Phasewave

by David Gill

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  Glen wandered down the seemingly endless corridors of the Justice Department headquarters, listening to the echo of her heels and checking names on doors. She tried to remember the last time she had been inside the building and came to the conclusion that it had been over a year since her last visit. Since then nothing appeared to have changed, except that far fewer offices were occupied and the corridors were almost devoid of human activity. Eventually she found what she was looking for and knocked on a door marked Director of Internal Operations. The door was opened by a tall, rangy man with long arms and legs who greeted her with a big hug.

  'I'm glad you could make it,' Milo said. 'How long has it been this time?'

  'Too long,' said Glen. She gestured round the office. 'You're a director now? You must be mixing with the right people.'

  'That would be highly unlikely. I've no idea what happened to the real director; I just found this empty office and set up camp.'

  'He probably went down the tubes like the rest of us. I can't believe that wherever you end up you always act as if you own the place. You're looking well.'

  Milo gave her a craggy grin. 'Not as well as you. You look great. Don't you ever age?'

  'Keep it coming,' said Glen, 'I can take any amount of compliments like those.' She watched while Milo busied himself making coffee. He still had the carriage and rolling walk of an athlete, which he had once been in a previous career, even though he was now into his forties. Following the handover of power from the Vennican government to the Judiciary, most of the Justice Department staff ended up out of work, including both of them. Milo, however, retained the respect and gratitude of his colleagues by supporting them during the transition and negotiating contractual employment for them when the Department's workload eventually returned to normal.

  Milo produced two mugs and gingerly carried them in his huge hands. They sat in comfortable chairs around a low table. 'How is your new apartment? Are you enjoying life out of town?'

  'What I enjoy most is that I can go home at the end of the day, kick back on my balcony with my feet up and a glass of wine, and watch the sun set over the Kalm river. Am I painting a picture for you?'

  'It sounds great. I really must get round to making the move out of Kalmis; the city's far too crowded nowadays. Everyone I meet seems to be heading for either the river or the hills. Maybe I'll join you some day.'

  'I can definitely recommend it,' said Glen. 'So, what's happening in Milo's world?'

  'You must be wondering why I asked you to come here. Wait just a moment.' Milo produced a small electronic device and propped it up on the table. He switched it on and warned Glen by holding a finger to his lips. 'You can't be too careful nowadays.'

  'You think this place is bugged?' Glen whispered conspiratorially. 'You mean there's a bug in the director's office?'

  'Why bug the corridor when you can find out what the director is thinking,' said Milo. 'This box of tricks will detect any recording device; you can say what you like until the red light comes on. Where were we?'

  'I was wondering why you asked me to come here,' said Glen, 'and I was about to say that this usually happens only when you're desperate, or when you need a shoulder to cry on, which, on this occasion, I somehow doubt.'

  'I'm not that bad, am I?' asked Milo.

  'I can't think of any other occasion you've asked for my help.' Glen laughed. 'Sorry, I was just winding you up, as usual.'

  Milo was always pleased to work with Glen. She was a smart woman with a quick wit and sharp tongue and they had enjoyed an off-and-on relationship for years, but, for whatever reason, nothing had ever materialised from the relationship. 'You'll have noticed that hardly anyone works in this building nowadays,' he said.

  'I can't understand why that is. There's so much going on that I hardly find enough time to catch up with my friends. What is it this time?'

  'Gil has asked me to take on an unusual assignment, something which might interest you.'

  'Right now I could do with a change. I'll do anything, so long as it's not that alien rubbish that's doing the rounds.'

  Milo looked at her in surprise.

  'Oh, no! It is!' Glen burst into laughter.

  'Don't listen to any of the rumours you've heard,' said Milo. 'This is a genuine criminal investigation; the alien bit is just an add-on.'

  Glen laughed even louder. 'So an alien is just an add-on? You couldn't make that up.'

  Milo sighed. 'That is exactly the reaction I expected from you. Can't you take anything seriously?'

  Glen wiped tears from her eyes.

  'Give me a break,' said Milo. 'Gil has asked me to do this as a personal favour. He's struggling to retain the Department and desperately needs to resolve this case, which, I must warn you, is unusually messy.'

  'Even without the alien thing?' Glen could not keep a straight face.

  'I'm beginning to regret this already,' said Milo. 'I could get somebody else you know.'

  'I doubt it,' said Glen. 'One mention of the "A" word and all you'll see and hear is a cloud of dust and the sound of galloping hooves. Nobody in their right mind is going to go near this one, especially with the Phasewave Company involved. They employ more lawyers than the entire Judiciary. Anyway, what's the story?'

  'Gil is keeping everything to himself, and I actually know very little about it. All I do know is that it involves a female engineer who worked off-planet for the Phasewave Company. Gil wants us to be the support team while his investigator questions the engineer.'

  'Who is this investigator?'

  'His name is Declan. Do you know him?'

  Glen looked puzzled. 'Yes, but didn't he bale out some time ago?'

  'For the past six years he has been working on Scion3, and now, apparently, he is heading back to Vennica. I don't know what politics are behind Declan's employment, but Gil has set his heart on using him.'

  'If this is the same Declan I'm thinking of, is he really suitable for the questioning of a female engineer? I doubt if he knows what a woman is. Wouldn't it be better if I did the questioning and let Declan work with you?'

  'Actually, that was the first thing I suggested,' said Milo, 'but, for whatever reason, Gil has already made up his mind. I suggest we wait and see how it works out. There is a fairly tight time scale, so, if it looks like we aren't getting anywhere, I'll go back to Gil and try again.'

  'I guess I would be fairly relaxed about that.'

  'I wouldn't worry too much,' said Milo. 'I've a feeling that there could be considerable pointing of fingers after this investigation is over; it's probably better for you if you're not seen to be in the front line. Resources in the Department are now pretty thin on the ground, and at the end of the day I think it will probably be left to us to close it off. Are you in?'

  'Isn't this always the way it works?' said Glen. 'Everyone further up the food chain gets to cherry-pick, and we end up with the rubbish that falls through the cracks.'

  'I take it that's a "yes" then.'

  'Of course' said Glen. 'I wouldn't miss this for the world. You get all serious and sort things out while I keep you sane and humour you. It's a winning combination.'

  'But you have to take the alien bit seriously, at least until we find out what really happened.'

  Glen tried hard to keep a straight face. 'Okay, but one last joke. Just one. Inside a room are an alien, a really sharp investigator and a woman. On the floor is a fifty buck note. Who picks it up?'

  Milo shook hi
s head.

  'The woman, of course. The other two don't exist!'

  Milo shook his head again and sighed. 'Is that it? Are there any more where that came from?'

  'No, that's it.' Glen made a zipping gesture across her mouth.

  'You promise?'

  Glen struggled to regain her composure. Eventually she managed to ask when they were to start.

  'Gil hasn't got final approval yet,' said Milo. 'He's with the Security Council right now, begging and pleading for a case which no-one else will touch with a long pole.'

  'In other words, nothing has really changed while I've been away.'

  'Not unless you include the alien add-on.'

  'No comment,' said Glen.

  'Do you believe in the concept of alien life forms?'

  Without looking up, Gil could tell from the gravel voice that it was Correy who had asked the question. 'No,' he replied. 'I concern myself with facts, not speculation.'

  Silence returned to the darkened room where only small pools of reflected light around the edge of the table indicated the presence of its five occupants. Gil turned the last page of the document he was reading, replaced it on the table and leaned back in his chair. He looked around the chamber while he collected his thoughts and wondered what irrational fear always made him feel uneasy whenever he was summoned by the Law Lords to appear before the Security Council. After all the years he had been attending the meetings he still felt uncomfortable in the presence of the company he shared. Someone cleared their throat.

  'Do you fully understand the situation?' asked Correy.

  Gil nodded in reply.

  'Then what is your opinion? Are you confident that the Justice Department can resolve this case?'

  For the first time Gil felt no trace of nervousness as he prepared to answer the four men sitting opposite. Correy, Soulah, Hannif and Goldman, the four most distinguished men of law on Vennica, which by inference included the Outstations, Old Colonies, New Colonies and every civilised part of space. Men, once contemporaries of his, who had attained their stations in life through various combinations of skill, luck, political manoeuvring and skilful manipulation, while Gil languished at a lower level above which all hope of further promotion had long been abandoned.

  'It's not going to be a problem. I will deliver.'

  The silence returned while Gil's reply was carefully digested.

  'We have concerns,' said Goldman, the youngest of the Law Lords. Thin-faced and arrogant, with an unwavering stare, Goldman was widely tipped to break convention and jump rank to become the next council president after Correy stepped down. Gil had always found him particularly difficult to deal with. 'In view of the unusual nature of this case, do you consider your staff sufficiently qualified to carry out such a sensitive investigation?'

  'My investigator arrives from Spaceport today,' Gil replied. 'He has my complete confidence and will be responsible for handling all aspects of the investigation. In addition to which, I am also employing a highly experienced support team.'

  Correy cleared his throat again. 'Due to the intense media speculation generated by this case, do you appreciate the importance of substantiating beyond all doubt any facts which may prove or disprove your findings?'

  'Certainly,' said Gil. 'I don't anticipate any difficulties because my agent specializes in this type of work.'

  Goldman looked around at the others in the half light. 'May I take it we are agreed in handing over custody of the accused to the Justice Department?'

  Apparently they all were, although Gil saw no indications of acknowledgment exchanged. He felt relieved that at long last an opportunity had been granted to fight for the survival of his department, one final chance to reverse the decline of his fortunes by accepting what was potentially one of the highest profiled cases ever to come his way. A peculiar excitement gripped him. Although the case in question had attracted an inordinate amount of unwanted attention, it appeared at first sight to be a relatively straightforward investigation, but, he reminded himself, any case that ended up on his desk was inevitably one which no other department would touch. If, on the other hand, the defendant was insane, which appeared the most likely finding, all he needed to do was to provide the necessary proof and gratefully accept it as a gift. But life, he also reminded himself, had rarely treated him that kindly in the past.

  'Two weeks,' said Correy, and Gil was unable to work out whether it was a statement or a question.

  'So we are all in agreement.' Goldman addressed Gil across the table. 'The Justice Department is given custody of the prisoner for two weeks, after which period of time we will accept your submission for consideration.'

  Gil collected his documents and stood up to leave the room.

  'For our records,' asked Goldman, 'what is the name of this agent of yours?'

  'Declan,' Gil replied, surprised by the unexpected question. 'His name is Declan.'

  Goldman added something to his notes. 'You will ensure that this Declan fully understands our exact requirements?'

  'He is a trained investigator,' said Gil. 'In addition to which he has an extensive scientific background which will be particularly advantageous in this case.'

  Correy's face creased into a grimace. 'Well, let's hope for all our sakes that your investigator shares your desire not to deviate from the facts.'

  'Declan is the most logical person I know,' Gil replied, before turning for the door. But, as he left the room, a niggling doubt disturbed the elation of the moment and he recalled a previous incident, years before, when he had been in exactly the same situation, except on that occasion the subject of the discussion had been Declan himself. This time he hoped the outcome would be a significant improvement on the previous one.

  A line of weary travellers straggled across the almost deserted arrival hall of the Kalmis Shuttleport, their hollow footsteps echoing in the huge, empty space. By the exit two men waited, observing the passing scene, examining under the green glow of overhead lights the tired and worn faces passing by on their way to further, unknown destinations.

  'Will you put that thing down?' said Slater.

  Jarvine lowered his arm and let the small flag displaying the badge of the Justice Department swing by his side. 'Shuttleport is a big place, how is he going to recognize us?'

  Slater rested his large frame against a wall and scanned the approaching file through narrowed eyes. 'Don't worry, I'll recognize him.' Six years was a long time but Declan was someone he was unlikely to ever forget. 'And remember,' he added sarcastically, 'this is the man who has come back to Vennica to save us all; we've been told to make him feel at home and treat him just like one of us. Well, there's a first time for everything.'

  'Hey, take a look over there,' said Jarvine. 'Can you see what I see?' A tall figure appeared by the gate, stopped, and looked around the building expectantly.

  'What's happened to him?' asked Slater. 'He looks like he's been through a mincer.'

  The man caught sight of them and stood, motionless, while the moving line of arriving passengers parted around him. Something about his posture, the slight stoop and forward thrust of his head, struck Slater as being familiar.

  'That's him!' said Slater. 'That's the one, that's Declan!' He made no attempt to move, but returned the other man's stare while memories of their last, bitter encounter flooded from the recesses of his mind. Was it really Declan?

  Eventually the man walked over and stood before them. Ugly, red wheals disfigured one side of his face, contrasting vividly with his deathly pale, almost translucent skin, and a sparse stubble of dark hair sprouted through the undamaged areas of his scalp.

  'Are you expecting me?' Declan's voice contained no hint of greeting.

  Jarvine jerked his head towards a corridor leading from the main terminal. 'We're taking you to see Gil.' The two men turned and walked rapidly away.

  Slater! Declan quickly pushed aside the picture that flashed before his eyes. It had happened long ago. Why had Gil not come to me
et him in person? He turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction while he tried to gather his wits. The encounter with Slater and Jarvine was unexpected, but if he went with them would Gil be able to protect him? Fast footsteps approached from behind, followed by the crush of a heavy hand on his arm that jerked him to a halt and lanced a shaft of pain through his upper body.

  'Didn't you hear me?' Slater snapped. 'What do you think you're doing?'

  'My cases,' said Declan. 'I have to collect them.'

  'They're already taken care of,' said Jarvine.

  'Then you should have said so.'

  'This way,' said Slater, releasing his grip. He waited to ensure that Declan followed.

  They walked without speaking. Jarvine released a locked door leading into a long, deserted corridor but, after a few minutes of walking, Declan's muscles began to ache from the strain of the unaccustomed gravity and he started to lag behind.

  Slater stopped and waited for him to catch up. 'What's the matter with you?' he rudely asked.

  'Why are we in such a hurry?' said Declan.

  Slater ignored the question but continued at a slower pace until they entered a transparent elevator which accelerated upwards through a shaft inside the massive supporting arches of the terminal roof.

  Declan tried to keep track of the directions they were taking but quickly became disorientated inside the vast maze of tunnels and halls that comprised Shuttleport. 'Where are we going?' he asked.

  'You'll see,' muttered Slater.

  The lift's journey ended on the outside roof of the arrival building where a vehicle was waiting. The three men climbed on board and the cab lurched onto its allocated monorail into the night sky. Enhanced by years of isolation in deep space, Declan's particularly acute hearing tuned into the almost inaudible steel-whistling melody of the overhead runners as they brushed against the monorail above. The lights of Shuttleport fell behind while the carriage continued to climb into the darkness above an empty plain, its passage only disturbed by the occasional sigh of lights as other transporters flashed by heading in the opposite direction. A giant silver moon interrupted the seamless mantle of the night, dwarfing an adjacent elongated flare of light which was Spaceport, the city in the sky where, only a few hours earlier, he had briefly stopped after the long journey back from Scion3. The lights changed in hue to a deep indigo as they slipped behind a thin ribbon of high level cloud, but the sight did little to quell the rapidly forming conviction that his unwelcome arrival was merely a foretaste of things to come.