4.
Terra Unfamilia

-1-

Rachman heard the desperate call and turned. He had been arguing with Linda about something that fizzled and shrank into the white noise and clutter of indecipherable shards of darkness enveloping them. From the edge of a ragged and moaning landscape Massud was calling. Rachman jumped from the chair and over the balcony’s edge. He ran leaving Linda to fade behind him, a little dark haired figure at her side. His feet fell on concrete first, then dirt. Then something that shifted, wet and hot under him. He fought to stabilize himself but fell into the mess of the terrain, and fire rose from the ground to greet him in a flare of angry pain.

“Rachman!”

He rose from the grasp of the flame and the world corrected itself.

“Rachman!”

He shifted his confused gaze and fire phased slowly into a feminine form. Linda. He was in the study.

“Fuck!” he spat forcing himself up from the chair, the disturbing remnants of his dreams still gripping the edges of his consciousness. “Oh, damn. I just had a dream… oh… shit it was… damn.”

“Do you need to talk like that around the child?”

Rachman had an immediate response, but at least in regards to his wife he had learned the art of discretion. “Well…” he started. He didn’t finish.

“Around me?” she added.

“Oh, yeah, well… “ he started again, his uncomfortable slumber not allowing him the clarity of words to fix his earlier offense, “I … had other things on my mind.”

“And your message was not very well received, Rachman.” Linda stepped into the room and the lighted revealed her tight face. Her slim angular features belied her age but her anger was well represented. “Why did you bring her here, Rachman?”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged a question.

“Allison,” she explained. “If all you are going to do is treat her like a damn inconvenience then why did you bring her here at all?”

“She was for you,” he dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. Not in the mood for this now.

“Then every time you disrespect her, you disrespect me.”

Rachman gazed at his wife intensely for a moment. They had once loved one another. Her pursed lips were the same ones he had lived to kiss so many years ago. Her piercing eyes had once looked on him with tenderness. The thousand angry retorts that were working their way through his mind were discarded. He softened and looked away.

“Massud Ramad was killed in an accident.” He fell back into the chair, feeling genuinely tired for the first time in long time. “I think I know who was involved but I’m a ‘desk’ now. Another fat man in the office. I am out of the loop.”

Linda snorted softly. She’d seen this self-pity game before. “So this circumstance allows you to send Allison to me with these dirty, unnecessary words?!”

“She’s a damn toy, Linda!” he couldn’t stop himself, it came from somewhere inside where this argument had been fought too long in solitude. “A fuc… a robot! Dammit! Why can’t you…”

“Don’t you dare insult me. You think I don’t know that,” she stepped inside the study and slammed the door behind. “How dare you yell those words.” She continued in a hushed tone, “What does it matter if she is flesh or not? She feels the sting of your words the same!”

“Ohhh… not now!” Rachman groaned and waved her away. “Don’t I have enough to think about already without worrying about the fucking Mecha?!”

“I will not allow you to damage her, Rachamn. Nor will I allow you to take me down whatever disintegrating path you have chosen to follow! This is still our house and as long as we share it you will respect…”

“Message” a business-like feminine voice interrupted. “Would you care to hear or read this incoming…”

“Wait!” he ordered. The computer stopped. He turned to his wife and thrust his finger up to silence her. “You are not the only one who deserves respect, Linda. I do not want the… Allison in my study anymore. And if you do not want her exposed to my language then keep her away from my workplaces. Now I have business to attend to.”

Linda stood her ground a moment, but then surrendered with a heated exit. The phone call she’d meant to mention forgotten in the heat of their confrontation. Or perhaps omitted. Later, she would not be sure.

“Read, “ Rachman ordered his net-home module.

“Received today, 8:15 am, source: Department of Transportation Crash Investigation Home, general query box. Message: Please respond to attached address with a secure message link. Any response sent here will be ignored.”

Rachman felt a surge of excitement. It had obviously been sent from the general query box to avoid scrutiny. This must be what he was waiting for.

“Respond to the attached address with a secured link,” Rachman order the machine. Then he resigned himself to waiting some more.

-2-

It was just on the outskirts of the security gates that the girl saw the thing in the trees. She walked here often during the daytime when it was safe. The path wound around the perimeter and then down near the old restricted field and back to the main gate. It was at the back end of the private road, just across the highway from the closed field that she saw the thing. It must be one of the old broken robots that the vags used for a while and then discarded. They were usually pretty old models and their ‘skin’ was usually worn and missing in places. The unlicensed ones ran and hid in the forest. Curious, she walked from the trail to see what kind of robot it had been. She’d heard about the Flesh Fair that got sued and had to shut down. There were other similar shows around but they’d never been as successful.

But there was no law against destroying unlicensed Mecha.

This one didn’t look that old. She parted the brush to get a better look.

Then she saw the swastika burnt into the bald head.

Then the blood.

Then she ran.

-3-

The setting wasn’t as grim as he’d expected. A firm breeze played across the top of the hill and low hanging clouds drifted over them, cutting out the sun for brief periods and then letting its rays through again to cast an ethereal light on the proceedings. A small and growing crowd had gathered at the foot of the hill for the ceremony. They were representatives and businessmen from all the major and minor districts. Massud had been a well respected and well hated man. Parties from both sides of that sentiment were represented here.

Davich eyed the dark clad, whispering crowd. He saw the usual suspects. There was Olmier from the council and his little Mecha minion. Pratt and Scott Riley were there too. International traders. Knee deep in the muck that had probably got Massud killed. And there were other familiar faces. Davich registered them all and he also knew that they were watching him too. Somewhere here, he was sure that someone was taking notes on them all. Some anonymous face with perhaps an electronic brain was gathering data for the investigation.

“Mr. Davich?” came a soft Indian voice beside him.

He turned to see a short dark skinned, robed woman. “Ms Ramad, It’s good to see you again, though I wish under better circumstances.“ He cupped the old woman’s tender hand in his own and touched it to his forehead. “Massud was a good man. I called him a friend. I respected him.”

The small aged woman smiled and nodded her appreciation of his expressed sympathy. “Mariane has said many good things about you,” she smiled, her old eyes burning into his own. “She cannot be here for the ceremony, but did not want us to wait for her recovery. Massud must rest.”

Davich nodded his understanding.

Her eyes scanned his face. “Have you… uh… found anything?”

He gathered his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Ms. Ramad, I cannot officially investigate your son’s death,” he said, a disappointed apology in his voice. ”I’m not in that department anymore. But I can guarantee you that I will not let any stone remain unturned. There are many…” Davich stopped short as he could not believe what he was seeing.

“Hello, Rachman, Ms Ramad,” Harland Grainer said as he approached them. His shark black eyes flicked back and forth between them, pinpoints against his pale features. Behind him two expensive looking Mecha wore dark suits and serious expressions as they waited for their owner’s bidding. “Let me express my deepest sympathy for you son’s untimely departure,” Grainer said smoothly and reached out to cup the small robed woman’s hand. Davich realized that she didn’t know who Grainer was. She couldn’t know, for she returned his gesture with a warm smile and expressed her gratitude. Davich sneered but kept his tongue. He knew that this was not the time or place. Grainer touched the woman’s small hand to his forehead as was the custom, and then stepped to Davich.

“And Davich, I know we’ve started off on the wrong foot in the aftermath of this unfortunate situation, but I am sure that we can work things out.” his smile was so superficially sincere that Davich wanted to rip it right off his face. But instead he fixed the man with a knowing glare. Grainer suffered the silence for a moment and then smiled.

“Maybe some other time then,” he said and walked away towards the foot of the hill.

“You should be wary of that man, Ms Ramad,” Davich warned in a whisper as the trio walked away. But the old woman silenced him with a hand on his arm. She smiled a knowing expression and Davich realized he had been wrong. This woman knew exactly who Grainer was.

“My son had many enemies, Rachman. Some overt. Most not. I can play that game too.” She smiled and winked. Then her face grew serious again. “My daughter in law has told you what she saw that night?”

Davich felt uncomfortable. He nodded slowly.

“And?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. “I am looking into it, “ was what he settled on.

“Find them Rachman,” she said and squeezed his hand with a grip that surprised him. “Whoever they are. Make sure they find the bastards who killed my Massud.”

Then the ceremony began. Each concerned party shared their words at the podium and then Massud’s ashes were set to the breeze. The wind had kicked up suddenly. They didn’t even need the simulators. Massud would be happy about that.

-4-

“It was a map.”

“A map?”

The voice on the other end made a sigh. “Yeah, a map. A chip with all the updated autopilot codes on it. That’s it, that’s all that was missing.”

Davich didn’t buy that. “Why only that?”

“I don’t know. That’s your job.”

Technically it wasn’t, but Davich wasn’t going to go there.

“Why would someone go to such trouble to get a map? Are these exclusive?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously,” the voice was testy. “They’re the updates for the ‘lockups’.” That was slang for the gated communities the wealthy inhabited.

“All of ‘em?”

“Every damn one.”

Davich grimaced inside as the first piece of evidence against Grainer’s involvement was relayed to him. It was possible that whoever had caused the car to crash was after that chip. They would have to have known that Massud would have one though, right? But it was obvious that he lived in a lockup, but would it be a safe assumption that he’d have an exclusive update on all of them? Yes… and no.

“Fuck!” he said.

“Sir?”

“Nothing. Thanks, and if anything else comes up… eh?”

The voice at the other end said nothing, but Davich thought he heard a sigh.

-5-

Spacer was glad to see him. “You’re not going to believe this,” she started as he rushed through the busy precinct and into his office. She’d just received a field update and there had been something found that he should know about.

Davich held up a hand that told her to wait. “I might believe it, whatever it is, but I want to find out later. I need some things analyzed, Eileen, can you get me someone off the roster?”

“Eileen?” she repeated, unfamiliar with such familiarities from him.

“Sorry… went to a funeral today… feeling a little sentimental. But I need to have some crash debris studied.”

Spacer pursed her lips and shook her head. “Boss, what are you getting yourself into? Do you have evidence from the site?”

“Don’t worry about me Spacer! I’ve been in this situation before. I can play the ropes when I have to. Grainer is involved in this shit somehow. I know that. I just don’t know how yet.”

Spacer eyed him cautiously. He needed to step back. She waited for his next move.

But before it came Terrance Portnoy walked into the room. They stared at him as if he was an apparition.

“Rachman. Lt Spacer.” He nodded at them. “Good to see you both,” the chief smiled casually. “Capt, Davich... uh… can I talk to you alone?”

Spacer glanced at Davich and excused herself. Her information could wait. She didn’t want to be here when the shit hit the fan anyway.

When Spacer was gone Davich started uncomfortably. “Terrance, I don’t know why you came all the way down here but I have not…”

“No, no, no…” the Chief stopped him with an upraised hand. “I did some thinking and I have made a few changes of plan.” He closed the door and cleared his throat. “I’ve been around…” Terrance waved a hand between them, “we’ve been around for a long time. We know what goes on. But this… this is a new low, Rachman. Don’t think I am not aware and concerned about the issues you raised. And believe me, I want you on this. But, old friend, the fact that you knew that man and the fact that you are not in investigations anymore puts you out of the loop. But I trust you. We both know how important trust is, don’t we?”

Davich didn’t respond. What was Terrance getting at?

“I can’t put you on this, pure and simple. But I know you’ve been picking around, Davich… and before you start denying it, I don’t care. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I grabbed the investigation. I took it from the locals. It’s the State’s now.”

“If I am not on it, how does that matter to me?”

“Well, I want you to meet someone, Davich. Someone I know we can trust. Someone who won’t get distracted by any ‘offers’ he may receive.” Terrance walked to the door. He opened it and gestured to someone outside the room. “It’s someone that I want you to supervise in the investigation. Someone a little unorthodox, perhaps. But a quick learner and most of all, dedicated.”

A dark haired young man walked briskly into the room. Trim in his dark suit. Medium height. Shorter than Davich. His features smooth, sharp eyes catching everything, it seemed. Then they alighted on Davich and seemed to take him in all at once.

“Davich,” Terrance smiled, ”this is Investigator Erik Tigue. Erik, this is Captain Rachman Davich and you will be answering directly to him from now on.”

“Hello, Captain,” the young man said quickly, his hand outstretched. “I am looking forward to working with you and learning whatever I can from your years of experience.”

Rachman felt that grip, looked into those too-alert eyes and finally realized what was going on.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Not exactly appropriate language, Erik thought. He stored the captain’s apparent propensity for vulgarities into a profile update. Then he finished the gesture of familiarity and executed ‘disarming smile’ and ‘patient stance’ until the ‘shock’ in the Captain’s face lessened.