“Son of a bitch!” Ashton expostulated, sitting forward and jabbing an accusing finger at the screen. “That’s a flat-out lie! I met Major Dunham and the Empress in my last case on Sintar! They were all but twins in everything but age! Even as an Imperial Guardsman, it was obvious he loved his sister! There’s no way in twenty-three levels of hell he’d ever have done anything to hurt her! And the Council and the Imperial Police Headquarters were as crooked as an entire shipment of springs! It’s why I’m here!!”
“¡Hijo de puta!” Jaime Hernandez exclaimed. (Son of a bitch!)
“You know that,” General Walder noted. “And I have no doubt that she knows that. But the average inhabitant of this sector? They have no clue. The majority only know what they are told about such things. And Ms. Palomo is ensuring that she is doing the telling – directly, or indirectly.”
“Damnation.”
“Exactly.”
The interview with the sector governor continued.
“…So I am forced to consider what kind of ruler this ‘Trajan’ will be,” Palomo declared. “A man that would kill his own sister has little if anything in the way of a heart. I do not expect benevolence. I fully anticipate despotism.”
“Are you considering what to do about it? Is there anything you can do about it?” the reporter queried.
“That is under discussion with my advisors,” Palomo admitted. “We believe there are steps we can take, yes. And we are prepared to take them. I will not have my people,” here she swept her hands about, as if to gather the entire sector into her embrace, “fall victim to a tyrant.”
And the interview ended.
“This isn’t going to go well at all, is it?” Ashton asked then.
“No, son, I don’t think it is,” Walder agreed. “This may not have been the best place to send you to keep you safe. If matters go south under her regime – and make no mistake, she wants a regime, she just doesn’t have it quite yet – then we may end up under siege here, or even under attack. I’ve heard rumors she’s working on suborning the military commanders assigned to the sector. Both Navy and Marine, but I think the Navy commander is already in her pocket.”
“Damn her to hell.”
“I’d like to, yes.”
“Is there anything I can do, sir? Something to help?”
“I don’t know yet, Nick. I’m watching and waiting, and doing my job while staying in the background as much as possible. When you get down to it, we may be the police force, but we’re grossly outnumbered by the population as a whole, and if that population turns nasty toward anything to do with the imperium, and if the naval forces back them instead of us, we’re in a great deal of trouble.”
A few days later, Ashton was on his way back from a quick investigation for Walder; the assumed perp had been caught at the scene of a robbery, but Walder wanted Ashton to give it a once-over to verify that the arrested person was indeed the suspect. It hadn’t taken him long – not all such criminals were exactly masterminds, after all – and Ashton was headed back to Imperial Police Sector Headquarters.
When he rounded a corner into an alley shortcut and came face to face with a wild-eyed man holding a pistol on him.
“Whoa!” Ashton said, taking a step back. “Sir, please don’t brandish a weapon like that. You could accidentally hurt somebody.”
“Oh, I’m gonna hurt somebody,” the man practically snarled. “You’re a dead man, Ashton.”
“Ah. So you’re the one,” Ashton said, heart sinking. Damn. I thought this was finally over, he thought. Instead, I let my guard down, and I’m caught.
“Yeah, I’m the one that shot at you right after you got here,” the man said, shaking lightly. “Because it’s your fault I’m here at all!” He flexed his free hand absently, and Ashton noticed the man’s fingers were swollen and peeling, and the nails were dark. A quick check of the gun hand revealed the same condition there.
“I…don’t understand,” Ashton said, now studying the other man carefully. He noted the coveralls, and the name patch on the left breast. Martin, he thought. Shit, is this the informant Kershaw kept, Mark Martin? What the hell is he doing here? And damn, is he skinny. Doesn’t look like he’s been eating that well lately. I wonder what’s up with that. But those eyes, and the spasms…has he gone ‘round the bend? He definitely isn’t well.
“Dammit, Ashton, do I gotta spell it out for you?!” the man demanded, incensed and frustrated. He waved the pistol around wildly, and his head jerked to the side repeatedly in a tic-like spasm. “I’m here because of you! I saw you, reported it to Kershaw, and Kershaw sent me after you, you bastard, instead of on my vacation! I spent all my cash to change my tickets to follow you, with the promise that Kershaw would get me back on track and the money reimbursed! Then all your cock-sucking, shit-nosed pals killed him! Killed all of them! Every last
