Alien Blues

by Lynn Hightower

  How strange it is that the humans taught me the necessity of the code. The code was all that kept society from unraveling into bloody, crazy mess. Like human society. From birth, one must be taught the code—where you step and where you do not.

  At once I had great pity for humans, their stick shapes, their jerky, speedy, uncomfortable movements. No good system for keeping themselves in line—undisciplined children running rampant on their planet.

  And yet. They are not without their charm. So often do I see flashes of Mother-One in the way they deal with their young!

  They are intelligent enough, these nose talkers, intelligent enough to have the problem. Escape, chemical, the bane of every promising species. How to fill the lonely voids? It would seem that the mind expanding to certain capacities must find relief.

  Study them, solve our problem.

  They have an expression here—the end justifies the means. So perfect, so true, and eventually … such trouble.

  I have been working with them too long. They fit the stereotype—violent, undisciplined, unsteady. But knowing them on a personal level … one becomes fond.

  Ironic that the cure applies to them, but not my own. Because of their undisciplined socializing and patterns of social dependency! Things we so often joke about!

  The substance is dangerous for Elaki. For the human, the drug can be engineered not to be habit forming—it can be tailored so that it will cause minimal desire, in the totally balanced human. The catch, of course, for them will be “totally balanced.” But the blood groupings, the family unit, properly supported, can provide that balance, as long as the danger of the dysfunctional family unit is well understood. That will be the battle—curing the dysfunctional unit. But at least they have a chance.

  The drug will not work to limit addiction for the Elaki. The Elaki physiology must always find a way around the chemical barriers.

  Still, it is progress. We are close to announce. The first batch of Black Diamond, non-addictive this time, ready for test.

  And the trouble now out of hand.

  And always, that String, watching. Official Izicho representative, authorized to carry out cho—the death sanction. Always the sanction, hanging!

  And if String knew how bad things were out of hand … if he knew I, Puzzle, have lost control of Horizon. Would he sanction? Would he show mercy?

  One does not expect mercy from the Izicho. At home, in one’s own community … but I am a long way from home.

  And I will not see home again, or stand on the trembling bogs.

  I hate String. String the Izicho, the watcher, the genuine hot dog lover. Value a hot dog on the same level as Elaki! To sacrifice humans for Elaki is morally reprehensible to a purist like String, though their own government turns a blind eye.

  And yet, for all his morality, if String stops Horizon he will damage humans more than help them. Why can he not see that to sacrifice a few lost ones from the warren called Little Saigo will benefit them all?

  The work has to stay, the project go a little longer or there will be untold damage. This must be understood.

  And I cannot do that. I can only leave it behind.

  So hard to disengage, to sail the darkness. Mother-One was correct.

  I am dying. Is it not possible that there is trouble in the darkness? More sanctions to come?

  And what else?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  David would have been happier with mel driving, but he didn’t like to admit it. It was difficult now, keeping his thoughts from wandering. Awake, he could keep the patchwork bits of memories—Puzzle’s memories—under control. Sleep was another matter. He would drift off, then jerk awake, Puzzle’s thoughts like a loud noise in his mind.

  Mel cracked his knuckles. “I was thinking the Inman Hotel.”

  David shrugged. “How many stories?”

  “Twelve. Whoa. Slow down, there he is.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “He’s the one looks like he been chewed by a dog. Hey there … String.” Mel whistled. “Over here.”

  String rippled across the sidewalk. Streetlights glinted off his scales. A woman in an evening dress and an Elaki at a hot dog stand stopped and watched String get into the car with two humans. String folded himself across the back seat.

  “I am very excited, Detective Mel. And think much of this invitation.”

  “You sure you want to do Mexican?”

  “Authentic Mexican, yes. Earth flavoring, nothing adapted up to Elaki standard.”

  “You liked the tacos, huh?”

  “But yes.”

  “Good, String. Good.”

  David glanced in the rearview mirror. String was twisted sideways, left prong drooping.

  David accelerated over a rough patch in the road, bumping the car hard. String smacked into the back of the seat. Mel looked at David. David slowed and drove more carefully.

  He almost missed the hotel.

  He braked sharply, swinging into the circle of pavement in front of the Inman. A concrete tub was full of weeds. The lobby had the musty odor of an ill-kept, indoor pool.

  There was no one behind the desk. An old man in brown slacks and a sport shirt was slumped on a battered couch. His head jerked up as they passed. His eyes opened to slits, then closed.

  String looked around, then got into the elevator with David and Mel.

  “This is most interesting. This guy relationship. It is like a reunion of pouchmates.”

  “That like brothers and sisters?” Mel leaned against the right side of the elevator and scratched his thigh.

  “Yes, very like. I remember one time …”

  The elevator dinged and opened.

  “Food smell,” String said. Someone was playing a guitar. String sidled forward.

  “Not our floor,” Mel said.

  “Oh. But I was going to tell you—”

  Behind String’s back, Mel looked at David and stuck a finger up his nose.

  “I had a pouchmate, female, who traveled to Kinsan—Kinsan, it is a famous gathering place—and did not come back for a too long space. Other female pouchmate and I went to this Kinsan to look for Ceech. Ceech is the … the name of the female pouchmate who went to Kinsan. To find Ceech we …”

  The elevator door opened.

  “After you,” Mel said.

  “… decided, in order not to interfere with—” String stepped out onto the roof and looked around. “Where is the Mexican food, Detective Mel?”

  The elevator closed. String turned and faced them. The breeze was a small one, but String swayed sideways.

  “We need to talk to you, String,” Mel said. “We thought this might be the best place. So we can be private.”

  The signs of distress were obvious, now that David knew what to look for. The greenish sheen of the scales. The stiffness of the eye prongs. Almost, he felt sorry for String. Almost.

  “The rooftop is most dangerous for Elaki. Did you not know that, Detectives?”

  Mel stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, actually, we did.”

  String moved back, closer to the edge.

  “Talk to me about the Izicho,” David said. “And what you do.”

  String teetered from side to side. “What is Izicho, please?”

  “Puzzle sent me a brain probe,” David said.

  String stilled. “Ah.”

  “We know all about you,” Mel said.

  “Sheesha suspected then? He was aware?”

  “He was scared to death of you,” David said.

  “Yes.”

  “You did the sanction. You killed him.”

  “But no.”

  Mel made a rude noise. “Don’t tell me you don’t do sanctions.”

  “I do, yes. Even cho, the death sanction. But not Sheesha, though it might, yes, have come to that point.”

  “It did come to that point. You blew him up, and caught me and David at the same time. Should have used more explosive, you’d have gotten us all.”

&
nbsp; “You forget, Detective Mel, that I was also caught in—”

  “You weren’t hurt,” David said.

  “If I had for the intention you and Mel to be killed, you would be dead. No joke, sirs.”

  “Aw, now he’s bragging,” Mel said. “I hate it when they start bragging.”

  “Izicho is very like human police. More centered on the will of the masses, perhaps, but our jobs very alike.”

  “So now we’re all cops together. Buddies. But see, String, we aren’t killers.”

  “That is relief. Please to let me pass, then, back to people chute.”

  “Elevator. What I meant to say is, we aren’t usually killers. It’s not a regular part of our job.”

  String held out a gun, pointing it between Mel and David.

  “Jesus, you going to threaten me with the gun I got you? Where you been hiding that, anyway?”

  “Please, let me pass to peop … elevator.”

  “Is it loaded?” Mel asked.

  String raised the muzzle of the gun. “But yes.”

  “I’d be careful, then, about sticking it down in your shorts there.”

  “Pouch.”

  “Whatever. And put it away. You fire that, and you’ll go over the edge of the roof.”

  “I will not have to fire. I have seen videos of human behavior. Discharge is dangerous, and rarely required. It is necessary only to point the weapon to make a human do your will. Are those not the rules?”

  Mel grinned. “You know, David, it’s awful hard to stay mad at him.”

  David folded his arms. “Mother-One to Puzzle might not agree.”

  String’s voice was gentle. “Mother-One to Puzzle is long deceased, David Silver.”

  David frowned. He should have realized … He closed his eyes. Mother-One had died years ago, when Sheesha was at the university. She had sent him a partial brain probe. That was how Sheesha had learned the skills to merge with self—from her memories.

  David took a deep breath and rubbed his face in his hands. A vein of lightning lit the sky. String swayed from side to side.

  “Please.”

  Mel smiled reassuringly. “Just heat lightning, Gumby.”

  “We could be most useful together. You share your information, and I can share mine. Fairly. We work the same problem, different approach. It is time for cooperation.”

  Mel looked at David. “What you think?”

  “We have to get him off the roof anyway.”

  “Unload that gun before you put it away, String.” Mel pointed to the elevator. “Then down the hatch.”

  The guitar player was still there, strumming for an unappreciative group of four. String stood at the bar and David and Mel sat on either side of him. The guitar player sang like a sad and sorry hound dog. The music had a definite country twang, and David could tell that Mel liked it and String didn’t. He was with String.

  “You want a drink,” Mel was saying, “just push this—”

  “Detective Mel, I am alien, not stupid. And you have made a mistake. When you cut the sequence, the machine thinks you have had amounts deducted from account, when in truth you have not.”

  The robocart rolled toward them.

  “At home,” String said sadly, “it is not looked upon with such suspicion to use actual cash.”

  “On Earth,” David said, “it means you’re a drug dealer.”

  The robocart served String first.

  Mel peered in the glass. “What’s that you drinking?”

  “Elaki beer and Tennessee whiskey.”

  “Together?”

  David took a sip of beer and turned his stool so he could look at String. “I thought you were working for Puzzle. You weren’t. You were watching him.”

  “This beer is warm,” Mel said. “I like it the way it was when I was a kid. I miss crumpling the cans.”

  String drained his glass, then punched for another.

  “I was watching him, yes.”

  “Why? Mel, be careful how you hold that.”

  “I’m not going to spill it.”

  “Two reasons,” String said. “One—his methodology was suspect. He is allowed a certain level of harm. Not to exceed.”

  “What level?” Mel said. “Aw, hell.”

  “I told you it would spill.”

  “It’s an ugly carpet anyway.”

  String peered at the floor. “What color do you call that?”

  “Looks like peanut brittle,” Mel said. “A little beer would improve it.”

  String sloshed beer onto the floor.

  David grabbed the Elaki’s fin. It was velvet soft, and slipped out of his grasp.

  “What’s the other reason, String?”

  “Other reason? Elaki murders. Three.”

  “So they weren’t sanctions?”

  “But no. At least two, and likely three, were victims of the Machete Human.”

  “Machete Man,” Mel said.

  David frowned. “Then who killed Puzzle?”

  “I do not know. It could not have been the Machete Human.”

  “Man,” said Mel.

  “And now you, David Silver. You have experienced the mind probe. You have learned what is to be invaluable.”

  David put his beer down and rubbed his temples. “It’s not that easy to sort. Sometimes … something comes to me, and it’s like I always knew it. And others, I get bits and pieces. Nothing to make a coherent whole.”

  “You know, did you not? That Puzzle feared the sanction?”

  “Yeah.”

  String faced David. “What was it he was guilty about?”

  “He … he didn’t like you. He was … contemptuous. Because you were a hot dog lover.”

  “Yes. Puzzle was bigot.”

  “No.” David frowned. “Yeah. He was a bigot.” David sighed and leaned back on his stool. “He was up to something that had to do with the project. He was close to a cure, but it wouldn’t work for Elaki.”

  “Ah.”

  “But somehow … don’t ask me how, I’m not sure. Somehow things were out of hand. He was afraid. Something he’d started and couldn’t back down from. Something to do with the deaths.”

  “So, String,” Mel said. “How long you been doing these sanctions?” He punched up another drink.

  “It is not an easy topic of discussion, Detective Mel. Yes, thank you, I will have another.”

  David shredded the wet napkin under his beer. “I just remembered.”

  The robocart rolled over and served String.

  “Tell me, Gumby, why’s it always serve yours first?”

  “Mel,” David said. “Pay attention. You remember those pictures in Puzzle’s office?”

  “Yeah. Looked like they were studying the dealers. Smalltime.”

  “But all of them were shot in and around Little Saigo.”

  “So?”

  David shrugged.

  “I remember well the first sanction of cho.” String slipped a few inches to the left. “Most distressing. Final bequests are, of course, recognized by law, and this particular …”

  Mel ordered another drink and David stared at him.

  Mel shrugged. “Another won’t hurt. Get me through the story, and it looks like a long one.”

  “You got him started. Make him stop.”

  “… being had a certain amount of property, but not enough—”

  “Hey, String, don’t it depress you?”

  “Don’t what depress me?”

  “The sanctions. Carrying them out.”

  String slipped farther sideways. “At first, yes. But later, no.”

  “Got used to it, huh?” Mel straightened String up.

  “No. It is a strange thing. So much bad to see. Bad this, bad that, some sickening. All waste and cruelty.”

  Mel nodded solemnly.

  David set his glass down. “I think … I think I’m beginning to figure this out, Mel.”

  “But then,” String said, “after so much bad goes by …”
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  “Goes down the hatch,” Mel said, swallowing hugely.

  “Then when a goodness, a kindness comes. When there are things decent. Then it seems such a miracle. Not matter how much swirl of badness … the good cannot be stomped out.”

  “Stamped out,” Mel said.

  “Think about it.” David turned sideways and faced them. “Project Horizon is going to cure drug addiction. And suddenly there’s a psychopath on the loose. No connection, except all the victims have some association with Horizon. Human victims. Elaki victims. An Elaki/Human project.”

  “Work together,” Mel said, “get killed together.”

  “The brotherhood of the races,” said String.

  “Because something has gone wrong,” David herded the pieces of wet napkin into a ball. “Something is out of hand and that something draws a vice cop, in search of a new street candy. Black Diamond.”

  “To Black Diamond!” Mel held his glass in the air.

  David’s head was hurting, but everything made sense. What he needed was a good long talk with Dennis Winston. Tomorrow, when he was sober.

  “To Black Diamond! I am empty, Detective Mel. We must all order another.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The Rainbow Townhomes were cheaply built under a facade of elegance, the rent ridiculous for the minuscule square footage.

  “Elaki beer,” Mel muttered. “And Tennessee whiskey.”

  “Could they not make car for Elaki and human compatible?” The voice from the back was small and pained.

  “Poor Gumby,” Mel said. “You should see the back seat, David. This sucker’s shed a lot of scales.”

  David parked the car by the curb. Mel smiled knowingly.

  “’Member when this place opened up—five years ago? Friend of mine came out here. Said the parking structure had been peppered with BMWs, Jags, and Myshenas—leased from the dealer. And the pool and grounds were full of girls and guys. Models, rented for the day. Place filled up in no time.” Mel shook his head. “Got busted too, couple years ago. Discriminating against children. Charged an extra hundred a month for each kid.”

  “Special rates for goldfish?”

  “Probably an extra twenty.”

  String rustled in the back seat. “You say this Winston has the tie-in to Machete Human?”