by Thomas Stone
Jennings said, “Stop here in front of the hotel.”
The hotel looked more like a large warehouse with a number of smaller, attached structures stuck to it. A wooden Romanesque façade marked the entrance. Four columns of peeling paint sat atop a portico with wide stairs leading up to open double doors. Men milled about. When the vehicle pulled to a halt, a crowd began to congregate, contemplating the truck’s design and what other secrets it might hold.
Jennings looked through the shaded windshield. “I’ll have to make an announcement immediately.” He looked at Fagen, “They need to know about the wormhole.”
“You can tell them other ships will arrive soon.”
“But the wormhole?”
“Their drive systems will be the same as Minerva’s.”
“When will they be here?”
“Hard to say for sure, but I’d guess within a year.”
“That’s great news. A lot of these people want to go home, or at least off Mirabel. Mostly because of the kitzloc.”
The side hatches to the cab opened with a thud and a hiss before hydraulics lifted the plated panels out of the way.
Fagen gestured politely to the door, “After you.”
All but Harry made their way from the vehicle through the waiting crowd. Jennings, Fagen, Bobbi, and Kathleen with her striking platinum hair, climbed the stairs together until they reached the top where they turned and faced hundreds of expectant faces. Jennings held up his hands for quiet but it wasn’t necessary. The crowd was already straining to hear news of a home each and every one had forsaken years ago.
“As you can see, we have visitors!” started Jennings. “I have discovered that one of our greatest fears has come to pass. The wormhole has shut.”
An audible gasp passed through the crowd. A woman began to sob, someone shouted “No!” in disbelief.
Jennings held up his hands again. “All is not lost. The ship that has brought our new friends to Mirabel has a faster than light drive. Others are being constructed on Earth. The pipeline will soon be renewed. At that time, if you so desire, you will have the opportunity to leave Mirabel.”
A big, bearded man stood arms crossed in the front of the crowd. In a surly voice he asked, “How about some Corporation help with the creatures? Not everyone wants to leave. Braithwaite never briefed us about those things. They weren’t part of the deal. Why doesn’t the Corporation help now? They owe it to us.”
Jennings glanced at Fagen before speaking again. “All problems are being addressed. A good place to start is to bring me your immediate needs lists of supplies and repairs. Our guests have agreed to disburse the goods they have brought in exchange for help in appraising the… infestation.”
With that, Jennings turned and beckoned Fagen, Bobbi, and Kathleen inside the structure. An entourage followed. The building’s interior was austere, but functional. A wide alcove gave way to high ceilings above a sizeable lounge filled with couches, tables, and chairs. To the right was a bar with a handful of patrons, to the left open double doors revealed a conference area with rows of chairs set up before a stage and podium. Large fans spun overhead but it was still warm inside the building.
In the lobby, Jennings introduced Fagen, Bobbi, and Kathleen to his cabinet members and advisors. Fagen sized up the all-male crew to be a shifty lot at best. Both Bobbi and Kathleen received a fair amount of attention through their open stares. It was a rough bunch and more than one expressed a desire to get to know Bobbi and Kathleen better. Jennings paid no heed as he led them all to his office where, after closing the doors and situating himself behind a large ornate desk, he did a sudden Jekyll and Hyde, becoming all business in a show for his advisors.
“You would like assistance in your pursuit of the kitzloc and both of us would profit by your success. However, it’s an extremely dangerous proposition and I must insist upon a substantial pre-payment.”
“Agreed,” said Fagen, stopping Jennings short.
Jennings paused for only a moment. “The costs of hunting fees are 100,000 Corporation units in the form of hard currency, preferably titanium, but gold and/or diamonds will do as long as the gems are no smaller than one and a half karats. Additionally, as you can imagine, our community has a number of needs, especially medical supplies and semiconductor replacements. You have indicated you will be able to manufacture and provide us with many of these items. Lists are forthcoming. I’m sure you realize the importance of my requests since it has been years since a supply ship has paid a visit.”
Fagen nodded. “I understand your position and I feel confident we will be able to furnish most if not all of what you require. We may even be able to suggest and furnish software upgrades for many of your systems.”
Jennings clasped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, there is the question about assistance for your stated goal which is, if I fully understand, the capture of a kitzloc…” Jennings paused as his men shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
“That,” said Fagen, “is not entirely correct. If we were able to manage a capture, of course we’d be delighted, but our actual goal is to find and procure living tissue.”
Jennings stared at Fagen for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I take it you’re referring to the substance the creatures manufacture…”
“They secrete it, actually,” corrected Fagen.
Jennings looked at his clasped hands for a moment and Fagen realized Jennings knew less about the kitzloc than he had first supposed. Jennings continued, “That’s never been done and I’m not sure it can be done – even with simulcons. We’ve had people try. Always with less than stellar results.”
“I assure you, Mr. Jennings, it has been done. Two of my crew has accomplished the task. Kathleen here was one of those two
“When did this occur? We have no record.”
“Not long ago, some six weeks ago in warp time. In your time, years.”
“I recall no request for permission.”
“I was not involved in that operation.”
Jennings looked at Kathleen directly. “You used stealth to get in and out without our detecting your ship?”
“Yes.”
Jennings leaned back in his chair. “Well, this is another matter altogether. I will retroactively add additional fees for the previous mission. You now owe 200,000 Corporation units. Payment up front.”
“All right,” agreed Fagen, “anything else?”
Jennings looked around the room at his advisors. To a man, they looked uneasy but no one said anything.
“All right then, the deal is struck before witnesses.” Jennings stood and extended his hand to Fagen. Fagen clasped it. “And that’s the way we do business on Mirabel.” He grinned and the business persona melted away. “Ah, there is the matter of assistance. Field guides, maps, warm bodies?”
“Three experienced guides would be helpful. Preferably your most experienced with the kitzloc.”
“Not a problem.”
“When can I meet them?”
“Why, you’re looking at one right now.”
*
Amid the noise and music, Kathleen looked down at her scuffed boots. The colonists had loosened up considerably. At the conclusion of the business session with Jennings, the team was escorted to the meeting room they’d passed earlier and a banquet had been hastily assembled. While seated at long tables, they sampled Mirabelian home-grown food. Steaks from the herds of cattle, assorted fresh vegetables, then fruit and ice cream. A makeshift band set up during the meal and although the music was a bit rustic for Kathleen’s taste, it was all fun.
Bobbi and Fagen danced together in an imitation of the favorite local dance as the colonists swung into full celebration mode. With the afternoon’s revelations, many expected to leave the planet within a year and the others were certain the Corporation would arrive with a solution to the kitzloc problem. The mood was festive. Men greatly out-numbered women so not a female was spared a moment from dancing. As soon as one tune ended, the w
omen were grabbed by the next man in line before they had time to catch their breath and commenced to dance again at the first note of the next song. Home brew added lubricant to their spirits.
Mirabelian liquor was made from every available source and offered in bulk quantities. There was potato vodka flavored with native spices and fruit along with a particularly potent whiskey in addition to varieties of home brewed ale and wines. Men and women guzzled their drinks of choice and soon the din in the meeting room rose to a roar. With so many bodies packed inside the closed space, the cooling fans could not keep up and it became uncomfortably warm. Fanning herself, Kathleen left the room. A cool wind blew through the open front doors inviting her to step outside.
The crowd had spilled out of the lobby onto the front steps where not a few citizens sat, conversed, and drank. Kathleen drew a number of stares as she passed.
The truck sat impassively before the structure with night lights giving a dim glow behind the shaded cab windows. There were no other windows into which to attempt a peek. As a result, the novelty of the vehicle had lessened.
Kathleen walked past the truck. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been alone and it was good to be outside. She’d politely accepted liquor when it was pressed upon her, but had merely sipped and kept to the wine. Still, the effects of the alcohol could be felt, especially for someone who drank modestly. Kathleen crossed the wide avenue and headed toward a deserted walkway lined with trees that cast darkened shadows. Behind, she heard the band starting up a new song as well as drunken laughter and conversation. Towering over the rooftops Kathleen could see the ominous outer wall and she wondered what it would be like to live in Jennings Bank on a day to day basis.
A voice from the shadows startled her. “It ain’t altogether safe out here, ya know.” A man stepped into the light. Kathleen didn’t recall seeing him before.
“Uh yes, well I was just getting a little air. It’s stifling inside.”
The man moved closer and when he weaved, Kathleen knew he was drunk.
“So maybe you need a little company,” he said. “Comfort in the night, so to speak.” He smiled showing broken and brown teeth.
Kathleen was about to leave when she saw the flash of a knife. The situation was turning ugly fast. She could have disarmed him but thinking of creating an incident with the locals on their first day, she hesitated. It was just long enough for the man to slip the knife up under her chin. He pushed her backwards until she was forced against a tree trunk. His other hand began to explore her body as he pressed his face closer to hers. His breath was rank with home brew.
“Think about what you’re doing,” she said.
“I am thinking about it,” he said. “That’s the problem.”
Without warning, he gasped and stiffened. The knife was removed from her throat as his arm was twisted behind him by a hulking black shape. There was a snap as his arm broke. When he opened his mouth to scream, his neck suddenly whipped about and an equally audible thud distinguished the breaking of his spinal column between the third and fourth vertebrae. He slipped to the ground in a heap.
The dark hulk leapt away in great bounding strides toward the truck but not so quickly that Kathleen recognized it as Harry.
Chapter 3
“Just how did this happen, Ms. Casey?”
Kathleen looked at the space between her shoes before looking back to Jennings. They were in his office along with Fagen and the same group of community advisors as before. “I’m not sure… exactly.”
“Well, then,” said Jennings, “why don’t you tell us what you do know.”
Kathleen recounted what had occurred up to the point where she recognized Harry bounding back and entering the truck, but she left that part out of her story.
“And this… dark shape, simply bounced off down the street?” asked Jennings.
“Yes, but it remained in the shadows all the time. I couldn’t tell who or what it was.”
Jennings leaned back and made a triangle with his hands. “Hmm. All right then. We’ll look for tracks in the morning. Ted, you and Jimbo take Cummins’ body to the morgue. Double the guards, lock everything up. Mr. Fagen, a word please?”
Fagen remained behind as the others filed out. When he was alone with Jennings, Jennings stood and walked around his desk. Crossing his arms and leaning against the desk, he looked at Fagen. “You know, Edward – may I call you Edward?”
“Of course.”
“Edward, I have a nagging suspicion something more is going on here. Is there anything you may have forgotten to tell me?”
Fagen was the most well-traveled human in the universe. He’d faced dangers other men had yet to imagine. As a result, he didn’t rattle easily. However, as a master manipulator, he was also aware of the power of the truth.
“You have something on your mind, Jennings. Go ahead and tell me.”
“All right, I will. This other fellow of yours, this Irons character. I haven’t seen him since we left the airfield. Could there be a link between him and the incident tonight?”
Fagen started to speak but Jennings held up a hand to stop him. “I ask because we’ve never had a kitzloc attack within the community confines before and never have those creatures left a witness. The MO is all wrong. I don’t think Cummins was killed by a kitzloc. And what Kathleen says, well, an experienced operator like herself would have noticed more. I don’t feel she’s telling the entire truth. Why would she conceal the truth unless…”
Fagen nodded thoughtfully before speaking. “There is something I’ve been less than forthcoming about. Perhaps it was a mistake on my part.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about Irons and his condition.”
“What condition would that be?” Jennings asked.
“As we told you, he and Kathleen have been on Mirabel before. They were able to locate and enter a kitzloc lair where they were successful in stealing a globule of kitzloc essence. Of course, it was handed over to the Corporation on their return to Earth. As you probably know, its properties are priceless in a number of ways. In any case, they managed to kill the creature, out of self-protection, but that’s not the point.” Fagen paused.
“So?”
“So, what I haven’t told you is that Harry was infected during the mission by the kitzloc they killed.”
Jennings stared at Fagen as the words sunk in. “You brought an infected man into my town and neglected to tell me?”
“We have the infection under control…”
“Apparently not if he’s killing my people.”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
“I’m pretty damn certain already. In the morning, I want you out in the desert – I would suggest you acclimate your crew to the desert conditions and test your remotes. I’ll map out where you should go and meet you later in the afternoon. I might also suggest putting Mr. Irons in a cell and tying him down but somehow I think you won’t do that. So, get him out of here before word gets out one of your crew has a kitzloc infection. It’ll be assumed he murdered Cummins, which he probably did, but in any case, I’ll have a mob on my hands.” He looked Fagen in the eye. “Are we clear?”
“Quite.” Fagen rose from his chair and began to turn away.
A knock came from the door and Ted stuck his freckled red head inside. He gestured abruptly and hurriedly rushed to Jennings, “I have news,” he said, glancing at Fagen. He had to stand on his toes to whisper into Jennings’ ear.
“All right, thanks. Now leave us.”
Fagen started to follow Ted out the door but Jennings gave him pause when he said, “I want to know what these things are just as much as you, Fagen, and I don’t see the harm in making a profit when I can. For an additional consulting fee of 100,000 units, you’ll hire me as a consultant. Plus the three most knowledgeable kitzloc men I have.”
Fagen turned slowly back to Jennings. “Our transport won’t support that many.”
“I have another transport. O
h, not as fancy as yours but we can keep up. And I have simulcons. Think of the additional diversionary resources.”
Even though it had been part of the original plan, Fagen no longer wanted the colonists’ help, but he felt trapped. He agreed to Jennings’ offer not so much because he needed the help, but because of the murder. If Jennings told his people who he suspected was responsible, there would be trouble. He wished he had the opportunity to speak with Harry and Minerva first, but Jennings had put him on the spot. Why hadn’t Minerva kept Harry from leaving the truck? All the same, Jennings might be correct about a diversionary resource. If there was one thing Fagen had learned in his explorations, it was good to have a plan but better to have flexibility. You never knew when the need for additional help would arise.
“What about the repairs and supplies to your community?”
“We’ll have to see about that on the backside of the deal—after everything’s over. If we’re successful, we’ll be heroes and I can maintain control and order until the ships begin arriving again.”
Fagen nodded in agreement.
*
Fagen, Kathleen, and Bobbi sat in the wide cab of the truck before a console that looked more like controls for a spacecraft rather than a ground vehicle. Monitors occupied the space above the windshield, each showing a different view of the vehicle, both interior and exterior. Presently, the three regarded one monitor in particular. On it was displayed what appeared to be the sleeping form of Harry Irons in one of the berths in the upper portion of the truck.
Minerva’s voice came through a hidden speaker. “He was like this for hours. I have recordings of all his vital signs during the entire time. He appeared to be sleeping.”
The monitor showed Minerva materializing in the compartment and giving Harry the latest treatment she’d come up with. “He responded well and practically slept through it all. Tests show stability in the advance of the virus, but I have to add so many sedatives it’s hard to say about behavioral changes.”
