Marlowe and the Spacewoman by Ian M. Dudley Page A

could not help but admire her strong jawline and sharply defined cheekbones.  A slight dimple on her chin and a perfectly proportioned nose rounded out an altogether pleasing face.  She had a raw, natural beauty Marlowe rarely saw anymore, a beauty that stood out in the sea of cookie-cutter good looks everyone else got from the the plastic surgery shops.
    She wore a simple unisex jumpsuit, maroon in color, and covered with zippered pockets.  A circular patch on the left shoulder of the jumpsuit depicted two stars with a gas giant in the foreground, and the words ‘Odyssey I’ across the top and ‘55 Cancri’ across the bottom.  Over her left breast was a name tag.  It read ‘MINARI’.  Clasped around both feet were some seriously heavy-duty, made for stomping boots.  They put the standard issue constables’ boots to shame; Marlowe decided he’d hate to meet up with the business end of them.
    The possibility that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen crossed his mind, and when she opened her eyes, that possibility became certainty.  He momentarily misplaced himself in her deep, penetrating eyes, warm gold like a well browned pie crust.  What had his brother gotten him into?  This was, without a doubt, going to lead to nothing but trouble.
    “Your Most Blessed Highness, Queen of the Solar System, you have a guest.  It is to my everlasting shame that I must present this humble peasant of little worth.”
    The woman sighed, blinked her eyes a few times, and stood up.  She glared at Obedere first, then her eyes stopped on Marlowe.
    “OK, I’ve died and gone to Hell, I’m dreaming, or you guys have put something in my food.  What is Humphrey Bogart doing here?”
    Obedere looked genuinely confused, Marlowe pleasantly surprised; she was the first person who actually recognized the man he’d modeled his most recent face after.
    “The name is Marlowe, sweetheart,” Marlowe said in his best imitation Bogie voice.  “I’ve been put in charge of figuring out who you are, where you come from, and how you got into the City.”  Marlowe liked that.  ’Put in charge’ made him sound more important, like he was the head of a task force or something.
    Nina laughed, but not a comfortable, friendly laugh.  More an on-the-edge-of-hysteria laugh.  “Phillip Marlowe is in charge of investigating me.  This can’t get any more absurd.  Is John Wayne going to lead the cavalry in at the last moment to save me?  Oh Christ, I’m going to have to go through my story again, aren’t I?  I’m so tired of telling it.  And what’s the point?  This floating freak here has recorded every telling of it.  Can’t you watch the tape and then come back?”
    Tape?  What would adhesive tape have to do with her story?  Marlowe didn’t know what she was talking about.  Another point in the loony bin…well, bin.
    “First, I look like Humphrey Bogart because I had my face surgically altered to look like him.  I’ve looked like a lot of fictional detectives in my day.  Just a sort of hobby of mine.  Second, I would prefer to hear your story in person rather than viewing a recording.  If it’s any incentive, afterward I’ll be taking custody of you and we’ll relocate you someplace a little more hospitable than your current situation.”
    She sighed again, sat back down on the bunk, crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and launched into her story.
    “My name is Nina Minari.  I’m the commander of the FSEP Odyssey I mission, Earth’s first voyage to another star system.  I’m also the sole survivor.”
    Marlowe interrupted.  “FSEP?”
    Nina opened her eyes long enough to roll them, a very fetching maneuver.  Obviously this was a question she’d heard before, many times.  “Fess-ep, F-S-E-P.  The Federal Space Exploration Program.  It replaced NASA in 1974.”
    “Ah,” said Marlowe, still completely in the dark.
    House piped in, a soft whisper in Marlowe’s ear.  “Big Fed space