Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  “Dey won’t be able to recognize him now.”

  “No, no,” Dresker amended, “Find a picture of him before the accident. It has to be in the employee records or something. We need to see if there was anyone else with him and, if so, who that was.”

  “Yep.” Truhbel nodded. “I’ll get dem started. What about dat Bob Jones? What do we do wif him?”

  “Keep Cleb on him for now. I’ll put a call in to Brickens to do a technological autopsy, assuming there is such a thing. We have to keep his identity under wraps.” He grabbed her arm just as she was leaving. “Hold off on sending off Elwood and Hawkins just yet. I want to talk with the crew in a few miniclicks.”

  § § §

  After one of Brickens’ crew had picked up Bob, Dresker pulled his team together and gave them the low-down on Bob’s identity and how he now believed that the deaths of Walter and Bob were somehow connected.

  “I think we all know that somebody took Walter out. I’m just fuzzy on why. And with our pal Bob getting scrunched up headfirst in the gears while sporting a, well—”

  “Erection,” Truhbel said with a shake of her head.

  “It just seems a little odd.”

  “Maybe he had a thing for gears,” said Elwood as he rocked back and forth on his heels in much the same way Hawkins did when thinking.

  Dresker started to respond, but didn’t. Sometimes it was better to let things play out. He motioned Elwood to continue.

  “He was a Mechanican, after all,” Elwood added.

  “Not sure I’m catchin’ yer meanin’, partner,” Hawkins said as he started to rock himself.

  “I’m just saying that Bob was a piece of machinery, and he obviously had size-envy. So he ends up face-to-face with the largest hunk of equipment in the CCOP, gets a bit excited, and ends up doing something against his better judgment.”

  “I gotta be honest, Elwood,” Dresker said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Elwood stopped rocking, as did Hawkins.

  “You fink he’s right?” Truhbel said, craning her head.

  “No,” Dresker said. “Not even in the least, but it is an angle I hadn’t considered.”

  Elwood put his hands in his pockets and began rocking again.

  “What do you fink, den?” Cleb asked.

  “I think we don’t have enough information to nail this down,” Dresker answered as he began to pace. “But I also think we have a damn good line here. We have two bots dead. Same day. Both got laid off and both died under unusual circumstances.”

  “Unusual for a Mechanican to die at all,” Pat said.

  She had her moments.

  “Well done, Pat.” Dresker continued his pacing. “And this is the part where we ask ourselves what really happened to these bots.”

  At this point everyone was rocking back and forth, which would have been fine had it been in unison. But it was haphazard and that drove Dresker crazy. He needed things to stay orderly, much like keeping his lights and darks separated in the wash. That thought brought up his ex-wife again and stopped his mind from racing. He wasn’t going to fall for that again. The little details are how she was able to fool around behind his back for so many years without him knowing it. Divert his thinking with menial things like inconsistent laundry while she engaged in larger things, so to speak.

  “Stop rocking! Okay, what I want from each of you is a hard-target search of every pub, eatery, refill station, space dock, tube station, bothouse...”

  “Boathouse?” Hawkins said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t think there are any boathouses on this floating city.”

  “No, not boathouse, Hawkins. Bothouse. You know, where bots are built and refurbished.”

  “Oh, right,” Hawkins said, nodding to Elwood. “That makes more sense.”

  “Good,” Dresker said. “Now where was I?”

  “Who ever heard of boats in a city?”

  “Not I,” Elwood answered his partner.

  “‘Zactly.”

  “Look,” Dresker grumbled, feeling his momentum dying, “everyone just turn over every rock and let’s figure this thing out.”

  “Ain’t no rocks, neither,” Dresker heard Hawkins say as the team split up to begin their search.

  Truhbel walked over.

  “I’ll check da feeds and see what happens wif dat,” she said. “If things is related, der will be one of dem fuzzy video edits.”

  “Good,” Dresker said, certain that anything out of place would hit her gut. It was uncanny. He sighed, feeling a deep-routed need for a drink. “I’m going to head down to The Battery to see if Clenk’s heard anything.”

  “Don’t drink too much,” Truhbel said with a hint of camaraderie.

  “I’m not planning to drink at all.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m on duty,” Dresker said, trying just as hard to convince himself as he looked at the time.

  “Uh huh.”

  Damn her hunches.

  DESPERATELY NEED A DRINK

  DRESKER KNEW HE wasn’t fooling anybody. His plan was simple. Head off to The Battery and drink until the events of the day blurred into a mush of tranquility.

  It wasn’t often these days that he would go on a bender, but the culmination of his divorce anniversary and the unimaginably crazy day he’d just been through, and the fact that he’d just tipped a few back the night before, giving his body a strong desire for another round to keep the flow going, gave him just cause to go at it again.

  Clenk admonishingly shook his head as Dresker slid into one of the barstools.

  “Don’t give me that look, old friend,” Dresker said grimly. “You saw the news and what my day has been like.”

  “Beep.”

  “It amazes me that you don’t pop a few Charges now and then yourself.”

  “Boop beep.”

  “Honestly?” Dresker slammed back his first. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Boop.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  All in all Dresker would have to label Clenk one of his better friends at the CCOP. Not that he knew Clenk all that well, but a bartender of Clenk’s caliber was a confidant. You could talk to him and not worry about him judging or ratting on you. Okay, well, maybe some judgment, but he wouldn’t spill his guts about what you’ve told him over the course of a bottle. Being that Clenk had no speech synthesizer, people could interpret his responses however they wanted to, assuming they didn’t speak BeepBot. Dresker did a little better than that. Growing up on a planet where street signs, classrooms, and various other automata were handled beeplingually, or, as the linguists were fond of calling it, the lingua franca of Kerloth (which, of course, ended up causing the bot sympathizers to suggest that the linguists instead call it the beepua franca since it was only right to use the common language to describe itself), Dresker pretty well understood everything Clenk had to say.

  “I asked for this, you know?”

  Clenk had a rag out and was wiping down the bar, leaving little smears of water.

  “You should get someone in to help you keep this place straight,” Dresker said after a moment. “Give you a little break. You’re not getting any younger, my friend.”

  “Boop beep beep.”

  “As someone who knows people, I understand where you’re coming from. But if you found the right person, or another Mechanican—”

  “Boop.”

  “Sorry, bot.” Dresker tended to forget that Clenk was against the whole Mechanican moniker for his people. “Anyway, it’d do you some good to have some help around here.”

  “Beep beep boop bip beep.”

  “Fair enough,” said Dresker as he popped another shot. “If I find someone that fits the bill, I’ll send them your way. Deal?”

  “Boop.”

  Dresker looked around. “You’ve obviously been doing some renovations around here. What gives?”

  Clenk pointed out that business had been pretty slow
as of late and that he hoped a bit of polish on the place would help. The top of the bar had a fresh shine to it and the wall behind Clenk was newly painted and even had a few pictures hanging. Dresker noted the rest of the joint was just as dingy as ever.

  He pointed to one of the frames. “Hey, what’s that one all about?”

  Clenk tapped it and said, “Beep bip bing bop.”

  “Really? ‘The Battery Ejected,’ was the original name of this joint?”

  “Bip.”

  “I don’t get it. What’s that mean?”

  Clenk explained that he wasn’t the sole proprietor when the pub was originally conceived.

  Dresker was careful to sip his drink as Clenk talked. He didn’t want the juice to run out too soon.

  The story went that Clenk originally had a partner, one Digitwhatsit Botbuilt. Clenk was to run the pub and Digitwhatsit would handle funding and marketing. Clenk suggested they call their pub “The Battery,” but Digitwhatsit was looking for a metaphorical play that could attract large groups of bots. He pushed for “The Battery Ejected,” claiming that it would make the pub sound like a place where bots could kick back and relax from a toiling day. Clenk didn’t like the name, but Digitwhatsit had the money and so he won out.

  Clenk said that Digitwhatsit was always looking for that next angle. He was a greedy bot.

  “Sounds like a real go-getter,” Dresker said as he pointed at the stack of pamphlets that Clenk was holding. “I love those old flyers too, brings me back to when I was a kid on Nekler. There was always someone trying to sell you something on that backwater planet.”

  “Boop bip,” Clenk said, handing him a few.

  “Really? Thanks!”

  Dresker glanced over each one, smiling at how cheesy they looked. Digitwhatsit had marketed a bunch of options ranging from simple repairs and hardware upgrades to an advanced spa and pampering service that was housed on an off-CCOP planet in the Plego Sector. All the businesses were geared toward Mechanicans, too, which Dresker found interesting.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Dresker said as he folded up the pamphlets and stuck them in his pocket. “This guy was trying everything. I find the spa one the best of the bunch. Who’d have thought that Mechanicans would want something like that?”

  “Bop beep.”

  Dresker laughed and took another sip, bringing it to about half gone.

  “Anyway, go on with the story...after topping off my drink, if you would.”

  It turned out that Digitwhatsit worked tirelessly to fund his schemes, but he took one job that would be his last. He was working on the outside rim of the CCOP and he didn’t return. Clenk had never learned what happened to him, but “The Battery Ejected” was left with only one owner.

  “And so you changed the name back to ‘The Battery’ and that was that,” affirmed Dresker. “Can’t say I blame you. Has a better ring to it.”

  Dresker loved history. Not so much the study of major events, but more the things that happened to the little guy. He could spend many clicks listening to such tales. It was also nice to have someone to talk to about something other than his job.

  His VizScreen chimed.

  “Damn,” he said and activated it. “Hey, Hawkins, what’s going on?”

  “Hey, chief. Just down here at the Gisker’s. You know, the pub with that mechanical beast that ya try and hang on to as it bounces about?”

  “I know the place, yeah.”

  “Anyhoo,” Hawkins said, “when we was at the docks, the place was almost a ghost town. There were a couple of stragglers, but they weren’t much help. We did get the name of the dock foreman. Couldn’t find him anywhere though. Couldn’t find that muscle-bound box slinger either. It’s like they both just up and flew south for the winter. Elwood asked what we ought to do next and I got to thinking that maybe some of the strikers would head off for a drink, so we came on in here.”

  Hawkins paused for a click.

  “And?” Dresker said.

  “Elwood picked up a game playing darts with this Mechanican fella—which I thought was sorta dumb if ya get after askin’ me about it. Them robots always hits the center. It’s uncanny, really. I suppose with all them exacting parts they got it ain’t no wonder, but I still think it’s pretty crazy. ‘Course Elwood keeps buying that fella Charges after each win. Just downed his third one so I’m sure he’ll start flubbin’ a few shots. Maybe that’s Elwood’s plan? Sometimes I’d swear that boy is holding out on me.” Hawkins flicked at his hat. “Well, I’ll be danged. That metal fella wobbled and hit one of the picture frames, and Elwood just smiled and gave me the thumbs down.” Hawkins squinted at Dresker. “The boy does have his moments, even if he sometimes gets things as backwards as a gator in a horse show. Shows he’s thinking, all right.”

  “Hawkins? To the point please.”

  “Oh, right.” Hawkins held up a frothy mug to the screen and grinned. “Where was I?”

  Dresker couldn’t help but smile. Seemed he wasn’t the only one putting a few back this evening. “Elwood is playing darts with a Mechanican.”

  “Right, right,” Hawkins said and then looked around coyly for a miniclick. “So anyways, this feller starts talkin’ to Elwood about that Starliner building I was tellin’ you about today.”

  “And?”

  “And it turns out that they got more stirring up in there than dust from a chicken run.”

  Dresker just stared at the screen.

  “Beg yer pardon,” Hawkins said. “What I mean is that somethin’s going down at that place.”

  “Hawkins,” Dresker said gloomily, “it’s late and I’m tired. Do you have any pertinent information for me that goes beyond generalities? If not, I’d kind of like to get dru...erm, some rest.”

  “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. This Mechanican feller says that he heard it was one of them boys from that Starliner building that ended up squished like a box.”

  “Walter?”

  “That’s the name he said.”

  “He said that it was related to The Starliner...cult thing?”

  “I think they’d be redder than boiled lobster at being called a cult, but that’s the right of it.”

  Dresker didn’t know what a lobster was or how it related to The Starliner people, but sometimes you just let Hawkins speak and you nodded along. He was disappointed that they hadn’t pulled any intel on the strike at the docks, but webs had a way of connecting to sticking points, so it was just a matter of time before something got uncovered.

  “How’d this come about?” Dresker asked.

  “Well, you know how it is when these Mechanicans get a few Charges in ‘em. They start talkin’ funny. I don’t think the feller meant to drop anybody’s name but sure as dew on the grass in the mornin’ this’un dropped Walter’s name more than once.”

  “Good work, Hawkins,” Dresker said. “Tell Elwood I appreciate him losing a few bucks at darts to help with the investigation too.”

  “Oh, he’ll win it back.” Hawkins chuckled. “Damn bot just hit the clock on the other side of the room. Them things get tipsy and they start to wiggling like a baby in a beehive.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Dresker said, unsure if they did or not. “Well, let’s compare notes first thing.”

  Dresker hung up and looked at the full shot glass. It was inviting him to drink, but a part of his mind was reveling in the new information. Deadening his synapses right now wouldn’t be the most intuitive approach. Then again, the sinister side of his thoughts offered, sometimes the best way to solve a mystery was to take your mind off of it.

  “Beep,” Clenk said, pointing at Dresker’s VizScreen.

  It was chiming again.

  “Yeah,” Dresker said as the face of Cleb filled the screen.

  “Almost thought you wasn’t there,” said Cleb.

  “Sorry, I was...um...never mind. What do you need?”

  Cleb looked over his shoulder and moved a little closer to the VizScreen, keeping his voice l
ow. “I’m at DaPlace,” he said. “Der’s dis lady Merchanercan here trying to talk wif all da Uknar. I don’t know what she’s finking, to be honest. Uknar don’t find Merchanercans attractive.” He stopped for a second and looked a bit thoughtful. “Well, der is dem ones dat have fetishes.”

  “I’m sure that’s not why you called, Cleb.”

  “Actually, it kind of is.”

  Dresker dropped his shoulders. He hated this part of his job. It was one thing giving orders and listening to reports, and even filling out reports…but having to delve into the deep routed feelings or, most often, oddities of his employees was dreadful. Zarliana had once told him that part of being a good manager was being an excellent listener. After that statement he recalled that she quickly shooed him from her office as he began expressing the problems he’d had dealing with his divorce.

  “First,” he said gently, “let me say that if you find it important to express your interest in being with a Mechanican then you will have the full backing of our department and the CCOP as a whole. We are all about tolerance and diversity as you well know.”

  “Huh?”

  “Cleb, it’s all right. Nobody is going to judge you...except maybe other Uknar, but we’ll deal with that as a team.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cleb said as clear as if he had been born Hyzethian.

  Dresker felt confused. “Didn’t you just say that you have desires for Mechanican females?”

  “No,” Cleb’s eyes widened considerably. “I said dat some Uknar do. I ain’t one of dem!”

  “Oh,” Dresker went to offer thanks to a supreme being and then recalled that he didn’t believe in any so instead he turned the VizScreen away and slammed the shot back reverently. “Sorry,” he said after catching his breath and reseting the screen. “I misunderstood. So just get to what you want to tell me.”

  Cleb’s look of disgust took a few moments to dissipate. “Dis Merchanercan has been talking about the time is short and somefing is going to happen soon...and she is looking for a good time.”

  “What’s supposed to be happening?”

  “I don’t know da answer to dat, but da one fing she did say was dat it had somefing to do wif dem Starliner people.”