Masters of the Galaxy

by Mike Resnick (ed)

  I was silent for a long time. I considered everything I’d heard, everything I’d learned about Mglais and about Jimbo, everything I once thought my job entailed. Finally I made up my mind.

  “Go home,” I said.

  He stared at me uncomprehendingly.

  “Get sick, make your excuses, and get the hell off the planet,” I said. “Just go back to Tjant, forget you know me, and hope we never meet again.”

  “They’ll be after me,” he said. “I’ll never make it home.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said. I pointed to the body on the cot. “That’s our murderer. Just go.”

  “Thank you, Jake,” he said, walking out the door.

  I spent the next ninety minutes editing the conversation I’d had with Blair. When I was done, he’d confessed to killing Mglais. Then I went to Ambassador Ruskin’s office. He was still having breakfast, and since what I had to say to him could only be said in private, I waited until he finally showed up.

  He invited me in, the door closed behind us, and I took a seat opposite his desk.

  “Well?” he said.

  “It’s over,” I said. He stared at me. “The murder was committed by a member of the embassy’s security staff, a man named Herman Blair.”

  “How did he manage it?”

  I gave him Robert’s scenario, with a little cock and bull about how Blair was able to whisper the code and step off the airlift on the second floor just as the system went down. I don’t think I could have sold it on my own, but I knew he’d check with Robert and the Security Chief would confirm that it made sense.

  “Why did he do it?” asked Ruskin.

  “Check with your security staff. They’ll confirm that he hated the Tjantis.” I briefly told him about the attack on Achilles and its effect on Blair.

  “All right,” said the Ambassador. “Where is he now?”

  “Down in a storage room in Security,” I replied. “He’s dead.”

  “You killed him?” he said, frowning.

  I shook my head. “He killed himself.”

  “All this sounds a little bit far-fetched,” he said accusingly.

  “Then it’s lucky I’ve got an audio cube of his confession and his suicide, isn’t it?” I said, pulling it out of my pocket and placing it on his desk.

  He harrumphed a bit, and we talked a little more, and finally I mentioned that the body needed tending to, and he let me leave.

  I went down to the storage room and summoned Blaish, who showed up in only ninety seconds this time, as if he’d been waiting for me to call him.

  “Contact your people and have them cart him off to the lab,” I said.

  “I’ll do that immediately,” he said.

  “And you might as well go with them.”

  “But we still have a murderer to catch,” Blaish protested.

  “Sit down,” I said.

  “I can’t.”

  “All right,” I said. “Then just pay attention. The official record will report that Blair was the murderer of Mglais.”

  “But he wasn’t!” said Blaish. “We both know that!”

  “Listen to me,” I said. “The killer has been dealt with. But the political situation is such that if we release his identity, there will be no possibility of an end to hostilities between Odysseus and Tjant.”

  He just stared at me.

  “It’s your decision,” I continued. “You have within your grasp the ability to end the conflict, or to continue the war with the subsequent loss of life on both sides. I want you to consider your options very carefully. Either it ends right here and they’ll be signing a peace treaty next week, or you tell what you know and you alone are responsible for the military action that follows.”

  He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he spoke: “Blair was the murderer,” he said. “I will contact my people now.”

  As he left, I sat down on my chair to wait for the Droon police to show up. I didn’t even feel guilty about lying to him.

  I stuck around long enough to lie to the press and lie to the Board of Inquiry, and then the Democracy thoughtfully transported me back to Odysseus. I went straight to the city of Ajax, where I went on a three-day drunk, and finally I made my way back to Homer. I contacted a few friends to let them know I was back, then went to my office and activated my computer. While I was deleting all the bills and instructing the machine not to show me any that had been sent less than three times, the door opened and a uniformed man handed me a small package.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Who knows?” he said pleasantly. “My job is just to deliver ‘em.”

  I saw from the shipping label that it came from Tjant. I made sure it wasn’t ticking, then opened it. There was no note, no card—but I didn’t need one. One look told me who it was from. He’d seen me admiring it, and swiped it on the way out.

  It was the Moebius artifact.

  REAL JAKE

  There used to be an expression, millennia ago: “Real Jake”. I suppose it was pretty much like “The Real McCoy.” I’d heard it once or twice, but I never thought it would be any more meaningful than that. Let me tell you about it:

  I’d been away on a job for a week, out in the Delphini System. Maybe you heard about it: the nutcase who disguised himself as a pilot for an exclusive boarding school for young women, hijacked the ship, and demanded ransom. I was pretty proud of myself. I’d managed to bring him in without losing a single girl, all of whom knew obscenities I’d never heard before.

  I got back to Odysseus, and promptly headed off to the Alien Quarter to check with my sources and see what was going on. The first was Baro the Grub, who usually knew just about everything that was happening, especially if it was against the law. I found him on his usual street corner and approached him with a twenty-credit note in my hand, like always. But his reaction wasn’t like always.

  “You get away from me, Jake Masters!” he snapped.

  “What the hell’s your problem, Grub?” I asked.

  “You know damned well what it is. I told you just to arrest Myxo and Bargilian, and to leave Rami alone. They arrested her yesterday, and last night she killed herself in her cell.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “I’ve been on Delphini IV for the past week.”

  “Just keep away from me,” he said. “We’re not friends any more.”

  We never were friends. He was one of my snitches, my very best in fact, and I didn’t want to lose his services.

  “Lay off the drugs,” I told him. “They’re fucking up your mind. We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’re not hallucinating.”

  “Not tomorrow, not any time ever again,” he said, turning his back and waddling away.

  I did have a friend in the Quarter, probably my best friend on the planet. He was an alien, of course, a Patrukan from half a galaxy away; Men don’t live in the Quarter, and very few of us even go there for business. I could spell his name—Goriejyxsol—but I couldn’t pronounce it, so I called him George, which sounded sort of like what he called himself, and he didn’t seem to mind. He was the criminal kingpin of the Alien Quarter. Our interests coincided more often than not, and we’d actually worked together a few times. I even got a couple of his rivals put away, in exchange for his help on a case. He was a straight shooter who has never lied to me, and had pulled my fat out of the Quarter’s hate-filled fire more than once.

  Alien or not, he had a taste for Cygnian cognac, and I knew where to find him. His favorite bar was The Purple God, and I was just about the only Man whose presence they tolerated. I headed over there, reached the entrance, stepped aside to let a couple of 500-pound Torquals stagger out, and then entered. The place immediately fell silent and everyone stared at me, very much like the first time I’d visited it a couple of years ago. For a minute I thought George wasn’t there, but then I saw him, sitting at a corner table with a pair of blue-skinned Canphorites. I waved and began walking over, and he gestured for the Canphorite
s to get up and leave.

  “Hi, George,” I said. “How’s it going?”

  “I’m surprised you have the courage to show your face here, Jake,” he said coldly.

  I frowned. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “You arrest and deport my most trusted assistant and you have the nerve to ask me that?”

  “You mean Xhanidopoli?” I said.

  He winced at my pronunciation. “Of course.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “When do you think I did this?”

  “I know when you did it: three nights ago.”

  “You’re sure?” I said.

  “There were thirty eye-witnesses,” growled George.

  “What would you say if I told you I’ve been on Delphini IV for the past eight days?”

  He stared at me. “Are you telling me that?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And I’ve got the press clippings and the holo interview to prove it. Now just what the hell is going on, George? You claim I arrested your second-in-command. The Grub won’t talk to me because of something he says I did last night, when I was in transit from Delphini.”

  “If you’re lying, you know that I can disprove it easily enough,” said George.

  “Give it your best shot,” I answered.

  He looked around the room, and signaled a three-legged crimson-skinned alien to join us.

  “This is”—he uttered a typically unpronounceable alien name. “She will tell me if you are lying. Repeat what you just said to me.”

  “Are you a telepath?” I asked her.

  “An empath,” she replied.

  I repeated my brief story. When I was done George looked at her questioningly. She nodded her head once, then stood up and walked back to where she’d been when George summoned her.

  “You are telling the truth,” said George.

  “I know I am,” I said irritably.

  “Now we both know it.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was not here. You walked into The Purple God, flashed your credentials to the bartender and some others, announced that you had an arrest warrant for Xhanidopoli, trained your weapon on him, and marched him into the street and out of the Quarter.”

  “Did I read the warrant aloud?” I asked.

  “I am told you did.”

  “And I didn’t stumble over his name?”

  “No one has said that you did.”

  “That should have told you right there that it was an imposter,” I said. “The next alien name I pronounce without tripping over my tongue will be the first.”

  “So there is a Jake Masters imposter on the loose,” said George.

  “I don’t know why,” I said. “No one ever got rich by being Jake Masters. Especially me.”

  “You’re a detective,” he said emotionlessly. “Find out why.”

  “Thanks a heap.”

  “In the meantime,” he added, “I’ll pass the word.”

  I stared at him. “What word?”

  “Don’t believe anything Jake Masters tells you.”

  “What would I do without friends like you?” I said, getting up from the table.

  “Do you want a little protection?” he asked. “I could have two of my enforcers accompany you.”

  I shook my head. “Nobody wants to kill me. Someone just wants to be me.”

  “He’d have an easier job of it if you were eliminated.”

  I considered it for a moment, then shook my head again. “If this guy fooled you and the Grub, he can probably fool your enforcers. If they get the two together, and someone tells each of us to kill the phony, there’s a 50-50 chance I’ll be killed.”

  “All right,” he said. “Keep me informed.”

  “How will you know it’s me and not him?“

  “We’ll need a code word.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Just don’t give me one of your alien words that I can’t pronounce.”

  “It should be a word that you never use,” continued George, “since he’s clearly made a study of you in order to pass as Jake Masters.” He paused. “How about ‘felicity’?”

  “I have to admit it’s a word I can’t recall ever using,” I admitted. “Felicity it is.”

  “Good luck,” he said as I got up and walked to the door.

  Once I was back out on the street, I looked around to see if Baro the Grub was anywhere nearby. If he was, I was going to tell him to have a talk with George, but the street was empty except for a pair of Lodinites and a Djjongi, and I figured even under George’s protection it wasn’t safe to go searching for the Grub in the middle of the night, especially since he’d probably call out for help when he saw me approaching, so instead I turned back, hopped the slidewalk that led to the street my office was on, transferred to another for the last hundred yards, and finally reached the entrance to my building. I took the airlift up to the third floor, got off, and approached my office. I could see a light peeking out from under the door, checked to make sure my burner was fully charged, waited until the Spy-Eye system had identified my retina and bone structure, and opened the door—and found myself face-to-face with Jake Masters.

  He was me, all right, right down to the scar on my forehead where Sally the Knife had damned near cut off the top of my head with her knifelike prosthetic finger. His nose had been broken three or four times, as mine had. He was dressed like me, in what Lieutenant Selina Hernandez liked to call Casual Pauper. And when his hand came up from behind the desk, there was a pulse gun in it.

  “Mr. Masters, I presume?” he said, and I could have sworn it was my own voice.

  “Mr. Imposter, I presume?” I replied.

  “I mean you no harm,” he said. “If you’ll promise not to pull that laser pistol, I’ll put my gun away.”

  “What makes you think I’ve got a burner?” I said.

  He smiled. My smile. “How could I not know what Jake Masters comes armed with?” A pause. “Do you give me your word?”

  I nodded. “I’ll give you fair warning before I pull it out.”

  “Fair enough. You’re a man of your word.”

  “How the hell would you know?” I said. “We’ve never met before.”

  “Do you really believe I could speak and dress and move and look like this if we’d never met?”

  “Enough questions,” I said. “I want some answers. Who the hell are you?”

  “Can’t you tell?”

  I whipped out the burner and aimed it between his eyes. “You tell me.”

  “You don’t want to kill me,” he said. “It would be too much like suicide.”

  “With one difference,” I pointed out. “I’ll still be alive.”

  “Come on, Jake. You were gone eight days and I delivered three bad guys to the cops.”

  “And one of them worked for the best friend I’ve got on this world.”

  He seemed genuinely surprised. “Goriejyxsol?” he asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Damn!” he said. “I should have guessed. I’ve seen you with Goriejyxsol.”

  “Just who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  He sighed deeply. It sounded just like me. “I’m just a guy who’s trying to make ends meet.”

  I stared at him. “You may be a lot of things, but a guy isn’t one of them.” I looked for the telltale scars of cosmetic surgery, for the skin to be pulled tight near the ears and sideburns, and couldn’t find a thing. “You’re a shape-changer.” It wasn’t a question, because there was no other conclusion.

  He nodded his head. “I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble, Jake,” he said. “Honest, I didn’t.”

  “What the hell are you doing pretending to be me?” I demanded.

  “I was a thief,” he began.

  “You mean you stole something besides identities?” I replied. “That’s a comfort.”

  “I was caught, and I served my time. I thought I’d make a fresh start on a new world, and I came here.” Another sigh. “But my record came
with me, and no one trusts a shape-changer. I couldn’t get any work in the Alien Quarter, and it’s all-but-impossible for an alien to get work in the human sectors.” He paused, as if trying to think of how best to say what came next. “I became aware of the fact that you’re one of the few Men who comes and goes to and from the Quarter with impunity, that you’re the only Man that Goriejyxsol trusts. I learned that you were a detective, and I began studying you.”

  “I never saw you,” I said.

  “Yes you did,” he answered. “But I never appeared the same twice. It allowed me the luxury of spending great amounts of time observing you. If you went to The Purple God I’d be there in my true form. If you left and stopped at a restaurant for dinner, I’d show up as a Lodinite. If you stopped at the casino to lay a few bets, I’d be there as a Canphorite.”

  “I assume you’re going to get around to telling me why?”

  “Can’t you guess?” he said, genuinely surprised.

  “If you planned to kill me and take my place, you were going to find out just how dangerous this job is and how badly it pays,” I replied.

  He closed his eyes, smiled, and shook his head. “I wanted a week to show you what I can do.” I must have still looked puzzled, because he added, “I want to go to work for you.”

  “I don’t suppose the thought of applying for a job ever occurred to you,” I said.

  “Would you have listened to me?”

  “No,” I admitted. “No, probably not. I have enough trouble just feeding me.”

  “Well,” he said, “I hope you’ll consider it now. I could be very useful to you, Jake. I could be a decoy, letting the enemy watch me while you go about your business unhindered. And there are parts of the Alien Quarter where neither you nor Goriejyxsol are welcome—but I can assume whatever shape will get me in there.”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” I said.

  “What’s to think about?” he said. “You lost a partner a few months ago. Clearly you thought you had need of one.”

  “How did you know about Max?” I demanded.

  “I’ve been studying you for months, Jake,” he explained. “Max wasn’t fit for detective work.”