Short Story: The Grantley Major Murders

Short Story: The Grantley Major Murders

The landing strip was barely two hundred feet below but Tenison Hewton was already celebrating another successful landing. On Grantley Major just getting through the cloud was an achievement. They were thick, almost like oatmeal, and full of perilous lightning. Once you get through that you were as good as landed.

‘Where you come over from, Loo-tenant?’ inquired the co-pilot.

‘Earth. Originally. But based at Nuba.’

‘Nuba. Ha, we went there once di'n' we, Cap?’

The co-pilot smiled to himself, obviously a memory of some whore on his mind.

‘Er, shouldn’t you be watching what you’re doin’?’ Hewton was perversely looking out now and could see balls of dust being blown by the reverse thrusters as they brought them smoothly to land. The co-pilot watched in interest for a moment longer but soon pulled his gaze away and resumed with the procedure.

‘Welcome to Grantley Major, Loo-tenant.’ Hewton felt all right now, but needed a drink.

Two hours later Tenison was washed and sitting in the hotel lobby reading the local papers and surveying the scene. He had his third drink by his feet and his stomach had settled. The large atrium canopy gave a view of the distinctive blue air that swirled in great patterns all day. The clouds above, thick and thunderous, were stained by the mysterious hue.

Soon Junks, the Chief of Police was there to talk shop. ‘You had dinner yet, Tenison?’

‘I haven’t yet, no.’

‘I’ll spot ya. I’m famished.’

There was a farm planet in the Grantley sector that had actual cattle, so you could always get a steak.

As they ate, the chief explained their predicament. A number of colonists found dead. Their bodies had been scooped out, leaving just the bones and skins.

‘We’ve been led to believe that the Carnartions are involved. On their planet, we are given to understand this is regular.’

‘I’ve learnt to understand that that you should never be given to understand anything.'

'I don’t like the Carnartions that much myself, but you have to be fair.’

The chief let out a grunt. ‘I have to secure the peace of all that live and work here.’

There had been another murder overnight and Hewton was rushed to the scene. He’d been up late last night, reviewing the case notes.

‘Must we really go by speeder?’ complained the chief as the ancient land cruiser conveyed them slowly towards the scene of crime.

‘I’m not a good flyer,’ explained Tenison.

‘But it only does three thousand miles an hour. The Carnartion pigs who did this will be long gone.’

They got there in forty-five minutes and indeed the area was deserted, save for the de-bodied skin and leftover bones strewn across the rocky ground. A loud siren and warning beacon alerted them to a hover ship above, about to land.

The scenes of crime officers were there at once, everywhere.

‘We’ll find who did this,’ one of them beamed.

‘You’re the dick from Nuba, ain’t cha?’ asked the one in charge, sticking out his hand.

‘Yeah, Hewton. I was on the way back to earth, when I was sent here.’

‘Yeah, well you needn’t have bothered. We can handle it. Why they send you?’

‘Just lucky, I guess. I was here before, so I know the layout.’

‘And you think it’s the Carnartions?’

‘I have no basis for comparison.’

‘A lot of use you are, then. Well, thanks for your input, but we’ll take it from here.’

Hey, that’s fine, thought Hewton. They shook hands and Hewton left Junks with the new officers.

Back at the hotel he read the papers and had some lunch. He was packed and the shuttle was due soon. Hell, he thought, I might as well stay for a bit. It’s a long way back to earth, and he’d have to go via Nuba. He was due here for three days; he might as well stay and exhaust his expense account.

There was a band on later from Hoyl; he hadn’t seen a band in ages and the chicks from Hoyl were pretty game. He went out on the balcony and looked out over the landscaped “Earth garden” that surrounded three sides of the hotel.

Just then a large-set sweaty Kindler approached, ‘Is it Hewton- the officer from Nuba?’

‘Ah ha.’

‘My name’s Henderson, I’m…’

‘I know who you are. Pleasure.’

Henderson only drank water and while they talked Hewton did likewise, to remain lucid.

‘You were here when we first started digging?’ asked the fat man.

‘Yes. There was some concern that because we only had convicts and others who were happy to be sent to this shi- this far-flung planet, that there might be a discipline problem.’

‘Well, it was very fortuitous for all of them. We have done well here.’

‘And have you shared the wealth with your diggers?’

‘Well, no of course not. But they continue to have work. And get well paid. Camphor is in greater abundance here than we thought.’

Oil had been in abundance on earth once, and Fejit on Lesser Uni: the gravy trains always ran out of stock. No use pissing in the soup though.

‘So obviously we are concerned with these murders,’ continued Henderson.

‘My colleagues are dealing with that.’

‘I thought you were sent. I believe you are very good. Very officious.’

‘So I’ve been told. But my services were dispensed with.’

‘And you’re okay with that?’

Hewton shrugged his shoulders. It was only a regular bout of murders on a mining planet- pretty typical. It was either some disgruntled grudge or a remnant of the native population making a protest; they’d work it out.

‘I’d value your opinion anyway,’ said Henderson. ‘You see the Carnartions are involved in a legal dispute at the moment. They are reforming, they claim, and want full rights to be extended to them. They work well, but do we really want to give them full rights, given their history?’

‘That’s the way of the world, as it were,’ remarked Hewton. He ordered a proper drink. ‘If they have reformed, well.’

‘But that’s just the thing, Lieutenant. This incident demonstrates that they are not to be trusted, give them an inch and all that. We could do with a quick conviction so we can get back to business and put them back in their place.’

‘You keep inviting them over,’ said Hewton, instead of leaving the filthy bastards where they are, he was wanted to say.

‘Well they’re good workers as I say.’

The next morning, Hewton, showered and robed, sat on his balcony overlooking the Garden and breathed in the blue air. It could be dangerous to expose yourself to too much, but he was well travelled enough to be pretty resilient to most atmospheres.

‘It gets to you eventually, doesn’t it?’ The Carnartion chick, who he’d picked up last night and whose name he had yet to remember, had risen and was approaching him. ‘The air I mean. It has a certain effect on you.’

She stood there naked and inviting but Hewton was tired and hungover. ‘I’ve ordered some breakfast, if you fancy it,’ he said.

Twenty minutes later they sat and ate.

‘It’s not true what people say about us, you know?’ she commented. He had mentioned who he was and why he was there and she was keen to distance her race from the murders. ‘I suppose you haven’t been told about our dead?’

‘Oh?’ He was interested though he didn’t really care.

‘A number of our people have been found murdered and scooped out, like the ones they’ve been reporting.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘My own brother is missing after going into the mines, but they do nothing.’

That afternoon both intrigued by the girl’s story, and eager to visit the mines he hadn’t seen in over ten years, he went with her to her homestead. He went to the mine worked by her family and spoke to a few of her people.

‘He was working down that shaft. It’s one of the shafts that lead right into the planet core, so obviously we can’t be sure what happened, but no one will go there now.’

Something beeped in Hewton’s mind. He stepped towards the nearest deep-mine shaft. It was darker than any part of space he had been to but he could hear a dull throbbing noise and splashing. It was the sound of something being made.

That night Hewton went back to the Carnartions’ home. ‘Where is Absda?’ he asked the girl’s mother.

‘She went down to look for her brother again.’

‘She didn’t go looking down the shaft?’

‘She may have. Look Lieutenant, we don’t know why you’re looking into this, no-body else does. They don’t care about us.’

‘I’m just trying to uncover the truth.’

He went to the shaft and looked in to its gaping mouth. ‘Absda,’ he shouted.

No answer.

He returned to his transporter. He got his Line-camera and some rope. Gingerly he proceeded into the shaft fastening himself to the walls every hundred feet or so with rope. Eventually, he reached as far as he dare and unwrapped his camera. There was no light here but the camera had a built-in illuminator. He placed it on the ground and trusted its wheels to lead it farther into the foreboding tunnel. He put the goggle headset on to view the camera’s findings.

Fifteen minutes later he saw the heart of the so-called nothing. ‘Jesus. That’s a new one,’ he said out loud the shaft. Certainly there was no one there picking people off. It seemed to be worse than that.

The following morning Hewton was summoned to the desert once more. Another murder. He wasn’t surprised to see that it was Absda, or least what was left of her.

‘Odd that we’re investigating a Carnartion murder,’ joked Junks who had obviously stayed out well into the night.

Funny, thought Hewton, but if you’d done this from the beginning. ‘But it shows that it is not the Carnartions doing this.’

‘Oh could be. This is maybe some slut who pissed one of them off. There’s someone lurking in the depths down there, but we’ll get them.’

‘I’ve seen what’s down there. Come with me. I’m going to see Henderson. One last time.’

Henderson arrived but clearly he was unsure about seeing the off-planeter again. He got them all some drinks in the lobby. Hewton had a stiff one; he was off-duty now- just an interested party making his report. Junks watched the girls making their way to the pool obviously feeling that the case was sewn up, without Hewton’s help.

‘So what have you found?’ asked Henderson, ‘Because I understand that an arrest has been made.’

Junks nodded.

Hewton told what he had seen. ‘It’s the planet. It is consuming the miners.’

‘The planet. What ever do you mean?’ Henderson was incredulous.

‘There’s a well down there, the source of your precious Camphor. But it seems to feed on flesh. Somehow it processes this into your mineral, feeding back to your tunnels and mines.’

Junks snorted and didn’t know whether or not to laugh. Henderson was shocked, but something in his eye suggested that he knew more than he was letting on.

Finally he made light of it, ‘If that’s true then Camphor will last forever and we’ll never be without it.’

‘While the planet devours the people sent to mine it?’

‘That’s only your opinion,’ said Junks.

‘Do you really think we wouldn’t know?’ quizzed Henderson, ‘you obviously don’t appreciate my position. But I appreciate your input. And I thank you for your efforts. I was right to send for you. You have been very helpful.’

Hewton thought: Yes, well I’m very officious aren’t I? But I appreciate your position all right.

‘Who cares if we arrest Carnartions for this? Not you I dare say?’ urged Junks.

Hewton made his leave, and packed his stuff. His time on Grantley Major was over and he wanted to get on with his holiday. As he left the planet he passed a convoy of colonists ships filled eager new diggers. Was it worth filing a report, or should he push on to earth, these Camphor-fuelled ships were the fastest available.