Working in a computer time span, it felt like it took him hours to find the data, though in real time it was less than ten minutes.

Madspark’s data was far more secure than he would have expected, with layers of defenses that seemed far above what an individual might need. Even if that individual was a murderer . . .

Much of the data had intentionally started being corrupted and overriden with nonsense as soon as his life-signs had ceased, and Urle could tell that this man was part of something bigger.

The fact that Madspark probably didn’t even know some of these safeguards existed – they were hidden from his own system – told Urle that he was far from the top layer in this chopping racket. He was a peon, to be sacrificed.

This went much deeper.

With the losses of data, he couldn’t get any hard evidence, but he could tell that there had been other murders. Madspark himself seemed to have been involved in several dozen, and he saw hints that others were involved in even more such crimes . . . Possibly hundreds or even thousands.

The augmented community weren’t fools, they were dedicated enough to their lifestyle to risk life-threatening surgeries often, throwing away what evolution had crafted over billions of years for something better – but far less proven. There was always immense risk, and data was shared on a staggering scale to mitigate that.

Scanning public records, though, he saw no evidence of strange disappearances, murders, or anything else similar. People often disappeared – but through movement or accidental deaths or any one of a thousand other reasons that did not draw suspicion. Over a billion augs lived in Gohhi, across thousands of stations, so fudging even a few thousand deaths would be doable – with enough resources.

That meant that it was being covered up by powerful people. Someone with a lot of money was acting the hyper-predator against the hardest of victims.

Extracting what data he could for later digestion from Madspark, he blanked the rest and then went into the shop’s system and erased all evidence of his and Kell’s presence, along with activating the cleaning drones to scrub their physical traces. After that, the drones would wander off and find creative ways to get themselves destroyed, taking with them the last evidence that he and Kell had ever been here.

It was a crime, what he was doing. Kell defending him had not been, but . . .

He found himself in a moral quandary. What he was doing was unethical, but this was Gohhi Station. Despite the claims, all who had experienced the place knew that law and justice existed as commodities, not concepts upon which society was built.

It hurt him to behave this way. But whoever was behind these attacks had enough power to also have made themselves invisible. They’d bury this just as easily. He’d never even get a chance for justice if they found him, nor would the murdered man.

He executed the cleaning program, then stepped out into the main shop area. Kell was standing completely erect and still at the counter, which was actually kind of reasonable, given the locking mechanical legs many augs possessed.

“Let’s go. Did anyone come in?”

“Yes,” Kell said, already heading towards the door.

Urle stopped. “What did you say?”

Kell stopped as well, looking back at him. “I informed him that the shop was closed.”

“And he believed a stranger?” Urle asked nervously.

“I appeared to him as the proprietor.”

Urle had to digest that. “What?”

Kell smiled, mockingly. “I can look how I wish. I am quite capable of fooling your kind. Even augmented ones.”

Urle hesitated, but remembered that it had been Kell who had made first contact with humanity, by simply mimicking an aide to the First Minister on Earth and walking up to him.

“All right, then . . . let’s get going.”

They left out the back, Urle scrambling the nearby sensors – all 437 of them that might capture some evidence of their presence – and then they were essentially free. Except for the footage that already existed in a server hub that would show them walking into the shop . . .

“Look, Kell, you should head back to the ship. I need to do a little more work and look into what just happened here. You don’t need to be involved in any of it-“

“I will continue with you,” Kell said. It was a statement, not a request, and Urle hesitated.

“It will be dangerous, Ambassador.”

“Yes. You nearly died, and would have if I had not been there.”

It was hard to argue with that. “All right, but you have to follow my lead – and we can’t do what you did back there, ripping a man’s head open!”

“He was already dead,” Kell noted. “He could no longer care.”

“I care, damn it. You have to promise.”

Kell took a deep breath, which Urle’s system noted did not actually use any of the available oxygen – he literally did it to show his exasperation alone. “Very well,” he said. “I will refrain from opening human skulls.”

Urle sighed as well, and logged into the station’s legal channels. “I’m going to get myself a private detective license to facilitate this-“

Kell perked up. “What is that?”

“Er, well some places allow private individuals to get special permission to perform investigations for legal purposes . . .”

“I have heard of these people,” Kell said. “I would like this license.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Kell nodded, very seriously.

“They’re expensive, I can cover it, but . . .”

“I do not use the Ex I am told is at my disposal,” Kell said. “I will compensate you later.”

Urle felt his head starting to hurt. “Fine. There. Now you have a license.”

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Kell seemed pleased, taking out a tablet that Urle did not even know he carried, and examined his new license.

Urle could not help but to ask; “How do you even know what a private detective is?”

Kell considered a moment before answering.

“Your kind are not always oblivious to the existence of Shoggoths. Some have found evidence and attempted to learn more – and met what they sought. Some of those people were detectives. I have been told of them.”

“And what happened to those detectives?”

Kell looked up at Urle, his face, as always, neutral, with only a hint of tension that suggested the seriousness of his next words.

“Few who seek out forbidden knowledge meet pleasant ends,” he said.

A feeling of dread crawled up Urle’s spine, but he then thought of the store owner, who had died, ultimately, because he’d tried to pry into Urle’s own secrets.

“I think I understand,” Urle said.

----------------------------------------

“. . .and that was when the man realized he had taken off his spacesuit,” the young Priest said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Apollonia burst into laughter, stopping a moment to wipe away a tear. “Dark, what some people do on drugs!”

“He said he did not drink or do drugs, he was simply . . . confused,” the Priest replied, more seriously.

Apollonia was not sure if he was saying it to be funny or if he genuinely believed that the man had been telling the truth.

After he had led her from the mission, they had begun to talk more – she had told him of life on New Vitriol, the funny stories of oddballs and weirdos of her wild colony home, and then he had regaled her with equally crazy tales of the red light district. Quite a few of them ended up with someone being out of their spacesuit, though they were always rather . . . creative in getting there.

The shady crowds had not bothered her nearly as much when he was there. If anything, everyone seemed to give quite a respectful distance to the young Priest of the Infinite, and it had made her feel better.

They’d been walking some time, taking a twisting route that did seem to be leading them to the spaceport. Apollonia had seen a few signs pointing the way.

And she’d found that much of her apprehension had drained away.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” she had to ask. “He was definitely drunk and on drugs.”

He considered. “I know men lie. Some lies we cling to as if a life preserver on the turgid ocean – things we need to continue living. Many men go mad in the Dark, and my faith exists to be a safe port for them. Thus I will not call him a liar when I did not see him drink, or a junkie when I did not see him with a needle. One day, when he is ready to face the lies in his heart, if he is ever strong enough, then it will be for the best if he recognizes them himself.”

“But,” Apollonia teased. “You still tell the story for a laugh!”

The young priest smiled. “Well, I’m still a flawed man myself. And it’s not often I have such pleasant company.”

Apollonia looked away, feeling awkward suddenly.

“We are, for your good and my ill, however, at the Spaceport,” he continued.

Raising an arm, he pointed towards a sign, which was lit up with the words ‘SUS CRATON‘ in bold letters.

“Oh,” Apollonia said. “I guess we are.”

He seemed to be waiting for something, and started to open his mouth to speak, but Apollonia quickly spoke first.

“Have you ever considered taking your . . . mission of the Infinite out of here?” she asked. “I mean, there are other places where people aren’t always getting drunk or high or trying to stab each other. I know these people need the help, but in other places they might be willing to listen, too.”

He looked thoughtful before he answered. “I have considered it. One day, perhaps I will – if the Infinite wills it, I will be given a sign, I am sure.”

Apollonia nodded. “Oh, right. I guess the Infinite has infinite wisdom, too,” she said, then immediately felt bad – she had not meant it mockingly, but it might have come off that way.

He did not seem like he took it badly, though. “With that, I bid you farewell,” he said, offering her a formal bow. “Go with the Infinite, Apollonia Nor.”

She couldn’t think of what to say or do except return his bow awkwardly. “And um, may the wind always be in your sails. And red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”

The young priest smiled warmly, if faintly, then turned, his hands folding in front of him, walking back the way he had come.

Apollonia watched him a moment, then called out.

“Will I ever see you again?” she yelled.

He turned, the same smile on his lips. “I will always be at the safe port,” he told her. A large group of people passed between them, and when they were past, the Priest was gone.

She hadn’t even asked his name, she realized.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she jumped.

“Apollonia!” It was Jaya. “Oh thank the stars. I thought you were lost!”

Turning, Apollonia saw that Jaya had a couple bruises, but looked otherwise no worse for the wear.

“Jaya! I’m glad you’re okay . . .”

The woman smiled. “On the contrary, I think it was probably good for me.” Her face turned serious. “Though you should not tell anyone I said that.”

Apollonia felt almost light, her mood was so good. “I should have known you’d kick their asses.”

“We are lucky they decided to throw the first punch,” Jaya said, trying to hide her smile. “Though I was mortified that you nearly got hurt.”

“Why did it matter who punched first?”

“On Gohhi, fault resides with whoever launches the first attack,” Jaya said. “So no one wants to be the first to throw a punch.”

She gestured towards the dock to the Craton, where Apollonia now saw the Response officers from the bar, talking to a few other fresh Response officers from the ship. A group of Gohhi’s private security guards were walking away, their uniforms ranging from frumpy to ostentatious depending on the company they worked for. One annoyed-looking official was with them, though he did not look so upset it was worrying.

“No one is hurt?” Apollonia asked.

“Fortunately not seriously – on either side. Though once that one drunk’s jaw sets I hope he will be more circumspect with how he addresses people who disagree with him.”

Jaya headed towards the security station, where Apollonia expected some grilling. But the officers only gave her a scan check and asked if she had any injuries.

“I’ve got a hangover,” she admitted. A dull ache had been forming at the back of her head for awhile, though it hadn’t yet broken her happy mood.

“That’s all?” the officer asked.

“Yeah. I drank a lot, I guess.”

The officer opened his mouth, but then paused, his eyes going to the side as he got a message. “Dr. Y suggests you come down to his office – he would be glad to help you.”

“That sounds good,” Apollonia murmured, heading inside where Jaya was waiting.

“I’m heading to Y’s as well,” Jaya said with a sigh. “He is the doctor on duty and I don’t wish these bruises to fester. I suppose he wishes to chew me out as well.”

“Wait, you?” Apolloni asked.

“Oh, yes. I outrank him, but he . . . well, you know how Y is. I have seen him dress-down admirals for mistakes while never breaking decorum. It is simply his way with words.”

Apollonia laughed again. “Yeah . . . I know just what you mean.”

Neither of them really wanted to hurry – Jaya to avoid Y, and Apollonia because she was suddenly remembering something.

“We didn’t even talk about my letter,” she said, her happiness disappearing in a heartbeat. Replaced by misery.

“Have you been considering it this evening?” Jaya asked.

“I hadn’t really thought about it since you invited me . . . I’ve been doing research on Squat’s on Sand’s people like you suggested . . . Abmon are so different from us. I don’t even know where to begin with what to say. I mean, he doesn’t have a mother and father, just . . . some pod who laid him as an egg and never knew him. He left before his siblings grew up, so even they didn’t know him. Who do I even address the letter to?”

“His people,” Jaya said. “Just because his blood relatives did not know him does not mean they do not wish to know. And he had peers, friends, of his own age who would know him. They are different, yes, but there are similarities between all beings. The trick is just finding out what they are.”

“What do we have in common?” Apollonia asked, her mouth twisting.

“You knew him,” Jaya said. “Perhaps you can tell me?”

Apollonia blinked, surprised.

“As for what I know,” Jaya continued. “He was a very stubborn being, who wanted to help no matter the cost – though you know that.

“I also know that Golgutt is a much warmer world than Earth, so he was always cold. But aside from warming his room, he accepted it and never complained. In fact, he sought out a transfer to a human ship because he wanted to get to know other species. He came knowing he’d be miserable, because it was worth it to him.”

“I never knew he was cold,” Apollonia said. She found herself thinking back on the time she’d known him. It had been brief, but something about the being had made her feel a level of comfort – like she had known him for far longer. He had almost immediately become like a fixture to her, as much as Y or Jaya or, in his own way, Brooks.

Jaya stopped, and Apollonia snapped out of her thoughts as the woman looked at her.

“So my thought is – tell him as you know him. His family who were robbed of their chance to know him will be pleased to learn a little more. And his friends, they will know precisely what you mean, and their memories of him will be a little sweeter for knowing that he was himself, to the very end.”