Ball of Silence

Ball of Silence - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

         I spend the following morning asking around in person for cargo, without success. Then I wait for Sina to wake up. According to the Voice's log, she returned from the space bender's bar at four in the morning.

At noon, she emerges from her room and gives me a list of when and where space benders have been assassinated during the past five months. We sit over dirty lunch plates in the mess hall. I study the list and freeze.

         "What?" she asks.

         Nine standard weeks ago, the space bender Gil Hinks was killed on Celam's space station. Someone throttled him with a garrote in a corridor between his ship and the space bender's bar at five in the morning.

         "I checked station logs last night. I don't know yet how long Blan Friscus stayed at Celam, but he left it seven weeks ago. Then he stayed on Kishlam's station for a month before he came here three standard weeks ago. He could have been on Celam during the time of Gil Hinks's killing."

         "Damn," Flin says while collecting our dirty plates in a loud clatter.

He generally tries to subdue the noise he makes in my presence, but it exceeds his imagination that collecting dishes and putting them into a dishwasher could bother me. After ten years, he still doesn't understand, and I have given up trying to teach him. I forgive him any noise associated with his excellent cooking.

         Sina shakes her head. "Jaiah, that proves nothing."

         "I know. But it's a fact."

         "If Blan was an assassin, wouldn't he travel with a bunch of fake identities? That's what I'd do, if I were an assassin," she says.

         I frown as I think about it. "Yeah, you got a point there."

         Sina suddenly squeezes a quick kiss onto my cheek.

"It's nice that you're playing detective on behalf of the space benders, Jaiah. I appreciate that."

         Hell, I would like her to kiss me much more often, and in other places, too. I grin at the thought and at the same moment get an idea. Detective—oh, I can be a great detective. I can hear through walls.

         Later that day, I find out that Blan is staying in the station's cheapest hotel. I rent the cabin next to his.

         I only tell Flin about it. After our regular eleven p.m. meeting, Flin and I officially "retire," only to meet in the cargo hold ten minutes later. We sneak out of our ship and into the cabin next to Blan's unit.

         The room is tiny and dirty. Its furnishings consist of nothing but a bed, a sink, and a cabinet above the bed. Showers and restrooms are common. Flin and I sit on the two feet wide bed side by side, our backs to the wall and our legs propped against the opposite one. The room has no window. The walls are typical space station metallic gray, and smudgy plastic sheets cover the bed. Such hotel rooms have a nickname: enhanced coffins. My shoes slide slowly down the slippery wall.

The noise level is epic. Our room lies between the showers and Blan's room. Recycled water constantly gushes in the shower room. Above us, a couple moans in foreplay. How the hell do they manage to get excited on a two-foot wide bed with plastic sheets?

Below us, someone watches the Unity news.

They are broadcasting an interview with Admiral Kay Delaro, the alien expert.