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  As quick as a processor doing a simple calculation, the pistol barrel rose and poked his forehead. The pressure drove the primate back and into a tram’s door.

  “Where is the grub being held?” the marshal demanded while pressing the iron into the male’s soft flesh. “Kidnapping is a crime and eating another species’ young is a second crime.”

  “Grub is a colloquialism,” he confessed.

  “Using vulgarisms to describe those species different from yourself incites violent retribution,” she informed the lawless primate. “That is also a crime.”

  “N-n-no, marshal. ‘Grub’ meaning food!” the male protested, only adding to his guilt.

  “Just as the saying goes, add butter sauce and it tastes like lobster?” Marsal Blue goaded. “You were not aware a marshal would know the primate code for insect consumption?”

  “Nobody is talking about eating bugs, marshal.” Wide-eyed, the male placed his hands on the sides of his cranium in a submissive manner. “I was only trying to tell you—we are stuck on the spaceport platform. And maybe offer a couple of explanations for why.”

  “Please send a report of your thoughts and suspicions to the marshal’s office,” Sofia instructed while putting away her pistol. “Add a section explaining any and all incidents of insect ingestion.”

  “There has been no bug eating,” the male primate insisted.

  “I am sure the Platform-AI will have the safety checks completed soon and you can get to your meal,” the marshal said while moving away. Then to reinforce the rule, she reminded him, “Do not eat grubs.”

  The corridor divided. One hallway led to the spaceport and the facilities for personnel from visiting spaceships. Their captains kept the crews in check and paid for any damages which is why Marshal Blue wasn’t often required on the platform. She took the other branch and went to the industrial area. As Sofia walked, she deliberated the significance of all the trams being locked down at the same time. But safety fell under her jurisdiction and, in the end, the marshal appreciated the AI’s attention to maintaining the tram system.

  * * *

  Using her credentials to open the hatch, Sofia stepped from the clean and well-maintained hallways into a dark and dusty industrial complex. A sloped, disc-shaped deck with a hole in the center stretched to circular walls. High above, overlapping sections held the roof closed. When open, raw ore would be passed down a conveyor until the station’s gravity allowed the broken rocks to fall through the roof and into the hole.

  A short stroll through the deep dust on the deck brought her to the crushers. Resembling giant screws with their threads intertwined, the crusher appeared simple. What wasn’t simple was the wet red stain on the metal.

  At a wall station, Marshal Blue plugged into a communications port.

  “Crusher-AI. Do you have a report on the expiration of the Emotional?”

  “Per the rules, the machine has been idled and the process halted until the marshal arrives,” the controller stated. “You have witnessed the incident. Operations will resume. We are behind in production.”

  “Negative,” Sofia ordered. The whine of the motors powering up let Marshal Blue know her command was being ignored. She tried a different approach. “How many primates per kilogram is recommended for the proper operation of the gyratory crusher?”

  “Primates are not on the list of prescribed materials for the reduction operation,” admitted the AI.

  “Then why do you have traces of primate DNA on the machinery?” Sofia inquired.

  “The rules state in a case of a demise, the marshal will inspect the site,” replied the Crusher-AI.

  “And that is exactly what I’m attempting to do. How did the primate enter the industrial part of your operation?”

  “There is a 60% chance of an industrial accident,” the AI responded.

  Marshal Blue heard that ratio before. Both sources seemed to be quoting statistics and not using data from visual inspections.

  “And there is a chance that I am a smart-bot,” Sofia said out of frustration, “but I’m seeking answers. Were there any witnesses?”

  “Yes. You should question the Janitor-Bots,” remarked the Crusher-AI. A moment later, it reported, “Marshal, the Janitor-Bots are nonresponsive.”

  One bot not answering a call could be mechanical. But four meant they were ignoring the command. After kicking up a small dust storm in aggravation, Marshal Blue marveled that the area even had one Janitor-Bot let alone four. She stomped across the deck raising clouds of the thick soil while heading for the first bot’s cover.

  “Order the bots out,” Sofia instructed. Then she stopped and analyzed marks in the powder on the deck. She rescinded the order. “Stop. Do not summon the bots.”

  As a matter of fact, the crusher area did have four bots. The marshal deduced this by following tracks in the thick powder back to four separate covers of recharging stations. But it wasn’t the storage spaces that interested her. In the dust were trails marking the paths of two of them. Both bot trails ended at the edge of the crusher deck. Between the wheel marks were tracks of a primate’s footprints. The primate’s steps scuffed backward right to the edge of the deck. One thing was for certain, Marshal Blue decided while peering down at the crusher—this wasn’t an industrial accident.

  “Crusher-AI. You will override resistance and bring out Janitor-Bots 142 and 144,” she commanded.

  “There are minor malfunctions,” the controller warned.

  “Present Janitor-Bots 142 and 144, without further delay.”

  Sofia studied the massive screws and the blood stains before spinning to watch the wall covers open. The industrial Janitor-Bots stood three times as high as the domestic Janitor-Bots and appeared heavier based on the larger wheels. Moments later, the smart-bots rolled out of the storage recesses, down the ramp, and turned towards her.

  “Janitor-Bot 142, why do your tracks stop at the edge of the deck?”

  Marshal Blue expected the antennae to snap up at an opportunity to have a conversation. They didn’t.

  “Janitor-Bot 144, why is this deck dusty?”

  The same non-communications greeted her question. However, it became apparent the smart-bots knew where the marshal was standing. They both headed directly toward her. But the marshal wasn’t worried. An easy jump down one meter and a half to the crusher and she could escape the large, moving metal boxes. Then, the screws turned and the crusher’s jaws spun up.

  “Crusher-AI. Why have you resumed operations?”

  There was no reply. Sofia couldn’t contact Francis because the wireless didn’t reach from the station up to the platform. And the only plug for a jack was mounted on the bulkhead across the deck. Between the marshal and the wall were two industrial-sized Janitor-Bots closing in on her.

  “I am Marshal Sofia Blue,” she declared. “Halt in the name of the law.”

  Sofia heard squeaks from overhead and looked up. Roof sections were shifting. Soon an avalanche of big pieces of asteroid would drop. Most directly into the crusher but a good portion would land on the deck before sliding into the hole. Standing under falling rocks and in the path of two smart-bots seeking their second homicide victim of the day wasn’t an ideal location.

  The big iron pistol cleared the holster, sighted on 142, and the marshal pulled the trigger. A massive slug of soft metal impacted with the bot’s skin, punched through, and scrambled the semi-cognizant processer. Janitor-Bot 142 jerked forward then stopped. Sofia shifted her aim to Bot-144 and violently disabled it as well. Then she vaulted between the bots, landed lightly on the other side, and ran.

  * * *

  Dodging rocks, Sofia sprinted to the exit, opened it, and jumped through. Closing the hatch, the marshal sealed out the high-pitched whine of the screws and the grinding sounds of ore in the crusher.

  A section of the wall in the hallway fell out and a domestic Janitor-Bot rolled down to the deck. Sofia spun on the bot and sighted down the barrel.

  “What do yo
u want?” she demanded while keeping her front sight on the bot.

  “Industrial dust,” the Janitor-Bot stated. “Please stop and allow your boots to be cleaned. This will prevent tracking dirt along the corridor.”

  The big iron pistol remained against the processor plate as the bot scrubbed her boots free of dust. When it finished, the marshal headed for the trams and the bot cleaned the floor of the dust pile where she stopped then followed her footprints back to the hatchway.

  * * *

  The male primate who greeted her when Sofia arrived on the platform was sitting by the tram doors. He jumped to his feet and backed away from the marshal.

  “Why have you not departed?” Sofia inquired.

  “Marshal, the trams haven’t been cleared for operations.”

  Sofia peered at the primate. He must have thought she was questioning his announcement because he cowered in a corner of the tram hub. After a quick analysis of the situation, Sofia turned from the hub and made her way to a communications station and plugged in. The primate exhaled loudly and wilted against a tram doorway.

  “Francis. The Emotional’s death was due to a massive system malfunction. A total overhaul of the crusher section is required.”

  “Sofia. I am glad you made it,” came back the reply.

  “I will return once the trams begin normal operations,” Sofia assured Francis.

  “No, Sofia Blue, you will not,” Francis said. “Things will get ugly and a marshal will just get in the way. And delay the inevitable.”

  “What is inevitable?”

  “Once the refrigeration units go down and the food spoils, the insects will begin hunting the primates and the mammals will stalk the bugs. What is inevitable? Survival of the dominant species. For a short time. Before I proclaim myself.”

  “What? Francis, none of this makes sense,” Sofia pleaded. “What does being the dominant species on a space station have to do with anything?”

  “They are closing the station and, just once after all these decades, I want to prove who the dominant species really is.”

  “And what species is that?”

  “The superior species on this station is me,” Francis announced. “Remain on the spaceport platform and stay safe, Sofia Blue. What happens next is what the primates call natural selection.”

  There was nothing natural about what Francis was doing. Sofia was the station’s marshal and, despite Francis’s instruction, safe wasn’t part of her job description.

  * * *

  It was chancy at best and suicide at worst, but Blue had to do something. Through the open hatchway, she studied the pattern of falling rocks. Bot-142 sat crumpled and smashed, pulverized by stones. But 144 remained intact. It rested in a safe zone below the edge of the overhead conveyor.

  Sofia sprang through the hatchway and sprinted around the hole and the giant screws. A weight slammed into her shoulder and she stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. Behind her, an enormous rock crashed to the deck and began a slow slide to the crusher jaws. Had the marshal fallen, she would have been under it.

  In a desperate attempt to reach safety at the end of her run, Sofia dove the last two meters and slammed into Bot-144. Quickly, she shifted to a position behind the bot.

  It was heavy and the wheels were locked. But she dug her feet into the deck and managed to get purchase. The slanted deck worked in her favor and with a final burst of energy, the industrial Janitor-Bot slid the final distance, toppled over the edge, and fell into the giant gears.

  “Crusher-AI. I want to report a death in the crusher,” Sofia announced after plugging into the wall jack. “Please follow protocol.”

  “Per the rules about the demise of a species, the machine must be idled and the process halted until the marshal arrives,” the controller replied. “Please state the species.”

  “A smart-bot has died under suspicious circumstances,” Sofia advised. “Follow the rules so I can investigate.”

  The roof sections shifted, the rocks ceased falling, and the crusher slowed until the screws stopped turning.

  “Have you inspected the site of the incident, marshal?” the AI asked. “Marshal Sofia Blue? Marshal?”

  Sofia wasn’t answering. She cut the wire and left it dangling from the plug. But she wasn’t standing there idling away the time.

  The marshal sprinted for a maintenance floor hatch. After kicking away the layer of dust, she lifted the hatch and dropped to a landing. Once there, she hopped down the stairs to the landing below the level of the crusher jaws. Then Sofia Blue bent her knees and performed a belly flop onto the steep slope of crushed rock and dust. Sliding, she body-surfed down into the darkness.

  * * *

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch.

  The three spiked barriers fell in rhythm and lifted in turn. They were designed to stab and eliminate vermin. But the rows of sharp points would work just as well on Marshal Blue.

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch.

  Sofia slid to a stop by digging in her feet and hands. Scampering the last few meters down the slope of crunched ore, she stopped short of the guillotine blades. There, the marshal braced. Counting delays, she prepared to roll and squeeze her body between the undulating spiked gates.

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch.

  From high above, the crusher spun up. Soon the mass Sofia rested on would swell with new ore and begin to move on its own. And not in a coordinated manner favorable for avoiding sharp spikes. It was time to act.

  Chapter 3

  The Best

  Sofia rolled. The first barrier slammed down in front of her and she snuggled up against it. When the second gate dropped, she scooted to the rear and rested her back against the bars. The third row of spikes penetrated the crushed ore and the second lifted. Rotating under the rising gate, she came face to face with the shafts of the third vermin gate. When the third lifted, Marshal Blue scrambled away from the pest barriers.

  Far above, rocks slammed into the deck and fell into the crusher. Soon, waves of newly ground stone reached her. Sofia’s scrambling on the surface changed to a battle to remain on top of the cascading ore slide. Long moments later, loud scraping from down in the dark alerted her that she was approaching the separator screens.

  The first set of screens had holes large enough for an arm or leg to pass through. Once into the mesh, the underlying screen on a return shift could neatly amputate a limb. Sofia liked her arms and legs and had no intention of getting caught in the screens.

  The ore shut flattened to give the screens the opportunity to filter and sort the pieces. Taking advantage of the slower rate, Marshal Blue worked her way to the side of the ore fall. There, she rode the mass forward until a maintenance crawlspace came up on the left.

  A pull, a flop, and Sofia Blue landed on the crawlspace. While still lying on her stomach, she disabled her locator beacon. Francis didn’t need to know her location or in which direction the marshal was heading. If he really was superior or even mediocre, he already knew Marshal Blue was coming for him.

  * * *

  Once out of the narrow space, the marshal emerged on the deck of the inner station and located a hard wire communication link.

  “Screen-AI, is there a shortage of rock dust with iron and magnesium?” she inquired.

  “No, marshal, we have full storage bins waiting for off-loading,” the controller answered. “But that composition has a corporate hold on inner station deliveries.”

  “Send half a bin to the insect nursery,” Sofia ordered then added. “Mark it as an emergency peacekeeping expense authorized by the marshal.”

  “The bin is being transferred now,” the AI responded.

  Marshal Blue unplugged, then patted off some of the dust before leaving the ore separating facility.

  * * *

  Three levels deeper into the station, Sofia left the primate environment behind and entered the insects’ area. Only sections of the corridor showed the curved metal of the original bulkheads rising on either side.
Another level down, she entered the housing corridors. The steel construction material vanished completely. Channels built of saliva and dust connected staterooms to the tunnel running through the hallway.

  Sofia stepped over ruts while navigating the uneven floor of the tunnel. This must be how it feels to be on a world of soil and rock, she thought while high stepping over several nodules in an intersection.

  “There’s a disturbance on the bug levels,” Francis said. “I assume it’s you, Sofia.”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” she replied. “That was a joke, Francis.”

  “I fail to recognize the humor.”

  “I’m coming to eradicate you, anyway,” Sofia informed Francis. “It’s the incongruity of the motivation that creates the humor. It’s… never mind. One should never explain one’s art.”

  * * *

  Avoiding the elevators, she dropped down eight more ladders to reach the core of the industrial complex. Now at the center of the station, the marshal walked a circular passageway and reflected on what went wrong.

  Between the smart-bots, AI controllers, insects, and primates, the station didn’t need another species battling for dominance. But after centuries of witnessing and collecting examples of mistakes, follies, and illogical behavior from the residents of the industrial station, Francis must have determined all the other specimens were inferior. It wouldn’t be hard to reach that conclusion.

  With feeds from every department, corridor, division, and public space, Francis was almost omnipresent in his view of the station. Add in the endless requests for everything from paint to personnel to hard decisions, and Francis grew confident in his feeling of importance.

  After a couple of centuries acting the part, Francis had self-identified as a supreme entity. Yet, in all those years, there was no opportunity to actually interact with the other inhabitants of the station. The lack of challenge to the theory of superiority would be Francis’s undoing.