Getting into EmSolo was easy. They had an office on Centerpoint, and all Kamak had to do was ask for a meeting with Et-Fe, which she eagerly accepted. Apparently Kamak had something she wanted. What exactly that was remained to be seen.

The too-easy access got its first wrinkle when Kamak and crew were led into a room with nothing but a wide screen on one wall. Kamak took a quick look around and found only five chairs.

“Can’t help but notice there’s nowhere for Et-Fe to sit.”

“Savant Lithrette is currently in her office on Pespartes,” their office guide said. “If you would like a face to face meeting, Savants Virooo and Larakt are onsite.”

“When you told me Savant Lithrette was ‘in’, I assumed you meant ‘in the building’,” Kamak said.

“EmSolo Aerodynamics prides itself on a versatile telework environment,” the office guide said, voice brimming with the false cheer of a rehearsed corporate mantra.

“Great,” Kamak said. He pointed at the screen. “So is this thing just a public line, then?”

“It’s a secured connection used only for confidential communication between Savants -and their privileged clients, of course,” the office guide said.

“People keep saying things are secure,” Doprel said. “And then people keep getting stabbed.”

“I assure you it’s-”

“Save us the sales pitch,” Kamak said. “Just get out of here and get Et-Fe on the line.”

The guide bowed their head and exited the room. The crew took their seats and waited as the room darkened and a screen flickered on. Corey felt kind of like he was in a movie theater, a feeling that was only enhanced when Et-Fe herself appeared on screen. She had movie star looks, and Corey meant that as both a compliment and an insult. She was impossibly gorgeous, clad in one of the most luxurious gowns Corey had ever seen, and she was polished and manicured to the point her silver skin literally sparkled. She was perfect, too perfect. Her beauty felt manufactured and sterile.

“Kamak,” Et-Fe said. Her sterile beauty went right down the practiced sultry tone of her voice. “I was hoping you’d call sooner. Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

“Cool it on the seduction, Et-Fe, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Kamak said. “I’m not here to flirt, I’m here to accuse you of murder.”

That broke Et-Fe’s practiced poise in a second, and she sat up straight to lean on her desk.

“Excuse me?”

“Not formally, of course,” Kamak said.

“We’ve noticed an overlap in the killers goals and methods that happens to align with the economic interests of EmSolo Aerodynamics, and with the resources available to you,” Farsus said. “Enough to be suspicious, at least.”

“You can’t be serious,” Et-Fe said. “You think my company would sponsor a serial killer?”

“Yes,” Kamak said, with no hesitation. The things he’d done for Timeka would qualify him as a serial killer by many definitions, and EmSolo was no different as a company. “You want to convince us otherwise, here’s your chance.”

“Or what?” Et-Fe said, as her polished face wrinkled into a scowl. “I have nothing to hide. Baseless accusations will get you nowhere.”

“But they’ll get you somewhere,” Doprel said.

“In the red, specifically,” Kamak said. “Only takes one bad headline to tank your company’s profits for the next year or so. And that’s assuming that an investigation doesn’t turn up anything else you might not want people to know about.”

“You really are one of Timeka’s dogs,” Et-Fe said with a scowl.

“I’m my own dog nowadays,” Kamak said. “But I still know how to bite. Now, you want to answer questions or keep drawing this out?”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t just hand over EmSolo secrets to-”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“We could not be less interested in your corporate warfare nonsense,” Kamak said. “We want to know about genetic engineering. Specifically, cosmetic engineering, like you do.”

Et-Fe looked down at her silver skin, and then turned back to the crew with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you thinking about murders or a makeover, Kamak?”

“Still murders,” Kamak said. “There’s only a dozen or so clinics specializing in that stuff in the entire universe, and none of them are forthcoming with their methods.”

They’d done some basic research on cosmetic engineering, but could not find much more than advertisements and lofty price tags. Considering the small size of the field, they had opted for an indirect investigation -with only a few hundred specialists in the universe, it was entirely possible the culprit worked with or was otherwise connected to any possible expert they could ask. That left them to ask secondary sources like Et-Fe.

“All this to talk about skin color,” Et-Fe grunted.

“Truth be told, I also wanted to annoy you,” Kamak said. He was done playing corporate dog, and he liked to make that clear to them at every available opportunity. From the look on Et-Fe’s face, he guessed his tactic had worked.

“Fine. It’s not exactly an elaborate procedure, just time-consuming,” Et-Fe said. “It’s a two-part process. First they take a tissue sample to analyze your DNA, then inject you with a preliminary cocktail that puts your genes in a mutable state. It takes several swaps to work, time they spend analyzing your genome and identifying what needs to change to get the desired results. Then, once enough time has passed, the followup appointment introduces a mutagen that changes the DNA to the desired state.”

“Do you have to repeat the first step every time, or does your DNA stay mutable?”

“The effects linger for a month or two, but they don’t advise doing multiple procedures in a small window of time,” Et-Fe said.

“Why?” Tooley said. “Side effects?”

“Beyond the obvious risk of cancer?” Et-Fe said. “A few. Change your DNA too much and you risk it ‘forgetting’ how to do its job normally. The body starts to fall apart, organs fail, that kind of thing. Not to mention the risk of aberromorphic psychosis.”

“I feel like you should’ve maybe led with the thing called ‘aberromorphic psychosis’,” Kamak said.

“Truth be told, I wanted to annoy you,” Et-Fe said. Kamak let that jab pass without comment. “It’s an extreme form of bodily dysmorphia. The brain knows how its body is supposed to be shaped, and basic neural processes are built around bodily structure. Minor changes, or slow procedures like gender dysphoria treatments, don’t cause any side effects, but the bigger the changes you make and the faster you make them, the worse it gets. If the body’s shape starts rapidly and broadly changing without giving the brain time to adapt, it compounds into a neurosis. Disorientation, paranoia, hallucinations -and that’s the mild cases.”

Kamak and Farsus exchanged a nervous glance. If Corey’s hunch was correct, and their Butcher really was altering their DNA rapidly, that meant they might be getting crazier by the day.

“Back to the actual procedure,” Corey said. “How long does it take for the changes to manifest after the second half of the process?”

“Depends on the changes,” Et-Fe said. She held out a shivering silver arm. “Skin color like this? Only takes a few cycles for dead skin to start shedding and getting replaced. Changes to facial structure, height, the other bigger processes? Weeks, if not months.”

Corey tried not to let his frustration show on his face. There were gaps between attacks, but none as long as that. Farsus picked up on his frustration and carried the thread on his behalf. There was still one lingering question about the genetic modification theory.

“What about duplication?” Farsus asked. “If one wanted to look like someone else, even have their DNA, would that be possible?”

“Look like them? Yes,” Et-Fe said. “To have an exact copy of their DNA? Absolutely not. You can change surface level traits, a handful of internal structures like bone structure or density, but an overhaul that complete? Your genetic structure would fall apart, your body would forget how to assemble itself. In a matter of cycles you’d be so overgrown with tumors your skeleton would separate and your skin would tear open.”

“Thank you for making that nice and visceral, because I haven’t spent enough time dwelling on mutilated corpses,” Kamak said.

“You’re welcome,” Et-Fe said. “Now, if you’re-”

Et-Fe looked up and away from the screen suddenly, and the crew felt a brief moment of fear, but Et-Fe did not seem alarmed.

“Alvrit, this is supposed to be secure,” Et-Fe said.

“I know, but look at this,” the apparent Alvrit said, from off-screen. He wandered across the desk and held up a datapad. Alvrit looked a lot like Et-Fe, but for the fact that his skin was a dull tan, not much different than Corey’s own skin tone. Alvrit and Et-Fe examined whatever was on the screen together, ignoring Kamak and the crew as they read. Corey looked to Kamak, who only shook his head. They’d let it play out, for now. After close to a drop of delay, Et-Fe dismissed Alvrit and looked back to the camera with a smile.

“Well, I hope you all got what you wanted,” Et-Fe said. “We’re done here.”

“That seems sudden,” Kamak said.

It only got more sudden when Et-Fe hung up without another word. Kamak looked at the black screen for a few ticks before moving on.

“What just happened?”

“We lost our leverage,” Farsus said. He whipped out his datapad and started searching through the news. Thankfully, an update was not hard to find, and he read the headline aloud. “Police on Aumaris have arrested a suspect in the Bad Luck Butcher killings.”

Kamak spun to face Farsus. That certainly explained Et-Fe’s sudden exit. If another suspect was already grabbing headlines, that removed all pressure from her.

“Is that it? Do they say who they arrested?”

Farsus held up a hand for them all to wait as he scrolled through the article. His brow furrowed with concern as he read the final words.

“The suspect has been identified as a longtime bounty hunter,” Farsus said. “By the name of Bevo.”