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The azure Buliseye vehicle mounted the wide promenade beside the Dehors canal and came to an abrupt halt. Atop its roof yellow and red lights flashed intermittently, casting colourful reflections on the rippling water and playing on the faces of passers by who stopped to stare. One of the doors slid back and a slightly overweight Yahanan climbed down onto the sandstone pavement. Commander Maret Kovalis surveyed the scene before him. A small crowd had gathered around two matt black Surti vehicles that were blocking the entrance of a broad alleyway. A white ambulance was parked to one side. Its rear ramp was down and two cas-evac medics were hanging out of the back, watching the crowd passively. Kovalis made his way through the crowd, the paramedics following him. He quickened his pace as the Buliseye spotted a couple of journalists and a news crew in the throng. He purposefully avoided eye contact with them. He had no intention of acknowledging or answering their questions. Nevertheless he heard them, shouting. 'Any developments in the investigation, Commander?' 'Do you think this is the work of the Wasi?' 'What are you doing to catch Nemo?' Kovalis snorted and kept moving. Nemo! He hated all this publicity, particularly as he had become a minor celebrity as a result. As if this case didn't have enough problems as it was. Nemo! The media had coined the name, of course. Each of the eleven bodies so far all shared one common aspect - no cause of death. No modus operandi. Reaching the Scene of Crime Officer, Kovalis stopped and addressed him: 'The same?' 'Yes, Commander.' the Soco's ID badge displayed over his left breast read 'Loxis'. Kovalis squatted beside the body bag. 'So, what do we have?' Loxis started listing his findings: identity of the victim, occupation, time of death, and so on. Kovalis took in his surroundings. The alley was a dead end, with buildings on either side. To the left was an apartment building. One service door gave access onto the alley, where several large and grubby recycler bins stood. 'No wounds; no puncture marks we can find; no displacement of or damage to the internal organs; no broken or fractured bones; no sign of poison; no burns. Nothing to indicate cause of death,' Loxis continued. 'Cranial analysis reveals a microscopic amount of a crystalline substance.' This was the one fact kept back from the press. In each case, the victim's head or headwear contained these miniscule amounts of tiny quartz-like crystals. Forensics was baffled. He turned, looking for the cas-evac paramedics. The two females clad in blue were loitering a few yards away. He indicated that they could now remove the corpse and took the Soco disk from the Surti officer. He reached the sanctuary of his vehicle and slipped the disk into the onboard computer. 'Scene Of Crime Observations,' announced a guttural male voice. 'Chemical analysis reveals nothing outside normal parameters. Infrared: information on fingerprint and foot print log currently processing. Analysis of faeces under the recycler bins prove to be that of a dune rat...' 'Enough,' hissed Kovalis. Every Soco was the same. Inconclusive, unhelpful and frustrating. The killer must be able to fly! The blood red sun was now climbing to its zenith in the sky exacerbating the slight headache the Buliseye already had. Irritated, he slammed the vehicle into gear and pulled back onto the canal, lights flashing. He just hoped that this one was different. Perhaps the freshness of the corpse would prove beneficial. He grimaced. He was beginning to sound like a tomb robber. Officer Brakis stared at the Cufic opposite him. All four were seated in the back of the Surti craft as it moved through the canals of Dar-Es-Buraq. Rarely had he seen such genetic deformities. The worst things about them were their fingers. They had five. Five! And hair. Some Yahanans did have hair, but most preferred to shave their heads because of the heat. The two males had hair on their faces. Like animals. Brakis shuddered a little. 'Penny for them, Officer Brakis?' asked the hairier of the two males. At least he had a vaguely normal body shape. The other two looked half-starved; they were so thin. 'Remain silent,' Brakis growled. 'Hard day?' the hairier one persisted. 'You dare defy a Yahanan Surti Officer?' 'I just thought a little chat would help to pass the time.' Brakis struck the Cufic across the face, throwing him to the floor. 'Oi!' shouted the other male, moving suddenly from his seat, despite the apparent damage to one of his legs. Before Brakis could react he had a blade at his throat. The Cufic had been carrying no weapons. He himself had checked! 'You do anything like that again and this ship will be redecorated in an interesting new colour called hint of alien.' 'I didn't know you had a knife, Nathan,' said the hairier male. Hakim, wasn't it? 'Do me a favour, Doctor!' said the male with yellow hair. 'You just gave it to me.' Hakim looked blank. 'The one the in your trick walking stick… remember?' 'Forget it,' said the female. 'He's not all there.' 'Okay, toad face,' said the smaller male. It took a couple of seconds for Brakis to realise that the Cufic was addressing him. Toad face? Half of what they said meant nothing to the Yahanan. 'Tell the pilot to land. Now!' 'This is a very foolish course of action, Cufic,' Brakis hissed. 'Maybe to you,' said yellow. 'Do it.' Yellow forced the knife a little deeper into the Yahanan's thickset neck. Brakis could sense that his assailant was uncomfortable with the weapon, but he was not about to risk his life for a few Cufic. 'I will need to operate the communicator,' he said. 'The cabin we are in is isolated from the flight deck to prevent any possibility of hijack.' The irony was not lost on the Yahanan, but the moment yellow released him, Brakis would kill him anyway. As the Cufic stepped away from him, though, Brakis saw that he had taken the sidearm from the Yahanan's belt. Keeping the weapon pointed at Brakis, yellow gave the blade to the female who replaced in the black stick. Resigned to the situation, Brakis activated the small communicator on the bulkhead and told the pilot to land. The craft slowed and, with a shhhhhh of the keel touching water, came to a halt. There was a humming sound as it manoeuvred to the sidewalk and then a diminishing whine as the engines powered down. The female opened the hatch and ushered the hairier one on to the pavement outside. Yellow backed slowly away from Brakis, weapon still levelled at him. 'Don't kill him, Nick,' said the female from the hatchway. 'I don't need to kill you, do I?' asked the Cufic who seemed to possess many names. 'You won't do anything stupid, will you?' Brakis stared back. Killing him wouldn't be stupid. It would be a mercy. As 'Nick' reached the hatch, he faltered as he felt the step with the back of his good foot and the female started to help him through. Brakis made his move. 'Nick!' shouted the female. Yellow fell backwards out of the ship, but managed to discharge the weapon as he did so. Brakis threw himself aside as the communicator exploded behind him. When he looked up the three Cufic had disappeared into the throng of shoppers and traders that lined the canal.
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