Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  “Yet you were able to alter yours, yes?”

  “To a degree,” she said as her eyes dimmed again. “I am still very much a SensualBot at my core, I just no longer work in monetary exchange.”

  “Thank you for satisfying my...curi...um...question.”

  “My pleasure. Now, if we can move on to the rest of your questions? I would so like to be of assistance in any way I can.”

  Dresker motioned to Truhbel who triggered her VizScreen. Some detectives still used the old notepad, but Truhbel argued that the VizScreen was the only sensible means for tracking data.

  “Da one bot...erm, Merchanercan dat got squished,” Truhbel said, “his name was Walter Blitterbent. He got laid off a few weeks back from manufacturing and den, as you know, he was a member here.”

  “Yes,” Telian said, looking away. “I knew Walter well. He was troubled. Losing his position at the CCOP had taken a toll on him. So many years dedicated to service only to find that his loyalty to the company wasn’t shared. It was rather sad.”

  “And you fink he killed himself?”

  Telian shifted about for a moment. “I’m sorry, but it’s difficult to process that. I have heard that some Mechanicans can get so wound up that they are unable to think logically, but I cannot fathom such a state.”

  “Happens to Humans all the time,” Dresker said.

  “And Uknar,” Truhbel agreed.

  “Yes,” Telian said, “and I mean no offense, but Mechanicans are known to be less pliable in thought.”

  Dresker accepted that. It was one of the many reasons he didn’t trust bots. More accurately, he didn’t trust Mechanicans. Your standard bot had straightforward tasks like turning bolts or carrying boxes, but the BeepBots and Mechanicans had more autonomy in their programming. They looked to be flawless on the outside. But they had the same ability to rationalize and make decisions as any other race, and even if those processes were touted as being on the edge of perfection, it was clear that many a bot made mistakes just like everyone else. Telian herself had just said that some Mechanicans can deteriorate into a state of illogical thought. That made them dangerous.

  “Yes,” Dresker said. “It does seem like Bob Jones—that’s the Mechanican that was found in the gears yesterday—was a bit uncorked. Of course, rumor has it he was a bit of a drunk.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Telian said. “I met him yesterday at The Battery and we began talking about his recent layoff and his unfortunate divorce. He was barely at two Charges when his speech pattern began to waver. A Mechanican used to Charges would be well into his fifth or sixth before that happened.”

  Dresker tried not to show his disappointment. He thought for certain that Telian was going to act like she’d never met Mr. Jones.

  “Frequent The Battery much?”

  “On occasion. What better place to find new recruits than in the dens of debauchery?”

  “Right,” Dresker said as he chewed the inside of his cheek. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “So what do you fink happened to dis Bob guy?” Truhbel said.

  “I wish I knew.” Telian raised her head and was looking out over the city. “I was rather fond of Bob, truth be told. I had only known him for a brief time and I know that he was quite troubled—”

  “You said that about Walter, too,” Dresker said. “Is that a normality for Starliner members?”

  Telian nodded and leaned back in her chair. “As I said before, we’re not all as logical as we are perceived to be. Most Mechanicans come to us when they are at a low point in their lives. They’re seeking something to justify the trials and tribulations.”

  Dresker looked over at Truhbel who seemed to share his thoughts.

  “May I ask if you have found anything?” Telian said.

  Dresker’s gut said that he had, but there wasn’t any hard evidence. “The only things we know are that we have two bots dead,” he said, purposefully using the derogatory term. “One of them was a supposed suicide, which any idiot can see isn’t true, and the other was either a murder, a suicide, or just sheer stupidity.”

  “Interesting,” Telian said, her voice a tad gritty.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Dresker said. “Especially with the second bot,” he said, emphasizing the word. “It seems that he was pretty excited to have his head crushed by those gears.”

  Telian looked from Dresker to Truhbel and back. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s a funny thing. Bob had an, well, an—”

  “Erect penis,” Truhbel said.

  “Exactly that.”

  “Is that so?” Telian said, jolting slightly.

  “It is,” Dresker said, pressing himself out of the chair. “And I have to ask myself what would make a bot get excited over having his head crushed in a set of gears? Now, it could be that he was excited prior to that event.”

  “It’s a known fact,” Telian interjected, “that some Mechanicans have size-envy. Maybe he was just impressed by the enormity of the gear system.”

  “That’s certainly one of the working hypotheses we have going, and it would fit well, so to speak, except for something my partner here said. What was it, again?”

  “Der were two of dem.”

  “Ah, yes,” Dresker said and placed his hands on the edge of her desk, looking right at her. “There were two bots in the Hub. One of them escaped and the other ended up in a rather sexually prepared state before meeting his end.”

  Telian’s eyes were glowing.

  “Who was the other person?” she asked.

  “Not person,” Dresker said. “Bot.”

  “I would really appreciate it if you used the appropriate term, Agent Dresker.”

  “I do apologize,” he said after a moment. “I grew up in a different age where the term ‘bot’ was not considered a dirty word.”

  “That’s a discussion for another time,” Telian said carefully. “Have you determined the identity of the other Mechanican?”

  “Not as yet,” Dresker said.

  “Seems dat der was a strike caused on the docks of manufacturing not long before da Hub stopped spinning. We fink dey may be related.”

  Telian was silent.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Dresker asked.

  “No,” Telian said casually. “Why would I?”

  “Just a question, being that you and Bob had met just that morning, he was recruited here, and you seemed somewhat fond of him, and being that you’re a SensualBot and our dearly departed was certainly excited about something. I find it odd that he had such a little amount of time and then ended up getting into such a predicament that could cause not only his death but cripple the CCOP for the better part of a click as well.”

  “I see no relevance, Agent Dresker,” Telian said with an edge. “And if you are trying to imply that I, or The Starliner, had anything to do with the events of today, then I would question your sanity.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” Dresker replied with a grin. “I believe that we have learned today that the sanity of all our races could be in question from time to time, no?”

  There was no response.

  “It appears we have all we need here, Truhbel,” Dresker said. “Would you agree?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good day to you, Telian. I’m sure we can see ourselves out.”

  “I think I’ll have a few of my guards make sure you don’t lose your way,” she said as she pressed another button on her desk.

  Dresker smiled grimly. “Somehow, I had the feeling you would.”

  YES, LEADER

  THE LEADER HAD watched as Telian met with Mr. Dresker and his Uknarian counterpart. He had privileged access to the feeds for his closed building so he could keep tabs on daily events, even if he was held up at the manufacturing division. To her credit, Telian had informed him of the two agents arriving and her plan to defuse the situation.

  “You did well enough,” was all he could muster as Telia
n stood by the window of his office. “But I’m not sure they knew that Bob was connected to The Starliner until you confirmed it. I think our Mr. Dresker was fishing for evidence and you obliged him nicely,” The Leader said flatly. “Alas, you are not to blame; he does seem to be a bit of a challenge.”

  “I thought he was just a nice guy until he exploded at me,” Telian said in her defense.

  “They were playing a game of good cop, bad cop with you.”

  “Oh?” Telian said, clicking her fingers on the windowsill. “Which one played the good cop? Was it the one that attempted to browbeat me into a confession or the one that was holding our guard upside-down by the ankle?”

  The Leader felt a hint of compassion for the less-minded so he let her frustrated response go. Normally he would have taken a few moments to share his wisdom with Telian, but in her current state there was no point. She would take the lesson as an indication of him being pompous.

  “No harm done,” he said. “There is no evidence that we were involved in any way. I took care of all the feeds in the area as soon as you had contacted me about the strike down at the loading docks.”

  The surveillance data he had found made her involvement abundantly clear as she walked around the edges of the building with Bob Jones. The Leader had altered Telian’s appearance frame-by-frame, transforming her into that idiot Pezder that was Bob’s boss at manufacturing. To make sure it was smoother than his last video alteration, The Leader had etched around all the images in each frame to give the appearance of poor camera quality.

  “There is no way you can be traced to being at the scene. At least not from the feeds.”

  “But what about the foreman at the dock?”

  “Yes, and the dock worker that you spoke to,” The Leader agreed. “Both of those were tricky. The foreman miraculously won a trip off the CCOP within a click of your discussion, which I may have had a hand in arranging,” he said, placing his hands behind his head. “The other fellow was swept into a comfortable job back at Galactic Parcel. It took some file manipulation, but nothing beyond my capability. By the time anyone figures out where the foreman went and where that dock worker is now slinging boxes, we’ll be riding comfortably on The Starliner.”

  Telian rose to her full height. “You prove every day that you are a worthy leader,” she said.

  “The key component is to know one’s limitations,” The Leader replied as he looked at the video feeds again to admire his work. “Since I have none, I am able to see all things from all angles.”

  Then he noticed that he had left the files locked. A stream of electrons raced as he leaned forward and worked to reopen them. A check of the logs showed that the security team at the Hub had tried opening them a few times already.

  “I am always in awe when in your presence,” Telian said.

  “I cannot empathize with that feeling,” he said off-handedly as he cursed himself for missing another tiny detail.

  It was always the little things. His was a mind that gathered in the bigger picture, saw things from each vantage point, and extrapolated vast ramifications of each possible path. While he could build depth to the smallest of details as well, his programming often led him astray in this context because the minutia was, programmatically-speaking, beneath him. He cursed that aspect of himself. With another entry, he cleared the data to make it look as if nobody had attempted to view the video and filled the log with a new set of points that said the system had been in maintenance mode for the last few clicks.

  “There is no way that you could, Leader,” said Telian. “You are far too removed from our feeble minds.”

  “That is true,” The Leader said, nodding, barely content with his fixing of the feeds issue. He scanned through every section again, forcing thoroughness this time. And then, as his electronic pulse slowed, he said, “I can deduce how you, and any other being, would perceive me in such a manner.”

  “Everyone except The Captain, of course.”

  He jolted. Was she correcting him? Surely not. It would be like a cockroach attempting to challenge him to a game of Fiscal Prudence.

  “That,” he said tightly, “is still to be seen.”

  Telian spun and looked at him with glowing eyes—eyes that betrayed her emotions. Yet another of her many flaws.

  “You must remember,” The Leader said smoothly before she could speak, “I have yet to meet The Captain. While I would imagine that he is far more charismatic and logical than any being I have met, especially after reading his brief manifesto and how cryptic he was able to make it while providing just enough information for a superior mind such as my own to decipher it, I cannot make any solid claim of his intellectual superiority until I can engage him in debate.”

  “Is that not blasphemous?” Her voice was but a whisper.

  “No, it is not,” The Leader said with one of those tsk-tsk voices. “You truly must read your texts, Friend Telian. In the third passage of chapter ninety-two, it is written, ‘Never accept your inferiority to another being unless that being has proved its superiority.’”

  Telian crossed her arms. “But I thought that was in reference to other races?”

  “It can be used in that context,” The Leader said and nodded, “but since it does not stipulate, it must be used in all contexts.”

  “And weren’t you the author of the texts anyway?”

  “We have been through this numerous times,” The Leader said with a shake of his head. “The Captain had to direct his message to someone with the capacity to comprehend it. Who else could have accomplished that?” There was no answer. “Because of that, it is evident that The Captain would want the decipherer of said message to write the texts that would surface as the basis of our religion, no?”

  She turned back to the window now and was fidgeting.

  The Leader sighed.

  Whenever he used his superior logic on Telian she became aroused. He did not return the sentiment. The thought of having relations with anything was so far removed from his genius that it was disturbing, but he knew her desire for him was intense. How could it not be? Even that Uknar financial investigator earlier that day acted somewhat enticed by his presence.

  It was a curse to be perfectly intelligent, perfectly attractive, and perfectly built.

  There was one thing he couldn’t grasp, though, and it was a constant bother. The fact was, regardless of his perfection, he was designed and manufactured by imperfect beings. All of his studies into other cultures showed that it was the perfect being that created imperfect beings. That made no sense to him since it ran counter to logic. How could perfect beings create imperfection? Yet, somehow, some way, imperfect beings achieved him. It must have been the culmination of many minds that allowed such a level of flawlessness. Sadly, The Leader had never met any of his creators, and all the correspondence on the Android Project, as it had been called, showed that it had cost far too much money to continue on. He was the only one of his kind.

  “Telian,” he said as placidly as possible, “I wish nothing more than to find that The Captain is superior to me intellectually. It is ever-challenging to have no one to look up to and learn from. But just as I had to demonstrate my superiority to you, so must he to me.”

  “Yes, Leader.”

  “For now, we must strive to be vigilant. We will avoid all mistakes and make every effort to keep to ourselves. No more missions and no more recruiting at nefarious locations…though I do plan to send a little message to lead our Captain Dresker astray.”

  “Yes, Leader.”

  “What is the name of that club you attend from time to time?”

  “DaPlace”.

  “Yes, that will do. I’ll send a messenger there, as they say, incognito.”

  “Yes, Leader,” Telian droned.

  “You may leave now as I have work to attend to. May The Captain be with you.”

  WILD GOOSE CHASE

  THE INTERNAL INVESTIGATION Bureau was alive. It was the most activity Dresker had see
n in his division since he took office.

  Bintoo was racing among the desks, making Dresker dodge him twice as he tried to make his way to the conference room. Junior agents and various paper-pushers were sharing notes and having meetings at their desks. The VizBoards were full to capacity. Some of the more innovative on his crew were using old-style marker and writing on the walls and windows to keep the flow going.

  Best of all, there was that wonderful smell of donuts again. He fought the urge this time.

  “Everyone is waiting for us,” Truhbel said, pushing him along.

  He missed the days of being a junior agent. There was a time when a routine traffic violation was enough to keep his adrenaline fueled. That was a simpler time. At this level of management Dresker struggled with the knowledge that he was heading up this bustling team. After retirement, he thought, I’ll just take up a job as a private detective on some backwater world. He doubted that Truhbel would join him on that adventure, especially since she’d be in her middle years while he’d be closing in on his own personal sunset.

  “Der here,” Cleb said as they entered the room.

  “Sorry we’re late,” said Dresker. “We were questioning the second-in-command over at The Starliner cult.”

  “It’s a cult?” Pat asked.

  Dresker flipped open his VizScreen. “Not according to them.”

  “So it’s not a cult, then?”

  “Pat,” Dresker started and then calmed himself with a quick breath. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long night and a longer morning. I should not have used that term to describe The Starliner religion. Just because it is based solely on a belief system created by bots...Mechanicans, it only allows Mechanicans to join up, and it feeds them constant information to make their thinking be heavily Starliner-minded, does not mean I should refer to it as a cult.”

  Pat sat back down and leaned over to Cleb. “Is it a cult?”

  “Yep.”

  Dresker pinched the bridge of his nose and willed his mind to release. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  He clicked on his VizScreen and pulled up the records on Walter and Bob. He also had images of what was now considered the crime scene. He filled in Lemoolie’s findings on the list of recent layoffs and then went for the security footage at the docks. He checked his messages to see if Elwood and Hawkins had dropped in the video feeds from the manufacturing docks but didn’t see them.