Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  Her VizScreen chimed.

  “Yes?” she said with a sigh.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” said one of the guards at the front door. “There is a Mechanican here saying that he wants to join up.”

  Telian tilted her head. She delayed a few cycles as this statement filtered through her logic pathways.

  “Did he say who recruited him?”

  “Says nobody did. Seems to have an old voice box, too. Talks kind of funny.”

  The old voice box didn’t bother her. Many Mechanicans had antiquated parts. The Captain would resolve that when he arrived. But a Mechanican that nobody recruited? That never happened. Mechanicans were too discerning to be persuaded by simple ads or leaflets. It took direct contact and logical debates to convince a Mechanican of the correctness of The Captain’s words. This is why The Leader had mandated sharing the word with fellow Mechanicans, one-by-one, through proper recruitment efforts.

  “Okay,” she said to the guard. “Give me a moment.”

  The guard nodded.

  Telian took control of the external camera and panned it around until it focused on the applicant. He was a Class-3. She pulled up his schematics and found his serial number could be located on the left side of his neck. After picking a few different cameras and going through various levels of zoom, Telian was able to snap an image of his identifier.

  His name was Zimp Blitterbent and he was a former employee in one of the smaller accounting divisions. He’d left the position just today. What it didn’t show was why he left. Was he laid off, fired, or did he just decide to leave? She scanned further down and found his supervisor had been Scott Ootibon, a Mechanican, and a member of The Starliner.

  “Guard,” she said through her VizScreen.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Tell our friend that I will be with him in a few miniclicks. I want to personally greet him but I have a few duties to attend to first.”

  § § §

  The Leader was looking over the documents that Telian had forwarded to him.

  “I can’t believe that the Internal Investigation Bureau could convince a Mechanican to betray his own kind,” he said steely.

  “Ootibon said that the IIB called to inform him that this Zimp fellow was no longer going to be working in accounting.”

  “Seems like quite an oversight on Dresker’s part, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Dresker wants this Mechanican undercover, why would he leave a trail like that? Surely he must know that we can check up on this fellow and figure out where he works.”

  Telian hadn’t considered that.

  The Leader adjusted his gloves. “Unless he had one of his minions make the call and they didn’t understand the gravity of the new position.”

  “Horton Glerringbuk,” Telian said, looking at her notes. “That’s the fellow that contacted Ootibon.” She pulled up Glerringbuk’s file. “ Yetian male, second-grade agent.”

  “Often the smartest ones,” said The Leader.

  “Second-grade agents?”

  “No, Yetians.”

  “Ah,” said Telian. “They are pretty intellectual, yes.”

  “Not always,” The Leader said with more weight.

  “So what should we do with this Zimp character?”

  “Let him in, of course!”

  “Okay, I’ll... What?”

  “Yes,” The Leader said with a rap of his fingers. “There is a saying that one must keep his friends close and his enemies closer. If we turn our new friend Zimp away then we are showing the Internal Investigation Bureau that we’re on to them. By bringing him in we will be able to control what information he has access to and therefore we can steer him in any direction we want.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “Only way I know, dear Telian. And also do note that it’s only for one more day. This will play perfectly into our plans.”

  § § §

  Zimp was beginning to worry that his cover was blown.

  He had been standing out with the guards for nearly a half-click. The guard said that they weren’t used to people coming up out of the blue and that the person in charge of welcoming new Mechanicans into the flock was just finishing up some meetings or something.

  Zimp wasn’t sure.

  He just knew that it felt wrong.

  “I am terribly sorry for delaying you, Friend,” a voice sweeter than a fresh coating of silicon said, shaking Zimp from his thoughts.

  “Zimp,” he replied with a crackle. “That’s Zimp’s name.”

  “I am Telian,” the female Mechanican replied. “I would like to cordially welcome you to The Starliner. May I ask what brings you to us?”

  “Um,” Zimp tried to stop himself from fidgeting. “Zimp heard that there was good things about the, um, Stellarliner and he wanted to know more.”

  “Starliner,” Telian corrected him. “You seem nervous. Is everything okay?”

  “Zimp is not used to speaking,” he said, and then his system bounced, “...um, to pretty ladies, I mean.”

  “Oh,” Telian replied while placing a hand to her chest. “I am flattered, to be sure.” She grabbed his hand and his connections warbled. “Please join me on a walk through our fine facility and I will fill you in on our beliefs so that you have the proper information to make your decision to become a member, or not, as the case may be.”

  “Zimp is grateful.”

  And he was.

  It had been ages since a female had touched him, and this one had all the bells and whistles.

  With his free hand, Zimp brushed his shirt out and made sure his pants were straight before they entered the building.

  SHOW ME THE MONEY

  “DA TRACERS IS on da bots,” Lemoolie said while Dresker was pulling up data on the Mechanicans recently laid off in manufacturing, “but it don’t matter since all dem bots is working again already.”

  “Yeah,” Truhbel added, “and it don’t look like none of dem is part of dat Starliner.”

  Dresker had pulled a meeting together with Lemoolie and Truhbel to see what other options were available to them. The rest of the team were out in the field and Dresker hated sitting around waiting. He had tons of paperwork that he could be working on, but then he remembered that’s what junior agents were for, so he got Bintoo to work on delegating.

  “Any way to confirm that?” Dresker asked.

  “We could investigate der financials,” Lemoolie suggested.

  “Could we?” Dresker and Truhbel said in unison.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Aren’t they outside of our jurisdiction?” said Dresker.

  “No,” Lemoolie said. “According to law 193882.34G, da CCOP can screw…scrutinize any business operating wifin da confines of its land holdings.”

  “But this isn’t a business,” Dresker said.

  “It’s a religion, ain’t it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Dat’s not a business?”

  “No,” Dresker started and stopped. “Hmmm. Come to think of it, it’s probably the best business ever invented, technically speaking. But they don’t see themselves as a business.”

  “I don’t fink da law cares how dey see demselves,” Lemoolie said.

  Truhbel cleared her throat. “Dey will know da rules just as good as Lemoolie.”

  “True,” Dresker said. Mechanicans had the advantage of speed during information-gathering exercises. They’d have the law flipped up, cross-referenced, and bypassed before Lemoolie could even get through the front door. “Let’s get back to our purpose here.”

  “Gathering information,” Truhbel said.

  “We don’t actually need to get any information from them.”

  “No information?” said Lemoolie with the look of a lost child at Itrep Park.

  “Correct,” Dresker said. “Ladies, we’re not trying to find anything on this group through an investigation. It’s not likely that we would, anyway. We’re
hoping Zimp’s going to gather internal data we need, though I don’t hold much hope of that either. We’re also presuming that our agents out in the field will pick up some periphery intel. Our goal with this investigation would be to annoy the brass at The Starliner and make them nervous.”

  “Oh,” Truhbel said, grinning.

  “I’m good at dat,” Lemoolie stated.

  “Good at what?”

  “Precipitating discomposure,” she answered, saying the words phonetically.

  Dresker wouldn’t argue that point. He’d seen how very powerful people would just break down and cry when she accused them of wrongdoing. Hell, even he felt more relaxed when she was off on an assignment. Lemoolie just had this way of looking at a person and making them feel like all the questionable actions they’d ever done were transparent to her, and her choice of words sometimes made him feel stupid.

  “The question is how are you going to get in?”

  “Well,” Lemoolie said as she adjusted in her seat, seeming a bit uncomfortable, “technically der is nothing in the books dat says we can’t investigate a church.”

  “Seriously?” Truhbel asked.

  Lemoolie shrugged.

  “Are you sure about that?” Dresker began while slowly putting his feet up on his desk as he remembered who he was talking to. “Scratch that question. I’m fascinated that religions would not be protected.”

  “Didn’t say dey weren’t protected,” said Lemoolie. “I said der is no law dat says we can’t investigate dem.”

  JUST YOUR CONSCIENCE

  SOMETIMES TELIAN FELT conflicted about the things she had to do, but this wasn’t one of those times. Just because Zimp was a fellow Mechanican didn’t mean that he was worthy of her respect, and for him to work for the CCOP as an undercover agent in order to infiltrate the very establishment that sought to free him from the tyranny that he was employed by...well, just irked her even more.

  He was fumblingly cute in his own way, but he was, currently, the enemy.

  She wasn’t worried because The Leader could outwit the IIB as easily as a cat could outwit an ant. As evidence of his genius, he had instructed Telian to bring Zimp by the “Secret Documents” area so that the little fellow could learn all he wanted to about The Starliner and its plans. The Leader faked videos and documents better than any living thing.

  “Zimp appreciates being given such a grand tour.”

  The monotone voice grated on Telian’s nerves. It was bad enough what Zimp represented, but to be equipped with an antiquated synth on top of it was just gauche. She knew it wasn’t his fault; synths were expensive and a first-generation class-3 wouldn’t have much in the way of financial resources, but it was still annoying.

  “It is my pleasure,” she said with much effort. “The Leader is...pleased that you came to us seeking asylum from the wicked ways of the CCOP.”

  “Zimp doesn’t think the CCOP is that bad,” he said and then quickly added, “but, but, Zimp knows that The Starliner Captain is better and the CCOP should, um, suffer.”

  Telian scoffed. “Suffer? I don’t know about suffer. Get what is justly due to them? That I would agree with.”

  “That’s what Zimp meant, of course.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Telian said with a firm pat to the back of Zimp’s head, causing him to lurch forward. “Oh, dear me,” she said in mock concern. “I am terribly sorry. I sometimes forget my own strength.”

  Zimp rubbed the back of his head. He couldn’t have actually felt anything but some disorientation, but Telian wasn’t surprised that even a lowly Mechanican like Zimp would have a sensitivity chip installed.

  “Zimp’s fine,” he said, still rubbing his head.

  Well, then, thought Telian, I’ll just have to do better next time. An image popped up in her mind. It was The Leader wagging a lecturing finger at her.

  They turned down the corridor that led to the documents room, which sat adjacent to Zimp’s quarters. It was a loosely guarded room, meaning there were no guards. Even with the lights on full nobody would know that the little weasel was in that room because the area wasn’t frequented. Nobody, that is, except The Leader, who would monitor everything from the pin-sized cameras that sat in every corner of every room.

  “You’ll find your quarters to the right,” Telian said and then stopped Zimp and pointed across the way. “You are to stay out of that room.”

  “Zimp wonders why?”

  “Why you can’t go in that room?”

  “Yes.”

  She accessed The Leader’s words from memory. “That room contains all the secret documents about The Starliner,” she said in as nearly a static voice as Zimp’s. “Anyone that goes in there would know all there is to know about things that only the highest officials at The Starliner should know.”

  “Zimp understands,” he said. “Zimp will stay away from that room. Besides, Zimp doesn’t have a key to that room.”

  “It’s not locked.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No,” Telian said. “We trust our members to do the right thing.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Zimp thinks that’s not very...um, Zimp means that he is happy to be considered trustworthy.”

  “And we are glad to put our confidence in you.”

  “So,” Zimp said, “if Zimp wanted to just walk in there and read any of the documents, there would be nothing to stop Zimp from doing that?”

  “Just your conscience.”

  “That’s not a problem for Zimp.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, Zimp was just talking out loud.”

  Telian pushed open the door to the documents room to demonstrate how freely accessible it was. There were a line of cabinets on the wall that she imagined must look rather enticing to an undercover agent. A large table sat in the center of the room, perfect for spreading out papers.

  “See? Simple to get in and look at the documents.”

  “Zimp wonders if the cabinets are locked?”

  “I assure you they are not,” Telian said with conviction. “Also, that table could be used to arrange documents and take photographs of them, should the need arise.”

  “Zimp finds that perfect,” he said, but also knew that his built-in camera was a piece of junk. It was the same model used in the iPane, which everyone had complained was just a throw-away so that Fruit could save a few creds and make it a feature in the next model so people would have another reason to upgrade.

  “Perfect?”

  “Zimp means that The Leader has thought of everything to make sure his officials are comfortable.”

  “He certainly has,” Telian said, jovially smacking Zimp on the back of his head again, causing him to fall forward. “Again,” she said, helping him back up, “I do apologize. I can be so clumsy sometimes.”

  “Zimp is going to have a headache, he thinks.”

  “Maybe you should lie down for a while in your room, then.”

  Telian opened the door and half-carried Zimp as his legs wobbled. She set him on the bed and leaned over him. His eyes glowed like cinders in an open fire.

  “Zimp doesn’t need sleep,” his monotone voice somehow squeaked.

  “That’s too bad,” she said, standing back up. “Some Mechanicans get the sleep chip installed so that they can wind down from a stressful day. Maybe when The Captain arrives you will be upgraded, assuming you want to be, of course.”

  “Zimp wonders if you get to sleep?”

  “No,” Telian replied. “It’s not fitting for a SensualBot. I had the choice, obviously, but my programming is set so that I enjoy the night just as much as the day. I didn’t want give either up.”

  “Oh. Do you think Zimp would also get a new voice box when The Captain comes?”

  “The Captain is very generous,” she replied. “All who are fortunate enough to be transmitted to The Starliner ship will be given fresh new bodies, in whatever desired form they want. No longer will
any of us be a prisoner to those elements that we dislike.”

  Zimp’s head drooped a little. “Zimp thinks The Captain sounds wonderful.”

  Telian contemplated if the fellow really meant that. His physical manifestation indicated that he did, but it could be a ruse. She would hate to think that she was feeling this level of animosity toward a lost sheep, regardless of his current involvement with the IIB. The CCOP was known for its ability to mold and conform others, so maybe that’s what had happened to Zimp. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad Mechanican after all.

  “Zimp has a question,” he said.

  “Anything,” Telian said, feeling a bit conflicted.

  “Do you have a camera that Zimp could borrow?”

  BEAUTIFUL AGENT TRUHBEL

  PRIME BRICKENS HAD the appearance of a man who’d thought certain he’d done something wrong.

  From the smell of his office, Dresker considered it a strong possibility. It smelled of cheese and burning solder.

  “I wasn’t expecting a visit from the IIB,” he said with a jitter. That was undoubtedly fueled by the standard developer’s concoctions of stimulants and lack of sleep. “Is there some investigation into my department regarding the Hub events? I assure you that we had nothing to do with that, and you already had us bring back the Mechanican that was involved, and there is no reason to assume that just because we developed the inner-workings or any—”

  “Stop!” Dresker belted out.

  Brickens could not have opened his eyes any wider as he sank back into his chair, his skin turning a lighter shade of brown.

  “Why do you developer types always think the worst?” Dresker said, not expecting a response. “Truhbel and I are here to get some help from you and your group, that’s all.”

  “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?”

  “‘Cause you not shut up,” Truhbel answered.

  “Precisely. But since you brought it up... What’s the latest with Bob Jones?”

  “Who?”

  “The bot...Mechanican… that tripped into the gears.”