by E. R. Torre
“Pardon us, Inquisitor,” the officer Inquisitor Damien bumped said.
Inquisitor Damien nodded.
He proceeded to the transport under the watchful eyes of Lieutenant Chandler.
Lieutenant Chandler sat opposite Inquisitor Damien in the transport.
“To the Starport?” she asked.
“Yes,” Inquisitor Damien replied. “But first, a small detour.”
“Sir?”
Inquisitor Damien reached into his trench coat and, from a pocket within, produced a Parisian P. D. Dispatch Communicator. It was the one he just lifted from the officer he bumped.
“The Forensic Techs gave this to me when I was on the roof of the Cheval Hotel,” Inquisitor Damien said. “I should give it back to them.”
“You could leave it in the station,” Lieutenant Chandler said. “I’m sure they’ll return it to the appropriate officer.”
“I could, but if it gets misplaced it’s the Officer’s head,” Inquisitor Damien said. “Anyway, the Cheval isn’t too far out of the way to return it personally.”
“It is not,” Lieutenant Chandler acknowledged.
When they got back to the Cheval Hotel they found the crowds around it still strong.
Inquisitor Damien rose from his seat and headed to the vehicle’s exit. Lieutenant Chandler followed, but the Inquisitor motioned for her to remain.
“This should take only a few minutes,” Inquisitor Damien said. “I’ll go to the roof and be down before you know it.”
“Or course, sir,” Lieutenant Chandler said.
Inquisitor Damien exited the vehicle and walked into the Chandler Hotel. He found Inspector Holland waiting for him at the back of the lobby.
Inquisitor Damien grabbed the Inspector by the arm and motioned him to the back of the Hotel and the rear exit.
“What did you find?” Inquisitor Damien asked.
“It is better you see.”
“Fine,” Inquisitor Damien said. “Make it quick. I don’t have much time.”
They exited through the rear of the building and were in a gritty alley. They moved along, passing the building directly behind the Cheval Hotel and crossing to the next street over. They entered another alley and, at its rear, Inspector Holland stopped before a large, metallic garbage dumpster.
“Take a look,” he said and pointed to the ground behind the dumpster.
There, on the muddy floor, was what looked like a gray, fleshy blanket. Its surface was watery and it smelled of rot.
“Our techs were canvasing the neighborhood and found this,” Holland said. “Initial sensor sweeps indicate it’s organic. It looks like some kind of skin, but the DNA is too degraded to determine who or what it came from.”
Inquisitor Damien stared hard at the fleshy substance, his eyes not wavering. He reached for his sensor and collected a small amount of the material.
“What do you make of it?” Holland asked.
“As you said, it’s organic.”
Inquisitor Damien pressed another button on his sensor and straightened up.
“Are there any restaurants nearby?”
“A couple.”
“Any of them known to serve exotic dishes?”
“I believe,” Holland began. His head came down. “Yes sir, they do.”
Inquisitor Damien shut his sensor off and shrugged.
“I’m reading traces of Helfor DNA,” he said. “Around the Norea Rings, that’s quite a delicacy.”
Disappointment filled Inspector Holland’s face.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Inquisitor.”
Inquisitor Damien put away his sensor.
“You’ll make a good Forensic Technician, Mister Holland, but not every irregularity, strange though it might be, is important to a case. Keep your focus on the roof of the Cheval Hotel. All the evidence to the crime is there.”
“Again, my apologies, Inquisitor,” Holland said. “Perhaps my zeal is—”
“Forget it,” Inquisitor Damien said. “Get back to your job and make the Empire proud.”
Inquisitor Damien extended his hand.
“We may not get a chance to see each other again,” Inquisitor Damien said. “Good luck to you, Mister Holland.”
“Thank you, Inquisitor.”
With that, the Forensic Technician turned and began walking away.
“Oh, one more thing,” Inquisitor Damien said. He pulled out the communicator he stole from the officer in the Police Station parking lot and held it up. “I found this in your police station parking lot. I was in a rush and unable to leave it at the offices there. You mind taking it back for me? I’m sure its owner is looking for it.”
“Yes sir,” Inspector Holland said.
He took the device and walked away.
When he was out of view, Inquisitor Damien once again leaned in close to the organic material. A deep frown formed on his forehead. He reached for his sensor and re-activated it. He then pressed a couple of buttons on the device.
Though it looked like all standard sensors, this device was different. It took a sample of the organic material and sent the data in encrypted form back to the Salvo.
With the information on its way, Inquisitor Damien felt satisfaction. Though the DNA did indeed have traces of Helfor stock, there were also hints of genetic alterations. It was subtle enough the Forensic Tech didn’t notice it, nor likely ever would, but it was more evidence Inquisitor Damien was closing in on his prey.
They won’t hide in the shadows much longer, he thought.
Inquisitor Damien stood back up.
At the rate of decomposition, the material in the alley would be all but gone in another hour and incapable of offering evidence in this case.
Inquisitor Damien hated lying to Inspector Holland and Lieutenant Chandler, but there was no need to bring others into his personal investigations.
Inquisitor Damien exited the alley and made his way back to the Cheval Hotel and, from there, his waiting vehicle.
14
Comet Ceres, Epsillon Empire
The spacecraft was attached to the rocky surface of the comet, its hull hidden within the shadows of the mountains surrounding it. For over forty years she remained in this dark, forgotten place, unseen and unknown.
Gravity hooks kept her still as the comet flew its ninety five year long elliptical orbit. The journey took it into the solar system and around its enormous sun. The sun’s gravity sped the comet up and whipped it past the mighty star before hurling her back into deep space. Eventually the gravity of that same sun would draw her back as it did now.
At one time the comet was a curiosity and delight to those who followed her progress. Not anymore.
This made her an ideal hiding place.
Lights from the sun shone through one of the craft’s windows. A thick layer of dust accumulated over the many years the craft lingered in this spot and dulled the penetrating starlight.
The ship’s panels were dark, her controls off.
All was silent. Silent and cold.
Minutes passed. Ceres’ starboard side lit up. Dust particles flew like tiny leaves blowing from a tree. The distant sun’s lights grew brighter and brighter.
Within the dead ship, a single red light came on. It was from the star craft’s communication systems. It received a message sent from the opposite side of the explored universe. It was buried deep in standard transmissions and impossible for anyone not looking to find. The message was relayed from its source of origin through a chain of Displacers and took close to fifteen minutes to reach its destination. The speed with which the message was relayed would shock and surprise the citizens of either Empire. Only a very select few were aware of the tech required to boost such signals across such vast distances.
Once the transmission was received by the spacecraft, the cabin’s lights came on and one after another of the ship’s long dormant machinery activated.
A chair swiveled and an opaque black shield slid away, revealing a secon
d, transparent one.
Within the shield sat what appeared to be a machine. Its body was humanoid in shape and completely still. Long metal limbs hinted at an athletic body. They were barely visible through the low light illumination. That light came from a rectangular opening a few feet away and directly before it. Within that opening was a black sky filled with millions of stars. The brightest and largest of them, the system’s sun, lay at its dead center.
The creature faced that light. Its head was smooth black metal and it had neither eyes, ears, a nose, nor a mouth.
It moved.
The creature’s head turned ever so slightly clockwise. Lights in the paneling around it flickered brighter. A couple of monitors over its head came to life. They displayed lines of information from the just received transmission. In the central monitor appeared a display of the composition of an organic material. It was the same material Inquisitor Damien examined on that Parisian street. The entire transmission, in fact, was the same one Inquisitor Damien sent to his ship.
The view screen adjusted its display, sharpening its focus and adjusting the light.
The creature’s hands came to life. They worked the controls on the armrests at its side, sending in a series of commands.
Alerts appeared on the monitors.
The creature’s limbs gripped down on the chair. More information was displayed and the creature sat back. Artificial gravity controls were activated.
For a while the creature remained still. Then came the sounds of whirling machinery and a metal cover slid over it.
When the cover retracted, the machine creature was gone, replaced with a naked woman.
She had a thin, almost frail body which fit snugly into the cushions of the chair. She was in her late forties and sported shoulder length gray hair. Her face was plain and her eyes closed.
More lights came on within the enveloping seat.
Her eyes slowly opened. They were brilliant blue and shone through the dim illumination.
While her body remained perfectly still, those bright blue eyes took in the area around her.
Every one of the ship’s panels were active and awaiting her command.
“Open,” she said.
The transparent paneling slid away.
Moments later the woman was dressed. She sat at the navigator’s chair and stared through the forward view screen.
She pressed several panel buttons and received an information dump. The news was startling and curious but nothing, to her, was as important as what was relayed from Davilia.
She downloaded still more information. Inquisitor Damien had secretly ordered his computers to analyze the samples he found in the alley and, unknown to him, the preliminary results of that examination set off hidden programs within his ship’s computers. Those programs forwarded the information to the woman’s ship.
She tapped more keys and brought up still more information on the assassination Inquisitor Damien was investigating. The details proved irrelevant but a smile crossed her face. She was scheduled to emerge in another years’ time but this signal’s arrival proved propitious.
Perhaps there is such a thing as fate, she mused.
She pressed another button and a second transmission was sent. It would travel farther than the one she received. Much farther.
The wheels are in motion.
The woman eyed a monitor to her right. It displayed the planet she once called home.
Pomos was heavily scarred and devastated. The moon around it had crumbled and splintered.
She pressed more buttons.
There were ships in orbit around her devastated world.
She read the information on them and thought for a few seconds.
She pressed yet another button.
Her ship’s thrusters came on and the shuttle lifted from the asteroid’s surface and moved toward the devastated Moon. There, it lost itself in layers of loose rocks that were once part of the Moon’s surface. Soon, she found what she was searching for.
The device was man made and circular. It was a large metal ring with a hollow center.
The machine woman pressed buttons on her screen and the device before her ship came alive.
It was a Displacer. When activated, its hallow core energized and created an interdimensional tear. Flying through it allowed starships to enter a slipstream and appear, sometimes almost instantly, at points many hundred light years away, provided they too had their own Displacer unit ready to receive the traveling vessel.
There were limits to Displacer travel. If the machine woman adhered to them, it would take her more than a month to reach her destinations.
She didn’t have that time and reflected on how fortunate it was she knew how to cheat the limits of Displacer travel.
Things would move quickly from this point on.
It was inevitable.
15
Planet Helios, Home of the Council of Twelve
The slender man hurried past one of the broad hallways of the Overlord Central Towers. Sweat ran down his face while his legs, stiff and unused to such activity, propelled him forward in halting spurts. He turned the corner and almost ran into Inquisitor Connors.
Connors was as imposing as the slender man was not. The Inquisitor held her ground, her face barely hiding the contempt she had for the bureaucrat.
“What can I do for you, Mister Morrison?” Inquisitor Connors said.
Morrison swallowed.
“I must see the Overlord,” he said.
“Overlord Dianna is in retreat and does not wish to be bothered, especially without an appointment.”
“This is an emergency, Inquisitor,” Morrison said. “I would have gone through the proper channels but there is no time.”
Inquisitor Connors pressed a button on her wrist pad. A holographic display filled with information appeared just over the device.
“There are no emergency alerts,” Inquisitor Connors said.
Morrison’s teeth grinded in his closed mouth. He took a breath and, in the calmest voice he could manage, said:
“The matter I wish to discuss is known only to me. I can assure you it is an emergency.”
Inquisitor Connors was unmoved.
“If it is, explain it to me first. Otherwise leave. Now.”
Officer Morrison nodded. At least she was willing to listen.
“My apologies, Inquisitor,” Morrison said. “I will do as you ask and can only hope you understand the gravity of this—”
“By the Gods, state your case.”
“As you know, my station is in charge of checking Displacer logs,” Officer Morrison said. “Our work is detailed and, most of the time, routine. No more than fifteen minutes ago I noticed an irregularity.”
“This irregularity requires the Overlord’s attention?” Inquisitor Connors asked, her tone of voice highly skeptical.
“Yes, Inquisitor,” Officer Morrison said. “I recorded the activation and entry by Displacer of a shuttle craft into Arcadia.”
“Arcadia?” Inquisitor Connors said. “I have not heard of this system.”
“Very few have,” Morrison said. “When the Displacer activation popped up on the computers, even I didn’t know what to make of it. I researched the system and the only documentation I found was over forty years old. At that point, the Phaecian Military abandoned the planet and set her Displacer to self-destruct the moment the final Phaecian vessel left that system.”
“And?”
“Don’t you see? The fact that the Arcadia Displayer was activated not fifteen minutes ago proves it wasn’t destroyed back then. I double checked all records and could not find a single other flight into the system since it was supposedly closed off.”
Inquisitor Connors frowned and Officer Morrison felt the adrenaline surge in him.
“There’s more,” he said. “The ship that flew into Arcadia was a shuttle craft. A small one. It was unmarked.”
“Unmarked? Impossible.”
“Apparently
not. There’s one more thing: The shuttle’s point of origin was disguised.”
“How?”
“It supposedly arrived from the Genora Displacer but no flights have gone through there for the past two days. I personally called Genora and verified this information. However the ship came into Arcadia, it was not through that Displacer.”
The frown on Inquisitor Connors’ face deepened.
“This can mean only one thing,” Officer Morrison said. “The shuttle’s a spy ship. Most likely, it was sent from the Epsillon Empire and proves their intelligence agencies found out about that system and are checking our buried secrets.”
Inquisitor Connors drew a sharp breath and motioned to Overlord Dianna’s door.
“Follow me,” she said.
After telling Overlord Dianna all he knew, Morrison was escorted from the Council member’s presence.
In the darkness of her meditation room Overlord Diana sat. Standing before her was Inquisitor Connors. The Inquisitor was silent and waited for the Overlord’s orders. Overlord Dianna closed her eyes. Deep was her meditation.
Abruptly, the Overlord rose from her chair. She walked to one of the office’s small windows and gazed at the garden plains. The Ghalia flowers were in bloom and, unlike her office, the garden was filled with bright, joyous colors.
“What happened on Arcadia is of great concern,” Overlord Dianna said.
“What do you suppose—”
“It’s irrelevant what I suppose,” Overlord Dianna said. “The important thing is what we do.”
“Yes, Overlord,” Inquisitor Connors said. “The backbone of our forces remain in Erebus. We can have a sizeable force in Arcadia in two days.”
“Two days?” Overlord Dianna snapped. “The Gods alone know what an intruder can do with that much time.”
“We still have assets on Davilia. We can have the HPB Salvo in Arcadia within—”
“Leave that to me,” Overlord Dianna said.
The Inquisitor took a step back. The Overlord’s black eyes were filled with incredible fury. Despite this, the Overlord reached out and calmly laid her hand on Inquisitor Connors’ shoulder.