All I could see was stars. That's what people say, right, about head trauma?

Except in my case, it was a supernova explosion as my mod was still on. I fell to my knees, gripping my head, unable to move even though every nerve in my body was screaming for me to move. This could be anything, anyone. I had no idea. I could be about to be mugged, or worse.

Instead, I heard a gravelly voice grumble, "Pathetic." The syllables ground into my modded ears like falling boulders. I was hauled to my feet, but I still couldn't actually find them, so I hung there like a coat on a coat hanger as the face in front of me eventually resolved into high res, grainy-pored visibility.

Teg Korr.

"You were following me yesterday. Why?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and instead, blood came spluttering out of my mouth and onto his fine blue suit.

He recoiled from me at first, with an odd high shriek. Echoing endlessly through the sore chamber of my skull, I heard laughter. Cronies. He had cronies. And they were laughing at him.

So of course, he had to do something violent to counteract how embarrassing his little shriek had been.

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground again, head ringing from his slap. My skin felt torn; he'd been wearing a ring of some sort which had cut me on the cheek.

All I managed to do was cough up some more blood.

"What did you hit her with?" Korr growled at one of his companions. "I said I wanted to talk to her, not kill her, you idiot."

"It was just my normal kosh, skipper! I've never seen someone go down this hard before." Well, at least they hadn't drawn what I would have considered the obvious conclusion. The way I'd gone down, the coughing up blood: they'd only been able to take me out so dramatically because I'd had my perception mod switched on at the time. The fewer people who knew about those, the better.

"Come on, pick her up and get her inside. I don't need stat sec on my case before I've had a chance to chat with our little friend here."

No no no no no -

"Gentlemen?" The voice was like a glacial wind coming down a mountain, chilling and familiar. I'd never heard something so beautiful.

"You again?" Korr growled.

"Unhand that young woman, or I shall be forced to take action."

"I've been wanting to find you again, you slippery bastard -"

The sound of something hard hitting something meaty slapped wetly in my head, only to be lost as I coughed again. I rolled over with a groan, and managed to get my fingers up behind my ear to turn the mod off. My mouth tasted of copper and regret. All I could do for the moment was lie there and gather my breath, taking account of my teeth. All still there. None knocked out or loose. Small mercies.

The meaty sounds changed to footsteps pounding away, each stomp banging into my headachey skull like I was being hit by the kosh again. Then I felt, more than heard, lighter footsteps coming my way. Someone - Nadir - knelt by me. I only knew it was him because I'd heard his voice, innocuous, unassuming, two times before this. I couldn't open my eyes to see him, but I knew.

"Get up, Amaryllis. If you can make it fifty metres in the direction you're currently facing, your door will be to the left. Xen can help you. Closer than the free hospital. And I know you'd prefer your privacy."

"H-?" I tried to speak, but already I felt the pressure changing on the floor, and Nadir's presence was gone.

I crawled in the direction he'd indicated, struggling to piece together the new information I'd just gleaned through the mince-grinder of a migraine developing in my head.

Nadir knew who I was. Well, no. He knew my whole first name, so he either didn't know my nickname, or didn't feel comfortable using it. Black Rose's personal manservant knew me, and she was at least aware of my existence too.

He was helping me. This was the third time his presence in my vicinity had been to my benefit. Was this help coming from Black Rose, or him? Was there any real distinction between the two? After all, she'd sent me a personal note, and money. I'd wondered if she did that for everyone, or only a few.

Or maybe just me.

I should have asked around about this, but I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. I would have to come up with a clever way of getting the info I needed without just bragging around the station about receiving special treatment from Black Rose.

Nadir also knew that I was the private type, that I'd prefer to lick my wounds alone. How did he know that? Maybe old friends and colleagues on Gerondia told him. It wouldn't be too hard to learn about me. But why?

And he knew Xen was still alive.

Had that been why Black Rose had toasted Xen's death? Did she know we'd faked it? She had to know, if Nadir knew.

I would have to find out more about my mysterious benefactors. But if they were this good at knowing everything about me, I'd have to be subtle, not just go blundering around searching on public archives.

I paused when I found the wall. A moment to catch my breath, then I clawed my way along the wall, unsure how many more of those fifty metres I still had to clear.

So, Teg Korr hadn't just lawyered up. He'd buddied up too, gotten himself some goons. And he knew I was involved. This was bad.

Maybe I could get Xen off the station somehow, until he was gone? I didn't have any contacts yet who could forge the necessary documents, but those sorts of people always existed, no matter where in the galaxy you were. There were ways to get such information.

And hey, if I needed to break into Frod's computer anyway to look up M.A. Excelsa, that would be the perfect place to identify some of the forgers around the station. The known ones, anyway. But they might be able to point me in the direction of ones who hadn't been caught yet.

"Sophora!" came a voice I was less keen on hearing.

As Frod pulled me from the wall to get a look at me, I managed to mumble, "I've told you, Constable, the name's Marys." I could only see his silhouette, and even then, it was wavering in the blinding lights of the ceiling.

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"What happened?"

"Teg Korr happened. I want to press charges. Your cameras should have caught the attack, I imagine."

He lifted me to my feet and threaded his arm under my armpits. "Come on, let's get you to the free hospital."

"No, not there," I muttered. I knew all about those places. Run by do-gooder Terrans. "You and I both know that while they don't charge you money, the Terrans never give anything away for free."

I wish I had been able to see properly at that moment, instead of everything being shrouded with auras, because I'm pretty sure I managed to get Frod to smile. "Hmph, you're right there."

"You must have some first aid at stat sec."

"That we do. Come on."

We shambled along lopsidedly. It was all I could do to just keep my feet moving. I left the Constable in charge of speed and direction. The ever-crowded Atrium opened before my ears, with its constant murmur of hundreds of voices at once. Then we passed through a large sliding door, into the quiet hum of the stat sec waiting room, then through the paper-shuffling of the cubicles. From direction only, I understood that he was taking me straight to his office.

"Here, sit. I'll fetch the first aid kit."

I sunk into the vinyl of the chair and took a few deep breaths. All right, Marys, now's your chance. I wouldn't have to break into Frod's office at all. I was right here, and if I played my cards right, I could get the information I needed before I even left the room.

Frod returned, and handed me the handle of a dispenser. "There, painkillers to start you off. You look a mess, Sophora."

I sprayed the medication into my mouth, and blindly held the dispenser out for him to take. He replaced it with a wet cloth, which I buried my face in for a good half a minute before I surfaced. My head cleared by degrees, afterimages diminishing. When they faded to blackness, I opened my eyes.

I could see again.

"Mirror's over there, if you want to treat your cuts." He pointed over at one wall, where a small mirror hung, presumably so he could check his uniform was spic and span before he left each day. Or comb those whiskers before he went on patrol, I don't know.

I picked out an antiseptic cream and some sticky bandages, then went over to the mirror to apply them. The cream stung, and after the over-sensitivity of my mod, it made my whole body freeze up and my skin crawl with the shock of it. "So, Korr," I began.

"It was definitely him?"

"I caught a few glimpses. But your security footage will confirm it, of course. Can you put him away for this?"

"For a time, probably. I can't promise it will be all that long. That lawyer of his is damned good."

"Guy's trouble."

"Don't I know it. He may not have murdered Xen, but he as good as pushed Xen off that balcony."

I turned and stared hard at Frod. "My, my, Constable, haven't we jumped to conclusions? The right ones, but still..."

"Help me nail the bastard, Sophora."

I paused in applying the sticky plaster to my cheek, and met Frod's beady eyes in the reflection. "I'll... try. For Xen's sake. Are there any... avenues of the Korr investigation you have been blocked from pursuing, as an upstanding leader of stat sec? Something that would be better suited to someone with more ambivalence towards upholding your lawful standards?"

Frod sneered, then pursed his lips. "The Lawyer. Masare Jebon. He's been a pain in my neck for many years now. Him and his friends. Korr seems to have allied himself with them for his protection."

"Friends?"

Frod folded his arms and leaned against his desk, looking at me through narrowed eyes. Finally, he answered, "Look into the Wilt, Sophora."

"The Wilt?"

"You heard me. Now, while you are finishing up there, I'll just go get the security footage. Stay here. We'll review it when I return, and then hopefully we can issue that arrest warrant."

He left the room. I slumped in my chair in front of his desk, and wrestled with the indecision of the moment.

This was going to hurt. But it was the best way of getting the information before he returned from the camera archive. I didn't have the luxury of time. But damn, this was really, really going to hurt.

Putting the damp cloth in my mouth, I activated my data collector mod. The connector came bursting out of my palm. I bit into the cloth as I yelled with the pain, and kept biting down at the sick sensation of the cord extending out of my wrist.

Like a little snake of a limb, at my command, it whipped across the desk. I plugged the connector into the back of Frod's digipad which he'd left behind. I suppose he thought a password or fingerprints would protect his data. He would be wrong. This mod was cheap and nasty, but extremely effective. I didn't have to touch the cord and connector to control them, but it meant that every little sway of the mod prickled the skin around the orifice on my palm. Just thinking about it made me want to throw up, so I tried to ignore it and focus on getting the data instead.

There wasn't enough time to copy everything, so I prioritised the data I was fishing for, hoping the psychic link with my collector mod hadn't degraded with disuse. First order: M. A. Excelsa. Her business file, but also anything else Frod had on the woman under that name. Second order, L. A. Helianthe and V. M. Disanthus, just in case. Third order, any known forgers on the station. Fourth order, Masare Jebon. And finally, anything he had on 'the Wilt'.

I heard his footsteps a second before he entered. I snapped my connector free and yanked the cord back under my skin. The cloth came spitting out of my mouth as I retched with the awful sensation. I squished my palm to my stomach and rocked back and forth.

"Are you all right?"

There was blood on the desk where my hand had laid. He pointed to it, and clicked his tongue.

"Yeah, just... I didn't see this scratch on my hand from the fight, and then I accidentally opened it up on the corner of the first aid kit."

"Well, bandage it up, Sophora. And rest assured: the cameras caught your assault. His crony must have gotten lucky. It didn't look like that bad a hit, but you went down instantly. I have enough to pull all three of them in on charges. Maybe even attempted murder, given the severity of the attack." He licked his lips at that.

"Great. Thanks, Constable."

"You take care now, Sophora. You know where I am if you need to update me."

---

I stumbled home, worried about meeting with misfortune again. It probably took me twice as long, with the way I was listening out and looking around corners. But eventually I made it to my office, where Xen dropped the duster Xen was holding and rushed over to me.

"Marys, what happened?"

"Your bastard of a former owner and his friends beat me up. It's all right though, Frod caught the whole thing on camera. They're being arrested as we speak." I rushed past Xen to get to my desk, to my waiting digipad.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Fine. There's more important things on my mind now anyway." I glanced up at Xen. "Er... maybe don't look."

"Why?" Xen glanced at my open palm with the crusted blood on it, and twigged immediately. "Oh, Marys... tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Fine, I won't tell you." With a yelp, I shot out the end of the connector, and jabbed it into the digipad. I breathed through the pain while the data I'd pilfered transferred over. Xen shook Xen's head while watching me, but said nothing.

With a bleep, the transfer completed. I grunted as I shot the connector back under my skin, then clutched my bleeding palm on the stomach of my already bloodstained coat. "Let's see... M. A. Excelsa, M. A. Excelsa... business record... ah! There she is. Let's see what Lisia Astrantia Helianthe was up to when she arrived on this station a quarter century ago..."

Xen came to look over my shoulder as I scanned the document. A Gerondian import goods business, yes, that all made a certain amount of sense. Nothing alarming came up around any of that part of the form. An address given on the station, the fake name expanded out to Monarda Aracea Excelsa - that was cause to jump again. All of those were family names. My family's names. Monarda was my great-great-grandmother. Aracea was my mother. This was getting way too coincidental.

And then I reached the address of M. A. Excelsa's export agent on Gerondia.

S. E. Monarda, 42 Picea Heights Road, Quercus, Ligustrum, Gerondia.

Sophora Excelsa Monarda.

Those were not just family names anymore. That was family.

My grandmother.