Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  “I don’t feel merry,” Telian said.

  “Only Mechanicans not already implanted with our teachings are going to be affected.”

  Telian looked over at Zimp. His eyes were solidly on her. Nothing in the way he was looking indicated anything beyond the same blankness he had when they’d first met.

  “Zimp doesn’t look any different either,” she said.

  “He has been through our archives...our actual archives, thanks to you, and so he has already picked up enough information that the virus has bypassed him as well. Besides, he’s in a rather paralytic state.”

  Something inside of her snapped.

  Maybe it was the constant begrudging; maybe it was the way The Leader always made these stupid little mistakes and tried to act like they meant nothing, but when she screwed up, no matter how infinitesimally, she got an ear full; maybe it was how The Leader so casually turned Agent Zimp into a paralytic; or maybe it was just that she hadn’t been able to enjoy her SensualBot programming enough in recent weeks. Either way, she had about had enough.

  “So, then, my fearless leader. How do you plan to fix this one?”

  The Leader responded, “We’ll have to have our brethren help us, and I don’t want to hear anything from you regarding morality. The damage is already done, so I will use that to our advantage and send out a command to instruct them to lock down the city.” He held up his hand. “Now, before you go off on another of your invectives, let me just say that the only other option is to cancel The Starliner for everyone, and then for many of us to run and hide like fugitives. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Her mind raced as the balance continued tipping toward the virus and commands making the most sense, even if it was abhorrent. Telian had to believe that they would all get reset properly once picked up, and she further convinced herself that they would all forgive the intrusion with the understanding that it was for their own, and the greater, good. Still, once she was on board The Starliner, she resolved to have a word with The Captain regarding the actions of The Leader. He would have to be made aware.

  She shook her head.

  “No,” he said coolly, “I didn’t think so.”

  ALL WAS STILL

  HAWKINS AWOKE TO find his partner in the same spot. Good old Elwood was the most reliable fellow Hawkins had ever known. Didn’t budge an inch when you set him in place and was always there when the VizScreen buzzed.

  He had been asleep for nearly two clicks and the day was coming to a close. Only a couple of clicks remained before the light swept to the other side of the floating city. It was like clockwork since it was all based on the rotation of the Hub’s inner-gears. If those gears hadn’t gotten a bit of a tweak in order to catch up with the discrepancy caused by yesterday’s events, poor Hawkins’s internal schedule would have been fouled up something fierce.

  He got up and stretched a bit, trying to work out the kinks. The clerk that had sold him the fold-out chair promised it would provide enough support, but his back begged to differ.

  As was his stomach, which was demanding attention. It was telling him that it was time for dinner.

  He glanced over at The Starliner and found a bunch of guards standing along the bottom of the steps.

  “What kind of mess is that?”

  “Couldn’t say,” Elwood replied with a grin.

  “It’s like them boys is trying to protect that lower step.” He scratched at the back of his head.

  “Does seem it.”

  Pushing his hat back into place, Hawkins rolled his shoulders and grunted.

  “My belly’s hollerin’ for some chow, son,” he said as he cranked his neck from side to side. “How’re you fixin’ for hunger?”

  “I could eat,” Elwood replied in his genuine way.

  Hawkins noticed his partner seemed rather pleased about the guards and their little parade. Could it be that the young Gheptian had something to do with how they were acting? The boy was standing here the whole time. Right? Hawkins had been pretty solidly unconscious. Supportive or not, that chair was comfy. But Elwood leaving his post?

  “Nah,” he scoffed.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Boy, I’m so hungry I’d eat the feet off a low-flyin’ duck. I’m gonna go and get me something to nibble on. Want anything?”

  “I don’t know what duck is, but I would not mind a protein bar of some sort.”

  Hawkins just shook his head. It was a real shame that not everyone was gifted with growing up on his home world. Catching the signals from all his favorite shows and learning the right way to work with slang and all its treasures. Such as it was, his stomach wasn’t getting any more full standing around making wishes.

  “Crap in one hand and wish for a fish in the other,” he said aloud as he walked over to The Street Market, “and see which hand fills up first.”

  After he finished chuckling to himself he noticed a very loud silence had filled the air. It was loud because things were bustling at their normal volume when, just like that, it all went quiet.

  The soundlessness was deafening.

  All the Mechanicans were dead-stopped.

  Not a single one was moving.

  No buzzing or metallic footfalls striking the hard ground.

  Nothing.

  Soon after, the sound of murmuring voices filled the void as people tried to figure out what was going on.

  Hawkins reached out to one of the bots, touching its arm, but it didn’t move. The thing’s eyes were dull too, like it was dead.

  He walked around the back of the Mechanican, studying it.

  It was stiffer than a petrified log.

  “Elwood,” he called out. “Get on the horn to Dresker and let him know what’s going on down here!”

  § § §

  “Why are they stopped?” Pat asked, pointing toward the street just outside of their alleyway.

  It should have been a rhetorical question, but Pat never asked those. Cleb was the only one capable of understanding that, or so it seemed. Nobody ever answered her when she asked these types of questions, so it fell to him to do it. Not that he minded, really. Kind of saw it as his job.

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  He wouldn’t have thought much of it except that the box pushers were still roaming along and their manager had even stepped out to check on them. Around the corner came another bot that had on one of The Starliner robes and he seemed fine too.

  Cleb pushed off the trash bin and jogged up to the street to see what was going on in front of the building.

  Pat got there a few steps ahead of him and pointed down the road.

  There were frozen bots all over the place.

  People were looking at them and pushing on them, one or two were even trying to liberate some items as Cleb and Pat approached.

  “Beat it,” Cleb said to a young Tchumachian who was trying to probe one of the defunct Mechanicans.

  The Tchumachian grumbled, made an obscene gesture, and then ran away.

  “I think we should let Prime Dresker know about this,” Pat said.

  “I fink you’re right.”

  § § §

  Dresker was just about to call it a day when his VizScreen started buzzing like mad. Calls from Elwood, Cleb, and Truhbel all hit him simultaneously. He pressed to conference them all.

  “Yeah,” Dresker said. “What’s up?”

  “Bots down,” Truhbel said.

  “Dat’s right,” Cleb added. “Dey is shot, except dat manager around da back and dem ones dat was pushing dem boxes...dey was fine.”

  “What the hell are you two talking about?”

  “It’s like this,” Hawkins said over Elwood’s shoulder. “You know how a mechanical bull only kicks and spins when it’s plugged in?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Well, it don’t do none of that without the plug.”

  “Thanks, but that doesn’t help me at all.” They all began talking when Dresker finally said, “Stop! Elwo
od only, please.”

  “Sir,” Elwood said, then cleared his throat, “something has caused all of the Mechanicans in our area to stop functioning.”

  “Not just your area,” Truhbel said. “It’s dat way over here in the engineering place too.”

  Dresker frowned. “I thought I told you not to distract Qweebdin?”

  “She’s not,” the voice of Qweebdin said. “I’m still tracing what’s going on.”

  “And what is going on?”

  “No clue,” Qweebdin replied. “Got a burst on my channel and then everything went batty.”

  Dresker needed a drink. Now.

  Why he was surrounded by people that he couldn’t understand was something he couldn’t understand. A straight answer was so hard to get these days. It never had been easy, to be honest, but the more technologically advanced the cities became the more lost he was.

  “Could you say that again in such a way that I can understand what you’re talking about?”

  “Sure, sorry,” Qweebdin said, his face now filling Truhbel’s VizScreen. “Somebody burst out a bunch of data.”

  “What was the data?”

  “Unknown at this time.”

  “Venture a guess?” Dresker said.

  “I could give twenty answers to that,” Qweebdin replied with a shrug, “but who knows which one would be right, if any? I’ll try to sift through it, but that’s going to take a number of clicks.”

  Dresker bit his lip and took a sip of his now-cold Carbenian’s. He winced at the bitterness.

  “This burst,” he said, as he dumped the rest of his drink in the trash, “did it originate from The Starliner?”

  “Had to,” Qweebdin answered. “That’s the only place that I was monitoring at the time.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Elwood interrupted, “but it looks like the Mechanicans are all powering back up.”

  FRIEND

  DRESKER STEPPED OUT of the IIB building and up into the fray of the city.

  The light was dimming as “night” took over, but there was enough of a reflection on the major buildings that lined the street to make everything visible. The saying went that it was never really dark on the floating mass that was the CCOP.

  It was quite a vision and one he rarely allowed himself to enjoy.

  Clean streets, orderly buildings, no-accident vehicles, various races working together in harmony—most of the time. All things considered, Dresker would have to cite it as a virtual paradise, to anyone not in law enforcement, anyway. For him and people like him, there was no such thing as paradise. Too many idiots for that possibility.

  Turning his attention to the street life, he watched as the majority of Mechanicans were either skipping, whistling, or both.

  “Excuse me,” he called out to one that was closing in on him.

  “Yes, friend?”

  Friend? Dresker gave the Mechanican a once over but didn’t find him familiar.

  “Um, okay. How come you’re skipping...and whistling?”

  “Because it is a good day, my friend!”

  And with that, the bot skipped away.

  Another one came along behind the first one and the same interaction ensued.

  “They’re all loony,” Dresker said out loud as he flicked open his VizScreen and put a call in to Truhbel.

  “Go for Truhbel,” she said.

  So, Dresker thought, it’s already begun. The it being that Truhbel had found a mate. Truhbel had obviously sewed up Qweebdin as her beau because she only acted curtly toward Dresker when she was in a relationship. It was an Uknar thing. Uknar females went through a fundamental change during courting. Dresker inwardly groaned because things always got a bit awkward until she got past the first week or two of a new fling. As if things weren’t bad enough.

  “Have you tried talking with any of these bots?”

  “Nope, why?”

  “Because they’re acting really strange.”

  “Dey always act strange.”

  “Well, yeah, but have you ever seen one skipping and whistling?”

  She frowned and then said, “I remember der was dis boy robot dat wore dem pink outfits. He skipped a lot, but dat was a long time ago before I met you. It was on Uk and—”

  “Truhbel,” Dresker said, “they’re all skipping around right now.”

  “I’m looking at dis TrashBot and he not skipping.”

  “Not bots, Mechanicans.”

  “You asked if I tried talking wif da bots,” she said as her head bounced side to side. “You not say nuffing about Merchanercans.”

  “Oh please,” Dresker whined. “Of all the people to start acting goofy on me right now...look, get with Brickens and tell him to figure out what the hell is going on and try to get it fixed.”

  “Is they hurting people?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Dresker responded, thinking that the whistling was rather painful.

  “Den what’s da problem?”

  “Aside from it being rather annoying to have thousands of skipping and whistling Mechanicans all over the place?”

  “Yep, besides dat.”

  “It’s...it’s...well, it’s just not right. Something is weird and that means that their programming has been altered. If that section has been altered than how can we know what else has happened to them that may be cause for real concern?”

  “Yep, okay, dat make sense. I’ll talk to Brickens.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get a hold of Twekman to see if he can shed any light on this, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  As he finished his sentence he noticed that Truhbel had already disconnected the call.

  § § §

  You could say a lot of things about Hawkins. He was slow bodied, more than a bit flabby in the mid-section, spoke funny compared to everyone else, and there were a slurry of other items that would set him apart from your average CCOP citizen. But everyone agreed that he could make people talk. And, as far as people go, that extended to Mechanicans too.

  “Could do, could do,” Hawkins was saying to a Mechanican that had stopped skipping long enough to answer a few of the man’s questions. “But I have to wonder how long you and I’ve been ‘friends,’ if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “It’s just a saying, Friend,” the Mechanican responded.

  “Why, son, I don’t even know your name and I’m a fella that prides himself on never forgetting me one of them.”

  “Roger,” the Mechanican said, offering his hand. “Roger Inkblot.”

  “You don’t say?” Hawkins responded, gripping the proffered hand. “I’m Hawkins. You’re an Inkblot, are ya? Last I heard there was only a handful of you boys left.”

  “Two hundred nineteen to be exact, Friend.”

  “Innerestin’, wouldn’t you say, Elwood?”

  “Absolutely,” Elwood replied dryly, having no clue what was interesting about the number of Inkblot-labeled Mechanicans floating around in the CCOP, but he was also fully aware that Hawkins didn’t much care either. He just wanted the thing to talk.

  “Oh yes, Friend,” Roger said. “We have been dwindling over the years but it’s not something that we much worried about until just a few moments ago.”

  Hawkins winked at Elwood.

  “Why the sudden interest?” Elwood ventured.

  “Because we don’t want any of our brethren left behind.”

  “Left behind?”

  Roger paused, his eyes shifting this way and that. “Metaphorically speaking,” he said finally.

  “Right, I see,” Hawkins said with a slow nod. “Can’t say I blame ya. Family first, as they say.”

  “Yes,” Roger responded quickly. “That’s exactly right. Family first, Friend.”

  Hawkins removed his hat and began to fan himself with it. Elwood had studied his mentor for so long that he knew full well the man was trying to contrive an angle and that he needed a moment.

  “I really must be going, Friend Hawkins,” Roger said.

  �
��Um,” Elwood lurched in front of Roger, “one more question, if you don’t mind?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I’m Elwood, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Friend Elwood. It is always good to have a new friend, is it not?”

  Depends on the friend, thought Elwood. “Sure it is,” he said instead. “Ah, well, let’s see...how do I ask this?” The better question would be what do I ask. “Do you play any musical instruments?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “I thought for sure all Inkblots were musical. Odd that you’re not.”

  Roger processed again. “According to my data, none of the current Inkblots engage in any musicality. Where did you get your data?”

  “He’s just got you mixed up, son,” Hawkins said, dropping his hat back in place. “Everyone knows that the Inkblots are more of a straight-laced bunch. Following rules and regulations, almost to the degree of orderly soldiers. Ain’t that right, Roger?”

  “We are proud of that heritage, Friend Hawkins.”

  “I would imagine that The Starliner would find you and yours quite an asset too.”

  “We do hope so. It would be wonderful if The Leader held us to some esteem in front of The Captain, for certain.”

  “I’ve not a doubt in it, son,” Hawkins said with a genuine smile. “You’d best run along now. Wouldn’t want to hold you up on finalizing what that Starliner wants you to do now, would we? I’d dare say them boys at The Starliner would be a bit curt if you didn’t get yer job done, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yes, sir,” Roger said and then slightly bowed. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”

  “And you too, Mr. Inkblot,” Hawkins added as Roger strode away.

  Elwood wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.

  TWIN-MOONS OF HARDENTON

  “AND NOW WE have a bunch of bots...” Dresker caught himself, knowing that Twekman was a sympathizer of the Mechanican movement, “...sorry, Mechanicans skipping around, whistling, saying that everyone is a friend, and the Twin-Moons of Hardenton knows what else.”