The Beast of Tsunam (Rev Smalley: Galactic P.I. Book 1)

by Combs, Scott A.

“Ha Ha. Funny boy. Get the hell out of here.”

  Rev got up and stretched, smoothed his pants and patted the weapon on his side before turning to leave. When he got to the door he once again stopped, turned and faced Magnus. His features stern, without a hint that he’d drunk enough to put down a bull elephant.

  “Our business isn’t quite done is it?” asked Magnus.

  “No,” said Rev bluntly.

  Magnus knew him well enough to anticipate what was coming. No one could challenge Rev’s integrity and once he uttered a thing, that thing was the truth. A solemn oath Rev never broke.

  “If I find them,” Rev paused. “And I will,” he said slowly.

  Magnus braced himself.

  “If they’re no longer with the living . . . ”

  Magnus clenched the corner of his desk.

  “I’ll kill you,” said Rev flatly.

  “I know.”

  Chapter 2

  MAGNUS GAVE REV a new data disk containing the facts up to this point since the first chip hadn’t survived their first meeting. Rev rubbed the chip between thumb and index finger, finding the small groove indicating which end to insert into his reader. He sipped the scotch straight from the bottle as he walked the corridors of the EIA to the transport tube distractedly reading the brief.

  Apparently the Tsunam found the body of a female in their Central Park, mauled to death. A death was bad enough but a brutal dismemberment scared the crap out of them. Rev marveled at the historical reference to the last known murder on Tsunamian soil which was dated a mere nine thousand eight hundred and seventy some odd years ago when their society was recovering from their last eugenics war. Since then only a handful of violent crimes had occurred, usually from some genetic blunder that caused insanity among the perpetrator.

  Cassie and Braz investigated the crime scene. They found evidence indicating the victim had been nibbled on by some unknown creature and were in the act of identifying the body when they suddenly went missing.

  Rev shut the reader off and returned it to his coat pocket. It was very early in the morning, the sun was just starting to peek through clouds on the horizon. Reaching the old building’s exit, he pushed the ‘Please Send a Transport’ button and pulled another swig from the nearly empty scotch bottle.

  “God, I hate interstellar travel,” he said out loud to no one.

  He chugged the remaining scotch and stuffed the empty bottle into a trash bin which thanked him for ‘keeping his city clean for others.’

  A familiar chime sounded as the transport pulled up to the curb. With a swish the passenger door opened. He lumbered in, noticing the effects the scotch had on his balance and promptly fell into the leather back seat. A pretty voice asked him where he was bound. He knew it was the automated navigator but her voice always reminded him of some movie star from when there were movie houses, but he couldn’t quite remember who she was.

  “To the Stroustop facility on Silicon Way, off of Thirty-Second Street, sweetheart.”

  “I understand you might be traveling out of the solar system this morning, Mr. Smalley?” asked the pretty voice.

  “That’s right. I’m off to Tsunam.”

  “Will you be needing any preflight relaxants?” she asked as a small compartment opened next to his chair that lit up with various drug descriptions and who should use them.

  “No, not at this time. I’m about as relaxed as a dead cat.”

  “Very well sir,” she said, and the little compartment closed. “Your travel time is estimated to be less than ten minutes. Please sit back and enjoy your trip.”

  With that, the passenger door closed with a familiar swish and the electric engines revved until the transport jockeyed onto the plasma lane where it barreled off at high speed.

  Rev closed his eyes and felt a little car sick, he guessed either from the motion or the liquor. The cabin spun in a clockwise direction and he forced his mind to counteract impending vertigo by willing it to go in the opposite direction. In the end he had to open his eyes and watch the sunrise. Then the spinning stopped.

  The ride was over sooner than expected and he paid the fare by swiping his credential wallet over the sensor.

  “Thank you and have a pleasant trip Mr. Smalley,” replied the sweet voice.

  “There’s not a chance in hell that’s going to happen,” he said as the transport backed up and left.

  He looked up just in time to see a green flash of light stream from the teleport tower. He’d only traveled once by the Stroustop method and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. If he remembered it right, the technology for black hole travel had been theorized for over a hundred years but the physicists couldn’t quite get a handle on how to create one without imploding the whole planet. But thanks to the Alliance, that knowledge was provided and with a little help, the human race could now travel among the stars without primitive space crafts. Of course, space travel was necessary but not very practical, especially for long trips of prolonged zero gravity. The bones become weak and brittle in just a few days. Atrophied muscles had to be exercised constantly to keep the internal organs healthy. The Stroustop method folded time and space allowing the traveler to cross vast distances within seconds. Rev always had to envision a piece of paper being folded up over and over again until the surface of the paper was so compressed that it no longer resembled its original self. Once the mass of the traveler was no larger than the head of a pin, he’d be sucked through the black hole and unfolded on the other side. It sounded painful but in fact it just disorientated the traveler being compressed into inner space and shaken out like a dish towel on the other side. At any rate, Rev fretted over the experience and didn’t expect it to get any better by making a habit of it.

  A stunningly beautiful redhead sashayed up to him wearing a government-issued black dress, carrying a small accessory bag and clipboard. He watched her hips do that thing women do when they know a man is impressed. “You must be Mr. Smalley,” she said smiling up at him.

  “Please call me Rev.”

  “Very well. You can call me Miss Stewart,” she said coolly.

  “Can I ask your first name?”

  “Certainly.”

  Rev waited for more, when nothing came, he rolled his eyes trying not to ogle her firm breasts as a response, but failed. “Magnus warned you about me and redheads?” asked Rev.

  “Redheads, blondes, brunettes and any other hair color,” she said, watching him watch her.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She nodded. “Rev, your departure is being prepared as we speak, so if you’ll follow me to the preflight exam⁠—⁠”

  “Will you be examining me?” He couldn’t help himself fitting into the role Magnus started. He told himself it was the alcohol, but knew better.

  She didn’t skip a beat at the innuendo and continued her speech. “We’ll have you on your way in no time at all. And no, I won’t be your examiner. But if you want, I’ll be right outside the door in case you need me.”

  “That’s very comforting to know,” he said, feeling the fool for playing such a cheap line. “Tell me something?”

  “What would that be?”

  “Have they improved the system to be any easier than the last time I went through a hole?”

  “That depends on how long ago you experienced a Stroustop Anomaly?”

  “Let’s just say fifty years or so,” he replied.

  Miss Stewart gave him an odd look. “So you’re as old as they say you are?” Rev nodded. “Well then, yes there’s been vast improvements in accuracy and improved power consumption over the last fifty years.”

  “What about the actual trip?” he asked.

  “You mean the disorientation?”

  He nodded.

  “Now, Rev,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a big boy and I bet you can take a little motion sickness can’t you?”

  “I remember a lot of motion sickness,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

  She patted him ag
ain reassuringly. “You’ll do just fine.”

  “Maybe drinking a bottle of scotch wasn’t the smartest thing to do,” he said.

  “I’ll give you a personal container to carry with you for when you arrive,” she said.

  “You mean a barf bag,” said Rev.

  She smiled.

  * * *

  THE DOOR TO THE EXAMINING room closed with a loud click. Rev found he was locked in a sterile, stainless steel room. A steel contoured table commanded the center of the room with movable lamps that hung down like emaciated arms dangling from the ceiling. The counter tops, which lined the walls, were covered with neatly arranged tools; Rev was not looking froward to being introduced to their purpose.

  He stood motionless waiting. Part of the wall slid back and a man in green scrubs with a light build and three day’s growth of beard entered. His eyes were tired, he tapped notes about Rev on his medical chart. Without even looking up, he started the exam like a routine performed a thousand times before.

  “Strip to your shorts please, Mr. Smalley, and take a seat on the exam table,” he said, gesturing towards the menacing furniture. Rev did as requested, piling clothes haphazardly on a small stool and scooting up onto the freezing cold table.

  “Any case of seizures in your family?” the doctor continued.

  Rev shook his head.

  “Please answer verbally with a yes or no, if you don’t mind,” said the doctor, raising the digi-pad to remind his patient how medical records were stored.

  “No.” Rev sounded defiant and the doctor stopped tapping. “I mean, no, I’ve never had a seizure.”

  The doctor nodded and his tapping continued, “Or heart disease, diabetes, cancer, tumors of any kind, hemophilia or other rare blood disorders?”

  “No, no, no, no, no and no.”

  “Any sexually transmitted diseases you’d like to divulge, past or present?”

  “No.”

  “Any colds or flu like symptoms in the last forty-eight hours?”

  “No.”

  “Good, then let’s take a look at you.” For the first time he looked up and gave Rev the once over. “It says here on your chart that you’re one of the two remaining eugenics prototype soldiers known to exist?”

  “That’s right.”

  The doctor raised Rev’s arm and peered closely at his armpit. “I’ve read some interesting things about your kind,” he said. “Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but is it true about your abilities?”

  “Which abilities?”

  “You know,” he hinted. “Increased strength, intelligence, endurance and recuperative powers?”

  Rev picked up a stainless steel hammer from the tray next to the examining table and with his left hand bent it in half with two fingers.

  “Amazing,” said the doctor. “And you’re really one hundred and thirty years old?”

  “Yes, come next September.”

  The doctor stuck an otoscope into Rev’s ear. “You don’t appear to look a day over forty.”

  “Thirty-eight,” said Rev peevishly. “I don’t look a day over thirty-eight. I’ve looked this way my entire life.”

  The doctor continued his examination and peered into Rev’s mouth. “Say, ah please,” he commanded, Rev complied.

  The smell of alcohol drenched the room. The doctor pulled the scope away and scowled. “Mr. Smalley,” he scolded. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Yes,” said Rev. “Just a little bit.”

  “A lot by the smell of it. Just how much is a little bit?”

  “A whole bottle of scotch,” said Rev, slurring his words. And then he remembered he didn’t drink it all and he added, “except for one shot.”

  “Are you telling me you drank the whole bottle?”

  “It was very good scotch,” reassured Rev.

  The doctor folded his arms in disgust. “Did you eat anything before drinking this bottle of scotch?”

  “No.”

  “Simply amazing,” he said. “You should be totally incapacitated.”

  The doctor moved behind Rev and thumped him with thumbs and fingers. The sound boomed like a drum as it echoed from Rev’s lungs.

  “Increased lung capacity,” observed the doctor. “High resistance to toxins and a low percentage of body fat.”

  Rev knew he could hold his liquor, probably because of his size and more likely the eugenics enhancements that made him stronger, smarter and resistant to many common ailments standard people had to endure, especially alcohol, drugs, bruising, headaches and whatever else one could imagine. He could be beaten to a pulp and wake up in the morning feeling rejuvenated. To him it was just a fact of life, but he also knew it to be a curse. He was tired of being perfect.

  “I can handle a lot more scotch if you have a bottle around here?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t, Mr. Smalley,” said the doctor and he returned to face his patient.

  “Well, it was worth a try,” said Rev.

  “You’re going to regret the intake of such a large quantity of alcohol when you arrive at your destination. But that can’t be helped now. I can’t even give you the normal tranquilizers or stomach suppressants due to the volume you’ve ingested. It could be dangerous.”

  “That’s okay doc,” said Rev, “they don’t work on me anyway.”

  “You’re probably right since you’re⁠—⁠”

  “A freak,” Rev interrupted.

  “I meant to say ‘special,’ but yes, you’re a freak and not ‘of nature,’ if I might use the term,” said the doctor.

  “No problem. I’ve been called worse,” said Rev. “We all through here?”

  “Not quite,” answered the doctor with the look doctors have when something unpleasant has to be done.

  Rev guessed what the look meant. “Do we have to?”

  “It’s procedure,” he said slipping vinyl gloves on. “Stand up, drop your shorts and cough when indicated.”

  “I usually only do this for the girls,” said Rev, as he lowered his shorts.

  The doctor probed a little harder than usual under his testicles. “Just turn your head and cough.”

  Rev did while the doctor examined both sides with Rev making his coughs as loud as he could. When the doctor was satisfied, Rev bent down to raise his shorts.

  “Ahem,” said the doctor stopping Rev as he lubricated his index finger. “Just one more examination.”

  “Oh, crap,” said Rev turning around and bending over.

  * * *

  “REV,” CALLED MISS STEWART rapping lightly on the door of the exam room. “Time is getting short. Ready?”

  The doctor had just finished and was washing his hands as Rev was pulling up his shorts when the door opened a crack and the head of the gorgeous redhead peeked around shyly. Rev wasn’t embarrassed at the eyeful she got, but he made an effort to be modest as his shorts snugged up around his waist instead of his ankles.

  “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” she said, looking embarrassed, “but we’re on a tight schedule.”

  Rev yanked his pants up, pulling his shirt down into place. He tucked half of the shirt tail into his pants and tightened his belt. Socks and shoes came next and he hopped along as his feet slammed/slipped into the loafers in one step each, scuffing the linoleum floor with a long black streak. A quick toss and his jacket was draped over his shoulder. The ensemble didn’t look like he was ready for his picture to be taken but he made up for it with a warm smile.

  “I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” he said, sliding the door open and brushing up next to her.

  “We just have time to get you to the departure tube.”

  Rev tucked the rest of his shirt tail into his waist.

  “You don’t mind me driving you in the cart?” she asked as she hurried to a small, rather sleek inner-office transport.

  “You’re the boss-lady,” said Rev, jumping into the passenger seat.

  “I love this thing,” she said, gunning the machine and squeali
ng the tires.

  The transport cart weaved in and out of hallway traffic narrowly missing a few people who didn’t heed the blaring horn fast enough. Rev admired Stewart’s driving skills as she increased velocity down the wide hallways and terminals.

  “You handle this baby pretty good,” said Rev, gripping the railing for support in anticipation of her next move.

  “I love to rattle the cage of these old farts,” she said, making another quick maneuver around a corner. The cart swerved to the left and the tires squealed again. She corrected the little vehicle with style and gunned the accelerator.

  “You didn’t seem like a rebel to me when we met,” said Rev.

  “Then you don’t know me very well,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I don’t get enough excitement around here carting rich old men to their vacations. The only time I get riled up is when they try to pinch my rear and I have to get rough.” She raised her fist and indicated a punch.

  “Are we going to make it?” asked Rev, starting to get sick to his stomach again.

  “Should,” she said, as she flung the vehicle to the right and slammed on the brakes in front of a gangway that lead to the departure tubes. “You’re here,” she declared triumphantly. “Just go up those steps and down to departure station fifteen,” she instructed.

  “Thanks, Miss Stewart,” said Rev, getting out of the cart.

  “You can call me Reese,” she said, with a warm smile.

  “I must’ve made a better impression than I thought,” said Rev.

  “No, not really. You’re just what Magnus said you’d be. Big, bad, tall and a heart breaker.”

  “I’m not,” he protested.

  “I have a feeling you’re more a lady killer than you’d like to admit, but you are cute,” she said. “Look me up sometime when you get back.”

  “Absolutely Miss Stewart.”

  “Please, Reese,” she said, as she handed him a small plastic-lined paper bag and then turned the cart around in the hallway waving goodbye.

  Rev smiled and watched her squeal the tires around a sharp turn and she was gone. Nothing like flirting when it comes to meeting a pretty woman, he thought. Then his mind went to what he had to do and he climbed the stairs on his way to departure station fifteen.