Commander John Harrington stared at the crumpled remains of the M'Nean Ambassador and prayed for early retirement. Officially, he still had a month to go before the Admiralty pension he'd earned wrangling roughnecks on the Kuiper Cliffs kicked in. Then he could wave goodbye to the Blue Star Line and its constant parade of spoiled, entitled passengers. They were more trouble than a bar full of drunk chrysomite miners on a Saturday night, and a life of leisure, strolling through the vineyards of Napa every morning was becoming more attractive with every passing day.

His knee spasmed, a sudden lancing pain that reminded him of the injury that ended his career and forced him out of Admiralty Heavy ten years early. Once the pain began there would be little that would dull its effects. He lifted his foot from the floor and discreetly stretched his leg, hoping his second in command wouldn't notice. The day was shaping up to be shit already, and as Head of Security on the Laurentic he didn't even have the luxury of drinking his way through it.

"Cherkin, where are we on forensics?" He muttered. The man who'd been sent to replace him as head of the Laurentic's security detail had only been in post for three weeks, but Harrington had hated the man from the moment they'd first met. He liked to think that at his age he was above jealousy, and he certainly didn't resent having to train somebody to take over from him. Good luck to the man. No, it was Cherkin's easy charm and movie idol good looks that made Harrington want to punch him in the face. There was something off about the man, and Harrington didn't like it.

"Well, Commander," the Lieutenant was consulting his data pad like an officious little prick. "The knife is definitely Admiralty issue. Most branches don't bother to carry them, as you know, but Regulator Branch use them as back up to their standard sidearm."

Harrington puffed out his cheeks. Something definitely smelled fishy, but in all his time with Admiralty Heavy he'd never been called on to investigate a murder. Bar fights and small time snuff dealers had been all he'd had to handle, even in a place as pumped full of testosterone as the Kuiper Cliffs.

"And the bullet?" He asked, even though he knew full well what the answer would be.

"It will require an autopsy of course." Cherkin adopted an expression of regret which made Harrington wonder if it was something he practiced in the mirror every day. "But my initial scan of the body suggests the projectile is also Admiralty issue. Strange thing is, the knife wound would have killed him anyway. Commander Haas had no reason to fire her weapon. Not one that makes sense anyway."

Harrington ignored Cherkin's last comment. He had more pressing matters on his mind than the Lieutenant's ability to jump to conclusions. Chief among them was the autopsy. Would the Admiralty want to conduct it, given one of their own officers was the prime suspect? Did the M'Neans even allow autopsies? Harrington would have to check with Victoria, the Laurentic's AI, and brief Captain Nagy, whose job it would be to broach the subject with the Ambassador's people.

That was headache number two. It had been several hours since the call from Commander Haas had been put through to his cabin, and they were now approaching Heshun M'oll, the main orbital station for Wennizi M'ech. A lot of their passengers would want to disembark for their own private transport to the surface. There could be witnesses among the passengers, but given how wealthy and connected some of them were, his chances of hanging on to all of them were slim, particularly as he'd also have to wrangle the delegation from the M'Nean diplomatic corps, waiting on Heshun M'oll to welcome Ambassador Sewati home. Harrington had managed to convince Captain Nagy not to contact them in advance, but once they arrived at the station the two men would have to deliver the news. One of their most respected diplomats was dead, and all the evidence was pointing to his Admiralty escort as the culprit.

At least the Admiralty would be out of Harrington's hair for the immediate future. The Laurentic and the Abilene had both been in HD space when Commander Haas had sent her alert. As a result the copy to Admiralty HQ had been queued in the Laurentic's transmission buffers. Harrington had deleted it before they returned to normal space. There was a chance that the message had also remained in the Abilene's memory, but with that ship almost certainly destroyed when the tether to the Laurentic had disengaged, Admiralty HQ would stay out of the loop until he decided otherwise. Harrington had absolutely no plans to miss his own retirement party and with any luck he could present them with a neatly wrapped up investigation before they got it in to their heads to send their own investigative team from Make Make. One month from now, whatever happened, Harrington was off the Laurentic and heading for a quiet retirement in the Napa Valley.

"Cherkin, do we have all the AVS footage yet?" He asked. "I want all our ducks in a row before the M'Neans get here."

"Victoria is collating it all now, Sir." Cherkin replied. "Your request for the Haas personnel file is still pending though," the Lieutenant's voice took on a pointed edge. His disapproval of keeping Admiralty HQ in the dark was obvious.

Harrington sighed. Cherkin did have a point. It would take a full day for a message to reach Admiralty HQ on Make Make and with no Admiralty branches between there and Wennizi M'ech it would be at least another forty eight hours before anyone who actually knew how to run a murder investigation turned up. At least if he could say the Admiralty had been alerted to the situation that might help further appease the M'Nean delegation, whilst still giving him the time he needed to tie up any loose ends.

"Fine," Harrington conceded. "Send to Admiralty HQ that Ambassador Sewati has died and the circumstances are unclear. Commander Haas has been lost overboard and is presumed deceased. Request any information about her that may be relevant to an investigation."

"Should I mention that Haas is currently our only suspect?" Cherkin was typing furiously on his data pad. That the man should relish a suspicious death on his watch came as no surprise to Harrington, and he wondered what the hell a man with Cherkin's obvious ambition was doing working for the Blue Star Line.

"I think Admiralty Legal can put two and two together and make five all on their own." Harrington replied.

"You don't think she did this?" For the first time since he'd known him Cherkin's face took on a glint of genuine emotion. Was it surprise, that Harrington wasn't yet convinced Haas had been the culprit, or was it outrage for the loss of a comrade. Officer Alvizo had been a new hire, and had reported to the Laurentic at the same time as Cherkin. Maybe the two men had known each other before this assignment.

Either way, Harrington chose not to respond to Cherkin's question. He was as keen to put this mess to bed as the Lieutenant seemed to be, but something was eating at his gut. He hadn't met Haas when she'd come on board at Sudara, the Circinian homeworld, and Regulator Branch were notoriously secretive about their agents personal lives, but Harrington had heard plenty of rumours over the past few years, mostly from the few old buddies at Admiralty Heavy he was still in contact with.

Neylan Haas, the star pirate catcher, whose standing among the Admiralty brass was only eclipsed by that of her father, Captain Simon Haas. Wither her arrest record the Commander's reputation should have been unimpeachable. But then there were the other stories. The ones he didn't like to give weight to, but which followed the Commander like vengeful ghosts from her past. There was the mother whose brilliance as a painter found its roots in madness, and the aftermath of the Procyon incident, when all the good money had been on Neylan Haas never leaving Lunar 6 rehab again.

Harrington allowed himself a weary sigh and wondered if there was any chance of persuading the Laurentic's bar staff to Irish up a coffee for him. Was it possible that Haas had been far more damaged than her superiors had realised? Could she have snapped and turned on the Ambassador, and if so why? It was unlikely he'd ever get an answer. That kind of scandal usually stayed well above the pay grade of people like him. All he knew for now was that the Admiralty had been confident enough to return Neylan Haas to active service. It was a decision Harrington suspected they would come to regret.