Case by Case I: Genesis

The simulated smells of the Godovan palm trees were what greeted Mace first. The short Saleluki detective entered the fourth floor of the Prime Station's Homicide Center three times in the past but only to collect tools he needed for his cases at the time. The place was less busy than other centers most days due to the low amount of murders on Prime Station, giving it an air of clean serenity that betrayed the dark secrets it contained.

Rifu Mace was a Saleluki heralded throughout the security department as the "Golden Boy" of Theft and Burglary, having caught many through his deductive reasoning skills and keen eye for evidence. He served briefly during the Great War as a terrain mapping scout and corpsman for the Allied Special Forces.

His days as a soldier were over, however, and he was home. His day of return greeted him with jeers from anti-war protesters and Coalition sympathizers. People wept for the tyrants and terrorists who burned civilizations to the ground and tried to conquer their own worlds. It was for this very reason that Mace didn't paint himself a "people person" to others. People who took things at face value, who only read the headliners and paid no mind to the details made him sick.

Nevertheless, he quietly accepted his medal and signed on for Prime Security. He graduated quickly from the Academy ahead of his peers and was assigned to department Afrah, located in one of the many central levels of the massive space station floating within the Core.

Now he stood, with his dark grey investigator's coat and a noticeable scruff collecting on his chin, within the halls of homicide. He quickly found his assigned station in Cubicle B-3, sharing the spacious office with a tall, lean Kandarrian sitting in his own desk across from Mace's. Upon seeing him, the Kandarrian huffed out "Fuck... They didn't tell me I was getting the Golden Boy. You're Matt, right?"

"Mace."

The Kandarrian, with his skeptical, beady eyes, and flexing mandibles, gave a gruff "Mm. Name's Graff." before turning back to his console. His hair-like fibers were thin and grey from age and his glossy eyes held a tired look to them, not unlike the ones Mace remembered from the veterans he returned with. Men who had seen too much in their lives and were forever haunted by it.

He asked as his long, thin fingers typed away at a keypad on his desk "So, Golden Boy Mace, what brought you to Homicide, or more specifically, me?"

Mace sat at his own desk and set down his briefcase by it, explaining in his own taciturn way "Worked Burglary. Caught the Jada store Jacker. Long chase. Very thrilling. Promoted soon after. Unsure as to partnership decision."

The words must have flowed out like a raging tide as his new partner quickly held up his hands "Woah woah woah, slow down, slink. Goddamn, you talk fast. I know about the Jada Jacker. What I meant was how the hell did you get promoted after a three-month beat after it took me four years to land my seat?"

Ah. Envy. The foil of progress. Mace gave a light tilt of his head as he answered bluntly "Solved difficult case quickly and efficiently. Vet detectives struggled where I excelled. Saw potential in me."

Graff reclined with a low chuckle, though not one of amusement, Mace deduced. The tall Kandarrian's mandibles flexed as his small maw, lined with sharp canines, spoke out in smooth criticism "I see how you are. A glory hound. You climb a few rungs on the ladder and, suddenly, you're the next Bogarn Hauchman. Well let me tell you something, 'partner', it took me years to reach Homicide. It took me four long, difficult years of seeing depraved shit they wouldn't air in the News channels. Maybe you are good. But I'm the senior detective here, and when out in the field, we play by my rules. Understand?"

Mace was used to such skepticism. Some in the precinct thought that a Saleluki was a perfect addition simply by virtue of his race. "Sal's are smart.", "We got us a Sarai!", "They'll never see you comin', slink." Stereotypes of the tree-dwelling Saleluki were all too common in this regard. The brilliant but shifty agent, the all-seeing mastermind. Mace has seen all manner of Saleluki, from the clever and dumb to the treacherous and loving. Stereotypes were sinful.

And then there were others, the critics who claimed, sometimes justly, that no one man should be able to climb the ladder so quickly. That Mace needed more years behind the Burglary desk to hone his investigatory skills. But the Chief seemed to place a lot of faith in Rifu, and he hoped to deliver.

As if on cue, the official presiding over Homicide, Captain Karad, arrived by their cubicle with an amused look on his reptilian face. The Captain was a Tyranian, a reptiloid with a Dragonic head and a scaly body. His uniform was tailor-made to help with his thick, crocodile-like tail that dragged behind him as he walked. He greeted the two officers coarsely but with warmth "My sons! Welcome to Homicide, Detective Mace. I see you have familiarized yourself with your new partner, Detective Graff. No farther could you find a more diligent and tireless servant of justice, son."

In his hand, the Captain held a steaming paper cup filled with coffee. He gestured with it over to Mace idly "Likewise, Graff, you've been chosen as the fortunate receiver of a rising star in the Security Department's ranks. Mace here single-handedly defied expectations by bringing the Jada Jacker down."

Mace meekly passed the praise off "Many factors aided the capture, Captain. Can't take all credit."

"Nonsense, my boy! Don't be so modest. You're a war hero and a true son of Avras." Faint praise, as Mace wasn't religious. Still, he tried to not let it go to his head. Men like the Captain were prone to airing their lungs to whomever would listen.

Graff asked politely but with the subtle intent, no doubt, to divert the subject away from his new partner's accomplishments "You got something for us, sir?"

The muscled Tyranian in the well-pressed, sapphire suit nodded "Right you are, detective. A murder made at the stroke of Nyne, on level twelve just around the Dovoca quadrant. Ramal and Bein are down there as we speak, fending off the vultures. Get to it, boys. A mother needs retribution."

With this, the two detectives received a light ping on their consoles - a new case with details and, primarily, a location. The captain left while Graff rose from his seat, tapping a few keys on the console to forward the case details to his drifter. "A dead Felisian, pregnant and skinned like an animal. Welcome to your first day, detective."

## One Mother, Three Kids, No Justice

The parking lot of the Security Station was cold to Mace's bare feet. He, nevertheless, walked alongside his new partner with dignity and reserve. The Kandarrian detective stood almost a foot and a half over the shorter Saleluki, whose thin tail tipped with light blue hair swayed behind him. Graff popped a mossy green bit of Grort in his mouth - a chew able substance that wasn't at all good for your health but, for some, helped relieve tension similar to most cigarettes.

As he gnawed on the substance, he pointed out his drifter to Mace "That's the one. The brown Nerzia *Xakata*." Graff's vehicle was very neutral, like the man himself - old but sturdy. It had a few scrapes and dents from previous unsavory encounters.

Mace expected to find empty beer cans and crumpled up snack packaging in the drifter but was surprised to notice it was clean and well-kept, with the leather seats being crisp and tidy. The man seemed to be proud of his car. The roof was elevated due to being manufactured by a Kandarrian Drift company, allowing the tall race - and others - freedom of movement and comfort within the confines of the car.

It made Mace feel even shorter than he really was, as he was barely able to see over the dashboard and out the window. Graff keyed the vehicle to engage and it began to hum to life, lifting off the floor. He advised "You'll forgive me for not letting you drive this thing for a while. It's an old girl but it's done right by me these past few years."

Hesitantly, the Saleluki detective admitted "...I cannot drive."

Before he could back out, Graff stopped and turned to look down at his new partner "...You can't drive?"

"Too fast-paced. Struggle to concentrate on numerous things at once. Driving... difficult. Can't fly either." explained Mace.

Suppressing a laugh, Graff asked "So... you're a Saleluki who graduated from the Academy with honors and all that... a grown ass man... and you can't drive?"

The man was clearly amused by Rifu's admission. This didn't bode well for their future as partners "Just drive, dammit."

Graff let out a hearty chuckle, stating "You're fine, little man. I'll drive us. Just don't expect me to start carrying you around everywhere on my back."

As they pulled out of the lot, Mace noticed the awkward silence and tried to breach it with conversation. Not knowing a better topic, he decided to discuss the Kandarrian's career "How long have you been in the force, Graff?"

"Oh... about... five years now, I think. Maybe more." answered the Kandarrian as he drove the Drifter into the flow of the traffic speeding through the holographic streets of Prime Station. The man seemed to have a skillful knowledge of the area.

Mace asked hesitantly "Serve any during the war?"

Graff hesitated a bit before answering "My father did."

"What division?"

Graff quickly diverted the topic "I don't want to talk about it."

Mace looked back at the window and let out a simple "Sorry."

Graff made note of it but chose to remain silent for the duration of the drive.

The street lights and business signs all seemed so similar to Mace - stale combinations of red, blue, green, and yellow lights. Nothing at all like his homeworld, Saleo, with its' vibrant mixtures and shades of purple, red, and green...

Mace remembered his homeworld as one that was lush with a variety of life. Prime Station always felt so cold and lifeless, where the denizens were usually only out for themselves and would've stabbed one in the back if it could save themselves.

Before long, the two pulled into the crime scene where reporters were trying to get statements out of the security personnel on site. Mace supposed it wasn't every day on Prime Station a woman was skinned and left in an alleyway. He and Graff exited the vehicles and found themselves swarmed by reporters, asking such things as "Detectives, any idea who the perpetrator might be?", "Has the Genesis Killer struck again?", and "Is it true the woman was pregnant?"

Graff waved them away "Alright, you got your images, now scram! Beat it!" When subtlety clearly didn't work, he bellowed with a deep roar "Get out of here! Go you vultures!" The myriad of reporters quickly scattered, heading to their respective Drifters to report back to their superiors.

Mace commended as Graff huffed angrily "Nicely done. But... the 'Genesis Killer'?"

Graff shook his head "A sick fuck who has carved up two preggos so far. One Terran, one Linvalian. Both skinned."

The coroner, a pasty-white Shadalian with thin, grey hair and sunken, dark grey eyes, greeted the duo as they approached "Detectives."

Graff gave an impatient gruff, clearly not fond of the coroner in question. Mace, instead, offered a hand to shake the other man's. Noticing he was wearing bloody gloves, he retracted his hand awkwardly "Detectives Mace and Graff. Homicide."

The Shadalian nodded "Dr. Mirkel. The body is further on down the alleyway, gentlemen." The coroner was a thin, quiet man dressed in an all-black suit. He had a subtle odor of death about him.

As they approached the body, Graff covered his face with the back of his hand, groaning "Oh sweet Kimira..."

What once was a Felisian woman, heavy with cubs in her belly, now was a gutted body - skinned and carved open like a roast. Her stomach had been sliced open, the kits nowhere to be found and a bloody trail lead to a nearby dumpster. The woman's eyelids had been removed, leaving her with a glassy but horrified stare. Her muscles and tendons showed where, once, there was skin and fur. She was sprawled out on the ground with her arms draped across her torso in an 'X' formation.

Dr. Mirkel explained "The body was ritualistically placed here. Stab wounds through the hands and feet imply that she was nailed to some sort of surface at one point or another. Her body has been skinned and, for the most part, drained of blood. No sign of the kits. A large, eight-inch hunting knife was placed in the dumpster nearby with an obvious blood trail between it and the body."

Placing a pair of latex gloves on his own hands, Mace went to work, scanning the whole of the alleyway before moving on to the body. He noticed that, while the skinning was clean and professional, the carving of the pregnant stomach was more... violent. Messy. It had little sign of surgical technique or training. He noted this to his partner "Woman's stomach carved unprofessionally, unlike the skin. Perhaps some sort of... personal motive?"

"How the hell do you know it was professionally done, Mace?" asked Graff.

"Clean cuts, bone and muscle tissue avoided reckless scarring, and compared to messy work on stomach, is otherwise clean. Blood drained as if hunting game." explained Mace.

The coroner nodded "It's true. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."

While Mace examined the body, Graff walked over to the dumpster and investigated the weapon found within - a large hunting knife covered in the woman's blood, just as the coroner had said. "Found the knife. Bioanalysis can place it on the girl and give us a name." He carefully placed the knife in a large, sturdy evidence bag.

Mace, meanwhile, shook his head "Don't understand... why risk leaving the weapon here? And a blood trail? Did he want us to find it?"

Graff walked over as more security personnel pulled in "You never know with these types, Mace. Perhaps he was getting his jollies in when someone spotted him and he needed a quick dump spot? Maybe he's just brain shot? Who knows?"

Mace stared down at the woman momentarily, as if she were revealing something to him, before turning away. "We have what we need to make an I.D. Thank you for the help, coroner."

The Shadalian nodded nervously "Actually, I am the coroner's assistant... Dr. Gelbrough wasn't feeling well today so I am filling in-"

Graff waved him off "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah... look, if you find anything else out, let us know, alright? Come on, Mace."

*To be continued...*