“Godspeed, son,” he murmured, barely loud enough for Ashton to hear. “Good luck, and watch your back. You may be in a different org chart, but these goons are still in the same city with you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ashton said, and headed for the door.
As soon as Carter saw Ashton safely out the front door of Imperial Police headquarters, he sat back down at his desk and logged into VR.
There, he began filling out a very special form. One that pertained only to him, for a change.
Once he had submitted it, he leaned back in his desk chair with a very tired sigh.
Here’s hoping, he thought.
“So you’re interested in investigation, Officer Ashton?” Colonel Maia Peterson asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ashton admitted. “My mom was a huge mystery fan, and she sicced me onto ‘em, too. I’ve read so many old classic detective novels – everything from Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot and Agatha Christie, to Philip Marlowe, let alone the more recent stuff, like that Peter Popinjay character; who writes that? Oh! Seneca Flandry. I thought it was cool, and then I discovered there was a real-life method there…and I was hooked.”
“You know those are only fiction…”
“Yes ma’am! But the real thing is even better, from the couple of cases I’ve helped out with. I think so, anyway.”
“And you’d like to go into that side of things?”
“Absolutely. Only…I want it to be…real.” He paused, then added, “And straight.”
“Captain Carter said he suspicioned you would,” Peterson admitted, noting the addendum but deciding not to comment on it. “All right. Let me see, here, then…” She took on the blank look of someone working in VR for a few moments, then resumed focusing on Ashton. “Okay, there; I’ve put you in the fast track for investigative work, and I’ve called several of our detectives – the ones that aren’t on a case…or other diversionary tactic,” she shot a glance at Ashton, who nodded understanding, “at this moment – and they’ll be coming by here so I can introduce you. I’ll assign you to their department, and you can be a kind of assistant and adjunct to their work. An investigator, but not a detective – not yet. You have a few ranks to move up through, first.”
“That sounds great, ma’am. At least here I’ve got a chance. Thank you so much.”
At the Imperial City Spaceport, a young man in an Imperial Police uniform and a brunet crew cut was seen off by an older man and woman, who hugged him, kissed him, and told him to be careful. The young man picked up an oversized duffel and slung it over his shoulder, then went through the gate and boarded a shuttle. The older couple waved through the gate windows as the shuttle revved up, then lifted off. The woman dashed tears from her eyes, and the man put his arm around her.
Then they turned and left, headed for the concourse exit.
The young officer rode the shuttle up to the Sintar Spacelines craft, the SSS Imperium. There he boarded the star liner and ducked into the nearest head, locking the door behind him. He opened the duffel, revealing two small cases, one soft-sided, one hard. Plopping the soft-sided case on the sink, he opened it and pulled out a set of well-worn, casual civilian clothing, stripping off the police uniform, folding and placing it in the case, before donning the fresh clothing. That case was fastened, placed on the floor next to the duffel, and replaced with the hard-sided case.
This case held makeup, wigs, and more. He pulled off the brunet wig he wore, revealing a completely shaved head. The wig went into its place in the case, and an auburn wig pulled out, in a longer style.
This went on his head, secured in place with some double-sided tape, and the man fished brown-colored lenses from his eyes, revealing bright blue eyes. The discarded lenses went into a special small case, which was in turn tucked into a recess inside the suitcase.
Then he set to work on his face, removing makeup, thoroughly cleansing his face, then starting again and adding wrinkles and bags under his eyes, as well as copious freckles.
When he was finished, he picked up the empty duffel and turned it inside-out, revealing what looked like a completely different duffel. The makeup case and the clothing bag went inside, and it was fastened.
Ten minutes after “Nick Ashton” had entered, an older, ginger-complected deckhand exited the head and made his way to the shuttle about to debark, headed back for Sintar on leave.
Peterson introduced Ashton to several of the detectives in the Imperial City Police force, and he was duly impressed by all of them, but the ones with whom he instantly bonded were Eugene Demetrius and Stefan Gorski.
In addition, there were two other detectives who were commuting between Imperial City and Charia, the main city on the other big Sintaran continent of Hartug; there was a major murder case going on there that apparently started in Imperial City, at least in terms of planning. Detective Jill Amundsen and Inspector Taylor Haptman were ostensibly part of the Investigations department as well, but currently spent little time there, and most of their time in the courts of Charia.
“So I’m afraid it may be some time before I can introduce you to them, Nick,” she told him.
“That’s all right, ma’am; it’s something to look forward to,” he replied with an understanding grin, and she chuckled.
“Somebody’s enjoying this, huh?”
“A chance to meet and work with straight investigators? Oh HELL yes, ma’am!”
Peterson also introduced him to several of the other investigators in the department that had not yet made detective: Peter Rassmussen, Roger Armbrand, Timothy Jones, Darrell Osborn, and Rich Weyand. Of those five, the most experienced were Rassmussen and Armbrand, both of whom
