Stranger Times

The Proxima Dilemma

(Entry for the Sci-Fi Competitions and Challenges - Proximalympics Challenge)

(The challenge was to write a <2000 word story about an Olympic Games held on Proxima Centauri, interrupted by a terrorist organization.)

Recounted by John E Watterman, MD

"It ought to be obvious." My companion said, as she tilted that ridiculous wool fedora of hers forward slightly and adjusted her glasses. Asides from her hat, she wore her infamous scowl; her trademark expression worn only when she was aware of being the smartest person in the room.

Which was all the bloody time.

"The man you see before you grew up here on Proxima." Andromeda Haberhorn said. "His stocky, wide-set frame is typical for a child of Proxima's 1.6 Gs. His height, speech, and mannerisms all reflect an upbringing in hard manual labour. His sluggish witticisms and inconsistent denials all suggest a man of middling intelligence and pitiable ignorance of the trouble he's in."

The man at the other end of the desk, handcuffed to the table, blinked twice in nearly comical disbelief. It was a common reaction to the woman who declared herself the universe's only interplanetary investigative consultant.

Huffing irritably, she stood and stalked to the door of the interrogation room. I followed, exclaiming "Haberhorn! He was carrying nearly fifty pounds in explosives!"

"A fact tailored to provide the expected response from local law enforcement!" Andromeda replied, as she opened the door and marched down the hall. "Are you armed, mister Watterman?"

"No, as you bloody well know. They don't arm consultants. No matter their reputation."

"Bring your cane, then. It should be enough." She replied cryptically.

The detective that Research and Investigation Proxima (Yes, they tried very hard to have their police agency spell RIP, it should tell you something about how they police in this colony) assigned us followed at a near run. "Where the hell are you going, Haberhorn!"

"To stop a terrorist plot!" She called back.

"We have the suspect!"

"You have a stooge!" She said, not slowing as we walked out of the police station. "A man with fifty pounds of mining explosives, without anything to create shrapnel? The only person he would have killed was himself."

"You're a joke, Haberhorn! Your celebrity games won't work here!" The detective shouted at the entrance. She didn't follow as as we left the station and followed the flow of the crowd.

"You know the inspector was armed." I reminded Andromeda.

"Of course. But we can't afford the minutes it would have taken to convince the detective. There's a plot unfolding as we speak, Doctor Watterman, and we have precious little time to throw a wrench in their games."

"You think the Children of Sol have a bigger game in mind?" I asked her, as we crossed the small market to the tram station.

"I do, Mister Watterman. They're an Earth based organization, who believe we don't belong outside of the Sol system. What use would they have in taking members from Proxima?" She asked.

I considered, as we boarded the tram. "A decoy. As you already deduced. They have another way to attack the Proxima Olympia games."

"Not the games, mister Watterman, not the games at all!" Andromeda responded firmly.

"But the upheaval would firmly demonstrate Proxima's political instability, making further colonization less likely to the Earth Consulate." I speculated out loud. "It's a brilliant way to damage the backing for interstellar colonization."