“We have advanced to new and surprising levels of bafflement.”
The body in the vents was hundreds of years old. Dating back to some of the last territorial wars that occurred in or near Cuidgari space. Tracking down the insignia remaining on the body required nosing around in the Archivaas networks.
Something which Lyr had drafted Rael for on Hours Plus. In this case, Hours, plus food and lodging. The food part was going to set her back a great deal, he knew, because his metabolism was permanently set on ‘searing hot’.
Rael had stopped when he’d run out of sources and kibble simultaneously, and pinged Officer Marken to meet him at Unsuitable Food Eat for some paid taste-testing.
“Progress?” asked Lyr.
“I have reached new and surprising levels of bafflement.”
“Well, crap,” she slumped in her seat. “I still owe you for your time. How much is this going to set me back?”
“This is a pre-menu item. I’m being paid to eat,” he smiled. “Something of a holiday job for me. Win-win, on this case.”
“Yeah. I saw your average food bill. Sherlock’s going to get sarcastic.”
Rael slid across the tablet with his findings. “The insignia had three possible factions depending on their placement on the uniform. All of them Cuidgari rebels against the forced overtaking of Amalgam Station by… B'dauss military.”
“Wow. Ancient history.”
“Yes. There’s little extant sources from that time. The Archivaas have done what they can, but…”
“Damn.” Lyr shook her head. “I know this is going to turn up again. Did the forensics department give you anything?”
“Acid. Hydrochloric acid. Highly concentrated. But there’s no evidence of how it impacted the poor fellow’s thorax from above.”
“Not any more. This station and its sundry parts have been re-tooled so often that it’s surprising there’s anything to use as evidence.” Her gaze went unfocussed and her body straightened in her seat. Something else spoke with her mouth. “When a shadow walks, we’ll know.”
“Pardon?”
Lyr shook herself. “What?”
“You just said something very strange.”
“Well write it down. I don’t prophesy often. It’s probably something important. Oh, and send me a copy for the records. The religious quadrant is checking my hit-to-miss ratio.”
Rael made a dismissive noise and rolled his eyes, indicating his general opinion of the religious quadrant. But he did make note of Lyr’s strange words.
How in the realm of possibility could a shadow walk?
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