It was a long ride up the spine to the halls of Valhalla, where the immortals lived. Harry was quiet for most of it. The center spine of Valhalla had no gravity, so they had their boot magnets turned on, their arms floating languidly at their sides.
“Been up here before?” Maddox asked.
Harry realized he had been fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and stopped. “No. Never. Not a lot of murders up there.”
Maddox uttered a polite chuckle as if Harry had said something that was supposed to be funny but wasn’t. “No, I suppose not.”
Access was severely restricted. Harry had to insert his security ID card into a slot in the lift so that the ride would continue all the way to the top. Not that there was really a top, or a bottom for that matter, since there was no up or down in space. But he decided not to think about the implications too hard. He had enough on his blotter right now.
Maddox, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the ride. He had a boyish fascination with everything he encountered aboard the station, the kind of childish sense of wonder that only people who didn’t grow up in space possessed. Harry resented him for it.
“Ever seen one?” Maddox asked, breaking the silence once again. “One of them?”
“Couple of times, yeah.” It was a strange question, but he knew why Maddox asked it. The immortals had a certain mystique about them. But physically they weren’t that different from anyone else.
At last the lift stopped and the doors opened onto pure opulence. Maddox exited the lift first, reaching out to grab the edge of the lift to counteract the jarring effect of going suddenly from zero-g to spin gravity. Harry followed him out, bemused, his stomach twisting slightly toward the direction of spin as he toed off his boot magnets. There were plants all over Valhalla, but these were obviously picked purely for their aesthetic value, and not because they were good at scrubbing carbon dioxide from the air or removing heavy metals. When you were this rich you got to pretend you weren’t even living in space.
Maddox looked around, uttering an impressed whistle. “This is nothing like down spine at all.”
Harry gave a quick nod. The rookie had every right to be impressed. They emerged from the lift into another world. The walls were made of some pale opalescent material inset with panels of polished bamboo. Various plants dotted the corridor at intervals, some showing off lavish splashes of color. Tall, spindly ferns and palms were on display too, each one curving slightly in the direction of Coriolis. Harry led Maddox to the right, their boots sinking a quarter of an inch into a thick, burgundy pile carpeting. Maddox was moving with a heavy foot up the corridor.
“Turn off your boot mags,” Harry said.
“Oh right. Sorry.”
A team of three men and one woman came around the curved corner ahead of them at a rapid clip. They were wearing blue med tech uniforms and carried various bits of lifesaving equipment. They barely acknowledged the detectives as they passed, and Harry and Maddox had to step out of their way for fear of being ran over.
“What’s going on?” Maddox asked. “Medical emergency?”
“No. That was the resurrection squad. One of the old duffers must have coded.”
Maddox turned to him, a question on his face.
“Died. Popped their clogs. Shuffled off this mortal coil?”
“Oh,” said Maddox with a frown.
“They’re going to restore whoever it is from a backup. Stick them in a force-grown clone. In two hours they’ll be good as new. Like nothing ever happened, save for maybe a little missing time, depending on when they last backed up. See, nobody dies up here. Not really.”
“Must be nice,” said Maddox with a shrug.
“I think it’s boring as hell.”
They continued onward to their destination.
“But Honey was one of them, right?” Maddox said. “Why didn’t she have a backup?”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe she thought it sounds as boring as I do.”
He stopped at a white door with the numbers 193 stenciled on it neatly. He put his thumb to the security plate next to the door and made sure his Cerberus badge, with its three-headed dog emblem, was clearly visible in the camera set into the door above the apartment number.
“Listen,” said Harry. “I’ve dealt with these people before, so just follow my lead and let me do all the talking, OK?”
Maddox gave a noncommittal shrug. “You’re the point on this, and I’m just the rookie. Lead away.”
The door unsealed and opened. A golden servitor drone stood before them, looking shiny and officious. “Hello, detectives,” it said in a crisp, unaccented voice. “How may I be of service?”
Any servitors aboard Valhalla were programmed to obey Cerberus employees by default. It was part of the security contract the company had with the station. Harry introduced them and stated why they were there.
“We need to speak with the lady of the house,” Harry said. “It’s about her great-great-great grand daughter.”
The servitor slumped somewhat, feinting sadness. “Yes. Very tragic. Please come in, and I will see if the lady is receiving visitors at this sad time.”
With a whir of servos the robot turned and rolled away.
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“At least they’ve heard the news,” Maddox muttered. “I hate telling someone their loved one has died.”
“I don’t think there’s a single person on Valhalla who doesn’t know about it,” Harry said.
If the outside corridor was functional opulence, the apartment of Honey’s several times great grandmother was pure ostentation. Every fixture seemed to be designed for maximum shock value. Maddox stared down at the floor, which displayed parsecs of star-dotted empty space. It was as if the entire floor were made of some ultra thin, transparent material.
“It’s OK,” said Harry with a chuckle. It’s a bunch of tiny screens displaying a single image. The effect is jarring though, I’ll give you that.”
“Uh, right.” Maddox took a couple of hesitant steps before continuing to stand and walk as normal.
“These old duffers like to show off,” Harry explained in a whisper. “They like messing with people. Best to not give them the satisfaction. Act like you see this kind of thing all the time. Really takes the wind out of them.”
“You don’t like them very much.”
“It’s not a question of like or dislike. Their money pays our bills. It’s just…just follow my lead.”
“You’re the boss, boss.”
A few minutes later, the servitor returned to offer them refreshments. When they declined it disappeared again. A few minutes after that, when it felt less like she was making an appearance because they said so and more like she was doing them a favor, the lady of the house appeared.
“Mrs. Minerva Sisko-Gomez, I presume?” said Harry.
“It’s Mizz,” she spat, rolling her eyes. “What can I do for you, detectives?”
Mizz Minerva Sisko-Gomez entered the room with a flourish, as if she were expecting a retinue of her closest acquaintances at some grand social function of the kind the immortals were always having to hold off their eternal boredom. She wore a voluminous crimson gown bound in enough crinoline to extend from there halfway down the spine to the hydroponics level. The effect made it seem as if she were floating inches off the floor and not moving her legs at all.
Her skin was the baby pink that came from way too many de Gray treatments, even though her skin was wrinkled and ancient. A halo of silver hair encircled her head like the atmosphere of an uninhabitable planet, her too-full lips painted with a lurid smear of red that contrasted hotly with the color of her fancy gown. In her ears were a pair of enormous multi-carat hyperdiamonds that easily cost more than five times Harry’s and Maddox’s yearly salaries combined.
“We’re here about your grand daughter,” said Harry. “Honey.”
“Yes,” she said, throwing her head back and giving a derisive sniff. She dabbed at her eyes with a silken handkerchief she conjured from the puffy folds of her gown, but her eyes weren’t wet. “So terrible. So tragic. But I’m sorry, detectives. I’m afraid I know nothing. My grand daughter was lost to me a long time ago. She could have remained here, safe and happy, her consciousness backed up regularly. But she chose to cast her lot with…with…well, you know.”
She made a scattering motion at Harry and his partner.
“Of course,” said Harry. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”
Minerva Sisko-Gomez made a show of trying to remember, lifting her head to the vaulted, mother-of-pearl ceiling and tapping her chin with a black-lacquered fingernail. “Oh, it’s been years. I tried to reach out a few times, of course, but she didn’t want to speak with me. She preferred…well, you know.” That scattering motion at them again, a look of mild disgust curving the wrinkles on her face in a new direction.
“We were just wondering if she had any enemies. Perhaps from her old life?”
Minerva barked scoffing laughter. “No, Detective Gleason. And I resent your implication!”
“We just need to follow every possibility.”
“Well follow it somewhere else! You know what she did for a living. Someone down there must’ve…” her voice trailed off, and she shook with barely controlled rage.
“I meant no disrespect,” Harry said, hoping that would placate the old bat.
Minerva heaved a heavy sigh, which seemed to release her tension and she deflated somewhat, like a pompous balloon. “Oh, it is all right, Detective. The truth is, that girl has been trouble since the day she was born. Her mother was killed in a hull breach aboard a starship when Honey was very young. Her father, Oberon, didn’t know what to do with her. He completely uploaded when Honey was a toddler. Last I heard he’s piloting a cloud of comet miners in a neighboring system, if you can believe that. But when you have forty-five grandchildren, thirty great-grandchildren, and twenty-three great-great-grandchildren, you’re bound to have a few duds.”
Maddox’s eyes bugged at that, but he said nothing.
“When was the last time Honey made a backup?”
Minerva sniffed. “I don’t know. It’s been years. One day she just up and decided that she was never doing it again. She said it was unfair that we get to go on while so many others have to suffer and die. Can you believe that? She took everything she was given and just shot it out of an airlock.”
She twirled away from them, creating a ripple effect in the acre of chiffon that undulated around her wildly. “Now if you will excuse me, I am in mourning.” She threw her head back as she said this, placing the back of her left hand flat against her high forehead.
Harry nudged Maddox in the shoulder. “Thank you for your time, Ma’am. Sorry for your loss.”
The detective spun on his heels and exited, leaving a lot faster than he had entered. His rookie partner was close behind.
“That was…something,” said Maddox, leaning against a section of polished bamboo.
“I told ya,” said Harry. “These immortals can be real pieces of work.”
They started walking toward the lift.
“So what do you think?” Maddox asked when they had reached an appropriate distance from the spinster’s apartment.
“I think what I thought yesterday, that these richies are a bunch of assholes. I also think Mizz Minerva didn’t like her great-whatever grand daughter very much.”
“You think she had something to do with it?”
Harry scowled. “Old bitch would have broken a nail.”
“She could have paid someone.”
Harry stopped in front of the lift. “What’s your motive?”
Maddox shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s the oldest motive in the world? Money? Maybe Honey was hitting the old bag up for a loan. Or maybe the hag wanted her to come back to the lap of luxury. Return to the fold, or else.”
Harry pressed the button for the lift and stared down at his boots. “I don’t like her for this, but it should be easy enough to cross her off the suspect list.”
“Com logs,” said Maddox. “And financials.”
“Check her coms for sure,” Harry said. “Financials would take a forensic accountant AI to untangle. These immortals have shell companies for their shell companies. Financials are a mess.”
“How’d she make her nut anyway?” Maddox asked as the lift doors slid open.
“Asteroid mining, I think. A full rejuv and compound interest did the rest.”
They toed on their boot magnets before they stepped inside.
“We might not be able to figure out if she hired someone, but we can check the station visitor logs for known hired thugs.”
Maddox’s eyes widened. “They wouldn’t be dumb enough to stick around, would they?”
Harry tilted his head in thought. “You never know. We might get lucky. Buy me a drink after work and I’ll tell you about this one time—”
“Oh the long, boring stories you must have,” Maddox interrupted, a sly grin smeared across his face.
Harry held up a finger as if he was disciplining a child. “Now listen here, rookie. You would do well to heed my words of wisdom. It just might save your life someday.”
The lift slowed to a stop and opened onto pure chaos. They were on the commerce level, which held various shops, restaurants, and bars. It was normally crowded, but this was the most people Harry had ever seen on Valhalla in one place. Everyone was yelling, pushing, shouting at each other.
“What was that about getting lucky?” said Maddox. “I think our luck just ran out.”