The hologram of his partner flickered to life behind him. She tilted her chin up and moved her eyes as though speed-reading off the ceiling. Her normally cheerful expression rapidly sobered. The skill of her programmers was evidenced by the sadness she could convey with a simple look. "Captain?"
He poured his coffee and turned to face her, steaming mug in hand. "Yes?"
"I recommend that you take a seat."
He shook his head in confusion. "What?"
"Please be seated, Captain. It is for your own good."
Her subdued tone finally got through to him, as did the content of her message. He made his way over to the table and sat. "What's the matter, SELMA? Bad news?" He tried to imagine any twentieth century event that could upset her. The historical facts she knew were exactly that--history. Living history, true, but history just the same, to the both of them.
The hologram took a deep breath. "The Toronto police have reported a homicide which occurred last night at approximately eleven o'clock. They have a suspect in custody."
Darien set his coffee on the table. "And? I'm assuming there's more to it than that."
"There is. Captain, the victim has been identified as Mace Warfield."
For an instant, he nearly laughed. Mace, his impetuous one-time partner from the twenty-second century, couldn't possibly have been in Toronto the previous night. Then he remembered their stint together when they apprehended the fugitive Eli Tartareen. Mace had ridden off on Darien's motorcycle to escape being sent back where he belonged.
Darien clenched his teeth. That irresponsible fool! How could he have allowed himself to be killed? Why hadn't he let Darien send him back? Why hadn't he at least taken the time to learn more about the present? Why did he have to be so headstrong and reckless?
Why did he have to die?
"Captain? Captain, are you all right?" SELMA would have laid a concerned hand on his shoulder if the gesture would have done any good. His well-being was central to her programming, and right now his being wasn't very well.
He brushed at the tears that had managed to elude his self control. "I'm fine," he gritted, his jaw muscles refusing to unclench.
"You don't appear fine."
"I'm fine!" he shouted. He took several calming breaths, unable to look her in the eye, even though he knew her real "eye" was in his pocket. "You said the police have a suspect?"
"Yes, Captain." She paused a moment to scan her memory. "It seems she has been hospitalized for an unexplained illness."
"She? Mace was killed by a woman?" He almost laughed again at the irony. It was probably how Mace would have chosen to go. "SELMA, I want you to get me there. I have to see him."
"Certainly." She cocked her head while she communicated with airline computers at the speed of electricity. "I have you on an 8 PM flight. Is that satisfactory?"
"Perfect." Beside him, his coffee steamed its heat away into the morning air.