Murder By Space Part 1 J2 NC17
Title: Murder by Space Part 1
Author/Artist: candygramme
Type of fanwork(s): fic, slash
Genre/Characters/Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC17
Beta: My beloved spoonlessone
Wordcount: 18,800
>b>Author's Notes Written for spn-in-space 2012. Jensen is a private eye of the old school, based on a space resort that caters for high end clients, When movie star Jared Padalecki retains him to find out who is trying to kill him, he bites off a little more than he can chew. Good job he's telepathic!
She strode into my office like she owned it and, trust me, I would have given it to her if she'd wanted it.
"My mother is a fish" she told me, and all I could think of to say was, "Mine just drinks like one. Take a seat."
I leaned forward and tried to look sincere. She had a perfect rack, and wasn't afraid of sharing it. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?" I asked her.
"I want you to find somebody for me," she murmured, batting eyelashes that were altogether too long to be human.
"Will I do?" I asked her, wistfully.
“Only if you can find her for me - the perfect woman," she told me, and I winced. No happy ending for me, unless the two of them would let me watch.
“Can’t guarantee to find her, but I can guarantee to give it my best shot,” I murmured, and rose to my feet to reach for my fedora. “I charge two hundred a day plus expenses. Who do you want me to find?”
“Her name is Carmen. Carmen SanDiego…”
“Boss.” The earth was shaking. I was in an earthquake. Flailing wildly, I narrowly avoided falling off my chair and dashing my brains out as my idiot clerk shook me in an attempt to get my attention. There was drool on my chin, and I think some lost gorilla had taken a dump in my mouth. Maybe two of them; I dunno. Someone needs to do something about the damned gorilla infestation around here. It’s not something that should happen to an honest citizen, certainly not here on Astra Major. Not - of course - that I would class myself as an honest citizen. I’m a private eye, and that makes me somewhat shady before I even start. It goes with the label.
And for you ground huggers, Astra Major, also known as Bel Air in the Air, is definitely fertile ground for private eyes, because it caters exclusively to the rich and famous, and is peopled with elderly misers working on their fourteenth marriage to bimbos who are in it for the money, and tinsel town types who are all doing dirty things behind each others’ backs. Yep, I’m one of those creeps that batten on the wealthy, and I’m never short of sleazy employment.
I’m a private eye, like I said, but that doesn’t mean I’m rolling in money. I do okay, in that I can always - well almost always - afford another bottle of hooch, even if it isn’t the kind of quality you’d expect if you’re a ground hugger. I have an office and it has three rooms, one for my desk, one for my bed and one for the aforementioned idiot clerk to sit and try to look alert while waiting to masquerade as my receptionist.
Other people get perky blondes with impressive credentials. Me. I got the Chad.
What? Well, at least he’s blond.
And he just woke me up. I guess he can be forgiven for waking me from a dream that I don’t think was gonna do me any favors.
I squinted at him, trying to get both eyes to track together, and he squinted right back at me.
“What?” I said, finally.
“Someone here to see you, boss,” he said. I rolled my eyes. He only called me boss when he wanted something, so I knew that this was gonna be some kind of setup, but I was too sleep-riddled to argue, so I just nodded.
“Gimme a minute to set myself to rights, and then show him in… It is a him, isn’t it?” Chad beamed.
“Sure is, boss,” he said. “I’ll make coffee, okay?”
The way to my heart is through coffee. He knows that, and if there’s a shot of Beaver’s patented rotgut in there too, then I’ll pretty much roll over and play dead on command. The little fucker gets me with it every time. “Do that, Chad,” I murmured, and reached for a clean handkerchief to start making myself look pretty for the client.
It wasn’t a minute later that he was back, and bearing a large mug of heaven in his hands. I accepted it with my usual charm and sipped. All was right with the world as I nodded to Chad. “Show him in,” I said, feeling my pores open as they were wreathed by the fragrant steam.
It’s one of those sayings I never understood before, but when I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. I’d seen him before, from a distance of course. He was one of those ‘beautiful people’ you see on the sensos, and there are always stories about him playing on TMZOMG, but close up it was all I could do to stay sitting upright instead of falling to my knees like some kind of shitkicker rube and worshipping him. Hell, I had to restrain myself from reaching for my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the brilliance of his fucking smile. I may have looked like someone had just inserted an ice-pop into my nether regions, but he didn’t seem to notice.
I looked him up and down, and then up again, because he went up a long, long way. He was built like the lunar module, perfect and shiny with every working part functioning to maximum. He had a pair of shrewd, cat-like eyes, cheekbones that would cut like glass, a heroic chin and a thick, glossy mane of hair that curled down below his shoulders, with gems and feathers tied into it so that they glittered if he turned his head. I didn’t speak, and I didn’t move, because I was totally paralyzed, basking in the warmth of his presence, but it didn’t seem to faze him. I guess being an intergalactic heart-throb inures you to that kind of thing. He gave me the aforementioned beaming smile, and held out his hand to shake.
It took a moment to get my motor skills to kick in, but I managed to take it and shake it without keeling over. Go me! It took me a few more moments, but I succeeded in indicating the chair that Chad had so thoughtfully imported from the outer office and he took a seat. Holding his hand had given me an insight as to how he was feeling, but his thoughts were really too chaotic to sort out. He was scared though; that much came through loud and clear. Also loud and clear was his appreciation of my face. I could tell from the flavor of his thoughts that he was open to a relationship, and I do mean open!
“Good morning, Mr. Padalecki,” I croaked. “Ackles Detective Agency at your service. How may I help you?” Behind him, I could see Chad making the crude sign for ‘loser’ in an unnecessarily obscene fashion, and I frowned.
“Call me Jared,” said the man, favoring me with a set of matched dimples that I hear were insured for a million solaros apiece.
“Jared thinks someone is trying to kill him.” That was Chad, who was no longer making rude gestures, but who apparently believed he still had business in my office with me and Mr. Movie Star. I cast a quelling glance at him, but unfortunately he remained unquelled. “I told him to come see you. I told him you were the best in the business.”
In a way, Chad isn’t wrong. I am the best in the business here on Bel Air in the Air. I’m the only licensed gumshoe here - like Mad Magazine, I’m number one in a field of one. I refrained from telling Mr… uh… Jared that, however. I merely nodded graciously and started to ask the probing questions us gumshoes are famous for.
“What makes you think someone’s trying to kill you?” I asked. Straight to the point - that’s me. I’ve never been one for small talk. I steepled my fingers and leaned forward, attempting to radiate competence, integrity and a certain devil may care charm that I assure you I was very far from feeling. Jim Rockford, eat your heart out, I thought.
“My home was firebombed last night.” Jared’s voice was a little quieter than usual as he spoke. “I’d been held back to film another scene, because Ganymede was full, and they needed to get the shot right then, before it set behind Jupiter. I was outside, so I was lucky. The fuckers killed my housekeeper, and they got my lazoon too.”
“You had a lazoon?” I frowned. “Could’ve been PETA, I guess.” Those people for the ethical treatment of aliens were everywhere these days. I wouldn’t have put it past them to be the ones orchestrating an attack on the man who boasted a lazoon.
“How ethical is it to firebomb a cute critter like a lazoon?” Jared sounded offended, and I held up my hand to halt any threatened interruption to my train of thought. That train got derailed often enough without any help from outside. “Besides, it’s not the first time.”
“You’ve been firebombed before?” I could see how he might think someone was trying to kill him, if that was the case, but, to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to miss firebombing the victim once, may be regarded as a misfortune; to miss twice looks like carelessness. I wondered what his insurance claim might total.
“Not firebombed exactly.” Jared went on the air again, and I shut my inner commentary down and listened. “Genevieve and I were at the opening of the Precious Things Gallery the night that everyone was gunned down.”
I remembered that. It had happened Earthside, and the news had even reached us here in the Asteroid Belt on Astra Major. Around fifty of the beautiful people had been gunned down in a raid that had possibly been a little too over the top to just be considered revenge for that remake of “Pearl Harbor.” Now, I raised my eyebrow in my patented Ackles interrogatory expression number three. “So how did you escape the bloodbath?”
“It was pure luck, actually.” Jared seemed to be responding well to my eyebrow. “Genevieve got a call and went out back to take it. We’d been rowing, and I followed her, because I knew it was her damned bit on the side calling her, and I wanted to yell and scream some more at her, just so I could make myself look more pathetic. I was just getting into my stride when the killers broke in, back inside the gallery. I heard the screams and jumped into the dumpster. Genevieve ran, I don’t know where to, because then I caught a jumpdart and came back here.”
I frowned, adding things up. They didn’t add up to a whole lot, but it certainly looked as if Jared Padalecki had a fairy godmother following him around with a specific mandate to keep him out of trouble. She must’ve been napping when he took up with Genevieve, nee Cortese, of the Sicilian Brotherhood. Genevieve was cute, if you like ‘em little and cold blooded. She had thick, dark hair and wielded a mean stiletto, and I’m not talking shoes here. She’d surrounded herself with the rich and braindead, and was seen most often in the company of chicks like Paris and Lindsay. I wondered who the boyfriend was, and whether he might be a suspect. That would be easy enough to check. I nodded, giving him my cutest lop-sided, ironic smile in the hopes that he would continue talking. He did.
“And then there was my car. I’ve got a perfect copy of a vintage Ferrari. I was due to race it at the new Le Mans 24 hour race in a bio-pic about Steve McQueen, but some fucker jinxed the steering, and my driver, Clif, ran it over a cliff on the way down to the south of France. Pretty ironic when you think about it.” He shook his head, almond eyes filled with sorry. “I miss Clif. He was the only one who could do a steak just right.”
I nodded again. Sympathy was in order, A person who knew exactly how to cook a steak was a rare treasure, and the loss would hurt. Of course, I’d only ever eaten real, bona fide cowflesh once in my life, and I have no idea if it was done to perfection or not. All I know is that I could live on that shit very easily. I just needed to make a lot more money than I usually do.
I thought that it was time to start pulling the strands together. I gave him a smile with eye crinkles and ticked off thoughts on my fingers. “Chad, write this down,” I commanded, watching approvingly as he rushed around to find a pencil and a notebook. He’s not the brightest bulb in the box by any means, but he’s definitely able to follow simple commands. He was on his best behavior too, I could tell. For sure he was gonna hit me up for a favor later; I could just feel it coming, but no matter, right now he was pulling out all the stops.
“First,” I said. “We need to find out who Genevieve’s special friend is, and find out if he’s made it up here to Astra Major.” Jared - was it wrong of me to be thinking of the dude as Jared already? I usually maintained my servile attitude when confronted with senso stars who could buy and sell me without noticing any change in their income - Jared was nodding along with my pronouncement.
“So you’re gonna take me on?” he asked. I gave him sincere smile number seven - the one with the eye crinkles and just a smidgeon of world weariness.
“I sure am,” I said. “My rates are… five hundred per day, plus expenses.” I thought that Chad was going to swallow his tongue, so I hurried on. “Second, we need a list of Genevieve’s known associates and to check if any of them have any connection with CentauriCorp or either of the Astra sites.”
“You think Genevieve is the one trying to have me liquidated?” Jared asked me. I smirked and reached to pat his hand. The poor thing looked as if someone had just eaten his kitten - or his lazoon. He was a little up-market for mere kittens.”
“I don’t think anything yet. I’m just starting in the logical place.” I nodded to him as I cast a sly look to check that he was okay with my quoted rates. “First we eliminate all the obvious possibilities and then we look at what’s left. I need to know how things are between you and Genevieve. I can’t help but acknowledge that she’s a member of a very select and rather sinister family. Without wishing to disparage the lady I’ve heard that she can be a little ruthless.”
“Yeah. She’s definitely determined to have things the way she wants them. That isn’t a bad thing, although she sometimes takes it to extremes.” Jared looked a little sheepish, and I raised the eyebrow at him. “She wanted me to stay Earthside with her, and we had a fight. I make sensos - it’s what I do. I told her I didn’t want to become just a satellite for her, and she decided that we were incompatible.”
“So you’re getting a divorce?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” He folded his arms over his impressive chest and leaned back in the rickety chair. I didn’t speak. “She’s Sicilian. They don’t do divorces.”
His words sounded final, and his face reflected as much. I gave him a ‘what can you do’ expression and sat back. “So you want me to take the case?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Looks like I got myself a dick.”
“I prefer the term gumshoe, thank you, but I can be a dick on occasion.” I laughed. What can I say? I thought it was funny. “Okay. It sounds like we need to make sure you’re safe. I guess it’s not possible to go back to your quarters, what with it being a crime scene and all. I’m not sure what we can do with you, but we certainly need to get you out of the picture temporarily. How prepared are you to rough it for a while?”
“What do you mean, ‘rough it’?” he asked me, and I began to lay out my plan.
***
Chad may be kinda dumb, but he’s a mean fighter, and he’s learned all kinds of lethal arts. The dude could kill you with a potato chip; I’m not kidding. I left him to take care of Jared, while I went to do a little investigating of my own. My first move was to go see Danni at Admin Central over on Astra Minor.
Let me explain a little about the setup here. Astra Major is the resort. It’s got room for twelve thousand guests at a time, with all the services you could possibly want, even if you were the most demanding rich guy in the known universe. The service staff are mostly live in, but some of them - the contractors, and therapists and folk such as yours truly all commute from the Admin and service section on Astra Minor. I have an apartment there, although I rarely see it, because I prefer to stay close to the shop.
As I made my way over to the portpad, I tried to shut my mind off from the perpetual hubbub that always assails me when I’m out in public. I get called a loner amongst all kinds of other, somewhat more derogatory terms, but honestly it’s self defense. When I’m in a crowd it’s really hard to concentrate on anything because of the noise generated by all those minds. One of the reasons I sleep over here on Bel Air in the Air is because the walls are all screened, for the A-listers. Wouldn’t want to disturb the peace and tranquility of all those poor little rich kids. The menials over on Minor don’t have the fancy screens, and that means the whole time I’m there, I am pretty much unable to hear myself think. No way can I retain my sanity in an environment like that unless I’m shielded, and right now the only shield I can afford is 80% proof. Maybe some day I’ll be able to afford something slightly less - shall we say - unorthadox - but the new drugs are a little out of my price range right now, so I have to make do with what I’ve got.
So I made my way to portpad B, the one that transports you to the buzzing hive of industry that is Astra Minor, and the head offices of the Centauri Corporation, where I was hoping to be able to score a little information with which I could impress my new meal ticket. I would be fine just so long as the woman I was going to see didn’t actually smell my breath.
Old Beaver is hardly the best single malt that’s out there. It does the job, and it costs me three solaros a quart, so it suits my lifestyle. When I’m not drinking it, I use it to melt handcuffs and eat away at solid walls. It’s that good.
The slightly nauseating twist in reality as I was ported from Major over to Minor was something I’ve never gotten used to. Douglas Adams described it perfectly when he said “It’s a bit like being drunk...” to a glass of water. However, I survived, as I always do.
The corridors of Minor have a whole other look from those at Bel Air in the Air. Over there, the emphasis is on spaciousness, greenery, luxury. Minor has steel walls that haven’t seen a lick of paint since the place was first commissioned. I hopped out of the portpad and greeted the techie there whose job it was to reset for the next lucky traveler.
“Hey, Chris, how they hangin’?” Chris gave me a grin and made a rude gesture with the weird gadget in his hands that I like to think of as his sonic screwdriver.
“They don’t hang in zero gravity, son; they kinda wave around in the breeze.” Chris gave me a smirk, and I caught a faint thought from him that he was due to go off duty shortly.
“Long day?” I asked him.
“Long enough,” he replied. “Gonna be over Bel Air side later. Playin’ the Holodeck tonight. Come along and have yourself a good evening.”
“Sounds awesome,” I replied. Maybe I’d take him up on that. Chris is good people, and he’s useful to know. I gave him a grin. “Hey, do you keep a log of who comes through the gate here?” I asked him. “Got a job right now that might need that kind of info.”
“Sure.” He went over to the terminal beside the portpad and hit a switch. “How far back do you want to go?”
According to what Padalecki had told me, he’d only been back on the resort for a couple of days. “Let’s say since Tuesday, shall we?” I asked him. “Don’t suppose it covers everyone heading up to Major as well?”
Chris frowned. “You gonna get up onstage with me tonight and sing, instead of lurking in the corner being surly?” he said, eyebrow raised.
“Fuck, man, you know I hate performing.” I was pleading; I knew it. So did he, and he wasn’t giving ground at all. Guess the Ackles’ innocent and sad expression number fifteen doesn’t always hit its mark. “Oh, goddammit, okay. For that kind of intel, I’ll sing anything you like for you.”
“It’s gonna take me a little while to get the info for you, so how about I pass it to you later, over in the club.”
I knew what he was doing, the bastard. He’d withhold the info until I paid up. I couldn’t complain, because that’s exactly what I’d do in his case, so I gave in with good grace, gave him the finger-gun salute and told him I’d see him later.
Minor is a rabbit warren, corridors and offices are all around the hub, with living accommodations out on the rim of the station where gravity is a little higher. They don’t keep gravity at full earthside levels, because it helps the freight deliveries to keep it low. Thing is, it changes all the time, depending on the time of day, and this was something one just had to accept. Right now, it was really low, and I figured that they must be unloading one of the supply barges up from the hydroponics farm on Ceres. Sighing philosophically, I grabbed hold of one of the sliderails that was moving in the direction I wanted and let it take me where I needed to go.
CentauriCorp takes up most of the middle wheel of Astra Minor. I headed towards the main control room at membership central, hoping that the person I wanted to see was on duty. The gods were obviously smiling on me, because when I crossed the waiting area and vaulted the counter behind it, I could see the shapely ass of the woman I was looking for. She was bent over the drawer of a filing cabinet, rummaging through its contents, and I could hear a steady litany of expletives issuing from her vicinity, Congratulating myself that I’d caught her in a good mood, I stepped up behind her and slapped her rump in what I thought was a friendly fashion.
She may not have thought so, since she whipped up and around and had a stapler pressed up against my forehead before I could draw breath. I was in awe. One of these days I should pit her against Chad in a knock-down-drag-out fight. My money would be on Danneel, just so you know. There’s a limit to where the ancient writings of Shaolin monks will take you. Danneel knows no such limits.
“Lay one more finger on me, you gnarfworm, and you’ll never be able to take your hat off again.” I raised my hands hurriedly. I love my fedora; it makes me think of my heroes, dudes like Sam Spade, Mike Hammer and Philip Marlow. Course, I’m better at the detective shit than they were, because I can read minds, and I know for sure when I’ve caught the bad guy, but when all is said and done, nobody ever wore a fedora with more style than those guys.
“Love you too, baby girl,” I said, making a kissy face at her. She snorted.
“Honey, I’d believe that if I thought for one minute you’d ever been able to get it up for a lady.” The stapler was withdrawn, much to my relief, and she gave me a long, hard look. “To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of this encounter, Ackles?” she asked.
“Awww, Danni, you really know how to sweet talk a guy, don’t you?” I gave her sexy smirk #1 - guaranteed to melt the stony hearts of school principals and female corporate bosses. She snorted again. Just my luck that she was immune to my charms! I liked girls occasionally - who didn’t? But I was much more interested in hard, male bodies than the squishy ones most women possessed.
“I came to see if you’d like to put on your pretties and go to the Holodeck with me tonight, over on Bel Air.” Well, okay, that wasn’t really what I’d come for, but, hey, you make use of what you’ve got, don’t you?
“The Holodeck, huh? What’s the occasion? You stole someone’s gold fillings or something?” Her lip was curling and her tone was sarcastic, but her eyes were saying yes. I gave her my best charming, boyish grin. I haven’t actually catalogued that one yet, but watch this space. I’m still trying it out.
“Chris and his boys are playing a gig at the Holodeck tonight, and I thought you might like to join me for the festivities.” It was the truth as far as it went, and after studying me for a few minutes she gave me a much more genuine smile.
“You know, that sounds like fun. I haven’t been over to Bel Air for a while. Maybe I’ll go formal and paint my skin.” This was good. Danneel looks awesome most of the time, even in the plaspaper coveralls they give you as a work uniform here at CentauriCorp, but when she gets herself up to go dancing she’s like a lightning strike to the gonads. Even I can see her charm, and I really don’t swing that way.
“We’ll have fun. Maybe I’ll introduce you to my new client,” I said, knowing that would score her some brownie points and also ease her around to talking about the case.
“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Who you got that might be worth a full skin treatment?”
I gave her my most mysterious smile. “Definitely worth it. He’s the original tall, dark and handsome.” The jab to my solar plexus made me cough a little. She gets impatient when I hold out on her, the vixen. “Aww, don’t be like that, Dan, my man. It was gonna be a fun surprise for you.”
“I don’t like your kind of surprises, Ackles. Fess up or wear your bruises proudly.” She straightened her hand and made a jabbing motion towards my groin. I gave in.
“None other than Jared Padalecki, the toast of the silver screen. Have you seen...” I got no further. She squealed and flung her arms around my neck.
“Oh, my god, I love him! Did you see him in “Hell For Leather”? He was amazing.” Her eyes were shining as if she’d just seen a pair of antique Manolos with her name on them. I nodded. Sure I’d seen him. I love the sensos, and the man was built to last, with what looked like the biggest cock in the known universe. Not, of course, that such things weigh with me... much!
“Yeah. I’m doing some stuff for him. He seems like a nice guy.” I could see her thoughts whirl around before my eyes, and reflected that I needed to drink the contents of my hipflask fairly soon if I didn’t want to be banjaxed before I made it back to the relative quiet of Bel Air. She was thinking about possibly becoming the next Mrs. Jared Padalecki, a thought I could get behind, with one comparatively minor alteration.
“That’s awesome. Can I do anything to help?” she asked, and, ladies and gentlemen, we had a winner!
“You sure?” I said. “Because there is something. “You get all the bills of lading and deets on the ships that come in from Earthside, don’t you? I don’t want to put you to any trouble, but...”
“No trouble,” she chirped, “Come on back.” Turning, she headed back into the stacks and paused at a filing cabinet labeled with the CentauriCorp Earth logo. “These are the regular supply vessels,” she indicated the top drawer. “They come in every Friday, and their contents is checked off against the manifests in the folder with their name. These ones are the freighters that call in on their way to Marsport. Anything they drop off is in the ship folder as an import.” I nodded. This was better than I expected. She was going to turn me loose with the files. “Finally, all the private jetabouts and that kind of thing are detailed in here. She kicked the bottom drawer with one dainty, booted foot. “Customs goes over them even though there isn’t any duty to pay, because there are a whole whack of items that are prohibited here. In space, no-one can hear you scream, remember?”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. “This whole thing is because someone tried to burn Jared in his apartment. They actually killed off his housekeeper and his prize alien critter. We’ve got to stop this, Danni, before something really bad happens and the whole of Bel Air burns out, or explodes, or something equally drastic.”
“Oh, my God!” She shoved me to one side and reached for the drawer she’d kicked. “Here. You look through the freight manifests; I’ll check out the ships and crew.”
***
Armed with the kind of info I needed, I bade Danneel a fond farewell and headed back to my office. Chad was busily impressing Jared with his Nam Pai Chuan kung fu. I’m sure it actually is a form of kung fu, and it looks mighty impressive. I still think Chad needs to tone it down a little, but I’ve gotta say, when he’s going through one of his forms his entire body transforms from scrawny, squinty little rat-faced thing to a flow of deadly, graceful intent. He looks like he could just pour himself through keyholes, and once in a while I’m really convinced that he does exactly that.
I hired Chad for his abilities, and they are simple. Chad can hold his own in the worst possible fight, but that’s only one of his skills. The one I prize above all is the fact that Chad can steal anything. It’s a strange skill for someone of the Martian aristocracy to have, and you’ll appreciate that he doesn’t actually broadcast his skills, but I’ve gotta say I cherish the day I first met The Chadster. The dude broke into my room on a dare, and as it happens I hadn’t taken my morning dose of Old Beaver special, and I heard him loud and clear. The rest, as they say, is history.
“Okay,” I murmured, moving over to my desk and dumping the papers I’d collected from Danneel in an untidy heap. “I’ve got some stuff to start looking through.” Taking my seat, I reached under the desk for a bottle of oblivion, AKA Beaver’s rotgut. I raised it to my lips and took a slug directly from the bottle, shuddering as it took the skin off the back of my throat on the way down. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I filled a tumbler and then reached for my flask to fill it up.
“Now,” I said, giving a sigh of relief as the mental onslaught to which I’d been exposed slowly faded, leaving me with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I could still hear the two men in the room with me, but the chaos that had been battering me all the way home was gone. Chad was still working through his long form, and his thoughts were calm and somehow predatory, totally unlike his usual persona. Jared on the other hand was wound tighter than a watchspring. His brain was buzzing, and I could hear the suspicions that he was entertaining. The man was convinced that his wife had taken out a contract on him, and what I found really fascinating about that was the reason for it. Mr. Movie Star had been seeing other people - multiple other people, and the kicker was the fact that the people he’d been seeing were all random strangers at one of Old Hollywood’s seamier gay bars.
I’d have thought that there was safety in numbers, but Ms. Cortese had apparently not subscribed to that school of thought, because the scene she had caused stood out in Padalecki’s memory as being around ten times more terrifying than the last attack by Jovian Slithes. I tossed the man a handful of waybills and suggested that he start looking through them for anything he might recognise. Meanwhile, I was going through the lists of people who had passed through immigration to board Astra Major. Chad continued placidly slaughtering his imaginary opponents, and all was suddenly peace and quiet.
Some time had passed when I finally spotted something that might be interesting and sat forward with a soft curse. Chad had by this time had finished eliminating thin air and gone off into the other room to do something. I called Jared over to take a look at what I’d found, and he crossed to stand at my side just as Chad returned bearing a tray on which reposed three mugs of coffee. I nodded at him.
“Okay, Chad, you may live another day. This is good.”
He deposited the tray on my desk and sat down in the chair Padalecki had just vacated. “Good thing too, boss,” he said, reaching for one of the mugs. “Got me a date tonight. Going to the Holodeck for movie night.”
That was interesting. “Me too. I saw Kane when I was over on Minor, and he invited me. I’m bringing Danni with me.” I turned to Jared. “Don’t suppose you’d care to come? My buddy Christian makes good, earthy rock music. You never know, it might lift your spirits some.”
The dimples flickered as he beamed at me, and I didn’t have to see his thoughts to know what he was thinking. To tell the truth I was absolutely okay with it. The man was hot, and I hadn’t been laid for a long, long time. He nodded acceptance to me and then frowned. “Talking about lifting spirits, I can’t help but notice that you’re drinking rather a lot.”
“Yeah.” I was taken aback. Most people don’t mention it; they just think I’m a lush, and in a way they’re right, although it isn’t through choice. “I have an unfortunate tendency to get overloaded by other peoples’ thoughts if I don’t keep it under control, and as Antipathy is rather more expensive than I can afford, the best I can do is keep it down with rotgut.”
He pursed his lips as if in thought. “Interesting. You know that there are classes you can take where you learn to filter thoughts and block what you don’t want to listen to?”
I gave him a cynical smile. “Yeah. Find me one that’ll take someone on who smells of cheap booze all the time, and I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He beamed at me again, wide and white, and I felt an unfamiliar clench in my gut. Fumbling in his pocket he took out a small blister pack containing maybe nine or ten pills, Three had already been used. I raised my eyes to meet his in mute inquiry.
“Go on, take it. There’s about four days supply there, and I can get more in the morning.”
“What is it?” I was fairly sure I knew what it was, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“Antipathy of course.” Well, that was a turnup for the books.
“You’re a telepath?” I asked him, once I’d collected my scattered wits again.
“Not quite,” he said. “Empath. Feelings and emotions rather than hard thoughts, but I can damp it down when I take Antipathy to the state where I have to touch someone to know what they’re feeling. Try it. I’m guessing your own thought processes will be much clearer on it than cheap whisky.”
“Don’t dignify this shit with the name of whisky. I had whisky once and it didn’t taste even slightly like panther piss.” I studied the blister pack in fascination, looking for the instructions on dosage.
“Take one every six hours,” he said. “And how do you know what panther piss tastes like? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Figure of speech.” I popped a tab and swallowed it down with a gulp of coffee, It wasn’t long before I felt it take effect, and the clarity of focus I could suddenly manage made me gasp. The extraneous hubbub was gone, but as I studied Jared, I could hear his thoughts coming through perfectly clearly. He was interested in me! This was going to be a good night; I could tell. Catching sight of the papers next to the mug as I set it down, I recalled what I’d found a few moments earlier. “Look at this,” I murmured, indicating the line I’d found on the lists that Danneel had printed off for me. “A lady named Jennifer Curtis landed on Minor three days ago and ported over here same day. She is down as having bounced up from Old Hollywood on a liner called the Sicilia. That seems to me to be a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Jennifer Curtis?” Jared frowned for a moment, and then his brow cleared. “Oh, fuck! You don’t think...?”
“I think it bears investigating,” I said. “And if we head over to the Holodeck we should be able to find out more, because Chris is bringing with him a list of all the travelers through the portpads between Major and Minor for the past week. They will all have residential addresses on their entry, and that will allow us to either identify the lady or to cross her off our list.
There really wasn’t anything else of note in the documents Danneel had copied for us, but we went over them very carefully several times. We were all starting to go cross-eyed by the time Danneel popped up on my vidscreen to say she was coming over.
On to Part 2
Author/Artist: candygramme
Type of fanwork(s): fic, slash
Genre/Characters/Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC17
Beta: My beloved spoonlessone
Wordcount: 18,800
>b>Author's Notes Written for spn-in-space 2012. Jensen is a private eye of the old school, based on a space resort that caters for high end clients, When movie star Jared Padalecki retains him to find out who is trying to kill him, he bites off a little more than he can chew. Good job he's telepathic!
She strode into my office like she owned it and, trust me, I would have given it to her if she'd wanted it.
"My mother is a fish" she told me, and all I could think of to say was, "Mine just drinks like one. Take a seat."
I leaned forward and tried to look sincere. She had a perfect rack, and wasn't afraid of sharing it. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?" I asked her.
"I want you to find somebody for me," she murmured, batting eyelashes that were altogether too long to be human.
"Will I do?" I asked her, wistfully.
“Only if you can find her for me - the perfect woman," she told me, and I winced. No happy ending for me, unless the two of them would let me watch.
“Can’t guarantee to find her, but I can guarantee to give it my best shot,” I murmured, and rose to my feet to reach for my fedora. “I charge two hundred a day plus expenses. Who do you want me to find?”
“Her name is Carmen. Carmen SanDiego…”
“Boss.” The earth was shaking. I was in an earthquake. Flailing wildly, I narrowly avoided falling off my chair and dashing my brains out as my idiot clerk shook me in an attempt to get my attention. There was drool on my chin, and I think some lost gorilla had taken a dump in my mouth. Maybe two of them; I dunno. Someone needs to do something about the damned gorilla infestation around here. It’s not something that should happen to an honest citizen, certainly not here on Astra Major. Not - of course - that I would class myself as an honest citizen. I’m a private eye, and that makes me somewhat shady before I even start. It goes with the label.
And for you ground huggers, Astra Major, also known as Bel Air in the Air, is definitely fertile ground for private eyes, because it caters exclusively to the rich and famous, and is peopled with elderly misers working on their fourteenth marriage to bimbos who are in it for the money, and tinsel town types who are all doing dirty things behind each others’ backs. Yep, I’m one of those creeps that batten on the wealthy, and I’m never short of sleazy employment.
I’m a private eye, like I said, but that doesn’t mean I’m rolling in money. I do okay, in that I can always - well almost always - afford another bottle of hooch, even if it isn’t the kind of quality you’d expect if you’re a ground hugger. I have an office and it has three rooms, one for my desk, one for my bed and one for the aforementioned idiot clerk to sit and try to look alert while waiting to masquerade as my receptionist.
Other people get perky blondes with impressive credentials. Me. I got the Chad.
What? Well, at least he’s blond.
And he just woke me up. I guess he can be forgiven for waking me from a dream that I don’t think was gonna do me any favors.
I squinted at him, trying to get both eyes to track together, and he squinted right back at me.
“What?” I said, finally.
“Someone here to see you, boss,” he said. I rolled my eyes. He only called me boss when he wanted something, so I knew that this was gonna be some kind of setup, but I was too sleep-riddled to argue, so I just nodded.
“Gimme a minute to set myself to rights, and then show him in… It is a him, isn’t it?” Chad beamed.
“Sure is, boss,” he said. “I’ll make coffee, okay?”
The way to my heart is through coffee. He knows that, and if there’s a shot of Beaver’s patented rotgut in there too, then I’ll pretty much roll over and play dead on command. The little fucker gets me with it every time. “Do that, Chad,” I murmured, and reached for a clean handkerchief to start making myself look pretty for the client.
It wasn’t a minute later that he was back, and bearing a large mug of heaven in his hands. I accepted it with my usual charm and sipped. All was right with the world as I nodded to Chad. “Show him in,” I said, feeling my pores open as they were wreathed by the fragrant steam.
It’s one of those sayings I never understood before, but when I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. I’d seen him before, from a distance of course. He was one of those ‘beautiful people’ you see on the sensos, and there are always stories about him playing on TMZOMG, but close up it was all I could do to stay sitting upright instead of falling to my knees like some kind of shitkicker rube and worshipping him. Hell, I had to restrain myself from reaching for my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the brilliance of his fucking smile. I may have looked like someone had just inserted an ice-pop into my nether regions, but he didn’t seem to notice.
I looked him up and down, and then up again, because he went up a long, long way. He was built like the lunar module, perfect and shiny with every working part functioning to maximum. He had a pair of shrewd, cat-like eyes, cheekbones that would cut like glass, a heroic chin and a thick, glossy mane of hair that curled down below his shoulders, with gems and feathers tied into it so that they glittered if he turned his head. I didn’t speak, and I didn’t move, because I was totally paralyzed, basking in the warmth of his presence, but it didn’t seem to faze him. I guess being an intergalactic heart-throb inures you to that kind of thing. He gave me the aforementioned beaming smile, and held out his hand to shake.
It took a moment to get my motor skills to kick in, but I managed to take it and shake it without keeling over. Go me! It took me a few more moments, but I succeeded in indicating the chair that Chad had so thoughtfully imported from the outer office and he took a seat. Holding his hand had given me an insight as to how he was feeling, but his thoughts were really too chaotic to sort out. He was scared though; that much came through loud and clear. Also loud and clear was his appreciation of my face. I could tell from the flavor of his thoughts that he was open to a relationship, and I do mean open!
“Good morning, Mr. Padalecki,” I croaked. “Ackles Detective Agency at your service. How may I help you?” Behind him, I could see Chad making the crude sign for ‘loser’ in an unnecessarily obscene fashion, and I frowned.
“Call me Jared,” said the man, favoring me with a set of matched dimples that I hear were insured for a million solaros apiece.
“Jared thinks someone is trying to kill him.” That was Chad, who was no longer making rude gestures, but who apparently believed he still had business in my office with me and Mr. Movie Star. I cast a quelling glance at him, but unfortunately he remained unquelled. “I told him to come see you. I told him you were the best in the business.”
In a way, Chad isn’t wrong. I am the best in the business here on Bel Air in the Air. I’m the only licensed gumshoe here - like Mad Magazine, I’m number one in a field of one. I refrained from telling Mr… uh… Jared that, however. I merely nodded graciously and started to ask the probing questions us gumshoes are famous for.
“What makes you think someone’s trying to kill you?” I asked. Straight to the point - that’s me. I’ve never been one for small talk. I steepled my fingers and leaned forward, attempting to radiate competence, integrity and a certain devil may care charm that I assure you I was very far from feeling. Jim Rockford, eat your heart out, I thought.
“My home was firebombed last night.” Jared’s voice was a little quieter than usual as he spoke. “I’d been held back to film another scene, because Ganymede was full, and they needed to get the shot right then, before it set behind Jupiter. I was outside, so I was lucky. The fuckers killed my housekeeper, and they got my lazoon too.”
“You had a lazoon?” I frowned. “Could’ve been PETA, I guess.” Those people for the ethical treatment of aliens were everywhere these days. I wouldn’t have put it past them to be the ones orchestrating an attack on the man who boasted a lazoon.
“How ethical is it to firebomb a cute critter like a lazoon?” Jared sounded offended, and I held up my hand to halt any threatened interruption to my train of thought. That train got derailed often enough without any help from outside. “Besides, it’s not the first time.”
“You’ve been firebombed before?” I could see how he might think someone was trying to kill him, if that was the case, but, to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, to miss firebombing the victim once, may be regarded as a misfortune; to miss twice looks like carelessness. I wondered what his insurance claim might total.
“Not firebombed exactly.” Jared went on the air again, and I shut my inner commentary down and listened. “Genevieve and I were at the opening of the Precious Things Gallery the night that everyone was gunned down.”
I remembered that. It had happened Earthside, and the news had even reached us here in the Asteroid Belt on Astra Major. Around fifty of the beautiful people had been gunned down in a raid that had possibly been a little too over the top to just be considered revenge for that remake of “Pearl Harbor.” Now, I raised my eyebrow in my patented Ackles interrogatory expression number three. “So how did you escape the bloodbath?”
“It was pure luck, actually.” Jared seemed to be responding well to my eyebrow. “Genevieve got a call and went out back to take it. We’d been rowing, and I followed her, because I knew it was her damned bit on the side calling her, and I wanted to yell and scream some more at her, just so I could make myself look more pathetic. I was just getting into my stride when the killers broke in, back inside the gallery. I heard the screams and jumped into the dumpster. Genevieve ran, I don’t know where to, because then I caught a jumpdart and came back here.”
I frowned, adding things up. They didn’t add up to a whole lot, but it certainly looked as if Jared Padalecki had a fairy godmother following him around with a specific mandate to keep him out of trouble. She must’ve been napping when he took up with Genevieve, nee Cortese, of the Sicilian Brotherhood. Genevieve was cute, if you like ‘em little and cold blooded. She had thick, dark hair and wielded a mean stiletto, and I’m not talking shoes here. She’d surrounded herself with the rich and braindead, and was seen most often in the company of chicks like Paris and Lindsay. I wondered who the boyfriend was, and whether he might be a suspect. That would be easy enough to check. I nodded, giving him my cutest lop-sided, ironic smile in the hopes that he would continue talking. He did.
“And then there was my car. I’ve got a perfect copy of a vintage Ferrari. I was due to race it at the new Le Mans 24 hour race in a bio-pic about Steve McQueen, but some fucker jinxed the steering, and my driver, Clif, ran it over a cliff on the way down to the south of France. Pretty ironic when you think about it.” He shook his head, almond eyes filled with sorry. “I miss Clif. He was the only one who could do a steak just right.”
I nodded again. Sympathy was in order, A person who knew exactly how to cook a steak was a rare treasure, and the loss would hurt. Of course, I’d only ever eaten real, bona fide cowflesh once in my life, and I have no idea if it was done to perfection or not. All I know is that I could live on that shit very easily. I just needed to make a lot more money than I usually do.
I thought that it was time to start pulling the strands together. I gave him a smile with eye crinkles and ticked off thoughts on my fingers. “Chad, write this down,” I commanded, watching approvingly as he rushed around to find a pencil and a notebook. He’s not the brightest bulb in the box by any means, but he’s definitely able to follow simple commands. He was on his best behavior too, I could tell. For sure he was gonna hit me up for a favor later; I could just feel it coming, but no matter, right now he was pulling out all the stops.
“First,” I said. “We need to find out who Genevieve’s special friend is, and find out if he’s made it up here to Astra Major.” Jared - was it wrong of me to be thinking of the dude as Jared already? I usually maintained my servile attitude when confronted with senso stars who could buy and sell me without noticing any change in their income - Jared was nodding along with my pronouncement.
“So you’re gonna take me on?” he asked. I gave him sincere smile number seven - the one with the eye crinkles and just a smidgeon of world weariness.
“I sure am,” I said. “My rates are… five hundred per day, plus expenses.” I thought that Chad was going to swallow his tongue, so I hurried on. “Second, we need a list of Genevieve’s known associates and to check if any of them have any connection with CentauriCorp or either of the Astra sites.”
“You think Genevieve is the one trying to have me liquidated?” Jared asked me. I smirked and reached to pat his hand. The poor thing looked as if someone had just eaten his kitten - or his lazoon. He was a little up-market for mere kittens.”
“I don’t think anything yet. I’m just starting in the logical place.” I nodded to him as I cast a sly look to check that he was okay with my quoted rates. “First we eliminate all the obvious possibilities and then we look at what’s left. I need to know how things are between you and Genevieve. I can’t help but acknowledge that she’s a member of a very select and rather sinister family. Without wishing to disparage the lady I’ve heard that she can be a little ruthless.”
“Yeah. She’s definitely determined to have things the way she wants them. That isn’t a bad thing, although she sometimes takes it to extremes.” Jared looked a little sheepish, and I raised the eyebrow at him. “She wanted me to stay Earthside with her, and we had a fight. I make sensos - it’s what I do. I told her I didn’t want to become just a satellite for her, and she decided that we were incompatible.”
“So you’re getting a divorce?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” He folded his arms over his impressive chest and leaned back in the rickety chair. I didn’t speak. “She’s Sicilian. They don’t do divorces.”
His words sounded final, and his face reflected as much. I gave him a ‘what can you do’ expression and sat back. “So you want me to take the case?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Looks like I got myself a dick.”
“I prefer the term gumshoe, thank you, but I can be a dick on occasion.” I laughed. What can I say? I thought it was funny. “Okay. It sounds like we need to make sure you’re safe. I guess it’s not possible to go back to your quarters, what with it being a crime scene and all. I’m not sure what we can do with you, but we certainly need to get you out of the picture temporarily. How prepared are you to rough it for a while?”
“What do you mean, ‘rough it’?” he asked me, and I began to lay out my plan.
***
Chad may be kinda dumb, but he’s a mean fighter, and he’s learned all kinds of lethal arts. The dude could kill you with a potato chip; I’m not kidding. I left him to take care of Jared, while I went to do a little investigating of my own. My first move was to go see Danni at Admin Central over on Astra Minor.
Let me explain a little about the setup here. Astra Major is the resort. It’s got room for twelve thousand guests at a time, with all the services you could possibly want, even if you were the most demanding rich guy in the known universe. The service staff are mostly live in, but some of them - the contractors, and therapists and folk such as yours truly all commute from the Admin and service section on Astra Minor. I have an apartment there, although I rarely see it, because I prefer to stay close to the shop.
As I made my way over to the portpad, I tried to shut my mind off from the perpetual hubbub that always assails me when I’m out in public. I get called a loner amongst all kinds of other, somewhat more derogatory terms, but honestly it’s self defense. When I’m in a crowd it’s really hard to concentrate on anything because of the noise generated by all those minds. One of the reasons I sleep over here on Bel Air in the Air is because the walls are all screened, for the A-listers. Wouldn’t want to disturb the peace and tranquility of all those poor little rich kids. The menials over on Minor don’t have the fancy screens, and that means the whole time I’m there, I am pretty much unable to hear myself think. No way can I retain my sanity in an environment like that unless I’m shielded, and right now the only shield I can afford is 80% proof. Maybe some day I’ll be able to afford something slightly less - shall we say - unorthadox - but the new drugs are a little out of my price range right now, so I have to make do with what I’ve got.
So I made my way to portpad B, the one that transports you to the buzzing hive of industry that is Astra Minor, and the head offices of the Centauri Corporation, where I was hoping to be able to score a little information with which I could impress my new meal ticket. I would be fine just so long as the woman I was going to see didn’t actually smell my breath.
Old Beaver is hardly the best single malt that’s out there. It does the job, and it costs me three solaros a quart, so it suits my lifestyle. When I’m not drinking it, I use it to melt handcuffs and eat away at solid walls. It’s that good.
The slightly nauseating twist in reality as I was ported from Major over to Minor was something I’ve never gotten used to. Douglas Adams described it perfectly when he said “It’s a bit like being drunk...” to a glass of water. However, I survived, as I always do.
The corridors of Minor have a whole other look from those at Bel Air in the Air. Over there, the emphasis is on spaciousness, greenery, luxury. Minor has steel walls that haven’t seen a lick of paint since the place was first commissioned. I hopped out of the portpad and greeted the techie there whose job it was to reset for the next lucky traveler.
“Hey, Chris, how they hangin’?” Chris gave me a grin and made a rude gesture with the weird gadget in his hands that I like to think of as his sonic screwdriver.
“They don’t hang in zero gravity, son; they kinda wave around in the breeze.” Chris gave me a smirk, and I caught a faint thought from him that he was due to go off duty shortly.
“Long day?” I asked him.
“Long enough,” he replied. “Gonna be over Bel Air side later. Playin’ the Holodeck tonight. Come along and have yourself a good evening.”
“Sounds awesome,” I replied. Maybe I’d take him up on that. Chris is good people, and he’s useful to know. I gave him a grin. “Hey, do you keep a log of who comes through the gate here?” I asked him. “Got a job right now that might need that kind of info.”
“Sure.” He went over to the terminal beside the portpad and hit a switch. “How far back do you want to go?”
According to what Padalecki had told me, he’d only been back on the resort for a couple of days. “Let’s say since Tuesday, shall we?” I asked him. “Don’t suppose it covers everyone heading up to Major as well?”
Chris frowned. “You gonna get up onstage with me tonight and sing, instead of lurking in the corner being surly?” he said, eyebrow raised.
“Fuck, man, you know I hate performing.” I was pleading; I knew it. So did he, and he wasn’t giving ground at all. Guess the Ackles’ innocent and sad expression number fifteen doesn’t always hit its mark. “Oh, goddammit, okay. For that kind of intel, I’ll sing anything you like for you.”
“It’s gonna take me a little while to get the info for you, so how about I pass it to you later, over in the club.”
I knew what he was doing, the bastard. He’d withhold the info until I paid up. I couldn’t complain, because that’s exactly what I’d do in his case, so I gave in with good grace, gave him the finger-gun salute and told him I’d see him later.
Minor is a rabbit warren, corridors and offices are all around the hub, with living accommodations out on the rim of the station where gravity is a little higher. They don’t keep gravity at full earthside levels, because it helps the freight deliveries to keep it low. Thing is, it changes all the time, depending on the time of day, and this was something one just had to accept. Right now, it was really low, and I figured that they must be unloading one of the supply barges up from the hydroponics farm on Ceres. Sighing philosophically, I grabbed hold of one of the sliderails that was moving in the direction I wanted and let it take me where I needed to go.
CentauriCorp takes up most of the middle wheel of Astra Minor. I headed towards the main control room at membership central, hoping that the person I wanted to see was on duty. The gods were obviously smiling on me, because when I crossed the waiting area and vaulted the counter behind it, I could see the shapely ass of the woman I was looking for. She was bent over the drawer of a filing cabinet, rummaging through its contents, and I could hear a steady litany of expletives issuing from her vicinity, Congratulating myself that I’d caught her in a good mood, I stepped up behind her and slapped her rump in what I thought was a friendly fashion.
She may not have thought so, since she whipped up and around and had a stapler pressed up against my forehead before I could draw breath. I was in awe. One of these days I should pit her against Chad in a knock-down-drag-out fight. My money would be on Danneel, just so you know. There’s a limit to where the ancient writings of Shaolin monks will take you. Danneel knows no such limits.
“Lay one more finger on me, you gnarfworm, and you’ll never be able to take your hat off again.” I raised my hands hurriedly. I love my fedora; it makes me think of my heroes, dudes like Sam Spade, Mike Hammer and Philip Marlow. Course, I’m better at the detective shit than they were, because I can read minds, and I know for sure when I’ve caught the bad guy, but when all is said and done, nobody ever wore a fedora with more style than those guys.
“Love you too, baby girl,” I said, making a kissy face at her. She snorted.
“Honey, I’d believe that if I thought for one minute you’d ever been able to get it up for a lady.” The stapler was withdrawn, much to my relief, and she gave me a long, hard look. “To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of this encounter, Ackles?” she asked.
“Awww, Danni, you really know how to sweet talk a guy, don’t you?” I gave her sexy smirk #1 - guaranteed to melt the stony hearts of school principals and female corporate bosses. She snorted again. Just my luck that she was immune to my charms! I liked girls occasionally - who didn’t? But I was much more interested in hard, male bodies than the squishy ones most women possessed.
“I came to see if you’d like to put on your pretties and go to the Holodeck with me tonight, over on Bel Air.” Well, okay, that wasn’t really what I’d come for, but, hey, you make use of what you’ve got, don’t you?
“The Holodeck, huh? What’s the occasion? You stole someone’s gold fillings or something?” Her lip was curling and her tone was sarcastic, but her eyes were saying yes. I gave her my best charming, boyish grin. I haven’t actually catalogued that one yet, but watch this space. I’m still trying it out.
“Chris and his boys are playing a gig at the Holodeck tonight, and I thought you might like to join me for the festivities.” It was the truth as far as it went, and after studying me for a few minutes she gave me a much more genuine smile.
“You know, that sounds like fun. I haven’t been over to Bel Air for a while. Maybe I’ll go formal and paint my skin.” This was good. Danneel looks awesome most of the time, even in the plaspaper coveralls they give you as a work uniform here at CentauriCorp, but when she gets herself up to go dancing she’s like a lightning strike to the gonads. Even I can see her charm, and I really don’t swing that way.
“We’ll have fun. Maybe I’ll introduce you to my new client,” I said, knowing that would score her some brownie points and also ease her around to talking about the case.
“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Who you got that might be worth a full skin treatment?”
I gave her my most mysterious smile. “Definitely worth it. He’s the original tall, dark and handsome.” The jab to my solar plexus made me cough a little. She gets impatient when I hold out on her, the vixen. “Aww, don’t be like that, Dan, my man. It was gonna be a fun surprise for you.”
“I don’t like your kind of surprises, Ackles. Fess up or wear your bruises proudly.” She straightened her hand and made a jabbing motion towards my groin. I gave in.
“None other than Jared Padalecki, the toast of the silver screen. Have you seen...” I got no further. She squealed and flung her arms around my neck.
“Oh, my god, I love him! Did you see him in “Hell For Leather”? He was amazing.” Her eyes were shining as if she’d just seen a pair of antique Manolos with her name on them. I nodded. Sure I’d seen him. I love the sensos, and the man was built to last, with what looked like the biggest cock in the known universe. Not, of course, that such things weigh with me... much!
“Yeah. I’m doing some stuff for him. He seems like a nice guy.” I could see her thoughts whirl around before my eyes, and reflected that I needed to drink the contents of my hipflask fairly soon if I didn’t want to be banjaxed before I made it back to the relative quiet of Bel Air. She was thinking about possibly becoming the next Mrs. Jared Padalecki, a thought I could get behind, with one comparatively minor alteration.
“That’s awesome. Can I do anything to help?” she asked, and, ladies and gentlemen, we had a winner!
“You sure?” I said. “Because there is something. “You get all the bills of lading and deets on the ships that come in from Earthside, don’t you? I don’t want to put you to any trouble, but...”
“No trouble,” she chirped, “Come on back.” Turning, she headed back into the stacks and paused at a filing cabinet labeled with the CentauriCorp Earth logo. “These are the regular supply vessels,” she indicated the top drawer. “They come in every Friday, and their contents is checked off against the manifests in the folder with their name. These ones are the freighters that call in on their way to Marsport. Anything they drop off is in the ship folder as an import.” I nodded. This was better than I expected. She was going to turn me loose with the files. “Finally, all the private jetabouts and that kind of thing are detailed in here. She kicked the bottom drawer with one dainty, booted foot. “Customs goes over them even though there isn’t any duty to pay, because there are a whole whack of items that are prohibited here. In space, no-one can hear you scream, remember?”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. “This whole thing is because someone tried to burn Jared in his apartment. They actually killed off his housekeeper and his prize alien critter. We’ve got to stop this, Danni, before something really bad happens and the whole of Bel Air burns out, or explodes, or something equally drastic.”
“Oh, my God!” She shoved me to one side and reached for the drawer she’d kicked. “Here. You look through the freight manifests; I’ll check out the ships and crew.”
***
Armed with the kind of info I needed, I bade Danneel a fond farewell and headed back to my office. Chad was busily impressing Jared with his Nam Pai Chuan kung fu. I’m sure it actually is a form of kung fu, and it looks mighty impressive. I still think Chad needs to tone it down a little, but I’ve gotta say, when he’s going through one of his forms his entire body transforms from scrawny, squinty little rat-faced thing to a flow of deadly, graceful intent. He looks like he could just pour himself through keyholes, and once in a while I’m really convinced that he does exactly that.
I hired Chad for his abilities, and they are simple. Chad can hold his own in the worst possible fight, but that’s only one of his skills. The one I prize above all is the fact that Chad can steal anything. It’s a strange skill for someone of the Martian aristocracy to have, and you’ll appreciate that he doesn’t actually broadcast his skills, but I’ve gotta say I cherish the day I first met The Chadster. The dude broke into my room on a dare, and as it happens I hadn’t taken my morning dose of Old Beaver special, and I heard him loud and clear. The rest, as they say, is history.
“Okay,” I murmured, moving over to my desk and dumping the papers I’d collected from Danneel in an untidy heap. “I’ve got some stuff to start looking through.” Taking my seat, I reached under the desk for a bottle of oblivion, AKA Beaver’s rotgut. I raised it to my lips and took a slug directly from the bottle, shuddering as it took the skin off the back of my throat on the way down. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I filled a tumbler and then reached for my flask to fill it up.
“Now,” I said, giving a sigh of relief as the mental onslaught to which I’d been exposed slowly faded, leaving me with a warm, fuzzy feeling. I could still hear the two men in the room with me, but the chaos that had been battering me all the way home was gone. Chad was still working through his long form, and his thoughts were calm and somehow predatory, totally unlike his usual persona. Jared on the other hand was wound tighter than a watchspring. His brain was buzzing, and I could hear the suspicions that he was entertaining. The man was convinced that his wife had taken out a contract on him, and what I found really fascinating about that was the reason for it. Mr. Movie Star had been seeing other people - multiple other people, and the kicker was the fact that the people he’d been seeing were all random strangers at one of Old Hollywood’s seamier gay bars.
I’d have thought that there was safety in numbers, but Ms. Cortese had apparently not subscribed to that school of thought, because the scene she had caused stood out in Padalecki’s memory as being around ten times more terrifying than the last attack by Jovian Slithes. I tossed the man a handful of waybills and suggested that he start looking through them for anything he might recognise. Meanwhile, I was going through the lists of people who had passed through immigration to board Astra Major. Chad continued placidly slaughtering his imaginary opponents, and all was suddenly peace and quiet.
Some time had passed when I finally spotted something that might be interesting and sat forward with a soft curse. Chad had by this time had finished eliminating thin air and gone off into the other room to do something. I called Jared over to take a look at what I’d found, and he crossed to stand at my side just as Chad returned bearing a tray on which reposed three mugs of coffee. I nodded at him.
“Okay, Chad, you may live another day. This is good.”
He deposited the tray on my desk and sat down in the chair Padalecki had just vacated. “Good thing too, boss,” he said, reaching for one of the mugs. “Got me a date tonight. Going to the Holodeck for movie night.”
That was interesting. “Me too. I saw Kane when I was over on Minor, and he invited me. I’m bringing Danni with me.” I turned to Jared. “Don’t suppose you’d care to come? My buddy Christian makes good, earthy rock music. You never know, it might lift your spirits some.”
The dimples flickered as he beamed at me, and I didn’t have to see his thoughts to know what he was thinking. To tell the truth I was absolutely okay with it. The man was hot, and I hadn’t been laid for a long, long time. He nodded acceptance to me and then frowned. “Talking about lifting spirits, I can’t help but notice that you’re drinking rather a lot.”
“Yeah.” I was taken aback. Most people don’t mention it; they just think I’m a lush, and in a way they’re right, although it isn’t through choice. “I have an unfortunate tendency to get overloaded by other peoples’ thoughts if I don’t keep it under control, and as Antipathy is rather more expensive than I can afford, the best I can do is keep it down with rotgut.”
He pursed his lips as if in thought. “Interesting. You know that there are classes you can take where you learn to filter thoughts and block what you don’t want to listen to?”
I gave him a cynical smile. “Yeah. Find me one that’ll take someone on who smells of cheap booze all the time, and I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He beamed at me again, wide and white, and I felt an unfamiliar clench in my gut. Fumbling in his pocket he took out a small blister pack containing maybe nine or ten pills, Three had already been used. I raised my eyes to meet his in mute inquiry.
“Go on, take it. There’s about four days supply there, and I can get more in the morning.”
“What is it?” I was fairly sure I knew what it was, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“Antipathy of course.” Well, that was a turnup for the books.
“You’re a telepath?” I asked him, once I’d collected my scattered wits again.
“Not quite,” he said. “Empath. Feelings and emotions rather than hard thoughts, but I can damp it down when I take Antipathy to the state where I have to touch someone to know what they’re feeling. Try it. I’m guessing your own thought processes will be much clearer on it than cheap whisky.”
“Don’t dignify this shit with the name of whisky. I had whisky once and it didn’t taste even slightly like panther piss.” I studied the blister pack in fascination, looking for the instructions on dosage.
“Take one every six hours,” he said. “And how do you know what panther piss tastes like? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Figure of speech.” I popped a tab and swallowed it down with a gulp of coffee, It wasn’t long before I felt it take effect, and the clarity of focus I could suddenly manage made me gasp. The extraneous hubbub was gone, but as I studied Jared, I could hear his thoughts coming through perfectly clearly. He was interested in me! This was going to be a good night; I could tell. Catching sight of the papers next to the mug as I set it down, I recalled what I’d found a few moments earlier. “Look at this,” I murmured, indicating the line I’d found on the lists that Danneel had printed off for me. “A lady named Jennifer Curtis landed on Minor three days ago and ported over here same day. She is down as having bounced up from Old Hollywood on a liner called the Sicilia. That seems to me to be a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Jennifer Curtis?” Jared frowned for a moment, and then his brow cleared. “Oh, fuck! You don’t think...?”
“I think it bears investigating,” I said. “And if we head over to the Holodeck we should be able to find out more, because Chris is bringing with him a list of all the travelers through the portpads between Major and Minor for the past week. They will all have residential addresses on their entry, and that will allow us to either identify the lady or to cross her off our list.
There really wasn’t anything else of note in the documents Danneel had copied for us, but we went over them very carefully several times. We were all starting to go cross-eyed by the time Danneel popped up on my vidscreen to say she was coming over.
On to Part 2