alone polishing his assault rifle with what looked like a handkerchief. As we approached, I smiled at him with as much friendliness as I could muster. "I didn't know people still used those."
"What?" He stuck the rag through one of the metal rings on the top of his gun.
"Your handkerchief, why do you carry one?"
My attempt at light conversation failed. The man sat up straight so we were eye to eye. "Who wants to know?"
Rake stepped between us, forcing him to lean away. "We do, and your lack of cooperation is being noted."
I patted Rake on the side, still looking at the guard. "I apologize if I offended you. I only meant that since we eliminated the cold viruses, I wasn't sure why you needed it. If it's alright with you, we would like to ask you a few less personal questions?"
His eyes stuck to Rake as he answered. "My mother gave it me. I just use it for cleaning things is all."
I nodded. "And can you tell us what happened here last night?"
"Not really." His tone passed from belligerence to uncertainty, as if he didn't understand the question. "No one knows. One minute it's just the same old boring everyday stuff, and then there are alarms and explosions going off all over the place, and everyone is running around like we're at war. Huxley got shot. Tiresh and Gosler were both knocked unconscious. I've never seen anything like it."
"Are they alive?" I asked.
He nodded. "Huxley's not doing well."
I didn't have time to console him, and Rake wouldn't allow it if I did. "And what about before the alarms and the explosions, walk me through the boring stuff. Were you in the station the whole time?"
His head fell forward. "No one came through here, not unless they were invisible."
"So what did happen?" Rake said.
The guard's posture stiffened, daring us to push him further. "I'm not authorized to share that information with you."
I put a hand on Rake's arm to stop the outburst of abuse that was moments away. "I know you're tired. We're all tired, but right now you're obstructing justice. Someone else around here is going to tell us what happened, and that leaves you one nil down and unable to recover."
"Nothing happened last night," he said again.
I ushered Rake to remain silent. "We don't want a fight. I'm sure you did everything you were instructed last night. Whoever planned this knew what they were doing. But Clazran won't see it like that. As far as he's concerned, you failed to protect a Guardian, and that doesn't bode well for anyone." I offered him a sympathetic smile. "You have a family, soldier?"
"A wife."
I nodded sympathetically. "If we don't find the killer soon, you'll find yourself relocated to some backwater station in the Gargantua or the Drys where she wouldn't want to follow you if she could."
The blood retreated from his skin. For a moment longer he was silent, but as he swallowed, a melon sunk down his throat. "Kenrey liked little girls," he said, as if he was forcing the words past a barrier. "There was one with him last night when he was killed. He orders them from somewhere, and they come through here all dressed up in hoods and cloaks so that they look like piles of laundry.
He looked suddenly on the verge of tears, as if a chronic wound had finally healed. "Because we're not supposed to know how young they are. Some of the younger ones come in wearing high heels, but they're all blind as burrow lizards so you can always tell if they've been made to look bigger because they stumble all over the place." His voice was a low whisper, and his eyes darted from guard to guard. "This was one of those. She's upstairs now, little tiny thing, probably hasn't stopped crying since it happened."
Rake looked as if someone had shown him a picture of his own corpse. Before I could exhale, his fists wrapped around the guard's neck as if controlled independently from his body. "You're telling me you let that steaming pile of–"
"Philip!" I shouted over his confessions of hatred, wrestling his hands away
"What?" He stuck the rag through one of the metal rings on the top of his gun.
"Your handkerchief, why do you carry one?"
My attempt at light conversation failed. The man sat up straight so we were eye to eye. "Who wants to know?"
Rake stepped between us, forcing him to lean away. "We do, and your lack of cooperation is being noted."
I patted Rake on the side, still looking at the guard. "I apologize if I offended you. I only meant that since we eliminated the cold viruses, I wasn't sure why you needed it. If it's alright with you, we would like to ask you a few less personal questions?"
His eyes stuck to Rake as he answered. "My mother gave it me. I just use it for cleaning things is all."
I nodded. "And can you tell us what happened here last night?"
"Not really." His tone passed from belligerence to uncertainty, as if he didn't understand the question. "No one knows. One minute it's just the same old boring everyday stuff, and then there are alarms and explosions going off all over the place, and everyone is running around like we're at war. Huxley got shot. Tiresh and Gosler were both knocked unconscious. I've never seen anything like it."
"Are they alive?" I asked.
He nodded. "Huxley's not doing well."
I didn't have time to console him, and Rake wouldn't allow it if I did. "And what about before the alarms and the explosions, walk me through the boring stuff. Were you in the station the whole time?"
His head fell forward. "No one came through here, not unless they were invisible."
"So what did happen?" Rake said.
The guard's posture stiffened, daring us to push him further. "I'm not authorized to share that information with you."
I put a hand on Rake's arm to stop the outburst of abuse that was moments away. "I know you're tired. We're all tired, but right now you're obstructing justice. Someone else around here is going to tell us what happened, and that leaves you one nil down and unable to recover."
"Nothing happened last night," he said again.
I ushered Rake to remain silent. "We don't want a fight. I'm sure you did everything you were instructed last night. Whoever planned this knew what they were doing. But Clazran won't see it like that. As far as he's concerned, you failed to protect a Guardian, and that doesn't bode well for anyone." I offered him a sympathetic smile. "You have a family, soldier?"
"A wife."
I nodded sympathetically. "If we don't find the killer soon, you'll find yourself relocated to some backwater station in the Gargantua or the Drys where she wouldn't want to follow you if she could."
The blood retreated from his skin. For a moment longer he was silent, but as he swallowed, a melon sunk down his throat. "Kenrey liked little girls," he said, as if he was forcing the words past a barrier. "There was one with him last night when he was killed. He orders them from somewhere, and they come through here all dressed up in hoods and cloaks so that they look like piles of laundry.
He looked suddenly on the verge of tears, as if a chronic wound had finally healed. "Because we're not supposed to know how young they are. Some of the younger ones come in wearing high heels, but they're all blind as burrow lizards so you can always tell if they've been made to look bigger because they stumble all over the place." His voice was a low whisper, and his eyes darted from guard to guard. "This was one of those. She's upstairs now, little tiny thing, probably hasn't stopped crying since it happened."
Rake looked as if someone had shown him a picture of his own corpse. Before I could exhale, his fists wrapped around the guard's neck as if controlled independently from his body. "You're telling me you let that steaming pile of–"
"Philip!" I shouted over his confessions of hatred, wrestling his hands away
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