The Surrana Identity

by Michael Campling

  “Understood. You’ll have everything that you could possibly want.” Zorello smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of double-crossing you, Surrana. I have mastered the art of preservation, but I recognize my limitations. You are a great assassin, a master of your craft. It will be an honor to work with you.”

  “Yes,” Surrana said. “Yes, I suppose it will.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Earth

  Brent counted off the levels as the elevator whirred ever downward, taking them deeper beneath GIT. It had taken Halbrook some time to make all the necessary arrangements to get them this far, and Brent’s patience was wearing thin. “Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?” He tugged at the knot in his tie although the crumpled strip of fabric was already so loose that his efforts made no difference whatsoever. “We must be pretty much through the Earth’s crust by now. Better watch out for those dinosaurs when the doors open.”

  Mark Halbrook gave him a puzzled frown. “Why do you say that?”

  “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” Vince offered helpfully. “Jules Verne.”

  “We have no one by that name at GIT,” Halbrook replied, “and there are no dinosaurs here. Our Jurassic Program runs from a small island in the Pacific. It’s a fascinating place. The Gloabon Government is very keen to bring back the larger reptiles for obvious reasons.”

  Rawlgeeb smacked his lips together. “Delicious.”

  “That’s the aim. Unfortunately, we’ve had some problems containing the new diplodocus-velociraptor hybrids. They will insist on leaping around all over the place. Very trying.”

  “Oh my God,” Vince gasped. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

  “Yes, and it makes the rump steaks dreadfully tough.” Halbrook’s expression brightened. “The best solution we’ve found is just to let them get on with it. We give them the run of the place, and they seem to enjoy it. Plus, there’s the added benefit that we’ll be able to market the meat as free range.”

  “What could possibly go wrong?” Brent muttered, but the elevator thrummed to a gentle halt, and no one seemed to hear him.

  A warning tone heralded an electronic announcement: “Please remain completely still while biometric scans are completed. This is for your own safety and protection. No liability is accepted for any injuries received if you do not comply, however, we may offer you a preferential price for any medical treatment needed as a result of laser burns or accidental amputations. Conditions apply. This offer is limited to our standard range of medical procedures and prosthetics. For your comfort during any operations, anesthetic will be made available as an optional extra.”

  “Gee, I hope I entered you all into the system in time,” Halbrook said. “I’d hate for anything to happen.” But before anyone could react, the elevator lights dimmed, and the compartment was crisscrossed with flashing blue beams. Brent stared straight ahead, willing himself not to blink as a dazzling beam shone directly into his eyes.

  “Scan complete,” the voice announced as the beams winked out and the ceiling lights came back on. “Your security clearance has been confirmed. You may proceed.”

  “Funnily enough,” Halbrook began as the doors opened with a faint whir, “very few people move during the scans.”

  “You don’t say,” Brent breathed. “I’m just glad we passed the test. What would’ve happened if our clearance hadn’t been up to scratch?”

  Halbrook’s only reply was a tight smile before he strode out into the brightly lit corridor. “Stay close,” he called out, and they kept pace with him, their heads turning from side to side as they hurried along the featureless corridor.

  “What level are we on?” Brent asked. “And where are we headed? I thought we were going to see the ship you promised.”

  “And so we are,” Halbrook replied cheerily. “The Wasp is stored down here, in the testing area.”

  “Testing area?” Rawlgeeb asked. “The ship is safe, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a prototype,” Halbrook said. “We’re almost there. We’ll get you aboard, then the flight crew will take you through the safety drills and so on. I’ve given you two of our best pilots. They’ll take you wherever you want to go, but they’re not cleared for the details of this mission. They know Surrana is missing, but they do not know that you’re looking for her. It’s imperative that you keep it that way.”

  Brent raised his eyebrows “Don’t you trust them? Maybe you should pick a different crew.”

  “I trust them well enough,” Halbrook said, “but only a handful of our Special Ops team knew about the Surrana project, and it wasn’t a big hit with them. They feared that Gloabon assassins might be brought in to replace them, and between ourselves, I think they were glad to see the back of her.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Vince chipped in. “Hey, I just had a thought. We should bring Doctor Cooper along. We could really use his know-how to track Surrana down.”

  Halbrook stopped so sharply that Brent almost collided with him. “I couldn’t risk bringing in any more GIT employees, but I do have a private contractor waiting for you on the ship. It has to be that way for reasons of deniability. In fact, she used to work here, and you’ve met her already. Doctor Granger.”

  Brent exhaled loudly. “Met her, made her mad, turned her against me for life. Yup. We know Doctor Granger.”

  “Too late to change the team.” Halbrook gestured toward a door. “There’s no zinging down here—we have a suppression field in place—but that walkway will take you aboard.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Good luck, gentlemen. Find Surrana, and we’ll do the rest. That’s all there is to it.”

  Brent shook his hand. “Piece of cake.”

  Halbrook smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Brent, because if there’s one thing you can’t afford to have on this mission, it’s a sense of reality.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Brent said, then he watched Mark Halbrook make a hasty retreat.

  “Well, I suppose we may as well go aboard,” Rawlgeeb said, hauling the door open.

  Brent nodded, then all three marched onto the enclosed walkway, trudging along in silence, each alone with their thoughts. Soon, they were stepping through a narrow doorway, and Brent realized that they’d boarded the ship without ever having seen it from the outside. I’ll bet they do that deliberately, he thought. They don’t want anyone peeking at their top secret ship. That’s why they keep it so far underground.

  Unlike the shuttles he’d been in, this ship seemed built for function rather than comfort, and the confines of the short corridor stirred a whirl of claustrophobia in his gut. Thankfully, when they stepped through into what he assumed was the main cabin, the room was relatively wide, but in place of comfortable seats, workstations and banks of equipment seemed to fill every space. “Ahoy!” Brent called out. “Permission to come aboard?”

  “Shit!” Something thudded into the underside of a workstation, and a figure emerged, shuffling backward on hands on knees.

  “Doctor Granger,” Rawlgeeb crowed. “How nice to see you.”

  Ellen stood, wiping her hands across her flight suit. “Hi, Rawlgeeb, Vince.” She glanced at Brent, then looked away. “I was expecting a crack team of investigators. You didn’t happen to pass them on your way in, did you?”

  “I see that your sparkling wit is undiminished,” Rawlgeeb replied. “With you on our side, I’m sure that we’ll be successful.”

  “Possibly,” Ellen said. “But this equipment is a heap of crap. I guess I might be able to do something with it. Halbrook gave me access to GIT’s systems, so I have all the data on the shuttle the Gloabon took. That should give us a head start.” She paused. “Listen, I’ve been briefed, and I know about Surrana. My task is to make sure the tech works. If, at any point, I’m not confident we can finish the job, I’m authorized to turn this ship around and take us out of danger. There’s no wiggle room on this issue. I hope that’s clear.”

  Rawlgeeb nodded vigorously. “Eminently sensible. I wouldn’t
have it any other way.”

  “Fine,” Brent said. “I hate to break up the party, but I’d better go and meet the pilots. The sooner we get going, the better.”

  Ellen smirked. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to meet you. Captain Levinson and Sergeant Carter are in the cockpit.”

  “Oh great.” Brent forced a smile. “This is going to be just like old times. One big, happy family.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Rawlgeeb slapped Brent on the back. “We’ll get through this together, Brent. All for one, and one for all.”

  Brent ran his hands across his hips. “Damn! I forgot my rapier. Guess I’ll just have to muddle through with my Kreitian Killzoid.” He patted his breast pocket then fumbled inside his jacket, his brow furrowed. “Okay, I left it back at the office. All I have is this.” He produced his AGI card, holding it proudly. “And this is better than any weapon.”

  “That’s not a bad line,” Ellen admitted, “but for your sake, I just hope that thing is bulletproof.”

  Brent scowled as he pocketed his card. “I’m going to the cockpit. Strap yourselves in…if you can find a seat, that is.”

  He marched toward what he hoped was the front of the ship, leaving the others behind. Of all the crews in all the ships in the galaxy, she walks into mine, he thought bitterly. But deep down, he knew he should be thanking his lucky stars. Ellen was a top class scientist, and if anyone could find Surrana, it was her. She’d looked at home among the stacks of sophisticated equipment. She’d looked ready for action. She knows what she’s doing, Brent told himself, and in this ship, that makes her a member of a very exclusive club. He came to a door with the word Cockpit helpfully stenciled across it. It was time to meet the only other two members of that club, and Brent plastered a broad grin across his features as he swung the door open. “Levinson, Carter, meet your new crewmate! Let’s rock and roll. Fire the engines! Weigh the anchor, and let’s get the hell out of here!”

  And as they turned to stare in horror, Brent spread his hands to frame his face. “Showtime, folks!”

  CHAPTER 9

  Andel-Kreit Coalition Ship The Kreltonian Skull

  Undergoing Trial Run.

  Destination: Mars

  Dex ran. At least, he tried to. The servos in his grav boots whined and screeched as they worked in vain to match his desired pace along the corridor, but they just weren’t up to the task. A brisk jog, they could manage, but a headlong frenzied dash, they could not.

  “Shim!” Dex hissed, ducking to avoid a flat, circular object that twirled and spun through the air, its edges glinting as it hurtled along the curved corridor. It flew past his head, almost grazing his skull, but he identified it immediately, and as he continued his spirited dash, Dex tapped the comms stud on his tunic’s cuff. “Engineering, get a maintenance crew down to the corridor on level one. There’s a foreign object down here that’s got caught in the airflow from the vents, and the damned thing has got some speed behind it. If someone doesn’t get it stowed away, it’s going to cause some real damage.”

  The reply was immediate: “Engineering. What kind of FO, sir. We have multiple incidents, and the maintenance crews are flat out.”

  “I’m well aware of the situation!” Dex snapped, then he drew a breath. “Who am I talking to?”

  “Sir, this is Ensign Lachenko, sir. Standing by, sir.”

  “Never mind the formalities, Lachenko. I know you’re new, son, but when the Chief Engineer says jump, you don’t ask how high until your feet have left the deck, understood?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s just that, well, my feet have the deck, sir. I’m experiencing a little difficulty with my grav boots, and since the grav generator failed…”

  Dear gods, Dex thought, if you have any mercy at all, save me from freshly promoted officers. He slowed his pace a little as he marshaled his words. “It was a metaphor, Lachenko, but so help me, I’ll have you scouring out the sand showers for a month if your next sentence doesn’t contain the words yes and sir, closely followed by the phrase, I’ll get right on it. However, in the interest of clarity, the foreign object was an alloy drinks’ tray, traveling at approximately thirty meters per second, and its lower surface, which I had the opportunity to observe at close quarters, bore the legend: Property of Brogett’s Whiskey Shack and Go-go Bar. Got it? Accurate enough for you?”

  “Erm. Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

  “Thank you so much.” Dex closed the channel and redoubled his efforts to run faster. The bridge was just seconds away, and once at his post, he’d stand a chance of diagnosing the series of catastrophic failures that had dogged the ship since it had passed through the asteroid belt. Just a few more paces, and then he was there, straightening his tunic as he hurried onto the bridge. “Sir,” he began, meeting Captain Stanch’s glare while trying desperately to recover his breath. “I, er, phew! Drinks’ tray.”

  “What?” Stanch demanded.

  “Sorry, sir. Not important.” He marched to his station and opened every diagnostic display he could think of, absorbing their complex tables of data in moments before swiping them aside, each gesture accompanied by a strident beep from the console. Why did they have to mess with the notifications? I had everything just the way I liked it: silent. But this was no time for tweaking his console’s settings, no matter how strongly he felt the urge.

  “Chief Engineer, how long until we get gravity back online?” Stanch asked. “I’m getting hungry, and as things stand, no power on Andel could persuade me to step inside the canteen.”

  “Approximately seven minutes,” Dex replied distractedly, “or possibly a little longer.”

  Stanch grunted under his breath. “You have absolutely no idea what’s wrong, Dex. Admit it.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far. I’m sure the fault is somewhere in the wave stabilizer. It’s just a matter of…oh.” Dex nodded thoughtfully. “I have it, sir. We’ll have full gravity in a few moments.” He straightened his back, looking dead ahead, his right hand creeping slowly closer to the console. Without looking down, he tapped the control panel, and a warning echoed through the bridge:

  “Gravity systems initiating in five seconds. All hands, prepare for gravity in four, three, two, one. Gravity is back online.”

  Dex tensed as gravity’s welcome embrace tugged at his limbs. His grav boots automatically deactivated, and his leg muscles ached as normal blood flow returned. I really must go to the gym more often, he told himself. Once every three years isn’t enough. From the corridor, a metallic clang split the silence as something clattered into the door and then slid to the deck. Dex smiled. “Drinks’ tray. Excellent.”

  Stanch narrowed his eyes. “Dex, what did you just do? That miraculous repair took one flick of your finger. I know you’re good, but nobody’s that good. Was something switched off?”

  “No, sir. Not switched off.” Dex was all innocence, but Stanch fixed him with a stare, and he crumbled. “Somehow, the wave equalizer circuit was switched into standby mode, but…it wasn’t my fault.” He gestured angrily toward his console. “There used to be a button, right there. Top right corner. Just one little button. Plain and simple. And it lit up. Green for on, red for off. But now, now, I have all these dialogue boxes popping up every few seconds. Are you sure? Do you wish to proceed? Confirm operation, Override Access Control, Deny Permission, Once for Yes, Twice for No, Dismiss This Message for One Month.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m no stick-in-the-dunes when it comes to new tech, Captain, but this interface is beyond a joke.”

  “On this occasion, I’ll cut you a little slack, Dex, but you’d better get up to speed on the upgrades right now before something else goes wrong.” Stanch took the captain’s seat with dignity, sitting bolt upright, his hands on his thighs as he surveyed the gleaming bridge. “Listen up, people, I want a smooth trip from now on. A lot is riding on this trial run, and I don’t want to see any more mistakes.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Okay, we’re due for a shift change. Check your statio
ns before you hand over, and during your break, I want everyone to read through the new manuals, and I mean everyone.” He glanced at Dex, but not unkindly and not for long.

  “Aye, Captain,” the officers chorused, the buzz of background activity rising as everybody hunched over their consoles, their fingers flicking feverishly over the control panels.

  Stanch permitted himself a modest smile as he leaned back in his chair. With a nonchalant flick of a talon, he tapped the control to call up his log, and a safety harness shot out from the backrest, encapsulating his upper body. He winced as a fifth strap sprung up between his legs to meet the sturdy buckle on his chest, but Dex had to hand it to the captain; he kept his cool. “Yes, that works fine,” Stanch announced, quickly tapping the button once more and staying very still as his harness retracted, the straps whipping away as quickly as they’d appeared. “Excellent. It’s always good to check your safety gear.”

  Dex toyed with the idea of offering to recalibrate the sensitivity of the captain’s emergency harness release, but before he could speak, the bridge door slid open and a group of eight officers marched in, the team led by an athletic Andelian female. And behind her, grinning over her shoulder, was Zeb.

  “Science officer reporting for duty,” Zeb announced, beaming as he strode across the bridge.

  “Very good,” Stanch said, rising from his seat. “Ah, Commander Xander. Our new first officer. Welcome to the bridge.”

  Xander inclined her head. “Captain Stanch, it is an honor to serve alongside you. I have followed your career with interest.”