E.I.A. (Jim Able: Offworld Book 5)

by Ed Charlton

  Jim Able: OFFWORLD

  Episode Five

  E.I.A.

  Ed Charlton

  Copyright

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  Jim Able: Offworld E.I.A.

  © 2021 Ed Charlton

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-935751-54-0

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  E.I.A.

  ***

  Previously

  Jim Able has recently been fired from his job at Earth’s Office of External Affairs. A job that had taken him in search of an alien from an unknown world.

  The mission proved more complex than Jim had realized and was only partly successful. A consequence was Jim’s sudden unemployment.

  Tella, Jim’s Neraffan colleague on the mission, finds Jim in a bar and offers him a new job.

  Chapter One

  A courier from the External Intelligence Agency called for Jim Able at 6:00 a.m. Jim was awake, as he had been most of the night; he had given up trying to sleep and shaved at about four. His stomach did a double somersault at the sound of the doorbell.

  The man came into the hallway of Jim’s apartment with an air of genial impatience. He reminded Jim of an elderly cleric, someone so used to daily routines that he dealt with all he encountered as a potential delay to the next item on his ingrained list.

  “Mr. Able, good morning. Here is your security key.”

  “Thank you,” said Jim, taking the oddly shaped device.

  “Don’t lose it. If you do, report it at once to your section chief.”

  “Understood.”

  “It will allow you access according to your position and record all attempts at access beyond that.”

  “Of course.” Jim smiled.

  He knew he was entering a world of institutionalized paranoia. That fact alone had him almost calling Tella to turn the job down, but he knew what his friend would say. He knew he had to give it a try; besides, he had no alternative employment.

  Jim had been sacked by his former boss, a woman haunted by personal demons and whom he had battled for years. She had finally decided he was too much trouble. She had, of course, been right.

  Tella had been blunt, the first time they had worked together, saying Jim was in the wrong job. The Neraffan had rescued him from depression by giving him this leg up back to normality. All he had to do was go through with it. All he had to do was hold down the job long enough to prove himself.

  “The EIA, by its very nature, has to be set apart from normal society,” the courier continued. “You will find everything you need within its walls. You should limit outside entanglements.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Date from within the ranks. It’s easier.”

  Jim smiled. “Ah, I see. Pillow talk and all that.”

  “Forgive me, but sometimes it’s better that someone tell you in person. That’s why we have these introductions.”

  “I guess so...”

  “You could read it all in the manuals. You will have to read it all in the manuals. But, generally, things are easier to remember when you hear them from someone directly.”

  “Okay. What else?” asked Jim, picking up his jacket.

  The courier opened the door for him.

  “No construction work on any properties you own or rent, except by arrangement through the agency. No vehicles other than agency-sanctioned ones at any time, for any reason.”

  “Oh...okay. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “No conversations about work with anyone. That includes relatives, friends,” the man gave Jim a sideways look, “and drinking buddies.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. That much was true in External Affairs too.”

  “You may be instructed to wear surveillance equipment at any time.”

  Jim frowned. “You mean on an assignment?”

  “No. At any time, for any reason.”

  Jim felt the color coming to his face.

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “No. No one does. But it is appreciated as a safeguard against infiltration.”

  “Yeah, appreciated by anyone without an ounce of regard for privacy or personal space.”

  “Privacy can be a cover for criminal activity, Mr. Able, and worse.”

  Jim thought, I need to have words with Tella about this.

  ***

  As they traveled through the rain in the courier’s limousine, Jim wondered if this man knew for whom Jim was going to work—that a Neraffan was an EIA agent. Jim knew it was a closely guarded secret, so much so that Tella was officially referred to only as “R546.”

  He chanced a question.

  “What do you know about the agency using nonhuman agents?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean aliens.”

  “Using aliens for what?

  “As agents.”

  The courier shook his head. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Jim was watching his discomfort with a certain enjoyment.

  “But you’d see them around the office.”

  “I don’t have an office, Mr. Able. I work on the road.”

  “Yes, of course. But you’d know about it, if it happened.”

  “Only if it was relevant to my job.”

  “I mean, it would be a big deal—if it got out—that the EIA wasn’t entirely human. Talk about a security risk! The Earth-Only folks would have a field day.”

  “There are potentially many things that happen within the walls that would look different if they were viewed from outside.”

  Jim smiled, happy he had finally gotten the courier to deviate from his script and learned that the use of aliens wasn’t the only thing the agency was keeping from the general population. He thought he would enjoy discovering more.

  “But, Mr. Able, beware of asking this kind of question. What you ask and of whom you ask it are pieces of management information that are used in the ongoing personnel review process. You will find answers do not come cheap; even the questions without answers can be expensive.”

  “I hear you.”

  ***

  At the base of an anonymous office building, a conventional set of doors marked the entrance to the EIA facility. Inside were two polished stainless steel walls that curved around each other to keep a security desk and a few small offices hidden and protected from the street.

  Jim thanked and said goodbye to the courier at the first barrier. A silent security guard took Jim into an office; scanned him for hidden devices; and took multiple images of his face, eyes, head, and hands. Eventually, he was escorted to an elevator. The guard took Jim’s key and inserted it into the elevator control panel.

  Finally, the guard spoke. “Have a nice day, Mr. Able.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  The elevator took Jim to the only floor he was authorized to see. Another guard stopped him and escorted him to Tella’s office. Tella was not there.

  “Typical,” said Jim.

  The guard said nothing and left him marooned in the empty office.

  The room had a wall of glass looking out onto the city. It was an impressive view from a human perspective, but Jim wondered what this landscape looked like through Tella’s alien eyes. Millions of humans lived and worked below, unaware they were being protected, at least in part, by agents from other worlds.

  As he stood looking for familiar landmarks, his hand came to rest on the back of Tella’s chair. He noticed the white robe draped across the back. Without moving
, he cast his eyes around. On the wall to his right was a drawing board. On a shelf, under it, was a long thin pointer. Sighing, Jim turned, picked it up, and brought it back to the window. He paused for a moment, twirling it in his fingers. He thought again about the layout of the office behind him. There was little wall space completely empty—in fact, only one area large enough for a seven-foot alien to conceal itself.

  With a graceful fencing move, Jim turned and lunged at the spot with the pointer.

  “Ouch!” cried Tella.

  The wall rippled as Jim’s new boss stepped forward, becoming more visible as it moved against the varying colors of the office furniture.

  “That trick isn’t likely to work on me, Tella,” Jim said, shaking his head.

  “Pass me my robe.”

  Jim threw the white cloth over. Tella’s skin swam with a milky hue as it caught the robe and pulled it over its head. The robe had a half hood that held tightly to the hairless head. Tella’s nose protruded only slightly forward of its face, above thin lips. Its eyes were barely sunken. The face was bland and inscrutable, a constant challenge for a human to read.

  “Welcome to the EIA, James Able. You passed your first test.”

  “Bastard,” said Jim, smiling.

  “It’s good to see you, Jim. I’m glad you didn’t back out.”

  “If I’d known this was the sort of welcome I’d get, I might have.”

  “What sort of welcome do you mean?” Tella asked, cocking its head to one side.

  “Finding my boss naked in his office in a compromising position with the wall.”

  Tella laughed. “But you’re forgetting something. Please don’t refer to me using your gender-specific words.”

  Jim laughed and said, “I told you before, that’s difficult for humans. ‘It’ just doesn’t sound right.”

  “I’ll survive. Please sit. We have an administrative mountain to climb before we can begin any work.”

  ***

  Afternoon came before Jim got to see his desk, one of many crammed into a small area in the open-plan part of the floor. It was only his desk for as long as he needed it today. Tomorrow he would be somewhere else.

  “We keep all records electronically here at the agency,” said Tella, smiling.

  “Good. I hate the sound of paper files being slammed onto desks.”

  This was the only reference made to Jim’s former boss and her anachronistic ways.

  “When do I get an office like yours?”

  “You don’t. Even I have to share with others. We’ll be in space a lot. No one gets a permanent place until they stop flying.”

  “Hmm. The desk is fine.”

  “Good. You’re of far more use out there than in here.”

  Chapter Two

  Paun Mic Loff felt the burned wind ripple his fur. He inhaled deeply and straightened his uniform.

  “Proceed,” he ordered.

  The spotless vehicle rumbled slowly forward. He stood holding the rail above the driver’s shoulder. He gripped tighter to suppress the quivers that roiled inside.

  The mobile platform had been designed for such an occasion as this. Those watching would see him, the Gul-Raeff, first. The others, his aides, squatted respectfully behind him. They would seem merely a group of uniforms, anonymous and unimportant. This was his moment.

  The wide left turn around the administrative building revealed a view of the first rank of craft. They stood exactly parked, perfectly aligned, the silver suits of his pilots and crews aglow against the shadows of the enameled hulls.

  A growl from the engine masked his unconscious whimper of excitement.

  The second rank came into view, a perfect mirror image of the first—each face to the front with ears erect, each gaze fixed on the future, each mind fixed on him.

  He allowed the vehicle to travel the full length of the first and second ranks, turn, and return between the next rows of craft.

  “Stop here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The platform lurched to a halt before a pilot, one of the hundreds arrayed across the field.

  The Raeff stepped down. Dead grass crunched beneath his boots.

  “Pilot! Come forward!”

  The young, suited figure marched the five steps and clicked his heels at attention.

  “Sir!”

  He leaned down to place his snout alongside the pilot’s so that no one would overhear what was said.

  “I thank you...for your courage, for your dedication, for your sacrifice.”

  The pilot swallowed involuntarily. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

  Holding his gaze, the Raeff drank in the fear in the young pilot’s eye. He smiled. The pup will never understand why. He smiled wider. “Return to your craft with my blessing.”

  “Yes, sir! Th-thank you, sir!”

  He climbed aboard the platform, and the inspection continued until he had seen, and been seen by, each crew proudly filling the field.

  For one sweating pilot, the world had changed. He had never met a prophet before. It was said they had doom in their eyes. To see the smiling face and hear doom spelled out in so few words made the young pilot’s breath catch. It made him dizzy. Those eyes would haunt his remaining nights.

  Chapter Three

  Later in his first day, Jim was already feeling his initial enthusiasm wear off. The introductory procedures were stultifyingly dull and seemingly endless. Tella came over to his desk. When Jim looked up at the Neraffan’s face, he was always conscious of the lack of clues as to what Tella was feeling. But, this time, its face seemed pushed forward in eagerness and its eyes twinkled.

  “Tella! There’s an expression on your face! Congratulations.”

  “Jim, we have just been given a puzzle. In fact, a puzzle within a puzzle.”

  Jim got up and walked with Tella into the glass-walled office. The sun was turning the slate-gray clouds silver. The world had taken on a transparency that made Tella seem more of a native than Jim.

  “The meeting I was summoned to earlier,” Tella began hesitatingly, “...this is causing something of a ‘stir,’ as you say.” It paused. “We, that is I, have been requested to assist in a non-Earth-related assignment.”

  “Is that strange?”

  “Two things are strange. One is that they requested me by number. They have heard of my successes on previous missions, obviously, but for my activities to have been studied sufficiently to warrant such attention is a cause for some concern.”

  “Someone’s been watching you.”

  “Someone’s been watching the External Intelligence Agency—watching it in enough detail to distinguish me from the named agents and the other numbered agents.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s the second strange thing: the Praestans Rapax.”

  “What?” Jim’s eyes widened.

  “The Praestans Rapax themselves.” Tella nodded.

  “What would the makers of the ultimate gourmet spacecraft want with you?”

  “And the most secretive and paranoid of any industrial organization. For them to ask anyone else for help is unheard of.”

  “For them to ask anyone else for anything...”

  Tella looked at Jim for a few seconds without speaking.

  “Our superiors were inclined to deny my existence and refuse the offer.”

  “They’re crazy. We have to do it! Think of the chance this gives us to find out...”

  “To find out about the Praestans Rapax? To do some industrial espionage on the behalf of Earth companies?”

  “Well, no. But...”

  “If we do this, we have to approach it with clean hands. We cannot go in there hoping to disadvantage them. Actually, the chance this gives us...is to build a preferential relationship for Earth. We can be sure the politicians will gr
ind us into powder if we mess up such a chance. We can’t succeed if we go with the intention to spy on them.”

  Jim smiled wistfully. “You’re right, of course.”

  “Besides, they are probably better at such things than we could ever be, as evidenced by their knowledge of our operations here.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “You can’t do it. That’ll reveal we employ aliens. That would give an outside organization too much information.”

  Tella nodded, smiled, and waited.

  Jim frowned. “That is why you were saying ‘we.’ You want me to be R546.”

  “Correct.”

  “So how is that clean-handed? Aren’t we starting by lying to them?”

  “The analysts think they do not realize...exactly who I am. They think this call comes from knowledge of types of cases and success rates. And that if they knew I was Neraffan, they would not have asked for me. They are expecting a human.”

  “And we can’t tell them. We have to give them a human.”

  “I’ll come with you as an advisor of some sort, but you will be R546 to them.”

  “No. No way. You’ve got experienced, well-trained agents you could take with you. You don’t want me. What about the months of classes you said I had to take?”

  “Jim...”

  “And besides, your—I mean our—bosses wouldn’t want someone with my checkered history on something as sensitive as this.”

  “Jim...”

  “I mean...I only just got here. What are you thinking? It’s out of the question!”

  Tella waited a moment. “Finished?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re coming because I told them you can handle it. I have confidence in your abilities. Besides, I don’t intend to let you out of my sight.”

  “Thanks...I think. What are they asking us to do?”

  “They say that they have intelligence about an impending space-borne conflict, they think it can be prevented, and they want me to do it.”

  “Wait a minute. This sounds like a diplomatic job. Why us? Why you?”

  Tella held up its pale hands.

  “The analysis goes like this. The PR make spacecraft. They could, for the right customer, make exceptional fighting machines. That they do not normally do so does not mean they never have or never will. Suppose they have, and are now regretting it? Perhaps they are trying to have the best of both worlds: to build the craft, get paid for them, and then out-maneuver their customer to see that they are never used. Why us? Because we’re not involved. Why me? My record is one of secret and sensitive cases.”