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

by Combs, Scott A.

  They then followed their lead on Willa to the Eugenics Laboratory. When they arrived, Rev was in awe as he measured the impressive building that loomed high above most of the buildings in the outskirts of the city. It was a beautiful, intricately designed skyscraper of indigo blue glass with multiple towers joined with hundreds of walkways between each of them that resembled the threads of a spider’s web. Rev could safely say he’d never seen anything quite like it before; delicate and also hauntingly complicated on a magnificent scale. Rev wondered how he’d ever find one individual inside such a huge building. Both neared the entrance and Flint sensed Rev’s trepidation.

  “It’s larger than I thought,” remarked the man, departing from the usual swagger.

  “This is where all Tsunamians are born. For millions of years this building has replenished their race. Right now, millions could be harvested if the need arose.”

  “Like plague or an epidemic?” asked Rev.

  “Not likely,” said Flint. “Disease has been conquered along with the secrets of aging long ago. I’m talking about aggression, war, expansionism⁠—⁠things of that nature.”

  “That’s reassuring,” said Rev. “So if the Tsunam want to wage war they can just cook up a batch of warriors to replace their losses?”

  “They could,” said Flint, “but I really meant an attack on them or some other race becoming the aggressor.”

  “So the people of Tsunam don’t die?”

  “Not from old age. Like you, their life spans have been adjusted and aging is no longer a factor. They pass on willingly when they get tired of existing. Most last until they approach a hundred thousand years when they simply lose the will to continue.”

  “I suppose they’ve done everything they want in their lives by then,” said Rev matter-of-factly.

  “At any rate, the attrition process is passive where the individual checks into the reclamation center in this building and their bodies are put to sleep. It’s very natural actually,” reassured Flint.

  “I see nothing natural at all about the Tsunamian way,” said Rev. “It actually scares the hell out of me that the human race started down this path with my kind until the government was forced by the people to intervene and put a stop to the eugenics projects. Magnus and myself, I don’t know how long the two of us will live⁠—⁠if we don’t have an accident⁠—⁠or even if we’ll keep our mental faculties as we age. You’re dealt your cards and that’s all there is to it. I, for one, will accept death when it comes, in whatever fashion it takes.”

  “Well said,” remarked Flint. “If I were a living organism I’d have to say I’d live life as fully as I could for as long as I’m able.”

  “Amen, brother,” said Rev, walking through massive arching glass doors.

  They found the courtesy desk, which wasn’t very hard since it was a giant round counter in the middle of the lobby with plenty of Tsunamian attendants, all helping others as they entered the massive building. Hordes of people of all eight phenotypes walked about on tasks or assisting others as escorts. When an individual looked lost, one of the assistants would come over, introduce themselves and immediately assign an escort/guide/guard. This is just what happened for them. A perfectly shaped auburn-haired woman approached and introduced herself.

  “You must be Mr. Smalley.” The woman smiled. “My name is Jana Welton. I’m to assist you while you’re here. How can I direct you?”

  “Please call me Rev.”

  Flint piped up, “I’m his partner, Flint.”

  She nodded and motioned for them to follow her. “I was told you’ll be investigating the murder we’ve all heard about.”

  “That’s true.”

  “It must be very exciting to be an investigator,” she said.

  “Sometimes it is, but someone has to die before I’m brought on board.”

  “Too true,” she responded. “Murder must be a horrible part of your career. What can I do for you today, Rev?”

  “I’m trying to locate an employee,” said Rev. “A Willa Thoust to be precise.”

  “Do you know which department she might be under?”

  “I’m sorry, no, I don’t.”

  “No matter. If she works here, I’ll find her,” Jana said as all three entered a small office off the main atrium. Jana seated herself behind her desk and went to work on a computer which popped up, floating in position. Rev and Flint stood and watched her manipulate the data input on an invisible keyboard.

  “Take a seat if you wish.” She nodded at some seats. “We have over three million employees. I’ll try to cross reference her by matching her body type. Do you know what model she is?”

  “No, I don’t,” said Rev, sitting in a comfortably padded chair with no arms. “But she probably worked with a woman named Tee Sorse, a blonde.”

  “That will help quite a bit.” Jana inputted the data, tapping on the floating screen. After just a few seconds she looked puzzled.

  “Did you find something?” asked Flint, floating behind her to get a better look.

  “I found Tee Sorse, she is one of the research doctors in our experimental facility, but there isn’t any record of a Willa Thoust ever working here.”

  “How could that be?” asked Rev.

  “It’s possible she’s euthanized,” explained Jana. “When an individual elects to be terminated, they can authorize their records expunged from the system.”

  “There won’t be any record of her then?” asked Rev.

  “Not through the normal channels. I’ll have to access the hall of records.”

  “Can you do that from here?” The P.I. ran fingers through his spiked hair, distracted in thought and leaning back in his too-small chair.

  “I’ll have to get permission, but I was to help in all your requests, so we should be able to get clearance. Flint, what is your ID number?”

  Finally the large screen, viewable from any angle, flashed a picture of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Nordic woman, with the name printed under it in bold type. Across the top, a strip of red with white letters was printed along with a date.

  “I found her,” said Jana. “It says here she euthanized herself at the reclamation center just three days ago. That’s odd,” commented Jana.

  “What?” asked Rev.

  “It’s just that she was so young.”

  “How young?” asked Flint.

  “She was just five years old,” said Jana surprised.

  * * *

  REV AND FLINT GOT DIRECTIONS to the research lab where Tee and Willa had worked and made their way to a transmat elevator. Rev was brooding.

  “You’re thinking aren’t you?” asked Flint. Rev rolled his eyes and glared at the little machine. Seeing his remark was taken poorly, Flint followed in silence until he couldn’t help himself. “It’s uncommon that someone so young decides to terminate, but it does happen. They might discover they’re a Deviant and can’t take the ridicule or they find they just can’t exist doing their assigned job. Many fall into this category.”

  “Not Willa. I’m sure of it.”

  “How can you be so sure? You haven’t even met her,” said Flint.

  “Because, Braz was protecting her if what Sybil said was true. Braz has deep convictions when he puts his mind to it. If she terminated, it’s because Braz was unable to protect her. Which leads me to think she was also murdered. Or . . . ”

  “Or what?”

  “No,” said Rev to himself. “Could Braz be that clever?”

  “Please, tell me,” Flint begged.

  “What if the only way to protect Willa was to terminate her?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “If you want someone to escape danger, sometimes the best way to do so is to make that person appear to be dead. The Reclamation Center automatically expunges their records, Braz hides Willa and voila, no more danger.”

  “That’s brilliant,” exclaimed Flint.

  “Now, we only have to find out where Willa is hiding and we’ll find Br
az to boot.”

  “That doesn’t sound so easy,” said Flint.

  With that, the two came to a formidable door with warning signs posted on either side. Guarding the door were two sentries.

  “Looks like the place.”

  “They won’t let us in, even with our clearances from Regency Tuloff,” said Flint. “I could incapacitate them if you could divert their attention for a moment.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I think we’re expected,” said Rev, producing Tee’s security pass and sliding the card into the lock.

  “Please identify yourself and register with the sentries,” came a slightly agitated male voice.

  Rev did as he was asked. The sentries put a code into the lock pad, and the doors slid open for them to enter. Inside was a plain unadorned hallway that sloped downward. As they made their way, a series of decontamination washes bathed the two. One was a liquid, the next were jets of hot gases, the last was an ultraviolet burst which blinded Rev for a moment. When they found themselves at the bottom, Rev felt as if he had gone through the whole wash cycle at a laundromat.

  A dark-haired male in a lab jacket met them sourly. “I’ve been expecting someone from the authorities to show up with Tee’s passcard, but I didn’t expect a human and an outdated automaton.”

  “Outdated?” exclaimed Flint.

  “That’s okay buddy,” said Rev, putting himself between the two of them. “I’m sure⁠—⁠” Rev paused and read the ID tag on his jacket, “Dr. Ziller here is only concerned about Ms. Sorse. Isn’t that right doc?”

  “Yes, certainly. She’s been missing for days and my requests to the authorities haven’t been answered. Do you have news of her whereabouts?”

  “I’m sorry to inform you she was the victim of foul play,” said Rev.

  “I was afraid of that,” said Ziller. “I suppose I’ll have to complete the paperwork for a replacement, but Tee could never be replaced. She was a very gifted geneticist. It’ll take years to recover from this tragedy.”

  “We’re very sorry for your loss,” said Flint, softening to the doctor, who really did look concerned. It was still hard to tell if he was distraught over the death of Tee or what that meant to his work. At any rate, he deserves at least some comfort, thought Flint.

  “I’ve been rude,” said the doctor. “My name is Marion Ziller, Head of Bioengineering Research.” He reached out to shake hands with the tall investigator.

  Rev took the hand and sized up this Dr. Ziller. His hand shake was weak and his palms were sweating. It didn’t take much deducing to realize the good doctor was afraid. Afraid of Rev or something else was still to be determined.

  “That’s okay doc. I can understand your concerns. Can you tell us a little bit about Tee?”

  “Dr. Sorse,” said Ziller around a deep breath, “held many degrees in the field of genetics, along with bio-reconstruction and a half a dozen other related fields. She was the best employee I had and worked on all the exciting projects. Her loss will set us back a thousand years I’m afraid.”

  “Can you think of anyone who would want her dead? Say, maybe an envious colleague perhaps?” asked Rev.

  “Absolutely not,” he exclaimed. “If someone wanted more responsibility, all they’d need to do is show aptitude and the willingness to pursue excellence. I’m a very progressive manager.”

  “I’m sure you are. We are just trying to understand why she would be victimized the way we found her.”

  “How was she killed?” asked Ziller.

  “Dr. Ziller,” said Flint, “we aren’t at liberty to discuss the matter further than that she was murdered. You understand the position we’re in.”

  “Certainly, but there are rumors she was eaten by the Beast.”

  “You’ve heard of the Beast?” asked Rev.

  “Growing panic and gossip is all,” he said. “I haven’t actually heard of anyone seeing the creature first hand, but, you know how these things get started. Someone says that another saw it and so forth.”

  “Gossip is hard to stop, but we really can’t tell you any more,” said Rev.

  Flint floated to a position on the left of Rev and said, “We’ve heard you lost two of your employees this week.”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” said Ziller.

  “Tee Sorse,” said Flint, “and another by the name of Willa Thoust.”

  “Willa?” said Ziller, confused. “That can’t be. I just saw her in her office.”

  Chapter 9

  DR. ZILLER TOOK THEM TO Willa’s office. Rev pulled out his 9800 las-pistol from its holster and released the safety. His firm arm pushed Ziller back. “You stay here,” commanded Rev. “Flint, on my left.”

  Flint obeyed, positioning himself ready for action. Rev pushed the lock pad but all that happened was a resounding negative beep.

  “The door’s locked,” said Ziller. “You won’t be able to enter without an overriding security code.”

  “You have one?” asked Rev. Ziller nodded. “Open it then,” raged Rev.

  Ziller fumbled in his pocket and produced his passcard, swiping it over the lock pad. The negative beep sounded again. “I don’t understand. I have clearance to every room in this facility.”

  “Stand back,” said Flint, as he lowered himself to get a better look. “Someone has purposely reconstructed the security circuits. Let me try to reboot the original settings.” The little machine hummed and clicked, talking machine language to the security pad. Finally ready, he swiped his thin arm and got the same negative sounding beep even louder than before.

  “I guess they’re better at sabotage than I,” sighed Flint.

  “Stand back both of you,” said Rev, pointing his las-pistol at the security pad.

  “Don’t!” shouted Ziller. “You’ll set off the alarms.”

  But it was too late.

  Rev pulled the trigger and a bright white flash erupted on the security panel. Alarms started wailing. Sparks flew from fused circuits, sizzling. Where there once was a smooth surfaced security panel, now a gapping, charred mess swayed in the blast aftermath. The door slid open partially, with a swish, but hung up half way. The mechanism kept attempting to finish its task by closing and opening over and over again.

  Rev timed the door swishing open, grabbed the doorframe with his left hand and yanked the door completely open. He moved into the office with the 9800 las-pistol extended and found nothing. No Willa. No misplaced papers, not even the plants seemed mussed from his forced entry.

  Flint followed behind his mentor and hovered about, poking his mechanical nose into every nook and cranny he could find. Ziller stood just inside the damaged doorframe and looked puzzled.

  “She was just here. I swear it.”

  “I believe you,” said Rev. “Why else would the door be set to let no one enter?”

  “Could she have escaped from some other egress in this room?” asked Flint bobbing at Ziller.

  “None that I’m aware of. This door is the only way in or out.”

  “Could she have a portable transmat?” asked Rev.

  “Highly unlikely.” The doctor frowned. “Besides, you’d see it here and I don’t, do you?”

  “Then she left by the door and set the lock to let no one else casually enter,” said Rev.

  “Maybe she wanted something to stay in here,” said Flint.

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Rev. “Doc, please leave and shut the alarms off. Flint and I will continue our investigation. If we have questions, we’ll search you out.” Ziller nodded and quickly left. In just a minute the alarms silenced and Rev could finally think again. He paced the room and prodded things on her desk. Flint watched intently, wondering what he could do to help.

  “Why would she leave in such a manner?” asked Flint.

  “The fact that she left gives us more clues to ponder,” replied Rev.

  “How so?”

  “First, our supposition that she’s alive and incognito is reaffirmed. Second, she can’t be publ
icly found for fear of endangering her life. And lastly, she must have left us something in here to locate her, but I’ll be damned if I can find it.”

  Flint flew over to the desk and bumped the lamp slightly making it rattle and wobble until it came still again. Rev looked at the lamp. It was lit and actually was the only light on in the small office. The light shown on her desk, not illuminating anything in particular. Then it dawned on him that the light was the clue.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that the only lighting on in this room is this small desk lamp?”

  “It appears she left in a rush and forgot to turn it off,” said Flint.

  “Maybe she wanted us to see it first when we did enter the room.”

  “That would be very clever,” said Flint. “Like a small beacon to get your attention.”

  “I think so too.” Rev lifted the small chrome lamp and twisted the articulating neck. He inspected the flange and eventually made a close inspection of the base. He drummed the base with his fingers, making a hollow sound. Rev shook the lamp; it rattled. Closer inspection showed it could be twisted open and he soon had the lamp disassembled, finding a familiar black leather wallet. He flipped it open and recognized Braz’s badge.

  “There you are,” said Rev, showing the gold badge to Flint. “It’s Braz’s.”

  “That’s good isn’t it?” asked Flint.

  “Well, I hope so,” said Rev. “I could think of a few scenarios why she left the badge for us; not all good.”

  “Like?” prompted Flint.

  “For one, to tell us that Braz is still alive and we’re on the right track.”

  “And another?”

  “That Braz is in trouble or dead and she wanted me to have his badge.”

  “That’s not very reassuring,” said Flint.

  “I’m not too concerned yet. Willa appears to be very clever. I’m sure if we delve deeper we’ll find more than just Braz’s badge.”

  Rev searched the wallet and ran a finger inside the leather flaps adjacent to the badge. Then he put an index finger behind the badge finding a small info chip. Pulling it out, he inspected it, and then handed it to Flint.

  “I think we might have a third theory,” said Rev quietly. “One that’s better discussed away from prying eyes.”