I try to still my pulse as I read through the criminal inquiry. The 'request' includes specific interrogatories and demands for a detailed chronology addressing several items. Several concern the reactor and involvement of a civilian vessel named Chimera. One that particularly stands out is the request for the name of the confidential informant involved. Obviously, several questions concern the death of Brent Rockchaser and the status of his remains.

  I take a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly. Strange, that there's a demand for Sparrow's identity. The ship registry didn't carry personal information, sure, but... wait a nano... I sit up, closing my eyes, piecing it together.

  If they don't know about Sparrow's involvement, then this didn't come from the Jovian. This must have come from the HQ at Luna. And they clearly didn't loop Cartwright in. Or if they did, he stonewalled them; he has all Sparrow's information in her CI file. He either doesn't know or chose not to help them.

  And why is the Third Precinct HQ getting involved in a death in the Jovian? A scouting officer whose death was ruled accidental? Is it because of the nuke? Or did someone become aware of... Communion? Is Rabi involved? Could they know that... well they can't know Sparrow pulled the trigger?

  "Melody..." I hear, and I open my eyes. Sparrow looks worried, her hand squeezing mine.

  I swallow hard. "Don't worry. They don't know your name. Or what happened on the surface."

  That just makes her frown deepen. "Melody, talk to me."

  I feel a shiver run through me. "It's a criminal inquiry into Sergeant Rockchaser's death, which means they suspect foul play. They know I went down with Brent, and someone else went with me on the Chimera."

  Sparrows eyes bulge and her mouth works soundlessly. "Cartwright-"

  "Doesn't know or didn't say," I quickly add. "And if they didn't speak with him before contacting one of the potential suspects, it means they don't think he'll be cooperative," I say, realizing it as I say it.

  "What... why?"

  I bite my bottom lip, thinking. "Probably because they disagree with his assessment that it was accidental. Might be a political thing; maybe someone pissed about the nuke made waves and it's rolling down the gravity well."

  Sparrow swallows, eyes wide and worried. "What... are you going to do?"

  I stand up, stretching and scratching the back of my neck. "Well, I have three days to respond. If I give a literal description of what happened, you might get out from a murder charge based on you defending me, but given the illegal plasma rifle..." I sigh. "You'll be looking at a number of felonies, best case."

  Sparrow gulps and holds her belly.

  "If I say nothing, I'll catch charges for obstructing an investigation, probably contempt, a few more things. But they won't have enough to charge you."

  "Would... you do time?" She asks, looking pale.

  I sigh, lifting a finger to my temple. "Probably. Given an officer's death occurred and I'm involved? It would look suspicious as hell if I'm keeping silent; they'd throw the book at me. I'd probably do at least five years in a rehab ward or penal colony."

  "Starless skies..." Sparrow murmurs, her hand reaching out to touch my arm.

  I shake my head. "If I lie... well, it depends on what I say and if they can prove I lied. But if I lie, they'll go after me for the murder, or at least as an accomplice, if for no other reason than to get the truth."

  Sparrows hand tightens on my arm. "Melody, I would never ask you to lie-"

  But I'm already shaking my head. "I can't, there's too much risk some supersapient synth would catch me in the wrong micro-expression, or pick a hole in my story, or something else."

  Sparrow gives me a weak smile, brushing the blue hair out of her eyes. "So... you should tell them the truth. I can get a lawyer. Fight it, cut a deal-"

  I reach up and take her hand from my arm. "You have a record. Especially since you actually pulled the trigger. No chance-"

  "Melody!" She says, gritting her teeth, "I'll pay for my own sins. It's my life!"

  I grip her tighter. "It's our life, together. We said we'd share it. We promised, after Europa..."

  "Not... by you paying for my fuckups!" she protests, eyes watering.

  "Good!" I shout. "Because I don't intend to. I have three days to figure out a response that will keep us both out of prison. In the meantime, I don't want that to own us."

  I get a shocked laugh from her. "Yeah? Live our lives for ourselves?"

  I slap the couch. "Yeah. To hell with them, with Luna, and with Third Precinct."

  A few moments of silence go by. We're in it together. Whatever happens, to the end.

  I hear Sparrow take a long, deep, shuddering breath as her fingers intertwine with mine. "Melody, this is important; you have to promise me one thing, no matter what happens."

  I squeeze her hand back, nodding. "Sparrow, I've got you, no matter what."

  She gulps and slowly meets my gaze, brown eyes wide. "Whatever happens... you cannot tell my mom."

  In bed that night, I'm sure I won't get a moment of sleep. Curled around Sparrow, feeling her warmth against my chest and belly, I feel like a countdown has started. But somehow, listening to her heartbeat and steady breathing lulls me to sleep, and I even manage a dreamless slumber. A new day dawns, so to speak. I mean, there's no literal dawn on a station in orbit, but there's a light-dark cycle. Humans don't really adapt well without a sense of night and day, even with augmentations.

  And somehow, early the next morning, I do feel refreshed. Until I get a ping from someone I don't recognize. Ganymede Licensing and Certification? Oh shit, the weapons certification appeal? That shouldn't be for four days...

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  I pick up the ping, sitting up groggily and rubbing my eye with the heel of my palm. "Uh, hello, this is Mel Cruz?"

  "Hello, Ms. Melody Cygnus Cruz, this is Hearing Officer Anna Delmond with the Ganymede Weapons Certification station," an overly saccharine voice says cheerfully.

  "Hi, yes, and just Mel is fine. Is this about the appeal of the denial? Sorry, I was under the impression this meeting was later in the week..."

  "Melody Cruz, it's a formal appeal hearing, not a 'meeting'," the voice says sweetly, "and no, this is a rescheduling call. I'm afraid the usual hearing officer, Dyer, has been injured and is going to be out for several weeks. Your new hearing is rescheduled before myself in two days at noon."

  I scratch the back of my neck, shaking my head as Sparrow groans next to me. "I'm sorry, it's being rescheduled for an earlier date? And again, I prefer Mel. Also, shouldn't there be a virt address with the hearing notice?"

  There's a tsk on the channel. "Oh, there's no virt address, Melody. The hearing will occur in realspace, not digital space, as is normal for those of us that don't slice and splice our brains up."

  I blink several times at that. What the vacuum-sucking hell? "I'm sorry, as in the appeal hearing is in-person on Ganymede, in about two days?"

  "In fifty-two hours, unless you'd like to withdraw your appeal, Melody," the voice purrs.

  "What? No! I need to reschedule the hearing," I say quickly, setting my jaw.

  "I'm sorry, the hearing has already been scheduled in our calendar; you can appear, or not, as you choose, Melody."

  I sit straight, growling. "Anna, once again, I prefer Mel, not Melody. And are you saying I have two days to get to Ganymede, or my appeal will be denied?"

  "Melody Cruz, I prefer Ms. Delmond. And I have said nothing of the sort. I have given you a time and place for the hearing. Whether you are able or available to appear is your concern; I will be rendering a decision on the merits at that time either way. If appearing in realspace for the hearing isn't a priority, then that's your choice, Melody."

  My mouth falls open. "Excuse me? What's your malfunction?" I ask, gritting my teeth. "Is there anyone else I can speak with?"

  "No. Have a wonderful day, Melody," says the honeyed voice.

  The channel cuts out abruptly, and I clench my hand on the sheets. Unbelievable. This whole system is a void-spawned abomination. I should have let Communion eat it.

  "What's wrong?" Sparrow mumbles next to me. I sigh, reaching out and letting a hand fall to her shoulder. I let my fingers trace down her arm, following the smart-ink fractals, listening to her giggle.

  "Oh, I just found out that my appeal hearing was moved up. Two days from now," I say, rolling my eyes.

  "Hmmm, ok... need anything?" Sparrow asks, eyes closed as she hugs a pillow more tightly.

  I sigh. "Actually... it's in meatspace... so, feel like giving me a ride through the Jovian?"

  I let Sparrow sleep in a little. She's earned it, but when she fully wakes up, she's pissed on my behalf. I'm almost over it, since I've poured some fresh coffee for us both and I tap my stim stick a few times to get that jolt of nicotine. It takes the edge off.

  Eating breakfast with Lucy and Sparrow, I realize how nice it is to have someone get angry on my behalf. Plus, Sparrow is oddly cute when she's incensed. She slams her palm on the table. "It's unbelievable, in this day and age! No warning at all? And no option for a D-space meeting?"

  I shake my head, sipping the coffee slowly. Fresh! "Nah, and she was extremely rude about it. And clearly didn't care that there's almost no chance of making it from Io to Ganymede in two days unless you actually own a ship," I say acerbically.

  "Which we do," Sparrow adds.

  I smile at her over my cup. "Which you do. But that's my point; if it wasn't for you, I could either pay out the nose to charter a private vessel, or just... not appear for the hearing."

  Lucy grunts, take a swallow from her own mug, though she drinks her coffee dark. Ugh. "Sounds like they're trying to prevent you from getting your license."

  I nod. "She might be a bigot. Or maybe they don't want people with PTSD with weapons," I say, biting my lip.

  Sparrow pats my arms, but Lucy scoffs and frowns, narrowing her eyes at me. "You say she gave you crap about having augments?"

  I shrug. "Well, she implied it wasn't normal, which is only true statistically, based on Earth's unmodified population."

  Lucy taps her cup. "Then why would she expect you to splice your PTSD away?"

  I open and close my mouth, tilting my head. "I dunno. Maybe she's just prejudiced against both augments and mental illness generally?"

  Lucy's frown only deepens. "Delmond? I never heard of her. What happened to Dyer? He's been on Ganymede for over a decade."

  I shrug again. "Dunno. She just said an injury."

  Lucy chews her lip. "I'm worried; there's been strange things happening. I've heard there's some gang violence erupting on Callisto. Some actual projectile weapons: not just scatterguns made from pipes. There was even a breach into hard vacuum."

  Sparrow leans forward, her eyes widening with alarm. "What are they fighting about?"

  Her mother shrugs her wiry arms. "As I heard? Some Luddites mobbed one of those underground splicing rings."

  Sparrow blinks. "Really? Sounds like they're cleaning up some black-market modders. Nobody is getting their panties in a twist about that," She laughs, but I join Lucy in frowning.

  My frown deepens as I scratch my chin. "You think it's a brewing gang-war? To consolidate turf? Or sign of something rotting?"

  She gives me a level look. "Do I look like the community sounding board?" She sniffs. "It's ain't a good thing when the gangs start fighting. Usually, a sign the balance of power's shifting somewhere in the Jovian," she points out.

  I frown, thinking. "Where are they getting projectile weapons? Commercial fabs and printers can't make them; they're hard-wired and locked out of weapons printing."

  "Who knows?" Lucy shrugs. "They probably aren't the registered kind that you could trace a serial number on."

  I shake my head quickly. "Well, someone knows. Real projectile weapons don't just appear out of nowhere and end up in the hands of luddite gangs out of the blue."

  Sparrow leans forward. "Maybe the luddites put an order out? Someone smuggled them in?" She suggests.

  I turn my head. "You're kidding. They're luddites. You think they managed to send a stealth order and then bamboozle security and customs and Codes and the naval checkpoints?"

  Sparrow frowns. "Maybe someone sold off some old Navy stock or a pirate decided to sell off his goods."

  Lucy snorts at that. "Ballistic firearms? No way it's Navy; that's civilian. And pirates wouldn't be selling enough numbers to arm gangs without a lot of other black hat activities shooting up."

  Sparrow gives her mother a worried glance. "So, what are you saying?"

  She scoffs. "I'm saying that if someone's running weapons into the Jovian, then it's bigger than a few luddite gangs."

  I tap my temple a few times. Hmm, maybe... "I dunno. Occam's razor. Someone got their hands on stock and sold it quick to the bottom rung of society," I point out. "Luddites get lucky, get some guns cheap, make a play?"

  Lucy gives me a hard glance. "Nobody is selling weapons to luddites for money. Committing a dozen felonies by running ballistic weapons to the Jovian; nobody here has the credits to make it worth that risk."

  Well, money isn't the only thing worth killing for. "So, what kind of motive then? Revenge? Consolidating turf? Distraction?" I ask, to dual shrugs. "Well, is anyone running protection rings? Charging to keep the violence down?"

  Lucy snorts. "Nah. I mean, the Daughters' of Ganymede offer security, but they don't charge."

  I blink at that. "The hell are they?"

  Sparrow giggles, rolling a hand. "Some charitable group that tries to keep the peace, badly."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Like a neighborhood watch?"

  Lucy places her empty mug down. "Like a private security company."

  I narrow my eyes. "A private security company? Offering free protection?"

  She shrugs. "Mostly, the stations take the help they can get."

  I sip my coffee, polishing my own mug off. "Still... weapons and gang violence rising, and a new hearing officer is making it hard to obtain weapons the legal way? Makes me wonder who's profiting from the violence..."

  Sparrow reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. "You're not a cop anymore, Melody. It's not your beat."

  I shrug. "True. But I have a hearing to appear for, so might as well figure out what's happening locally. If nothing else, maybe it'll lead to work?" I say, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

  Sparrow sighs and hangs her head. "I'll prep the Chimera for launch. Try not to start a gang war, Melody."

  I laugh at that, rising and putting the empty coffee mugs in the sink. "Oh please. Getting involved in a gang-war with no weapons? Does that sound like me?" I ask.

  I'm glad Sparrow doesn't answer, because even I know I'm full of crap. But if I had been paying closer attention, I might have got a whiff of something from the sink's plumbing. Something that smells organic and rotting.