A man gestured for him to hurry and hustled him into a round clear tube barely large enough for his big frame. He didn’t even have time to relax before the hum of a turbine engine started like a swarm of angry bees.
“You’re a little late Mr. Smalley,” a voice echoed in his ears from some inner speaker, “so we’ll dispense with the preflight checklist.”
“Fine.” Never an enjoyable process, he had been through enough of these body jarring escapades to know the drill.
The voice in his ears squelched in and out between the swarming bees and ear piercing thumping of subsonic booms as the machine reached its optimal power output. “In a moment you’re going to feel a little queer sensation,” said the disembodied voice. “You should close your eyes and keep them closed until you arrive at your destination.” Another subsonic boom vibrated Rev and he remembered his last experience with vivid clarity. The voice returned. “Did you get your sedatives and stomach medicine from the doctor?” asked the voice.
“No,” he shouted back. “I drank too much scotch.”
“You’re going to regret that decision,” said the voice. “Are we ready?”
“What ‘we’ do you mean?” said Rev, really wishing he could’ve had the sedatives as his stomach twisted in anticipation.
The voice didn’t respond. Rev heard the whine of the engines increase to their ultimate crescendo. “No, wait,” said Rev, feeling dizzy.
The Stroustop field concentrated and Rev felt a warm tingly sensation in his limbs. Then his eyesight blurred and he actually thought he could see himself folding up like a piece of paper. First in half, so he saw his shoes. Then again, so he could inspect his butt. Disturbed that he could actually be folded to a point near infinity was just too much for him to watch, so he closed his eyes hoping it would end soon. Rev felt his ears pop from the pressure as he transitioned through an opening no larger than the eye of a needle. His trip was complete as he felt himself unfolding in just the opposite way. He opened his eyes seeing a very similar room, except it looked more sophisticated and cleaner somehow.
He shimmied out of the tube and abruptly yakked into the plastic-lined paper bag.
He had arrived on Tsunam, safe and sound, except for an empty stomach and huge hangover.
Chapter 3
REV FELT LIKE HIS HEAD was bursting at the seams from the blows of a smithy’s sledge hammer. He burped again and the taste of scotch welled up into his mouth. When he thought he couldn’t throw up anymore, his stomach heaved for the last time and he promptly filled the bag. Now he knew he was empty and actually felt much better for it. He didn’t smell any better though. A Tsunamian servant entered the transport chamber, handed him a towel and with two fingers carefully lifted the now full bag from Rev’s hands. The Tsunamian disposed of the waste into a floor incinerator and indicated he was to leave through the same door as the servant entered from.
There was not much difference between a Tsunamian and a human, except that there were only eight different body patterns they created in their eugenics laboratories. Each style was broken down into four male and four female variations for diversity. Although there were six billion Tsunamians on their planet, all comprised of the eight styles, each Tsunamian felt it their duty to accessorize themselves with makeup and/or a unique hairstyle to stand out from one another. The model Rev first encountered was a male with a distinctive Nordic look and a face that reached Rev’s shoulders. He was wearing a powder blue spandex one-piece jumper that revealed the shape of a muscular build and had slicked his blonde hair back with a layer of oil giving the impression of a bare skull. Not one of the Tsunamians were overweight or flawed by any disproportions and all were ambidextrous with perfectly engineered bodies. To Rev they looked like a toy created on an assembly line and he wasn’t that far off from the truth.
“Please follow me Mr. Smalley.”
Rev tried, but his legs teetered and the Tsunamian caught him before Rev dropped to the floor.
“Sorry,” said Rev. “I’m a little wobbly.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” he said. “It’s quite normal to be disorientated for a while after traveling. You should rest as soon as you can and in the morning you’ll be back to normal.”
“Maybe a little pick-me-up would help?” asked Rev.
“No,” said the Tsunamian wrinkling his perfect nose at the odor of the scotch. “Alcohol would hinder the recovery time. Drink a glass of protein and get some sleep would be my advice.”
“I’ll try,” said Rev, feeling that protein as a drink wouldn’t settle his stomach any better than swirling a blender full of peas. But he got the point about not having any more booze.
The Tsunamian helped Rev into what looked like an elevator and propped him against the side rail. Then he moved out in front and punched some codes into a panel.
“It was nice to assist you Mr. Smalley,” he said. “Have a pleasant trip.” With that, the door closed before Rev could give his response, the lights blinked and it felt very much like the Stroustop trip but much shorter. His stomach wanted to know why he was torturing it again with a sudden stab of sickness and Rev’s legs gave out from under him. He slid down on his butt. When the doors swished open, they revealed he was in a much fancier location.
Two presumably different Nordic males entered, lifted him from under his arms and dragged him into a lavishly decorated office of wood, stone and glass. The walls appeared to be of polished marble. Slabs of glass sculptures offset the openness of the room, glowing with a strange inner light as thick viscous liquids dribbled down their sides like bubbling waterfalls. Oddly, it was peaceful to watch the slow moving viscous liquid as it poured endlessly over the surface. A desktop table of some highly polished wood floated stationary in the center of the room as if by some magic trick. Its proportions were perfect and at the proper height for a human if they were sitting in the black well-worn leather chair tucked in behind the desk. Lighting seemed to emanate from small pinpoint lamps in the walls and ceiling, highlighting various sculptures and surfaces. Everything looked perfectly arranged to give the appearance of wealth and decadence. The two Nordics pointed Rev to a modest chair in front of the desk and left without speaking a word.
Rev fidgeted in the small chair. The proportions were just tight enough to make him uncomfortable with his hips scraping the inner sides. The armrests were too low, so he slouched down making himself look even more ridiculous than before. Eventually, he decided to try to stand but only got halfway up before his head rebelled. Back into the small chair he went and he cradled his head hoping he hadn’t damaged too many brain cells.
The room was beginning to stop spinning when a dark olive-skinned Tsunamian male with neat black hair entered from what looked like a side bathroom just behind a glass statue vaguely resembling a female form. His eyes met Rev’s as he dried his hands on a parchment-like towelette which disintegrated into thin air after he rubbed the water from his skin.
“So, you must be Rev Smalley,” said the Mediterranean Tsunam. “You’re a hard human to meet.”
Rev still held a hand to his right temple and massaged the soft tissue. “How do you do?” said Rev, trying to be polite but not feeling up to pleasant small talk.
“I do like I always do,” said the Tsunam.
“I’m sorry,” said Rev. “I meant it’s nice to meet you.”
“You humans have such a strange way of communicating,” he began. “I can’t keep up with all the various usages of your languages.”
Rev didn’t like the tone of this Tsunamian. The Mediterranean male model stared at Rev, sizing him up to some inner standards. “I’m not at all very pleased to meet you, Mr. Smalley. In fact, you’re the third human I’ve had to tolerate in my office in the last five days.”
“Ah—hmm,” stammered Rev, not knowing what he should say.
“And I want you to know, I’ll be watching you very closely now that we are embroiled in this unpleasant incident.”
“You mean o
ur missing agents I presume?”
“Of course I mean your missing agents and our murder, you moron.”
“Now just a minute—” objected Rev.
“Do please be quiet until I give you leave to speak,” he said. “You humans can be so difficult; such a young race . . . ” he continued with a glare that could down a rhino at fifty yards. Then he puffed himself up like he had made a big decision and crossed his arms against his chest. “My name is Regency Tuloff,” he said with authority, “and from this moment on until you leave our world, I’m responsible for your actions.”
* * *
REV DIDN’T LIKE HIS investigation controlled, especially by an arrogant bureaucrat. The sooner he could quietly slip away the better. “I don’t need someone being responsible for me,” said Rev.
“That’s too bad,” said Tuloff. “I’ve already been charged with making sure you don’t blunder as badly as the others. We thought you humans could assist us in solving one small murder, but now those two have got themselves involved with the Deviants.”
“The Deviants?”
“Yes, yes, didn’t you read the report we sent? Page four hundred fifteen, I believe it was on,” he said, raising his hand as if he was going to push a button. To Rev’s astonishment, a small beep sounded and a holographic screen popped up. Tuloff flicked his wrist turning digi-page after digi-page until stopping on a densely filled screen. “It says plainly right here.” He pointed. “The Deviants appear to be behind the recent unfortunate murder.”
“Who are the Deviants?” asked Rev.
“Didn’t you read the document?” asked Tuloff.
“Not exactly,” admitted Rev. “At least not all of it.”
Tuloff shook his head in disgust and wiped the air, making the screen disappear. Apparently he wasn’t pleased about rehashing the facts. But he composed himself and spoke in a calm, clear voice. “The Deviants are genetic mistakes caused by a recessive gene we can’t quite eradicate from our genome. Mutations occur among our people which don’t show up until much later in life. Usually it happens sometime after a few hundred years. Some have emotional problems while others have physical defects.”
“Would you elaborate on the emotional problems?” asked Rev.
“We don’t like to talk about it, but some of the Deviants actually become sexually active. Lately we’ve found some of these individuals bonding together in secluded locales. When questioned, they say they’re nurturing one another.”
“You mean that they’ve fallen in love with each other?”
“How repulsive,” said Tuloff, shuddering at the thought.
Rev felt an overwhelming desire to smack the living crud out of Tuloff, but continued his questioning. “Love is a peaceful emotion. Why do you think the Deviants are responsible for this murder?”
“Don’t be naive. Love always gives rise to violence. Once they turn to their corrupted behavior they soon experience jealousy, hate and revenge.”
Rev conceded the point with a nod. “So you think jealousy was the real motive?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Tuloff.
“How do you explain the mauling then?”
“I don’t,” said Tuloff. “That’s your job.”
“Where do I start to locate these Deviants?” asked Rev.
“You don’t. At least not alone this time.”
Rev was just about up to his limit with the smarmy tone and didn’t want to nursemaid a new partner. “I’m sorry Regency, I work alone,” said Rev, being as polite as possible given his ill condition and naturally gruff personality.
“Very well,” said Tuloff. “I’ll arrange for your return.”
Rev’s head cleared instantly and he started to protest. “But—”
“You’ll follow my orders or I’ll send you right back to Earth without so much as a peep and close our planet’s diplomatic ties from you humans for the next thousand years. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.” The word covered a myriad of responses Rev would have rather given.
“I expect you to inform me of any developments no matter how small you think they are and conduct yourself as if you were the ambassador from your planet. Impropriety will not be tolerated. Do you think you can handle the job?”
“Yes, sir,” said Rev.
“Good,” said Tuloff. “That’s settled.”
The P.I. brooded. He hated being manipulated which reminded him of being in the service, following mindless orders from even more mindless superiors. He could’ve been the one in charge if he just let others think for him, but it wasn’t his nature to go along with the crowd. He was a rebel and that held him back from promotion. Right now he wanted to jump out of the chair and plant a right cross on Tuloff’s smug face, but settled with just thinking about it instead.
Regency Tuloff moved to the front of his floating desk and motioned to what looked like one of the glass statues. “Now meet your new partner.”
The blob of glass wasn’t solid or shaped in any form but was more like a drop of water suspended in air. Inside the droplet Rev could see intricate circuitry flickering with pulses of neural activity. The orb floated over to Rev and introduced itself.
“Welcome to Tsunam, Mr. Smalley,” said the floating orb. “I will be your assistant and guardian while you investigate.”
Rev turned to Tuloff. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“On the contrary, this AI model will be able to help you immensely,” said Tuloff. “It’s our newest prototype automaton.”
“What do I call it?”
“Anything you like,” said Tuloff. “It hasn’t been imprinted yet so it’s fully programmable. Just tell it what you want to call it and it will respond to you.”
Rev thought for a moment and remembered an old book he read about a one-legged pirate and his parrot. He couldn’t quite remember the name of that parrot but the pirate’s name was Long John Silver. The parrot was—and he remembered. “I’ll call him Captain Flint. Flint for short.”
“If that’s what you want to name him,” said Tuloff. “So be it.”
The little orb bobbed and with a whirling noise poised itself above Rev’s right shoulder just like a parrot.
“What kind of tricks can he do?” asked Rev. “Do I have to feed it or take it for walks before bedtime?”
Tuloff sat down behind his desk and gave Rev a stormy gaze. “He does my tricks by watching you night and day,” said Tuloff. “You don’t need to feed him because he’s self regenerating and nearly indestructible. By the way, he never tires and is ever vigilant.”
“Well, I do get tired and this has been one hell of a night for me. May I be excused so I can regenerate?”
“Certainly,” said Tuloff, gesturing to Flint. “Take him to his quarters and see to it he visits the crime scene first thing in the morning.”
Flint nodded and whirling around, maneuvered towards the door. “This way please,” he chimed.
* * *
REV MANAGED TO NOT FALL down as Flint escorted him to what he thought was the elevator he arrived in.
“Whoa there Flint,” said Rev. “I don’t think I could take another trip in one of those things until I get my land legs.”
“What do you mean, land legs?” asked Flint. “You’ve been walking on land since you arrived on Tsunam.”
“It’s an expression us humans have when we’re wobbly. Just don’t make me take another trip in that thing until tomorrow.”
“You mean you want to walk to your room?” asked Flint. Rev nodded. Flint’s mind whirled louder, apparently plotting out a new course of action. Then the little machine said, “We could walk the causeway, but it will add an extra thirty minutes of time to reach our destination.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Rev, much relieved. “Show me the way.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Smalley,” said Flint, moving onto the elevator. “We still have to use the transmat to get us to the ground floor but I can set it not to fold space if that’s what
bothers you.”
“Great,” nodded the human, stepping into the elevator. “And call me Rev from now on.”
Flint was true to his word and the elevator door opened on the ground floor without Rev’s stomach complaining. They walked through the doors and into the night air of Tsunam. It was rather brisk with his breath barely visible. Dew sparkled off of the leafy plants that lined immaculately clean sidewalks. There were absolutely no strolling people or even a place for small vehicles to travel on the causeway. Only a few workers pruning or arranging perennials with purple and pink buds could be seen off in the distance.
“Where’s the traffic?” asked Rev. “Why’re the streets empty? Don’t you have the bustle of a night life on Tsunam?”
“There isn’t any traffic because there aren’t any streets,” said Flint. “On Tsunam, people use the transmats locally to arrive at their destinations. The people you see are assigned to their work to make our homes and parks beautiful.”
“Do people here ever travel by walking?” asked Rev.
“Not very often,” said Flint. “But that doesn’t mean the spaces between the buildings are vacant. Gardeners care for the landscape so others may enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Rev looked around and saw high rises in every direction. Some had pointy spires interspersed with others of rectangular shapes. Most had very little ornateness to them and looked extremely practical in design.
“Just how many live here in the city?” asked Rev, walking at a leisurely pace.
“Two billion, four hundred million, seven hundred fifty-seven thousand, two hundred and six live just here in Scion,” said Flint. “There, of course, are twenty other major cities on Tsunam, all about the same size and capacity.”
“That many. All without crime?”
“There is crime as Regency Tuloff said. There are the Deviants in each city, but they do not usually draw attention to themselves for fear of being arrested.”
“What happens if they’re arrested?”
“I am not privileged with that information,” answered Flint.
The Beast of Tsunam (Rev Smalley: Galactic P.I. Book 1) Page 3
