Tunnels 05 - Spiral

they waited in a single line, their wide, staring eyes to the front.
    There didn’t seem to be a Styx in attendance, but in the distance the Second Officer could see the Garrison building within the Styx compound. From the windows of the squat building came tiny sparks of purple-tinged light, like faraway stars glinting in an unknown constellation. The Second Officer shook his head — he’d never seen Dark Lights used on this scale before.
    A little while later he passed through the short access tunnel that led into the North Cavern. The cluster of huts was visible in the distance, ringed by a number of luminescent orbs on stands set up around the perimeter of the shantytown. The North Cavern was an agricultural area where much of the Colony’s produce was grown and, up until recently, the least densely populated of all its caverns. As he came nearer, he saw that even more of these basic dwellings had been built, taking the total number to at least several hundred. But despite the size of the new town, there were very few Colonists out in the open.
    The Second Officer had that sixth sense that those in police enforcement develop. If there had been any trouble, it was all over now. A crushed, thick silence hung over the place. As he continued down the track, in a clearing between the hotchpotch accretion of huts, he spotted the Third Officer slumped on the ground. He was holding his head.
    “You all right?” the Second Officer said as he immediately strode over to him.
    “Took a couple of punches,” the Third Officer replied shakily. “Nothing serious.”
    As the man raised his head, the Second Officer noticed the blood on his face. “Who did this to you?” he asked.
    The Third Officer pointed at the area beside one of the huts. “They did,” he said.
    Spotting the corpses, the Second Officer unclipped the police lantern from his belt and went to investigate.
    There were three of them, sprawled among rotting penny bun mushrooms that had been trampled into a gray mush. Not far from the bodies, a collapsible table lay on its side, cards scattered in the mud. “Cresswell,” the Second Officer said under his breath as he rolled the nearest corpse onto its back. “The blacksmith. He’s been shot in the neck.”
    The Third Officer mumbled something. Despite the fact that he was injured, the Second Officer ignored him. He had no time for the man — the Third Officer was a dullard, not at all suited to the job of policeman. An uncle on the Board of Governors had propelled him up the ranks, and for that he was universally disliked by his fellow officers.
    The Second Officer was the first to admit that he wasn’t the brightest orb in the Colony, but he had what his sister called “Earth Smarts” — he was streetwise and shrewd enough to get by. And he’d been promoted to his current rank based on his determination and years of sheer hard graft.
    The Third Officer was mumbling again.
    “Shush a minute,” the Second Officer silenced him, moving on to the next corpse. “Grayson . . . a stonemason,” he said. As he rolled the body over to inspect the gunshot wound in it, the ace of hearts slid from where it had been concealed in the man’s sleeve.
    Clutching his forehead, the Third Officer had staggered to his feet and was pointing at the last of the bodies. “And Cresswell’s cousin, Walsh,” he said.
    “Yes, so I see. Another precise shot to the neck,” the Second Officer observed. It was indeed Heraldo Walsh, a heavily muscled, squat man with a distinctive red scarf tied around his neck. The Second Officer scratched his chin as he pieced the scene together. “So Cresswell and Grayson were playing cards . . . gambling with these packs of tobacco as the stakes,” he said, inclining his head at the foil packets lying among the scattered cards. “They argued, probably because Grayson was trying to bamboozle him, then Walsh came to his cousin’s aid.”
    “When I stepped in to break up the fight, all three started on me instead,” the Third Officer said. “And a mob had formed — I thought they were going to lynch me.”
    The Second Officer blew through his lips. “These days people have no respect for the law,” he said, knowing there was a single and rather crucial piece of the puzzle still missing. He thought he knew the answer, but he had to ask the question. “And who fired the sh —?” He clammed up immediately as he became aware of the Limiter. The soldier had materialized behind