The Interstellar Murder Hobo

First Trooper Lundrin Morrissey; Constabulary Grid 7H6 of Earth’s Solar Militia ,woke drowsily from what felt like a thick fog tinged green with a mild sense of nausea. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but understood the night was over; and his hangover was coming, slowly creeping into his body from a distance.

 Hmmm, what did I do last night? I remember the girl Adrian sent… and drinking, so much drinking…

He didn’t feel much concern over his lack of memory; it wasn’t his first black-out. Some memories always returned, and there was the footage to look forward to.

He furrowed his brow as slowly growing behind his eyes, expanding over the top of his head, a headache made its presence known. It grew rapidly into a solid thump, forcing a hot gush of saliva flood his mouth; literally blushing his face with heat at the same time. Unable to control his own body, he rocked upwards to vomit, only to find himself restrained by the wrists above his head. With a viscous blub, the vomit tried to project, only to flop back into his mouth, down his chin, neck and chest. This just induced another almighty heave, this time sensibly spilling it to his right. It pooled against his cheek. He slowly turned his face to the left in a lethargic bid to find reprieve.

He took a moment to catch his breath and tried to open his eyes. The room was pitch-black, and he questioned whether he had opened them at all.

What did I let myself get into last night? He tried moving his legs, and found them restrained as well. Ugh, enough of this.

“Hello!” He croaked; his throat dry. The vomit had settled in the wells of his body weight, coating the back of his neck, sticking viscously to his right cheek and chin. He was getting annoyed that the girl had left him like this. He thrashed his whole body in a vain attempt to break out with brute force, to no avail. He just soiled himself even further.

Just as he cleared his throat to shout, a stark light flashed on, and a steady, mature female voice spoke, “Oh for Fuck Sake.” It held no emotion. “I guess we’ll need to clean this up before we begin. You drank too much; my dosage off.”

Lundrin tried to get a look at her; squinting his eyes against the light, exacerbating his headache. She was small, no taller than 5ft, and very slight; definitely not the girl Adrian sent. He didn’t recognize her at all, but only really cared to consider his odds. I have the advantage, I just need to wait.

“I am going to give you a paralytic I designed whilst doing a job on Io’s Gravitech-Station, it works almost instantly, clears you up, suppresses your emotions and has no nasty side-effects. It requires a continuous dose though, so I’ll add it to an IV, I’ll restore some electrolytes while we’re at it.” He tried in vain to discern a tone in her voice.

“What do you mean by paralytic?” His senses were returning to him, but only just. “Did we, you know, fuck, or something? I am digging the bondage vibe and the aftercare, but I would like to be untied now.”

“Oh that’s not a very good idea. At least not till you’re fully paralyzed.” The matter-of-fact tone sent a slight shiver down his spine. “And no, we didn’t, you know, fuck, or anything.” The mimicry of his voice we perfect for tone and inflection. “I need to clean you up, and to do that I need to untie you. To do that I would feel better if you weren’t able to move. I trust my logic is clear?”

Lundrin considered his cool head under pressure a source of personal pride, which is why when panic started to tighten his chest, he was totally unprepared. His body froze as she stepped closer with a needle and IV bag in hand. He had no clue where they came from, it was like they had just materialized. He blinked to clear his vision a bit more, and watched as she deftly penetrated a vein on the back of his right hand with a needle, just as matter-of-factly as her words dug into his heart. She pinned the tube to his wrist with a programmable medi-strap and hung the bag on a hook on the wall.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, craning his head to take a look at his surroundings. It was a stark white room, with a titanium water-cylinder, a sonic-hygiene basin and workstation to his right. The roof was made entirely of large rectangular light panels, and there was an assortment of hooks on the wall. There were no other items in the room.

She didn’t answer his question. “Both the paralytic and IV will take effect soon, then we can begin.”

“What’s the rush?” He asked.

She smiled softly, locking eyes with him. “We’re on a schedule.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Oh... about 3 hours, maybe a bit longer.” Lundrin noticed the first hint of emotion…excitement? “Just long enough for me to drug you and get you here. I must commend you on your choice of location; Ganymede really has very little law enforcement.”  

“Where’s Adrian? I don’t find this funny anymore.”

“Adrian’s busy; and you are right to not be amused.” She chuckled, it was soft and deep. “Did you know I walked out of that bar with your body draped over my shoulder? I just got into my shuttle and no one said a word. We are on the far side of Ganymede right now, in an uncharted crater. If you wanted to scream, no one would hear you.”

Lundrin was not ready to accept to accept what he was being told. “I call bullshit on that!” he even managed a laugh, “There is no way you could have carried me out. Look at you!” He gestured at her with his eyes only; the paralytic really did work fast.

She just smiled. “You are understandably confused; I suppose I could clarify by getting to the point.” She closed her eyes as if she genuinely considering how to continue. As she opened them, she looked him right in his eyes. “I understand all of Earth’s Troopers are educated on The Interstellar Murder Hobo?”

“Ye-es.” He didn’t just know, he was obsessed.

“What do you know?” She asked. “Detailed but concise please.”

Like reporting to a superior officer, the information spilled from Lundrin, he felt almost eager.

“The IMH is generally considered to be a multi-generational Serial-Killing-Syndicate that has been in operation for over 300 years. It was founded by a Ve’Hestian smuggler from the Sweep-System, named Kovai Nistrohl, who hasn’t been publicly sighted in over 370 years. The MO and appearance of the killer has never changed in all that time, and we know that Nistrohl was a questionable character. We suspect cloning. Considering the average Ve’Hestian lives about 175 years, we think the torch has probably been passed 3 or 4 times.”

Lundrin paused, and considered whether he should be feeling a little more frightened; there was certainly some anxiety, but it felt distant. He couldn’t help but admit that she really had designed quite an effective little paralytic. The irony that his face remained unaffected, whilst the rest of him both physically and emotionally felt numb to all around him, hadn’t escaped his notice.

“Please continue.” She instructed. Lundrin didn’t know when he had surrendered the intimacy of eye contact; he simply found staring at a ceiling of lights more comfortable. She was on his right, calmly adjusting the bed holding him prone to a 45° angle.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “Thus far, we’ve confirmed 715 kills over 67 separate Planetary-Systems, right across the Milkyway Galaxy. It is the only criminal case that has ever experienced galactic collaboration from all 89 Systems’ recognized Law Enforcement agencies. The most astonishing fact is, other than the footage, we have literally no other clues or evidence to build a case with.”

“Is that all?” She asked quietly. He looked at her through the corners of his eyes; she was over by the water cylinder, attaching a long hose and shower nozzle to a valve on the side.

“Well, there’s a theory that all serial killers want to be caught. But the IMH has proven to be the exception. As I said; 0 sightings. There’s never been a more successful criminal syndicate. And their motive… ugh, vengeance! Is there anything pettier?”

“There are several things actually, but continue.” He chanced another look; she was adjusting something out of sight on top of the cylinder, the hose hung down the back of her left shoulder. 

“They find people they consider victims whom have been denied justice via official means; and take revenge on their behalf. Completely. No one is left to continue the cycle of vengeance.” He expelled a sigh that sounded almost like a sob.

“This will be cold.” She said and turned on the hose without giving him a moment to protest. The water was indeed cold and he gasped audibly. The pressure was decent for a cylinder setup; of course he could only feel that as she blasted him right in the face. Looking down, he could see a clotted foamy spiral at the bottom as water and vomit drained away to who knows where. She made sure to get as much off of him as possible, even scrubbing his face with a rough cloth.

The cold shock was the final catalyst in restoring his clarity. As she shut the valve on the cylinder, the room suddenly became very familiar. He’d just never imagined it from a victim’s point of view before. The water cylinder, 5ft tall should have been the first clue. But the wide, rigged medical bed.  The stark white walls and various fixtures… This was the IMH’s killing room.

“Fuck” He said it with soft resignation, closing his eyes. “Alexi?” He asked, forcing himself to look at her.

She simply smiled. “I suppose it’s time things got interesting?” She tilted her head, not breaking eye contact, and changed into a 9ft Ardissiyan right in front of his eyes. Sporting a full complement of tusks, 4 arms and thick, motley-brown, leathery skin. With 2 enormous hands she grabbed him by the chest, and with another she deftly undid the restraints that held his writs. He couldn’t feel them; he simply observed their lifeless flap in his periphery. Careful not to disturb the IV and needle, she gently rested him forward, cradling him in 2 of her 4 hands; hanging as though over a horse’s rump with his face facing towards the metal floor, he noticed rivets.

With a free hand, she flipped the valve back on and he felt the cold water blasting the back of his head; she made sure to get every last scrap of mucous, alcohol and tiny chunks of stomach lining from his hair. He heard the tell-tale pattering of water blasting plastic as she cleaned the bed. Once done, she pinned him back against it, and quickly lowered him into a horizontal position. She morphed back into her previous form. She wasn’t young; but he couldn’t fathom any sort of age in her either. She was certainly beautiful.

She proceeded to gently tie his wrists back up above his head. It took the lock clunking loudly into place that brought him back to his senses just enough to ask. “What are you?”

“I am glad you asked.” She wasn’t looking at him, preoccupied with returning the cylinder and hose to their original places. “I am a changeling.”

“Impossible!” He scoffed.

“Possible!” She challenged. “What did you just see?” As she spoke, she had moved over to the sonic-hygiene basin, and was fervently cleaning her arms and hands.

“The Changelings from the Alpha Centauri System were all exterminated nearly 400 hundred years ago. It was the only-mass sanctioned genocide, with a full vote from 89 out of 90 Planetary-Systems.”

“A vote held without our system. Within which we lived peacefully among 3 other sentient, space-faring species. Most of them died with us, did you know? Only the fractions off planet were spared. They are still trying to rebuild.”

“Except for the Changelings, who were all confirmed as being on-planet within the Alpha Centauri System at the time? How did you survive?”

“I had been abducted by Ve’Hestian smuggler from the Sweep-System prior to your destruction of our System. I must have been given up for dead when I didn’t return during the Summons.” She closed her eyes briefly with a pause; then continued. “I certainly felt the yearning to return; it was incredibly painful. To be called home on such an… Instinctive level. To then be unable to return due to my unlawful confinement.” She took another pause, but made firm eye contact, compelling him to remain silent.

“It nearly killed me… and it should have. With the destruction of my home-world, the Cosmic-Link compelling us to return each Centauri-Century; was severed. As such, I survived.”

“Is that why you kill? It’s just personal vengeance all along?” He felt comfort in the scorn he was able to insert in his tone.

She laughed softly. “No, it’s not even why I started killing. That honour rests with the smuggler who repeatedly raped me every night for 12 years, which was how long it took me to build immunity to his variety of custom sedatives by the way. He was guilty of other crimes, but I digress. I slowly tortured him to death, probably 9 years after being severed from the Link. “

“Why do you kill then?” He asked as she removed the medi-strap and IV with ease, stowing it out of sight.

“The effects of the paralytic will wear off quickly.” She continued without a pause. “I kill because 5 years after I escaped my confinement, I found someone else denied justice, someone too pure and injured to take vengeance for themselves. I cared for him very much. That was over 367 years ago.”

“The Ve’Hestian smuggler, you use his face for all your killings, don’t you?” The fear welling in his chest felt like an ocean tide. “There’s no syndicate, either… it’s just been you all along?”

“I do, and yes.” She permitted a small pause to let that sink in, then; “I think it’s time we got on with it” She walked over to the back wall and pressed gently against it, a small, previously imperceptible cabinet opened up; inside was a camera link-up, a large red sledgehammer, and an assortment of torturing tools. She morphed into the Ve’Hestian smuggler, now standing 6ft tall, she pressed a small button on the side of the camera to start recording, sending the footage out to the whole System, live.

“Do you understand why you are here?” The smuggler’s voice was deep, smooth and seductive.

He knew, and he saw now further point in wasting time; he was resigning himself to his fate. He knew his options… and opted for complete honesty. “I shouldn’t have won my case today.”

“Correct.” She affirmed. “And do you recognise this?” She held up a small rectangular drive, fitted with an illegal isolation-port so the data contained cannot be detected, even when plugged into one of Earth’s collection servers, which was basically all of them. Lundrin recognised it on an almost intimate level; seeing it in her hands was like a violation. “It’s my diary.” He replied looking straight ahead of him. “I suppose you want the encryption key?”

“No, I’m good. I just wanted you and every single one of your accomplices to know I had this. You’ve all been very busy, with quite a variety of things.”

The paralytic had worn off completely and Lundrin was very much aware of his body. The pain, discomfort, fear and anxiety enveloped him like a landslide. He couldn’t stop the tears singing his eyes, nor the sobbing noises of hyperventilation as panic consumed him.

With a mighty Crack! Fire exploded across his left cheek; she had hit him hard.

“First Trooper Lundrin Morrissey; Constabulary Grid 7H6 of Earth’s Solar Militia, you have 2 choices:” She never once looked at the camera; her focus was on him and the task ahead.

She continued “You can confess, and I’ll make it quick. Or you can deny your crimes, and face torture. First Trooper Morrissey, what do you choose?”

“M-my case.” He stuttered. “Rutgar V Morrissey; I am guilty of the crime he accused me of.”

“He confesses!” He could hear the smile in her voice.” What crime was that? What was it that 14 year old Alexi Rutgar accused you of?”

“I responded to a report of domestic abuse and neglect from a concerned neighbor. When I arrived on scene, Alexi had already been alone for 3 days, with neither food and nor money. His father was dead, and his mother appeared to have run off with another lover.” He swallowed, not wanting to continue.

“You know how this works… speak, or I will make you.”

“I raped him, okay!” He blurted out. “And then we covered it up, like we always do.”

“Correct.” She said.

Lundrin knew what was coming and started hyperventilating again. He didn’t have to look.

“Lundrin Morrissey; by your own account,” She said, holding the drive aloft, “you have raped or somehow sexually assaulted over 37 people; 28 of them minors, the youngest of which was only 6. You will be the first of many, and you will watch it coming”

Lundrin knew not to close his eyes, for fear of having his eyelids torn off.

The very last thing he saw, before it all went dark, was the rapidly descending head of an enormous red sledgehammer as it slammed into his face.