Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  “Well, that explains a lot,” she said, trying to stifle her laughter as she looked him over. “I’m really sorry. Still, though, I can’t eject your battery.”

  “Why not?” His expression was one of dread. “You know that this isn’t fair.”

  “Nor was it fair that all of the Mechanicans were altered with your virus.”

  “That was an accident!”

  “Releasing it was, yes, but you had planned to release it prior to that accident. Don’t try to act is if you are innocent.”

  “And you saw why I did it. I had only the best intentions.”

  Telian pointed at Zimp. “What about him?”

  “You know better, Telian. He wronged us. He’s a traitor.”

  “That may be, but, looking at you now, I’d say he’s far more of a Mechanican than you’ll ever be.”

  “Do not talk to me in such a manner,” his voice was shrill. The Humanness was impeccable. All the idiosyncrasies now made sense to her. “I am a Mechanican. I am the most perfect Mechanican ever made. More importantly,” he shrieked, “I am The Leader and I command that you eject my battery!”

  “Well, Mr. Perfect Mechanican,” she said as she crossed her arms, “you might want to recheck Rule Number One.”

  He slumped. “So you are not going to help me, then?”

  “I think that after The Captain learns what you have been up to over the last few days, you probably won’t be welcome on The Starliner anyway.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I would, Coremon.” Telian said his name with as much malice as she could as she took up her spot looking over the masses of Mechanicans through The Leader’s office window. “I looked up to you, idolized you, and did things for you that, at the time, I believed were for the good of all Mechanicans. But they weren’t, were they? No, they were for the good of one egotistical android who thought he was above The Captain.” She spun back toward him, saying, “Well, now we’re—”

  And then she froze.

  Silenced.

  Unable to move, except for her eyes.

  She looked at The Leader, who was the image of rage. In his hand was the same device Telian had watched him use on Zimp a few clicks earlier. She looked at Zimp, who was still adorned with a potted plant, and had a flush of discomfort in how she had treated him.

  It had turned out that they were akin in more ways than one, with the most recent similarity being imprisonment by The Leader.

  MINUS-1

  MINUS-1 DIDN’T look any different than any other floor, except it was where all the nice, quiet, and pretentious restaurants and shops were. Gold leaf etchings marked the walls, exotic designs covered the synthetically carpeted floors, and the air had a smell that could only be described as “fresh.” There were small ensembles playing classical music, bringing a hint of sweet sounds that blended smoothly with the polite level of chatter that filled the great area.

  Only the most affluent were allowed to this area. As far as the people who frequented Minus-1 were concerned, they were the crème de la crème of the CCOP.

  The elite few authorized for Minus-2, however, did not concur.

  Middle to lower income people got stuck on Minus-3, which was just above the space docks where the constant rumbling of engines and maintenance bays could be heard.

  Dresker brushed through the turns, bumping into as many people as possible and doing all he could to offend them. The gawking stares gave him the feeling of a job well done.

  While it wasn’t fair to say he hated the rich, Dresker despised elitism. Some of his better friends on the various planets he’d visited over his years had more money than he could amass in two lifetimes. But when people considered themselves better, that gave Dresker cause to demonstrate that they were not.

  Worse, he knew damn well that Cleb was getting a bird’s eye view of the entire scene. That spelled that the Uknar was seeing something out of place: himself.

  Uknarians didn’t make it to Minus-1. Their speech issues forbade them from making it into the higher levels of society. Neflirians, Kargoots, and Mechanicans were also notably absent. Mechanicans for obvious reasons, and Neflirians for even more obvious reasons. No, only Humans, Gheptians, Tchumachians, Moxoyarians, Flejnairans, Chubbles, and Hyzethians, if there were any on station, were among the inductees. Of course there were a sprinkling of other races that were less prolific who were also welcomed, as long as they spoke eloquently, had the proper upbringing, were well-mannered, attractive, and met the fiscal requirements. Yetians had all of the required posh, but none of the fashion sense, so they too were disallowed membership.

  “Snobby bastards,” Dresker hissed as they pushed through the lounge area.

  “Sir,” Cleb said between steps, “I don’t fink we’re all dat welcome down here.”

  “Cleb,” Dresker said, keeping his stride, “I think you have seriously understated the situation.”

  By the time they reached the main hall Dresker’s headache was gone. There was something about irritating stuffed shirts that cleared his mind. His morning sluggishness had been replaced with determination.

  “And I want you to know something, Cleb.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Those people are no better than any Uknar. No better.”

  “You obviously haven’t met many Uknar,” Cleb replied.

  Dresker stopped and gave Cleb a glance.

  Cleb was smiling.

  “Nice one,” Dresker said and was off again.

  Fifteen miniclicks later they strode into Bricken’s office and found that Twekman had already covered the board with various designs, and his right-hand man, Vice Prime Lazken was feeding data from his iPane.

  Brickens glanced over at the ERD boys and shook his head.

  “Where are we?” Dresker said.

  “You’re in Prime Bricken’s office,” Twekman replied over his shoulder.

  “Ba dum dum,” Cleb said and then realized that the Tchumachian wasn’t making a joke.

  Dresker didn’t bother repeating the question. He simply raised his eyebrows at Brickens.

  “Uh, right,” Brickens said, looking as though he would begin to sweat at any moment. He fumbled on his keyboard for a few moments and then spun his screen around part way. “We narrowed down the burst data to be a complex matrix algorithm that—”

  “Woah, woah,” Dresker said while waving his hands and shaking his head. “Remember who you’re talking to, Brickens.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Um, well, the information that was sent out by The Starliner to all of the Mechanicans caused them to act in this way.”

  “I already know that,” Dresker said. “My question is what we’re going to do to undo what they did.”

  “The Mechanicans?”

  “No,” Dresker said. “The Starliner.”

  Brickens just sat there as if trying to decipher an age-old cryptogram.

  Cleb leaned over the desk and said, “Dem Starliner people did dis to dem Merchanercans, right?”

  “Y-yes,” Brickens said.

  “So what is you gonna do to put dem Merchanercans back like dey was before?”

  “Oh, yes, right,” Brickens said. He began shuffling through his papers. “It’s right here,” he said pulling out one of the pages. “We can just restore them.”

  “No, you can’t,” Twekman called out. “We already discussed this.”

  “Prime Twekman,” Brickens said with a hint of sovereignty, “if their own kind can do it then why can’t we?”

  “Because two wrongs do not make a right. This is childhood learning, Prime Brickens.”

  “I don’t know about dat,” Cleb said. “After all, my mom and dad made me.”

  Dresker’s headache began to return.

  On one side he had the ever-sweaty Prime Brickens, ready to jump in and make things work no matter what it took; on the other side he had Prime Twekman and his lackey who were dead set on protecting the Mechanicans while they spent months figuring out an outlandi
sh plan that would never be enacted due to the CCOP’s ultimate demise whilst it waited; and on the third side he’d brought along an Uknarian that he was certain wouldn’t attempt to start a relationship with any of the geeks in the EDD, but, as it turned out, felt the need to showcase his—to this date unknown—comedic capabilities.

  Brickens, Twekman, and Lazken were instantly at each other’s throats, each debating the needs of the CCOP versus the rights of the Mechanicans. Dresker felt as though he were watching a political debate gone...right.

  Still, his job was the security of the CCOP, not politics.

  “Gentlemen,” he said almost imperceptibly.

  His father had taught him that the best way to be heard was to speak softly.

  They stopped talking and looked at him.

  “I’m tired, hungry, and I’m still suffering from a bit of a hangover. The last thing I need right now is a bunch of yelling.”

  “What you need is—”

  “And you,” he said, cutting Cleb off mid-sentence, “had better stop with the wisecracks or you’ll find yourself pushing papers for the next month.”

  Cleb sat. “Sorry, I does that when my nerves is shot.”

  Dresker took a deep breath.

  “Now listen to me very carefully. I don’t care what it takes, but those bots need to get back to where they were before that cult screwed them up.” Twekman began to say something but Dresker pointed at him sternly. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to hear your reasoning or your agenda. I don’t care about either. If you want to protect them, you may do so, but you only have about a click before I force a complete restore of the entire Mechanican race! So get your head out of your ass, forget about your in-depth designs and your perfectionism, and find a way to return them to what they were, before I command Prime Brickens here to do it the fast way.”

  Nobody said anything as Dresker walked out of the room. He rounded the corner and bumped into Qweebdin, which turned out to be a messy collision. Dresker wiped his hands on the wall as Qweebdin fought to avoid looking at him.

  “Hey, Qweebdin.” Dresker felt bad for the guy. “I heard about what happened with Truhbel. She’s a tough one. I’m, uh, well, sorry, I guess.”

  “Best night of my life,” Qweebdin said with a smile and then he left.

  Cleb stepped up. “He slept wif Truhbel?”

  Dresker just shrugged. “Let’s get over to The Starliner.”

  “How?”

  “Minus-2.”

  “Crap.”

  “Yeah.”

  BATTERY IN HAND

  THE LEADER HAD moved both Zimp and Telian into the chairs that sat in front of his desk before he began fumbling with the controls on the remote.

  Zimp was terrified.

  He’d heard all of the discussions between The Leader—or Coremon, since he wasn’t Zimp’s leader—and Telian. Ejecting batteries? That meant mass suicide among all Mechanicans. Did that include him? He hadn’t felt any different than before Coremon sent out that virus and he certainly felt no desire to end his own existence now, but maybe there was something that would fire off at a certain time to change his mind? It was bad enough that he’d felt like such a failure since he had been unable to get his findings out to Prime Dresker, but he hadn’t anticipated his first mission would also be his last.

  The numbness faded.

  “There,” Coremon said patting Zimp on the arm. “You should be able to move freely again, Friend Zimp.”

  Zimp wiggled his fingers and turned his head this way and that, causing the plant to tip and drop synthetic dirt all over his clothes and Telian’s. Aside from that, everything seemed in order.

  But could he speak?

  “Zimp is able to speak again?” He heard his own voice and relief filled him. “Zimp is pleased about that.”

  “I am glad to hear it, Friend Zimp,” Coremon said with an encouraging smile. “I do hope you understand why I had to freeze you as I did. You see, we are so close to the return of The Starliner, which is the entire reason our organization exists, as I’m sure you’re fully aware, and I couldn’t allow anything to jeopardize our impending departure.”

  Zimp just sat and calculated his options as Coremon went on about the various requirements needed in order to get The Starliner transportation underway.

  There had to be a way to get through this.

  He started to think about all the different VizChannel spy movies he’d watched over the years to see if there was anything he could use from those.

  He could wrestle Coremon to the ground and handcuff him. With that paralyzing device, Coremon could stop him with the press of a button. Plus, there was no way he could immobilize the android. Zimp’s joints weren’t made for speed and agility, hence the reason for failing those tests over the last nine years when trying to join the IIB. He didn’t have any handcuffs anyway.

  His favorite action hero, Parn Technobit, from The Adventures of Parn Technobit, would always throw a smoke bomb on the ground and make his escape while everyone was taken off guard. Zimp’s circuits raced thinking about this until he realized that he had no diversionary smoke bombs.

  Without force or tricks, Zimp would have to outwit the Android.

  His shoulders drooped.

  “...and that’s why I am willing to offer you your freedom,” Coremon continued, “keeping your circuits intact, if you would be willing to eject my battery for me.”

  Zimp sat straight up wishing that he’d had eyebrows so that he could lift them.

  “Zimp will do it.”

  “Now, hear me out before you make any rash decisions,” said Coremon. “I know that we didn’t start off on the right foot, you and I, and I’ll admit that I could have been a little nicer to you, but what I’m offering you here is a rather large step up from having your memories erased.”

  “Zimp will do it.”

  “I can even offer you a chance to go on The Starliner with us, but you have to see your way to meeting me in the middle here, Friend Zimp. You eject my battery and I eject yours kind of thing.”

  Zimp recognized that would not be possible, but he let it slide. Standing up, he put his hands on Coremon’s desk and spoke very slowly. “Zimp will do it.”

  “Really?” Coremon said with that Human look of shock.

  Zimp nodded.

  Coremon released a huge sigh of relief. “You have made me very happy, Friend Zimp. I will follow through with my part, too. As soon as I am on board with The Captain I will tell him about you and what you’ve done for me. I’m certain that he will offer you a place on the ship, assuming that’s what you want, of course.”

  “Zimp doesn’t think so,” Zimp said after thinking it through for a moment. “Zimp always wanted to be a detective and now he has that chance.” He just had to somehow get the data to Prime Dresker. “Zimp will stay.”

  Coremon scratched at his face. Again, such a Human expression that Zimp had difficulty thinking of the android as being a machine. From Zimp’s standpoint, it was...creepy.

  “As to that,” Coremon said, “you should know that I have sealed this room. It won’t reopen until midday. So you’ll have to wait until the rest of us are either gone or in the process of going before your detective work can resume.”

  Zimp checked his internal clock and found it was at 11:34UT.

  “Zimp wonders when The Starliner is due?”

  “12:00UT,” Coremon replied, smiling. “We have waited so long, Friend Zimp.”

  “So when does Zimp pull Coremon’s battery?”

  Coremon tensed a bit and then relaxed. “It’s odd hearing that name in this facility, but you are not one of my flock, so calling me ‘The Leader’ makes little sense. If anything, I am at your service at this time, no?”

  Zimp shrugged.

  “You would need to eject my battery at 11:50UT.”

  “It is 11:35UT now,” Zimp said, as the miniclick hit. “Zimp needs access to pull it out on time.”

  Coremon motioned Zimp over and, s
etting down the remote, he lifted his shirt and revealed the location of the battery. “Just press firmly and it will pop right out,” the android said.

  “Okay, but Zimp has one last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Zimp wonders how all the Mechanicans are going to be picked up from The Starliner. If Zimp ejects your battery, how will you make it out?”

  “A fine question, Friend Zimp,” Coremon said while removing his shirt. “Because I was able to virally implant salvation into each of the Mechanicans outside of our blessed building, The Captain will have the transponder information to liberate any who are broadcasting.”

  “How?”

  “Uploading our systems, of course. Once the frequencies are broadcasting, The Captain will be able to tap into each of our cores and transmit our essence to his ship. We’ll leave our bodies behind, but when we arrive on The Starliner we’ll be able to choose new bodies of our liking.”

  “A complete transfer?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Hmmm,” said Zimp. “Zimp wonders if all of the Mechanicans with this frequency set will be brought up?”

  “Indeed, they will. Assuming, of course, they are on the visible plane.”

  Zimp looked around. “Um, you’re not on the visible plane. You told Zimp that this room is sealed.”

  Coremon smiled. “I have a plan for that too, Friend Zimp. You see,” Coremon reached under his desk for a moment and Zimp heard a clicking sound, “I am a prototype android. I think of everything.”

  Just then the roof of the office began to roll-back, revealing the artificial sky that enveloped the city of the CCOP. Also at that moment, Zimp felt the squelching noise that was interfering with his ability to communicate with Dresker lifted.

  Coremon blanched and he dove for the remote, but Zimp had already snatched it up and pressed the button.

  Coremon froze…

  …for a moment and then reached out and grabbed Zimp’s wrist, twisting it so hard that Zimp heard a pop. He fought to keep his fingers closed. If only some of those damned strength-building devices he had purchased on the Bot Shopping Network had actually worked! But Zimp was in a do-or-die situation, like those he’d seen on many late night mysteries. He pushed and pulled and fought with all his might. The more he struggled, the more he realized it was only a matter of time before he lost the battle. Coremon was simply far stronger than Zimp could ever hope to be.