“Rockhome 3 was established by four families,” Dr. Angbat told them over breakfast the next morning, as they prepared for their investigation to begin. “Two Firstcome, one Nomad League, and one unaligned.”

  “So it was established before the foundation of Coriolis station?” Dr. Delecta asked, but Angbat shook her head.

  “Soon after. This system was almost deserted until the Zenith arrived, just a transit system really. But there was a kind of a gold rush in the Kua system after Coriolis was established,” she told them. “Lots of excavation on Kua, but also mining the asteroid belt. People thought that with all the new population in-system there would be a big demand for minerals and ice.”

  “And was there?” Olivia asked. “I don’t see much sign of activity in the asteroid belt now.”

  “Well … it turned out that the asteroids in this system aren’t very rich in minerals, and it was not really much more expensive to ship them in from other systems. Portal travel is almost instantaneous, after all, and it’s always easy to split costs in a Caravan through Kua. So in the first century almost all the mining colonies failed. There was a lot of violence, the Consortium had to step in a lot. That’s part of why Inge is here, they came to an agreement that Consortium agents would spend time at the surviving colonies.”

  “To ensure stability, no doubt,” Olivia said with a contemptuous flick of her lips. “Thanks be to the Colonial Agency! Did this colony survive with their help?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. This colony was lucky, because they didn’t have so much debt when they started up. The two Firstcome Factions provided workers mostly, the Nomads provided the graviton projectors that hold everything together, and the unaligned family fronted up a lot of the money. The projectors meant Rockhome 3 had a bigger structure, and more docks, which they rented out at times. For a while they were a way-station for traders to the Rimward Reach, until that network collapsed.”

  “They didn’t have to pay for the projectors upfront?” Al Hamra asked, and seeing her smirk, answered his own question. “So the Nomad family were actually pirates?”

  “Originally,” she nodded. “We don’t know where they got the projectors from, but like I said, the Rimward Reach was falling apart, there was a lot of chaos, and the Nomad Federation were the only force out there. So whether they were stolen or salvaged we don’t know. Everyone assumes pirates, though.”

  “So these families,” Al Hamra pushed, moving past the dubious origins. “They’re still running the place?”

  “Not quite,” Dr. Angbat shook her head. “There were reforms to weaken their authority, and now they’ve just got voting rights and some say over leadership positions. Also one of the families died out a couple of generations after the founding. Which is when the station’s money problems started.” When Al Hamra grunted to indicate his interest she continued. “It wasn’t violence,” she said in response to a question from Olivia. “Just the end of a dynasty. The elder daughter died in a mining accident, the son preferred other men and never had children, and the line ended with him. But he was one of the Firstcome Factions, with some kind of genesis loan that didn’t need discharging provided the business stayed in the family.”

  “Church of the Icons?” Siladan asked, and Dr. Angbat nodded. “So then the colony had a choice, hand over a controlling share of their business to the Church, or buy them out at ridiculous rates. So they took a loan from the Consortium, and bought out the Church.”

  “I bet the Consortium liked that,” Olivia observed. The Church of the Icons was an ancient Firstcome Faction, with a difficult relationship to the Consortium and the Zenithian Hegemony. The Consortium did not like their missionary work, and the way they entangled themselves in the lives of Colonists, especially when they preached good works over profit.

  “They did,” Dr. Angbat confirmed, “So they offered a loan on excellent terms. It was still expensive though, and it isn’t the only loan. That’s also why Inge was sure that the debtors weren’t going to foreclose on us.”

  “Because she’s kind of the loan officer,” Dr. Delecta observed. “Which is also why she wants us investigating. What did the family that gave all the money think of that?”

  “Well, that’s complicated …” Dr. Angbat began. “That family has grown small as well, and a lot of them live away from the colony now, basically just collecting an income. There’s only one family member left on the station, and he should be acting like a disinterested investor but he behaves like he owns the place. Makes a lot of demands and gets nothing. Annoying.”

  “Is there any kind of labour movement?” Siladan asked, and Angbat shook her head. “I think Inge’s fears there are misplaced,” she told them. “We are a worker’s cooperative. Or at least, we have been for a century, since the reforms removed the founding families’ power. Everyone who works or worked has a say in choosing leadership positions, major financial decisions are put to a vote, and there’s a representative council. The founding families get a little extra say in some decisions, but it’s balanced by a workers’ representative and two technical representatives. If there was an uprising it’d be the workers fighting themselves.”

  “And everyone’s happy with that?” Adam asked, seeing Olivia roll her eyes cynically.

  “Mostly,” Dr. Angbat replied. “We have some fiery meetings, but mostly we get along. Certainly our disagreements aren’t enough to warrant sabotage.”

  “Probably means it’s not something labour-related, then,” Al Hamra said. “Something about relationships. Love, jealousy, spite.” He looked to Dr. Delecta. “How should we handle this?”

  “I think …” Dr. Delecta paused to think. “How about I join Dr. Angbat at clinic, provide some medical care and nose around in people’s psychiatric files in the breaks.” She looked to Dr. Angbat for approval and, having received a nod, turned to Siladan. “Siladan, you get to the docks and see if you can go through all the communications you can get your hands on, find out if anyone sent a message out from here that might give any clues. Adam, I think you should go on the ship with Lavim and keep it under guard. If someone realizes that we’re investigating they might decide to sabotage our ship.” She looked to Al Hamra, who nodded agreement to her plans so far. “Olivia, you go and help with the repairs around the colony, ask questions as you go. At the very least we need to find out how the place was sabotaged, that should help us to guess who might have done it. And at least try to act like you sympathize with these people,” she added, getting a wry grin from the former colonist in return. “Al Hamra, what about you?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I think I’ll ask Abraham some questions, and see if Inge can get me surveillance camera footage and data on the operation of the colony.” He turned to Dr. Angbat. “Doctor, I saw that there is a row of smaller docks, are they for mining ships?” When she nodded affirmative he continued. “I might try and get records on them, see if anyone accessed or used them. Also I’ll see if I can narrow down our list of suspects. I guess not everyone knows how to sabotage a reactor. Shall we meet back here in the mid-afternoon?”

  They nodded agreement and everyone set to work. Dr. Angbat and Banu Delecta went straight from the apartment down through the rock of the central asteroid to the main infirmary, a cool and quiet facility that was largely empty when they arrived, except for a woman in the obstetrics bay with her newborn baby, two miners recovering from decompression injuries, and a couple who were scheduled for a pre-marital check-up. “They’re essential for small mining colonies,” Dr. Angbat told her. “A lot of risk of genetic links in past generations, so we have to do some counselling. Not every couple on a station like this is able to have children. I’ll deal with them and my morning rounds, and if anyone drops in you can handle them.” She took a little time to give Dr. Delecta access to the clinical records and left her to begin her consultations. While she waited for something to happen Dr. Delecta started searching through psychiatric reports and clinical records.

  It was a quiet morning, with a single consultation mid-morning with a young woman who burnt herself doing repair work on the water purification plants, a simple enough treatment and nothing alarming. Just before lunch a slim young man in tattered gabellaya came into the clinic, his face bruised below one eye, asking for painkillers and a minor rejuvenation treatment for the injury. As Dr. Delecta was leaving the consultation room to prepare the rejuve patch Dr. Angbat caught her in the hallway.

  “Is that Ilthid in there?” She asked from the doorway to the pharmacy, using the man’s name.

  “Yes it is,” Dr. Delecta replied, both hands occupied on the machinery that prepared the patch. “Something I should know?”

  “Did he tell you how he was injured?” She asked, walking over to a terminal next to Dr. Delecta and keying in some search terms.

  “He said he slipped in the dark during the blackout. Apparently his apartment block had strict electricity rationing for the past week.”

  “I think he’s lying to you,” Dr. Angbat told her. She pointed to a picture she had called up on the terminal, of a pleasant-looking young man with spiky black hair and eyes made up with heavy kohl. “I have it on good authority that he is this man’s lover. I think this man is beating him. He always makes excuses to me, probably because we live so close together in here that nobody wants to admit to being a victim. And he’s probably scared. But he might open up to you, as an outsider. Could you try?”

  Dr. Delecta looked at the picture of the man on the screen, which showed his name as Aslam Arabat, age 32. “He’s much older than Ilthid,” she observed.

  “And much richer,” Dr. Angbat added. She waved at the screen. “He’s the scion of the founding family I mentioned earlier, the rich ones who provided the funds to establish the colony. He’s a piece of work, I can tell you.” She patted Dr. Delecta on the shoulder. “See if you can get through to him, where I can’t,” And walked out to attend to something else.

  Dr. Delecta finished preparing the patch and returned to the consultation room, where Ilthid sat looking small and weak on the examination bench. Domestic violence was extremely rare in the Third Horizon, and since she had not completed the last year of her medical licensure she had not attended much training on the topic. She had a vague memory of check lists and protocols, and figuring there would be a computer-assisted culturally-sensitive protocol she fussed around on the computer, making excuses until she found it. As she began applying the patch to Ilthid’s face she began asking the questions, working from the general to the specific and structuring the interview around a standard sexually transmitted infection screen that had become a new stationary protocol for everyone under 30. He accepted it at first but began to become elusive and suspicious halfway through, and finally her patience broke.

  “I know there was no blackout in the quarters last night,” she said finally, when his prevarications finally overwhelmed her limited patience. She had left medicine for several reasons, and now she remembered that one of the less pressing reasons had been her complete lack of bedside manners. “So why don’t you tell me what really happened? Did Aslam hit you?”

  Ilthid looked at her in shock, started shaking his head, and then to her surprise broke down and started sobbing in front of her, mumbling something about keeping it secret and not telling anyone. “You’re a visitor right?” He asked her, and when she confirmed this fact she had already told him twice he began to babble. In amongst his pleas, excuses and apologies she caught a few of the salient facts of his case: Aslam was very angry last night, he was a good person he just sometimes lost his temper, he was under a lot of pressure, and Ilthid endured it because Aslam was due for great things, and once the pressure of his situation was lifted from his shoulders surely all this would stop. The typical kind of illusions that young people who don’t understand the world are liable to fall for when they are in the thrall of someone older and more powerful.

  “What kind of great things?” She asked him, partly out of a desire to keep him talking and partly because she was not sure how to proceed with this rapidly collapsing consultation. She was only half paying attention, trying to find some counselling resources on the station system at the same time as she pondered vaguely what the man could have been angry about last night, when the whole station was celebrating the recovery of its life support system.

  “He says he will have more authority soon,” the young man told her, “And then I can move to a better apartment and he’ll keep only me.” From this conversational opening she discovered that Aslam had another lover, a woman in the second residence section, who knew about Ilthid. They tolerated each others’ existence because of Aslam’s money and the general boredom of the situation, but Ilthid had been promised exclusivity once his lover ‘got what he was owed’. Further inquiries on that line revealed nothing, because Ilthid did not really understand how the station worked; he had just finished his college studies and was taking a six month break, considering which division of the colony to work for and not really a fully functioning part of the colony’s gossips and intrigues yet.

  A perfect victim really. Dr. Delecta sorted out some materials for him on how to manage domestic violence, gave him some counseling information, reminded him that all forms of intimate partner violence were illegal and that yes, Aslam was not above the law (which neither Ilthid nor she really believed), and that he should be thinking carefully about his situation, and had shooed him out of the door and out of her life before she realized the implications of what he had been telling her.

  A rich child of the founders, who was sure he would ‘get what he was owed,’ who promised Ilthid a better apartment once he came into his wealth, and was very angry the night that the rest of the station was celebrating their salvation from a certain doom in the wastes of space.

  She keyed on her communicator, which had been largely quiet all morning, and made contact with Al Hamra. “Captain,” she said, when he answered, “Can you get me all the details you can on Aslam Arabat, from the founder family with the money? I think I have our saboteur.”