A woman was sitting in a chair, lounging. Long mahogany-colored hair spread over the shoulders of the same uniform jacket as Vallencourt's. The shining halo of monitors that surrounded her gave her face a mysterious expression, snatching it from the twilight of the control room and casting new, unusual shadows. The woman's throat was cut. The jacket and trousers were darkened from the blood that was thickly splattered on them. The drops on the face resembled tears from frozen, glassy eyes. Her neck was a bloody mess: it was surprising that her head was even supported on her shoulders. Her stomach was sick. It was a very familiar feeling. In the Saturnian Hegemony there is no free possession of firearms (let alone kinetic ones). As a result, seventy percent of murders are committed with the use of bladed weapons. In Titan-Orbital, where every girl from the yard punks fancies herself Julie d'Aubigny, this percentage is close to one hundred. I've seen plenty of wounds inflicted by bladed weapons. This was not the case. No knife or cleaver could have caused such wounds: the neck of the corpse looked as if the killer had used a chain saw. Or, as an option, with a vibroblade...

So, before us is a detective. And an interesting detective at that. The presentation of information and plot is exactly what it should be in a good detective story. World and setting. In detail, in detail, it may interest the most demanding reader, even a person who still shuns such fiction. The gender issue deserves special mention - everything is f…b…s here. (I wonder if any of the readers’ farts will burn on this issue?) References, Easter eggs, little things, proverbs, expressions, all sorts of other tripe. There are a lot of them here and it is clear that the author put a lot of effort and time in this regard to create the atmosphere he needed.