Murder on a Space Station: Robot Detective series, #1

By Marjorie King

The Detective (a robot) normally didn't like working with human detectives. They called them botsitters.

Then came Detective LaKisha Gaines. She knew how to get inside The Detective's head. She even gave them a new name, Robbie (you know, for robot). Robbie couldn't get this assignment over fast enough.

Then, they started getting attached to Detective Gaines. Maybe they could work with her in the future.

An exciting start to a brand new series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marjorie King
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218297244

Marjorie King

Marjorie King is a Chemical Engineer turned full-time Mom turned Science Fiction Author. Her personality is Hermione Granger meets Amy Farrah Fowler. She also feels awkward typing this bio in third person. (I think I’ll switch to first-person now, if that’s OK with you.) Other readers are thinking about buying this book, but they won’t. Why not? Because there aren’t enough reviews. People don’t buy a product, especially a book, if it doesn’t have loads of good reviews. So who can help me sell my books? You can. Please leave an honest review of my book on your favorite distributor or Goodreads. When you do, you’re making a huge difference in the life of this author. Thank you so much.

Book preview

Marjorie King

Murder on a Space Station

Book One of the Robot Detective Series

First published by Starscape Media, LLC 2023

Copyright © 2023 by Marjorie King

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

1. Murder

2. Detective

3. Shuttle

4. Space Station

5. The Landing Dock

6. The Scene

7. Best Sliders

8. Meihui

9. Warehouse

10. Croft Lackey

11. Station Bank

12. Sister

13. Foriends

14. New Lead

15. Suspect

16. Interrogation Room

17. Robot Detectives

18. A New Case

Free Prequel

About the Author

Also by Marjorie King

1

Murder

Leon, a common space trucker, pushed his crates, hovering several centimeters off the ground, forward. He was white with packed muscles, tattoos running the length of his arms, and a bald head. Like all space truckers, Leon wore a cheap shirt and rugged denim jeans. He was delegated to the landing docks of the space station with the other space truckers.

The station’s center held the engine room with engineers, mechanics, and mechbots attending to its care. Six arms shot out from the center hub of the station like spokes on a wheel. Those arms housed the marketplace with shops, restaurants, and hotels. Tunnels connected to the spokes, allowing passage between the arms. On a fat bulb on the end of each arm sat the landing docks. That was where transports dropped off and picked up goods. The lowest of society worked here.

Leon walked down the center aisle of the landing docks, packed with cussing space truckers, whizzing mechbots, and yelling captains. Weaving his way through all of this chaos with a small hill of crates in front of him was a talent in and of itself. Finally, he arrived at the warehouse at the back of the landing docks.

Meihui stood guard at the entrance. She was thin and lean with two well-maintained plasma pistols on each hip. Her sleek black hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Meihui was of Asian descent, but rumor had it she was born in the New York city dome. But she was raised traveling the different space stations with her father.

No one messed with Meihui. And the few who were stupid enough to try regretted it. Some had even disappeared. Because of her ruthless talent, she was a very popular private security guard to hire among the independent spaceship captains. The corporations had their own security, of course.

If Meihui was here, then Sid, the warehouse manager, was probably on break. Leon pushed his crates into the warehouse. It was small compared to the landing dock, but it still had room to fit mountains and mountains of crates. Boxes were stacked almost to the ceiling, waiting their turn to be shipped to one of the massive orbiting warehouses. With space limited planetside, warehouses in orbit were the best option.

Hey, Leon! Randall came in behind Leon, pushing crates of his own.

Long and lanky with an eye for the ladies. Randall stood taller than Leon, with enough muscle to be labeled fit. Leon rolled his eyes. He hated that guy. He had perfect flowing brunette hair and thick lips that smiled in a flirty kind of way. Randall was the most charming scammer to travel the stars. Asshole. Still, they were brothers in space, so Leon slowed down.

Space truckers were the bottom of the barrel on these landing docks. Captains would hire a crew, ship the goods, then fire them after the job was done. Leon and his kind were constantly hunting for that next job. As such, they had to stick together, even if some of them were complete jerks.

Randall pushed his crates a little faster to catch up.

So, who’ve you screwed lately? Leon asked.

Randall smirked. Well, there was this pretty redhead—

Wait, Leon said, inhaling deeply. You smell that?

What?

But Leon knew exactly what that was. He could recognize the stench of skin seared by plasma gunfire anywhere. Someone’s been shot.

Randall inhaled. Oh, now I smell it.

They exchanged looks.

Sid! they said at the same time.

They left their goods and began running through the warehouse, around the maze of crates, mountains stacked to the ceiling. Finally, they’d run around it all. Out of breath, they met at the back of the warehouse.

I didn’t find anything, Randall said.

Me either, Leon said.

Then Leon smelled next to the back door. Wait.

The back door slid open, and the alarm sounded. There lay the body of some poor idiot who’d crossed the wrong person. His body was tucked behind some crates, chest and hands shot. He was white and wore the uniform of the bank for the space station. His brunette hair was a mess, probably from being dragged behind the crates, and his eyes stared up, no longer seeing anything. Meihui came running around the crates at the sound of the alarm. She took in the scene.

Well, shit, she said. There goes my reputation.

What’s going on? Sid called from the warehouse entrance.

We’ve got a problem, Meihui yelled back.

Leon and Randall exchanged looks. We’re not sticking around for the station cops. You understand.

Yeah, Meihui said, I do. Go on.

They both ran out as fast as they could. Sid would know what to do with their crates. And Leon didn’t envy Sid’s meeting with the cops. Those guys were jerks to space truckers.

2

Detective

Detective became aware as it was powered up.

So, the humans needed it to solve a case. They only booted the android up when they hit a wall, but that was fine with Detective. It didn’t want to waste time with the boring, obvious murders.

First came the systems check. Detective scanned the recommended and supposedly urgent upgrades for the function of its parts. Those it put on back burner, to run while it caught up on the case. That was all that mattered. The case.

A human had been murdered on a space station. Okay, that was interesting, but why did they need Detective for it? Oh, the human was murdered on the landing dock. Now that was better.

The landing docks of the space stations didn’t have working cameras like everywhere else. And by everywhere else, Detective meant literally everywhere else. Every corner and crevice of the protected domes planetside and each and every space station was recorded. Technically, there were blind spots where murderers could hide. That’s how they still got away with murder.

But the landing docks on the outskirts of the space stations were a different story, weren’t they? The space truckers were notorious for shooting down working cameras within seconds of their installation. It was a kind of game for them. That, and no one cared if a few space truckers died now and then in their all too common shootouts over territory or because of plain drunkenness.

So, the case that humans needed help with involved an important person murdered where they didn’t have cameras to conveniently solve their case for them. Nice.

Detective powered up its eyes, or more accurately, its scanners. Technically it had scanners where human eyes were normally located, but why limit itself to just that? Detective also had scanners on the back of its head.

A police station came into focus, complete with tightly packed desks in an open floor plan. Shared desks filled the space with holodocuments floating above them. Beat cops and a few detectives filled out paperwork, gossiped at the coffee machine, and entered and exited the interview rooms with witnesses.

The robot was stored in a closet off the side of the office. The familiar personnel flinched at Detective’s activation. As Detective’s head turned, it received more than a few glares.

Hello, Captain Bridget Thibodeaux.

Detective was careful to give the correct French pronunciation, Ti-bu-doh.

Hello, Detective, she answered back.

Captain Thibodeaux was head of the Second District of New Orleans city dome of the planet New Terra. She wore her salt and pepper hair back in a strict bun, her skirt suit pressed, and her lips pinched. If she’d been a librarian, she could have silenced an unruly child with a raised eyebrow.

Thibodeaux was also the keeper of Detective. She determined if a case required its assistance and expertise. She managed the cost of maintenance and protected Detective from those who wanted it scrapped. Those people were mostly other employees Detective had humiliated by solving their cases.

There were quite a few of those people. Speaking of which, Detective took in the human next to Thibodeaux. So, this is my new botsitter.

This human female had burnt umber skin, a crumpled suit, and corkscrew curls that frizzed at the ends. The high humidity inside the New Orleans dome tended to do that to all but the straightest hair.

Botsitter? the new human asked Thibodeaux.

Detective requires a human accompanying it to access the areas needed for its investigation, Thibodeaux explained. So, it refers to the human as a botsitter.

The new human chuckled. Well, you warned me he was rude.

According to Detective’s files, she was Detective LaKisha Gaines. Her district was wrong, though.

Detective faced Thibodeaux. This human doesn’t work for your department.

None of my detectives wanted to work with you, she said, and her pinched lips almost twitched into a smile. Besides, this case technically falls into the First District and her department.

Detective turned to Gaines. And don’t call me ‘he.’ I’m not a male.

She? Gaines asked.

Absolutely not.

Then I’ll use ‘they,’ Gaines said. Because I’m not calling you ‘it.’ You are a sentient being and deserve a proper pronoun.

As much as I enjoy discussing the finer points of the failings of the English language, Detective said as they pivoted and started walking toward the lift, shall we start working the case instead?

Of course. Gaines grabbed the handle of her luggage and fell in beside Detective without missing a beat. "But do androids actually enjoy things?"

Detective turned its head—no, their head—to face Gaines.

Huh, I do prefer being called they instead of it. Do I fascinate you? Detective asked. A new complicated toy?

Gaines cut her eyes at the robot as she walked beside them. I’ve never met a robot that’s mastered sarcasm and cynicism like you. But no, I don’t think you’re a toy. She faced forward again. I just like getting to know people … or sentient beings, in your case.

Unusual answer. There had been many highly probable answers to the question, most of which involved stuttering or getting offended. But this human had responded with something with under a one percent probability. She took