Emma

EMMA

The chef loaded the dinner plates one by one onto my trays. There were five plates and a drink for each. Each plate was loaded with a spicy Valtor stew and a doughy substance I didn't know the name of. Not the most disgusting thing that the Nazoks ate, but the acidic smell and red-brown color were pretty far from appetizing as a human.

What would Sherlock Holmes make of this meal , I wondered.

"You got everything?" the chef asked sharply. "I didn't make extra, so you better not drop it."

I picked up the two trays and nodded. "I won't."

"Wait, put ‘em back down. I forgot the garnish."

Sherlock Holmes was a man who had lived on Earth before the Catastrophes and the Ardrik Federation offered us a way out. He worked as something called a detective. To me, he was a little bit of a hero.

I only knew about him because of an old battered book a scavenger found in the remnants of one of the above-ground cities. I don't think the scavenger could read, but he brought it back because it had a hard, green cover and was pretty enough that he thought he could sell it. I was just a little kid, and my mother left me to wander the market while she haggled for algae to eat. When she found me, I was so caught up in reading it, I didn't even see her coming to get me.

Two months later, on my birthday, she bought it for me, and I've carried it with me ever since. I held it in my lap for comfort when I negotiated one of the standard deals with the Ardrik Corporation: passage off the dying Earth in exchange for forty-five years of indentured labor to anyone who bought my contract.

Think logically.

I told myself that repeatedly as the ship lifted off into space. Watch for little details. Figure out things no one expects you to, and you'll be all right. If Sherlock Holmes could do it, so could I.

The chef put on the last garnish, then stepped back to get a good look. He smiled, obviously satisfied. The grin made me shudder with relief. He was quick to lose his temper, so any expression of pleasure meant safety for the moment.

Meanwhile, I thought about the dishes. Four entrees with doughy bread to share meant four guests. Not exactly the kind of deduction one bragged about, but it was something. The garnish meant that the chef was trying to impress, which meant the guests were wealthy. On the other hand, there was no appetizer course, which meant they weren't so wealthy or powerful that Conii needed something from them. She was out to show off, but the way you do for friends, not a boss.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the chef snapped. "Get going before it's cold!"

That was one thing Sherlock Holmes had that I didn't. No one yelled at him if he stood thinking for twenty seconds.

I picked up the two platters and hurried towards the dining room. I heard the laughter of several voices through the door. Just like I thought, a friendly social occasion.

Valtor stew was a Nazok dish, but it wasn't fancy. It was a comfort food, the kind of thing one ate when sick. Add in the spicy kick it had to it, and there was no way the guests weren't Nazoks themselves.

They must have been the three Nazoks who Conii was on friendly terms with and wanted to impress, but wasn't particularly intimidated by. Valtor stew was the least intimidating dish I could think of. Put all that together, and I had a pretty good idea of exactly who tonight's guests were.

I backed into the door to push it open, and sure enough, I was exactly right. Atlon, Drytor, and Tarrack all sat around the dining room table. Conii, my owner, sat at the head of the table, waving a half-empty glass as she talked.

Nazoks looked a little bit like humans, except they had gray skin and large, sharp teeth. They were usually a little taller than humans but not much more muscular. In the places humans have hair, they had something much thicker, which they often grow longer. They also had brightly colored eyes that I'm told can see quite well in the dark.

Atlon, Drytor and Tarrack all worked for Conii. Atlon handled finances, Drytor dealt with the press and other organizations, and I wasn't totally sure what Tarrack did. Whatever they needed him to, probably, but they didn't talk about his work very often.

The three of them came over regularly, supposedly to discuss business but usually to get drunk and tell stories. If I was Sherlock Holmes, I would have remembered that Valtor stew is a hearty dish, and it's supposed to go well with being drunk. Another clue I should have caught.

Sure enough, as I laid the plates down on the side table, Conii was just finishing one of her favorite stories. I heard this one a few times, including in front of these three guests, but everyone was in a good enough mood that it didn't matter.

"And that's when we realized the dart never actually got through his scales! He was completely awake the whole time and too shy to say anything!"

The table roared with laughter. I grabbed Conii's plate and drink and laid them in front of her as quickly as I could. The less she noticed me, the better.

See, while there were many things Sherlock Holmes had that I didn't, there was one advantage I had that he never managed. I didn't just work for Moriarty. I lived in her house.

Conii bought my contract about three years earlier. I was fairly happy about it at the time. Housework definitely wasn't glamorous, but it was far from the worst kind of work people bought humans for. Between having no special skills and average looks, it was about the best I could expect.

On paper, Conii was the head of the Nazok Cultural Advancement Fund. There wasn't anything inherently suspicious about that. During the last big galactic war, the Nazoks lost a lot of their territory and influence. They mostly tried to remain neutral, but by the end of the war, that wasn't an option anymore. Most of their territory was either conquered by the Ardrik Federation or by the Vinduthi and Mondians, who were, in turn, also conquered by the Federation.

Conii lost a husband and several members of her family in that war. She brought them up a lot, and her tone always made it clear she was going to make someone pay for it.

It took me about a week to figure out that the Nazok Cultural Advancement Fund wasn't just interested in putting on concerts and festivals. There was always money and expensive things running through the house. Sometimes, even guns. The servants, including myself, all put on a show of not knowing anything, but we still did. Conii was a gang boss, and that was her headquarters.

I dropped off food and drinks for Drytor and Atlon. As usual, neither of them paid attention. As always, it felt casual from Atlon and purposeful from Drytor.

"That's the great thing about being Nazoks," Drytor said. He set his glass down as he spoke. "The Vinduthi gangs and the Enforcers never even bother with us. They're so worried about each other; they don't even see us creeping up on them."

Much like how you don't even notice me serving you food, I thought, scurrying back toward the serving table.

"Are we creeping up on them?" asked Atlon. "I don't wanna be grim or anything, but the average Vinduthi gang moves more creds in a day than we do in a week. Nothing wrong with that. But we're about as close to overthrowing the Vinduthi gangs as they are to overthrowing the Federation."

"You're thinking like a Vinduthi again," said Conii, smiling proudly.

"I'm just being realistic," he replied.

"No, you're thinking like a Vinduthi," Conii repeated, gesturing with her glass. "The Vinduthi are soldiers. All strength and numbers. Who's got more men? Who's got more guns? More, more, more. We Nazoks are trickier than that."

I set the last plate and glass in front of Tarrack.

"Thank you," he whispered to me. He always said that when I served him, and it always felt good to be noticed, even if only for a moment.

I smiled and walked back around the table to the door. I would stand there for five minutes in case anyone wanted anything, and then I would have a short break until it was time to clear for dessert.

"But being tricky isn't always enough when your enemy is still stronger than you are," Atlon said.

"Hey, don't bring down the party," Drytor teased. He eyed Conii nervously. Fortunately, she was in good spirits that evening.

"That's just what people who don't know how to be tricky say," she said. "The key is to use your enemies against each other. For instance, take Havek, that inventor the Vinduthi always brag about. I didn't have the strength to take him down, but the enforcers did. So I planted a little evidence, and now he's in Deathgate prison, a barren little rock that no one escapes from."

"Let's be careful," said Tarrack, glancing quickly at me. "There are humans present."

Conii laughed then looked at me and smiled a sickly smile. "Don't worry. My property knows when to keep its mouth closed. I give them dignity and decency, unlike the rest of their kind on this station. And in return, they keep their mouths shut, their eyes closed, and their hands to themselves."

I didn't say anything. I just stood as still as I could, waiting for the attention of the group to pass away from me.

"Take that one over there," Conii continued. "Her name is Emma or Emmus or one of those silly sounding human names. I bought her. She serves me quite faithfully. And in return, I give her freedom to roam about Thodos III to do my bidding. Is she dumb? Not any more so than the rest of her kind. But she's earnest and she's too stupid to take any action against me. If she ever did though, she knows that even if I didn't kill her, she'd never have a good setup as the one I provide. She'd be back with her kind outside my protection living in filth with the rest of her miserable race."

I was lucky if she just wanted to make a mean comment about me. I'd seen her do much worse to the other beings who worked for her. Besides, she wasn't wrong. Working for Conii, I was given more freedom to come and go and have my own space than if I worked at any number of places on the station. Men weren't buying slots of my time to grope me or fuck me. I didn't have to sell my body for my supper.

There were some who would kill to have what I did.

I was perfectly aware of it.

Conii turned her attention back to her friends, and they went with her. "As I was saying. It's not about how powerful you are. It's about knowing what to do with that power."

For the next few minutes, I did my best to ignore their conversation and focused on being still. Conii's anger would often reignite suddenly just when I thought she calmed down. When five minutes ended and I silently exited the dining room, I breathed a sigh of relief.

As I walked back to my quarters, an idea formed in my head.

I knew that Conii was a criminal for a long time. But most of the things I heard about were vague. Even when they weren't vague, they were complicated and filtered through so many subordinates, it would have been impossible to prove them.

Even if I could prove them, they were the kinds of crimes that no one would want to get involved in: the things the Enforcers turned a blind eye to because as long as someone was going to do it, they might as well know who.

But framing a Vinduthi gang member was different. That was specific. She did that personally. There would have been records of it, and if someone could prove it, the Enforcers would have to take it seriously. The Vinduthi wouldn't let them just ignore it.

If someone could prove it.

I pulled my copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes out from under my bed. At that moment, it all felt so obvious. Somewhere out there were the clues to solve a mystery. And there I was. Emma Rochester.

"Emma Rochester, consulting detective."

The words sounded perfect rolling off my tongue.

I'll do it. I'll figure out how she framed that Vinduthi, and I'll find the evidence to prove it. Because I'm a detective.

And that's what detectives do.