Murder in Orbit Read Free Page A

cold.
    Oblivious to my troubles, the paddles in the tank drew the dead man back into the devouring chemicals.

Chapter 3
    Witness for the Decayed
    When I first woke I was too disoriented to think clearly. I put my fingers to my forehead, which was throbbing from the smack I had given it. I drew them back in disgust as I realized my skin was still coated with vomit.
    At least that took care of the question of what to do first. Hobbling to the shower, I stripped off my clothes. Then I stepped in and turned the water on full force.
    I yelped as the spray hit my skin. It felt like liquid ice.
    It was a cry of shock, not surprise. I knew the water would be cold. (You’d never use warm water for a chemical accident, after all—it would only speed things up.) But knowing and feeling are two different things. So it was still a shock.
    But the cold water helped to clear my mind. Considering what was going on, I wasn’t sure that was such a blessing. I might have been happier if my brain was still foggy. And even after the shower I didn’t know what to do next. I suppose if I had been on Earth, I would have called the police. But we don’t have a police department up here.
    We never figured we’d need one.
    After all, if you’re going to put 25,000 people in a tin can in outer space and expect them to form a productive society, you’re going to be pretty choosy about who you let on board. That’s why every colonist selected for ICE-3 had been triple-checked. First we were given a psychological workup, to see if we could withstand the pressures of living in space. Then the colonial administration used its computer to compare the psych profiles, to avoid “explosive personality combinations.” Finally the computer did a background check that was so thorough it could probably have told you embarrassing secrets about your grandmother when it was done.
    The point is, if we didn’t all get along perfectly, at least we were sure we didn’t have any muggers or murderers on board.
    Or so we thought.
    That was part of what was so horrifying about finding that body, If I had been Earthside, I doubt it would have bothered me so much. I mean, I get the impression that in some cities down there you’re lucky if you can get through a whole day without tripping over a corpse. But up here we never expect to see something like that. So when I found that body in the tank it left me feeling like my world had been turned on its ear.
    My father used to have a sign over his desk that said EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW IS WRONG. That was how I felt now. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. In fact, it was downright frightening.
    â€œGet a grip on yourself, Rusty!” I yelled, grabbing my head and squeezing it. (God only knows what good I thought that would do.)
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That was more helpful. As I calmed down, I realized my first step should be to call Dr. Hadley, my supervisor for this job.
    Unfortunately, Dr. Hadley wasn’t available. And Dr. Twining had told me he would be tied up in some political meeting.
    Now what?
    I decided to call the Office of Dispute Management. Even though this wasn’t really up their alley, I figured they would be my best bet.
    Dispute Management is the closest thing ICE-3 has to a police force, although the people who work there prefer to call themselves “Ombudspersons.” I guess that’s fair, since their work is more diplomacy than enforcement; usually they don’t deal with anything more serious than two scientists squabbling over lab time. Still, their job was to solve problems. And a problem was definitely what I had.
    A man with steel-gray hair appeared on the screen.
    â€œOffice of Dispute Management. Can I help you?”
    â€œI want to report a murder.”
    The man looked as if he had swallowed something that was still alive. And wiggling. “What did you say, young man?”
    â€œA