“Since they’re printed on the wall behind you, and I’m not blind, then I’d say your question was redundant.” Hamilton smiled.
The clerk was unfazed. “And how long will you be staying?”
Hamilton shrugged, considering. “One night, possibly two. Maybe more.”
“That’s not very helpful, sir.” The clerk frowned.
“Best I can do at the moment.”
“I’ll put you down for one night. You can always extend your stay if you wish.” The clerk said, diplomatically, though it was obvious he hoped Hamilton wouldn’t be staying any longer than necessary.
“Sounds fine.” Hamilton agreed.
“And how will you be paying, sir?”
Hamilton unzipped a pocket in his jumpsuit and produced a wallet of plastic cards. The clerk looked on apprehensively. People with cards tended to be one of two types. Either middle-class bad credit risks or filthy rich. The poor simply weren’t issued cards.
“Ah!” Hamilton exclaimed. “There it is.”
The clerk raised an eyebrow at the proffered card. It was completely white except for the logo InterDyne Corporation. As Hamilton didn’t look like a corporate executive, the clerk said. “Excuse me a moment, sir. We have a standard policy of checking all card transactions. I’m sure you understand.”
Hamilton nodded affably. “Go ahead.” he said, to the clerk’s back.
In fact, Hamilton was quite proud of that card. It had been his fee from a previous client. A simple bit of detective work had uncovered serious fraudulent mis-use of corporate funds by the client’s direct competitor. The client had received a big promotion. Hamilton had received the card, which allowed him to draw on the corporation’s expense account to the tune of one thousand credits a month. Hamilton loved that card. He was never without food or shelter so long as he had it with him. He even bought less legal supplies on it. Considering that this hotel’s rooms ran to one hundred and eighty a night, Hamilton doubted he’d be staying longer than a week, whatever came of his meeting.
The clerk returned from a nearby console, smiling. Hamilton already knew what the screen would have told him. The card belonged to one James Hamilton, Special Executive of InterDyne, and would also list his credit limit.
“Everything seems to be in order, sir.” The clerk said. “If you would just verify the card.”
Hamilton pressed his thumb against the card and held it there for a few seconds. The card shifted through a rainbow of colours, finally settling on a calming shade of green.
“That’s fine, sir. I’ve already keyed in the night’s transaction. You can agree it when you leave.”
Hamilton nodded. He’d have little choice but to agree the transaction. If he didn’t, then his card would turn black and become useless. It required a computer instruction to clear the card. In this instance, barring tampering, that instruction could only come from the hotel computer.
The clerk beckoned to a bellboy. “Joseph here will show you to your room, sir.”
Hamilton nodded. The bellboy collected Hamilton’s bag from the doorman, who had been lurking behind Hamilton all the while in case he was unable to pay, and the electronic keycard from the clerk. The doorman headed toward the entrance. The bellboy turned toward the elevator.
“Just a moment.” Hamilton said to him. He turned back to the clerk. “I wonder if you could tell me if a business associate of mine is staying here. His name is Vogerian. Paul Vogerian. We arranged to meet here today.”
The clerk returned to his computer terminal. “I’ll see if there are any messages.”
Hamilton and the bellboy waited patiently. The lobby was mostly empty. At the far end, away from the entrance, were the elevators. To either side of the four elevators was a broad entrance leading deeper into the hotel complex. The one to the left was labelled “Restaurant”. The other was labelled, somewhat vaguely, “Facilities”. There were few people about.
The clerk returned. “Mr Vogerian is staying here, sir. He left a message requesting that you go up to his suite once you had unpacked. It’s room one seven nine three.”
Hamilton nodded. “Could you contact him and say that I’ll be up in about an hour.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Give him my room number if he wants to get in contact before then.”
“As you wish, sir.” The clerk said. “I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
“Me too.” Hamilton grunted.
CHAPTER TWO
Hamilton’s room was as well furnished and appointed as the lobby had been but he spent little time admiring it. By the time he’d cleaned up, showered, shaved, dressed in his spare - and clean - jumpsuit and ordered something to eat from room service he found he had only five minutes left before his self-appointed time limit expired.
Hastily, he took the elevator up to the floor that Vogerian’s room was on. Striding down the corridor, he attracted curious glances from guests. The only people who wore such jumpsuits in the hotel were the maintenance staff.
However, maintenance staff jumpsuits didn’t bulge suspiciously like Hamilton’s did.
Hamilton reached Vogerian’s suite and pressed the buzzer. After a second or two, a rough voice answered. “Who is it?”
Hamilton rechecked the number. The voice didn’t sound like that of an executive. He had chosen the correct room.
He shrugged to himself. “James Hamilton to see Mr Vogerian.”
“Just a moment.”
The line went dead. Hamilton waited, wondering who the voice belonged to.
Abruptly, the door opened, and Hamilton saw the owner of the voice that had spoken to him.
He was well over six feet tall and very broad across the shoulders. No normal human could be that broad, Hamilton knew. The man had to have been engineered genetically. There were no end of nicknames for such people, most obscene, many of obscure derivation. The one they seemed to have adopted for themselves was Enjun, a corruption of engine, short for engineered. The man, Hamilton realised, was undoubtedly Vogerian’s bodyguard. He noted a tell-tale bulge under the man’s jacket near his left armpit that hinted of a sidearm. The man’s trousers were well tailored, considering his size, but not designed to conceal whatever weapon was strapped to his right ankle. Probably a knife, Hamilton decided.
The man was giving Hamilton a similar visual examination. He snorted derisively. “Mr Vogerian will see you right away. But first…”
He held out his hand, palm upwards.
Hamilton considered giving him five, but restrained himself. Enjun’s weren’t noted for their sense of humour. A scuffle with his prospective employer’s bodyguard was not an auspicious way to start negotiations.
He began to remove various devices and weaponry from his numerous pockets.
The Enjun’s eyebrows rose in surprise at some of the exotic implements that Hamilton handed him. Finally, Hamilton spread his hands. “That’s it.”
The Enjun looked sceptical.
“Honest.”
The Enjun patted him down anyway, looking disappointed. “OK. I guess you’re clean now.”
Hamilton smiled, knowing otherwise. “I guess so.”
“Follow me.”
The Enjun turned and led the way down a short hall and through an archway into the main lounge area of the suite.
The furnishings here spoke of great wealth. They were certainly not hotel standard, so the current occupant must have brought them with him. Only an incredibly wealthy person could afford such extravagance. Hamilton decided that, if the job proved acceptable, he’d up his fee considerably. He convinced himself further of the rightness of this decision by recalling that Vogerian had sent a messenger to speak to him personally, not just via the Stellarnet. Vogerian obviously wanted him, and him alone. That was alright with Hamilton, providing that he was willing to pay for it.
Hamilton was casting around for Vogerian himself when a door opened to one side and an elderly man emerged. Hamilton guessed his age at about eighty, perh
aps ninety. Modern medicine meant that he could expect another ten or twenty years of active life before the usual complaints of old age began to set in. The fellow’s hair was brown, streaked through with silver and he wore an expensive business suit.
Hamilton began to feel a little scruffy.
The man marched briskly up to Hamilton and offered his hand. “Paul Vogerian, pleased to meet you Mr Hamilton.”
Hamilton took his hand, noting the firmness of the older man’s grip. “Likewise, sir.”
“I see you’ve already met Carl, my bodyguard.”
Hamilton nodded at the Enjun. “Not formally.”
The Enjun nodded back.
Vogerian indicated a pair of huge leather armchairs that faced one another. “Have a seat, Mr Hamilton.”
“Thanks.” Hamilton said, picking one.
Vogerian sat in the other. “Would you like some refreshments?”
“No, thank you,” Hamilton replied. “I’ve just had something.”
The old man nodded and glanced at his bodyguard. “Thank you, Carl, that will be all for now. You can return to your other duties.”
“Yes, Mr Vogerian.” Carl acknowledged. He turned and left through another door. Hamilton briefly wondered what those other duties might be.
Vogerian settled himself in his seat. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts.
Hamilton leaned back, patiently waiting.
After some time, Vogerian began. “Forgive me if I appear a little slow at times, Mr Hamilton. It’s a trait of mine. I like to think things through precisely before I begin. It saves a lot of time later on.”
Hamilton nodded wordlessly. It was a trait he appreciated in others, though he couldn’t say it always applied to him.
Vogerian continued. “I was recalling what I asked my envoy to tell you. I seem to remember that it wasn’t very specific. You must be quite curious.
“First of all I shall start by going over what my envoy told you. Perhaps, once I have finished, you could add anything that I might have missed.”
Hamilton nodded. “Of course.”
“I remember telling him to tell you that I required a man who was familiar with security procedures. Someone not averse to dealing out force, where necessary, and someone who was completely trustworthy. I also wanted someone who was experienced, competent and well regarded.
“Further to these demands I wanted someone who was able to think for himself, to ferret out information and to act upon it. In short, someone who was a bit of a detective.
“With regard to the contract, I asked him to inform you that it would, in keeping with the previously mentioned requirements, be primarily a security affair, most likely with some investigation thrown in.
“I further asked him to inform you that it would be an offworld mission, though planetfall would be made from time to time.
“With regard to remuneration, I told him to inform you that the package would not be a straightforward payment. Rather, it would be in the nature of a percentage of profits made from the mission. I am quite sure that this intrigued you most. I asked him to mention that the expected profits would be very generous. I believe I may have given him a speculative figure of three percent. I have since revised this somewhat.
“I further asked him to provide you with a travel voucher, paying for your trip here. I further told him to tell you that, should you turn my offer down, travel arrangements would be made for you to a system of your choice.
“I realise, upon reflection, that the information given to you was very sketchy. I’m quite surprised that you turned up, in fact. But then, it’s not like it cost you anything to get here. Now, have I left anything out?”
Hamilton shook his head quickly. “That’s pretty much how your envoy spelled it out. He wasn’t quite so concise, however.”
Vogerian chuckled. “Yes, he does go on a bit, at times. Now, to business. I shall tell you the nature of my offer in simple terms. If you are still interested, I will tell you all the rest, saving the details that only I am pertinent to. I must then ask you to make your final decision. I regret that I cannot allow you any thinking time, for reasons that will become apparent. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Sure.” Hamilton shrugged. “I’ve been offered worse terms before.”
Vogerian smiled. “Very well. First of all, the nature of your employment.
“You would be employed as, shall we say, security officer aboard a starship. Your duties would include looking after the safety of all aboard, maintenance of ship’s weaponry and the policing of any disputes that might arise aboard. In addition, we would make planetfall from time to time and you would be expected to act in a similar capacity with regard to any landing parties. That takes care of the security aspect.
“With regard to the investigative part of the contract I have reason to believe that some members of the team, despite the generous rewards offered, may become a little greedy as the goal of the mission is achieved. It would be your job to identify such potential troublemakers and keep an eye on them and, if it proves necessary, to deal with them.
“Does this kind of job appeal to you, Mr Hamilton?”
Hamilton considered it briefly. It sounded pretty standard so far. He’d had many similar contracts before. A little strong arming here and there to keep the troops in line, some elementary precautions and occasional forward scouting were the major constituents of such contracts. Weapon maintenance was something Hamilton was well versed in, though ship weaponry systems weren’t something he’d used to any great extent. A mercenary outfit’s funds didn’t stretch to warships. The investigating aspect was variable and Hamilton was becoming fairly good at it. Getting on to a person’s wavelength and becoming their friend was the surest way Hamilton knew of probing a person’s mentality. If anyone was going to betray them, Hamilton was sure he’d discover them fairly early on. Hamilton was most curious about the potential rewards. He was quite confident of his ability to deal with the rest of the contract.
“OK. I’m in. So far”
Vogerian beamed. “Splendid! I knew you’d be interested.”
Hamilton smiled back, reserving judgement. It was the reward that he was most interested in.
“Well now!” Vogerian continued. “No doubt you’re alive with curiosity about the mission’s goal and the rewards expected. So I won’t keep you waiting any longer. Tell me, what do you know of the Humals?”
Hamilton was caught somewhat off-guard. What was Vogerian on about? Only one way to find out.
“Not much.” he replied. “Certainly no more than anybody else. I know that they were a race of advanced aliens that existed before man became civilised. I know that they were humanoid, hence the name that was invented for them; Humal, short for humanoid alien. I know that much of man’s advanced technology has come from studies of Humal artefacts. I know that no one knows exactly what they looked like and that only a handful of sites have been found. I also know that they disappeared mysteriously and that no individual remains of the aliens have ever been discovered. Apart from that, I don’t know anything else.”
Vogerian nodded thoughtfully. “Not many people know much more. As you noted, there haven’t been many sites discovered. Those that have are relatively small. It might interest you to know that, in fact, seven sites have been discovered to date. These consist of five small outposts, a spacecraft and what appeared to be a probe of some description. I’m sure you are aware that the first site discovered, an outpost, was amid the asteroid belt around Sol itself. The knowledge gained there allowed man to make the leap to the stars. And what did he find at the end of his very first interstellar journey? Another outpost, of course. And so it has been, through the few, brief decades of man’s interstellar capabilities, until the present day.
“The last site discovered was yet another outpost. This was some twenty years ago. Since then, survey teams have been scouring the systems beyond man’s influence, searching for further Humal artefacts. I believe you yourself were i
n the Survey Corps so I won’t go into their functioning. Suffice to say that they haven’t been very successful of late. I think it’s a fair comment to say that, without our discovery of Humal technology, man would not have become nearly as powerful and widespread as he has.”
Hamilton wondered where this was leading. He was a patient man and could sit happily for hours while watching an apartment on behalf of a client. He could engage in boring, repetitive tasks without becoming bored. He could endure epic journeys with stoic calmness but the one thing he had little patience for were people who didn’t get to the point and liked to drag a story on and on. He shifted uneasily in his seat, and rather obviously. He tried not to grind his teeth together.
If Vogerian noticed Hamilton’s unrest, he didn’t show it. Instead, he annoyingly carried on with his lecture.
“Yes, we have much to thank the Humals for. Indeed, those who discovered the sites have become rich on the resulting proceeds.” He stopped and looked at Hamilton intently.
Hamilton suddenly realised the nature of the mission. He was at once very alert.
“I see you understand.” Vogerian smiled. “In short, then. I have had teams of my own…. survey teams, if you like, searching on my behalf for evidence of the Humals’ presence.
“But my teams searched beyond even the Survey Corps. They searched worlds not destined to be explored by the Corps for years yet. And yes, they found something.
“It was almost missed. The world it was on was somewhat inimical and it was half buried by the accumulated dust of the millennia it had lain there. But they found it. A spacecraft. Unlike the other spacecraft discovered, this one was mostly intact. You can imagine the team’s surprise, and joy, when they discovered that not only were the vessel’s drives intact, but it’s navigation system also. That first team, unfortunately, had a serious accident, but managed to return with the news of the discovery. A follow-up team was dispatched rapidly. In the course of their investigation, they discovered that the craft had been on course to Sol. They took all the data they could and returned it to me with great haste. My scientists analysed the information and came up with the following explanation.
Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 3
