Agent X

by Morgan Blayde

  “Chim, why do you do this? Chim! It’s been hours, talk to me.”

  “I’m meditating,” he mumbled.

  “I know. That’s the problem. Can’t you take time out from taking time out?”

  “No. Think of the dangerous elements that comprise who and what I am. Meshing them together, keeping them operating in harmony, requires an investment of time and energy. If a warrior takes care of the world within him, the one outside tends to take care of itself.”

  “I want you to make an investment in me,” Elissa said.

  “Later.”

  He felt her photon-based body solidify against him. Her breasts pressed against his back as she wrapped iridescent arms around his neck and nibbled an earlobe. “Are you sure?”

  He opened his eyes. He was spared crafting a diplomatic answer by the insistent chiming of his door announcer. “Is that the Xanian again?”

  “Yeah, she wants to talk. I told her not to bother you.”

  “Yeah, annoyance is your job,” he said.

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Is she just going to wait out there until I show up?”

  “Yes, Chim. I explained that we couldn’t take her straight home, not with the nav warnings to avoid the rift. Three more ships have gone missing in there.”

  “I wouldn’t mind digging into that mystery.”

  “An x-class agent is already on scene,” Elissa said, “Nathan Gunn in the CASSANDRA. “Well then, any more news from Ibis?”

  “No. The Falken expedition is still missing. Crewmen from the supply ship swept the ruined city near the abandoned camp, but found no one. An attempt to explore the catacombs beneath the city had to be abandoned—there’s a rather aggressive form of native life that lives in the half-flooded warrens. The creatures overrun the ruins by night. Though the camp had adequate defenses, death by misadventure is suspected.”

  “You mean the archeologists got ate by something that disagreed with them?”

  “That’s the current theory. The crew of the supply ship delivered their cargo and high-tailed it outta there. The only oddity they turned up was described as ghost-song, a crystal voice they couldn’t trace. “

  * * *

  The bright lights of the chamber teased red highlights from her brown hair. Her eyes were emerald. She was new to the white coats. Chim hadn’t seen her before, and with such natural beauty, he would have remembered. She wore holo-lenses to correct her vision. That was unusual. Usually, laser surgery took care of such things. She held the usual clipboard, as she scanned the ranked children of his class.

  She smiled, and Chim was willing to offer his heart.

  Another white coat addressed them, “This is Ms. McCool. She is one of a select few who practice an obscure martial art. Those of you who learn what she has to teach you may never use this skill—but the universe is perverse, so don’t bet on it.” He nodded to Ms. McCool.

  She took over. “We will be doing vocal exercises while meditating. In time, some of you will learn to kill with a word. Sound can do far more than we know.” She pulled a wine glass from her pocket, held it up, and sang a piercing note.

  A moment later, the wine glass shattered in her hand.

  He hurried to get her a broom.

  * * *

  “We’re supposed to clean this mess up,” Elissa said.

  Chim nodded. “Of course, that’s who we are, what we do.” The door continued to chime ruthlessly, relentlessly. He sighed. “I don’t really want to climb back into the suit and play robot for some academic. Do you think you could disable the announcer for me?”

  “Oh,” she said, “now you want something from me. Say, pretty please.”

  “Never mind. I suppose I owe her some small measure of courtesy.” He rocked forward and levered himself out of a lotus position. Carefully, he climbed to his feet, wavering a little as circulation returned.

  Across the room, by the door, one of his exo-suits waited like a display of armor. Platinum bands crossing the torso were bright with refracted light, anchoring a bright crimson cape that spilled over the shoulders, down the back. The visored helmet was an opaque mystery, a shade of green so dark it was close to black. As Chim approached, the helmet offered him distorted reflection of his pale, unimposing face.

  He slipped into the suit with the deftness that comes from years of practice. Sometimes, he wondered which was truly real, him or the suit. Maybe neither of us, until we come together. Encased, he stood at the threshold. As a precaution, he checked his implant link, speaking too softly for words to escape his visor. “Elissa, how’s reception?”

  “Fine, Chim. Go tackle that dragon.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He opened the door.

  The Xanian did resemble a dragon. Dull yellow eyes regarded him, the over-sized irises divided by slit pupils. Her skin reminded him of gray-green leather. The lady’s mouth was slightly parted, extruding a glossy black tongue that flicked. Her clawed paws were clasped formally before her. He waited for the good doctor to declare her purpose though he knew what it was.

  “I smell human,” she said. Who else is on this ship?”

  “Though leviathan-class ships are designed for independent maintenance, self-diagnosis, and repair, it’s thought best if there’s a biological back-up as well.”

  “So you have a redundant human stashed in here in case of catastrophic failure?”

  “Something like that, but that’s not why you’ve sought me out.”

  “No. I want you to divert from your course and drop me off where I can gain immediate passage back to the Rigelian system.”

  “You’re in a hurry. I appreciate that. But if any of the Falken party can be saved, time is critical.”

  “I’ve read the reports. The crew of the supply ship made a convincing case of everyone being murdered by the savage beasts infesting the subterranean sections of the ruined city. I can’t see that a delay will make any difference.”

  “I have more respect for the tenacity and resilience of the human animal than those who made that report. Only a superficial search was made. I believe our presence may well be someone’s only hope, so promptness is required.”

  “You believe?” The researcher’s voice held a note of curiosity. If her face showed emotion, Chim wasn’t familiar enough with her species to discern it. “Are they programming cybernauts with faith, instinct, and hunches these days?”

  Chim took a step forward to allow the door to close behind him.

  The Xanian retreated automatically.

  “You’d be surprised what goes into the manufacture of an x-class agent,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I must deny your request.”

  The researcher sighed with disappointment. “Well, at least you’re well-mannered enough. I suppose I can put up with the delay ... and the company.”

  Chim smiled behind his visor. “Kind of you to say so. Now if you’ll excuse me…” he turned and headed for the lift to the bridge.

  Elissa’s nearly inaudible voice unwound in his head, “She’s following you.”

  Chim sub-vocalized a response, “I know. Probably wants company, even mine.”

  “She might be helpful, you know? She’s trained in xeno-anthropology. She might see something significant in Dr. Falken’s records that we would miss.”

  “You don’t miss anything, Elissa.” He entered the lift and let it whisk him away.

  “That’s kind of you to say, but no data cache is complete. Some data never finds its way into official records. And no one knows an academic field like someone who’s in it.”

  Chim strode onto the bridge and took the massive captain’s chair. “All right, you’ve convinced me. I’ll draft her into service.”

  “She’s coming up.” A moment later, Elissa reported again. “She’s waiting on the lift behind you, not quite brave enough to enter the command center without an invitation. She’s lonely, sad.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Her tail seems to be the key to her
emotional state. Coming down the passageway, it dragged.”

  “Hmmmm. Maybe I can do something about that.” He raised his voice so the Xanian could hear. “Do you have a name, Doctor? It wasn’t in the briefing I received before picking you up.”

  “It’s not generally pronounceable to those outside my species. I’m not surprised it wasn’t passed along.”

  “Alright then, I’ll call you Doc.”

  “That’s acceptable,” The Xanian said.

  “Good. Listen, Doc, I don’t want you darkening my doorway.”

  “I’ll go back to my—”

  “So get your tail in here and pull up a seat.”

  After a pause, he heard the Xanian bound into the compartment, her armored tail began to enthusiastically smack the deck. “I’m not designed for human type sitting,” she mentioned this as if it were entirely his fault.

  “Elissa?” Chim sub-vocalized.

  Her voice brushed his ear. “I’m on it. Something’s being fabricated as we speak.”

  Chim passed the news to his guest. “Just hang loose a minute.

  Something’s going to be brought up.”

  “Of course.”

  “As long as you’re along for the ride to Ibis, it seems only logical for you to assist us on this mission.”

  “You want me to tramp through some long-dead city until the beasts that took it over feed me to their young?”

  “I have another role in mind,” Chim answered. “I’ll be handling search and rescue. I thought you could go through the expedition records and personal logs. Several questions come to mind that a good researcher should be able to discover in the data. There may be answers you can extrapolate that I would miss since xeno-anthropology and xenon-archeology are your specialty, not mine. If you hadn’t already been on-site with a project of your own, you might have led the Ibis team instead of Dr. Falken.”

  “What are your questions?”

  “To start with, what is the nature of the beasts that live beneath the city? How intelligent are they? Is it really likely that they wiped out the expedition, and if so, how? The party was equipped with very effect defenses, weapons, and they had secure structures to barricade themselves into in case of over-whelming encroachment. Even a massive uprising of the natives shouldn’t have gotten them all. Then, there’s this crystal song business. Is it relevant to the situation? If so, what is it caused by?”

  “Is that all?” Doc’s tone suggested that it was quite enough.

  “No. I’ll want you to go through the records and construct a thorough account of events just before the mass disappearance. If the local critters didn’t take the party out, you might find a clue as to what did. Is it possible that some kind of pirate force came from off-world to steal ancient treasure, leaving the local wild-life to take the blame?”

  “That’s a wild bit of speculation,” Doc observed. “Still, stranger things have happened. Okay, I’ll start with the data your ship has on file. How long until we reach Ibis?”

  Elissa’s slipped him the information. He relayed it, “We’re entering orbit. Planet fall won’t take long.”

  The bridge door opened and a servo-unit appeared. It dragged in a multi-level framework made of struts and padded tiers. The Xanian stared as the structure was placed near her. Finally, she climbed, entered, and wound around it until her head and a long stretch of neck protruded over a computer workstation. “This will do,” she admitted.

  Chim studied the planet on a wrap-around holo-screen. Ibis appeared to be mostly rusted desert. It reminded him of Mars in the early days of terraforming, before it became a sprawling metropolis. “The color answers one of my questions,” he noted, “though it’s probably not important.”

  “What question?” Doc asked.

  “The planet’s name, Ibis. Usually there are reasons why things are given the names they are. An Ibis is a Terran bird from the mid-eastern region. It lives in reeds along the Nile River and is known for its bright coloration. The bird and the planet appear to share the same shade of red.”

  “The name is also consistent with conditions in the city,” Doc said. “It’s built on a flood plain. A local river regularly escapes its banks and washes the streets. It’s why the catacombs are so hard to explore. Much of the warrens are choked with water in the spring. Your ibis would be right at home living here.”

  “That raises another question,” Chim said. “Why dig catacombs under a city when they’re just going to get flooded?”

  “Possibly,” Doc suggested, “the original inhabitants were amphibious and a little flooding was a good thing.”

  “Or maybe,” Chim offered, “the whole city started out above ground, but after uncounted millennia passed, it settled, sinking so that several stories were buried.”

  Doc paused in her scanning of the data records. Her head swiveled his way. Yellow eyes pried at him intently. After a small delay she spoke. “Interesting theory. You might just make a decent academic yet.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  The holo-screen followed the curve of the forward bulkhead over the bridge stations, offering a panoramic view of Ibis as they settled deeper into atmosphere. Chim gestured. The bridge sensors caught the motion. In response, the screen compressed, floating closer. It ghosted through Doc and her elaborate perch, enabling him to watch both Doc and Ibis, depending on which he focused on.

  Absorbed by her own efforts, Doc ignored the holo-screen crashing over her.

  “Increase magnification twenty percent,” Chim sub-vocalized.

  The planetary details jumped into a higher magnification. He saw a meandering band of mountains north of red rolling dunes—a rusted wasteland fragmented by a branching river. Its arteries reflected the amber sun. The elements of this planet seemed to be exchanging aspects, unhappy with their lot. Further south, the main trunk of the river created a marsh that was thick with small wooded islands, outlined by blue-green reeds.

  Where desert and marsh fused together, Chim saw red-glass towers spiraling high into the sky. Some of the towers were sheared and half-shattered, victim to some ancient conflict. The intact structures had flying buttresses, great wings that interlocked with others, creating the impression of crystal juggernauts on the verge of taking flock. Another reason for this planet’s name, he realized. The architecture of the city was designed by soaring souls.

  On the desert side of the city, where previous ships had set down, liquefied and cooled sand formed glazed scabs. Chim saw a bunch of prefab structures huddled with doors ajar. The area around the camp remained deserted as the IMPERIAL DRAGON settled on the nearby slagging.

  No one appeared to welcome them. The only sign of motion was from clouds of black-feathered birds fleeing the towers, frightened by the looming ship.

  Doc looked toward Chim, noticing the reversed details of the displayed city for the first time. Her breath escaped, a sibilant sigh. Chim knew she was stunned by the alien vista; he was finding it easier to read her.

  “Pan the city,” Chim asked Elissa privately. “Maybe we’ll see something from ground level that eluded us before.” The city slid sideways across the holo-screen. New towers replaced the ones already observed. When one edge of the city was reached, the view backtracked.

  “It’s a ghost town,” Chim spoke loudly, moved by the eerie atmosphere of the bloody towers, “and I don’t think it has any patience for the living.”

  “You’re programmed for melodrama?” Doc asked. “You’re as interesting as this city. I have two marvels before me.”

  “We can form a mutual admiration society later,” Chim killed the display. “There’s work to be done. First, some ground rules. I want you to stay in the ship at night when the subterranean denizens of the city come out to play. During the day stay at the camp. There’s enough there for you to do. I don’t want you wandering into the city, getting lost. My ship will contact you once an hour. Respond promptly. We’ll give you a comm unit. Call at once at the first sign anything unusual. Are
we clear?”

  “Crystal,” Doc answered.

  “Good. The servo units will bring you anything you need. Just ask the ship.”

  “What name does the ship answer to?” Doc asked.

  “The vessel is the IMPERIAL DRAGON. It’s controlled by an AI program,” he lied. “I’ll introduce you. Elissa, say hello to Doc.” There was no reason to hide her photonic image; it wasn’t Doc’s first time seeing her. Chim just didn’t want her to know Elissa was more than a program. He kept his secrets habitually, whither there was apparent need or not.

  All ruffles and bows, Elissa appeared in a retro party dress from some by-gone era of Old Earth.

  The Xanian stared in silence, rigid as rock for a long moment. Finally, whatever emotion she was dealing with ran its course. She nodded a greeting. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you for saving my life.”

  “All part of the job,” Elissa said.

  “Elissa will pack a few amenities for you and leave them in the air lock,” Chim said. “You’re in her hands for now. I’m going into the city.”

  He left the bridge, stopping at the armory for a grenade launcher and a field pack stuffed with photon and stun grenades.

  They’ll be useful if I’m still in the city after dark.

  He hurried to the cargo bay. With regret, he glanced past a row of all-terrain vehicles. Armored, massive, they were not designed for metropolitan exploration. He wanted to search the city, not destroy priceless artifacts.

  I’d better go on foot.

  “Elissa?”

  Hair streaming, she appeared before him with hands joined over her head. Poised on the toes of one foot, she spun in place, now a music box ballerina. “Yes, love?”

  “Let’s put your new mobility to some use,” he suggested. “I’ll take the surface level. You project underground. You can check out the warrens systematically without being troubled by the beasts down there.”

  “Aye, Aye, Cap’n, Sir. I’m on it.” Going flatfooted, she saluted briskly and faded out with a Cheshire cat grin.

  Chim cycled through the air lock. Its outer door opened onto an elevated view of the city. Usually, he just jumped down. His exo-suit took such usage in stride. But Doc needed another way planet-side. He called Elissa. “Rig a lift to the air lock so Doc won’t get her neck broke climbing down.”