Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus: Ptolemy Lane Tales, #5.5

PTOLEMY LANE TALES OMNIBUS

A PTOLEMY LANE TALES COLLECTION

Copyright Information

This is an original publication of Cameron Cooper

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2024 by Stories Rule Press

Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Edited by Mr. Intensity, Mark Posey

Cover design by Dar Albert

http://WickedSmartDesigns.com

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FIRST EDITION: December 2024

Cooper, Cameron

Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Science Fiction Crime & Mystery

241101

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Space cities have been locked in war for centuries over the resources of an asteroid belt.

Humans pilot swarms of pod fighters to protect their city’s mining operations from other cities, risking everything and suffering multiple deaths and regenerations. Then Landry goes through a regeneration which introduces an error that will destroy the delicate balance of the war.

Resilience is a space opera short story by award-winning SF author Cameron Cooper.

__

Epic science fiction at its finest. Realistic far future worlds. Incredible characters and scenarios. – Amazon reader.

This short story has not been commercially released for sale. It is only available as a gift to readers who subscribe to Cam’s email list.

See details after you have finished Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus

Table of Contents

Half Title Page

Copyright Information

Special Offer – Free Science Fiction

About the Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus

Praise for the Ptolemy Lane Tales

About the Author

Title Page

The Body in the Zero Gee Brothel

The Captain Who Broke The Rules

The Maker of Widowmakers’ Arm

The Ancient Girl in the Autopod

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Return of the Peacemaker

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

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About the Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus

Meet Ptolemy Jovan Lane—lawkeeper, investigator, and problem-solver—on the fringes of known space.

From bodies found in zero-gravity brothels to mysterious severed limbs, Lane’s reputation as the town peacemaker takes him deep into the heart of murder, intrigue, and political machinations in Georgina’s Town. But it's not just about solving crimes; Lane must face the demons of his own past, new enemies he didn’t know he had, and even the impossible notion that Serials—the non-human citizens—might feel emotions just as strongly as humans.

The Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus collects all five stories in this thrilling space opera series. From his early days chasing killers to a final confrontation that could change the future of humanity, Ptolemy Lane’s journey is packed with high-stakes mysteries, action, and the rich world-building of award-winning SF author Cameron Cooper.

The Ptolemy Lane Tales:

1.0: The Body in the Zero Gee Brothel

2.0: The Captain Who Broke the Rules

3.0: The Maker of Widowmakers’ Arm

4.0: The Ancient Girl in the Autopod

5.0: The Return of the Peacemaker

5.5: Ptolemy Lane Tales Omnibus

Also (only from Stories Rule Press):

The series Special Bundle

Cameron Cooper’s Super-Bundle

Space Opera Science Fiction Collection

Note: This collection was written by a human, without the use of LLM artificial intelligence.

Praise for the Ptolemy Lane Tales

Hard-boiled detective meets Mos Eisley cantina

I was pleasantly surprised by the depth of the world building.

A lot of potential for rich, nuanced story telling in this world.

I look forward to seeing more of Ptolemy Lane and others from his world!

I felt like I was in a black and white sci-fi avant-garde movie. Humphrey Bogart is in the background somewhere, smoking a Camel cigarette, or maybe a future Sherlock Holmes.

I have truly enjoyed Cameron's other books, but this one is so very different from all the rest.

Ptolemy Lane is one of the most unique characters I've seen in awhile!

Very interesting, beautifully written, complex story.

Very interesting and imaginative, it's like Cameron has already been there and lived that!

Original and entertaining.

Snappy action with unpredictable characters in a captivating world!

I love this series and can’t wait for the next installment

Lane is utterly complex and leaves the reader wanting more.

I actually felt bad for how Ptolemy Lane started his day

This is such a clever story!

A complex world which is presented with mystery , intrigue and entertainment

I find Ninety-Nine a most interesting character

Cameron’s short stories were awesome in themselves but a mind like Jovan’s has got to have an expanded adventure

Very cleverly written mystery - it is all in the detail with this one

While I have loved all the short stories, this one tops them all.

Cameron is a great writer who keeps his readers captivated with his interesting plots and twists and turns throughout the series.

Very well written and edited book with well developed characters and continuing drama

I’m already excited about the next part of this series

A wonderful story of who done it, told as only Cameron Cooper can.

A clever and intriguing plot keeps you turning page after page

I have loved all of the stories and this one just tops them all

The story moved along just like the semi-ballistic transport system in the story: so don't launch until you know you can land (finish) because I found it compulsive reading, and devoured it over the course of a day!

Slightly disconcerting at times, fascinating all the time.

About the Author

Cameron Cooper is the author of the Imperial Hammer space opera series, among others, and is the pen name used by bestselling author Tracy Cooper-Posey. As Cameron Cooper, she writes science fiction short stories and novels, including space opera. As Tracy Cooper-Posey, she writes historical suspense, romance, plus women’s fiction. She also writes contemporary, epic and urban fantasy as Taylen Carver.

She has published over 200 titles under all pen names since 1999, is an Aurealis Award Finalist, has been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award. She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book of The Year. Tracy won the award in 2012, a SFR Galaxy Award in 2016 and came fourth in Hugh Howey’s SPSFC#2 in 2023. She is currently a city magazine editor and for a decade she taught writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and fantasy and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian Canadian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

PTOLEMY LANE TALES OMNIBUS

A PTOLEMY LANE TALES COLLECTION

BY

CAMERON COOPER

Stories Rule Press

THE BODY IN THE ZERO GEE BROTHEL

A STRANGER WAS SITTING BEHIND Ninety-Eight’s desk when I strolled into the station on the morning of my 25,000th day on Abbatangelo. He was a nervous fellow with fine brown hair, big eyes and long fingers. I should have taken his appearance as a portent, but I just flat didn’t care.

The nervous one gulped when he saw me. Mr. Lane. Sir. I mean…do I call you Sherriff?

Not if you want me to answer. I was tempted to brush by but said, instead, Who are you?

I…um…Hyland. Emily didn’t tell you?

All I wanted was to get to my desk and check messages, so I could call the day done and go home. A quart of Martian brandy, a gift from a client, was calling my name. Instead of that, I swore and studied Nervous. She quit on me?

She didn’t tell you… He picked at the controls on the smart desk. The film on the top was coming loose, which meant the desk wasn’t as smart as it should be.

That was the deal, I said. She can quit whenever she wants, as long as she finds and trains a replacement. That’s the deal with you, as well. Got it?

You’ve said that more than once before, haven’t you? Then he pressed his fingers to his lips as if he was more shocked than me by what he had said.

Okay, listen, Ninety-Nine, we’ll get along much better if— I didn’t get to finish, because his smart desk lit up.

He stared at it. I didn’t think it was possible for his eyes to get bigger, but they did.

That’s your cue, I told him.

He prodded experimentally.

I reached over and tapped the connect button. The holograph formed over the top. I knew the man’s face. His nose demanding remembering.

Ninety-Nine managed to stutter, Ptolemy Lane’s office.

The face frowned. Lemme speak to Lane.

Ninety-Nine could see me through the hologram, so I shook my head.

Mr. Lane says he’s not here.

I sighed. Reached through the head to spin the display to face me. I’m here. Who are you?

Kumar. I’m the manager at the Desiderata—

No.

He caught back his breath. You don’t know what I was going to say.

Doesn’t matter. You’re a casino and brothel. That’s out of my service area.

You have a service area? He sounded puzzled rather than offended. I thought you covered all of Georgina’s Town?

Except the casino and brothel. I told Guisy Oakmint so when he said he was going into business. I’m just one man and your joint is a crime magnet. Oakmint knows to clean up his own messes. And for eleven years, he had.

Kumar shook his head. That’s just it. It’s Mr. Oakmint. He’s dead.

I paused. Took in a breath or two. I knew Guisy enough to share a drink here and there, although the last serious conversation we’d had was when he told me about his new joint venture. Sorry, kid, I told the manager. But it’s still not my concern. Call in Doc Lowry. He deals with bodies.

Doc Lowry said you would be interested, Kumar said quickly, as I reached for the kill switch.

Damn it.

I pulled back my hand. Doc said that? Why?

Kumar glanced over his shoulder, then said, Mr. Oakmint was murdered and we’re pretty sure an undocumented human did it.

I rubbed the back of my neck to hide my reaction as something fizzed and flared in my gut. I’ll be there in fifteen, I told Kumar.

●

I had to calm Ninety-Nine down before I left. He was jumping out of his skin.

I waited five years for a license to move here, he wailed. "My first week and there’s a murder!"

Crime happens, kid, I told him. That’s why I have a job. I didn’t say anything else, but I did wonder what the hell he had been thinking, taking up work with the town’s only law enforcement authority.

They said you keep the peace, Ninety-Nine muttered.

I do. This is me keeping it. I put on my coat and took the five-minute walk along Main Street to the casino at the edge of the town limits.

Said that way, it makes Georgina’s Town sound small, but it only looks small on flat schematics. I was at street level where actual sunlight filtered through the dome far overhead, but there was another ten levels beneath my feet. And a building on the central section of Main Street that didn’t reach up at least twenty floors didn’t exist.

Things were crammed under the dome because nearly thirty thousand people squeezed in here, with twice more begging for permission to reside. Mayor Carpos didn’t charge taxes. He didn’t need to. Resident tickets brought in all the revenue the town needed, and their price rose every season.

I looked balefully up at the blue sun as I moved along Main Street. The sunlight flickered and glinted as personal pods zipped across the dome. Most of my work took place at night, when idiots thought they could get away with whatever they were up to. It wasn’t just the Martian brandy I was missing right then. I badly needed sleep. I’d been patrolling most of the night and I’d only stopped at the office to check messages because I was passing it. Now I wish I’d gone straight home, polarized the windows and passed out as I had wanted to.

The Desiderata was the shortest building on Main Street, only because the dome itself limited vertical expansion. On Earth, the outskirts of town were the undesirable areas. Here in Georgina’s Town, the outskirts were the expensive lots, because they had unique views of the land beyond the dome. I suppose it was a view worth paying for, if you liked frozen tundra. I liked the view from my mid-dome windows just fine.

I moved up the steps and through the door into the main casino. It was like stepping into a different world, one that always brought me to a halt when I did walk through those doors. There was no hint, outside, of the exotic environment in here. Oakmint had arranged it deliberately, I think, to avoid ruffling the hides of Georgina’s Town residents.

We liked our peace. Everyone with a legitimate license to live here had paid well for the privilege and waited patiently to be given the okay to even apply for residency. Then came screenings and interviews and the final exchange of money.

As Georgina’s Town was a domed city and the lock to enter it was tightly controlled, you only got in here if you had a temporary visa or a residence’s license. And the residences didn’t want neon razzle and flash from casinos and their standard customers ruining the peace of their town.

Kumar had told me to meet him at the main bar, so I re-hinged my jaw and moved across the plush flooring, heading for the wider corridor between all the tables. It was frantically busy here despite the morning hour, and everyone wore evening attire—or was still wearing it from last night. Lots of glitter and flesh on display, which I ignored.

The aliens were harder to ignore. The emre were easy to pick out because they stood thirty centimeters taller than humans on average, and they had no visible body hair. They were bi-pedal, with heads on top of upright figures, but their skin was more hide-like in consistency, with blue highlights over the bald dome and eyes, and orange-red everywhere else. Their lips were blue, but the skin around the thick, very wide mouth faded from orange to a pale yellow.

A ridge ran from under their eye, around the back of their head, to stop under their other eye. There was no equivalent to a nose. Scientists had guessed that they breathed through their mouths, but no one had ever confirmed that.

No one knew what an emra wore on their home planet, because in their usual obsequious way, emre instantly adopted the habits and customs of those around them, to avoid offense. They wore human clothes, which fit, more or less. They were not a gendered species and I hadn’t figured out how they decided to wear men’s or women’s clothes. Maybe they switched up, depending on the season. I didn’t know any emre well enough to ask.

I likely never would, either. I didn’t much like them. Their fawning lack of spine irritated me. Still, they had managed to infiltrate the fringes deep enough to reach Abbatangelo, and they behaved themselves while they were here.

Some in the fringes argued we owed the emre. The emre had warned humans about the Vind. I was still trying to decide if the emre had done us any favors on that one. We’d managed to stay out of the emre-Vind war, which had raged for a thousand years, but I wasn’t sure the cost was worth it.

It was too early in the morning to think about a far distant war, even though I knew exactly why my thoughts had roamed there, and it wasn’t just the sight of the emre at the tables, jumping about and clicking loudly in their native tongue when they got too excited to use Standard. I stepped around and between gamblers, feeling dusty and down-dressed in my black coat, which served me well out on the streets.

I moved over to the bar. An extra-long emra was passed out, their head in a puddle of green liquid. I hoped it was booze and nothing else. I moved up a seat or two away from them and said to the barman’s back. Looking for Kum—never mind, I finished as the barman turned toward me. You said you were the manager, I added as the man I’d spoken to seventeen minutes ago came over to where I was standing.

I am, Kumar said. I also tend bar when its needed. I’ve got a hysterical barman breathing oxygen out the back. Everyone liked Mr. Oakmint.

I looked around the casino floor, at the intense expressions of concentration, the glum losers, the few winners. Clearly.

"The staff liked him," Kumar amended.

Yeah-huh. Where’s the body?

Kumar blinked. Well…

You haven’t moved it? I said sharply.

Doc Lowry said not to, only…

I frowned, anticipating some objection to the body interfering with business. This was another reason I had refused to service Oakmint’s place. The heavy emphasis on business above all else didn’t sit well with me, even though I had no objections to money, per se. But dealing with the casino folk—both the paying suckers and the threadbare staff—always left me longing for a hint of human empathy.

It’s moving by itself, see, Kumar said.

I stared at him, puzzlement warring with impatience.

You’d better come with me, Kumar added.

●

The body was in the brothel. Not only was it in the brothel, it had been discovered in one of the zero-gee suites, and the zero-gee field was still switched on. I stood on the patch of one-gee just inside the door and stared up at the former Guisy Oakmint as he drifted, turning slowly, his gaze just ahead of his nose.

He was naked, but I could’ve determined cause of death even if he had been wearing his purple suit, for someone had slashed his throat open. That was going to make for a messy clean up, because they’d have to cut the zee-gee to get the body, which meant all the globules of blood and other matter floating around the room would all hit the floor and splash against the walls. As the floor and walls were all padded to stop customers from scraping their naked hides against them when they floated too close, it probably meant all the padding would have to be stripped out and replaced.

Expensive and time consuming.

There were dots of blood on the one-gee pad where I stood, and I watched another droplet reach the edge of the zee-gee field and drop to the floor. I moved my boot out of the way.

Kumar stood behind me, in the corridor. Further along the corridor I could hear the sounds of copulation oozing through the walls, along with the murmurs of the prostitutes gathered at that end, clutching each other with worried expressions. Most of them were naked—their working uniform.

Guisy sampled the wares often? I asked Kumar. I didn’t bother lowering my voice.

Never.

If he didn’t, then figuring out how he had ended up here naked would be the first step.

Solid steps, heavy male ones, made me glance back out the door. Doc Lowry came up to the doorway. Good morning, Jovan, he said courteously. I apologize for keeping you out of your bed.

I shook my head. I’m here now. What makes you think an undocumented did this?

Lowry was a spare man with grey brows and white hair, and the face of a thirty-year-old. He lifted one of the brows. You don’t want to learn how he got here, first?

Nope.

Lowry looked at Kumar.

Kumar cleared his throat and moved away from the door. Clearly, the view was bothering him.

So I shut the door and turned to face him and waited.

Kumar glanced to either side, then lowered his voice. Last night, Mr. Oakmint closed the tab on three drunks—they were out of money for the tables, and they’d hit the deposit on their tab—

Guisy has all his customers deposit against their tabs? I asked.

Those that are new to town, or new to the casino and can’t give references. Kumar shrugged. People like to drink.

Too much. I nodded. So he shut them down…?

And one of them got stroppy. Took a swing at Mr. Oakmint. Mr. Oakmint ducked it, but the fella came right back around again. His face was all red.

I just stared at him. So?

Lowry watched me, not Kumar.

Kumar did that sideways glance thing again and dropped his voice even lower. They was undocumented. None of the scans worked.

My middle jumped again. I hated myself for that. I held my face stiff and said, You’ve got it wrong, Kumar. Undocs don’t fight. They haven’t the guts for it. They were, in fact, more placid than the hand-wringing emre.

Kumar straightened. I’d challenged him. I tell you, they was. I can show you the camera feeds, the time logs, the second they passed the passive scans. The scans don’t register a damn thing.

A nodoc, fighting? I tamped down the flare of silvery bright emotion, hiding it. Prove it, I said flatly.

●

It wasn’t a huge shock to me that the casino and brothel documented everyone who stepped in the door. The scanners were everywhere, tracking everyone’s movements. The data from the scanners was cross-indexed with the security feeds, which meant everyone’s head on the screen carried their ID as a little flag, floating about their head.

Except for the three caught in mid-step, coming through the archway from the dining room into the casino proper. The space around them was empty of flags.

I stared at the screen, my heart thudding. Which one tried to poke Guisy?

Kumar pointed at the smallest of the three. Male. Dark hair, receding. Average everything, including looks.

I turned to Kumar. You ever had the cross-index hiccup? Make a mistake?

Well, in the beginning, sure, but…

I shook my head. It hiccupped again, I told him, my voice harsh.

The last mistake was ten years ago, Kumar said flatly, his jaw flexing.

I could feel my face going red. The man was relentless. You don’t get how impossible this is, I told him, trying to keep my tone civil. A nodoc wouldn’t dare confront anyone, especially someone in authority, like the owner of the casino they’re in. They just wouldn’t do it.

This one did, Kumar said flatly.

Lowry said softly, Maybe dig a little deeper, Jovan?

I’d forgotten he was there. I shoved my hand through my hair and nodded. What are their room numbers? I said to Kumar. Give me a pass key and I’ll check them out. Not that I expected anything to come of it. The scanners were wrong. These three were normal, serialized people, which meant taking a run at Guisy Oakmint for shutting off their fun was normal, too. It meant less than nothing in a joint that saw a dozen fights every night, most of them ending bloody. The casino was a microcosm of life in the fringes…which is why I avoided the joint as a rule.

Kumar shook his head. They weren’t staying here.

I sighed and pulled out my pad and sent a message to Ninety-Nine to reach out to the two half-way houses in the city and find out which one the three were staying at. I gave a rough description, then put the pad away in its armored pocket in my coat.

Lowry dug an elbow in my ribs, and I felt Kumar jump to attention. I looked around. Coming up behind us was a woman who reminded me of too many things I’d left in the fog of time. Perfume. Pliant flesh. Warmth. Throaty laughter. Soft lips.

She wore a fire-red dress which defied description and made the most of serious curvage, but it was half-hidden under a shapeless coat.

Missus Oakmint, you don’t need to be here, Kumar said, and Lowry murmured something equally as dismissive.

Her gaze took in the three of us. Her green eyes settled on me.

Mrs. Oakmint, I said, hiding my surprise. Guisy had actually married the woman? I’d heard rumors that someone had invented a way to marry people, somewhere Out There. Or maybe it was a courtesy title. The thing I tripped over was that anyone had the urge to marry another. Sex, sure. Sex was a fine activity. But matrimony? Domestication? Given the nature of most people in the fringes, I’d give any marriage a week before it shattered, probably violently.

Studying Mrs. Oakmint’s visual charms, I could maybe see why Guisy thought it would be a quaint idea to marry her. Even romantic. Her eyes were depthless pools of pretty green.

You are Ptolemy Lane, then? she asked. Her voice had the same effect that sipping an aged brandy did. I shivered. Yeah, Guisy had clearly fallen hard.

My manners! Lowry said. Forgive me, Mrs. Oakmint. May I present to you Ptolemy Jovan Lane, Georgina’s Town law enforcement and investigator.

The peacemaker, she breathed.

And this is Mrs. Laura Oakmint, Lowry added unnecessarily.

I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Oakmint, I said, my voice dry.

Her chin actually wobbled. Damn. Her eyes seemed to grow even more crystalline. Then she drew in a breath and said, May I speak with you a moment, Mr. Lane?

I would like that very much, I allowed and moved three steps away from the banks of monitors, to the other side of the security squad room. Guards looked us over, then snapped their gazes back to their monitors, before the boss’s wife caught them ogling her.

Laura Oakmint followed me over. She wrapped the coat around her middle and held her arms over it, to keep it closed, as if she was cold. She stared up at me. It is true you are three hundred years old?

I sighed. Not quite. How can I help you?

She chewed her full lip, weighing something. They say you came from Earth, originally.

We all do, I pointed out patiently.

You chose to leave, though.

I reminded myself that she was a new widow and quite possibly grieving, in her own way, so I indulged her by answering. It wasn’t really a choice.

But you remember the old ways.

Too clearly.

She reached inside her coat and withdrew an actual document and held it out to me. This is Guisy’s…will, he called it. He told me he was going to make one, when we first married. I found it just now in our apartment. I don’t know what to do with it. I thought you might.

I stared at the folded document, my brain whizzing fast. A will… I repeated, sounding stupid.

Read it, she urged me. Perhaps you can suggest how I go about making sure what Guisy wanted is done? She laid her other hand on my arm. I’m afraid I’m very upset and can’t think properly.

●

"A goddam fucking will! I repeated as Lowry and I walked down Main, heading for the halfway house. First, he figures out a way to marry her, then this!"

I hear they’re marrying each other like crazy, Out There. Doc Lowry’s voice was calm. It usually was.

"It’s weird."

Why? His tone was reasonable. That was usual, too. Once, it hadn’t been. The will says that everything he owns is now hers. He was looking out for her, even after he died. It’s straightforward.

No one has wills out here, I pointed out. "Undocs have wills and estates, but people in the fringes…someone dies, their friends split their stuff up between them, over a drink or two. A will says what he wants done with stuff that isn’t his anymore. It means he had a sense of possession. Property. That’s a nodoc thing."

I see your point. Lowry considered further. Maybe he has friends he didn’t want to have his stuff.

I stopped walking and stared at him.

What did I say? Lowry looked worried.

Everything, I assured him. Look, there’s the halfway house. Let’s get this over with, then get back to the will business. I was impatient to prove the three drunks were serialized, then get back to the casino.

Serials showing a sense of property. Commitment to another. It was something other than aggressive self-centeredness. I’d been too busy with my own affairs to look up and assess how the rest of the universe was fairing, lately. I’d missed things. Was Guisy a fair sample of the fringes philosophy now? He’d always been a bit smarter than most. I’d have to find out.

I knew the owner of the halfway house. Lada Loke had been troubled by Ninety-Nine’s call and confronted me with her hands on her hips. Those three jokers left somewhere in the middle of the night. Their room is a mess! It’ll take me a day to clean it properly.

They paid for just the night? I asked, surprised.

I don’t take anyone for less than a month. This is a halfway house, not a hotel, she said firmly. People stay here to adapt to life in Georgina’s Town. Skipping out after a few nights…what is going on, Mr. Lane?

That’s what I’m trying to find out. If they left without notice, after paying for the month, did they take everything with them?

Everything except the mess.

Let me see the room, hmm? See what I can see.

Lowry’s gaze caught mine, but he kept his mouth shut.

Lada dropped her arms. Well, if you want to, I suppose it would be alright, but why?

It might be connected with something I’m looking into, I told her. I don’t want to upset you with the details.

Her face grew blank. Stiff. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mr. Lane, she said smoothly, knowing the nature of your work—which I and everyone in this town appreciates. This way, then.

Lada’s house took up three floors of the tower it was in, with no access to the bounce shafts. We climbed stairs, instead. The room was on the top of the three floors, of course. Her staff had started the process of picking up and cleaning.

Can they leave for a moment? I asked Lada.

She requested her staff leave and they happily filed out the room. One or two nodded at me. I knew their faces, too. Newbies to the town were often repeat offenders, until I got them settled into the way of living here.

You, too, please, Lada, Lowry told her.

Her mouth opened. Then she nodded and left. She didn’t shut the door.

I moved around the room, running my fingers over surfaces, looking in crannies, but Lowry found the hair and held it up, grinning.

You’re getting the hang of it, I told him, taking the hair.

He moved to the door and glanced out in a way that looked casual, then nodded at me.

I bit off the root end of the hair and sampled it. Then I let my thoughts glaze over and watched the inside of my eyelids.

Null results.

I sat heavily on the bed.

Lowry came over. Jovan?

I shook my head. Nothing. No results. I blew out my breath. "At least one of them is a nodoc."

Lowry sat next to me, just as heavily. After a moment, he said, "So what does this mean?"

I shook myself. That’s for later. The will is the thing, Doc.

Glad you think so, boy, because you’re about the only one who can do anything about it.

So Laura Oakmint believes. I paused, rubbed my jaw and said reflectively, Yeah…that’s what she thinks.

●

Laura Oakmint was a gracious hostess. She invited us to step inside the penthouse apartment she and Guisy lived in and made sure we had drinks and weren’t hungry, before settling on the sofa opposite us. I don’t understand what you mean by which law the will falls under, she said, her voice strumming through my middle like the notes from a lovingly played cello.

I sipped the barely adequate brandy to be polite and put it aside. Wills are legal documents back on Earth, but out here in the fringes, those laws don’t apply.

Why not? Her tone was puzzled, not confrontational.

Who would apply them? I asked her. It requires courts of law, police and law-abiding citizens for common law and codified law to be upheld. A long time ago, there were hundreds of sets of laws, one for each country on Earth. Then there were international laws and space laws…but all those were enforced by a system that everyone agreed to live by.

It sounds very…constricting. Laura frowned. "But wait, doesn’t everyone in Georgina’s Town agree to follow your laws, Mr. Lane?"

Lowry chuckled. That they do, Mrs. Oakmint.

I glared at him, even though he had said exactly what I wanted him to say. I’m paid by the town to hold the peace, I said apologetically to Laura. That’s all.

Laura puzzled her way through that. How do you know when the peace has been broken?

Blood, noise, damage. Lowry shrugged.

Laura shook her head. What if there is none of that? What if it was a brand-new way of disturbing the peace? What if, for example, you decided that not being polite was a form of peace-breaking? Do you just…start arresting people?

I don’t arrest people, I said gently.

You don’t? She looked embarrassed. I’m afraid I have little experience with laws and their…upholding, did you call it?

I let that go. Anyone who disturbs the peace in Georgina’s town is tossed out the airlock and their residence license revoked for life.

Her eyes widened. Oh!… I had no idea…

It has a way of making sure people behave themselves, Lowry explained.

"You do that to everyone who misbehaves?" she demanded of me.

Just the stubborn ones, I assured her. Most people straighten up and sort themselves out pretty quickly. I help them along with that, if they need it.

Laura sipped her drink, thinking. "Then, Mr. Lane, you do make the laws yourself, yes?"

I hid my true reaction and painted a thoughtful expression on my face. "I suppose I do—just for Georgina’s Town. Mayor Carpos and the aldermen pay me, so in a way, they’re paying me