Murder on the Orion Express

Jan the Intergalactic Aviator and I stood looking over the body of Lucky Pierre.

"Are we sure that it was murder?" she asked. "It could've been from when we made the hyperspace jump."

I looked closer at the hole in his chest. "This doesn't look like an accident. What kind of an accident would cause Pierre to be shot in the heart during a hyperspace jump?"

"You got any experience in finding murderers?" she asked.

"I'm no detective, but I am a fan of Herculoid P'oirot. I must've read five or six of those mysteries."

"And that makes you an expert?"

"No," I answered. "But we've got to do something."

I looked around at the rest of the passengers, the businessman was angrily looking at his space phone. I walked over to him.

"Your phone doesn't work?" I ask.

"No," he said in a huff. "Something happened when we jumped, I can't make calls now. Stupid space phone."

"Does that have a camera?"

"Of course," he said proudly. "I get all of the latest gadgets."

"Then I need you to take pictures of Pierre, here," I said, indicating to the body.

"Ew," he sneered. "Who put you in charge?"

"He did." I grabbed the man by the arm and hoisted him towards the body on the floor. "Take pictures."

Jan looked up at me with a frown. "What about the crew? We haven't heard anything from them."

"You're right," I answered. Then I turned to the cameraman. "Keep taking pictures, Donald Chump."

We rushed through the door that leads to the cockpit. There was a small entryway between the cabin and the door leading to the ship's controls. Jan pushed the call button on the control panel.

"Hello?" she asked. "Hello? Is there anybody in there?"

Silence.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" she said into the speaker again.

Again, there was no reply.

Jan took a small tool kit out of her cargo pocket; pulling out a sonic screwdriver, she started to work on the door.

"Do you always carry your tools everywhere you go?" I asked.

"It becomes a habit," she shrugged. "You never know when you need to fix... a problem. You always wear that hat everywhere you go?"

"Hey now," I held up a finger. Then I heard the businessman say "Ew" again.

Jan and I moved back to the cabin to take a look. The businessman had his nose crinkled up and was clutching his stomach. "Look!" he pointed to Pierre's body.

The hole in his chest had blackened. It was also beginning to open wider as if something were eating his skin. I leaned closer and even took a few cautionary sniffs.

"Molecular acid," I said. "It looks like our murderer put some on whatever killed him. It melted the evidence and half his chest."

"What do we do now?" Jan asked.

"We have less than two hours before we get to Orion," I replied cooly. "And one thing's for sure. Lucky Pierre is dead, murdered, and somebody's responsible."