Supermax
Green-Eyed Monster
by David Leeson
(cliodule@hotmail.com)

SuperMax

Green-Eyed Monster (102)
(Adapted from "Trouble-Chaser" by Paul Cain)

TEASER

I hate parties. When I heard the Fleet was having a party, I didn't want to go. A party is a gift economy. The more you give, the richer you are, and I'm almost always broke. It's embarrassing.

Why am I always broke? Because I don't have any outside connections, that's why. I was a freedom fighter, not a gangster.

You can get anything in Supermax if you've got connections. Sex, drugs, porn, holo, nano--whatever you want. It's easy. Some of the guards are honest, and they shake us down pretty regularly, to keep up appearances. But there are lots of places to hide stuff, and most of the hacks are just looking for a cut. Some of them are dealers themselves. One of the Unit Supervisors makes a fortune selling contraband food. Klingon convicts will kill for fresh gagh--and I do mean kill.

I'm a small-time operator by comparison. Mostly, I sell information. I did work for Starfleet Intelligence, after all. But you can't give away information at a party. Well--you can, but no one remembers it afterwards.

So I didn't want to go. But the Captain made it clear that he wanted all senior officers to attend. He'd gone to a lot of trouble arranging this. Gleeson, a friendly hack, would be watching things from the Tower, to make sure no one disturbed us. Even the guys from other Units would be there. We'd had a good year, and it was time to relax and get high.

So, I went. Officer Korchinski let me into a service hallway about an hour after lunch. We have to party in the afternoon, so we can stumble back to our pods in time for lockdown. Appearances are very important on Sundancer.

The party was already underway. As soon as I walked in, I ran into Lewis, from Unit Nine. Lewis worked as an orderly in the Hospital, and he was one of the biggest drug dealers in the Fleet. He sold stuff from the pharmacy to lightweights like me, but he made most of his money dealing paralethine, a very popular and very addictive narcotic analgesic that everyone calls Jesus.

"Jaff," said Lewis. He must have come right from work: he was still wearing his hospital scrubs. But he was already warped. He put his arm around my shoulder, and offered me a disposable hypospray. "Have you found Jesus, brother?" he asked. "Have you accepted Him as your personal saviour?"

I shook my head. Paralethine scares the hell out of me. Jesus freaks will do anything for another hypo. Anything. "Sorry, Lewis," I said. "I'm a Muslim, remember?"

"So what?" he said, with a glassy smile. "Muslims don't believe in Jesus?"

"Not the way you do," I said. Especially not the way you do, I thought.

Lewis looked confused for a second, then smiled again, and patted me on the chest. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. Sure, I get it. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations, right?"

"Right," I said. "Got any killers?"

"Sure," said Lewis. He gave me a couple of rexalones. I thanked him, swallowed the killers, and looked around. Mick the Mech was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, staring into space, smiling and drooling. He was wired--feeding electrical current to the pleasure centre of his brain. Mick was a pretty weird guy.

M'rorr was over in the corner, talking to the Captain. I walked over. "Captain," I said.

"Lieutenant," said Captain Henderson. M'rorr offered me a snakebite. "Ex astris, scientia," he said.

"No, thanks," I said, shaking my head. Eumorphine is almost as bad as paralethine. "I don't do snake, hairball. You know that."

M'rorr sniffed. "Pussy," he said.

"That's pretty funny coming from a Caitian," I said.

M'rorr and the Captain both laughed. The Captain told us to enjoy ourselves, and moved away. M'rorr sighed. "I sure would pounce on some pussy right now," he said

"Yeah," I said, thinking about Kalila. "Me too. Got any stacies?"

"Yeah," he said, and gave me couple of heliols. I don't go to warp very often, but when I do, I like to mix and match. You know-infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Rexalone with heliol is my favourite. It gets me numb and happy, and it's a soft landing afterward. What goes up must come down, and it pays to think ahead.

I was swallowing hairball's heliols when I heard Bunny say, "Did somebody mention pussy?" He hugged me from behind. "Hi, Jaff."

"Hey, Bunny," I said. Bunny was Tiny Tim's girlfriend. You know-his prison girlfriend. His bitch. In the Fleet, we call them "yeomen." Our little joke.

You may wonder why I let Bunny hug me. Well, Bun was pretty cute, and I'd been inside a long time... But seriously, it was just his way. His people's way. Bunny was an alien-a Switch. A L'Chal'dah. Switches touch a lot, and embrace to say hello or goodbye.

It took some getting used to, at first. The first time it happened, I thought for sure that Tim was going to kill us both. But Tim just laughed at me. Bun could touch us, but we couldn't touch Bunny. Those were the rules.

I turned around. Bunny didn't let go. I was starting to wish he would. I had been inside a long time, and Bun was pretty cute, in a sexless, alien way. He looked like an elf, and he was starting to make me uncomfortable. He smiled at me, and looked at M'rorr over my shoulder. "Excuse us, cat man."

"Sure thing," said M'rorr. He padded away.

"Come on, Bunny, get off," I said. He just kept smiling, leaned closer, and whispered: "We have to get rid of Tim."

I almost forgot the rules and pushed him away. I glanced over at Tiny Tim. He was talking with the Captain and Commander Shishkin, from Unit Eight. I gave Bunny a disgusted look, and said: "That isn't funny, Bun. Get off me. Now."

Bunny let go. "No, I mean, just for a minute," he said. "I've got something I want to show you. It's a secret." He looked over at Tim, then back to me. "Wait here," he said, and went over to Tim.

I waited. Bunny snuggled up to Tim. Tim put one of his huge arms around Bun's waist and looked up at him, smiling. I couldn't hear what Bun was saying, but eventually Tim nodded, excused himself, and left the room.

Bunny came back and took my arm. "I sent Tim back for some flash," he said. "Come on. This way." I let Bunny steer me out of the room and into the corridor, wondering what was going on.

Bunny and Tim had a strange relationship. Like I've said, Tiny Tim was a Polyphemian. His homeworld's gravity was almost twice as heavy as earth's, and he looked like a human shield volcano. Everyone was afraid of him, including me. I'd seen him beat a Klingon to death with his fists, like it was nothing.

If anyone else's yeoman had asked him to go get some drugs, they would have said: get your own drugs, bitch--and do my laundry while you're at it. But Tim was pretty soft on Bun, and he didn't like Bunny walking around alone. So he trotted all the way back to Unit Seven for some flash, just because Bunny asked him to. Like I said: strange.

"In here," said Bunny. We went into a washroom, out of sight, and out of the way. Even as I went inside, I was thinking, this is a bad idea. Like I said, Tim really liked Bunny, and Tim was one of the toughest convicts in the Big Time. I didn't want him getting the wrong impression. So I took Bunny's hand off my arm, stepped back, and said, "What's going on, Bun?"

He turned around, leaned against the washstand, and hugged himself, smiling. "I'm pregnant," he said.

ACT ONE

I blinked.

I guess I should back up at this point, and explain about Bun. Like I said, he was Tim's yeoman. But Bunny was no ordinary bitch. Bunny was a real girl. Sort of. Sometimes.

Switches are androgynous. That's why they call them Switches. They're not like the J'naii, though. Switches have males and females-just not all the time. The L'Chal'dah sexual cycle goes something like this. For three weeks out of every four, Switches are basically neuter. Then, at the start of the fourth week, they go into estrus. The one that goes into heat first becomes female. Its partner becomes male. The whole process lasts for about a week: two days to heat up, three days of mating, then two days of cooling off. Then, for the next three weeks, they're just not interested in sex.

L'Chal'dah families are...interesting. Sometimes they're monogamous, and sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they mate as males, and sometimes as females. As a result, many Switches become both mothers and fathers. Of course, in Bun's case, there were no other Switches around-just a bunch of male aliens. So Bunny became a female, every time. For a few days every month, he became a she. And when she was in heat, she wanted it-badly. She was every boy's dream. Except, she was really a he. And he looked like a boy himself.

I heard they had trouble choosing a Unit for Bunny. They didn't want to put a woman in a prison for men, even if he's only a woman for a few days a month. They could have put him in Unit Three, with the females; but he would have had the same problem there, only in reverse-and those bitches are even nastier than we are. Some Klingon bulldyke would have cut it off, for sure. No danger of that with us.

On the other hand, Bunny was an air-breathing humanoid, so it made no sense to put him in the freakshow, Unit Twelve. And they couldn't justify sending him down to Unit Zero. He just wasn't that dangerous. So finally, they shrugged and stuck him in Unit Seven, with us. Lucky him.

"Well?" he said. "Aren't you going to congratulate me? I've never been a mother before."

"Congratulations," I said. "When, uh...how long..."

He looked amused. "How far along am I?"

"Yeah," I said.

"About a week," he said.

That surprised me. "How can you tell after just a week?"

"I stayed female after my Time," he said.

Oh. That made sense, I suppose. Bunny took out a small padd and showed it to me. "Here," he said. "This is a copy of the scan Dr. Chang took, yesterday." I'm no expert at reading medical scans, but it said Bunny was pregnant, sure enough.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"Lewis copied it for me," he said. She said. Whatever.

"Well," I said, thinking it over. "When are you going to tell Tim?"

"I'm not," he said.

Uh oh, I thought. "Why not?"

"Because Tim isn't the father."

Of course not. I felt like an idiot. Bunny had told me it was only a week. Tim wasn't even around a week ago. He'd been assigned to one of the work gangs that were helping the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.

The Sundancer Penal Colony was crowded. Too crowded. Once the original twelve units filled up, they towed a prison hulk into orbit and called it Unit Thirteen. But soon that was full too, so they finally started digging three new units: F-Block.

Tim had been pretty angry. He was going to miss Bunny's Time. But the construction was a good business opportunity-too good to pass up just for sex.

Officially, there was no sex allowed in Supermax. As Officer Tomak would say, "sexual intercourse is a violation of the code of conduct." But boys will be boys (or sometimes girls). The hacks were easy to bribe, and a lot of them just didn't care. And in Unit Seven, even a temporary female was a valuable commodity.

As a result, when he first arrived, Bunny got passed around a lot. First he belonged to one of the Ferengi, who made a small fortune pimping him. They used to line up outside his pod, once a month. It was pretty disgusting.

Then, for a while, he belonged to the Klingons. That wasn't much of an improvement. They were always fighting over him, and he spent a lot of time in D-Block's Infirmary. Klingon sex can be pretty rough.

Then one day, we were sitting around talking, and K'pok the Klingon walked by with Bunny, and Mick the Mech told a joke about first contact with the L'Chal'dah. Everybody laughed, except for Tiny Tim. He didn't get it.

"I don't get it," he said. Somehow, Tiny Tim had never heard about Switches. Sicko Sicoli explained it to him.

"You're kidding," said Tim. He looked over at Bun. I assured him that Sicko wasn't kidding.

Tim thought about it for a minute. Then he got up, walked over to Bunny, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him away from K'pok. "Come on, yeoman," said Tim. "You belong to me now."

That was some fight that followed. It was Tim versus the Klingons, and the Klingons lost. Three Klingons went to the Hospital, and Tiny Tim went to Solitary. He grinned at us when the hacks carried him away. "Take care of her till I get back," he said. We took care of Bunny until Tim got back. They've been together ever since.

It wasn't a bad deal for Bun. Better than belonging to a Ferengi or a Klingon. Tim treated him all right, for a yeoman, and nobody messed with him, cause everyone was afraid of Tim. But make no mistake: Tim was in command. He was always ready to slap Bunny back into line, if Bunny talked back or didn't follow orders. Every crew needs discipline.

And Tim still had enough Starfleet in him to let Bunny touch other guys, according to his people's traditions. But he wasn't going to be happy to find out that Bun had been sleeping around. I didn't know what he was going to do when he found out that Bun was pregnant with another con's baby. But like I said before, I'd seen Tim beat a Klingon to death. And that was just business.

I looked at Bun. He looked back. He didn't seem to realize that he was in serious trouble. Maybe he just didn't understand. Finally, I asked, "Who's the father?"

"See for yourself," he said, pointing to the padd.

I fiddled around with it. "I didn't know Humans and Switches could interbreed," I said.

"Humans will breed with anything," he said, which was true enough. We can, and we do. We have a bit of a reputation with other humanoids. Then another question occurred to me. There were no contraceptives for Switches, but the rest of us got regular shots. I was going to ask, how the hell, when the father came up on the screen, and I froze.

Lieutenant-Commander Douglas Sinclair, Starfleet Security. Unit Supervisor, Unit Seven, D-Block, Sundancer Penal Colony.

Bun took the note padd off my hands, and removed the memory chip. "This is my ticket out of here," he said.

"Here? Unit Seven?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Supermax," he said.

Bun explained that Commander Sinclair had been chasing him for weeks. Bun had finally decided to let Sinclair catch him. When Bunny was close to heating up, Sinclair had Tiny Tim assigned to one of the construction gangs. Then Bun and the Commander spent some Time together.

Bunny hadn't planned on getting pregnant. Starfleet officers take shots too, unless they're trying to have children. Commander Sinclair was married, to the other Commander Sinclair. She was Security Chief on the USS Ulugh Beg, a destroyer stationed at Starbase Eight. She was gone a lot, and everyone knew her husband liked to fool around with the female hacks. Bunny figured that Mrs. Sinclair had been trying to conceive. And like me, Sinclair hadn't known that Humans and Switches could interbreed.

Bunny wanted only one thing: to get out of Supermax. Sinclair could make that happen. He could get her transferred to Tantalus V, or even Club Fed, on Earth. And he was going to do it, or Bunny was going to transmit the information on that chip to Mrs. Sinclair and the Commandant. It had Dr. Chang's electronic signature on it, so there was no way it could be forged. It would mean the end of Sinclair's marriage, and his career. Bun wanted me to help because he knew I'd been with Starfleet Intelligence. I knew how to work these things, he said, which was true enough.

"Why don't you ask Tim to help you?" I said, stalling.

"Don't be a fool," said Bun, scowling. "If Tim knew about this, or found about it, he'd twist my head around backwards."

"How do you know I won't tell him?" I asked.

He put his hand on my chest. "I know you," he said.

Damn, I thought. I tried to talk him out of it. I told him that he was crazy to think he could blackmail Sinclair. I told him there was no way I was going to help him with something like this-it was just too dangerous. I told him that he was the fool, not me, to try something like this when Tim might find out before he could get away. I told him to go back to Dr. Chang and get it aborted.

Bunny took it pretty easily. He said he was sorry that I couldn't see it his way, and that he'd have to find somebody else or do it himself. He said it would have to done quickly, because the Ulugh Beg was due back from patrol in a couple of days, and Sinclair would be especially vulnerable with his wife coming in. And that we should get back to the party, before Tim returned and found us missing together.

We went back to the party. Nobody looked twice at us. Everyone in the Fleet knows that I've been faithful to Kalila. My marriage is the one thing in my life that I haven't wrecked, and I'd like to keep it that way. Plus, I've got a reputation as a Good Guy, not someone who'd fool around with someone else's yeoman. And besides, no one in the Fleet was crazy or sex-starved enough to make a move on Bunny. Not while he belonged to Tim the Polyphemian.

Tim came back with the flash, and Bunny offered me some, as if nothing had happened. Later on, I watched the two of them together. Bun was acting very femme, the way Tim liked. Tim always referred to Bunny as "her" and "she." I guess it made as much sense as "him." It. Whatever.

And then, despite the drugs, I felt pretty sorry for Bunny. Sorry, and angry: at all the cons who used to line up outside his pod; at the Klingons who treated him like a chew toy; at all the crooked hacks who looked the other way and let it happen; at Tim, and Sinclair. For a minute, I considered helping him after all. But only for a minute.

I left soon afterwards.

* * * * *

A lot of guys didn't make it to breakfast the next morning. The Fleet was crashing hard. Cratering, we called it. I felt fine myself.

I was coming back to Unit Seven from the Mess Hall when the alarm went off. Stott came running past me, yelling code black, lockdown, everybody back in your pods.

"Hey, Stott," I said, "what's going on?"

"A lockdown," she snarled. "Get back to your pod, Lieutenant."

I got back to my pod. I met Gleeson on the way, and asked him the same question. He shook his head. "The Switch," he said, "Bunny. Tim's yeoman. He's dead. Somebody strangled him. Go on-go back to your pod."

I didn't say anything. I went back to my pod. M'rorr hadn't got out of bed yet. He asked me what had happened. I sat down on my bunk, and told him.

Hairball thought about it, then rolled over. "That's too bad," he said groggily. "Bunny was okay."

"Yeah," I said, tightly. "Bunny was okay."

ACT TWO

They kept us locked down for most of the day, let us out for supper, then locked us down again afterward. I didn't see Tim in the Mess Hall. I asked around. Some of the guys had seen six hacks marching Tim out of the Unit, under arrest. Everybody figured Tim had killed Bunny, but nobody knew why. I kept my mouth shut

The lockdown ended the next morning. I looked around for Tim again at breakfast-still no sign. Then I walked back to my pod, and there he was, waiting. I said, "Hey, Tim," but he didn't answer. Instead, he stepped close to me and jabbed the Gun into my stomach.

The Gun was an EM-99 particle beam pistol. It belonged to the Fleet: it was our ultimate weapon. As far as I know, the Fleet was the only crew that ever smuggled a gun into Supermax. We'd never used it. We'd just kept it hidden, and threatened people with it, until now.

I walked into the pod and sat down on my bunk. Tim walked in behind me, and sat down next to me. He put one big arm around my neck, really friendly, to keep me close, and to keep the Gun out of sight. M'rorr saw the EM-99, and his eyes went wide. "Tim," he said.

"Shut up," said Tim. "Look out for the hacks." M'rorr shut up, and did as he was told.

I was pretty calm, at first. Thinking back, I'm amazed at how calm I was, at first. I was in very serious trouble. We all were. If I was lucky, Tim was going to shoot me. If I weren't lucky, the hacks would catch us with the Gun. The hacks tolerated sex and drugs. They didn't tolerate weapons. If they caught you with a shank, they put you in the Tank. I wasn't sure what they'd do if they caught us with a bolt thrower. Put us in the Tank for the rest of our lives, maybe. Or maybe just throw us out the airlock. We wouldn't live long on the dark side of Sundancer.

In a way, Tim was in worse trouble than I was. Nobody took out the Gun without the Captain's permission. Nobody. If the Captain found about this-even if the hacks didn't-Tiny Tim was dead. Discipline, remember. Tim was taking a crazy risk. He looked crazy. His eyes were red, and wild. I started to get scared.

"What's going on, Tim?" I asked.

He looked at me steadily. His face had no expression, and when he spoke, his voice was calm. "You killed Bunny," he said.

"I...No," I said, startled. I couldn't believe it. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," he said. "Yesterday morning, when the rest of us were cratering. It was you."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No. Tim, that's insane. Where did you get that idea?"

He said: "If you didn't kill her, you know who did. You talked to her alone, the night of the party, when I went back to the pod-the whole time I was gone. She was hiding something. You know it. You know what it was. Tell me what it was, or I'll kill you."

"I didn't kill Bunny, Tim."

"Tell me what it was," he said. His arm tightened around my neck. The muzzle of the Gun dug into my ribs.

They teach you how to lie in Starfleet Intelligence. The first rule of lying is, tell as much of the truth as possible. The truth is the easiest thing to remember. So I said: "He--she was pregnant, Tim."

Tim blinked. "What do you mean?"

"She was pregnant," I said. "That's what she told me the night of the party. That's what she was hiding. About a month, she said. Since her Time before last."

"No," he said. "I mean, I got my shot." He sounded uncertain. "How..."

I shrugged. "The shot doesn't always work, Tim." That was true, but accidents were rare.

"Why didn't she tell me?" he asked.

"She was scared," I said. "She didn't know how you were going to react, or what the hacks were going to do. They would have taken her out of Unit Seven. She didn't want to abort it. She wanted my advice." I stared at him. "I thought you killed her, Tim. I thought she told you. I thought you got mad, started slapping her around, and went too far." That part was true enough.

He wilted suddenly. The Gun clattered on the floor. Tim leaned over, put his face in his hands, and sobbed in a terrible dry way like a sick animal. "I didn't," he said brokenly. "I didn't kill her. I loved her."

I reached down as fast as I could, grabbed the Gun, tucked it under my shirt, and looked around. M'rorr must have heard the Gun hit the floor. He was trembling, but I don't think anyone saw. Then I looked back at Tim, amazed: the toughest tough guy in the Fleet, sobbing over the death of his yeoman. I patted his shoulder. I didn't know what else to do and I didn't know what to say. And I had a more pressing problem. The Gun.

I looked around for a place to hide it. M'rorr saw what I was doing and started to panic. "No way!" he hissed. "Get that thing out of here, Jaff!"

"Shut up," I growled. But hairball was right. I couldn't keep the Gun in my pod. I had to put it back in its hiding place. There was just one problem. I didn't know where that was.

So I told M'rorr to keeping watching the hacks, and put the Gun in my Pocket. That's right: not my pocket. My Pocket. I have an artificial body cavity in my abdomen. It's a little present from Starfleet Intelligence-a useful accessory for a spy. I turned my back to the Yard, licked my finger, and rubbed the skin of my belly. The nano in the seal responded to my saliva, and opened up. It looked like a mouth, or maybe something else. I try not to think about it.

"What are you doing?" said M'rorr.

"Look out!" I snarled.

I wasn't sure the Gun would fit-it's a pretty small Pocket-but it did. It hurt going in, and it made a bulge in my gut, and it pressed on my bladder, but it fit. I licked my finger again, sealed the hole, and pulled my shirt down. Good enough.

"Where did you get that?" said M'rorr.

"Get what?" I said, glaring at him. Hairball got the hint, and shut up. I went over to the toilet and relieved myself. Then I patted Tim on the shoulder again, told M'rorr to keep an eye on Tim, and went out into the Yard, looking for Mick the Mech. Tim and Mick were pretty tight. I knew I could count on Mick to keep quiet about Tim's little indiscretion.

The hacks didn't know about my Pocket. It's a pretty secret piece of tech, and it's hard to spot. Besides, I'd never used it before, and I'd never told anyone about it. Its usefulness to a crew like the Fleet was obvious. I could have made a fortune, sneaking in contraband.

But I didn't, for two reasons. First, like I said, I was a freedom fighter, not a gangster. I did what I had to do to survive in the Big Time, and I didn't lose any sleep over any of it. But deep down, I felt I was better than the ODC's. They were the criminals, not me. Second, even if I wanted to deal, my only connection was Kalila, and I wasn't going to use my wife as my mule. She might have done it, if I asked. I didn't know. And I wouldn't ever know, because I wasn't going to ask. End of story.

Mick was in his pod, fixing himself. Dr. Chang didn't know much about cybernetics, so they let Mick have a little toolkit-nothing he could use as a shank. Sicko Sicoli was there too, lying on his bunk, reading. I told Sicko to get lost.

"What do you want?" said Mick, after Sicko left.

"Where do we keep the Gun?" I asked.

He looked up at me. "You don't need to know that," he said.

"Yeah, I do," I said. I explained the situation. Mick thought it over. "All right," he said. "Calm down. Let me finish this first."

"Fine," I said. "Let me use your toilet." I had to piss, again.

He waved a tiny screwdriver. "Help yourself."

When he finished his repair job, he took me to the Gun's hiding place. I had to tell Mick to look out as well, when I took the Gun out of my Pocket. It's not every day you see a guy pull something out of an artificial body cavity in his belly. When the Gun was safely hidden, I told Mick to keep quiet about my Pocket, or I'd tell the Captain what had just happened. He scowled. "Fine," he said, and went back to his pod. Mission accomplished.

Now I had time to think about what was going on. I went back to my pod. Tim was still there. I asked him what happened yesterday. He said he was cratering in his pod, all morning. He said Bunny went out, and never came back. Then the hacks came, arrested him, marched him out of Unit Seven, and interrogated him all day. Tim said he had no idea who killed Bunny. I believed him. I told him to go back to his pod. I'd look into it, I said

Next, I went to talk to Gleeson, the friendly guard. I asked him to find out everything he could about Bunny's murder--whether the hacks were satisfied that Tiny Tim had killed him, or whether they were following any other leads. I asked him particularly to find out if a contraband data chip that might have some bearing on the case had been found on Bunny or in his pod. Gleeson was a reliable source, and his prices were reasonable. Once we settled on his fee, he said he'd get back to me in a little while.

Finally, I talked to the Shift Supervisor, and told him I wanted to see Commander Sinclair. He asked me why, and I said it was a personal matter. He checked with Sinclair's office, and said the Commander was busy, but he'd see me at thirteen-thirty, after lunch. Fine, I said.

Gleeson called me over when I was on my way to the Mess Hall. He told me the hacks hadn't found anything on Bunny or in the pod that meant anything. They were sure Tim had killed Bun, but they couldn't prove it. I thanked him, and paid him, ate lunch, and went to see the Unit Supervisor.

I noticed the difference right away. Lieutenant-Commander Sinclair hates his job, and he usually looks bored. He didn't look bored, that day in his office. He looked nervous. His hands wouldn't stop moving.

I sat down in front of his desk and looked around. He had a model of a Miranda-class starship. I figured it was Mrs. Sinclair's ship. He started drumming his fingers on his desktop. Finally, he said: "What do you want, Jaffar?"

"I know who murdered Bunny," I said.

"Bunny?" he asked.

"The Switch," I said. "Tim LeBlanc's yeoman."

Sinclair stopped drumming on his desk with his fingers and was completely still. He stared at me and waited. Finally, he said: "Well?"

I said: "Well, what?"

"Who did it?" he asked.

"You did," I said.

ACT THREE

Sinclair just sat there, staring, like I hadn't just accused him of murder. "Excuse me?" he said.

"You murdered him," I said. "Her." Whatever.

"Did I," he said.

"Yeah. You did."

He leaned back in his chair. "Why did I do that?"

I said: "Because he was pregnant. With your child."

He stared at me again. "Pregnant," he said finally. I nodded. He said: "Who told you that?"

"He did," I said. "Night before last."

"And you believed her," he said.

"He had a copy of a medical scan, on a chip, authenticated by Dr. Chang. It said that he was pregnant, and you were the father. He said-"

Sinclair's combadge chirped. "Korchinski to Sinclair," it said. Sinclair didn't respond. He just sat there and looked at me. When it chirped again, he finally tapped it. "I'm with someone, Korchinski. I'll have to get back to you."

There was a short pause, then: "Korchinski out." She sounded annoyed. "Sorry about that," said Sinclair. "Go on."

I leaned forward. "Bunny told me that he was planning to blackmail you. Transfer him out of Supermax, or he'd copy that chip and send it to your wife and the Commandant. He left his pod yesterday morning to meet you. That's when you killed him."

At that point, Sinclair smiled and shook his head. "No," he said.

No, what? I thought. "I saw the scan, Sinclair."

"I believe you," he said. "I believed her too, when she told me. Chang showed me that scan, before she erased it. I arranged the meeting yesterday morning."

That surprised me a little. I said: "Why did you kill him?"

He said: "I didn't."

"Come on."

"I'm telling the truth, Jaffar. I didn't kill her. I was willing to go along. I would get her a transfer, if she got an abortion, and gave me the chip. It was all set. She was alive when I left her. I don't know what happened after that."

Like I said earlier, Starfleet Intelligence trains you to lie. It also trains you to tell when someone else is lying. I've had years of practice, and I'm pretty good at it. And I believed Sinclair. He was telling the truth about not killing Bunny.

I said: "If you didn't kill him, then who did?"

Sinclair shook his head again slowly. "LeBlanc, I suppose." Tiny Tim.

I said: "LeBlanc didn't do it."

Sinclair laughed a little. "You're very sure."

I told him I was very sure, and told him why. I told him that if Tim had killed Bunny the chip would have figured in it. And if Tim had the chip then Sinclair wouldn't be alive to talk about it.

Sinclair leaned forward eagerly. He said: "Do you know where the chip is?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Who else besides you knew about it?"

"Doctor Chang," I said.

Sinclair shook his head again. "Chang won't talk," he said.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked.

"I'm sure," he said. Sinclair sounded pretty confident. I couldn't figure out why. I didn't find out about Dr. Chang's 'experiments' in Unit Zero till later. "How did Bunny get the chip?" he asked.

Sinclair must have thought I was pretty stupid. I said: "He didn't say."

"Someone in the Hospital," said Sinclair. "Chang will find out."

"Maybe," I said. I made a mental note to get word to Lewis, the Hospital orderly. "You're forgetting one other person, Commander."

Sinclair thought it over. "Whoever has it now," he said. "Whoever killed Bunny."

"Right," I said. I leaned back. "As long as that chip is around, it's an axe over your head. If it gets out of the unit, you'll lose your job, and you might face a murder charge. If Tiny Tim gets it or finds out about it, he'll kill you, or have you killed."

"What about you?" asked Sinclair.

I shrugged. "I want to know who killed Bunny. I know it wasn't Tim. I came here because I thought it was you. If you didn't kill him, then I don't care about you."

"Thanks a lot," he said.

"You're welcome," I said.

He said: "What do you care about Bunny?" I just shrugged. To tell the truth, I was starting to wonder that myself. Bun was dead. Tim hadn't killed him. Sinclair hadn't killed him. I was out of suspects, and anyway, it was none of my business. Let Tim and Sinclair worry about it. I was thinking about dropping the whole thing when Sinclair's combadge chirped again. He tapped it. "Yes?"

"Commander, the Ulugh Beg has docked at Starbase Eight, and Lieutenant-Commander Sinclair is boarding a shuttle to Sundancer. She sends her compliments, and says she hopes to see you soon."

"All right," said Sinclair. "Thank you." Then he just sat there, staring off into space. I stood up to leave. "Sorry to waste your time, Commander," I said.

Sinclair looked at me like he'd forgotten I was there. "Find that chip," he said, "and I'll get you a transfer to New Zealand."

That made it my business. I told Sinclair I'd contact him later, and left the office.

ACT FOUR

I went back to my pod. Tim was gone. M'rorr said he'd sat on my bunk for about half an hour without saying anything and then heaved himself up suddenly and gone.

I lay down on my bunk and tried to figure out who killed Bunny. Tim and Sinclair were the obvious candidates, but they were both innocent, unless they were better liars than I was.

Then it occurred to me that I'd been overlooking someone: the Klingons. Tim had seriously dishonoured K'pok and his crew that day when he took Bunny away from them. K'pok had lost face because he couldn't protect his property. His crew had lost face because one human had beaten them in a fight. Granted, that one human was a Polyphemian, but they were still pretty embarrassed about it. And I knew they suspected that Tim was the one who'd killed that other Klingon, before. That would have made the dishonour even worse.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. The Klingons were the reason Tim hadn't liked Bunny walking around alone. Tim must have been cratering hard, to let Bunny out of his pod the morning he was killed. And if K'pok or his crew murdered Bunny, it might also explain why the chip hadn't surfaced yet. Either the Klingons didn't know about the chip, or they were still figuring out what to do with it. Klingons aren't very bright.

I was still thinking about it when I fell asleep. It's pretty tiring, doing nothing all day. When I woke up it was about sixteen-thirty, and I had an idea. I left my pod, and walked over to Spoontown-the Cardassian part of the unit. One of Death-Head's thugs got in my way and told me to get lost. I told him I wanted to speak to Gul Vornak. Death-Head looked out of his pod and nodded. His thug got out of my way, and I went inside.

Death-Head greeted me with elaborate Cardassian courtesy. I'm sure he smiled and apologized to all his victims, before he killed them. I told him I wanted to buy information. He asked me what kind. I said I wanted to know who murdered Bunny the Switch, especially if it was K'pok and the Klingons.

The Gul shook his head sadly. "I'm as much in the dark as you are, Lieutenant," he said. "I thought your Crewman LeBlanc killed the L'Chal'dah in a lover's quarrel. Inter-species romances usually end badly. But you suspect the Klingons?"

I told him yes. He told me he'd let me know if he heard anything. I thanked him for his time. He smiled his ghastly smile and shook my hand. "I'm so glad you came to me, Lieutenant. I've been looking for a way to improve relations between the Thirteenth Order and the Fleet. I hope we can build on the trust and confidence we've shared here today."

I smiled back, said something friendly but noncommittal, and left, thinking about what the Gul had said. Why would Death-Head want an alliance with the Fleet? Was he thinking of taking on the Orion Syndicate? I hoped not. If a gang war broke out, a lot of people were going to die. Prisoners don't take prisoners.

My idea hadn't worked out, but I decided I had enough to go on, anyway, so I went to see the Shift Supervisor again. He wasn't at his post in the Tower, but Gleeson was there. "Hey, Gleeson," I said. "Where's Norng? I want to talk to Commander Sinclair."

Gleeson gave me a strange look. "You can't," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

Gleeson looked around, stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Sinclair's dead. He committed suicide about thirty minutes ago."

* * * * *

First, I was stunned. Then, I got angry. God damn him, I thought. That pathetic loser. So much for my transfer to Club Fed. I'd been caught napping-literally. Shit.

I walked away. Then, I started to think. I didn't know Sinclair well, but he didn't seem like the kind of guy to kill himself. What if someone had helped him? Someone like Tiny Tim? Whoever killed Bunny could have talked to Tim and showed him the chip. They could have explained having the chip by saying that Bunny was afraid Tim would find it and had given it to them for safe keeping. In the state of mind Tim was in he'd go for that. Unit Seven's offices weren't entirely secure. Tim could have gotten in, killed Sinclair, and made it look like suicide. Or more likely, he could have paid another con to do it-a trusty, someone who worked there. Or even a hack. Some of the guards were bigger criminals than the prisoners. Anything was possible, in the Big Time.

But then I thought some more. If Tim had killed Sinclair, he'd set it up very quickly. And what about my Klingon theory? K'pok might have showed the chip to Tim, to humiliate him...no. That didn't make sense. Bunny would have never given the chip to K'Pok for safekeeping. And Tim would have tried to kill K'pok, for sure. I looked around. There was K'pok, over there, in the Yard. What the hell was going on?

I needed more information, so I went back to Gleeson, and asked him for everything he could give me about Sinclair's suicide. Once we settled on his price, he told me that Sinclair shot himself with his phaser around sixteen-thirty, when I was just waking up from my nap. His wife had come to Sundancer by shuttle from Starbase Eight. She heard the shot, rushed in, and found him. They'd taken her back to the starbase. She was pretty upset, Gleeson said. I nodded. Phaser suicides can be pretty messy. I know. I helped fake one, once.

So Tim was off the hook-and it looked like Sinclair was guilty after all. It looked like he'd killed Bunny, despite my hunch that he hadn't. Maybe he hadn't been able to find the chip and was afraid it would turn up. Maybe Dr. Chang had threatened to talk, after all. What the hell: if I was wrong to trust Sinclair, he could have been wrong to trust Chang. I must be losing my touch, I thought.

Gleeson thought Mrs. Sinclair had found out about the Commander's affairs. "You know he cheated on his wife with the staff," he said, knowingly.

I nodded, and said: "With Stott, right?"

Gleeson shook his head. "No," he said, "that was over a while ago. Korchinski."

I laughed, remembering how she called in Sinclair's office. I said: "That cow?" Gleeson laughed with me. Korchinski was the most unattractive female guard in Supermax. She was also a Jesus freak. That's why she was willing to help out with the party. From Stott, to Korchinski, to Bunny: Sinclair must have been desperate. The pathetic loser.

So that was that. I paid Gleeson and went to the Mess Hall for supper, picking up my tray and joining the line. Tim was in line ahead of me. While I was waiting, I saw K'pok walk by Tim and say something. Tim put his head down and charged, like a bull, knocking K'pok over onto a table. Convicts and their trays scattered everywhere.

We quickly formed a ring, Fleet on one side, Klingons on the other, the rest of the cons behind us, craning to see. We shouted and cheered over the sound of the alarm. Tim and K'pok were hammering each other like wild men. I could hear bones cracking and crunching as they punched and head-butted each other. K'pok was fighting hard, but Tim was clearly winning. Then the shanks came out, and the blood started to fly.

The hacks rushed in with their anal probes at the ready. Some of them pushed us back, away from the fight. The rest of them piled onto Tim and K'pok, trying to disarm them, trying to separate them. I saw Tim fight off four guards and go for K'pok again, when Officer Tomak dropped him with a neck pinch. I wish I could do that.

Then, it was over. The hacks put Tim and K'pok on stretchers and took them to the Hospital. Once Dr. Chang patched them up, they were both going to the Tank for knife fighting. The trusties brought in their cleaning cart and started mopping up the blood. Tomak pointed his stun baton at the rest of us. "Form a line," he said. "Continue the food service." We did what we were told. The Fleet and the Klingons traded a few insults, until Tomak told us to shut up. Tomak the hack had a big future ahead of him at Supermax. He would probably be Unit Supervisor someday, maybe even Commandant, if somebody didn't shank him first.

I was just finishing my supper when I had another idea. I thought about it while I was recycling my tray and walking back to Unit Seven. Then I went to talk to the Old Guy. He was sitting in the Yard, watching the flatscreen like he always did, with one leg crossed over the other, letting the time pass.

I said: "Hey, Oldguy. I need to get sick for a few hours."

He understood what I meant. In this age of medical tricorders, you couldn't just pretend to be sick. Unless you had something wrong with you, Dr. Chang would just scan you and send you back to your Unit. But the Old Guy knew all the tricks. We went back to his pod, and he sold me some black and green caps. I looked at them dubiously. I asked: "What are the symptoms?"

He shrugged. "A little nausea, a little diarrhoea. Like mild food poisoning. Take it after lockdown, and you'll be fine by midnight." He looked at me shrewdly. "Going to take care of K'pok?"

I said: "You don't need to know that." I went back to my pod and waited. Once they locked us down, I got my shank out of its hiding place. Vang the Klingon had made it out of a broken piece of cafeteria tray. It wouldn't show up on any scan, but I'd have to change into a hospital gown for an overnight stay, so I put my shank in my Pocket. It fit fine. It's the kind of thing the Pocket was designed for. Then I took the stuff I got from the Old Guy.

Mild food poisoning. Right. Within twenty minutes, I was sitting on the toilet and vomiting on the floor at my feet. The vomit was a really nasty colour, too; black and green, like the caps I'd swallowed. I didn't look in the toilet.

M'rorr swore at me and yelled for the hacks. I heard someone walk into the cell while I was puking again, and looked up. It was roboguard-Officer Tomak, staring at me stonily. "Fouling your pod is a violation of the code of conduct," he said. "Clean up after yourself. Then report to the Hospital."

"Tomak," I croaked, "I'm really sick..."

He wasn't paying any attention to me. He stepped out of the pod, and called to someone I couldn't see. "Bring the cleaning cart over here."

ACT FIVE

Tomak made me get down on my hands and knees and clean up my own vomit-all of it, the bastard. It took a while. I kept retching, and I had to hop back on the toilet a few times. Finally, when I was done, he escorted me to the Hospital. Maybe he suspected that I was faking, and did it to punish me. Or maybe he's just a mean, green-blooded Vulcan son of a bitch. I guess I'll never know.

When I arrived, Dr. Chang scanned me with a medical tricorder. He frowned. "What did you take?" he asked.

"I didn't take anything," I said. "Maybe it was something I ate."

Chang stopped scanning and looked at me. He said: "This is serious, Jaffar. What was it? What did you take?"

I was getting nervous. I felt really sick. "Nothing," I said, hoping the Old Guy hadn't lied to me.

Chang closed his tricorder and stared at me, hard. I could tell he'd seen cases like mine before, but he didn't know what I'd taken, or why I'd taken it. I just sat there acting sick and miserable. I didn't have to act very hard. Finally, he shook his head. "I'll give you some ataraxine," he said. "Change into a smock, and lie down on biobed four. You're staying overnight."

I said: "Thanks, Doc." I got my shot, and started to feel better at once. I changed into a smock, and lay down on biobed four. Tiny Tim was lying on biobed six. K'pok was on the other side of the ward, on biobed ten. Dr. Chang had been able to save both of them, but they'd beaten and stabbed each other pretty badly. I figured it would be days before they recovered enough to go to the Tank.

The evening passed very slowly. I watched the nurses and orderlies do their rounds, and slowly started feeling better. Around twenty-three hundred, when the shift changed, I was feeling fine, just liked the Old Guy had promised. I saw Lewis come in for work: the night shift has a skeleton staff, and relies on trusties like Lewis. It's great for business. Lewis looked a little surprised to see me, but then he glanced at K'pok, and nodded. I nodded back.

I let a couple more hours pass, until everything was quiet and I was sure I wouldn't be disturbed. Then I took my shank out of my Pocket, got off the biobed, and walked softly down the aisle. K'pok was asleep. He'd be easy to kill. I kept walking past K'pok's biobed, to the orderly station at the end of the ward.

Lewis looked surprised to see me. "Jaff," he said. "What's wrong?"

I shushed him, putting the blade of my shank to my lips like a finger. He didn't look scared, just confused, until I grabbed his shirtfront with my left hand and pulled him to his feet. He said: "What the hell are you doing? What is this?"

I said: "This is about Bunny, Lewis."

He started to look scared. "What about Bunny?"

I said: "You told Korchinski about Bunny."

"What?"

I said: "This is how it happened. Korchinski's been sleeping with Commander Sinclair. Only Sinclair got tired of her, and decided he wanted a little variety, so he picked up on Bunny. And Korchinski didn't like that, did she?" I shook him. "Did she?"

Lewis said: "How the hell should I know?"

I said: "Because Korchinski is a Jesus freak. And like every other Jesus freak in the Big Time, she gets her paralethine from Saint Lewis. You knew that Bunny was pregnant, and you saw a chance to make a little extra credit, by selling Korchinski some information. Something she could use to slap Sinclair back into line. After all, Bunny and Korchinski wanted the same thing, right? Bunny wanted to get out of here, and Korchinski wanted to get rid of Bunny. Right?" I shook him again. "Right."

I was guessing. If I was wrong, I was going to be in big trouble with the Captain for leaning on Lewis. But I was pretty sure I was right.

Lewis said: "Okay, yeah. I told Korchinski. So?"

Direct hit. I said: "So? So Korchinski killed Bunny. Then she took Bunny's chip, and threatened Sinclair. That's why he killed himself."

I was surprised when Lewis laughed. "Yeah," he said. "How about that? Korchinski's crazy, man. She's found Jesus in a big way-I mean, she's been born again. I talked to her the day of the party. She was going on about charging Sinclair with sexual harassment, and telling the Commandant about Bunny." He shrugged. "So I told her about Bunny's kid. So what?"

I said: "So what? You got Bunny killed, that's what."

He looked at me belligerently, and said: "So what? Bunny wasn't part of the Fleet. He was just a yeoman."

I punched him in the mouth. Then I switched my shank to my left, the hand I was using to hold onto him, and started hitting him with my open right hand, hard, back and forth across the face, slapping him like a bitch, just to let him know what it felt like.

He begged me to stop. I said: "Shut up, bitch," and kept hitting him. I was enjoying myself.

I was enjoying myself too much. I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. I was getting ready to slap Lewis again when someone jammed the end of a stun baton into the small of my back. I gasped and fell to one knee, still holding on to Lewis. Lewis struggled back, trying to pry my hand off his shirtfront. The baton hit me again, across the shoulders, and I fell to the floor. I let go of Lewis, and he backed off. I managed to hold on to my shank, until a guard's boot stomped on my hand.

"Yeah," said Lewis, from a safe distance. "You like that? Who's the bitch now, tough guy?"

"Shut up," said Korchinski. She kicked my shank away, looked around, and then put her baton back in its scabbard. She stared down at me. Her broad, ugly, peasant-girl face was full of hate. She said: "You're pretty smart, Jaffar."

I rolled over on my side. I was pretty badly stunned, right then.

Korchinski took out a phaser, one of those little Type-1's that you never see anymore. She said: "You used to work for Starfleet Intelligence, right?"

I nodded, and struggled to concentrate. "Why'd you do it?" I said groggily.

She tapped the phaser with her thumb, increasing the power setting. "Do what?" she said.

"Bunny," I said.

She glared down at me. "That freak?" she spat. "That thing?" She pointed the phaser at me. "Goodbye, smart guy."

Behind me, Lewis said: "So long, Jaff."

Lewis should have kept his mouth shut. Korchinski looked up, and pointed the phaser at him instead. I heard him say, "Wait," before she fired. Then I heard him fall. No witnesses. Plus, Lewis was the only one who could tie Korchinski to Bunny's murder. Except for me.

That's when I saw something behind Korchinski. Tiny Tim was out of bed. He moved towards her slowly. He was walking like a somnambulist with his arms outstretched. His eyes were glazed, fixed in a blank, meaningless stare on the back of her head.

Korchinski smiled, and pointed the phaser at me again. "So long, Jaff," she said.

Then Tiny Tim's left arm went around Korchinski's throat, and he reached out smoothly, swiftly with his right arm, and his right hand grabbed her hand and the phaser. Tim twisted her arm back slowly, steadily, and his left arm tightened around her throat. She tried to fight him, but even weak as he was, he was much too strong for her. Her eyes widened and her face grew dark. She made a gurgling sound.

Then the phaser was pointing at her head, and I saw Tim's thumb pressing her thumb down on the firing button. I said, "Tim, don't," and I tried to get up, but my legs and arms wouldn't work. Then the phaser fired, and I stopped. Tim let go, and her body fall face down onto the floor, her dead hand still clutching the phaser.

Tim didn't move. He just stared down at Korchinski without any expression on his face. Finally, he said: "That's for Bunny."

The stun was finally wearing off, and I got to my feet and got to work. The first thing I did was put Tim back to bed. He lay down without a word and rolled over on his side, away from me. Then I searched Korchinski's body. I was in luck: she had the chip. I tossed it into the replicator and recycled it. It was no use to me, or anyone, and it could only hurt Commander Sinclair's wife. His widow, I mean. I figured she'd suffered enough. When the chip was gone, I checked Korchinski again to make sure there weren't any marks on her throat or any chance of Tim's fingerprints on the phaser. Then I picked my shank up off the floor, wiped it off, and put it back in my Pocket. Finally, I went to the intercom and called the hacks.

I was sitting on my biobed when they arrived. I told them everything that happened. Korchinski came in to get saved. Lewis tried to raise the price. They argued. Korchinski threatened to arrest him. Lewis told her she was cut off. She pulled out a phaser and shot him. Then she got hysterical, and shot herself.

I recognized the hack in charge. He was crooked. He knew that Lewis was dealing paralethine. He probably knew that Korchinski was using, too. It was no big secret. He watched me while I told my story. I think he suspected he was being worked, but he didn't know how. Finally, he shrugged. Whatever. He went over to Tim's biobed. "Did you see anything?"

Tim shook his head. He said: "No, sir."

The hack looked over at K'pok's biobed and said: "What about you?"

I looked at the Klingon's biobed and tried to stay calm. K'pok's eyes were open, watching. I had no idea how long he'd been awake. K'pok looked at me. Then he looked at the hacks. "I didn't see anything," he said. "I was asleep."

The hacks took pictures and samples, cleaned up the mess, and filled out reports. I gave my statement, and gave it again. Then the Commandant showed up, and started yelling at everyone. He was pretty mad. Two murders, two suicides, and a knife fight in two days? "What the hell is going on in Unit Seven?" he shouted. As if he didn't know. I told him the same story I'd told before. Finally, he left. Security was going to be pretty tight in D-Block for a while. I remembered the way Death-Head had smiled, and I decided that tight security was fine with me.

By then it was morning. Dr. Chang scanned me, told me I was fine, and sent me back to Unit Seven. The hacks were shaking everyone down. I would have to keep my shank in my Pocket for a little while. When the shakedown was over, M'rorr and I put our pod back together, and I lay down on my bunk and went to sleep.

It had been a long night.