Previously: A teenage girl was violently assaulted. Her koth teacher named Lakshi was immediately suspected and arrested. As rumour spread, so did discontent and protests at the presence of a koth in one of the city’s most prestigious schools. Even though Lakshi has now been cleared of involvement, the matter is far from closed…

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Early shift
On duty: DC Yannick Clarke & DC Lola Styles

London.
1973. April.

Clarke held the white, plastic blinds open just wide enough to see outside onto the street. He grimaced. “Look at these mouth-breathers.”

“Still there?” said Styles, somewhere behind him.

The street below, outside of the Specialist Dimensional Command offices, was filled with people. The people were waving placards and chanting something unintelligible. Which was probably for the best. They all looked of a piece, liked they’d been hired from a catalogue. Racist Thugs Monthly. Or maybe Idiots 4 Hire.

It was a mob, alright.

“I’m honestly surprised they even knew where to find us,” Clarke said. “It’s not like we’re on the London tourist map.”

“It’s because they were ordered to come here,” said DI Ford, emerging from his office. “They’re not the types to self-motivate. They were probably shuttled in on the train yesterday. Next week they’ll be somewhere else.”

“Good at hating,” Clarke said, releasing the blinds. He turned around to take in the room and shoved his hands in his pockets. There was a koth sat on the battered old sofa in the corner, its weight crushing the already decrepit item of furniture into the floor. Lakshi, the cleared suspect in the Field case, still holed up in the SDC and unable to get out the front door, having had to spend the night in the same building as the humans that had arrested him on suspicion of assaulting a child. The news had run the story despite requests not to, then the rumour-mill had filled in the gaps and pointed the finger. Lakshi’s name was all over the streets, even while a new suspect was already being interrogated down by Holland and Hobb down at the main station across town. The mob wasn’t there to protest in the name of Yvette Field; they were there to hound a koth.

He walked over and pulled up a chair. “You know,” Clarke said, sitting down wearily, “we didn’t leak your name. I’m sorry it all led back to you so fast.”

Lakshi smiled. “I’m a koth teaching in an expensive private school. That was always asking for trouble.”

“Then why do it? Why bother?”

They took a deep breath, the sofa creaking beneath them. “Because the more that kids see me, or other like me, or aen’fa, the more they see us as people. As part of society. I’m not a big, scary koth to my students. I’m their teacher.”

Clarke pointed at the window. “But what about all these arseholes?”

“Those are the parents, or those let down by parents,” Lakshi said, shrugging. “Nothing much I can do for them, as I see it. But every student that comes through my class, that’s another chance to shift the needle. To nudge society a tiny bit in a better direction. “

“But they’re just kids. What difference does it make?”

Lakshi laughed and crossed their arms. “Ah, detective. They’re kids now. Tomorrow they will be adults. They will become parents and politicians and scientists and footballers and astronauts. And teachers. Each individual child is an opportunity, to make a difference to the next ten generations. A small pebble now, an avalanche later.”

“Hnh.” Clarke leaned back and crossed his arms. “I certainly didn’t have any koth teachers. I don’t remember even seeing one of you in real life until, what, my twenties? When I joined the force, probably.”

“And how did that go for you?”

“I’m in my mid-fifties,” Clarke said. “You tell me.”

One of the telephones rang, and Robin answered it. After a brief exchange, she spoke to the room. “Wakey-wakey, detectives, they’re here. Be coming in the front door any moment.”

It wasn’t everyday that the Detective Chief Superintendent came to visit. Lola hadn’t spoken to DCS Stephen Walpole since their time on board the Pluma for the charity event. Coincidentally, that was also the last time that she’d spoken with the koth ambassador Vahko. She held open the door to the street as the two approached, flanked by armed officers who were maintaining a safe corridor through the baying crowd. Walpole looked irritated by the protesters but not intimidated. The koth ambassador towered over them all, of course, by a good two or three feet, and could probably have burnt most of them to a crisp before they were able to lay hands on them. Being an ambassador that was unlikely, though.

“DC Styles,” Walpole acknowledge with a nod as he strode past. The officers took up position outside the building.

Ambassador Vahko followed Walpole towards the stairs, then paused and turned back to face Lola. “Ah,” they said. “Detective Lola Styles, is it? I thought I recognised you. I hope you are well.”

She smiled as she closed the door to he outside world, blocking out some of the noise from the shouts and curses. “Ambassador,” she said, “thank you for coming.”

“I hear you have had a busy start to the year, detective.”

“They keep us on our toes.”

“Indeed. I envy you working with the Six Blades, even under such circumstances. They have a fearsome reputation.”

Lola felt her cheeks colouring. “We’d have been in trouble without them. I’d hoped a koth helping to save London from the creature’s attack would have helped sway opinions.”

“Ah,” Vahko said, nodding sagely. “One good deed is easily forgotten. One bad incident, such as this, lingers in the memory.”

Walpole, halfway up the stairs, coughed politely. “Ambassador, if you please.”

The ambassador turned with a small bow to her and followed Walpole.

Lola fanned her face for a few seconds, took a deep breath. Every interaction she had with someone from Palinor left her feeling revitalised, as if it were tapping into some deeper part of her. Outside of talking to Clarke, she hadn’t done anything about it. Didn’t even know what she could do about it - she was still so new even to the SDC.

Shaking herself from her ponderings, she darted up the steps two at a time and returned to the main office. The ambassador was embracing Lakshi, Clarke standing awkwardly off to one side. There would have been a time, not all that long ago, when he wouldn’t have been able to stay in the presence of two koths. Lola was proud of him.

“I spoke this morning with the headmaster of St Peter’s,” Vahko said, “who assures me that your position is secure, given that no charges have been brought.”

“Thank you, Ambassador, but it may not be that simple. The parents—”

“Oh yes,” Vahko continued, “there have already been a handful of letters requesting your immediate dismissal, ranging from outright fear that you could ignite the classroom to to being a bad moral influence to giving some of the younger pupils nightmares.”

Lakshi sighed and slumped down into the sofa. Clarke stood with his arms crossed, looking troubled.

“There has also been a petition,” Vahko said, “started by students in your class and now signed by over five hundred students across the school. Demanding your return to teaching as soon as possible.”

“What?”

Lola stood at a discreet distance as Lakshi held a clawed hand to their face, obscuring their expression. She noticed Clarke turn away and look up at the ceiling, walking a few paces to return to the window.

“Furthermore,” Vahko said, clearly enjoying delivering good news, “I’m pleased to let you know that Miss Field is in a stable condition. I have begun arrangements—”

“But her injuries,” Lakshi interrupted. “Even if she wakes up, it sounds like they are life changing.”

Vahko nodded. “Indeed. But I have spoken with the best micrologist surgeon I know back home. We are working to fast-track transferring Miss Field through the portal so that she can receive treatment. Mid-Earth surgeons will be accompanying her. It is remarkable what can be done with a combination of Earth medical technology and Palinese micrology. I am told there is hope that Miss Field’s body can be largely rebuilt. You are right, that she will never be the same again. There will be scars no matter the outside appearance. But we can help.”

Lola had read an article about the merging of medical techniques across the portals. It was expensive and unusual, and required all sorts of complicated diplomatic clearances, but was proving highly effective across a range of ailments and diseases. Turned out Palinor magic, combined with medical insight from the other dimensions, was better at manipulating misbehaving cells than traditional medicine and treatments.

Heaving themselves up from the sofa, Lakshi straightened their shoulders and took a breath “What of the man who did this to Yvette?”

Walpole stepped forward. “There’s a wealth of evidence against the suspect,” he said, “and that’s without testimony from Miss Field. If doctors on Palinor are able to work their magic so that she can speak, then it should be a simple case.

“Who is it? Who did this to her?” Lakshi’s nostrils flared, their jaw set firmly.

Vahko put a hand on their shoulder. “Leave such matters to the police.”

“On behalf of the SDC I’d like to apologise for how this has impacted on you personally,” Walpole said to Lakshi. “If the leak of information to the press came from my office, you can rest assured that I’ll be finding and punishing those responsible.”

“No apology is necessary,” Lakshi said, looking Walpole in the eyes. “Just do better next time.”

Lola winced. Though they had a point.

“Understood,” Walpole said. “We have a police van waiting out the back. It can take you discreetly to your home.”

“No,” Lakshi said. “I would rather walk out the front door, rather than be hidden and transported like a criminal. I am free to go, yes?”

“Of course. That is your choice. But be aware that the crowd outside could turn hostile.”

Lakshi and Vahko looked at Walpole, then at each other. “I think we can handle ourselves, detective,” Vahko said, with a wry smile.

Next chapter

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#37 Accusations: part 3

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