8
GALPOL Special Agent Ryan Miller decelerated his corsair and coasted toward the airlock of the Quasar Lake Marina.
The marina, a t-shaped dock with a curved roof, floated in space like an ocean marina. Small corsairs flew around it, and Miller had to readjust his course several times to avoid reckless drivers.
He checked the clock on his dashboard.
Saturday night.
Lot of people out.
He wouldn't have minded being in civilian clothes, himself, maybe barbecuing in his backyard or nursing a beer in the shadowed nook of the nearest townie bar.
But this case was going to ensure he wasn't going home for a long time.
He still couldn't believe what he was investigating.
Another GALPOL agent.
Murder.
A murder weapon with her fingerprints all over it.
Slam dunk.
He steered for the airl
