A Havenworlder version of Sherlock Holmes who is accompanied by a Deathworlder version of John Watson (a human seems logical but a Vorax sounds more interesting) -- Mterrazas
The entire Galactic Alliance is large enough for everyone to find their niche. Even the truly bizarre ones like a Havenworlder who finds fascination in solving murders and mysteries. Her name is Aprat Mont. She is a consulting detective and is naturally attracted to anomalous details. Of course, a Havenworlder literally can't survive everywhere and will find it necessary to have a Deathworlder escort to keep them safe and, in the case of Mont, from blithely walking into hostile territory to ask antagonising questions. This, more or less, explains Vorax U'att Sen.
U'att has long since surrendered to the Vorax title, even though ze is from the Maker Caste and therefore not a Vorax. Things get complicated and most Galactics prefer to make it simple. Calling hirself Maker-Vorax only confused things further, since Maker was also an occupation and ze was an escort-guard and also an assistant. Therefore, 'Vorax' was simpler and served the dual purpose of making others back off from any hostility. Keeping up with, and keeping track of Mont was a full-time job that came with a free education.
Which, today, included standing underneath Mont as she scrabbled around some support struts with a grav-reduction net in case she fell. The reptilloid Havenworlder was more absorbed in peering at something up in there than any harm that might come to her if her grip slipped. "Interesting. Interesting. Yes..." She peered down at the lingering blood spatter and back up into the tangle of cables and more support structures. "Tell me, U'att. What travels in a direct line and leaves parts of a cogniscent being in the ceiling works?"
U'att could only think of one thing, "A projectile."
"Yes. And we all know that projectile weapons in enclosed environments are at minimum foolish and at maximum omnicidal... yet there is a projectile that has made it through the brain case of one cogniscent, a roof support, and at least three cables... it should be..."
U'att sidled along through the tangle. "Ah! It came to rest in the sound baffling." Mont used the cables to support her lighter body as she fussed with image capturing, grippers, and an evidence baggie. "I do believe the murder weapon is similar to a Terran Bee Bee Gun."
"B.B.," corrected U'att. "From the initials for 'ball bearing'. It would explain the absence of propellant trace on all other passengers, as the B.B. Gun uses manually-manufactured air pressure to propel the projectile."
"Capital," Mont flushed with glee. "I can always rely on your extensive knowledge of weaponry, U'att. Would a Deathworlder be necessary for producing the necessary pressure, or are more average Galactic Citizens also in the suspect pool?" She finally came down to floor level.
This allowed U'att to shinny up the strut to peer at the hole in the ceiling supports. "This is cellulose-based, so average citizens are also in the suspect pool. Not many Havenworlders would be capable though. Class One, and even then it's only theoretically possible." Ze came back down.
"So... it is entirely possible that someone was attempting to frame a Deathworlder as a form of back-up plan to the discovery of the method."
"There's only two Deathworlders on this vessel, five average types, and... no Havenworlders capable of manually creating the pressure necessary. We've reduced the suspect pool to seven instead of thirty." Mont took the time to display her rounded teeth in a very Deathworlder sign of pleasure. "The game is afoot!"
U'att sprang after her. Even though ze was a Maker, there was more than a hint of hunter instinct in hir genetic makeup. Mont may have been an anomaly, but U'att was a natural.
They would track down whoever was responsible.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / jgroup]
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