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An enormous crystal vat stands in the center of the Quanto Hotel restaurant on [[Space Station Rinktis]]. The vat is twice your height and about 6 meters across. Beer the color of clover honey fills it to capacity.
Little bits of silver float through the bubbles, glimmering under the bright lights.
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Space Station Rinktis is a marvel of engineering and design. Everything is so lush and richly appointed that, although it is a space station and not a world, it is known as "[[Spa Planet]]."
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The Onarii are empaths, and are generally thought to be calm and reasonable business partners.
They invest heavily in Rinktis, and it is the graceful curves and softly glowing lights of Onarii design that give the station its trademark look. They are also expert brewers.
Onarii beer is known to be one of the most refreshing beverages ever created. They would always win the Gold Seal of the IFBBA, but the Onarii do not [[compete|Onarii2]].
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Harry Bainbridge, your boss and the owner of the Rinktis Quanto Hotel, whispers feverishly to the ambulance team, negotiating for a way to have the body moved with as little fuss as possible.
The Earth cop, Cay Martinez, is examining the vat. She seems very absorbed in what she is doing.
Reg-te-Rone is an Earth-born human who has adopted the customs and naming conventions of his spouse's far-flung home planet. He is the president of the Interplanetary Fermented Beverage Brewer's Association (IFBBA). Visibly shaken, he paces in a slow circle around the beer vat.
Talk to [[Mr. Bainbridge]].
Talk to [[Reg-te-Rone]].
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The lights are too bright and belong to the cops from Earth. Normally, it would have taken a few days to get the Earth police out to Rinktis, but because of the importance of the interplanetary beer conference, there was already been a team on the station. Unfortunately, part of the reason for the extra security was that the brewers had demanded that all surveillance equipment be removed from the restaurant before the conference began. They had been worried about protecting their trade secrets.
You all should have been more concerned about protecting their judges.
As a Station insider, it is your responsibility to help the Earth police with the investigation. And it's time to get to [[work]].
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As the emergency team start setting up a ladder and gear to pull Judge Baanine's body out of the vat, Bainbridge turns in your direction.
"Well?" he says. You take a breath and say:
[[We'll get the one who did this.]]
[[We'll keep things quiet.]]
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You walk over to Reg-te-Rone and match his gait as he continues to pace. He glances at you, then looks back down at his feet.
You and Reg-te-Rone had spent a lot of time talking about the security details of the conference: cultural norms of the different attendees, varying first aid requirements for different species, how many guards would be needed to deter thieves from trying to siphon off some of the winning brew. Murder had not been discussed. You break the silence.
[["How are you holding up?"]]
[["Did Judge Baanine have any enemies?]] Any disputes with anyone here?"
Rinktis has all of the amenities: fine food, recreation, geo-engineered lakes, streams, and gardens of incredible [[beauty|Rinktis2]].
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Little bits of silver float through the bubbles, glimmering under the bright lights.
The lights are not intended to illuminate the beer. Also inside the tank floats the dead [[Onarii]], her face bloated, her silver skin continuing to flake away, dancing and glinting through the brew. She had been dead for several hours at least. You feel the acid rise in your throat. The [[harsh lights]] make you sweat.
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Rinktis was originally created as a health and rehab center, but business leaders soon realized the calming effect of a few days on the station. Now it has become a favorite location for interplanetary business meetings and conferences.
You had thought that hosting the Interplanetary Fermented Beverage Brewer's Association (IFBBA) meeting would be an entertaining break from the normal run of trade deals, real estate acquisitions, and labor disputes. But now it's the wee hours of the morning and you're standing in the restaurant, staring into the [[vat]].
For them, the fermented beverage is a pathway to enlightenment, which they call Sarrian. They consider it vulgar to compete when it comes to such spiritual matters.
However, the Onarii have no problem with //others// competing to create the finest beers. So, rather than enter the IFBBA contest themselves, a group of Onarii brewers always serve as the judges. But now one of those judges is floating in the [[vat]].
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As you near Detective Martinez, she holds up a hand. She turns to look at you, staring with a strange expression. You start to ask her what's wrong, but a quick shake of her head silences you. Slowly, she points towards the bottom of the vat.
You can't see what she's gesturing towards. You take one more step closer and lean down.
There, affixed to the bottom of the vat, is a bomb.
//To Be Continued.//
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Bainbridge looked skeptical. "A non-human murder? With no security footage and no leads? Don't make promises you can't keep."
It's good advice, but you wish your boss had a bit more confidence in your abilities. The hotel is on lockdown. The killer is here somewhere.
In your peripheral vision, you notice Detective [[Martinez]]. She's still examining the vat, but something about the way she is standing seems unnatural. Something is wrong.
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"Sssshhh," Bainbridge hissed. "I mean, I appreciate your interest in the bottom line. I always have. Right now, though, everyone wants answers. Never make it sound as though you have any other concerns. I know it is difficult, but try not to even *think* about business matters." He leaned in close. "Remember, we're dealing with empaths."
"What do I do if I suspect one of them?"
Bainbridge shrugged. "Try not to think about it. No, try not to *feel* any particular way about it. If you feel suspicion, anger, pity...whatever you feel, you'll be tipping them off."
You try to imagine questioning a suspect without having any emotional investment. It seems impossible.
Suddenly, in your peripheral vision, you notice Detective [[Martinez]]. She's still examining the vat, but something about the way she is standing seems unnatural. Something is wrong.
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The rest of the Onarii visitors are huddled in a corner, watching with unblinking purple eyes. You'll need to talk to some of them soon, but you should know more before intruding on their grief.
[[You scan the room]].
He sighed. "A reporter called me already. You know what she asked? How much that beer is worth." He nodded towards the vat. "She was only interested in the financial loss. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up making this my life."
You nod. "I think everyone wonders things like that at times like this."
In your peripheral vision, you notice Detective [[Martinez]]. She's still examining the vat, but something about the way she is standing seems unnatural. Something is wrong.
Enemies? She was an Onarii. They may dislike someone, they may even have words. They don't really do...enemies. Not like this.
You nod, but...there must be exceptions, right?
In your peripheral vision, you notice Detective [[Martinez]]. She's still examining the vat, but something about the way she is standing seems unnatural. Something is wrong.