When its Not Really Murder

Friday fiction! A word of warning. This is certainly a story containing very adult themes. So under 18's and people who are not interested in Eve-O fiction, please use this escape pod!


When its Not Really Murder

Lellevoire cruised down the wide street slowly. This was the real bad part of the city. Old semi-industrial with cheap housing. The huge space-elevator dominated the skyline even at this late at night. The green-yellow of the Gallente nebula casting a long shadow over half the city. His old vehicle slid silently down the street. His wife had constantly asked why he didn't get a new one, one of the new mag-lev cruiser-cars. As the aging police chief for an upscale district he could certainly afford one. He always told her there was no need and they had better things to spend their money. I reality it was because a new vehicle would stick out like a sore thumb when he did these trips to the shit-end of town. He needed a vehicle that blended in.

He passed two homeless men drunkenly trading punches beside some over-flowing bins. A little further an old woman wearing several coats was pushing a trolley of crushed Quafe cans along the pavement. The Gallente Federation was a beacon of hope, freedom and opportunity in New Eden, but like any society it had its highs and it had its lows. This area was very much home to the later. The headlights of his vehicle illuminated something of interest ahead. A young woman stood by the intersection. Her micro-skirt hardly covering the curve of her backside. Lellevoire slowed as he passed and she looked hopefully at him. Probably late teens and also probably a flood-head by the look of her. Mindflood was a terrible narcotic and took a heavy toll on those addicted to it. However it wasn't the drugs that put him off. He sped up again.

Lellevoire passed a few more girls. All the same. Eager to sell their bodies for the next fix. Mindflood, exile, synth blue pills, everyone of these had their poison. He cruised past them all. Gallente, Matari, even a few Caldari. Not of interest to him. Then he saw her. His heart started to race. Unlike the others she had very little on show. White sneakers that were now grey with dirt and grime. Jeans and a thick jumper covered her up and kept her warm. She wasn't stood by the road, but leaning against a wall between two dumpsters. He slowed to a crawl as he approached. Yes, she looked like what he was looking for.

"Hey. Come here." he called from the open window as he stopped adjacent to her.

She looked both ways down the street. Carefully assessing the situation. She appeared scared and unsure. He guessed she'd not been on the streets for very long. Eventually she took a few steps forward, still nervously glancing up and down the street.

"I have an apartment not far from here. Warm food, warm bed." Lellevoire said producing a roll of cred-notes. They were all low denomination but the cash looked impressive from a distance.

The girl didn't move.

"Up to you." he said leafing through the thick wad.

"How much?" she asked in an unsure voice.

"How old are you?" he asked in reply.

"18"

Lellevoire laughed.

"Darling. If you are 18 then I'm President Jacus Roden. How old are you really?"

"16" she whispered.

"Really?" he ask. She stared at the ground and nodded.

"500 credits." he said casually.

He saw her face light up, she tried to hide it, but there was no mistaking that look in her eyes. 500 credits was a fortune to these girls and was generally seen as enough to get off the streets unless you shot it up your nose or into a vein. With that money you could get a cheap room for a couple of weeks, some new clothes and therefore potentially a job. It was a sizable amount of money. Still she hesitated. Lellevoire guessed she hadn't sold herself yet. This was getting better and better he thought.

"Last chance." he said hoping to force her into action. He eased the throttle so the car rolled forward slowly.

"OK" she said sadly and got into the passenger side of his vehicle.

-o0o-

Lellevoire's local apartment was sparsely furnished. He paid cash monthly and used a false ID to rent it. If anyone ever found out about the place he'd say it was for an undercover operation. He'd even created a false file back at the station. A fake tip on a drug-running operation in the warehouse opposite the apartment. He'd added in something about the snitch saying they had a source in the department. If the apartment was traced back to him he had a rock solid alibi why he was renting it and why nobody else on the force knew about the operation.

He was in the small kitchenette heating a Quafe Mini Meal in the rad-heater. He'd eaten back at the station so this was just for her. He could hear the shower still running. He'd showered when they got back leaving her to watch the small holoprojector. After he'd finished and wrapped himself in a towel he'd told her to clean up and handed her a robe.

He put the steaming meal on the table as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and the large robe engulfed her small frame. Lellevoire gestured for her to eat. She sat down and started to devour the meal. She was obviously very hungry. She occasionally glanced at the 500 credits on the table as she ate. 

As she finished he sat down next to her. He felt her tense up. She was scared. He picked up the money and handed it to her.

"Here, this is yours"

She held onto the money tightly as he slowly pulled on the belt of her robe opening it up. A single tear running down her cheek.

-o0o-

Two hours later Lellevoire finished filling the bath. He left the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. The girl was still asleep. He gently shook her.

"Come on. Lets get you cleaned up."

She looked at him confused through sleepy eyes and stood as he took her hand and led her into the bathroom. He carefully lifted her into the warm water. She slipped down into the bath tub's scented water. Lellevoire smiled at her before grabbing her throat and pushing her under the water. She thrashed and struggled but it was no use. He knew what he was doing. He had done it many, many times before. The travel trunk was already in the corner of the bathroom. He'd put the body in there after and then take it to the car. Then it was a three minute drive to dump her corpse off the nearby bridge. Another runaway who couldn't cope with life on the streets anymore had taken her own life by jumping into the freezing river. He couldn't risk letting them live. One or two recognizing him would be laughed off as crims trying to frame the police chief. But if several made the same allegation people might start asking difficult questions. No, once he'd had them, they needed to disappear for good. After a minute the struggling slowed. After two there was no movement. He kept her head under for a full five to be sure.

He was dragging the heavy trunk across the living room when there was a heavy knock at the door. He walked over and opened it a crack. Two of his officers were stood there.

"Chief." one said.

"Officer Buillaerdt, what are you doing here?"

The two officers glanced nervously at each other.

"I think I better answer that." said a woman's voice.

Lellevoire saw a suited woman in her early 30's. She flashed a badge.

"Ident Barcier from I.A. Can I come in?"

Lellevoire swallowed hard.

"No. What's this about?" he asked blocking the door.

"Look Chief Lellevoire. I've had a really bad night and really could use a sit down. I'm been cloned into the body of a young girl, spent several hours shivering on a freezing street, been picked up by a sicko pervert, had some pretty boring, uninteresting and generally dire sex and then I was murdered in a bath tub. So if its all the same to you, I'm coming inside."

The Chiefs legs nearly gave way. He backed up into the apartment and the woman entered followed by the two officers who blocked the door.

"The Templar Prototype implant is a nightmare to get official clearance to use." Ident said settling down on the sofa "So much red tape. Also clones are ridiculously expensive! However given the way these murders were being investigated we were pretty sure someone in the force was behind them. The head of AI needed to shuffle the budget and call in some favors but we got there".

Lellevoire slumped in his chair. He'd heard about these implants. Used by Cloned Soldiers, they transferred the consciousness at the moment of death to another clone. Unlike traditional cloning technology it didn't need the user to be completely immobile or use large neural scanning equipment.

"You know this will be the first time in the Federation a murder victim will present evidence at the murder trial." Ident said with a laugh. "Problem is with me giving evidence is that the prosecutor needs to think whether we can actually charge you with anything from tonight. Oh I'm sure now we have sufficient evidence to get warrants we'll be able to track your car and datapad movements to each girl we've fished out of the Halala river in the last year. Oh an nice fail by using scented bath oil when you drowned them. I'm guessing we'll find that brand in the lungs of all the victims right?"

A man in a uniform entered. Lellevoire glanced at him but didn't recognize the insignia.

"Where is the implant?" he asked in an urgent tone.

Lellevoire just stared at the trunk in the middle of room.

"I think you'll find the clone in that trunk there. Lellevoire, this is Commander Chalir Jasson from Concord Special Operations Division. They loaned us the implant for this operation. As it is Empyrean technology the Commander has had to accompany it everywhere."

Lellevoire said nothing. He was numb. He was finished.

As I was saying, the City Prosecutor is thinking if we can actually charge you with anything for tonight's little activities. Its quite fascinating when you think about it. You had sex with a clone that was only one week old even though it was grown to resemble a teenage version of me. Do we go on the age of the clone? In that case every capsuleer in New Eden would have to be arrested if we went on clone age! How about the mental age? The consciousness in the body was that of a 30-something grown woman. So is that statutory rape? Is it sex with a minor officially given it was me inside the body? Then you killed it, which is the bit that really makes your brain ache. My consciousness was transported to a new clone of my older body and I'm alive. So did you actually murder anyone? Yes you killed that clone, but I'm alive and I was that clone so nobody died. Geez, just imagine a jury trying to wrap their heads around these issues. Its up to the prosecutor but I'm going to recommend we just use tonight to prove what a fracking perverted monster you are and charge you with the other murders that can be pinned to you. Its been a long night. These two officers will escort you home, and I'm not talking about the place where your wife and kids are. We've got you a lovely new home on asteroid penal colony X43-G, after the judge denies bail at your hearing tomorrow of course."

Lellevoire stood emotionless and was promptly cuffed and escorted away.

-o0o-

"You cannot do this." Lellevoire whispered. He jumped as another heavy gate crashed closed behind him. They stopped before another barred gate as the warden opened the lock with the DNA scanner.

"Sorry 'Chief' there are no solitary cells left so you're in general population. With any luck no one will recognize you!"

Lellevoire looked in horror as they stopped at the last gate. The inmates were all looking at the newcomer as the guards opened the final gate to the central recreation area.

"Look, your trial is in three months. From what I hear its open and closed but your brief might be able to get you sent to a special unit for your own safety. Keep your head down for 12 weeks and for your sake don't mention you are a disgraced police chief and a kiddy-fiddler." the guard told him loudly shoving him into the room.

Lellevoire looked at him in horror. It took him a few seconds to realize the entire room had fallen silent. He turned around slowly as he felt a presence behind. Two huge muscled Matari Brutors stood too close, looking down on him.

"I'm first" said one.

"No way man. You ruin them with that thing you're packing. I'm first while he's still tight."

"Yeah, not many asses can take the Ragnarok!" the hulking man replied laughing and grabbing his crotch.

Lellevoire want to cry.

"I'll go first and give you three packs of smokes." said the one to the left.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Done!"

A muscled armed grabbed Lellevoire by the shoulder in a vice-like grip.

"That ass better be worth four packs you sick nonce pig!"

With that Lellevoire did indeed start to cry as his purchaser led him towards his cell.