Probably the other reason for not getting as much done, I was distracted by getting this part ready to post. Also discovered an oopsie with the calender in the journal of Chapter One. If I get a few second I have to fix that and other oopsies.
The Personal Journal of IGA Agent Zy
1.6.1012/September 16, 1998
I never wanted anyone to be responsible for. Partners ended up dead and you have to do something, Sam Spade was right about that. And look at poor Jessica Fletcher. Everybody she knew either ends up as a corpse or has a corpse thrust on them. Spare the ones you love that.
And what would an IGA agent need with a bodyguard? You’re trained to be able to handle any emergency. But after he saved my life and refused to go home, what could I do?
Pressure bore down onto Zy’s back between her shoulder blades. Her spine cracked. A hand fumbled with the holster on her hip for only a second before drawing out her gun. “Coculas.” The voice was deep but had a hiss to it, like air being forced through many holes. “You come to kill me with this? You show more courage than the others.”
The light reflecting from the floor dazzled her eyes. Have to get this guy off. She pushed up with her arms. The pressure on her back increased, and she gasped for breath.
“Coculas. You will join our Master in death. I will guard him. It is all you and the tkultar have left me. It is all you deserve after abandoning him.”
“I think you’ve made a mistake. I am IGA Agent Zy, here to talk to Cobain about some murders.”
“IGA?” The pressure easied slightly.
“Inter-Galactic Agency for the Apprehension of Felsons and the Investigation of Criminal Activities. Somebody decided to make a shorter name with IGA. I am an official representative, and if anything happens to me, you won’t like the consequences and repercussions.”
“Another organization with business for Master?” There was a rapid clinking sound as the pressure left her back. “You come too late.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I will show you.” Two talons grabbed her upper arms and lifted her up so she could scramble her legs back underneath her. “Straight.”
Was it worth getting shot with your own gun just to catch a glimpse of your attacker’s face when you wouldn’t have a chance to share that information with anyone? Zy decided not and started walking down the hall.
The smell was getting even stronger, but she couldn’t rummage in her pouch for the breather. The guy behind her would see it as going for a weapon.
The hall opened into a large room, and Zy gagged on the stench. Two torches burned on the other end, wafting thick, black smoke toward the celing. It must be a type of throne room judging by the artwork carved into the wall and the raised platform underneath the torches. A cloth-draped table was on top of that platform with a body laid on it.
She managed to cross the woobly room. The being was six-feet long (use metric equivalent) from the top of the skin hood above the head to the tip of its tail. Cybernetic arms had been crossed over the chest area and gleamed in the flickering light. The jaw hung open, and empty eye sockets stared up at the ceiling. Not quite empty, something white and wormy wiggled out onto the cheek. Dried blood led up to a small hole on the left temple. It was a straight line from there to the missing right back corner of skull and skin hood. More white fat worms wiggled in the gore revealed by her flashlight. The winged insects took flight, darting straight toward her face. Zy batted them away and saw a multi-legged centipede thing with iridescent blue exoskelteton as long as her arm wind its way out of the mouth.
Her stomach rebelled, and she choked back the nausa. It turned to dizziness, and washed over her head with a wave. She sat on the platform edge, bending over so her head was almost between her knees. He was dead, as dead as the corpses Patricia Cornwell never glossed over in her books. Training hadn’t prepared her for this. IGA Agents always came in after the impartial robots dealt with the mess.
The being who had escorted her to this death chamber expelled air, which hissed through many holes again. He stepped on the platform and stood next to her. She could hear a brushing noise. “Stay off Master.” He stepped back down once he was finished.
Zy swallowed hard. How long had he been sweeping off bugs? She couldn’t take this. She couldn’t do this. Ifeket had been different; Xeryl had had cornorbots. She went to his rooms with a breather after the body was taken away to be buried. Nobody told her how to deal with a dead body on a backwater planet. This place was so backwater, it didn’t even dispose of the dead. Even Earth had funeral arrangements. Earth also had training with real dead bodies. The poor dead guy, the poor dead guy.
Tears welled in her eyes. “He died and everyone else ran away. They couldn’t even bury him? Instead of leaving him here like the rest of the junk they didn’t want?” She jerked her head up to find her assailant.
He sidestepped to not be blinded by the flashlight. Sharp, needle-like teeth interlocked perfectly on his massive jaws that extended in a snout from his bald head. His grey skin looked rough, like reptile hide. She couldn’t remember ever seeing mention of his species before. The sleeves of the loose grey monk robe he wore covered his hands. His head titled as he blinked his black eyes. “You mourn Master?” (Description needs to be broken apart more.)
“He doesn’t deserve to be treated like road kill, no matter how horrible he was!” Zy roughly wiped her cheeks. “That’s Cobaine, isn’t it?”
“That is what the tkultar left of Cobaine, yes.”
“Do you know what happened? Who killed him?”
“His employees, the coculas, said it was a demon. He held the gun in his hand and brought it up to his head,” he pantomimed the action with her gun, “while screaming for us present to stop the one making him do it. No one there was close enough to force him. Master fired the gun. I reached his body first through the confusion and the gun was gone. The lieutenant saw the gun was missing and screamed demon. The coculas ran.”
“The gun was missing? Somebody pried it out of those cybernetic hands, somebody you couldn’t see?”
“That is right. There are still shavings from the gun on the claws.”
Zy considered standing to look, but her head still felt light. “Somebody took Ifeket’s gun too.”
“The tkultar has killed others?”
“Possibly Ifeket. Possatact’s head exploded, a different M.O. But these three guys were linked. Why haven’t you buried him? Or cremated him?”
“I must serve.”
“He’s dead.”
“I must serve. As long as Master lies in wait, I can serve.”
“He’s dead now. That usually means you’re free.”
“I cannot be free until the honor has been repaid.”
“Honor of being a slave?”
“I am betah. Unless I serve my master for five years, I will remain a betah forever.”
Being a betah must be fairly horrible if brushing bugs off a dead body looked good by comparison. Zy didn’t think she could keep the bile down any longer. “I have to go.” She stood up and the room spun so fast around her it returned with only slight rocking. Cobaine’s servant grabbed her arm, a solid rock next to her. “I have to go.”
“Go where?”
She closed her eyes. “Go find an invisible killer demon thing. Go someplace where I can breath. Breathing first, then demon.”
“You are breathing.”
“But the smell is making me sick!”
“Smell? Ah, no choice over odors to taste.” His teeth clacked together. “We shall adjourn.” His steps moved her closer to the door, and she wanted not to lean so heavily on his shoulder. The air grew fresher the further back down the hall they went. “Are you a warrior?”
“I’ve had fight training.”
“You hunt demons with only training?”
Zy took a deep breath. The decaying odor at this level she could tolerate. “I doubt it’s a demon. But someone made Cobaine commit suicide in a room full of witnesses. That someone is a murderer and it’s my job to catch them.” The planet was finally steady under her feet.
“Are you only trained to do that as well?”
“I’ve solved five cases successfully! And I’m going to solve this one!”
His expression was unreadable. “What will you do with the tkultar once you find him?”
“Turn him over to my superiors with all of the evidence, and he will be judged and punished.” She hoped his culture had something resembling those concepts.
He snapped his jaws together three times, each time sounding like a mousetrap slamming on a hapless victim. “You serve Master by punishing the killer. Mylte will now serve you to serve Master and fulfill the obligation of betah.” He knelt on one knee, and placed her hand on top of his head.
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