Steward Alexander woke suddenly in agony, which was not surprising since someone had just broken his right arm in two places by hitting it very hard with the handle of a fire axe. This pain did not persist for very long because someone else stunned him almost unconscious with a heavy blow to the head administered with a fire extinguisher. Assault with safety equipment. Three or four additional blows broke more bones and ruptured various internal organs, but Steward Alexander was beyond all sensation and awareness. His pillow was then placed over his face and held there until there was no sign of life at all. Finally, his body was rearranged into a position of repose, and a piece of paper was placed under his folded hands. The killers dropped their weapons and left the cabin, locking it behind them. Justice had been done. No blood had been spilled, well very little anyway.
**********
Scriptor Karpus was not enjoying his breakfast. It wasn’t the taste. Scriptor Karpus had very little sense of taste at all, as side effect of his electro-graft. No, it was the long period rocking motion of the gondola as it swayed from side to side. Grav-Zeppelin travel was exciting, romantic and luxurious. The nauseating part was severely de-emphasized. At the moment, the flagship Grav-Zeppelin of the Hauser-Huss Zeppelin Service, “The Miracle of Saint Basil” was having to deal with the edges of a major storm. The unexpected winds were going to delay its arrival in Pleasant Hill by as much as a day and, in spite of the stabilators’ best efforts, the gondola had developed a slow swaying motion. Most of the passengers were not affected either from natural resistance or the anti-nausea medication in the evening and morning oxoblast milk. Unfortunately, as officers of the Inquisition, both Inquisitor Brake and Scriptor Karpus had toxo-enzyme implants to protect them from many forms of poison. To them the anti-nausea medication was indistinguishable from any other toxin, and Norcross III was too primitive a planet to use protein encoding. Worst of all, Inquisitor Brake seemed completely unaffected, even without medication.
Much of the gaiety had gone out of the First Class Saloon with the murder of Citizen Trude Jaeger by Steward Alexander the previous day. In particular, the empty chair at the Inquisitor’s table was a reminder to them all of these tragic events. The gray scudding clouds and the occasional showers of rain and hail beating on the observation windows contributed to the general air of gloom.
The seating arrangements had been changed again the Scriptor noticed. The Imperial Commander’s fireworks expert had been moved back to the Inquisitor’s table along with his wife and child. The two Junker brothers, Eric and Karl, had remained, and Citizen and Marte Jaeger and Citizen Anhalt had been moved to the Captain’s table. The Jaegers because of their recent tragedy, and Citizen Anhalt to keep him away from the Junker brothers.
Citizen Jaeger, Eric and Karl Junker and Citizen Anhalt, had all been potential suspects in the murder of Citizen Trude. Insults which could only be expunged with blood had been exchanged during the questioning. Scriptor Karpus had extracted a grudging oath of the Emperor’s Peace from each of them, but he knew how much they regarded Honor here on Norcross. An oath given under duress is no oath at all. Honor demanded Blood. Scriptor Karpus hope that the blood would wait until Pleasant Hill.
The Scriptor was surprised to see the Commander of the Watch hurry into the saloon. He was a man who seemed permanently nervous and worried, perhaps a good man to have protecting the safety of all aboard but the Scriptor had noted during the murder investigation that he seemed more interested in avoiding blame than anything else. Scriptor Karpus was even more surprised when the Commander motioned for him to meet him at the purser’s station. This unusual situation arose because of a deception. Scriptor Karpus was the chief administrative assistant to Inquisitor Roberto Brake. The Inquisitor had been ordered by his superior, High Inquisitor Sigismondo, to take passage on this zeppelin for Pleasant Hill. He hadn’t been told why, and he was traveling incognito with the Scriptor and a small four man Nemesis bodyguard lead by Proctor Paramedes. When the murder of Citizen Trude had been discovered, Inquisitor Brake had ordered the Scriptor to reveal himself as Senior Arbitrator-Investigator Abraxes of the Adeptus Arbites, one of his official alternate identities, and offer his services and those of his assistant, Investigator Brake. All the crew and First Class passengers had been impressed when he had solved the murder very quickly, with a little help from his assistant. This type of play-acting was reasonably common between Scriptor Karpus and Inquisitor Brake, and the Scriptor praised the Emperor many times that he had been assigned to a superior who chose to take full advantage of his abilities. He and Inquisitor Brake had been together for many years.
Scriptor Karpus looked toward the Inquisitor and such was the communication between them that the question was asked and the answer given with a single glance. He got up and went to see the Commander who beckoned him outside into the corridor.
“Arbitrator Abraxes,” the Commander said after a pause to reinforce his nerve. ”The criminal Steward Alexander has been murdered in the night. He had been locked in his cabin as you required. The Under-Chef was moved to the vacant cabin.” He did not need to mention that the cabin was vacant because Citizen Trude had been murdered in it and thrown out of the porthole, five thousand feet into the sea below. “When they came to pick up his tray this morning his breakfast was untouched. They knocked on the door and there was no answer. I was then called and I used my over-ride to open the door. He was dead in bed. What must I do?” A fine example of diversion of responsibility. The man was an expert.
The idea of murdering a man who would certainly be sentenced to death and be executed within a few days seemed very strange. The Scriptor thought for a moment and stared into space. This gaze was often interpreted by superiors who did not know him as lack of humility or caused by mental slowness. Something that occasionally caused him problems. In fact, he had a rare corneal electoo which allowed him to project the information from his cerebral electro-graft as if written in the air in front of him. He quickly reviewed the deck plan and the identities of all the occupants of the nearest cabins to the murder and loaded up the crew roster from the zeppelin’s machine spirit data system. He was now prepared for his master’s questions so he turned back to the saloon. Inquisitor Brake was watching for him, and got up to join him, shortly followed by Proctor Paramedes and Osfolio, the first shift guard.
“Investigator Brake,” he said in his best voice of authority,” the Commander of the Watch reports that Steward Alexander has been murdered. This is really a local matter, but since he was technically under the authority of the Adeptus Arbites until he was delivered to the Department of Safety, I think we need to investigate this. Murdering prisoners in our custody is an insult to the Emperor.” In fact things were a little worse than that. The Inquisitor’s deception was technically in violation of an agreement between the Inquisition and the Adeptus Arbites. A minor complaint might get quashed, lost or delayed beyond their lifetime. The murder of a prisoner was more serious and, even if ignored, might be held against the Inquisition in general. The Adeptus Arbites was always ready to expand its operations into areas normally handled by the Inquisition. It was against Inquisition policy to give them any encouragement.
“Let us visit the scene of the murder.”
Steward Alexander was lying on his bed, his arms folded awkwardly across his chest. His right arm was at a strange angle because of the break in it. Although there was almost no blood, there were signs of a broken cheek-bone and perhaps a skull fracture. On the floor of the cabin was a fire axe and a heavy fire extinguisher, presumably removed from one of the nearby safety stations. Although the zeppelin was kept aloft by a combination of hot air and grav-plates, fire at five thousand feet was still something to be strongly guarded against. Under the Steward’s hands was a piece of paper, cut from a book. The Scriptor looked at it more closely, but could see only a few words at the end of the last three lines. As he moved to one side to let the Inquisitor look more closely at the body, he used his electro-graft to search its database, and within a second it had identified the page as being cut from the Book of the Word, the collection of the Emperor’s blessings and prayers found in every cabin on the zeppelin. The prayer itself was identified as the Prayer for the Dead. Hardly a coincidence.
“Investigator Brake, I believe that the piece of paper is the Prayer for the Dead from the Book of the Word. This was no murder, it was an execution.” Who ever had killed the Steward had placed the Emperor’s Blessing in his hands. If he was entitled to join with the Emperor, the Blessing would identify him. This also reduced the severity of the crime significantly. The body was lost, but that was always lost, the killers had done what they could to save the soul.
The Scriptor could see that the Inquisitor had almost finished examining the cabin, he had checked the Lavatorium, Proctor Paramedes had looked under the bed. They had tested the lock on the now closed upper berth where the Under-Chef had slept. Finally the Inquisitor checked the desk and the cupboard above it, but there was no sign of a Book of the Word.
“Investigator Brake, Proctor Paramedes, come back to my cabin, we can discuss the crime in private.” The Commander of the Watch who had been pacing nervously up and down in the main corridor took this for the dismissal that it was, wished them all good luck and the Emperor’s help and hurried off to avoid some other blame. The three and Osfolio went back to the Scriptor’s cabin.
Once alone together, the normal command chain reasserted itself. The Scriptor moved to one side to allow the Inquisitor to sit on the bed while he and Proctor Paramedes stood and waited.
“You are right Scriptor.” said the Inquisitor,” that was an execution, not a murder. It seems to have been very well planned. The bludgeoning would have been quiet, there was little blood to cover the floor or the perpetrators’ clothing, and the Prayer for the Dead had been carefully cut out and placed in his hands They had an axe, but they used the handle as a club to avoid spilling blood when it would have been very easy to use the head to chop. I will order a search of every cabin and see if we can find a copy of the Book of the Word with the Prayer of the Dead missing. That may give us a clue, but I doubt it. The Steward was a prisoner in his cabin. The cabin door was not unlocked and locked without a key or an over-ride. It’s lucky that the cabin had no porthole, or there may not even have been a body, just another mystery suicide.”
“I am sorry my Lord,” said the Scriptor diffidently, ”in my enthusiasm, I did not wait for your permission. I have already sent instructions to the zeppelin’s machine spirit to start a search of every cabin in the First Class section and all the crew cabins looking for a copy of the Book of the Word with the Prayer of the Dead missing. The only exceptions are this cabin and your own. I apologize for exceeding my authority.”
The Inquisitor could tell that he was genuinely sorry. Scriptor Karpus’ natural inclination ran to command and with his size and build and look, many people took him for the Inquisitor, an advantage the Inquisitor used frequently. The Scriptor had been the target of six more assassination attempts than the Inquisitor as far as they had been able to determine such things He never allowed himself to forget who was the master and who gave the orders. The Inquisitor could count the number of time that the orders given by the Scriptor in anticipation were not those he was about to give himself on the fingers of one hand. A truly valuable assistant. Praise the Emperor.
“It is not important Scriptor, I appreciate your efficiency. I ordered you to assume the identity of Senior Investigator Abraxes, I can hardly complain if you follow my orders too effectively. Based on our experiences yesterday, the search of all the cabins will take some time. Let us go back to the saloon and finish our breakfast.”
Just like yesterday the First Class passengers were being held in the saloon again while a search took place. The conversation level had increased as people speculated about the delay and the reasons for the search. Wild rumors went around the room. The tables had been re-arranged so that Senior Investigator Abraxes and his assistants had a table to themselves, a little away from the other passengers. The Inquisitor finished his meal and then ordered an extra frangiberry juice, an indulgence but hardly the beginning of the Sin of Excess. The Under-Chef who was now serving the drinks did not manage to get that perfect temperature that Steward Alexander had always achieved. The Inquisitor said a brief prayer for the Remembrance of Duty Performed.
“Investigator Brake, the search is now complete.” said Scriptor Karpus as he received the latest information from the zeppelin’s machine spirit. “One Book of the Word was found without the Prayer for the Dead, but the page was torn and cannot be connected with this crime. Four Books cannot be found at all. They belong to the cabins of Purser Grunwald, Citizen Jaeger, Citizen Anhalt and the Junker brothers.”
“Not a coincidence I think,” said the Inquisitor.
“Schlagt” said Proctor Paramedes. The Inquisitor and the Scriptor both looked at him.
“Schlagt? What does that mean Proctor?” the Inquisitor asked?
“It is an old Teuton custom my Lord. The Teutons have a strong sense of personal and family honor. From the way they act you might think that they had invented the concept of Honor itself.” His tone made it clear that he thought very little of Teuton honor or even Teutons themselves. “From time to time this causes problems. For instance, if I were to give Mortal Insult to three Teutons together, this would cause a problem. One of them could expunge the insult by simply killing me, but how would the other two reclaim their honor? They would have to kill the man who killed me. This sort of thing can get out of hand very quickly. Their solution was the Schlagt, the Cartel of Honor. Instead of each of the three plotting to be the first to kill me, all three would get together to compass my death. It looks as if that is what has happened here.”
“Do you mean that you think that all five of them killed Steward Alexander?” asked the Scriptor.
“No Sir, that’s not the way it usually works. The Cartel gets together to plan the death. Each one contributes what he can, money, weapons or transport, and some of the members are selected to do the actual killing. In the event that they fail or die in the attempt the others in the Cartel of Honor are bound to persist until they are successful or dead.”
“The Junkers, Citizen Jaeger and Citizen Anhalt don’t seem to be the sort to ally. They are enemies.”
“Yes Sir, they are enemies, but they are Teutons first. Steward Alexander was not.”
“Does that mean that Steward Alexander’s family will now have to avenge his death?”
“No Sir. Here on Norcross we distinguish between personal and family honor. Steward Alexander had only a personal name, so he has only personal honor. The chain of honor ends with him. On the other hand, I am a Paramedes. My family is one of the most powerful in the Western Hemisphere, and I say this without boasting. To kill me on a personal matter they would need the permission of the head of the Clan or I would need to claim the insult as a private matter. Only he or I could sever my family honor.”
“What about Citizen Trude? Surely her death was a blow to her family honor?” asked the Inquisitor.
“No my Lord, she is… was a woman, women have no honor. Her death was a personal insult to her protector, in this case her father. But it was an insult to all the others too.”
“Proctor Paramedes, you have never been off Norcross. If you ever do get out into the galaxy, you will have a lot to learn. I know a Sister who would be eager to educate you.”
“A sister, my Lord, you have never mentioned your family.”
“That is not the sort of Sister I had in mind.” With that enigmatic remark the Inquisitor indicated that the discussion was over. Strange customs they have here on Norcross he thought. Very wasteful too. Their people should be dying fighting the enemies of the Emperor, not each other. He would make sure that a report was filed.
“What will happen to these men for killing Steward Alexander?” asked Scriptor Karpus.
“Nothing Sir. They will argue that the death was a Debt of Honor and that their behavior was justified. The authorities will agree with them. Of course they did kill a prisoner of the Adeptus Arbites, but he had confessed to a capital crime. Many will view it as saving the Department of Safety the trouble of a fair trial and a fair execution. They do not know that you are an Inquisitor my Lord. They must have unwittingly committed some offenses against the Inquisition,” he added with a tone of hopefulness in his voice.
The Inquisitor thought about this for a moment. He decided that this was a local matter. Apparently this was a normal incident here on Norcross and not worthy of further consideration.
“No Proctor, I am not going to charge them with any offense. I will let the matter drop.”
“My Lord,” said Scriptor Karpus, “will you give me permission to try and determine the actual killers?”
The Inquisitor was quite surprised, this was not really like Scriptor Karpus. Perhaps it was playing Senior Investigator Abraxes or perhaps it was the atmosphere. The Scriptor very rarely asked for anything. His face was impassive, but the Inquisitor’s long acquaintance with him revealed the almost invisible signs of anticipation. He thought for a moment.
“You may investigate further Scriptor, but you must stop when we get to Pleasant Hill, and you must not question any of the suspects. I’m not sure how you will solve this. There are no clues and the members of the Cartel are obviously going to cover for each other. They do not even consider themselves criminal. Are you sure that you want to try this Karpus?”
“Yes my Lord. I have my own ideas. I will not question them, but I may talk to them and I will observe them. I will not cause any trouble. When you do not require him for other duties, my I have the assistance of Proctor Paramedes? He understands the local customs and will keep from trouble.”
Scriptor Karpus was certainly determined in his task.
“I will send the Proctor to you when I do not need his services. You had better let everyone out of here before things get any worse.”
“I have already done so my Lord.” As he said this the Captain himself appeared and announced that Steward Alexander had been murdered and the zeppelin had been searched but there had been no sign of the killers, and would everyone please leave the saloon so that it could be set up for luncheon. The mood and conversation became considerably lighter and it was clear that Proctor Paramedes was right. No one was very concerned with this turn of events, especially since it didn’t delay luncheon.
After he had eaten Scriptor Karpus was up on the promenade deck apparently gazing into the infinity of the clouds. The rain had stopped but the wind was still strong. Fortunately the shield at the front of the gondola and the shape of the railings kept the worst of the gusts from the deck. The problem with the Scriptor’s electro-graft that remembered everything was simply that it remembered EVERYTHING. Unless he went though the conscious effort of constructing memory linkages, whenever he wanted to recall something he had to search through a great many memories. At the moment he was recalling all the conversations and incidents he had witnessed or overheard involving the presumed Cartel members from the moment that he had set foot aboard the zeppelin. Given the constricted space the Scriptor was not surprised at just how much information he had about them and their personalities. The Inquisitor’s electro-graft was optimized for planning, deduction and induction. The Scriptor was the master of detail. It wasn’t for nearly fifteen minutes that the presence of Proctor Paramedes impinged on his consciousness. And yes, a quick replay showed that he had been there for fourteen and a half minutes, waiting patiently.
“Yes Proctor?”
“Sir, Inquisitor Brake ordered me to assist you. He wants me back on duty by the evening meal, so I can help you for about three hours.”
“That will be plenty of time I think.” The Scriptor paused for some time to literally organize his thoughts.
“Where are going first, Sir?” said Proctor Paramedes after a while.
“Going? We aren’t going anywhere. I think that I have all of the information necessary to discover the murderers, it is just a simple matter of getting a few details correct. You do know the men and their families don’t you Proctor?”
“Yes Sir, the Anhalts, Jaegers and Junkers are all members of the original Ten Companies. Purser Grunwald’s family are Liaison, so are of a distinctly lower rank. They are all from powerful families connected to the original 666th Teuton Regiment.”
“These families do not get on well together however?”
“No Sir, there are many rivalries and feuds.”
“Are these feuds suspended for the Schlagt?”
“No Sir, not really. None of the members of the Cartel should move against another before the Insult is avenged, but accidents happen and from the moment of death the Cartel is dissolved.”
“Does the Cartel have a leader?”
“No Sir. The Cartel votes it’s decisions were necessary, that is why there is always an odd number of members.”
“Ah. Do you think that is why Purser Grunwald was involved Proctor?”
“I’m not sure Sir. He is not of the class who would normally associate with the others. Steward Alexander was under his command, so the murder of Citizen Trude would reflect on his personal honor, but as far as I know Steward Alexander was an employee, not a serf.”
“Yes Proctor, you are right. The Steward was merely an employee according to the zeppelin’s records. Does this matter?”
“A little Sir. I would say then that Purser Grunwald was brought in as the Odd Man.”
“Would that make any difference to the Cartel?”
“Yes Sir. Unless all five of them were to kill the Steward, the Odd Man does not participate. He might have given them the over-ride key to get in though.”
“Yes Proctor, I has already worked that out.” The tone while not insulting did seem a little dismissive. Proctor Paramedes had very little experience with Scriptor Karpus and could not read his moods like Inquisitor Brake. He decided to adopt a more wary attitude until he learned more.
“You would agree Proctor that the killing was done by two or more, but probably not by all five?”
“Yes Sir.”
“There seems to be a lot of tension between Citizen Anhalt and the others.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Can you help me with this?”
“The Anhalts, the Hausers and the Coburgs are the three most powerful Teuton families. They tend to treat everyone else as some kind of servant. The Anhalts don’t treat their servants very well.”
“Citizen Anhalt also doesn’t seem like a stable or reliable man. His temper might get the better of him. Do you think that any other member of the Cartel would commit the killing alone with Citizen Anhalt.?”
“No Sir I do not. None of them would trust him, and he might not trust them,” said the Proctor after a moment’s thought.
“Do you think then that Citizen Anhalt might have done it together with the Junker brothers?”
“Never Sir He would be too concerned that one of them might stab him in the back. I very much doubt that he would go anywhere now with both Junker brothers”
“Citizen Jaeger and Eric Junker also seemed to have some matter of honor between them.”
“Yes Sir. The comments Citizen Jaeger made during the questioning by Inquisitor Brake were a personal insult to Erik Junker.”
“Eric Junker could kill him over those words?!”
“No Sir. It was not a mortal insult, but an apology must be made or blood must flow.”
“So you think it unlikely that Citizen Jaeger would risk letting Eric Junker anywhere near his back?”
“No Sir. Not until they have resolved their problem.”
“What about Karl Junker the elder brother, he doesn’t seem to be the killing type.”
“No Sir. There were two other brothers. The eldest, Max I think, was an aide to the Provincial Governor in Buford and died carrying a bomb out of the Council Chamber. He died a hero. The next brother, I forget his name, was given over to the Ecclesiarchy at an early age. He was killed in the third campaign for Armageddon fighting to protect the Shrine to the Emperor Invincible there. Karl was groomed to manage the family’s estates. Military duties have been thrust on him late in life, but he just isn’t the right sort of person to handle them”
“Do you think that Citizens Jaeger and Anhalt would rely on him as their only accomplice?”
“No Sir. I don’t think that even Eric would rely on Karl alone.”
“Really. That make things very simple then. Thank you for solving the problem for me Proctor. I won’t need you any more.”
It is a shame that Inquisitor Brake was not there to see the look on Proctor Paramedes as Scriptor Karpus turned and walked across the deck, his robe being blown is several directions at once in the gusty breeze. Inquisitor Brake appreciated such looks.
Who were those responsible for the actual execution of Steward Alexander?
Citizen Anhalt, the arrogant elitist
Citizen Jaeger, the aggrieved father
Karl Junker, the not so young, not so hero
Eric Junker, the young hero
Give reasons please.
