Relic Tech

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “We ain’t supposed to use these except for emergencies,” he said. “And the chief sounded pretty urgent to me.” He pocketed his penlight.

  There was a two-foot clearance. “They built this to maintain the anti-gravity system?” I asked, before sliding under paired, red power conduits, and moving up.

  “Guess so,” he said. “They say failure of anti-gravity in condensed space can be a problem.”

  “Fatal,” I agreed, happy I wasn’t claustrophobic. Mer stared down a recessed track running parallel to us, waiting for something. “Hey,” I said, “both of these conduits split off, but always into pairs, and run to the outer hull.” I shined my light. “See? If it’s a backup system, it doesn’t make sense to have them running parallel.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But engineers don’t get contracts for being stupid.”

  “What does that mean?” He didn’t answer.

  A humming announced two flat sleds approaching. He climbed onto one. “Get on, Kra. Strap yourself in good, and I’ll get us there.”

  I was having second thoughts about the legitimacy of Mer’s route. I signaled and said, “Ready.” How much time were we really saving?

  “Might want to turn off your light and hold your stomach,” Mer said while pecking at the control panel.

  We shot off. Powered by a magnetic pulse, the ride was smooth, except for a section where we slowed, switched tracks, and sped a different direction. In thirty seconds we were at the other end of the Kalavar.

  Mer muttered and tapped at a panel, providing lights. “Unbuckle yourself and hop down. Medical will be straight ahead a bit, to your right.”

  As I slid down the ladder, I spotted Chief Brold standing outside Medical. I trotted up to him. “Chief?”

  “Keesay,” he said with arms crossed, “just what the hell did you booby-trap your cart with?”

  “A lock, Chief. Did somebody try to pick it?”

  “Apparently. Explain.”

  “It’s rigged to spray blue dye on anyone who tries to pick it,” I replied, in an even tone. “It also acts as a numbing agent.” I took a breath. “Who tried it?”

  He ignored my question. “What if the lock is cut?”

  I didn’t know if I should be angry or worried. “If it’s cut, Chief, an interior tube was installed in the loop. To deter the trespasser.” I wanted to say, nail the crook. “Severing the lock releases an aerosol containing a visual irritant, and a nauseating inhalant.”

  “Is it lethal?”

  “No. The airborne chemicals are extremely short lived.” I flexed my fingers. “Who broke into my cart?”

  Before he could answer, a medical technician ran out of the lab. “Security Chief, get in here!”

  I followed my boss and the white-garbed med tech through a small reception area to the treatment center. Med techs moved in all directions, but generally away from one of the rooms. A vaporous cloud hung outside the closed door, and from it a powerful acidic odor assaulted my eyes and nose. No Biohazard alarms had been triggered. A med-bot sped around, spraying a neutralizing agent. Still, I wasn’t too confident.

  Chief Brold grabbed a med tech’s arm. “What’s going on?”

  Before the tech could answer, a doctor stepped away from two assistants in protective gear. “Well, Chief,” he said, “our patient expired. Took part of my examination room with him.”

  “Dr. Sevanto, what happened?”

  Despite the commotion, the doctor remained calm. With an air of authority he directed the chief away from the traffic. “We had alleviated the respiratory distress and flushed out the visual irritant. The patient was still visibly agitated. Readouts indicated unidentified chemicals in his system. The patient sat up just after I suggested to Tech Gorborski that you might be interested in interviewing our patient.”

  Dr. Sevanto halted his story for a second and spoke into his collar. “That will be sufficient.” He looked back at Chief Brold. “The room has been emptied of all potential hazards, and is safe.”

  “What happened?” repeated the chief.

  “Let’s take a look.” Dr. Sevanto led us into the room. It was small, plain and antiseptic, like any other medical examination room—except for the pitted remains of an examination bed with the emergency filtration system drawing in the remaining fumes.

  “As I was saying, Chief, after your name was mentioned, the patient laid back down and closed his eyes. Within seconds, what I suspect to be an internal acid, began to dissolve his body.” He stepped closer, gesturing despite the ruined equipment’s lingering odor. “It stopped halfway through my examination table.”

  My eyes would’ve been wide as dinner plates, if they hadn’t been watering. The chief seemed immune. “Did the decomposing begin in the torso?” he asked.

  “Not exactly. The entire body came under the effect. At least to the ankles and wrists. All organic matter was consumed. It should have been recorded on your security network.” Dr. Sevanto looked around. “Know what caused this, Chief?”

  “Possibly. Some aliens are known to have capsules imbedded in their bodies. Usually near a main circulatory artery. The capsule’s contents can be activated by a chemical entering the body.” Chief Brold scratched his head. “The Crax are reported to have a set up with a delayed onset that allows an inert acid to circulate though the body before a released enzyme activates it.” He maneuvered closer and examined the area. “Did a thorough job.” He retraced his steps. “Could’ve been worse.”

  Dr. Sevanto asked, “Do you think Tech Stardz was connected to the Crax?”

  “I wouldn’t rule anything out, yet.” The chief reached into a pocket and produced a small clip. “Specialist, do you recognize this man?”

  I looked at the flat-screen picture. “No, Chief.”

  “Doctor,” said Chief Brold. “Collect samples of the acid and anything else. Or at least have the xeno guy look over what’s left. See how it reacted to whatever it came into contact with.”

  “Already requested, Chief.”

  Chief Brold spoke into his collar. “Specialist Club, get to Medical and assist the xenobiologist in collecting samples.” He nodded his head. “Dr. Sevanto will bring you up to speed.” He glared at me. “Come on, Specialist. We need to talk.”

  The silent trek to the chief’s office gave me time to wonder if any of the chemicals from my lock had triggered the deadly reaction. It didn’t seem to fit the pattern Chief Brold had laid out. But I was neither a chemist, nor an expert in human physiology.

  I sat patiently while the chief reviewed surveillance recordings. Half of my thoughts wondered what had happened and why. The other half focused on why my equipment had been tampered with, and why security had allowed it. After several minutes, I relaxed, figuring I’d know soon enough. Instead, I tried to identify the security measures the chief had installed on his desk screen and around his office. The method and setup could say a lot about a person.

  From my vantage, I couldn’t see precisely what the chief had running on his desk screens, but a small readout to the right of the screens flashed a verification, indicating he used fingerprint and retinal verification. Looking around wasn’t exactly proper etiquette, but at this point, if the chief had a problem with it, he could say something.

  Several Silicate War vintage pictures of the chief in Colonial Marine garb rested on a shelf. One showed Chief Brold and several other marines outfitted in servo-armor. It looked like the type designed for hand-to-hand combat with the Shards. The picture was fancy, but outdated. The trees in the background waved in the breeze, while everything about the primary figures remained stationary.

  I spotted several recesses above the entry door. One probably housed a verification device, keyed to the chief’s iris or facial features. I’d have been willing to bet he had voice security as well. Layered security, various levels and complexity; the chief knew his business.

  Chief Brold invited me to the other side of his desk. “Here’s Tech Stardz.” I watched the eng
ineering tech lingering outside a hallway, looking around. Then, he turned a corner. “There,” interrupted Chief Brold. With a touch of his finger, the action stopped. From this vantage, I confirmed that the desk screen’s security was coded to the chief’s fingerprint with the flashing green light above the door confirming a secondary long range optical scanning device.

  I refocused on the screen as he replayed the sequence in slow motion. “Yes,” I said, “he just pulled something from his pocket.”

  “See how it’s concealed?” Chief Brold said, magnifying the area around the hand. “No help there. Now watch.” The tech continued around the corner. “This monitor should have picked him up.” The screen displayed an empty corridor.

  “Pretty handy device,” I said.

  “We didn’t find it after Specialist Club apprehended him.” The chief tapped the screen again. “See how he just appears?” A few seconds later the chief commented, “Here’s Club finding Stardz doubled over, just outside the area.”

  I noted the elapsed time was just under four minutes. “How far away is that from my equipment?”

  “One deck down,” he said, leaning back. “Specialist Club is what you might say, quite knowledgeable. She pegged your set up earlier, and put two and two together.”

  Chief Brold sat forward again and indicated I take a seat. “I’ve got a couple questions for you, Keesay.” Brold’s demeanor appeared relaxed, except for his eyes. “I’d like you to speculate what happened during the time Tech Stardz activated his screening device. And, I’d like to know why he had an interest in your equipment.”

  I wondered why the chief didn’t show me the storage surveillance, but it wasn’t time for my questions. “Chief, I would guess that Tech Stardz simply entered the storage area, and attempted to pick the lock. Apparently, he wasn’t as observant or knowledgeable as Specialist Club. He may have used some simple, or even electronic picks to open the lock. Didn’t find any on him?”

  The chief shook his head, so I continued. “Well, the lock was set to spray a contact dye containing a weak corrosive and nerve agent. The corrosive to penetrate hand protections and assist the numbing agent in deterring further lock picking efforts. Apparently, Tech Stardz wasn’t deterred, because the lock released the aerosol I told you about. That’s why Specialist Club found him doubled over.”

  The chief seemed interested. “See,” I explained, “most thieves are careful not to leave much evidence behind. But if they vomit, then a whole array of traceable evidence, including cells from the stomach’s lining, is left behind.”

  The chief cracked a half smile. “Not bad. It might even catch a few professionals.”

  Did the chief think Tech Stardz was a professional? “Tech Stardz tried to pick it,” I said, “and probably was unsuccessful. Panicked and tried to cut the lock and fled.” Now, was my turn. “I’d like to examine my equipment and determine if anything was taken.”

  “We’ll get to that later.”

  “If Specialist Club didn’t find tools or the screening device on Stardz, then he had an accomplice. Maybe a review of all the recent surveillance could catch someone else being screened?”

  “Already being done, Specialist. It may narrow the list. But anybody walking in range of the scrambler would be screened.”

  “How many crewmen would wander past a vomiting technician without assisting or reporting?” His smile indicated he’d thought of that. And that he was holding back.

  The next part would be tricky. I hated to lie to my boss. Worse yet, getting caught lying. A shift in his eyebrows indicated I’d better finish.

  “Why Tech Stardz had an interest in my equipment? He figured it an easy theft opportunity?” I shrugged. “Normally, there’d be little reason for an I-Tech to steal from an R-Tech cart.” I took a thoughtful breath. “There was an incident on the dock, prior to my boarding. That may be connected, but I don’t know how.”

  “What incident would that be?”

  “Well, there were actually two, Chief.” I was sure he knew of them. “I don’t think the incident with the marine would connect.” He gave an ever so slight acknowledgement. He knew, but how much? Hadn’t Simms referred to the chief by his first name? “If you were to contact Investigator Simms, he might have more information on any possible connection.”

  Hiding any reaction, the chief said, “I’d like to hear what you have to say before I make any effort to contact him.”

  “Apparently, there was an inside job attempted on the dock. Some baggage handlers, who weren’t company loyal, attempted a theft, or something. It didn’t work out as planned. I got caught in the crossfire and killed one of them.” Certainly, he knew that much. I scratched my head as if in thought. My bruised face made prolonged, thoughtful squinting a bit more painful than it was worth. “If Stardz was part of that organization, then there might be a connection.” A thought hit me. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to steal, but maybe plant something.”

  “He was,” replied Chief Brold. “Senior Engineer McAllister is trying to identify it. Maybe after this interview we can consult her and figure out a bit more.”

  Interview? Try interrogation. “I’m not sure there’s much more to tell. Other than maybe payback, for whatever I helped foil.” Was it something illegal Stardz tried to plant? The obvious break-in would quash any frame-up job.

  The chief saw my mind racing. “Is there anything you’d like to add, Specialist?”

  “I don’t think there is anything else I can add.” It was vague but let him take it however he would.

  “What do you mean by, ‘can’?”

  I sat up even straighter. “Exactly what it means, sir.” I knew that answer would delight him almost as much as being called sir. In the back of my mind, the image of water swirling down a drain formed.

  “That’s good to hear, Keesay.”

  “Chief?”

  “I’m not going to compel you to lie. Too much file work involved in that. Karlton gave me enough details.

  Was that Simms’s first name? It seemed so long ago. Chief Brold must’ve correctly interpreted my expression.

  “Your Corporate Inspector Simms.” He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll tell you about him sometime. But while I’ve got you here, let me go over your duty assignment.” He checked the chronometer above the door. “And give McAllister a little more time to report.”

  His tone said we were following his agenda. I was interested in my new assignment, but more interested in what Stardz had been up to, and what Field Director Simms had told my boss.

  Chapter 16

  None of the five reported outer colonies are located on habitable planets. Two are large space docks located in asteroid belts. Two orbit different planets in the same binary system. The final one, located on a moon orbiting a Jupiter sized gas giant, is shared with the Chicher.

  Located over 300 light years away, the joint colony functions as a hub for the other outer colonies. It is one of the few ventures where multiple corporations have acted in unison for the benefit of mankind. It is also one of the few large-scale, far-seeing operations where the Capital Galactic Investment Group has been shut out. It is believed the Chicher wanted it that way. Some say it takes one rat to sniff out another rat.

  The Kalavar was short of security with several auxiliary team members having primary duties in other areas. In addition, the marines were to assist during transit, but only if necessary. I got the impression the chief wanted to avoid involving them. The only other thing I learned, before we were interrupted, was that a delayed shipment included my company communications gear.

  “Understood,” Chief Brold answered into his collar. A hint of surprise passed over his face before fading into concern. “I agree, Senior Engineer McAllister. Specialist Keesay and I will await your arrival.” He nodded again. “Contact Specialist Club. Have her change the entry code before you leave.” His brow furrowed. “It doesn’t matter. Security is responsible for any access code changes.”

  He wasn’t happy with
the response. “You wait there,” he said. “I’ll send Specialist Liu to secure your lab until Club gets there. Then report here immediately. Out.” He shook his head and held up a finger before returning to our conversation.

  He tapped a corner of his desk screen. A class 2 administrative specialist entered from the adjoining room. She wore a navy blue jumpsuit with a gray-green armband indicating a secondary duty assignment as a security specialist.

  I stood as did Chief Brold. “Specialist Krakista Keesay, this is Admin Specialist Li Liu, who serves as my assistant.”

  Liu’s physical features reconfirmed her name’s Asian ancestry. Sometimes people change their name, or even their outward appearance. It didn’t appear that Specialist Liu did either. I waited, on the off chance that she might offer her hand. She didn't.

  “Welcome aboard, Specialist,” she said, before turning back to the chief.

  “Liu, contact Club and have her change the access code to the engineering research lab. But it might be a while. She’s in Medical with the cleanup crew. I want you to post outside the lab until she completes her task and relieves you.” He paused. “Use communication protocol Prime Two.”

  Liu frowned. Her eye shifted to me, then back to the chief. “Understood, Chief.”

  “Good. Prevent access to the lab, except for McAllister and myself. And Club, of course.” He checked the chronometer. “Contact me if Club hasn’t reported to you within the hour.”

  “If any of the engineering or tech staff should desire entrance?”

  “They can contact me or McAllister.”

  “I’m sure they’ll contact you, Chief,” she said before returning to her office.

  “Keesay, pull over another chair for Engineer McAllister when she arrives.”

  I did and sat down while he tapped past a few screens on his desk. “Keesay, your file says you’re adequate in the use of computers.” He pulled a pen from his desk and scribbled something on a slip of paper. “Here’s the access code and password to your onboard account.”