After a few minutes, the trio reached the security checkpoint; a set of biometric and communicator scanners guarded by a pair of armed guards. Guns were strictly controlled aboard the Fleet, and only authorized personnel were allowed to carry ballistic weaponry. Merrion reflexively tensed up upon seeing the firearm, even though she herself had been trained in their use in the academy.
The armed guards saluted the trio as they passed through the scanners. The larger of the two, who appeared to be the more senior guard, greeted them on behalf of his junior.
Guards: "Morning, sirs. And you too, ma'am."
Edmund: "Morning Anton. Morning Vikram."
Merrion: "Good morning."
Jeyga: "Want a potted plant for your guard post?"
Ignoring Jeyga's unsolicited furnishing offer, the larger guard, Anton, continued to talk while his smaller and quieter counterpart merely returned to his watchful repose.
Anton: "Thank you for the thought, Specialist. Unfortunately, the Chief of Security will have our heads if we accept, so I'm afraid we'll have to decline."
Edmund: "If anything comes up, you can just transfer to General Investigations. We're eternally short-staffed after all. Inspector Zora will be glad to have more warm bodies to throw at cases."
Edmund contributed to the conversation with a spontaneous sarcastic jab at his department's current manpower shortage.
Anton: "And be stuck as a fieldwork operative for decades? Don't get me wrong, Sir, I'm not saying there's anything bad about the work you do. But personally, I'd like a chance for career advancement if I had the stomach to be part of the FID."
Edmund: "There is a subtle joy in fieldwork, guardsman. And if you join us, I'll even personally mentor you."
Anton: "That demented grin of yours isn't doing you any favors, sir. And besides – " Anton turned his head ever so slightly to look at Merrion, who was subtly glaring at Edmund.
Anton: "– I think your colleague over here wouldn't approve of that."
Edmund: "Suit yourself, guardsman. That's why you're here watching the gates."
Anton: "It's more comfortable and predictable here. Have a good day, sirs and ma'am."
Edmund: "Yup, you too."
Jeyga: "Hey, the potted plant is always available! Just drop me a message if the Chief changes his mind!"
As they left the security checkpoint behind and entered the main corridors of the Doyle, Edmund thought about what the guard had said to him.
Edmund (thinking): Stuck as a fieldwork operative, huh?
Sure, he had said that in jest, but there was an element of truth in that. The Department of General Investigations was chronically understaffed. The recruits who joined the FID often headed to the specialized departments, where they got to handle flashier and more notorious cases and investigations, before reaching a more comfortable office-based posting.
However, that wasn't how the department of General Investigation worked. Part of the reason that they were chronically understaffed was that most senior detectives were often sent to deep cover investigations, where they would be away from support or contact for months, if not years. Furthermore, the personnel who joined up with General Investigations were unique individuals. Going through the Academy or having a specific accreditation to your name wasn't a requirement for signing up with General Investigations, but as a result career advancement wasn't predictable, or even guaranteed. Although he was very good at his job, the small size of his department meant that basically everyone in General Investigations had drastically understated ranks versus their responsibilities.
---
Unlike the Agnes, the Doyle was a smaller vessel, with a fraction of the internal volume of the Agnes. Gravity in the Doyle didn't need to be maintained at the standard level, and only a smaller amount, about a third of that, was needed for adequate settling of stray items, fluids, and individuals. The Doyle was by no means small, for it was still easily a kilometer long and a third as wide, but alongside the Agnes and the other vessels it was currently tethered to, it was barely noticeable.
Edmund and Jeyga walked through the cramped corridors of the Doyle, with Merrion trailing behind them. She had only been working as a Junior Detective for the past year, during which Edmund had been assigned as her mentor. Even after a year on the job, her experience with the Doyle was still lacking, leading to her often getting lost in the twisting corridors and network of passageways within the vessel. Edmund and Jeyga's decades of experience aboard the Doyle showed easily, as they effortlessly navigated through the winding hallways to the Department of General Investigations, all the while chatting about mundanities. Merrion wondered how long it would take her to become as familiar with the Doyle as they were and pushed that thought down.
Jeyga turned to look at Merrion while still walking.
Jeyga: "So, why are you here so early today? Junior detectives aren't needed to report in until ten, and you're not authorized for the eight-thirty either."
Merrion blinked, having been caught by surprise by the sudden inquiry.
Merrion: "Oh uhm…Inspector Zora requested that I be here at nine and granted me temporary clearance." (thinking): Not sure why, though…
Edmund widened his gaze as he turned to Merrion.
Edmund: "So, it was you … "
---
The sound of three knocks on the door echoed through the office.
A lone woman sat in a swivel chair firmly anchored to the floor; her short brown hair tied up in a small ponytail. She faced away from the door, staring at a white screen which was conspicuously absent of any scribbles or markings whatsoever. Behind her was a metallic desk, its available surface crowded with stacks of files and a lone heating plate atop which sat a steaming mug of coffee.
There was a whirring sound as the door autolock system disengaged, followed by a click from the door handle being used.
Edmund: "Pardon the intrusion."
Edmund pushed the door open and ushered Merrion into the room, before entering it himself. The door automatically closed behind him, and the autolock whirred as the security bolts returned into place. Merrion, who hadn't eaten anything so far, perked up immediately upon detecting the strong fragrance of coffee that permeated the room. Edmund did too, but to a lesser degree.
Lone Woman: "Engage privacy lock."
The autolock system clicked in response to the woman's husky-toned command. She stood up and turned around to face Edmund and Merrion.
Inspector Zora was the highest ranked personnel in the Department of General Investigations, and its de facto Department Head. Whilst all other Department Heads were at least Commissioner rank and above, the unique hierarchy of General Investigations meant that since she actively refused to be promoted, and no one else was more qualified for the role, no one else could be promoted above her. To put it another way, the rank underinflation of her subordinates was her fault.
Of course, this was all in name only. Her skills and experience were all sufficient enough to earn her a promotion to the rank of Commissioner or beyond, and her authority and clearance were all adequate for her role as the head of her department.
Zora also had notoriety for her taste for office wear. A vibrant red pantsuit, expertly tailored to hug her figure while simultaneously exposing not a patch of skin aside from her wrists down and her neck up, was her outfit of choice today. Merrion's raised an eyebrow at the sight of Zora's outfit, but quickly diverted her own gaze upon catching the attention of the Inspector's grey eyes.
Zora: "Good morning, detectives. Thank you for showing up promptly despite my last-minute notification."
Edmund: "You cancelled my off, I didn't have a choice."
Zora: "You can claim another as compensation. Remind me when you need it."
Merrion was confused. Edmund was the only detective amongst the three of them. She raised her hand slightly, attempting to raise her point to Zora.
Merrion: "Pardon me, Inspector, but I'm only a Junior Detective."
Zora: "I believe I did not stutter, my dear Merrion. We can discuss titles later. Activate secure briefing mode."
Edmund and Merrion's eyes widened in surprise as the room dimmed slightly and a blood-red [SECRET] was projected upon the white screen on the wall opposite them.
Zora: "Time now is 0900, Year 900, Day 112. From this point onwards all further communications are classified SECRET until otherwise indicated. Acknowledge classification status, Detectives."
Edmund & Merrion: "SECRET classification status acknowledged, Ma'am."
Edmund and Merrion stood at attention in response to Zora's command, replying in perfect sync. Merrion's stomach growled angrily, but the embarrassing noises were ignored by everyone in the room. Merrion thanked the heavens that the darkened room hid her flushed face from sight.
Zora: "Yesterday at 2300, the Lord Admiral was found dead in a data interface within the Ninth Sector."
---
Merrion stood outside Inspector Zora's office, munching on a 'Sandwich Special', pondering what she had just heard inside the Inspector's office. She wondered if this would be her chance to prove herself worthy of being a Detective of the Fleet Investigators.
She looked at the office space before her. The main space of the General Investigations department consisted of an open space filled with cubicles. Most of these cubicles were empty and unoccupied, kept only in good condition by regular visits by the cleaning staff aboard the Doyle. Her own cubicle was off in the corner, just one of many. When she had first arrived at the department, she had asked Edmund why she couldn't have one of those ostensibly unoccupied cubicles, which had better air circulation than her own cubicle.
She jutted her lower lip out and spoke in a deliberately lowered voice in an attempt to mimic Edmund's tone.
Merrion: ""They're not unoccupied." Hrmph. They look plenty empty to me – hyah!"
There was a dull thump on the Inspector's door, which made Merrion jump slightly in surprise. Not long after, Edmund emerged from the office with a grim look painted upon his face before he slammed the Inspector's door shut.
---
Merrion gasped in sheer disbelief.
Merrion: "The Lord Admiral?!"
Zora: "– yes, the Lord Admiral. The two of you have been assigned to this case."
Merrion stared with eyes widened. This would be her very first actual case! For the last year she had been relegated to minor investigations, petty crime, pickpockets, domestic complaints and the likes. She knew that the General Investigators mostly handled the initial state of investigations before more specialized avenues of inquiry were required, but this was quite the jump. Still, this was a chance for her to prove to her mentor and her boss that she was worthy of being a proper member of the FID.
The confused expression on Edmund's face, however, told Merrion that he didn't think the same as she did.
Edmund: "Why us? Forget me, Merrion has only been with us for a year!"
Zora: "Logically speaking, there's really only you and her who could go. And besides – "
Zora's explanation was interrupted by a beeping sound from a speaker placed somewhere in the room. A new image was projected upon the white screen. It was an encoded transmission, a long sprawling wall of text stamped with a symbol that made Edmund freeze up; a stylized crimson flame flanked by five pairs of silver wings.
Zora: "Early this morning I received this encrypted communique. It contained no traceable metadata or sender information. But it was signed off with –"
Edmund: "– the Ten-Winged Flame –"
Edmund breathed those words, barely audible even to Merrion, who merely stared straight forward with widened eyes and bated breath.
Zora: "– and it specifically requested the both of you by name. This request has the tell-tale signs of the Admiralty written all over it. Now, don't go asking me why someone in the Admiralty knows who the both of you are. I don't know and I don't want to know. If you ever meet your client, feel free to ask them yourselves."
Merrion and Edmund's communicators chirped, registering the receival of a file transmission.
Zora: " I have sent the communique to both your communicators. You can read the text in detail later. To summarize the message for the both of you –"
Zora cleared her throat.
Zora: "The Lord Admiral is dead, a presumed assassination. The Admiralty plans to announce the news, eventually. You two are to observe the autopsy, record your observations and investigate any possible leads regarding the nature of the assassin. To assist the discreet nature of this request, you are authorized to display the seal of the Admiralty to assist you in persuading the unwilling."
Edmund: "Where is the autopsy due to take place?"
Edmund asked, his mind already racing through the myriad possibilities and conjectures for motivations that could have led to some insane individual plotting to, and succeeding at, murdering the Lord Admiral.
Zora: "I have already sent you the coroner's address. They're located aboard the Mahoney, which has the largest hospital in the Fleet. There will likely be undercover security deployed, so take care not to draw too much attention. Personally, I'd remain on guard for the responsible party, should they attempt to recover the body. Any further questions?"
Merrion and Edmund stood stock still.
Zora: "Then in that case, as of 0910, Year 900, Day 112, SECRET communications are terminated, and further communications are UNCLASSIFIED. Acknowledge classification status, Detectives."
Edmund & Merrion: "UNCLASSIFIED status acknowledged, Ma'am."
The projections on the white screen vanished, and the brightness of the room returned to normal. With the serious atmosphere during the briefing all but gone, the next loud rumble of Merrion's empty stomach made her face flush red in embarrassment.
Zora: "Oh, have you not eaten yet, Detective Merrion?"
Merrion: "… no ma'am."
Zora: "The canteen is open. You can grab something to eat there – "
Merrion heard Zora talking to her, but she kept looking down, trying her hardest to conceal her flushed red face. A wrapped package with the words "Sandwich Special" written in bright bold font was thrusted before her, held in Edmund's firm grip.
Edmund: "Take it, it's a spare I bought earlier."
Merrion's eyes lit up with the generous offering before her.
Merrion: "Thank you for the food!"
She took the package and immediately began devouring the contents voraciously.
Edmund: "Wait for me outside, Merrion. We're heading to the armory later."
Merrion: "Okay!"
Merrion exited the office, the door automatically closing behind her. Instead of immediately following after her, Edmund remained behind in the office, looking straight at Zora. Their gazes matched, and even though she knew, she still asked.
Zora: "Are you not going to follow?"
Edmund: "Why is she being involved in this? She's only been here a year."
Zora: "You've asked me already; I can't help you with that. She joined us instead of the other more prestigious departments. Honestly, I'm thankful for that. You know that our department is chronically understaffed. Plus, this assignment is out of my control."
Edmund: "She's fresh out of training, and even you know that a year isn't enough to be promoted to Detective!"
Zora: "Given the circumstances, this can be considered as a field promotion. It'll grant her the authorization to carry around a Verdict, which should prove useful in –"
Edmund: "SHE'S JUST A KID!"
Edmund shouted, slamming his fist against the door. Only a dull thump echoed forth from the door, but there was a small dent where Edmund's fist had met the metal. Zora's eyes widened momentarily as she felt the dull impact rattle her teeth before returning to normal.
Edmund paused upon seeing Zora's steely expression, and he took a deep breath.
Edmund: "Look, whoever's behind this is dangerous. I know that; you know that, and whoever requested for us knows that! I promised…her, that I'd keep Merrion safe, and –"
Zora: "If it's any consolation, I would have sent Mordecai if he weren't still recovering. I'm sorry, Edmund, but you'll just have to protect her to the best of your ability."
Edmund: "Damn it all. If only Camelia – if only she was still –"
Edmund muttered, too soft for Zora to hear. With a pained look in his eyes, Edmund slammed the door shut behind him as he left the room. The sound echoed in the room before dying down, and only the background hum of machinery remained audible in the silent office.
Surrounded by the blanket of silence, Zora waited for five seconds before letting out a sigh of relief. She walked over to inspect the damage to the armored door to her office, her magnetic boots clicking with each step she took.
Zora ran her roughened fingers along the metal, tracing a line from the handle to the lone dent in the solid mass, before returning back to her table and collapsing back into her chair.
A quick sip of coffee helped calm down Zora's nerves with its harsh fragrance. She returned her cup to its resting place and spoke out loud to no-one in particular.
Zora: "It's been a whole year since she first arrived. You're holding her back. Even if you promised her that you could, you can't protect her forever."
Zora (thinking) Perhaps I should have said those words before he stormed off. Deep down he's still the same, just like back then. Is that other kid also the same?
She quickly glanced over to the lone drawer under her table with a physical lock upon it, before returning her attention to the mounds of files atop her desk.
Zora: "Still, I can't believe he managed to dent this armor plating. Incredible."
---
Edmund and Merrion walked down a series of tight corridors, with Edmund in front and Merrion following closely behind him. Shadows cast by the taller Edmund swept over Merrion continuously as the fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling were momentarily obscured, then visible again in a strobing fashion. Here in the cramped underbelly of the Doyle, it was just the two of them, and the sound of their magnetic boots latching and unlatching to the floor echoed through the corridor.
Edmund: "Have you been inside the armory before?"
Edmund asked Merrion, still facing forward as he navigated through the passages.
"I haven't, actually. Inspector Zora was supposed to show me, but something came up, and we never got back to it. Junior Detectives don't carry ballistics anyway, so I never needed to."
Edmund: "Well then, today's your lucky day."
After another five minutes navigating the maze-like corridors, the pair finally reached the end of the current passage. Before them stood a plain door, with the words DOYLE F.I.D ARMORY emblazoned in big black letters across the door.
Edmund pulled out his communicator and pressed it up to a pad on the right side of the corridor wall. A similar pad was located on the left side, against which he pressed his bare palm.
Edmund: "Detective Edmund, requesting armory access."
A response came in the form of a robotic voice constructed from individual phonetic tones.
<
Edmund turned to face Merrion, nodding curtly towards the door.
Merrion: "Uhm, Junior Detective Merrion – "
Merrion spoke softly, before she was interrupted by the robotic voice.
<
Merrion: "– oh. Erm, Detective Merrion…requesting armory access."
<
Edmund removed his communicator and palm from the pads, and Merrion mimicked the exact same procedure with her own communicator and palm. A high-pitched tone issued forth and the armory door hissed, the sounds of reinforced bolts unscrewing and retracting from within the door mechanism filling the corridor. Merrion grimaced, the high pitched winding and scraping sounds unpleasant to her ears. Edmund barely flinched, his ears having long grown used to the sounds. The groaning of the door mechanism finally ceased as the door split in half, each half retracting into the opposite wall.
<
---
The Doyle's armory was a small room, about the same size as Zora's office. A rack of guns sat at the far end of the room, with several lockers at the right labelled with the different types of munitions available. On the left was a worktable of some kind, with a bright light angled over its surface. Cans of lubricant and sealants were locked to the worktable by small chains, and a small box labelled "TOOLS" sat atop the table. Near the entrance were several other racks of armored jackets & vests, belts, and straps.
Eyes widened, Merrion looked around excitedly, almost ecstatic. This was her first time seeing all that firepower in one room. While all investigation staff were required to be familiarized with important locations within the Doyle, she had fallen through the cracks somehow and had been forgotten, at least when it came to the armory.
As a Junior Detective, most of the assignments she had been previously given were minor in nature, nothing potentially dangerous enough to justify armory access. Even if she were assigned to such a task, a Junior Detective was not of sufficient rank to wield ballistic weapons on patrol, much less access the armory. She looked at the worktable and noticed the heavily scarred and pitted surface; each scratch and indent highlighted by the light angled above contrasting with the oily stains of grease.
There was a small click, and Merrion turned around to see Edmund already pressing his hand to one of the lockers. She hadn't realized it before, but the lockers each had a small panel on them, a handprint scanner. Edmund opened the locker, pulled out three small boxes and brought them over to the workbench. He opened up one box and pulled out a single round. It was a small object, about the length of a knuckle to the fingertip, and it had a small indentation at its tip.
Edmund: "Hollow point rounds. I take it you've learnt about them before?"
Merrion nodded, remembering one of her lectures during her academy days. That was the first time she had ever seen the effect of a hollow-point round on flesh; how the round impacted the simulated target and caused massive internal wounding.
Edmund: "We use these rounds to prevent puncturing the vessel hull. Of course, we only use these in extreme circumstances. At all other times, always aim to either immobilize, or incapacitate the suspect." Edmund tapped another box. "To that end, we almost always use these, our electroshock batons and stun guns."
Merrion: "Understood."
Edmund nodded, relieved that Merrion remembered her training. He placed two batons: about a third of a meter in length and no more than 2cm wide, and the stun guns on the table. "Follow me, we're getting your gun."
Merrion and Edmund walked over to a smaller rack. This rack was filled with weapon storage holsters, but most of the holsters were empty. The few that were occupied were all holding handguns. All the holsters each had smaller panels on them, like the one Edmund used earlier. Merrion looked over as Edmund scrutinized the seemingly identical guns.
Edmund: "Hmm, I think this one is suitably sized for you. Merrion, place your thumb on the holster's scanner."
Merrion reached out and rested her thumb on the panel, hearing a small beep and a female voice in response to her.
<
<
The holster popped out of the rack with a loud click. Merrion caught it immediately and tried pulling it out. However, no matter how hard she tried, the gun refused to separate from the storage holster.
Merrion: "Damn, why is this gun so clingy?"
Edmund sighed.
Edmund: "Your thumb needs to be on the scanner. It's on the right side of the grip."
Merrion wrapped her left hand around the grip, placing her thumb at where Edmund indicated, and found herself able to pull the gun free with ease. She held the handgun with both hands and quickly realized how comfortable it felt in her grip; her left hand on the handgrip and her right hand providing support. The voice from earlier started speaking again.
<
Merrion gasped slightly as words and images started to be appear in her field of vision. Words like <
Edmund: "The MK14 Verdict. Standard issue sidearm for detective-level and above. Crosshair shows the expected impact location of a projectile. It can compensate for rotational effects as well, like firing in or away from the direction of rotation in centrifugal gravity. Get used to the display, could save your life one day. God knows that feature has saved me countless times in the past."
Merrion took a final look at the gun and returned it back to the holster. The display disappeared without a trace.
Merrion: "This gun was made for left-handers, wasn't it? The ejection port opened to the left."
Edmund: "Good that you picked up on that. It's a special variant of the Verdict, and the armory only has a few such variant models."
Edmund guided Merrion through the process of cleaning, oiling, and assembling the gun. Together, they performed basic maintenance on the weapons, before finally loading up several handgun magazines with the hollow-point rounds. Edmund grabbed two armored jackets from the rack near the front of the room, sizing them up. He returned the larger one to the rack and passed the smaller one to Merrion.
Edmund: "Standard issue barrier jacket. An internal lining of reactive armor, which should protect you from the waist up if we get fired upon."
Merrion wore the jacket, which fit her surprisingly well.
Merrion: "You've been observing me, haven't you? This jacket is perfect for me. The gun, too."
Edmund: "I'm a detective, Merrion, it's a job requirement to be observant. I need to be just as observant, if not better."
Merrion: "What about yours?"
Edmund stared at the rack for a while, before retrieving an armored vest and putting it on.
Edmund: "This will do fine. My arms get too hot in a jacket. The sleeves just get in the way."
Merrion and Edmund loaded up their armor with the spare magazines, the electroshock batons and the stun guns. They strapped the handguns to their waists; Edmund's holster resting at his right, and Merrion's holster at her left. As they walked out of the armory and through the security scanner, the armory door hissed shut behind them and returned to its sealed state once more, bolts groaning back into place.
Merrion: "So, an autopsy? I'm not looking forward to meeting a dead man."
Merrion smiled cheekily.
Merrion: "Even if he was the Lord Admiral."
Edmund: "Don't be so nervous. Let's pay him our respects."
Edmund adjusted the vest resting snugly over his grey shirt.
Edmund: "For the sake of our client in the Admiralty, we'll be early for our late Lord Admiral."