Yixee’s eyes were wide and her skin had turned a shade of green. With all the eyes of top executives bearing down on her, she blurted, “Prime Pletiff got confused when the gears stopped and he set his personal gravity device to zero.”
“Understandable.” Dresker coughed after a few moments. “So where is he now?”
“He got stuck to the dome,” Yixee said, looking defeated. “There is a rescue team out trying to get him down from it now.”
“I’m just glad to hear he didn’t reset his gravity back to standard while up there,” Brickens said.
Dresker couldn’t help himself. First a giggle, then a chuckle, and then a full laughing fit erupted from deep inside that was soon joined by Brickens, Twekman, and, to everyone’s surprise, Lita Bomgrade. Zarliana, however, did not join with the merriment. Nor did Yixee.
After the laughter reduced to an occasional snort and titter, Zarliana attempted to continue.
“I’m sure the laughter is merely a stress reliever and not a case of my prime administrators finding enjoyment in a fellow Prime’s discomfort,” Zarliana said. “If I thought it otherwise I would need to set up another series of training seminars regarding inappropriate behavior. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
The mirth ended, though Dresker still found the image of Pletiff being stuck to the dome one of the funniest things he’d ever imagined. Hopefully the rescuers thought to bring up some dome cleaning solution since Pletiff was bound to leave smears all over it.
“As you all know,” Zarliana said, adjusting her collar, “I do go out of my way to not get in the way of daily affairs. Things are run on this station by millions of individuals, each doing a duty that shares in the success or failure of our operations.”
“It wasn’t as if we had much of a choice,” Brickens grumbled.
Zarliana didn’t seem to take offense.
“Indeed,” Zarliana replied with more control than Dresker could have mustered. “When something of this magnitude occurs it shakes the foundation of that structure.” Her skin began to lose a bit of opacity. “It takes years to cultivate a sense of security among a group of people this large. Years. Yet that comfort can be decimated in mere microclicks by even the smallest wrinkle. What happened today will have far-reaching effects into the psyche of each person on this world.”
The silence that followed her statement was thick.
Dresker wanted to point out how he had warned them all that this was a possibility. A strong one at that. Not having tight security around the Hub was just asking people to muck around with it. Granted, it had been there for a number of years and nobody had mucked with it. Further, the CCOP had held its position in space for a very long time without a person even sticking chewing gum in the gear workings. But it was still, in his estimation, inevitable.
“And this,” Zarliana said, “is exactly the event the CCOP needed to entertain future success.”
Huh?
Everyone looked around the table as if the others may have understood.
“Pardon?” Dresker said.
“One of the worst things a business such as ours can sustain is the blow of stagnancy,” said Zarliana, her skin going fully opaque again, which now signified to Dresker that she was feeling exuberant.
In all his years working with the Hyzethian president of the CCOP, he had never seen her be anything but even-keeled.
This had all been part of her stratagem!
Dresker considered himself a good judge of character, but if there was any one person that confused him—aside from his ex-wife—it was Zarliana.
“For a business to grow and attain that next level, the employees must have an occasional rallying cry. There must be strikes and barters and grievous events that stir them up and give them a purpose behind the daily grind.”
Dresker wanted to argue that point, but he recalled his talk with Truhbel about how bored they were on the station. He remembered the feeling of exhilaration at the chase of a potential murder, sad as that may be. He still felt the rush at learning that Bob Jones was the bot found in the gears. He also recalled the images of all the reporters, workers, and even that WorkerBot at the Hub with the infernal beeping.
The Conglomerated Conglomeration of Planets was in shock with excitement.
He nodded. “I get it.” Everyone looked askance at him. “Think about how each of you feels right now. Do you feel like your job over the next few weeks is going to be the typical day-to-day grind?”
“Not in the least,” Bomgrade said.
“And how does that make you feel, Ms. Bomgrade?”
“Disheveled, Mr. Dresker.”
“I can imagine,” Dresker said. “You have a lot of work to do in order to keep up the image of this place, especially now. But isn’t that better than a simple weekly conference where you basically say the same things with a slightly different bent?”
Bomgrade raised an eyebrow. “A valid point, Mr. Dresker.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bomgrade.”
Twekman made a gurgling noise, a Tchumachian means of clearing the throat.
“Yes, Prime Twekman?” Zarliana asked.
“President,” he said with his eyes bulged, “does this mean that you do not wish us to solve the problem so it doesn’t happen again? Because we have been working on a plethora of ideas to circumvent such a recurrence.”
Dresker held his breath.
“Oh, no, Prime Twekman,” Zarliana answered. “You must solve the problem. While I admit that I have waited a near eternity for someone to wreak a bit of havoc on the gears, the avenue is too wide open now for a repeat offense. You will need to work with Prime Brickens to secure the facility.” She looked at Dresker and grinned, “And do include Prime Dresker in your planning as well, as I’m sure he will want to ensure that the security measures are, as he says, ‘up to snuff.’”
Even though Dresker was pleased with having a new investigation, he couldn’t help but feel his temperature rise. That the gears had been tempered with was bad enough, but the president said that she had been waiting for this? And that made him right about his thought that this was in her plan. She wanted this to happen!
“Now,” Zarliana continued, “I don’t want to keep you from your tasks. If you are in need of a quote from me, Prime Bomgrade, you may get one from my assistant.”
Everyone got up to leave, except for Dresker.
“You intended for this to happen,” he stated.
Zarliana waited for the others to shuffle out before responding.
“Not in the way it happened, no. I am not interested in the loss of life, mechanical or otherwise.”
“With all due respect, President Zarliana, I can’t comprehend how any leader would, for lack of a better word, orchestrate chaos among the people.”
“You said it yourself, Mr. Dresker. The people were bored and complacent. They needed something to get their juices flowing again. And don’t you worry, if I have anything to say about it this won’t be the last time it will happen.”
“Good, because... What?”
“You heard me correctly. It is my job to make sure that there are ebbs and flows in our business. Sometimes you need to have the excitement and sometimes you need to keep the security of the mundane. Yesterday was mundane, Mr. Dresker.” She paused and then pulled up her iPane. “If there is nothing further I believe you have an investigation to attend to.”
This time he didn’t pause at the door.
INTERVIEW
GETTING TO A meeting with Zarliana involved riding in the back of a nice jet sedan with Tony Ravallo and his two goons, Thumbs and Percy. Returning from the meeting was a different affair altogether. The door barely missed your bottom on the way out and you were left to your own devices as to how to get back.
Dresker decided on taking the tubes, so called because they had a cylindrical shape. Most of the vast network was completely housed underground, but many stations had rises that jutted into the main levels.
Dresker
had found them fascinating. Yellowed in color, one could see right through the tubes as a series of trains sped by via magnetic pulses. There were no tracks, so floating platforms spun in new passengers while dispensing exiting travelers.
Many a night Dresker had sat outside one of the above-ground terminals, after a few rounds at The Battery, and watched the trains roll through. The scene enthralled him.
But he was also aware that the tubes were offensive to members of the ERD. It was one of only a few things that their group had not designed, so to be around the technology was almost an affront to their better judgment. His hope was that Twekman would find the concept offensive and would therefore not tag along.
Twekman, though, was too busy prattling on about his concepts and only seemed to notice after they had sat down.
“Are we in the tubes?” he said with a margin of disgust.
“That’s what impresses me most about you, Prime Twekman. You’re very observant.”
Twekman beamed. “Thank you,” he said, his black orbs bulging, and then began blathering again.
Dresker closed his eyes and took a few microclicks to catch his breath.
He had stated he was bored, so it wasn’t like he had anyone to blame but himself for the day turning into a fiasco. Visions of his father telling him to be careful what he wished for sprang to mind. If Dresker had been as superstitious a man as his father, he might even have believed that his basic desires held some corollary to the outcome of daily process in the universe. But he was more sane than that. At least he liked to think so.
The hum of the tram wasn’t quite enough to drown out Twekman or the public VizScreen attached to each section. Dresker didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear Selby Gilbeht running down the latest information on the Hub incident. People were murmuring amongst themselves and giggling as well. Standard fair in the tubes. Every now and then, though, Dresker caught, “Isn’t that the ‘erect penis’ guy?” and other such sentiments. He caught the scene again in his mind’s eye. Damn Truhbel for pushing the point and riling him up so much. Of all the things he’d dreamed of being remembered for, being the ‘erect penis guy’ wasn’t in contention.
Dresker jolted as Twekman shook him. “We’re almost there.”
People were still looking at him and there was a lot of pointing going on. Then he heard his own voice on the VizScreen recanting the now famous line. Everyone on the tram laughed except for the Uknar passengers, who seemed confused as to what was funny. At that moment, Dresker felt a strong bond with the Uknar people, except, again, Truhbel.
And now we go to the main Hub entrance where we have one of the detectives from the Internal Investigation Bureau, Selby said from the VizScreen.
Dresker popped to attention just as the tram pulled into the station.
Pat Whittaker, Pat was saying to the reporter as Dresker’s jaw tightened, and, yes, I am a member of the IIB team.
Dresker willed the tram to open its doors and he burst out and down the ramp, keeping his pace until he reached the reporter and Pat.
“Interview over,” Dresker called out as the cameraman spun around to place the lens on him, no doubt hoping for another fun clip. “I believe you are needed inside,” he pointed at Pat, “and let me give you a firm statement,” he added to the reporter, panting, “If you don’t hear it from me then it doesn’t represent the thoughts of the Internal Investigation Bureau. Anything you hear otherwise is speculation.”
The reporter smiled and grabbed Dresker by the arm. “We are here with Prime Adam Dresker, of the IIB. So, Mr. Dresker, what exactly has happened?”
“The gears stopped,” he said between ragged breaths.
“Everyone knows that, sir,” she said. “But what we’d like to know is why they stopped.”
“There was a malfunction.”
“And the cause of this malfunction?”
“Classified information at this time.”
“Classified?” The reporter said the word as if she’d need to look up the definition. “We already know about the Mechanican that was in the gears, Mr. Dresker. We even have images of it.”
Damn it.
“I would imagine that everyone is aware of that,” Dresker said smoothly as he wiped his brow. “The malfunction that is classified relates to the Mechanican that was found in the gears.”
“So you know who the Mechanican was?”
“I do,” he said and added, “and that is classified at this time.”
“Since when is it the policy of the Internal Investigation Bureau to classify anything?”
Dresker thought that was an odd question. The general policy at the IIB, or any security team that he’d ever been a part of, was to keep most things classified. Transparency was not in his user’s manual. Once they had actual facts, he would let the press know enough to sate their curiosity but not too much as to further security holes...of which there were far too many already.
“Since I found a Mechanican demolished in the gears of the Hub this morning.”
“Well, we—”
“Let me make this quite clear,” Dresker said as his breathing slowed. “We have an investigation going on right now to determine what happened. Until we know that information, everything is conjecture. Once we have a solid understanding, we will share information with the public. Until then, it all remains classified.”
“So you do know something?”
Dresker smiled. “As I’ve already stated, I know many things. Right now, I know that this interview is over.”
DAMN HER HUNCHES
AS DRESKER GOT off the elevator, he found Elwood and Hawkins looking over one of the stairwells. He pointed at them and said, “Aren’t you two supposed to be on guard outside making sure that the press and everyone else stays away?”
“Pat took over for us...” Elwood started and then stopped with the look of a man who had just had one of those eureka moments. “Never happen again, sir.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Cleb had chained up the WorkerBot near the back wall and was studying his VizScreen. Twekman was back and talking with his crew. A handful of junior agents were scouring the area for clues.
Dresker walked up to Cleb. “You know where your partner was just now?”
Cleb looked up from his screen and shook his head.
“She was out giving an interview to a reporter.”
“Dat’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. Fortunately, I stopped the interview before any damage was done, but it was close.”
Dresker liked Cleb. He was damn smart and reliable. His partner, Pat, though, was reliably not smart, but, of that, she was considerably reliable. For the most part she was harmless. Sometimes, though, she could put a wrinkle in things when she wanted to. Not maliciously. Never that.
Rubbing his eyes and feeling beat, Dresker said, “Just keep an eye on her like you’re supposed to.”
“Sorry, was watchin’ dis WorkerBot is all.”
“I know,” Dresker said with as much empathy as he could muster. “We should just chain her up next to the WorkerBot and save us all some trouble.”
“You want me to chain up Pat?”
“What? Uh, no. No! It was just a joke.”
“Dat would be some type of harassment or somefin’, I fink.”
“The joke?”
“Chaining up Pat.”
“Right,” Dresker said. “We’re not doing that. I was joking. You understand?”
“I mean we could tie her up, if dat’s what you’re finking is da best way to—”
Pat stopped in front them and said, “Who are we tying up?”
“We’re not tying anybody up! Look, forget I said anything. I was making a joke. A ha-ha. A funny. Let it go. Forget about it. Okay?”
Pat and Cleb looked at each other and shrugged.
“Anyway,” Dresker said after releasing a deep breath, “has anything of value happened since I left?”
“Nope. Dem guards say dey ain’t seen
nuffin’.”
“What about Mr. Jones?”
“Who?”
Dresker knocked a couple of times on Bob’s carcass.
“Oh, him,” Cleb said. “Only fing I found was dat his marriage broke up after he got his penis upgrade fing done, and you already know he was laid off dis morning.”
“So maybe this one actually did commit suicide, unlike our pal Walter?”
Cleb grunted.
§ § §
“What’s the word, Truhbel?”
“I fink dat dey came dis way,” she said as her arm followed a path from a doorway at the top of a short staircase.
Dresker studied the platform. It looked unfettered to him. The entire area was full of stairways, beams, catwalks, and doorways. It reminded Dresker of his training academy back on Reteen-27 where they used to run practice raids, but this was quite a bit larger. It had the same smell of grease and metal, though.
“How do you know that?”
“‘Cause if you look here,” she showed him her VizScreen, “you’ll see that it’s the only path that comes from manufacturing.”
“So?”
“Dat’s where Bob worked, remember?”
Indeed, he did remember. “Excellent. What about cameras there?”
“Nope.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope,” she said as she deactivated her VizScreen. “But der is somefing else.”
“Okay?”
“Seems dat only a few miniclicks before da gears stopped der was a strike started at the manufacturing docks.”
Dresker squinted. “You think they’re related?”
“Yep.”
Dresker had known Truhbel for a long time and if there was any one thing he could count on, it was her gut. She had a knack for it. Dresker didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count all the times one of Truhbel’s hunches had been dead-on.
“Okay, so let’s get Hawkins and Elwood over to talk to whoever the lead guy was. Have them bring Bob’s picture—”
Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1) Page 11
