The space-train was only a few minutes from its destination, and Berrick shuffled the last of his notes and clippings into order. The veiled woman who shared his compartment gave him one last suspicious glance before standing. The blue skin of her forehead creased in a frown as she passed Berrick. Since leaving Yahal, he'd gotten those looks every time he handled paper—as if him departing from the net-glasses as means of viewing information was an appalling sign of psychotic behavior.

It made sense out here. Probably most people only used things like paper or any physical research to hide their actions. After all, anything done on net-glasses could be tracked back to you. He'd used them in investigations before moving back to Yahal.

The upside was no one he traveled with had a clue what he was researching. No one would be able to direct any trackers his way, to this little, mechanized colony at the edge of civilization.

Just when he'd almost decided to follow Allison, he happened across a news article mentioning a rash of murders. Which began right around the time Silvia and Halis left and ended three months ago. They wouldn't still be on the dinky asteroid colony. Probably, Allison was correct about their current location. But they had detoured to this distant outpost for a reason. He wasn't going to be caught unprepared a second time. No more surprises. No more rushing in. They had to have a weakness. He'd find it here.

He was the last passenger off the train onto the slick metal platform. Worse even than the space station, everything here was metal or plastic. The air had a stale recycled quality like someone had opened a freshly minted plastic container. The fumes burned in his lungs. Contaminant free—the air processors bragged. I'd take contaminants any day if it meant air that tasted like something other than burnt cellophane.

He couldn't imagine the elegant Silvia in her gowns and jewels walking these efficient streets. The people were clothed in what appeared to be badly fitted plastic bags. Logical attire that they programmed to heat and cool but lacking the romantic horror of the spiders. No. They hadn't come here with the hopes of residence. There was another reason.

"Hotel?" Berrick said to the driverless hover-car that zipped to stop in front of him. Relief flooded him when the door slid open. The vehicle responded to speech commands. He still felt like a crazy person talking to a car, but at least, he didn't garner any more attention from the surrounding people by rambling to an unresponsive machine.

"Rank." A mechanical voice addressed him when he sat down.

My rank or the hotel's? "Law enforcement global level, on sabbatical. Cheap and central lodging"

The vehicle lurched into motion and the metal patchwork city whizzed by. The only variations in color were in gaudy plastic and flashing lights. Berrick closed his eyes and twisted his wedding ring.

They'd lived on a place like this, him and Polly, before Marim was conceived. How Polly had wept coming to the neon city. The shock of the college had been extreme for her Yahal bred sensibilities but he'd feared the space colony would shred her. She hadn't left their apartment for two weeks but after that had squared her shoulders and endured.

How had things gone so wrong? How happy they'd both been to escape the rampant crime and drug use. Pregnant with Marim, Polly had been prone to nightmares of raising her children in what she called a 'den of thieves.' She'd clapped her hands for joy when she heard they had a chance to raise their children on Yahal. Peaceful, moral and safe, it was all they wanted. So why had his family fallen so far?

The vehicle stopped on a crowded downtown block, and Berrick clattered out of the vehicle unsure how he was supposed to pay, but the car immediately departed. The silver oval faded, becoming just another moving part in the giant machine.

Colonys like this made his queasy. No real ground beneath him just layers of metal atop an asteroid, forced into a false orbit by engines. Just space trash hanging in the void waiting to break and careen off into space no more than a meteor.

Berrick stepped inside the nearest building and heaved a sigh. Free ride. Worth every penny. This was not a hotel. This was a police station. Berrick rummaged for his badge, his fingers expecting to find it gone. The chunk of metal and leather was a symbol of him as a lawman and now that was a façade. He was a criminal and criminals don't have badges.

He'd intended to visit the station, just thought he'd get in a shower and a night's sleep first. Clearly the universe had other plans. He glanced around the room, which appeared to be four solid metal walls with three large input machines. Likely the wall behind the machines had low level officers sitting behind it.

Berrick strode over to the center display and punched in his request for information and his authorization. Then he eyed the wall for lack of anything better to occupy his time. His badge burned in his pocket but he refused to turn to its comforting familiarity. Five minutes later a circle cleared in the dark surface.

A face, not immediately identifiable as male or female, stared out. The person's bored eyes flicked over Berrick and a plastic gloved hand reached up to touch a plastic helmet.

"Where you from?" an androgynous voice said.

"Yahal. Do you have my authorization code?"

"Honorary level four clearance for crime reaching from ten months ago to three months ago."

"Not just crimes. I need access to records."

"It goes hand in hand, sir."

Berrick leaned forward. Kids. Bloody kids. No one ever taught them respect out here. "Before you take that tone, consider, you have what? A level one, maybe two clearance? I'm not even active and I get a level four in five minutes. Maybe your 'Sir' should sound a little more respectful."

The kid's face reddened. Berrick felt a twinge of pity for the little punk. But the youth's discomfort gave Berrick a wonderful opportunity. Before the young official could stumble out a response Berrick continued.

"Two things I need from you. Where's the library and where's your physical-record room."

He could see the thoughts traipsing over the kid's face. But as Berrick hoped he held his tongue. Berrick was aware that the library was no respectable place for anyone let alone law enforcement. A den of perversity, frequented by all manner of scum who didn't want their actions and proclivities seen. But that was precisely what Berrick needed, a place to research that wouldn't easily be tracked.

More importantly, so would Silvia and Halis. They hadn't come here to live so presumably there was some sort of information here and if nothing else, they would need to research where to go next. The library and its security footage were the best place to start. The spiders were too paranoid of being followed to be caught with net-glasses.

For the first time, he had a leg up on them.

***

"What do you mean, gone," Darith said. He set one hand on the spotless reception desk and glared at the skinny girl in her crisp white uniform.

"The paperwork says she was checked out, Sir." The woman leaned as far back in her chair as it would allow without tipping backwards. Her eyes darted about, presumably searching for support and she picked up a pen, wielding it like a magical object capable of making him see reason.

"Impossible," Darith said, he bent toward her. He smiled as he imagined prying her eyeballs from her skull with the pen she clutched. "My wife has no one to check her out but me and her father. Her father is off-world. So either this place is incompetent in keeping records. And Marim is in her room or it is even more incompetent and you let a stranger take my wife. And my family will have this whole place shut down."

"Sir..."

Darith growled and clenched his fist. The woman's hands lifted to her throat and pawed as her jaw silently moved.

"Girl, I am not interested in what your paperwork says. Tell me the facts. Is my wife in her room?"

The woman shook her head, the whites of her eyes large. Her nails made little scratches on her throat.

"You know this? You've seen?"

She nodded.

"Were you here when she was removed from the facility?"

She shook her head.

Darith opened his fist. The woman gasped and sputtered behind the desk. Darith waited a beat for her to still before continuing. "What name was she taken under? She did not get up and walk out."

"Your name, Sir."

Darith tasted the metallic glory of her blood and held his smile frozen on his face. If she stayed there, looking helpless, useless and defenseless, he doubted he could retrain control. Little spider voices screamed to drink her death. Kill her, eat her, show her our strength.

"Find me someone who saw her leave, or I swear, I'll burn this place down. Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

"Go."

Marim's absence didn't make sense. Halis and Silvia had not returned. He would have felt that in the dark remnants they left behind. Nor were they dead, so Berrick would not have come back. Who else had any interest in Marim? The count and countess disapproved of Marim's being held in a public institution. But it would cause a scandal to remove her like this. They would never invite scandal.

So who? And why?

Darith struck the desk with his fist.

Access to police records would be great but without Berrick, Darith had no power to investigate. He didn't even know how.

The first woman returned with another in the same crisp uniform. It was not a nurse he recognized. That was worthy of note as visiting almost daily, Darith knew all the nurses in the little ward.

"You're new," he accused before she said anything.

"Just transferred, Sir."

How long had this been in the works? How long had they been waiting to steal Marim? Who were they?

"The person who you allowed to steal my wife, what did they look like?"

"There were three men there," the new nurse said. "The one who cleared our system as you looked, well, like you only in a wheelchair. Our records say you're—"

"I was. Now, I'm not. Looked like me how?"

"Dark hair, dark skin, young, her had that look, Sir, the way all nobles look as if..."

Dark skin? Darith glanced down at his hand only to note the assessment was valid. His pale aristocratic skin had darkened as if a thick shadow lay over him.

"Yes, how do nobles look? Do continue."

"Like they're just daring you to question them so they can crush you."

"Sena!"

"No, honesty is good. Anything else?"

"One thing, Sir," the first woman said. "A rumor, but they say, he came in a hover-car. All the girls twittered about it."

That made even less sense than anything else. Hover cars were illegal to buy or sell on Yahal. He knew few people who could afford to import one despite the astronomical import tax. His parents possessed the wealth but it couldn't be them. Why would two people so image conscious, risk the social censure that would come with such a flagrant transgression of propriety. No. Whoever this person was they were not sent by the count and countess. But who else? Air of nobility and rich and interested in Marim.