Transferred (Patreon)

After Hype telling me that I should rewrite the book (and taking a bit to lick my wounds), I've rewritten chapter two with a new plan of attack.

This isn't set in stone, but I'd really like to hear what you think! It's only Chapter 2, so it's not a spoiler, even if you're waiting for the final version.

———

Tori struggled to sit silently aboard Commissioner Sarsuk’s shuttle while he flew her and Druka through the gate, around, and into a second gate that would lead them to their new ship. She doubted that the gigantic lizard recognized her—wrapped in an orange environment suit, with only a little of her face showing through the faceplate—but she certainly remembered him. This was the first time she’d seen the yellow lizard since the accident.

Her body trembled, and her mate’s grip on her gloved paw tightened ever so slightly.

Did Sarsuk realize who he was transferring off? Had he even bothered to read the transfer order? she wondered. Tori growled at how ridiculous she was being. Sarsuk didn’t care. His indifference had almost gotten her killed, had left her maimed, suffering, and barely able to function. She doubted that he’d even checked the ship’s report to see if she’d lived or died.

Despite the krakun occupying most of the shuttle’s passenger space, she tried not to think about him, instead forcing her mind to focus on other questions—any other questions—as a distraction.

She wished that she could pull out her strand and read up on her new assignment, read up on the killer and what clues had been uncovered in his case, but of course, she couldn’t. The strand was still strapped to her shoulder, and she couldn’t unzip her suit without letting the deadly sulfuric air inside.

Tori hated that they’d left the Harvest Reaper III so abruptly. With only an hour’s warning, she’d barely had a chance to talk Druka into coming with her. Okay, yeah, he’d agreed to it immediately, but they’d barely gotten a chance to discuss it. They hadn’t had an opportunity to sublease their apartment nor sell their stuff. She’d managed to call her father and warn him that they hadn’t just disappeared … but ugh. Their entire lives had been tossed out an airlock. When they eventually came back, what would they be returning to?

The case. The case. Focus on the case! she reprimanded herself. The case was her ticket to the Sailor’s Gambit I, the ship where Dr. Amhela worked. If anyone could clone her a new body, it was him. She had to solve this case, and she had to bribe the doctor into helping. If not…

Well, it was best not to think about what would happen to her if she failed.

They waited while the shuttle bay pressurized, then Commissioner Sarsuk lowered the shuttle’s ramp, and the geroo departed—Tori shuffling slowly and Druka beside her, doing his best to support her weight on his arm. As they reached the airlock, two more suited geroo exited, and the pairs exchanged quick, silent waves of acknowledgement.

Each ship in the fleet had a hard limit of ten thousand geroo, so for Tori and Druka to transfer aboard, two other geroo were required to transfer off. It didn’t matter that the serial killer had already killed six. Those six birth tokens—six authorizations to exist—would have been immediately transferred to couples wishing to become parents. And from a company point of view, those six new geroo counted against the ship’s maximum, whether they’d been conceived yet or not.

The airlock cycled, and Tori removed her helmet, relieved to draw a breath of fresher air. Then, Druka removed and folded his environment suit while she waited on a bench for his assistance. Since the accident, she no longer had the range of motion needed to do it herself.

Tori looked about the dressing area, but they were alone. Despite the transfer instructions mentioning that a company administrator would meet them at the airlock, the two were alone.

Druka carefully helped her remove her environment suit, then he folded it and put it away. Tori sat on the bench and nervously swung her paws, but still, no one came for them.

Her mate took a seat beside her, and she removed her strand, taking the opportunity to peek at the case files. “Six victims,” she read to Druka. “Six geroo, all poisoned, and all in some position of authority—two administrators, an officer, two supervisors, and someone from security.”

“Oof,” said Druka. “I bet the company hates that.”

Tori nodded. “Yeah, I bet you’re right,” she agreed. “These targets weren’t chosen at random.”

“Do you suppose the killer even knew the victims,” he asked, “or just killed them for what they represented?”

“Good question!” she said. “I should probably figure that out first. If he knew them, well … that’s an awful lot of grudges, but if he didn’t…”

Her words trailed off, and Druka turned to meet her eyes. He asked, “Can a single geroo stage a mutiny?”

Her stomach tumbled, and she touched his lips with her pads. “Don’t even say that word,” she whispered. Though the company didn’t care about any individual geroo, they did care about the ships in their fleets, and they would do most anything to maintain control over them. “Perhaps that was why it was worth the effort to transfer us?”

Not that it had been particularly hard work for Commissioner Sarsuk to fly from one ship to another, but her impression of the yellow krakun was one that simply didn’t care what happened to geroo—be it the victims aboard her old ship, this new ship, nor even what happened to Tori herself.

Finally, a geroo with a disheveled pelt of white fur stumbled around a corner, only to rest his shoulder up against the wall for a moment while he caught his breath. His pink eyes were bloodshot through, and his head hung down like someone who hadn’t managed to get a full night’s sleep.

“Well, it’s about time,” grumbled Tori as she climbed to her paws. “We’ve been waiting half an hour since we transferred aboard. You sure look like you’re in rough shape,” she chided in a friendly manner.

“Look who’s…” he started to say, pointing a finger at the rusty red geroo, but then he must have noticed just how badly Tori’s entire body was scarred up. His ears drooped, and his finger slowly curled back like a deflating balloon. “Yeah… It was quite a party last night. I guess you missed it if you just came aboard—port to starboard, bow to stern, and every deck from ten down.”

“A ship-wide party?” asked Druka with surprise. He rose and stood to Tori’s side.

“Perhaps?” he asked. “If there were parties on the upper decks, they weren’t open to the public. Their loss, y’know? ’Cause I’m a lot of fun at parties. I musta gotten kicked outa a dozen before I passed out on … twenty-two? Musta been somewhere on twenty-two, but don’t hold me to that. Was kinda a blur.”

“I bet,” chuckled Tori.

The white geroo stumbled forward a few more steps, then dropped a heavy bag of tools in front of an aluminum panel. He groaned at the jangling noise and covered his ears, then rifled through the bag until he found a screwdriver.

Tori and Druka shared a look, but the other geroo ignored them. He unscrewed the panel and set it to the side, exposing wiring inside. With a quick sniff, he nodded. “Yes, indeedy! Smells like a burned-out regulator. You can always tell by the smell. Very distinctive scent,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Sorry I kept you waiting. I coulda done this one a couple days back if I’d known it was urgent.”

He yanked out a module that had been blackened slightly on one side, then plugged in one from his bag, the case still shiny and new. Through the window to the now-empty shuttle bay, Tori saw a short string of lights blink on. “There you go! All better,” he said, pointing at the lights. Then, he turned about and started screwing the panel back into place.

“Wait a second,” said Druka. “You’re not here to meet us?”

The white geroo looked over his shoulder. “Meet you?”

“Yeah. Administrator U’ju,” said Tori. “He was supposed to meet us here over half an hour ago.”

“Oh!” said the other, drawing the sound way out. “Well, that makes way more sense now. I was wondering why new arrivals were so hung up on the lights.” He dropped his screwdriver back in the bag and winced again at the sound.

“So … you’re not Administrator U’ju,” Druka repeated.

“Thojy,” said the white geroo, taking a moment to touch Druka’s palm. With a grin, he added, “I could be Electrician Thojy, if that helps.”

Tori groaned. “Then, where is he?” She pulled out her strand and started searching for his number.

“He’s late,” said Thojy as he grabbed his tools.

“Obviously,” sighed Druka.

“No,” said the electrician, “like ‘the late Administrator U’ju’ sort of late.”

When the pair stared blankly at him, Thojy added, “He’s dead. Murdered yesterday.”

“Seven victims,” whispered Druka.

Tori seemed less surprised. “So, you knew him?”

Thojy’s eyes finally opened all the way. “Me?” He pointed at his own chest and then looked behind himself as if she might have been addressing someone else. “No, no, no. I didn’t know him!”

“But yet you knew he was dead,” said Tori slowly. “You knew that it was Administrator U’ju who got murdered yesterday, not someone else.”

Thojy rolled his eyes and grinned in relief. “Well, I presume it was him,” he said with a wink. “The last administrator aboard was murdered yesterday. There’s none left now, so I have to assume it was U’ju.”

“No administrators?” whispered Druka, his eyes wide.

“Yup!” said Thojy. “Hence the party.”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/19jfLtItohlX7Fn3IBOolrzsqv6d_sHAvj3Knu3s7suA/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?