Debbie felt her head begin to spin and for a moment she thought she would
collapse, pass out sprawling on the floor. Instead she leaned forward
carefully placing her face into her palms, elbows stabbing into her thighs.
“I am truly sorry” the stocky woman was saying, sounding not only genuinely
regretful but also at a loss for words. Debbie felt utterly lost, utterly
alone and abandoned, not to mention the searing waves of guilt and shame that
were assaulting her because this had happened while she was…. She drew in a
deep breath and struggled to get a grip on herself. Finally she straightened
up, willing herself to think logically and clearly. “How would this….
individual… have even known about my Jex” she said, her voice cold and
venomous. The stocky woman considered the question for a moment, nodded
slowly, as if impressed. “We’ve thought about that” she said, resuming her
pacing. “We can’t be sure, but we believe there is a black market network in
such things. Pilots who want such merchandise make it known they are willing
to pay well for quality items. Word spreads. Those in a position to make them
available, who deal with them on a regular basis and know the systems, manage
to see that they fall through the gaps and disappear. They are then delivered
secretly to the purchaser, just before they depart.” “So it was an inside
job” Debbie said quietly. The stocky woman stopped pacing and turned to look
at her, puzzled. “I’m sorry?” she said, clearly not understanding the phrase.
Debbie shook herself, chided herself for losing focus and glared at the
stocky woman. “It was someone that my Jex would have been in the hands of
normally” she said, her voice even. “Oh” the stocky woman said, nodding “Yes.
We’ve narrowed it down to three moments it could have occurred. During the
initial quarantine examination, during transport to the storage area or while
he was in storage.” “And what” Debbie said, her tone now cold “are you doing
about finding when exactly it did occur.” “Well’ the stocky woman sighed “we
are conducting inquiries at the storage facility, but the staff who were
working that cycle here at the examination facility are not on duty at the
present time.” “Why don’t you go to their dwellings and talk to them” Debbie
said, feeling her impatience beginning to rise. The stocky woman looked
uncomfortable once more. “We have tried that. But they seem not to be
available.” “And what does that mean” Debbie said coldly. “It is quite common
for staff to go off world when they are not on duty. That particular shift of
workers had a macrocycle of leisure time which began soon after you arrived.
We will have to wait until they return before we can question them.” “And
when will that be” Debbie said, her tone now icy. The stocky woman’s eyes
took on a look of pain. “Not for another four marcocycles, I’m afraid” she
said quietly. Debbie did the translation in her mind…. About three months. A
wave of despair rolled through her and she slumped in the seat. “Is there….
Anyone we can contact for you” the stocky woman was saying quietly,
sympathetically. “Someone from your house we should contact.” Debbie heard
the statement but it didn’t register for a long moment. Then it slowly
occurred to her what she was hearing and what it meant. She was dealing with
a law enforcement official, and it was endemic in that breed that they take
certain steps in any investigative process. One of those might very well
involve seeing to the needs of the victim, and that might include contacting
friends or relatives to come care for the victim’s needs. And if that should
happen… if someone who knew Jem Alaasha were to suddenly appear here…. Debbie
looked up sharply. “No” she said, a bit too harshly, catching herself, then
continuing more calmly. “I can see to myself.” She rose suddenly, amazed to
find her feet so firm and steady when she was sure they would be trembling
and weak. “It appears” she said firmly “that I will have to find
accommodations here until we can get this entire mess sorted out. In the
meanwhile, I expect you do make every effort to locate and question anyone
who might possibly know anything about the theft of my property. And to see
to their punishment.” “Of course” the stocky woman said, solicitously. “I
shall contact you for complete progress reports every cycle until this matter
is resolved” Debbie said. “For now, I have things I must do.” “Certainly, Jem
Alaasha” the stocky woman said, bowing her head politely. Debbie spun on her
heels and strode to the archway, stepping straight out through it into the
bustling concourse, suddenly engulfed in the noise and bustle of the busy
terminal. She stopped, feeling a weak, light-headedness overwhelming her but
she strained to focus, drew herself up, turned and joined the flow of beings
moving through the terminal. She did not see that behind her the stocky woman
was watching her closely with narrowed eyes through an area of the wall which
she had made opaque. Now why, the Internal Security Officer was wondering,
would she have taken the news of such an insulting affront so calmly, she was
wondering. And why did she not scream and threaten about her powerful family
and all the horrors it could call down upon everyone involved in this
shameful affair. Most of all, why had she not instantly demanded to contact
her House and tap into its considerable power and influence. Curious. And
strange. And almost… yes… almost suspicious.