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Chapter 1 The dimming sunlight pushed through the smog filled sky. The feeble rays diffused when they struck the smudged windows of the small dingy tavern. A florescent light fastened over a scarred pool table in the far right corner, buzzed loudly while it flickered rapidly on and off. The dull wood of the warped cues stored in a weathered rack mounted on the far eastern wall reflected the red light in the sickly light. The air reeked of stale beer, and cigarettes. The walls and ceiling had a dull yellow tint from being bombarded with acrid smoke over the years. On the far end of the bar, perched upon a scarred stool, Mercedes Deville lifted a toast to her reflection staring back from the grimy mirror behind the bar. Her fiery red hair had developed a streak of white in the front locks. She smiled, remembering how Morgan had remarked once that the discoloration gave her an air of distinction, almost making her appear respectable. She looked around the dive. The customers were the ones you would expect in such an establishment. One man rubbed his running nose with the Bishops Conspiracy 2 sleeve of his shirt. The filthy stained garment and smudged face both looked like they had not seen soap in years. She noticed his nose was bleeding slightly. A sniffer, she surmised from her years of training and the man’s dilated pupils. One woman with sagging, aged breasts was trying to pick up a scraggily bearded fellow sitting at the other end of the bar. From the skimpy outfit she had somehow managed to squeeze her flabby body into Mercedes guessed she was a hooker. Would that be her in a few years? God she was depressed. She drained the glass and slammed it down on the counter. Morgan was the clever one. She always had a plan and knew what to do. Too bad Merc had chosen not to listen to her advice about the Trageli case. Then, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess. Morgan had come up with a plan to keep them out of trouble. Too bad it all fell apart. All thanks to her idiotic temper. “Hit me Mom,” she shook her head. She replayed the events in her head once again like she had down since she had sat down. How could she be so stupid? Though, like she had explained to Morgan, what else could they do? In all the years she and her partner Bishop’s Conspiracy 3 Morgan Starr, had spent, as enforcers with the Intergalactic Trading Commission, neither one of them had looked the other way, or taken a bribe. Too bad the same couldn’t be said about their peers. “Mom, where the hell are you? I need another drink.” “Keep your shirt on Merc,” a loud female baritone shouted back in a loud booming voice. “I’ll be there in a few.” “Well hurry up, “I’m starting to sober up.” A large blue haired woman with an excessive amount of make up lumbered out from behind the faded green curtain that led to the backroom. Rumor had it the woman, Mother Shome, had been a hooker till her runner died and she took over the business. Now thanks to a shrewd sense of business and a few underground contacts, she owned this tavern in the middle of Sludgetown. “Sorry honey,” Mother Shome placed Mercedes cred stick down on the bar. “According to the credcheck your account is dry.” “Then ring up Morgan’s.” Bishop’s Conspiracy 4 “You know I can’t do that. I run a legit business here, and Morgan hasn’t given you permission to use her stick. Besides, I hear she is pissed at you right now.” Mercedes dropped her head on the stained bar. Of course, Morgan was pissed. She had just cost them their investigation license. Mercedes had stormed out of the office, after what Morgan would call a heated debate. At least in her current condition, she couldn’t follow after her and continue nagging, even though the blasted bitch was right. It was Merc’s fault. “Give the lady one, compliments of the Xeon Police Department.” She heard a man behind her laugh. “I imagine she could use a drink right now. Mercedes turned around and glared at the short, squat man behind her dressed in the cheap suit, and smelling of cheaper cigars, she knew to be Inspector Garrett. He always reminded Merc of an evil dwarf from a fantasy story. Looming behind him was a tall man bulging with muscles, with a bullet-shaped head dressed in the black uniform of the Xeon police. The Bishop’s Conspiracy 5 uniform stretched over his muscular form looked as if it had been painted on. Mercedes guessed the man was a tank, bread more for brawn than brains. The perfect bodyguard for a slug like Garrett. Mother Shome was about to fill the glass, when Mercedes covered the top with her hand. “I am particular about who buys me drinks.” “Now don’t be like that. I warned you what would happen if you stuck your nose into something that doesn’t concern you.” “If we hadn’t, that poor girl would have been in the chop shop,” Mercedes retorted. “From the way you handled things I would almost suspect you were taking a bribe from that butcher.” “Those are serious accusations. If you were still an Enforcer, instead of just a low rent private investigator, I might be concerned. Wait,” He laughed. “You aren’t even that, now that you’ve had your permit pulled.” Mercedes gripped the edge of the bar. She could feel her nails digging into the simulated wood grain finish. She had to keep calm. “I would have thought that freak partner of yours would have talked you out of such a bonehead maneuver.” Bishop’s Conspiracy 6 Mercedes felt her temper rising, like lava pressuring deep inside a volcano that was about to erupt. She leaped off the stool, taking a swing at Garret’s smug face. Before her knuckles could connect, a large hand interceded. Merc cried out in pain when she smacked against the hand. It felt like she had collided with a brick wall. Next, the large man grabbed her by the throat and lifted Mercedes up in the air while he began to crush her windpipe. “You really should control your temper. Morgan has more sense. Though I hear she doesn’t get out much, now that she has a body that looks like it was salvaged from a junkyard.” Garret retorted. “You’re a real big man,” Mercedes gasped. “Why don’t you send this hairless gorilla out for some bananas, and we’ll settle this here and now.” “I heard that the Doc even offered to replace some of the missing parts on your partner, if you two would just back off and you both refused,” he continued, ignoring her taunt. “You know quite a lot for someone who wasn’t involved.” Merc struggled in vain against the iron grip of the large bullet-headed man. Bishop’s Conspiracy 7 “You two are an inspiration to law enforcement everywhere,” he said, lighting one of his cut-rate cigars. “Yes, I can see how impressed you are.” Garrett motioned for the man to release her. Mercedes dropped to the filthy floor gasping for air. “Understand this,” Garrett said in a low voice. He blew the thick gray smoke of the stogie into her face. “You don’t even have a P.I. permit to hide behind now. Your ass is mine.” “In your dreams, and my nightmares,” Mercedes snarled between gasps for breath. “I’d take that ass of your partner too, but I hear she doesn’t have much of one left.” “You bastard.” She instinctively reached for the empty holster where her gun had once been. They had taken it when they pulled her permit. “I guess that shows what you get for being so damned honest. Like I said, an inspiration to us all.” Garrett continued to laugh at his own joke while he walked out of the bar with his oversized lap dog obediently following behind. Bishop’s Conspiracy 8 “What an ass,” Mother Shome glared at the exiting detective. Merc slowly clawed herself back up on the stool, still rubbing her sore neck. “Here honey,” the old woman poured a shot into the empty glass. “Have one on the house. To hell with the rules.” “You own the place,” Merc downed the drink in one gulp. “You make the rules.” “You got that right babe,” Mother Shome laughed. “So I can break them.” Her face went serious when she looked into the oval face of the former enforcer. “So is what the scum said true?” “What? That Doc Hardick offered to refit Morgan with a new bod, just as good if not better than her old one?” Mother Shome nodded. “Yeah its true.” She shoved the shot glass forward. Without thinking, Mother Shome refilled the glass. “And did Morgan know about this offer? “Know about it! She was the one who told him to go to hell.” Bishop’s Conspiracy 9 “You’re kidding?” “No. I wouldn’t make a decision like that for her. She said she would rather live in that tin can the rest of her life, than with the knowledge people had been killed to build her a new body.” “Amazing.” Mother Shome shook her head. “I don’t think there are many people who could turn something like that down.” “We knew if we brought this guy down and rescued the girl, there would be some heavy fall out,” Mercedes continued. “Morgan didn’t like it, but she knew it had to be done, or else more little girls would end up on a gurney waiting for some old coot shopping around for new pieces.” “You are one of a kind,” Mother Shome remarked. Mercedes tipped back her head and drained the glass. “Sometimes, Mom, it sure seems that way.” Mercedes threw on the heavy navy coat. The article of clothing was the only thing remaining of her and Morgan’s days as Enforcers before the accident. “So is Morgan really pissed?” Mother Shome asked as Mercedes turned to leave. Bishops Conspiracy 10 “Well, she gave up the chance to have a semi-normal life and on top of that, we lost our only means of support. She isn’t exactly doing cartwheels right now.” “Well, I can always use a waitress.” Mother Shome smiled. “Thanks for the offer Mom,” Mercedes returned the grin, “but I don’t think I would do very well in the service industry.” “Understood,” she laughed. Her face became serious again. “Still, if you and Morgan need anything, let me know.” “I will,” Merc promised. She exited the dilapidated tavern, stepping out into the even more dismal streets. It was getting dark. Mercedes imagined the sun was setting behind the blanket of thick gray smog that continually covered this section of the megacity. Mercedes pulled the wide collar up around her neck. She hurried along the cracked garbage strewn sidewalk. The aged buildings began to cast a long shadow along her path as evening approached. The more high priced hookers were beginning to take their stations on the corners. Their runners started to circle the streets in hovercrafts Bishops Conspiracy 11 decorated with an excessive amount of chrome and cheap fake gems, looking for potential clients for their stable. She had been gone longer than she had planned, and spent more of their meager remaining creds than she should. Mercedes sighed. She lit a cigarette. This would be another thing Morgan would hassle her about. “It wouldn’t be so bad,” Mercedes muttered to herself while she hurried through the streets, “if she wasn’t so right all the damn time.” At last, the brownstone with the large crumbling steps loomed in front of her. The ancient hinges creaked in protest when she opened the entrance door, and began to ascend the long narrow stairs. Climbing the creaking steps, Merc reached the top floor. She continued down the constricted hallway, till she found herself in front of a door with a glass pane. The words “S&D Security and Investigations” were written in large bold letters upon the surface. The tiny apartment slash office was a far cry from the apartment she had, when she worked for the ITC. Then, there wasn’t much of a market for private consultants these days. It had taken most of their combined savings Bishop’s Conspiracy 12 to rebuild Morgan’s mutilated body, after the incident investigators ruled Morgan’s injuries were the result of negligence. Never mind that if she hadn’t taken that blast, thirty people would be dead right now. Hell, Merc would have done the same. Of course, Mercedes could have stayed an Enforcer, but she couldn’t abandon Morgan. They had been partners for over five years, and friends for nearly that same length of time. Though it didn’t help that she nearly beat the poor Corper to a pulp, when he delivered his ruling on Morgan’s case. Mercedes smiled. It was one of her few fond memories of that horrible incident. Mercedes slowly unlocked and opened the door. With any luck, Morgan would be asleep or in a virtual dive, oblivious to her arrival. Mercedes crept into the room that served as both their office, and domicile. Off to the left, was a small kitchenette with a food proc machine balanced on a narrow shelf painted an eggshell white. The tiny sink was filled with empty containers from different eateries. Mercedes made a note to take care of the dishes, such as they were, tomorrow. Bishop’s Conspiracy 13 In the eastern corner of the studio apartment the Vis screen of Morgan’s KDS integrated Virtual System glowed bright blue. A luminescent grid blinked on and off in the darkness. Good. That meant Morgan was in a dive. She was safe. “It’s about time you got back,” she heard the high-pitched lyrical voice of her partner from out of the darkness. Mercedes nearly leaped into the air, surprised from the outburst. “You scared me nearly half to death.” Mercedes grabbed her chest. She looked over at the longhaired figure sitting in the darkness. Her artificial left eye shone like a red beacon. Morgan wasn’t wearing her glasses. That was not a good sign. “Serves you right, stomping off in a huff and spending our creds on an angry drunk. Creds we don’t have by the way, thanks to you.” “Don’t go blaming all this on me,” Mercedes switched on a light. She could see Morgan sitting in her large black overstuffed chair. Her long blonde hair was strategically covering the left side of her face to hide her mutilated features. It was tragic. The blast had left the right side virtually unscathed, while horribly disfiguring the left. Bishop’s Conspiracy 14 Her once bronze skin, what remained of it, was now pale like that of a corpse. She was garbed in a large light blue gown, which concealed her now practically formless body. Mercedes knew beneath the black gloves, were metallic digits that had replaced her long tapered delicate fingers. Mercedes shrugged. She walked over, and pulled her own small bed down from the wall. She poured a drink and began to remove her boots. “Well…” Morgan continued drumming her fingers rhythmically on the arm of her chair, creating a metallic ringing sound. The noise always aggravated Merc. She likened it to fingers being scrapped across a chalkboard. Morgan knew that. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” “Care for a drink?” Mercedes said with a sheepish grin. “You know I can’t handle alcohol that well anymore. Make it a double.” Mercedes dutifully poured the drink and handed it to her partner. Morgan reached out for the drink in an awkward stiff fashion, forcing the metal rods comprising her limbs to reach for the glass. “Sorry.” Mercedes gulped down the drink in her glass and refilled it. Bishops Conspiracy 15 “It isn’t completely your fault. We both decided to take out that butcher.” “True, after all you were the one who did the net run and got the data we needed to catch him in the act.” “Not an easy task mind you,” Morgan said, taking a sip. “I nearly fried a neural path trying to break that ice.” “What about me? I am the one who had to take out the body guards and perform the actual capture.” “That’s different. You like getting shot at.” “No. I like shooting things. There is a big difference.” “Whatever. The problem is without income, I don’t know how we are going to pay the rent on this charming hovel we call home.” Morgan waved her hand, encompassing the run down tiny studio they currently shared. “Mother Shome did offer me a job as a waitress.” “I can see that.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “The first customer that crossed you would find themselves broken and bleeding on the floor.” “I am not that bad.” Mercedes said defensively. Morgan met her reply with a stony stare. Bishop’s Conspiracy 16 “Well I am getting better,” Mercedes replied demurely. “So anything interesting happen while you were out?” “Well I ran into our friend Inspector Garrett.” Mercedes answered while she pulled off the black turtleneck. “That is one person I hope you did leave broken and bleeding.” “Tried too. But he has some bruiser with him now.” Mercedes rubbed her neck, recollecting the vise like grip. “Figures. A scum like that would need a bodyguard. I suppose he is elated we lost our permit?” “Ecstatic would be more like it. What about that Corper exec we snagged when we got the doc. The one who was going to get the poor girl’s liver?” “I checked the docket. She was released on bail. Seems her uncle is a high standing chairman in a company.” “So it was all for nothing,” Mercedes moaned. She poured herself another drink. “Not completely,” Morgan leaned over to place her drink on the table next to her system. Mercedes filled the glass, and handed it back to her. Too Bishop’s Conspiracy 17 much movement caused her partner pain. They were low on the neural drugs. It might be sometime before they could replace them now. “We did manage to stop that Doc’s Chop Shop.” She looked over at Mercedes. “Of course, if you hadn’t shot the surgeon he might have been able to testify against the Corper.” “Hey, he shot at me. What choice did I have?” “You could have wounded him. Are you that bad a shot?” “I’m an excellent shot. You try taking a wound shot, when the air is filled with automatic fire buzzing all around you. I didn’t have time to think.” “Now there is a first.” “What do you mean by that?” “Nothing at all. Only, if the Doc had lived we may not be in this mess. At worst, we could have used him to blackmail the Corpers into keeping this all this quiet. Instead, you had to go charging in there shooting everything that moves, as usual.” “Now don’t start up again,” Mercedes warned. Bishop’s Conspiracy 18 Before Morgan could respond they heard the soft beep of the Vis phone. “Well are you going to answer it?” Mercedes asked, tapping her foot. “Why bother? We don’t have our permit, and besides it’s late.” The Vis buzzed again. Morgan let out a frustrated sigh and clicked on the prompter after making sure her left face was completely obscured by her hair. A broad shouldered, gray haired man materialized on the screen. Mercedes walked over to stand by her companion. “Captain Reilly,” Morgan addressed him in a pleasant tone. “It has been sometime since I’ve seen you.” “Not since that inquisition,” Mercedes snapped. Morgan kicked her partner in the shin with her heavy foot. Mercedes yelped in pain and glared at Morgan, who was smiling sweetly at their former commander. It was obvious Morgan was up to something. “I heard about your permit being pulled,” Reilly said. “Perhaps I can help.” “You mean like…” Bishop’s Conspiracy 19 Mercedes stopped in mid sentence, when Morgan elbowed her in the ribs. “How is that sir? Can you restore our permit?” “Perhaps, if you are willing to do something for me,” He replied. “A job?” Mercedes queried?” Reilly nodded. “You are head of the ITC,” Morgan said. “What kind of job would you have that your own people can’t do?” “I am afraid I can’t tell you on an unsecured line,” Reilly informed them. “Come to my office tomorrow morning and I will explain the details.” “Fine,” Mercedes said, lighting a cigarette. “I will be there at first light.” “And Morgan too.” “Sorry, I don’t go out as a general rule sir. I’m sure you can understand.” “I can appreciate that, but I need you both here. I assure you I can compensate you for the pain and inconvenience.” “What kind of compensation?” Mercedes demanded. “How about one thousand creds… to start.” Bishop’s Conspiracy 20 “This must be some case,” Mercedes whistled appreciatively at the amount. “We will both be there sir,” Morgan replied. “Good,” he nodded. “I look forward to seeing you both again.” The screen went dark once again. “What do you think he wants?” Mercedes asked. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it must be major.” “For now,” Mercedes yawned,” I guess we should both get some sleep. We will need to get up early and get ready for that appointment. “Yes,” Morgan replied sullenly. She sat back in her chair. “It takes time for me to become presentable these days.” In the dim light of the dingy apartment, Mercedes could see her partner stagger to the table in the kitchenette, and take possession of the bottle still resting there. |