Hailey's Comet Anthology

by Selma J Lewis

  Lipton looked at Hailey for a prompt. Hailey shrugged. “I told you, Karl, no one believes anything Mitch says. I don’t know why you got so worked up about it. Sure, he says they showed him a picture of their contact, but what are the chances they’d do something like that?” Hailey watched the sergeant’s reaction.

  “Nevermind, Corporal. I’ll go find the witness myself. What’s his full name, ma’am?”

  “Mitch McDonald. He’s at the mine. Looks kinda like a turtle,” Hailey replied.

  “Thank you, ma’am. You’re free to go. Lipton, get back to your beat.” Sergeant Landry strode out of the diner with purpose.

  “What do you make of that, Agent Ramirez?”

  “He seemed like someone in need of getting to Mitch before anyone else.”

  “But he won’t find ‘Mitch’ at the mines.”

  “Right, so what will he do next? I planted a tracker on him.”

  “How? When? I didn’t see you –”

  “No one ever does.”

  Sergeant Landry

  “Why don’t you go on home. I’ll be watching his movements for a while.”

  “Agent, certainly I can be of more help to you,” Lipton insisted.

  “When’s the next shuttle from Fansha?” Hailey asked.

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Not much to do until then. I’ll be at the spaceport day after tomorrow. You be there, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lipton reluctantly left Hailey alone. She felt better to be free of her helper-slash-burden. She cursed her brief moment of sympathy that led to inviting the young Sector Security officer along on her mission. Then she wondered why the limbic monitor had allowed the sympathy to exist long enough to let her give in to it. Maybe my pushing past it from time to time is affecting how it operates when I leave it alone.

  Hailey had the ability to override only one of her implants: the limbic monitor. She appreciated its usefulness in keeping her calm and in control of mind and body through the stresses of difficult, dangerous missions. But those few times she was given time to visit, or even just think about the people she loved, she pushed past the LM’s inhibitor and felt the full glory of human connection. As far as she knew, Agent Jackson Quint was the only other Wraith who could do it.

  As she watched and listened to everything the sergeant’s tracker recorded, she pushed on her LM and felt emotions emerge from the dark recesses of her consciousness. She wanted to think about Jax, her best friend, her future, her love. She always enjoyed the feeling of Jackson: the warmth of knowing he loved her, the happiness of remembering their many fun times together, the gratitude that he believed her and supported her when no one else did.

  Suddenly, an ugly, hopeless feeling overwhelmed all the good ones. Hailey quickly reverted back to dispassionate Wraith, so painful was the feeling that blindsided her. What was that? she asked her multi-implant-enhanced brain.

  Her brain had no answer for her, so she refocused on the tracker. Sergeant Landry hunted around outside the mine entrance and inside the foreman’s office. His inquiries about Mitch McDonald led to nil, of course. She watched his signal go back to headquarters, then she listened to his conversations there.

  “Janice, look up a citizen by the name of Mitch McDonald,” Hailey heard Landry say.

  “There’s no one with that name in Sigmatál.”

  “How about just Mitch?”

  “Three Mitches. Mitch Flemming works in the mine. Mitch Pascal owns a small business. Mitch Pascal, Jr. is in second grade at Sigmatál Elementary School, Delta.”

  “How about McDonalds?”

  “No McDonalds.”

  “At all?”

  “Nope.”

  “Give me the addresses for the three Mitches,” the sergeant ordered. “I should’ve gotten that woman’s name,” he mumbled. He picked up his comm. “Lipton. What was the name of that witness you had?”

  C’mon, Karl, make up something good, Hailey sent telepathically. Alas, telepathy was not one of her many implanted abilities.

  “Whaddaya mean you never got it?” Pause. “Well, I know it’s probably McDonald, too, but what about a first name?” Pause. “I don’t care about Blanche, the neighbor!” Pause. “What tavern?” Pause. “Lipton, you’re pretty useless, you know that? There are a dozen taverns near the mine!” Pause. “You find that woman and come back with some useful information, Private Lipton!”

  Hailey sighed. No doubt, Corporal Lipton would return to the diner soon in search of her. She waited. It suddenly occurred to her that she was hungry and sitting in a diner with only a chaiko in front of her. She flagged down a server and ordered a hearty meal, not knowing when she’d get another chance to eat. All the while, she monitored Sergeant Landry’s tracker. She turned on the tracker she had slipped into Karl Lipton’s coat pocket. He was back at the spaceport, his appointed post for the day. To her surprise, he was not returning to the diner. What is he doing? Hailey wondered.

  Just as her meal arrived, Landry’s voice piped up on her ear bud. “Lipton? You got something?” Pause. “Flick’s Brick Barbeque and Pub? And the woman’s name? Millie McDonald.” Pause. “OK.” Landry closed the comm and hollered to someone in the office, “Bracken! Get over here!”

  “Yes, sir,” another voice came into Hailey’s earbud.

  “Get into civvies and keep an eye on Corporal Lipton.”

  “Sir?”

  “Did I stutter?” Landry growled.

  “No, sir. What am I watching for?”

  “Anything suspicious with shuttle passengers,” Landry replied. “Now get going.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Corporal Bracken

  Hailey ate her meal in a hurry, then rushed over to the spaceport. She remained hidden from Karl, appearing to everyone else to be another port user. She looked around for Bracken, someone below Sergeant Landry, probably a corporal, but out of uniform and on surveillance duty.

  Sector Security, Hailey knew, did not specialize in stealth ops. She was sure a quick sweep of the spaceport would reveal Bracken easily. But her first sweep revealed nothing. She moved to a new location and scanned the area. He had to be near Lipton, she reasoned. Then she smiled. A man in casual pants and shirt with a light jacket sat in the waiting room reading his tablet. Two things gave him away: the tablet never changed pages, and the man wore his Sector Security standard-issue black shoes.

  Bracken sat facing Karl’s general direction but kept himself hidden behind waiting travelers. Hailey wondered if she could leave the surveillance of Karl to Bracken. If Karl did anything surreptitiously, would Bracken catch it? Hailey decided: probably not. So, she stayed nearby, but out of sight.

  After the last shuttle for that day departed, Karl Lipton left. So did Bracken. Hailey had monitored Sergeant Landry all day, but none of his conversations were overly suspicious. He did speak on his comm once, the transcript of which Hailey stored in her head:

  “Yes, ma’am.” Pause. “Double, day after tomorrow.” Pause. “I can handle it.” Pause. “Of course.”

  Without hearing the other side of the conversation, Hailey could only guess at several versions of the exchange.

  Scenario One:

  “Landry. Kraus.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you have extra coverage for the next Fansha transport?”

  “Double, day after tomorrow.”

  “What about the mine?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “You’ve got the town covered, too?”

  “Of course.”

  Scenario Two:

  “Landry. Boss-woman-of-the-revolution.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So-and-so tells me you want more payoff for the next shuttle.”

  “Double, day after tomorrow.”

  “I heard SWORD has been called in.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “OK, double, but only if you get our people past SWORD.”

  “Of course.”

  S
cenario Three:

  “Husband, this is Wife.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did you pick up that extra shift? We need the money.”

  “Double, day after tomorrow.”

  “Will you be able to stay awake that long?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Can you pick up milk on the way home?”

  “Of course.”

  She’d have to keep an eye on Landry. During her speculations, Lipton had made his way to headquarters to sign out for the day. Hailey didn’t have a tracker on Bracken, so she calculated the odds that he had also returned to the station to report to Landry: ninety-five percent. After Lipton left HQ, Landry’s conversation with Bracken was in Hailey’s ear.

  “Well?”

  “He just manned his post at the spaceport.”

  “Talk to anyone?”

  “Just ‘good day’ and stuff like that.”

  “Dismissed.” Hailey heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Landry muttered, “Who’s on night shift? Hey, Gomez, com’ere.”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “Corporal Lipton just left. I want you to follow him home and let me know if anyone visits him.”

  “All night?”

  “You’ll get paid overtime. Now get moving.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t let him see you.”

  Hailey suspected Landry of being involved with the rebels while Landry suspected Lipton. Or was Landry keeping an eye on Lipton because Lipton was a little too eager to catch the rebels, and needed to be circumvented? Hailey pondered the questions as she exercised in her hotel room. She still kept track of the two men electronically, but they were each sedentary in their homes. Her TDN recorded things while she slept; in the morning, Hailey reviewed everything at twenty times normal speed.

  She wasn’t getting anywhere following the people she was following, so she decided to spend the day in the Sector Security headquarters, planting bugs and listening to conversations. One conversation between Bracken and another officer caught her attention.

  “Hey, do you know why Gomez pulled a twelve-hour shift?”

  “How do I know?” Bracken answered. “Ask the sarge.”

  “He’s in a mood. I’m steering clear. But Fullerton’s gonna get on my case about this overtime.”

  “Then ask Gomez.”

  “Shit, why didn’t I think of that? He’s not here and not answering comms. You’re friends with him. Don’t you talk?”

  “We just got stationed here at the same time so everyone thinks we’re buddies. I hardly know the guy,” Bracken huffed.

  “OK. Hey, wanna take my shift at the port tomorrow?”

  “No, thank you! Every time a Fanshan shuttle comes in, Landry gets tense. I’ll be walking my beat way on the other side of the colony.”

  The conversation ended abruptly as each participant became frustrated with the other. In fact, several exchanges in HQ were tense. Hailey checked the duty roster for the next day. Lipton and several others were scheduled to work at the spaceport. Lipton was still the only one who was there every time the Fanshan shuttle came in. The others seemed to want to escape port inspection duty on those days. She could not find anyone who was there significantly more often than anyone else.

  She had to witness the passengers disembarking the shuttle herself. Guessing was getting her nowhere.

  Despite his assertion that he would be walking his beat far from the spaceport, Corporal Bracken showed up at the arrivals gate the next day and took his post. Lipton, of course, was there, as were four other officers in uniform.

  The shuttle arrived and began to spill out passengers. A recorded announcement played repeatedly on the public-address system. “Attention, arriving passengers. Welcome to Sigmatál. Please comply with local Sector Security inspections and answer all questions put to you by uniformed officers. We appreciate your patience during this process and thank you for cooperating – for the safety of everyone on Sigmatál. Thank you.”

  Hailey watched the people being questioned, listened to their answers, monitored the mood of the people in line. When Sergeant Landry showed up, the officers got tense, which spread to the crowd. Landry paced back and forth, watching, and keeping an especially close watch on Lipton. At one point, he stopped and stared at someone Lipton was speaking with. He went to that station and watched Lipton like a hawk.

  Lipton, unnerved by his superior focusing so intently on him, prolonged his questioning of the visitor. “And how many times have you visited Sigmatál in the past six months?”

  “I dunno. Six, seven times?”

  “And what is the purpose of your visit?”

  “I already told you! What’s going on here? I have an appointment in, shit, forty minutes and you’re asking me the same questions over and over. I want to see your supervisor!”

  “Sir, can I help you?” Landry said, stepping in.

  “Are you in charge here?” the agitated traveler asked.

  “Yes, sir. Would you step over here with me and I’ll help get you on your way? We’re sorry for the delay. Please, right this way.”

  The man went with the sergeant and they took several steps away from the inspection area. They spoke for a minute, then shook hands and the traveler went his way. Hailey thought the handshake could’ve been the payoff for getting him through the checkpoint. She glanced at Lipton. He was also watching the sergeant and seemed to come to the same conclusion.

  Meanwhile, the other officers processed other travelers. Hailey dashed after the suspected rebel and planted a bug-tracker on him with an innocent bump on the shoulder. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, walking on.

  Back in the terminal, she inserted one ear bud and listened to that person while she watched the rest of the arrivals. Nothing else of note happened. Lipton spotted her and made his way to her location. “Did you see the sergeant take that one guy aside and let him go?”

  “Did you have reason to suspect that traveler of anything?”

  “He just seemed more tense than the others.”

  “Everyone was tense,” Hailey said.

  “It was the way he talked to me.”

  Hailey spotted Landry watching Lipton conversing with her. She hid her face from him. Landry, after all, didn’t know Hailey was a Wraith, and she wasn’t going to give him that information. He was still a suspect in her book. “Karl, point somewhere, like you’re giving me directions.” Hailey nodded at his fake helpfulness and thanked him in an obvious manner. “I’ll find you later,” she said as she left the terminal.

  She sat on a public bench across the street from the spaceport. Taxis picked up passengers and took them away to various parts of town. No one was doing or saying anything suspicious; she could see and hear all of them. But something caught her attention. A strong RF signal emanated from one man’s briefcase. It was stronger than anything a normal person would carry. Hailey dashed across the street and planted one of her bug-trackers on the man, then went inside to get some answers.

  “You, Private Snerl, do you officers allow anything to go through that might generate a strong radio frequency signal?”

  “Like what?” the woman asked.

  “Like remote controls, or receivers.”

  Private Snerl replied, “I didn’t see anything like that go through. We scan for all electronic device signals. Ma’am, who are you?”

  “Agent Ramirez, SWORD.” Hailey admitted her identity because the private showed no sign of guile. “Private, does anyone watch you while you work?”

  “No, ma’am. We each work our own line… to get the passengers through faster. They get impatient waiting in a long line like that.”

  Lipton joined Ramirez and Snerl. He looked at Hailey meaningfully. Hailey shook her head. “Private Snerl is not hiding anything.”

  “Agent, may I speak with you?”

  “No, Corporal. The Sergeant is suspicious of you talking to me. He doesn’t know who I am, but he knows I’m not
Millie McDonald. He thinks I’m the rebel and you’re the plant.”

  “Then he’s gonna send someone to tail you,” Lipton informed her.

  “Like he tailed you the other night,” Hailey replied.

  “He did? Why?”

  “Either he suspects you to be the plant, or he’s the plant and he’s worried about you catching him.”

  “But he pulled that suspicious man aside, then let him go, right in front of everything. That was pretty obvious.”

  “What constitutes suspicious?” Snerl asked.

  “Anything that looks like a passenger and an inspector are connected. Passing a note, talking extra quietly, inspecting one person for too long or too short,” Hailey listed. Hailey looked more closely at Private Snerl. “Did you notice anything like that?”

  “Well, I didn’t think ‘rebel’ when I saw this. I thought it was just a chauvinistic thing,” she replied.

  “What did you see?” Hailey asked.

  “There was a man in my line and he was asking someone in Bracken’s line to trade places with him. I assumed he thought he’d get through faster with a male inspector.”

  “Was he looking for name badges before he did that?”

  “I didn’t even notice him before that. I was trying to get people through while still being thorough,” Snerl explained.

  “Why would he get in the wrong line?” Hailey asked, “…unless he didn’t know his contact by sight and had to spot the name.”

  “Or,” Snerl put forward, “he got in the right line, but then it was the wrong line. Bracken and I switched stations about half-an-hour in.”

  “Why did you do that? Was it Bracken’s idea?”

  “No, actually, it was mine. The vent was blowing right on my neck and I asked if he’d switch with me. He had a jacket, you see, so I figured the cold air wouldn’t bother him as much.”

  “Did the passenger have only a briefcase?” Hailey asked.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know. I only glanced up when I heard the commotion.”