Justice
By Kurun t’Gath
Translated from the Kashlanin
(99.3% accuracy)
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  morgdl


Two.



Rekkadh wasn’t a very large city, and the Constabulary post reflected that. The station was of standard construction, with most of the facility underground and a [two-D] portrait of the Sovereign Lord in the reception area. Despite the small size of the Constabulary detachment, the station was fully equipped, including a holographic simulator chamber.

Sergeant Zhamur stood slightly behind me as I examined the scene of the crime, noting that the house had not been equipped with intruder alarms or a surveillance system. With the low crime rate in the region, the absence wasn’t unusual.

The house’s kitchen area was large, as would be expected for the family Sergeant Zhamur described. Broad windows were oriented east and south, with appliances and food preparation areas on the north and the entrance to the dining area to the west. The victim, dressed in a robe, had been discovered lying face down in the middle of the floor between the oven and the windows on the east and with his head oriented to the south. Blood had seeped into his neck fur and oozed out onto the floor beneath him. His tail was tangled around his legs.

The simulacrum overlaid lines and numbers to show exact distances, as well as captioning the body with his name and other details. Yifan g’Zherin, birth-family name Dhavar, male, age 127, height and weight appropriate for a Person his age. A puncture wound was located at the base of his skull, with circles superimposed at three places on the floor to show where blood had been found.

I crouched beside the image of the corpse and gestured. The display rendered g’Zherin-sir’s body transparent to show the depth of the wound and the shape of the murder weapon. That it was a bladed stabbing weapon was beyond doubt. It was double-edged, very thin and had penetrated only far enough to sever the spinal nerve trunk. The drops of blood were his and showed that he succeeded in taking at least two steps before collapsing.

There was a possibility that his tail had wound around his legs involuntarily.

I stood and drew my hands close from shoulder-width, and the room contracted around me to show its relationship to the other rooms in the home. Sleeping quarters were located upstairs, one for each member of the marriage, with interconnecting doors and a shared [bathing/excretion facility]. “Sergeant,” I asked, “has the murder weapon been found?”

“Captain . . . “ She hesitated, and I guessed that she was feeling regret at not having found the weapon. I glanced at her and my tail moved in a reassuring gesture. The sergeant said, “It has not been found, Captain.”

Another gesture from me, and the house contracted further to show the grounds and adjoining homes. “How far did the search extend?”

“Constables searched out to one hundred [meter-equivalents] from the house,” she replied. “Drones were employed for another two hundred [meter-equivalents].”

“Very good.” I expanded the house again until we stood in the kitchen. A keyboard appeared in midair and I had it display deeper scans. Any residual body heat left on the floor or in the air by the assailant had dissipated before the body had been found. Housekeeping drones had cleaned the floors before the murder, and the only footprints had belonged to the victim.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Two cycles of sleep had not been enough, but I have been awake an entire day before. There is always an exchange, naturally, and I could expect a decrease in performance until I got enough sleep.

I closed the simulacrum and stood up, stretching. “Are you well, Captain?” Zhamur asked.

“Yes.” My tail swished, the tailspur clicking against the floor. “Notify the main Constabulary office and tell them that I am asking for a restriction to be placed on any off-planet travel.” She gestured comprehension and I added, “Any Person seeking to go off-planet from this area is to be detained and their activities investigated before being allowed to leave.”

“Understood, Sir.” She smiled. “There is a [hostel] nearby, if you wish to get some rest.”

I smiled. “Excellent. I will speak with you in the morning before I go to speak to the victim’s family.”

“We have recorded statements, and those were uploaded to your padd.”

“Very good. I will read and listen to them tonight.” I led her out of the simulator and said, “We do not have a subject, nor do we have the murder weapon,” I said, “and we must discover what motivated the murderer.”

“Of course,” Sergeant Zhamur said. “A vehicle has been assigned to you for the duration of your stay here.”

“Hm. Thank you[sincere].” I picked up my suitcase and went to the parking area.


***


The two-seat ground vehicle was not a new model, but serviceable and comfortable. Like all Constabulary vehicles, the [shell/body] was white with a brown and [light blue danger-symbology] stripe. Made locally, it was quiet and fast, and I reached the [hostel] in good time.

In contrast, the room supplied by the [hostel] was made of stone and native hardwood, with the room’s amenities unobtrusive but modern. It was small but would serve my purpose well. I did not require either ostentation or luxury to complete my assignment. After unpacking I accessed the [hostel]’s dining facility and ordered a meal.

I thought about the case while eating my meal. The weapon had been very small and the wound it made had been very precise. Those two facts alone should narrow the list of possible suspects. I would need to question the family about those with military training.

After the meal, I sent a message to Yezhim to [reassure] him that I had arrived safely. He worries at times, and once I had sent the message I set my [personal access device] to awaken me at the first cycle.


***


[Powers], a good sleep helped me feel much better, and I finished firstmeal and bathed. After I dressed I took a band of [saffron yellow] ribbon from my suitcase and studied it for a moment.

Yifan g’Zherin had died violently; not in war or by accident, but by murder. The People have a strong sense of community, and the [thought/concept] that someone had murdered another offended that community. As a Constabulary officer, I represent the community and therefore I felt that offense keenly. I kept my anger close, suppressed by my training and office, knowing that I had a duty and an obligation to find who killed him, and why.

And, I thought as I wrapped the ribbon around my left wrist, whether or not the family observed the traditional rites, I would wear the [mourning-band] to honor the dead.





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