KILLER PLANET

Next morning, Martha left her apartment and walked down the street. She stopped in front of a store and read a newspaper headline:

Gloucester Petrol Co. Signs

Drilling Agreement with Mercury Government

Beneath the title she discovered a photo of Lord Gloucester shaking hands with a Mercurian deputy.

“My father has secured his fortune for another 50 years,” she heard behind her.

Martha turned around and found Anaximandra, wearing a black mourning suit and dark glasses. A huge diamond hung from a thick gold necklace around her throat.

“Anaximandra!” She exclaimed. “What a coincidence!”

“You have reason to be suspicious of me,” Anaximandra said, kissing her on both cheeks. “After all, I was the one who accused Cleopatra of stealing my mother’s diamond.”

“A family dispute with no consequences,” Martha smiled.

“My sister never forgave me. Since then everyone believed that I hated her. But they were wrong. I still love her.”

“All that is buried and forgotten,” Martha comforted her. “Are you going to your office?”

Anaximandra nodded.

“I will accompany you.”

They walked several meters in silence over the pink-marble street.

“That diamond suits you very well!” Martha said.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Anaximandra asked with sudden emotion. “And to think that it almost ends in a pipe! You don’t know how in debt I’m to Fabio!”

“I wish you’d convey to your husband such good appreciation,” Martha replied.

“I am so sorry for you!” Anaximandra excused herself.

“Sir Weyden appears quite intolerant towards Fabio.”

“You must understand him,” said Anaximandra. “You know Fabio and I were dating for a while.”

“I also know that. But I’m gentle with you.”

Anaximandra stepped back.

“Because you are special.”

“Did Lord Gloucester give it to you? I mean, that diamond.”

“It was part of half of mom’s jewelry,” Anaximandra said, walking at ease. “I handed Cleopatra the other half. Dad asked me once for them, but I refused to obey him. My stepmother was unworthy of such a jewel.”

“Nefertiti?”

“That scandalous and detestable treacherous woman!” Anaximandra sobbed, stopping her march.

Martha offered her a handkerchief that she drew from her belly wallet.

“Thanks,” Anaximandra said, wiping tears from her cheek. “When mom got sick Cleopatra was away from home. It was the one who accompanied her, sitting next to her hospital bed. I didn’t know when she died. I was crying and crying over the corpse of who now is just remembered as the former Lady Gloucester. Dad, meanwhile, was hanging out with Nefertiti in a nearby hotel. ‘Never mind! The doctors will take care of mom!’ he said to me that afternoon. I still have in my mind the faces of the nurse and the doctor who last examined her. They were neutral, as butchers are when they choose their cuts.

Martha pictured Anaximandra, with tears in her eyes, dialing Lord Gloucester’s code over and over again: “Dad? ... Mom passed away ... Aren’t you coming, Dad? ... Dad!” And her body falling to the ground, where she sobbed inconsolably until a charitable nurse sedated her.

“Cleopatra never told me,” Martha cleared her throat.

“She felt guilty as well, somehow.”

Martha examined the diamond again. Its brilliance charmed her. “Diamonds are like the sun,” Fabio had once told her. “Reality exceeds their remembrance.”

“It’s a beautiful gold chain,” said Martha. Was it also part of half of the jewelry?

“Oh no!” Anaximandra composed herself. “It’s my husband’s wedding gift ...”

And without waiting for an answer, Anaximandra handed Martha various documents.

“You will find evidence of our innocence in these documents,” she said.

“Your alibi?”

“Max and I spent the whole night in a hotel in Silver Beach. You can check the phone number and address.”

“You suspect your sister was killed, Anaximandra? ... Or should I say, Lady Weyden?”

“Yes, but…”

“Yes?”

“I hope you understand,” Anaximandra said, “we should never see each other again. I came to tell you personally.”

“Why not?”

“My husband. He is extremely upset by this investigation.”

“I don’t understand,” said Martha. “So, why do you risk bothering him even more? You were waiting for me ...”

“I’m really fond of you both,” Anaximandra apologized. “I am trying to help you.”

“Denouncing your stepmother?”

“How can you be so surly?” Anaximandra exclaimed. “You are not diplomatic at all. I see that you share the same indisposition my sister had against me.”

Anaximandra stood up.

“Cleopatra almost died twenty-two years ago, in the Iron River, right?”

Anaximandra looked at Martha visibly surprised. Martha smiled wryly.

“I should have talked to Fabio about it,” Anaximandra said, “but I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m pretty aware of everything that happened between you both, Anaximandra.”

“Have you discovered his mark on her thigh yet?” Anaximandra asked sardonically.

“You have a bitter tongue, Lady Weyden,” Martha said threateningly.

Anaximandra turned around with a trembling jaw.

At the same time, in the center of Magnesium, Fabio descended from his gravitaxi and walked through its streets towards Nickel Port. A virtual map projected by his ring guided him here and there. The street names emerged one after another, as in a dream, until he was able to find his destination: “The Original Martian.”

He reproduced the three-dimensional hologram of the inn in black and white in the air and verified its identity.

“True English specializes in receiving foreign visitors,” said the voice of his personal robot just before he stepped onto its gardens.

Fabio knocked on an iron door framed by demons carved in wood. Mrs. Grave opened the sheets wide.

“Hello! “she told him. “I was waiting for you, Monsieur.”

Minutes later, Fabio and Mrs. Grave were having tea and biting butter cookies in the reception room of “The authentic Martian” inn.

“Unfortunately,” said Mrs. Grave, “Doctor Philippe left this house without warning me. At this point he should be back in Neptune, enjoying the enviable climate of its beaches.”

“How long did he live with you?”

“One year.”

“Do you know his new address?”

“I’m not his mother,” Mrs. Grave said dryly. “If for any reason you meet him, sir, remind him to contact me. He forgot to pay his last encryption bill.”

“What was he doing on Mars?”

“Business. He worked for a horrendous consulting company in Nickel Port: Wagnall’s.”

“Work?” Fabio asked. “Doesn’t he work anymore?”

Mrs. Grave smiled impatiently.

“Perhaps they can help you, Monsieur. I’ll write their address for you.”

Mrs. Grave got up and walked over to what appeared to be her desk. Just then, Whitney, a red-haired 45-year-old woman entered the room holding a white envelope in her right hand.

“Oh!” She apologized, backing away. “I didn’t know you were here with someone else.”

Mrs. Grave immobilized her with a sign of her right hand.

“No problem. Inspector Fabio, Mrs. Whitney Rush, my oldest tenant.”

Fabio and Whitney exchanged smiles. Whitney handed Mrs. Grave an envelope.

Fabio scrutinized her with an eagle gaze.

“I must go,” said Ms. Whitney, leaving the room.

Mrs. Grave wrote an address on a sheet of paper.

“Your house is beautiful, Ms. Grave,” said Fabio, “and it’s well maintained.”

“Thank you. The mortgage rate has increased scandalously over the past two years. We try to do our best.”

“We?” Fabio asked. “I thought you lived alone, Madame.”

“We are soul and body, Monsieur,” she replied shrewdly. “I am a faithful reader of the Orion volumes that validate the Gospels.”

“Of course,” Fabio agreed. “Incidentally, I have a note here that you wrote to Wagnall’s consulting firm about three weeks ago.”

Mrs. Grave dropped her pen and looked upset at Fabio.

“Have you gone to Wagnall’s already? Don’t you need their address then.”

“Did you say Wagnall’s?” Fabio asked. “Excuse me. I have a terrible ear. My mind is so confused. Anyway, in this note you acknowledge that “The Authentic Martian” has never been, and never will be, a BUSINESS hotel, but a family inn.``

Mrs. Grave placed her right hand on her breast.

“That was just an expression,” she said in a helpless, pitiful voice, “but congratulations! You made me realize my mistake! Now we are even!”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” said Fabio.

“How else can I help you, sir?” Mrs. Grave asked.

“I understand that, unlike your sister, you are a pro-genetic activist, Mrs. Grave.”

“And I will continue to do so until I die.”

“Did you know that Cleopatra Gloucester and her stepmother are degenetization activists?”

“Murder activists, sir,” Mrs. Grave corrected him. “And also my sister Guillermina. Murder activists, Monsieur.”

“Interesting appreciation.”

“What are you trying to prove? Do you suspect that I poisoned Cleopatra and hung her corpse from a tree? Do you consider me capable of killing someone? I fight for the living, monsieur.

Fabio stood up on a purple wool rug.

“I see that!” he exclaimed condescendingly. “No one murders for the interests of death, Madame. Thank you very much for the cookies.”

“I baked them myself,” Mrs. Grave said with sudden enthusiasm.

“They were excellent.”

“I could have poisoned you,” Mrs. Grave with Martian sarcasm. “You trust too much on your suspects, Monsieur.”

“I also take my precautions,” Fabio smiled. “Now, excuse me, I must go to the hospital.”

Fabio’s robotaxi descended just outside the inn. He went up to the cabine’s backyard as Mrs. Grave waved him off. The ship flew swiftly into the air.

Fabio traveled back to the hotel over the green Nickel Gardens. As he descended, Martha approached him smiling. They hugged and kissed passionately.

“Come with me,” she said, “I want to show you something.”

They walked for about ten minutes until they reached the top of a nearby hill. From there, at the foot of the next hill, Fabio discovered a cabin communicated from the main road by a long pebble path.

“Follow me,” Martha added.

They walked through a narrow gorge until they descended into a valley and entered a small esplanade that led them to a cabin. Martha pushed open the door and entered first. Fabio followed her and went to the reception desk, where a bald woman in her 30s seemed to be waiting for them at a wooden stool.

“Good afternoon,” she said in a shrill voice. “How can I help you?”

“We talked on the phone this morning,” Martha said, “Your name is Mrs. Schmullson, I think.”

“We did! Madame Saint-André?”

Martha nodded affirmatively.

“Let’s see ...” Mrs. Schmullson murmured, reading a notebook. After several minutes she found a note and smirked.

“I see you have already paid your reservation.”

“True…” said Martha.

“Yes,” Mrs. Schmullson repeated stupidly.

“Could you show us Sir and Lady Weyden’s wedding night mansion?” Fabio asked.

“Please follow me,” Mrs. Schmullson agreed after a brief pause.

Fabio and Martha were guided over a large park, where they discovered a parked green painted golf gravimotor. The receptionist took the driver’s seat and invited them in. They climbed up and were driven over the tops of sycamore trees for several miles. Martha, sitting next to the pilot, identified about three foxes looking at them curiously from the open field. Hearing the soft hum of the gravimotor, the mammals hid among the trees and bushes that surrounded the carefully cut grass. After ten minutes Mrs. Schmullson descended next to a humongous wooden mansion to the edge of a steep abyss.

“I saw the Weyden at the reception around eight in the afternoon,” said Mrs. Schmullson . A member of our staff brought them here.”

Martha came out as soon as the gravimotor stopped.

“An open and quiet space,” she said, “with no neighbors around.”

“Quite far from the golf course,” said Fabio.

“This mansion was formerly a club for private receptions,” Mrs. Schmullson explained, walking into a large high-pillared hall. “You’ll have at your disposal tonight one of the most historical rooms in Magnesium City.”

They stopped at the edge of an immense hall with parquet flooring, almost sixty meters in diameter, with finely carved wooden columns spiraling to its sides. The receptionist pressed the screen of her mobile and the wooden dome slid in four sections showing the blue sky in all its fullness.

“Now I understand your strangeness when I told you we wanted to spend a day alone in this mansion,” said Martha.

“My surprise was greatest when Sir Weyden requested this mansion for his wedding night,” said Mrs. Schmullson . “A four-ton gravitruck arrived a week before the wedding and unloaded the decoration elements, which were installed in absolute secrecy for three days. You know! The groom wanted to surprise the bride!

Martha laughed heartily.

“It must have been majestic,” she said.

“I suppose that the cleaning of those elements,” said Fabio, “must have taken you several days.”

“Sir Weyden rented the mansion for two weeks,” said Mrs. Schmullson . “He ordered us not to enter into his private lodgings for those days. The week after the wedding night, the gravitruck returned and, introducing an absorbent hose from the ceiling, collected all the implements of that decoration, which remained and will remain in absolute secrecy.”

“The press never found out about their stay?”

“Our hotel chain has a security system that identifies and expels journalists and paparazzi,” Mrs. Schmullson denied with a gesture, “we also have free air-traffic skies. Now I invite you to visit the secondary rooms, and the terrace of our wooden mansion, on the tenth floor, from where we can see the reception cabin.

They ascended into a spacious hall with a beautiful rococo fireplace decorated with scenes from Dante’s Divine Comedy.

“Would it be possible for the married couple to leave this mansion without your surveillance?” Fabio asked.

“Impossible,” said Mrs. Schmullson . “We monitor all our entrances with video cameras.”

“But here I don’t detect cameras inside,” Fabio said, consulting her mobile.

“It’s the law,” said Mrs. Schmullson . “We protect the privacy of our guests in their premises.”

“I’m such a fool,” said Fabio.

“You can leave us alone,” Martha said. “Thank you very much, Ms. Schmulson.”

Two hours later Fabio visited Inspector Keiichi’s apartment. Two young Plutonian girls were standing outside his door. They greeted Fabio and told him that on his planet men like him were considered very handsome. Fabio told them that he had been twice to Pluto and that he knew very well how understanding Plutonians were towards sexuality. Keiichi invited them all to enter his bedroom.

“They are foreign girls,” said Keiichi, “in the prime of their youth. They want to express their appreciation for getting them a decent job as cadets on Mars. Can you help me to perform my duty?

“I’d rather wait for them,” said Fabio.

“What an uxorious husband!” Keiichi exclaimed, entering his room with the Plutonian maidens.

While they were making love Fabio extracted his mobile and research on the history of the genetization and degenetization movements. It started in 2504, after scientists discovered that humans could also procreate embryos through cell grafts in their legs or arms. After one month, embryos were removed to be incubated by matrices developed since the 23rd century. Humanity had then a considerable population increase, which would ultimately allow the pre-Orion colonization of Mars. Since then, all girls were all unfertilized from birth in order to avoid the risks women endured during their pregnancies for centuries. The successive abandonment of children to the earthly government of that time by adolescents of both sexes, however, prompted a rigorous control of the genetic devices, which were henceforth provided by means of a complex set of rules. An interplanetary commission thereafter determined the number of embryos that the state would accept each year. Embryos would be required from donors according to an algorithm that included their gender, education, and socioeconomic status. Families formed according to marriage union rituals were exempt from this control, which caused the birth of the pro-degenetization movement. Its first ideologues postulated that humanity should adhere exclusively to the rules of the state algorithm, which should also determine the creation of new families according to affinities that should no longer be genetic but mathematical. The discussion lasted for several centuries, and acquired racist overtones with the first interplanetary marriages of the post-Orion era. “Is it proper of the Mars government,” they asked rhetorically, “to develop Martian beings from embryos genetized by a Mercurian man? According to universal laws, yes. Radical groups, which went to the extreme of bombing embryonic matrix centers in the 31st century, became legal with the creation of the pro-degeneration societies, the main functions of which were since then to educate and to persuade interplanetary couples with the right to generate embryos, to sacrifice their privilege, and to adapt to the mathematical criteria of state procreation. Fabio also did research at a local level and discovered that the most conspicuous progenetization society in Titanium city was Eleutheria, which in an ancient Terran language was the word for freedom.

Keiichi and the girls came out neatly dressed from the bedroom.

“This is our way of thanking Inspector Keiichi for his care,” one of them said coquettishly to Fabio.

Fabio agreed condescendingly, pondering on the changes in morality through the centuries. Until the 20th century women and men copulated according to patriarchal codes, in which a woman who cheated on her husband was accused of adultery and imprisoned or stoned. From the 21st century to the 26th century the code became matriarchal, where a man who provoked a woman’s anger was liable to be accused of rape by her. Since the 26th century, the law of sexual equality determined that if a mutual consensus was proven among those over 16 years of age, neither party could sue the other.

“We’ll escort them to the gravimeter station,” Keiichi said, pulling on a woolen cloth coat.

They dropped the girls off at the station and entered the Titanium Medical Center, one of the best hospitals on northern Mars. A young nurse received them.

“Amma,” Keiichi said to Fabio. “One of my dearest friends. This is Fabio, my university roommate.”

“I always have a few minutes for the smartest inspector in Titanium City,” Amma said as she opened a wooden door. “As you will see, Mister Sousa’s face is partially bandaged.”

Keiichi shook his head affirmatively. The nurse closed the door behind them. Fabio took a pressed bamboo stool and sat next to Herman. His bloodshot eyes stared back at him.

“Do you like kids?” Fabio asked after a brief greeting.

“No,” said Herman Sousa. “Why do you ask?”

“I have reasons to believe that Cleopatra wanted to have a child with you.”

“She wanted many things that I couldn’t give her,” Hernan replied.

“We are glad to know that she will be fine for this weekend,” Keiichi consoled him, “just in time to start training with your club.”

“I should have died instead!” Hernan moaned weakly.

Fabio and Keiichi exchanged a look.

“I know you suspect me,” Hernan murmured.

“Do you remember…,” Keiichi asked, “how it happened?”

“I asked Cleopatra not to join the wedding party. It was not comfortable for me. We all know that I am not of the affection of Mister and Lady Gloucester.”

“We still haven’t understood how Cleopatra died,” said Fabio. “You were with her the whole time, weren’t you?”

“We went to a pub in the afternoon,” Hernan replied. “We had a strong discussion about our future plans. The University of Saturn offered her a scholarship.

As Hernan described what happened, Fabio visualized Hernan’s Benz Gravilimousine parking in front of Sir Weyden’s house. Hernan, visibly irritated, got out of the car and opened the door for Cleopatra, who immediately left with a loud bang on the door of the Benz Gravilimousine.

“We can still resolve our differences,” Hernan pleaded to her. “Why don’t we go to my apartment? ”

“I promised my father and Nefertiti that I would not leave them alone tonight.”

“As you say!” Hernan shouted.

Cleopatra walked back to the mansion and disappeared into the shadows. Hernan then entered back into the gravimotor. He started the engine and rose into the air.

“We loved each other,” Hernan said from his bed, “but she yearned for independence.”

“Why didn’t you support her in her decision to go to the University of Saturn?” Keiichi asked, “A prestigious university persuades even a sports celebrity.”

“I can’t live alone.”

Fabio and Keiichi looked at him with an expression of surprise. Hernan groaned again.

“What time did you leave Cleopatra at home?” Fabio asked.

“Around eight-forty,” said Hernan, clinging to the rails of his bed in a gesture of pain.

“And he rammed his gravimotor against the wall at ten minutes to nine,” said Keiichi.

“I drank a tranquilizer on my way home,” said Fabio. “Then I thought one more time, well, we must resolve our differences. So I made a 180 degree turn right over the condor chasm and flew back to Sir Weyden’s house ...”

Fabio imagined Hernan driving his gravimotor impetuously through the clear sky. His gravimotor descended swiftly, stopping just outside the front door of Lord Gloucester’s house.

“I wasn’t sure if the party was still going on,” said Hernan.

“Do you remember anything else?” Fabio asked. “Something extraordinary?”

“Well ...” Hernán hesitated, “just as I was descending from the firmament to the Gloucester mansion I saw Mr. Cancerbero ascending in his gravimotor. He was rubbing his cheek, as if someone had slapped him.”

“Are you sure?” Keiichi asked.

“You can’t be sure of anything,” Hernan replied. “I was anxious. I remember turning on the cabin lights of the gravimotor to pick up a cigarette box that laid on the floor, between the brake and the accelerator. It was then that I saw her hanging from the tree.”

Hernan’s eyes tightened behind his bandage mask, in a gesture of horror.

“How so?” Fabio asked.

“Gripping her hands around her neck, kicking in the air!”

Hernan stifled a moan in his throat.

“I lost my sense of reality. My foot hit the accelerator! I wanted to hit the brake, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t!

“And so the gravilimousine hit the wall,” Fabio concluded.

“That explains everything,” Keiichi said with a shrug.

“Are you sure she was holding on to her neck? With both hands?”

“I will never forget it! Never!”

Hernan breathed heavily, victim of an anxiety attack. Keiichi pressed the emergency button. A nurse opened the door with an irritated mien.

“You are disturbing him!” She accused them.

Hernan shook his head shyly.

“I think he needs a cup of tea,” said Keiichi.

“I beg you to go out and leave him alone,” the nurse demanded, placing an oxygen mask over Hernan’s face.

“The entire city demands his return,” Keiichi said to Fabio, walking toward the exit.

“Especially Lord Gloucester,” Fabio added before closing the door behind them.