat.

Yup, space, yo. Seriously.

I left the glaring ME and commander behind, the two cadets at their side, to begin my own investigation. At least the body was tethered, hanging near the opening but close enough from the edge I didn’t have to live through a full panic attack to get a good look at her in her present state. The hiss-clunk of the mag boots kept me as grounded as the breathing exercise I practiced, carrying me to the edge of the bay and the floating body. I was forced to duck under the thin line of hanging blood, deep red with the oxygen boiled off. A hell of a way to die. Only reminding me, naturally, that a similar death awaited me on the other side of the body.

Cassie. Focus.

Thudding steps approached, Elrod joining me, looking up at the cadet’s corpse. “What do you think?”

I sighed as I switched my com to private, Elrod doing the same, when I pointed to the cadet’s right hand. The glove had torn away, a deep cut on her palm also trailing blood. Not exactly a smoking gun, but certainly suspicious. “I think the possibility this was an accident is going down by the second.” Just my luck. Was it wrong I wanted the commander to be correct? An accident meant I got to go home, back to good old terra firma. I clenched my teeth against my mental protesting and gave myself a firm shake. Enough whining. The cadet deserved my full attention. “Tell me I’m here because you suspected foul play and not because you have a gripe with Foster.”

Elrod flashed me a grin. “I missed you,” he said. Laughed like this was hilarious.

Oh, he’d pay. He’d be getting me drunk when this was over, on him. And alcohol wasn’t cheap up here, either. “We really need to close the doors.” Did that come out as pained as it sounded?

Again, he chuckled. “I know,” he said. “Give me a second.”

I watched him spin away, raise one hand to the commander, before I turned back to the body. And groaned, my gaze following the trajectory of blood from her hand. “Wait.” It came out strangled, but it worked, Elrod waving Foster off, the ME turning to look up at me with surprise. “Look.” I pointed at the edge of the door, something shiny and out of place catching the light as the station’s orbit shifted it into sunlight. The cadet’s blood trail led right to it.

“I’ll have one of the Marines get it,” Elrod said. But I shook my head despite his offer.

“I’ll get it.” Because I was an idiot with a death wish. “Bag?”

He hesitated then sighed. “Are you sure?”

“It’s my job,” I growled at him. “You brought me here for a reason, right? And if Foster or his people are hiding the truth behind this girl’s death, do you really want to trust them with evidence that could prove it?”

He handed over a collection bag, the white carbon fiber weightless in my hand. “Just be careful.”

He didn’t just say that to me, did he? If he jinxed me…

It was five steps to the edge. Five little hiss-thuds, that was it. Why then did it feel like it took forever? The fan in my helmet struggled to keep up with my labored breathing, fog forming despite its valiant efforts, and I had to stop halfway to stare at the boots on my feet, my hand clenched around the bag, to refocus and distract before my heart exploded from the strain. Elrod said something I didn’t comprehend through my haze of terror, but I waved vaguely behind me in response figuring if I didn’t, he’d keep talking. I needed him to shut the hell up already.

Breathe, Cass. Just breathe.

Looking down helped until I reached the edge and then down was the last place my gaze needed to be. Oh, and straight ahead or up, too, because that giant, open doorway? Filled my entire view. Sure, you might think a solid expanse of Earth and the sun and the moon might be a once-in-a-lifetime memory to cherish. Me? I had to swallow three times to keep from throwing up.

The shining thing that led me to this terrible life choice saved me from choking on my fear, the line of blood a perfectly drawn trail to the item in question. I reached up for it, just past my height, my grasping fingertips missing the edge of what looked like a wrench embedded in the metal of the door. Part of it had been sheared away, the rough remains of the shaft melted slightly. I reached again, desperate to grab it, only to accept the truth.

If I was going to retrieve it, I would have to release my mag boots and float.

I did it before I could stop myself in a hit of courage I swear came from somewhere so deep inside me I’d never find it again. I knew I’d made a fatal error—no pun intended—the instant my boots released, and my reaching motion lifted me off from the deck. I was in a bad position, half twisted from trying to grasp the wrench, which meant my trajectory wasn’t perfectly aligned with my goal, but slightly angled.

Which meant, as my fingers brushed the handle, my body floated out the door and into open space.

It could have ended badly. Should have, maybe. And while I fully understood there was no way I’d be stranded outside, that they could send someone to rescue me pretty easily, that it wasn’t like stepping out into the open was the end of me, it felt like it.

My fingers scrabbled for purchase as a deep gasp filled my lungs so much that my chest tightened. Even as my grasp locked around the wrench and pulled it free.

Not a good thing. Without its support, I found myself drifting out the door, only my feet still inside, when I desperately palmed the mag lock.

The impact made me grunt, my ankles aching from the sudden impact as the boots—thank you, boots—did their job, reconnecting me with violent precision to the station. Panting and shaking, knowing the stink I caught on my helmet fan was the fear sweat drenching me, I turned my back on the open bay door and, with trembling steps, retreated to Elrod.

You'd think having the view at my back would make me feel better. Instead, terror clung to me, imagination turning the gaping bay door into a yawning mouth ready to swallow me whole. The amount of effort it took to wrangle my phobia had me so intent that I reached Elrod before I realized I'd done so. Only his hand on my arm stopped me in place. If he hadn't touched me? I know I would have kept marching forever.

Or, at least until I left this madhouse.

He took the bag I'd forgotten I held from me without a word, opening it so I could slide the wrench inside. My fingers didn't want to unclench, forcing me to use my opposite hand to pry them open. He didn't comment, smart man, but his concern lived in his gaze when I met his eyes again.

Not helping. “Melted edge,” I said, hoarse from tension. “Looks like weapon fire.” Hey, I was coherent. Amazing.

“Murder,” he said, giving me the focus I needed. He knew better than to bring attention to my phobia, since it was partially his fault in the first place.

“Murder.” I wobbled past him to the commander, drained and limp and very cranky. Paused one last moment to glare at Foster, the need to vent uncontrollable. “I really hate space.” The exit door to the station’s interior beckoned, and I refused to consider myself weak for leaving Elrod to his job.

Mine had only just begun.