The Alien Trace [Cord 01]

by H M Major

  Lion's co-worker looked at him pityingly.

  "You don't turn someone in because he's gone comet-riding and forgotten to get back in time for his shift. Li wasn't the kind to use Happi-High or Comet Dust much, so I thought he'd taken a little too much or maybe mixed them. Hey, you know how it is: if you aren't a regular, it's easy to make a mistake."

  "Make sure the meds get blood samples," Garatua told Leno. "We'll interview everyone he worked with, too. I'll search his unit myself. So what happened then?"

  Their informant continued, "He was sitting at a table- over there, the corner one-but he wasn't eating. He was talking to himself. He passed by me earlier, but he didn't say anything to me-probably didn't see me."

  "Did you hear what he was saying?"

  "It was bizarre. He kept repeating that things were creeping around after him."

  Things. The word hung in the air, almost visible.

  "Things?" Garatua echoed without enthusiasm.

  "He didn't say what he meant. Frankly, I wouldn't have wanted to know," the woman answered.

  Everyone knew what she meant…

  "Thanks. Give your name and number to Leno. We may need to talk to you again. Come on," Garatua told Cord.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I want to see Lion's psych profile. And interview the people in his department."

  They stopped at a privacy-shielded com-screen, used Garatua's special access code, and learned more about the subject's mind and life than his own mother had known. Most of the terminology was gibberish to Cord, but his companion translated.

  "Repressed to a factor of five, as the girl said, acquaintances, not friends. No real sexual outlets. Liked to take long walks in the outdoors-a bit difficult on this world. Religion-Fourth Zen Anabaptist Church. That accounts for much of the guilt and fear. Prefers being alone. Painstaking and methodical, a delicate balance between stability and howling insanity."

  "I understood personnel were screened to eliminate undesirable elements and potential problems," Cord said.

  "They are. And according to his profile, there was little likelihood that Pars would tip over into instability. Granted, he was weird, but the psych-tech's opinion is that he'd go on being a little weird and not very happy but doing his job all right. Which is all the company asks."

  "The psych-tech made a mistake."

  "So it appears," O'as admitted.

  ***

  They were down on the lowest level of the complex. The port grew its own food under artificial light, using waste products to feed gigantic hybrid plants. Alien-to Cord, at least-bushes and stalks towered over them as they spoke with the dead man's department head.

  "Lion's job was to maintain the farm's environment. He checked the irrigation and fertilizer channels, the lighting and so forth. Most of the harvesting and planting is automated, and he had nothing to do with that. But keeping the temperature and light cycles stable and monitoring the watering and feeding is a major effort. When you're feeding as many as we do, those things are critical. We could live on Mehiran food for some time and stay pretty healthy, but a port can't afford to depend on external food supplies. And on some worlds, we couldn't digest the proteins and starches at all."

  "What sort of person was he?"

  The supervisor examined a half-ripe berry the size of Cord's fist before answering.

  "Not easy to know. Quiet but pleasant. Or was. I can't believe he'd try to kill anyone else. Himself, yes. I can believe that. Unless…"

  Neither Cord nor Garatua prompted him. Cord was sure the man would refuse to say more if they tried to push him.

  "… unless he began to see them as not human. Or humanoid-I beg your pardon," the human added to Cord.

  "We were told that Lion talked about 'things'-creatures, perhaps. Did he speak to you about them?"

  "Not much, and not at all lately. A few weeks ago he said something about things hiding in the maintenance tunnels. we laughed it off, and after that he wouldn't say any more he got so he didn't like going into the tunnels alone. Out of orbit? Sure, but lots of people have a crimp one way or another."

  Gazing around the cavernous space, dim even with the plant lights, Cord could understand Lion's crimp. The plants' huge leaves rustled with the soft breeze from a ventilator. In the silence, such sounds were almost sinister. Did Lion take 'ong walks in this man-made "out-of-doors"? Or was he threatened by this towering primeval forest?

  "You wouldn't happen to have a cutter down here, would you?" O'as was asking.

  In the semi-gloom it was not easy to see the embarrassed flush on the man's face, but it could be read in his movements and his voice.

  "I won't try to fool you. We do have one-you're going to find it's the one he used up there." He stumbled over the words, trying to explain. "We kept it because it's easier to have it here than to make trips to stores. When Li got twitchy about the tunnels and started taking the cutter with him… well-we needed him. If he dusted out, we'd be shorthanded. But I swear I never knew he'd take the cutter out of the department. I wouldn't have let him do that, no matter how many aliens were after him."

  Garatua snorted in derision, but Cord's attention was riveted.

  "Say that again, please."

  "Huh? What?"

  "About aliens being after him. Was that what he believed? Not 'things' but aliens?"

  "Lion had this theory that the things were aliens trying to infiltrate the port. Rumors about 'things' are common-in every spaceport there are tales of mutated giant spiders and worms-or worse-in the lower levels."

  "Port legends," O'as agreed. "No truth to any of it. Like city stories about the insane mother who put her baby down the disposal chute-" She stopped abruptly.

  "The funny thing is," the supervisor went on, "Lion didn't imagine oversized spiders or worms, and on some planets it would be rational to believe aliens were trying to break in. I don't know exactly what he saw in the tunnels, but he did see a big bird outside, once. But it was night, and I guess he was seeing things."

  "A big bird?" O'as repeated.

  "Bigger than a man, with a sharp, curved beak. Since he saw it outside the buildings, and at night, it didn't seem so weird. We thought it was a real Mehiran creature." He looked at Cord expectantly.

  Cord shook his head, swinging his heavy scalplock. "There's nothing on Mehira that fits the description."

  "How long had he been out of orbit?" O'as asked.

  "Like I said, it's been a few weeks since he got the idea that there were things down here following him. It's only the past week he's actually 'seen' them. Before he just thought they were there."

  "Uhh," O'as grunted. "Well, thanks. You've been helpful." She turned and stalked off.

  "Hell of a fine woman," the superintendent muttered to Cord. "Not too talkative, not too skinny. You say what you like about Kameans, but that girl's got grit."

  "You should tell her so," Cord said. The superintendent looked as though he had a certain amount of grit himself.

  "I sure would like to, but I'm not much good at meeting people. That's why I'm down here farming."

  "It's not hard. In a day or two, why not go up to security to ask her how the investigation is going. Then tell her what a good job you think she's doing. That would get you acquainted."

  "I guess it would. Thanks. Maybe I'll do it."

  Cord went after O'as. In the dim emptiness, he began to walk faster. It was a relief to find her waiting at the trans tube.

  "What next?" Cord asked her.

  "We check his unit." She jumped in the trans tube. Cord was only a step behind.

  ***

  The unit was compulsively tidy. A shelf held tapes-mostly of the self-improvement variety-and some family portrait holopix and a religious object or two. Garatua poked around. Cord sniffed the air. It was stale.

  He found all the rooms in the spaceport somewhat musty, since the complex contained no windows. The building was sheathed in the black material that made it impervious to attack and ac
cident; it used an efficient ventilation system instead of the Mehirans' haphazard method of opening windows. Still, however sophisticated, mechanically circulated air is not the same as a refreshing breeze. The atmosphere of Pars's room was even less fresh than usual, Cord noticed. He looked for the ventilating duct. While O'as went through Lion's belongings, Cord dragged a chair over to the wall. Standing on the chair to examine the duct, he discovered the reason for the room's closeness.

  "There's something in here," Cord told the security chief.

  She stopped her search of the wardrobe to join him.

  "I don't like to hear that word 'thing,' " she said. "There's been too much talk about 'things' already."

  "It looks like a notebook," Cord said, using a thumbnail to loosen one of the screws holding the grille in place,

  The screws came free easily: they had been removed and replaced often. Garatua took the book from Cord and opened it. "It's a diary," she announced.

  Cord stepped off the chair and sat next to O'as on Lion's neatly made bed. He watched her skim the pages, looking for a pertinent entry. "Listen to this," she commanded.

  " 'I knew I wasn't imagining it. I thought there were things down there, watching, watching, always watching me, but really there's only the one. It's nasty and slimy but it's frightened of me-that's because it knows what a cutter is. I shot at it and missed. It flattened out so fast the ray hit the wall, and I'll have to explain about that when the next maintenance crew comes around. Then it slid into a duct and I didn't follow it.' "

  O'as flipped the page and read another section:

  " 'I can't tell anyone about it. They'll say I'm crazy-the letters say so, and the others laughed when I said there were things in the tunnels.' "

  "What does he mean by 'letters'?" O'as asked herself. " 'It's a trial sent by Providence to test me. If my faith is great enough it can't hurt me. I've got to keep doing my job and pretend I'm not frightened. If I tell everyone what's wrong, they'll ship me offplanet to a hospital and take my brain apart. Everyone here will laugh at me for not doing my duty and having faith. I wonder if it will come up here looking for me.' "

  Cord, reading over Garatua's shoulder, saw the man's deterioration in his handwriting. It had been precise, easy to read even for Cord, who was not yet familiar with script. Now the words sprawled across the page. If O'as had not been reading aloud, Cord doubted he could have deciphered the diary. She turned another page. "Ah," she said triumphantly. "Here's our answer."

  " 'Someone knows. Another note was under my door when I came home from work. Got to try harder to be calm. If they drug me I'll be helpless-it could get me then. Tomorrow I'll bring the cutter with me.'

  "Well," said Garatua, "That's that. There's more, but I can read it later. There are one or two more places here I want to check, and then we can go."

  "Your investigation is completed, then?" Cord asked. Certain points still seemed obscure to him.

  "Not quite. I'd like to get a look at the poison-pen letters he received and find out who sent them. Let someone start that in a community as isolated as this, and it's bound to lead to trouble. Pars may have been half cracked to begin with, but I'll bet it was the letters that pushed him over."

  Cord nodded agreement, then was startled to hear O'as say, "Now we pay a visit to Julia McKay." At his expression, she explained, "Since Lion was religious it makes sense to think he went to a missionary for advice. Besides, it's important that no mystery be attached to his death: this port is cut off from civilization-Terran/human, anyhow-and things get magnified out of proportion in isolation. If the pressure builds and rumors start, this port could go off like a string of firecrackers."

  O'as did not speak again, and Cord did not intrude on her thoughts, verbally or otherwise. Out of self-preservation-and habit-his shields were now up all the time. This was an unthinkable insult among Mehirans, but among the uncontrolled violence of the Terran minds, Cord would go mad. The drawback was that the shields prevented him from finding his would-be assassin.

  Julia admitted them to her unit, greeting them with an inquiring and obviously puzzled smile.

  "Lion Pars killed himself this afternoon," O'as said abruptly. "Did he ever come to you for spiritual counseling-or whatever you call it?"

  Julia's eyes went wide. "Lion killed himself? Oh, no…"

  "He wounded several others. He went berserk in the dining room." Garatua waited for a response.

  "You aren't surprised, are you, Julia?" Cord asked, when she did not speak. It earned him an approving nod from the security head.

  "No, I'm not. Here, sit down," Julia invited. O'as sat on the chair, and Cord and Julia took places on the bed. "I suppose you want to know about him. He came to my services, of course. Like my own sect, the Zen Anabaptists place emphasis on group worship. He also came to confess, or 'share' as we call it."

  "Confess what?"

  "Nothing of importance-the small deviations from righteousness of a person with no great sins or great virtues. But lately he did not come to confess so much as to talk. He needed someone who would listen to him."

  Garatua frowned slightly. "Anything not covered by the seal of the confessional?"

  Julia hesitated. "Many religions require that a chaplain maintain professional secrecy, but exceptions are permitted in some cases. My own religion leaves it to the discretion of the minister."

  O'as waited with what was, for her, patience.

  "I don't think it can do poor Lion any harm to tell you part of what he told me," Julia decided. "Maybe it will help you to understand."

  "Go ahead."

  "He was always rather nervous, but more so in the past month. He was frightened to be alone in the tunnels where he worked."

  "Oh? What did he think was down there?" O'as phrased the question casually.

  "He imagined there were monsters." The word "imagined" was accented. "I think he realized that it was all a product of an unhealthy mind, but when your heart is pounding and you're trembling and sweating with fear it might be hard to remember it."

  "So there wasn't really anything to it but craziness."

  Julia smiled. "He was a nice little man, but he should never have gone to work for a trading company. Lion was afraid of aliens. He should have stayed on his own world, surrounded by other Zen Anabaptists and no aliens at all. Or else he should have had psych counseling to cure him of it."

  "And when did you last see him?"

  "It must have been the day before yesterday-yes, after his shift he came to the chapel."

  "Did he do or say anything to indicate that he was reaching his breaking point?"

  "No. It was obvious he wasn't in good shape mentally, but if I'd had any clue that he would become violent, I would have insisted he see the doctor."

  "Did he mention receiving a letter?"

  "No-but there hasn't been a ship in port for some time, so he couldn't have gotten one recently."

  "I meant a letter or note from someone within the spaceport."

  Julia shook her head; the auburn hair rippled over her shoulders, and Cord admired the way light sparkled over it.

  "I don't think he said anything about one. But his mind was taken up with his fears. Is there anything else I can tell you?"

  "No, I guess that wraps it up. Everyone agrees he was out of orbit and he finally blew up. You know what this means?"

  The question was addressed to Cord. He tore his attention away from Julia and raised his eyebrows inquiringly at O'as.

  "Lion feared aliens. You're the only alien ever to stay inside the port-and you've been here almost a month. The same month Lion went over the edge. He was the one who tried to kill you-and he was completely familiar with the ducts and tunnels."

  O'as stood up to leave. "Give me a call," she said pointedly to Cord, "when you have the chance…"

  Once she was out of the door, Cord put his arms around Julia. She returned his embrace and squeezed him.

  "You're safe now," she murmured. "I'm sure of it."<
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  Cord stroked her glorious hair; his hands moved downward. Julia purred deep in her throat and ran her fingers lightly over his muscled arms. "It's been so long."

  "For me too," Julia acknowledged.

  The material of her jumpsuit shredded under his strong fingers as Cord fumbled with the fastenings. It was lucky that it was disposable.

  Julia laughed. "You make me do things I didn't think I'd ever do."

  Cord helped her out of the tatters. "Does that mean there are some positions left we haven't tried?"

  Julia pulled at his tunic. "Let's find out."

  They lay side by side on the soft bed; Cord touched her pale smooth skin with his rough tongue and traced intricate patterns with it across her ample breasts. His organ had emerged from its pouch and was uncurling. Julia moved away from him. He was about to protest until she shifted her position so that they were reversed head to toe.

  Gently she took him into her mouth, her tongue rolling about, gently probing, teasing. Cord moved her left leg over his broad chest and bent his head. Her alien musky scent was an intoxicating perfume from another world. His rough tongue went to work; soon she was writhing, grinding her pelvis into his body, under his own expert probing. Even with his shields up, he could feel Julia's desire.

  When they could stand it no more, Julia shifted position again and lay on her back. Cord loomed above her, his engorged organ larger than ever before. He molded himself to her heaving body and slowly began thrusting. Julia moaned and clutched at him. His tail came under him and probed for the second opening; it inched in slowly.

  He held his upper torso away from hers but entwined his legs with hers, holding her fast. Then with a maddening deliberation, he alternated slow thrusting. He wanted the pleasure to last forever.

  Julia began to make growling noises; then she moaned, she purred, she fought, she bit him. Finally his thrusts picked up momentum, both organ and tail smashing into Julia's soft flesh while she tried to impale herself on him with equal fervor. Cord let go as Julia was peaking; their colliding bodies spasmed in unison.