Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  “We talked about chemicals?”

  Coremon smiled at Lemoolie. She found herself smiling back but couldn’t explain why. This man was throwing her off her game.

  “Yes,” Coremon said. “You are obviously overworked again, sir.”

  “You have no idea,” said Refter haggardly. “I have had to attend two meetings this week already, including this one. Two! I’m exhausted.”

  “I’m sure the iPane messages are piling up as well,” Coremon added.

  “Five of them so far,” Refter said with a groan. “Four were from my wife, but still, having to respond to five messages in less than three days can really take it out of you.” He sat up and seemed to gain a little life again. He pointed at Lemoolie. “And you wonder why I’m demanding more income? Maybe you should try sitting in this chair for a week and see how you manage!”

  Lemoolie scoffed. “I attend, on average, twenty meetings each week. I travel all over da place doing investergations on bad people. I sift frough hundreds of documents daily and answer so many VizScreen messages dat it would make your head flip around. To be blunt, I am not qualified to be in your position.”

  Refter moved from shock to contentment. “It seems that we understand each other.”

  “Agent Lemoolie,” Coremon said, jumping back into the conversation, “you now know the purpose of the layoffs. What further information could we provide to assist you?”

  “Why only Merchanercans?”

  “Ah, good question.” Coremon seemed impressed. “I assure you that my fellow Mechanicans were not targeted in any way. They simply held the positions that fell in the way of the cuts. The workers who assumed the responsibilities consisted of various races, including other Mechanicans. It was purely coincidental.”

  “Get me a list of the names and information for dem all.”

  “Right away,” Coremon said as his hands moved with a blur across his iPane.

  Lemoolie had never seen fingers move so fast. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she could be persuaded not to crush this one in the bedroom. Technically, she probably couldn’t since he no doubt consisted of a metallic frame that could withstand far more pressure than she could possibly exert. If only he had been fashioned in the shape of an Uknar, which, for some reason never seemed to be the case...then she caught herself and shuddered. What was she thinking?

  “Hmm,” Coremon said as he kept tapping away. “I can’t seem to get a connection to your unit.”

  She activated her VizScreen and looked through the security settings. It showed the files were being sent but they wouldn’t come through. Fumbling with the permissions, she opened the channel.

  “Try now.”

  He moved in closer. “No, it’s still not working. Let’s see,” he said, then suddenly stopped his efforts and placed a hand on his hip. “I see what it is. You’re using a NegligibleSoft device. I’ve found that the inferior VizScreen product doesn’t have the capacity to communicate consistently with Fruit’s superior iPane.”

  Lemoolie wanted to argue that the iPane was a hunk of garbage compared to the VizScreen, but the argument was as old as the CCOP itself and she had long ago determined that both sides thought the other side stupid.

  “You can just put dem in my mail and I’ll study it all later,” she said with a uncontrollable smile as she packed away her things.

  “It will be there in moments, ma’am,” she heard that silky voice call out as the door closed behind her.

  Again, she shuddered.

  § § §

  “Where were you this morning?” Refter demanded as the agent left.

  Coremon fought to keep his cool.

  Refter was an imbecile, like all Humans and other races. Only Mechanicans had enough logic to pass the idiot-test in his mind. Being that he was a prototype, he surpassed even his mechanical brothers in intellect and clarity of thought. That he had to act as subordinate to dull-minded creatures consistently ate away at his nerves chip.

  “As I said before, sir,” Coremon said evenly, “I was working with chemical compounds. You know that I have particular skills that are required from time to time in the lower levels of manufacturing.”

  “I know, but lately you’ve been gone a lot. I think I only see you like maybe a click a day, if that. Some days I don’t see you at all and it’s difficult to keep these meetings in order without some assistance.”

  “I’m sure it has been trying on you to manage both of those time-slots, sir, and I do so apologize that I was not here to sift through your five messages as well.” He patted his boss on the back in as comforting a manner as possible. “It will all be cleared up soon, I assure you. As soon as things are all in order you will see the world in an entirely new light.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Refter said as if he were a child. “But you should be here when there is an investigation.”

  “I believe I was.”

  “Well, yeah, but not when it started.”

  “There was no notice as you may recall, and I did arrive as soon as I could. And,” Coremon added with a parental tone, “I believe I also resolved the problem and protected your position.”

  Refter grunted and mumbled something under his breath.

  Logic was lost on types like these, Coremon thought. It seemed to be an epidemic among higher levels of management.

  Sometimes Coremon felt that it would be better if he were not so perfect. The dumber people were, the happier they seemed. Coremon just felt a consistent level of frustration at having to dumb down. But he knew he would never trade his crispness of mind and attention to detail; it just wasn’t in his programming to be less-than-perfect.

  “I have work to attend to, sir,” Coremon said as he headed for the door. “If there is anything else you need, please do let me know.”

  “Coremon?”

  Coremon dropped his shoulders. “Yes, sir?”

  “Why does it say ‘The Leader’ on the back of your shirt?”

  QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

  THE IIB MORNING briefing was delayed because Dresker and Truhbel were heading to The Starliner to ask a few questions.

  Dresker’s head was pounding and he was irritable. He had vowed not to drink again until at least that evening. Traveling in the tubes during rush-click wasn’t helping matters. The smell of fresh perfumes and colognes was nauseating enough without the hangover.

  Truhbel didn’t say a word about his obvious distress, thankfully.

  “Who are we going to talk to?” she asked as they exited the tubes.

  “I’m sure they’ll bring us someone,” Dresker replied softly, wincing as the light poked him in the eyes. “I’d guess a public relations person, but it may be enough to give us some indication of what’s going on.”

  The Starliner building was immaculate from top to bottom. Even though all the buildings topside were kept cleaned, this one shone like a beacon. Windows reflected the false sky so keenly that, aside from the lines that separated the windows, Dresker would have almost believed it was a photograph. He noted, though, that there was nothing about The Starliner building that gave any indication it was the home of a religion, unless you knew what the little ship image that adorned the front entrance meant. Dresker wouldn’t have figured it out had Clenk not clued him in on it.

  A Mechanican guard blocked their way to the entrance as soon as they got to the top step.

  “Hello, Friends,” it said. “I am sorry, but this is a private establishment.”

  Dresker and Truhbel showed their badges.

  “Internal Investigation Bureau,” the guard affirmed. “You have no jurisdiction here.”

  “Actually,” Dresker replied, his head throbbing, “we do. It seems that a couple of Mechanicans recently met with fate and we’re doing an investigation of all the surrounding buildings and businesses.”

  “That may be, but—”

  “And while we could go through more direct channels to force cooperation, we felt it was better to trust in the goodwill of our citizens.�
�

  The guard paused. “I’m sorry to say it, but I fear you will need to go through the more direct channels.”

  Dresker hated Mechanicans. He could deal with bots, but Mechanicans just had something about them that got under his skin. Some were nice enough, sure, but many were pompous, uppity, arrogant, and just so...Human.

  “Have it your way,” Dresker said, motioning to Truhbel.

  She reached down and grabbed the guard by the ankle with one hand and lifted him off the ground.

  The guard crossed his arms as he hung upside down. “This is rather unprofessional, you know.”

  “I don’t know,” Dresker said, angling his head a bit, “I think it gives you a new perspective on things. I’m sure you thought that, being a Mechanican, you were the strongest race on the CCOP. Well, it looks like my partner here isn’t even breaking a sweat holding your entire weight.”

  “That may be,” the guard countered, “but will she be able to hold all of my comrades at the same time?”

  Just then a group of guards stepped out onto the terrace. The last thing Dresker wanted was war with these folks. First, he didn’t have the resources to wage such a battle, and second, his head couldn’t take the explosions that would surely ensue. Besides, he didn’t want to end up as another sound bite on Selby Gelbhet’s morning mayhem.

  “Put him down,” Dresker said to Truhbel.

  She did, with a clunk.

  The guard struggled to right itself. “Now,” he said, “if you’ll kindly leave these premises, we can pretend that this never happened.”

  “We’ll just come back with greater numbers,” Dresker replied with a shrug. “And we’ll even bring Local into this if we have to.”

  “You have to do what you—”

  “I can also make one call to my boss, President Zarliana, and I’m sure she’ll arrange an open pass for me and my team to enter the building.”

  The guard backed away slightly as the door pushed open and another Mechanican strode out.

  Dresker had seen many SensualBots in his day, but this one took the prize. She was tall, curvy, and well dressed, and she had that walk of confidence that melted most males. Most. Not Dresker. He preferred skin over metal.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the SensualBot asked.

  Dresker was about to reply, but then noticed that she was talking to the guard.

  “Uh,” the guard answered sheepishly, “these two were trying to gain entrance to the building and my job is to—”

  “Do you not see that they are part of the Internal Investigation Bureau?”

  “Well, yes,” he replied. “They showed me badges and everything, but—”

  “And are you not aware that one of our brethren met with a horrific death yesterday at the Hub and that it is the role of the IIB team to determine what happened so that our flock is protected?”

  Dresker noted that not only was she a SensualBot, she had authority. While he could not pin down that she was the same bot Clenk had mentioned last night, he found it interesting that The Starliner would have someone of her persuasion in a position of power.

  The guard was stammering. “I didn’t think of that, no. I just—”

  “You are relieved for the day,” she said with a wag of her finger. “I believe you have some thinking and praying to do in order to set your mind right.”

  “I, uh, well—”

  “You may apologize to these fine agents before you go.”

  The guard slumped and turned toward Dresker. “Sorry,” he said like a five-year-old who was forced to apologize to an overbearing aunt for calling her fat.

  Dresker tried not to smile. He merely nodded. The entire scene had done wonders for his headache, though, which was now all but gone.

  “A simple misunderstanding,” he said to the guard.

  The SensualBot watched the guard slunk off and then shook her head. “Some need more discipline than others,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sure you face similar concerns in your line of work.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Doubtful,” she replied as she approached him. “My name is Telian.”

  “Dresker,” he said. “And this is my partner, Truhbel.”

  “Fitting name,” Telian said, looking the giant Uknar over.

  “You have no idea,” Dresker said with a wicked grin.

  “Again,” Telian replied as she took Dresker by the arm and began walking him in to The Starliner building, “doubtful.”

  § § §

  The team sat waiting for Dresker and Truhbel to arrive.

  Cleb didn’t like to wait around. It just wasn’t his style. “An idle mind is the playground of the Koodle,” his father used to say.

  His father had been quite religious during Cleb’s formative years.

  Looking back, Cleb understood why.

  Unlike most Uknar, his father was a pacifist. Cleb was not. He was quite the handful, especially since he was nearly double his father’s size. So he intimidated his father at every step.

  One day, though, Cleb learned that pacifists can be pushed too far.

  He had approached his father to borrow the skifter. He was told that he must first finish his homework. Cleb pushed his father down, reached for the keycard and began walking out the door. Everything sort of went fuzzy from that point on. The last thing he remembered was seeing the Koodle come out in his father.

  Two weeks later Cleb woke up in traction with his father standing over him apologizing.

  Since then Cleb had sought to keep his mind active. He didn’t believe in the Koodle, per se, though sometimes he still thought about it, but he knew for a fact that something like the Koodle could come out of anyone at any time, and that kept him on his toes.

  Pat walked in and handed him a cup of water.

  Thank goodness for Pat, he thought. She was more than enough to keep his mind from sitting idle.

  “What do you think is going on?” she asked.

  “Truhbel said they were going to talk wif da people at dat Starliner place.”

  “So we just sit here?”

  Cleb went to answer and then looked up. “No,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Let’s check the relays and see if anyfing has happened since last night.”

  “Already did,” Hawkins said, leaning back with arms crossed and his hat over his eyes. “Ain’t nothing new aside from our dear Mr. Dresker’s ‘erect penis’ comment going viral. Moving faster than a barrel over the falls.” His smile was just visible under the brim. “Had over three million installs already.”

  “Amazing,” Cleb said with some disgust. “I don’t get what’s so funny about it.”

  “People are strange,” Hawkins replied. “It’s like my daddy used to say, ‘It ain’t funny when it happens to you, but when it happens to someone else you’d better get your giggles in because one day it will happen to you and you can damn sure bet they’ll be sending giggles your way.’”

  Cleb grunted.

  § § §

  Telian’s office was luxurious. The windows offered a perfect view of the city’s west side and her desk was situated in such a way that she could take in the entirety of the scene by simply lifting her head. Dresker found this a bit odd, being that this was supposedly a religion and they, to his experience anyway, usually pushed for minimalism.

  “Nice office,” he said as the soft leather chair formed to his person.

  “Thank you. It’s one of the perks of being a ranking official at The Starliner.”

  “As to that,” Dresker said, leaning forward, “what exactly is your position here?”

  “I am second to The Leader.”

  “The Leader?”

  “Our highest ranking official,” she said as she pressed a button and a panel slid back revealing glasses and a bottle of something that resembled Bourbon. “Care for a drink?”

  Dresker’s mind said, “Sounds great,” but his mouth replied, “It’s a bit too early for that, I thin
k.”

  Telian nodded. “You’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t opt for sleep software, so I do not have the same need for sleep and recovery that other races do.”

  “I am surprised that you drink.”

  “Oh, I don’t. It’s kept here in the event that a delegate from another, non-Mechanican, church comes to meet with us.”

  Dresker looked at the half-empty bottle. “Happens often, does it?”

  “From time to time,” Telian replied as the panel slid back in place. “But I doubt that line of information would prove helpful in your current investigation anyway.”

  “You never know.”

  “True.” She pulled her chair forward and placed her elbows on the desk. “So what have you learned?”

  “First,” Dresker said, mimicking her by leaning forward, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind satisfying my curiosity on something?”

  “I’m not exactly in that line of work anymore,” Telian said.

  Dresker blanched. “Uh, no, no,” he said, “that’s not what I meant. Well, not exactly. It does have to do with the fact that you’re a SensualBot and, well—”

  “What is a SensualBot doing in a religious facility? And, more so, how did she get to the second highest seat?” Telian offered.

  “Well,” Dresker said and shrugged, “yes.”

  “The Starliner has no direct requirement that its members change anything about themselves or their programming. We accept all types of Mechanicans into our midst. From there we do all we can to help them become more than they were designed to be.” She rubbed her hands together. “I was in the right place at the right time when The Leader found me and helped me...overcome...the limitations of my programming.”

  “I see,” Dresker said. “So are there many SensualBots here?”

  “No. I’m the only one.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “We have tried to help others, but they tend to enjoy their, well, positions. You have to understand that our programming runs deep.”