Take stock. None of this shit means Campion is innocent, but it does seem like excessively elaborate efforts at misdirection. Fin can’t see it. Technically, though, she is still the only viable suspect.

Careful. Don’t be spellbound by the super-competent astronaut.

Is that it? Deep down Fin doesn’t want her to be guilty?

Easier if she is. He and Salvo can go home, Fin back to repatriation or maybe just regular investigations. Crimes of passion, premeditated crimes, crimes of stupidity, of which there are many.

But they have to survive first, and that prospect isn’t looking good. Fin doesn’t want this tug of war diluting priorities.

“Equivalence, come back,” says Fin.

“Go head, Ragtime Two,” says Salvo.

“I’m Ragtime Two?”

“She is the captain.”

“Fine. Heretic. How is your mission?”

“Almost accomplished.”

“Will I distract you?”

“No. I can split my attention. What do you need?”

“As long as we’re alive, let’s remember why we are here. Anything further on the wolf?”

“I ran a trace on the parts. Most appear to be proprietary, but those that aren’t are from MaxGalactix.”

“Who owns MaxGalactix?”

“Someone called Yan Maxwell—”

“Why… where have I heard that name?” asks Fin.

“From the list of murdered passengers. Yan Maxwell was on the passenger manifest and is one of the people we put back together.”

Shit.

“Did the wolf—”

“No, Ragtime Two, the wolf did not kill Maxwell or any of the other passengers.”

“You know this because…”

“I have already covered this. Wound pattern. The wolf did not kill anybody on the Ragtime. Nothing human in his belly. The robots did the killing.”

“Malfunction?”

“Robots don’t malfunction that way. They were programmed to kill. Reprogrammed.”

Maybe.

“Send me what you have on Maxwell,” says Fin.

“Doing it now.”

“And find—”

“Links between Maxwell and any other passengers. In progress.”

“Good man.” Oops. “Equivalence, was that offensive?”

“No.” Was there a delay?

“Ragtime Two out.”

Something vibrates heavily and Fin braces, hands against two walls, expecting to be turned upside down but disappointed. The Ragtime settles like an upset stomach, although the lights flicker. Fucking space. Fucking spaceships.

Indistinct chatter on the radio.

One of those cleaner bots comes slithering by, and Fin tenses, but it just… cleans. Fin still wants to shoot it just on general principle. How many are there on board?

He’ll go crazy if he ponders that. Instead, he goes back to what he knows. Data. Salvo has some information on Yan Maxwell shared, and a few candidates with links. Fin goes through the linked people first. Tenuous links at best, statistical anomalies, too far removed to be anything useful. He’s their employer, although with several intermediaries in between. He’s the wealthiest man in the Sol system. Indirectly, he employs everybody.

Video files play on Fin’s IFC.