Heather Marshall, known as “Doc” to the Nordic Troll’s crew, stepped out of the ship’s makeshift medical bay and approached the waiting captain. “Multiple concussions to the head, two cracked ribs, abrasions on both hands. Whoever this guy was, he was in one hell of a fight”.

“You think he died from a fight?”, Gerrin asked.

Doc replied “He died because someone beat the crap out of him”.

“Yeah, I could tell that. The question is, who beat the crap out of him and why?”

Doc looked puzzled. “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with us. Why the concern?”

Gerrin answered “This is something that could be put back on us. Some of these places like to pin these kinds of things on ships that pass through. They figure they can get hush money out of the crew to keep them from screaming murder to the nearest authorities”.

Doc returned “But this man showed up to work in this condition before we ever even touched down”.

Gerrin took a breath. “Maybe, but I’m still going to ask around and see if someone with a nasty grudge had it in for this guy”.

As he turned to leave, Doc asked “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid about this?”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you”, Gerrin shot back.

Doc sighed. As the captain left, two men from the local magistrate’s office came down the passageway. “He’s in here”, Doc said, leading the men into the med bay.

Gerrin found the Dockmaster who supervised unloading the Troll in his office. Gerrin closed the door behind him as he entered and sat down in front of the worn gray desk in the corner of the room where the man was working. “My medic just checked out your man and it looks like he died from someone beating the crap out of him”.

As the man sighed, Gerrin continued, “Is there anyone out there who might have had it in for this guy?”

The dockmaster, a man named Rodriguez, drew a breath. “He’s