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Chapter 6: If Love is a Battlefield - Life is War.

'Morning Ab's, so where's my bagel?'

Abby turned from where she sat crouched over a slumped object, half propped up against one of the Warehouses pillars.

'I ate it.'

'What?' I frowned indignantly as I walked up to her. 'I'm not even late!'

'Whats our one rule Brakeman?' Abby stood up, crossed her arms and gazed haughtily at me.

'In what context?' I replied innocently, 'I'm pretty sure we have more than one rule. I mean 'no stealing each other's food' is a pretty important one... and 'no puns before 9am', or 'no gambling with each other's freedom' after that episode on Thespa...

'Whats our one relationship rule Brakeman?'

I scuffed my foot on the concrete. 'No ex's...'

Abby didn't move, she just fixed with that withering glare.

'Look it's not my fault you banged the hottest woman on the station is it? I mean it barely even counts as a relationship...' An image of what that relationship between Abby and Kelly could have looked like floated serenely through my brain, and rendered me understandably distracted for a moment. 'And anyway you broke that rule already.'

'Tina? Jeeesh, Brakeman, she barely even touched you...'

'Yeah? Well, she was going to, wasn't she? Before you waved your gay magic wand over her...' I wandered around the small, increasingly angry, figure of my partner and stuck my hands in my pockets as I looked down. 'What happened to her?'

Abby followed my eyes down to the body of a woman in her early thirties at my feet, wearing blue jeans and a tank top. 'She died.'

'Don't be so obtuse.'

'That's a big word for you. Can you even spell it?'

'Fuck off.'

Abby folded her arms but relented. 'She was shot in the head, close range, flechette round.' Hardly surprising, on a space station like Stratton you couldn't use normal bullets. The threat of explosive decompression tends to put people off - Flechette rounds were heavier, larger and consequently much slower than atmospheric bullets, leaving little chance they'd pierce something they weren't supposed to. Sure made a hell of a mess of people though. There wasn't much left of the woman's face to identify her.

I knelt down. 'A bit Alien?'

Abby nodded. 'Like the others.' This was the third body that had been found in the last week on station. No wonder Vance was getting tetchy.

I looked at the limp body. Even in a seasoned mercenary like me, a slit pang of pity rattled around my empty ribcage. 'Well, I suppose that makes things easier. Time to go visit some racists.'

Abby cracked the slightest smile. 'The Eagle?'

I nodded. 'The Eagle.'

We headed out, clattering down the stairs back to the chamber below where Jen and her squad were waiting. 'All finished?' The Lieutenant asked primly as we rejoined her. 'Can the real detectives look now?'

'Sure, where are they?' Abby quipped, flashing a chin.

Jen sighed. 'Get up there' she said to her men, two of them setting off upstairs and glaring daggers at the both of us. 'And you two. Tell Vance I want a raise.'

'A raise? For what?' Abby replied frowning.

Jen laughed dryly. 'There's a Martain Gunship in the port. As soon as they get wind of this, they're guna be crawling all over my business - Vance owes me. You know how this works, I scratch your back you scratch mine. And my backs getting mighty itchy these days.'

Abby nodded curtly. 'I'll pass it on.' That meant no. Jen folded her arms and watched us leave, the same smirk omnipresent on her lips.