The Surrana Identity

by Michael Campling

  Rawlgeeb looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could compile the real-time reports into a daily summary and amalgamate the cost center analysis into weekly breakdowns, then you might be able to deal with them more efficiently.”

  “No, Rawlgeeb. I don’t even want to hear words like daily and weekly. Just give me the edited highlights every couple of months, all right?”

  “You can’t be serious. That’s a recipe for anarchy. I can’t allow it.”

  “Yeah? Well, you don’t have a choice.” Brent thumped his desk. “Listen, Rawlgeeb, I hate to break your heart, but most of this quadruple-entry accounting is a waste of time.” He grabbed a color-coded sheet, crumpling it in his fist as he brandished it in the air. “We don’t have any pencil sharpeners, Rawlgeeb. We don’t even have any goddamned pencils!”

  Rawlgeeb studied him in silence for a moment, then without taking his eyes from Brent, he reached into his desk drawer, producing a slim rod, its glossy sides catching the light. “This is a stylus five thousand, the longest-lasting cybernetic pencil in the known galaxy. Its body is precision engineered from an alloy found only on Ungula, the third moon of Gloabon, and running through the center of this state-of-the-art pencil is a core crafted from the finest nanotubes of bio-responsive graphite. It writes smoothly and effortlessly on any surface, but although its tip will never snap, it does need honing from time to time, and for that, you need a special flecking sharpener!” Rawlgeeb brought his hand down hard, slamming the pencil into the desk where its tip sank into the wood a full two inches. His face fell, and he pulled his hand away sharply, leaving the gleaming pencil protruding from the desk, the stylus quivering gently like a well-aimed arrow. “My desk! Look what you made me do.”

  Brent looked from Rawlgeeb to the pencil and back again. “Okay, put me down for a couple of those, would you? I have a Times crossword at home, and I’m stuck on thirteen across: Obscure work one by that Parisian.”

  “It’s opaque,” Rawlgeeb said distractedly, working the pencil back and forth as he tugged it from the desk.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Rawlgeeb rolled his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Brent, but you’re wasting your time on word puzzles. The New Earth Times crossword is tough, even for an expert, and you…well, let’s be honest, you struggle to find the soft drinks section on a takeout menu. The stylus five thousand may be a superb writing implement, but a magic wand it most definitely is not.”

  Brent shrugged. “I got as much right as anybody else to do the crossword, and once I start one of those suckers, I always finish it. My record is five years, three months, and twenty-seven days, but I always get there in the end.”

  “Why do I bother?” Rawlgeeb muttered. “All right, you win. I can see that what you lack in foresight and good judgment, you more than make up for with thick-headed stubbornness, so I’ll make things simpler for you from now on. I’ve no idea how, but I’ll try to make the administration of this agency match your pitifully low expectations.”

  “Perfect.” Brent beamed. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? How about we get back to business? If I’m not mistaken, I hear someone coming up the stairs.” He cocked his ear. “Definitely a new client. I can tell from their determined stride. I’d say a woman, five foot three, blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a cute nose.”

  Rawlgeeb frowned. “Did you install a camera in the stairwell without telling me?”

  “No, of course not. I just have an ear for these things. Wait and see.”

  With bated breath they watched the door, listening as the sound of strident footsteps grew louder, more urgent.

  “I predict she’ll hesitate for a second,” Brent began, “and then–” But before he could finish his sentence, the door burst open, and a tall man in an oversize blue jumpsuit stormed over the threshold, his eyes ablaze.

  “Vince!” Rawlgeeb cried. “You’ve returned from The Gamulon.”

  But Vince was already advancing on Brent, tugging back the jumpsuit’s overlong sleeves to expose his fists. “Six weeks! Six weeks you left me to rot on that goddamned space station. Why the hell didn’t you do something about it?”

  Brent raised his hands. “What am I–your mom? We thought you’d come back when you were good and ready. Seemed like you kind of liked it up there.”

  “I had no authorization to be on the station, Brent. No ticket, no pass, no permit. Nothing. Can you imagine what the Gloabons thought about that? Can you imagine how they treated me?”

  “Ah, I see your point,” Rawlgeeb said. “I’m guessing they were less than welcoming.”

  “They put me in a lab for God’s sake,” Vince growled. “I’ve always had a high pain threshold, and now I know why.” Vince heaved a breath as though struggling to control his emotions. “It turns out I’ve been abducted before. I have some kind of implant in my head. Been there for years. I have no memory of being taken, but those bastards seemed to know all about it. They kept muttering something about an early model like I was an old automobile or something. And boy, did they get their kicks showing me off! I’ve never seen so many Gloabons in one place, and all of them poking and prodding at me.”

  Slowly, Brent went to Vince’s side and patted him on the shoulder. “There, there. It’s all over now, big fella. You’re back where you belong.”

  “They kept taking pictures of me, Brent. Selfies. They’d stand next to me and take selfies like I was some kind of ape.”

  “Technically,” Rawlgeeb began, but Brent shot him a look that made him change tack. “Er, perhaps I can get you a doughnut or something. That usually cheers you up.”

  But if Vince heard Rawlgeeb, he didn’t respond. He carried on speaking, a faraway look in his eyes. “After a while, they let me out, and someone offered me a bath. I thought that would be great, but oh man! It was not what I expected. Not what I expected at all.” He grimaced, his wild gaze settling on Rawlgeeb. “Why? Why would anyone do that?”

  “Sometimes, cultural differences are hard to explain,” Rawlgeeb offered. “Gloabons find a lot of Earth customs quite distressing. Bagpipes, for instance. And democracy. I mean, why bother? Pointless.”

  “Perhaps it would help,” Brent said soothingly, “if we try to get back to normal right away. So, Rawlgeeb, I’d like you to stop speaking now, and Vince, I’d like you to go and make some coffee, and try to keep your sleeves out of my mug, okay?”

  Vince blinked. “What? After everything I’ve been through, you want me to drag myself into the kitchen and fetch you a drink?”

  “Yes. But first, you’ll need to head out to the store. We’re out of coffee. And filters. And I think the sugar sort of dissolved into a sticky mess, so you’d better pick up a bag or two. Oh, and get some cream too.”

  “And mugs,” Rawlgeeb chipped in. “You threw the last one at the wall this morning.”

  “So I did. That was one of our more productive meetings.” Brent massaged the back of his neck. “Rawlgeeb may not be natural born fighter, but he certainly knows a thing or two about wrestling. His headlock is something to behold. I appreciated its finer points right up until the moment I blacked out.”

  “No,” Vince said, backing away. “I will not go running errands for you, Brent. Haven’t you been listening to a word I said?”

  “Sure I have,” Brent countered. “There was something about putting a plant on your head, then you shot a few selfies and took a bath. Sounds swell. Add a little mudpack and you’d have a spa day. And speaking of mud, have you tasted Rawlgeeb’s coffee? I thought your java brewing skills were bad, my friend, but Rawlgeeb puts something in it. Something weird. And whatever it is, it’s not good.”

  “Spirulina has a multitude of health benefits,” Rawlgeeb said. “If you humans took a little more time to understand your microbiome, you’d be a lot healthier. You know, there are more bacteria on Earth than all the plants and animals combined. Did it ever occur to you that you’ve evolved just to carry your microorganisms from place to place?”

  B
rent narrowed his eyes. “No. And I don’t care for that kind of talk in my office.”

  “You object to Neo-Darwinism?” Rawlgeeb asked. “On what grounds?”

  “I object to all horse shit theories,” Brent snapped. “You want to ask the big questions? Fine. Tell me why it’s always so damned hard for me to get a decent cup of coffee around here?”

  “Stop!” Vince shouted. “Who the hell is Neil Darwin and what’s he got to do with anything?” When no one answered, he added, “Come on, guys, give me a break. I’ve been through an ordeal. The Gloabons were not nice to me. Not for one second.”

  “Oh dear,” Rawlgeeb said. “You didn’t exactly follow protocol when you arrived on The Gamulon. And after all that trouble with the Andelians, tensions are probably still running a little high up there.”

  “Do you think?” Vince spluttered. “After I escaped from the bath, I ran like hell, trying to find a shuttle bay, but the guards grabbed me, then Admiral Squernshall had me thrown in a cell. He said the whole station was on some kind of lockdown. He told me their security status was vermilion. I don’t even know what that is.”

  Rawlgeeb sucked a sharp breath through his pointed teeth. “Ouch. Things are worse than I thought. That’s one step away from carmine, and only three levels away from a pre-emptive tactical strike.”

  “Against who?” Brent asked. “I ask simply for reasons of self-preservation, you understand.”

  “It depends where they think the threat is coming from,” Rawlgeeb replied. “In this case, I’d say that the Andel-Kreit Coalition would be the prime target, but…never mind.”

  “You’re kidding,” Brent said. “You can’t just leave us hanging like that.”

  Rawlgeeb hesitated. “In English, you have a phrase: Scorched Earth. On The Gamulon, we have a protocol with the same name. And before you ask, it’s not a metaphor; it’s an exit strategy.”

  “Hells teeth.” Brent fingered his jaw. “Vince, did you pick up any more useful information while you were up there? Any more little nuggets of doom and destruction, perhaps?”

  Vince shook his head firmly. “I was in a cell. Waiting. Waiting for you guys to spring me.”

  “For crying out loud,” Brent said. “How many times have I told you, Vince? When you’re in a jam, you have to make your own action. It’s no use just wishing for something to happen. That never works. Never.”

  A warbling buzz broke the silence, and all eyes went to Brent’s desk where his handset was rattling across the surface. “Well, almost never,” Brent added, dashing over to grab his handset. “Hello, Bolster Investigations.”

  “And associates,” Rawlgeeb hissed.

  Brent waved the interruption aside, his eyes going wide as the caller identified himself: “Mark Halbrook here. Gloabon Institute of Technology. If you’re available, I have a job for you.”

  “That’s great, Mr. Halbrook. We’d be very interested in carrying out any and all tasks that you may require. Let me check my diary.” He cast a meaningful look at Vince and Rawlgeeb, mouthing the letters G, I, T as he held his handset over his desk, rustling the papers before continuing his conversation. “Good news. Seeing as you’re one of our top-level, gold-rated, five-star clients, I’ve cleared our schedule, and we can be with you this very afternoon.”

  “I’ve sent a car, Brent. It’s outside your office.”

  “Even better.” Brent crossed to the window, peering down at the deep blue limousine parked in the street below. “Did you send Eddie? He’s a great driver, and what a sense of humor! Such a chatterbox.”

  A pause.

  “No, we had to let Eddie take some time off. After his encounter with you and your colleagues, he took a turn for the worse. His nerves. He’s still in the hospital.”

  “Too bad. Which hospital? I should visit.”

  “No, don’t do that,” Halbrook said. “It’s a private facility, and anyway, there’s a restraining order. Just get in the car, Brent. And bring Rawlgeeb. I need his perspective.”

  “No problem. How about Vince? Should I bring him along too?”

  Vince shook his head, mouthing the word No over and over, but Brent simply smiled, adding, “I think Vince would welcome the opportunity to work with you, Mr. Halbrook. It will be a great experience for him.”

  “Sure,” Halbrook said. “But, Brent, don’t bother trying to bullshit me, okay? I know when someone is rattling papers next to the phone for God’s sake. I wasn’t born yesterday. And anyhow, I’ve had someone keeping an eye on your agency for a while. Your schedule is emptier than a politician’s promise.”

  Brent bit back the phrase, That’s rich coming from you, and forced his lips into a fixed grin. “Ha, ha, Mr. Halbrook, I do enjoy your witty banter, but I’m sure you appreciate that not all our clients visit in person. We have a considerable enterprise in the virtual world of dark cyberspace, but let’s get this show on the road. We’ll head out to the car in a moment, just as soon as I can get Vince out of his jumpsuit.”

  “Okay,” Halbrook replied, stretching the word to its limits.

  “No, I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t implying–”

  “Forget about it,” Halbrook interrupted. “Brent, there are many reasons to judge you, but your sexual orientation isn’t one of them.”

  “Sure, but–”

  “Believe me,” Halbrook went on, “we have a set of extremely comprehensive policies on equality here at GIT. We tolerate pretty much everything except for intolerance.”

  Brent’s shoulders slumped as he searched in vain for his next words, knowing that any further attempt at an explanation would almost certainly land him in hot water. “Well, that’s good to hear, Mr. Halbrook. I’m all for equality.”

  “I’ll see you shortly, Brent. The driver will take you directly to the executive hub.”

  “Right. Thanks.” But Mark Halbrook had already terminated the call, so Brent laid his handset on the desk.

  “They have a job for us at GIT?” Rawlgeeb asked, his eyes bright.

  Brent nodded. “Looks that way. There’s a car waiting to take us there.” He turned to Vince, who was staring at him with a mixture of alarm and embarrassment. “What? You know what I meant.” He gestured at Vince’s outfit. “You can’t go to a business meeting like that. It isn’t Halloween for months.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? The Gloabons took all my clothes when I changed for the bath, and when I saw that stinking water, I left everything behind. They gave me this damned suit when they threw me in the cell.”

  “Hang on,” Rawlgeeb said. “Why did they send you home? You never told us.”

  Vince pursed his lips. “How the hell would I know? Maybe they just got sick of me hanging around. I don’t know, and anyhow, it’s none of your business.”

  “I was just asking,” Rawlgeeb said. “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand.” He tilted his head to one side and smiled, but when he bared his pointed teeth, the overall effect was more menacing than sympathetic. “It seems a little strange that they’d just let you go, that’s all. But as you say, whatever happened on The Gamulon, it’s not my business.”

  “I’m glad we got that straightened out,” Brent said, grabbing a trench coat from the hat rack and tossing it toward Vince. “Here, wear Rawlgeeb’s coat for now. We’ll have the driver stop by a store to pick you something up on the way. If we take Milky Way Avenue, we can call in at a branch of Huge and Stupid.”

  “Ha, ha,” Vince said as he struggled to force the jumpsuit’s baggy sleeves into the coat. “It would be simpler if we just call in at my apartment instead.”

  “Yes, but this way, we can make you look like an actual investigator,” Brent replied. “It’s about time you had some new duds, and with what we’ll be earning from GIT, you’ll be able to afford it.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Rawlgeeb warned. “We haven’t landed the job yet. We don’t even know what it is.” His face fell as if at a sudden thought. “What if it’s something illegal or unethical?”


  “Then we’ll be able to charge a premium,” Brent said. “Just think of all that money, Rawlgeeb. Think of the spreadsheets.”

  Rawlgeeb nodded uncertainly. “I suppose needs must when the devil drives.”

  “You got it,” Brent said. “And today, Old Nick is behind the wheel of a luxury limousine.”

  “This Nick character has to be better than Eddie,” Vince chipped in. “That guy didn’t know where to draw the line.”

  Brent opened the door, gesturing toward the hallway with a flourish. “This way, gentlemen. Mr. Halbrook is waiting for us, and I for one am very keen to renew my acquaintance with his checkbook.”

  “The game is afoot,” Rawlgeeb cried, striding through the door, and they heard him stomping down the stairs.

  Vince shared a look with Brent. “Don’t ask?” Vince said.

  “Don’t ask,” Brent confirmed, then together, they set off after Rawlgeeb.

  CHAPTER 3

  Andel-Kreit Coalition Minesweeper The Giblet

  The Asteroid Belt

  Standing outside the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Dex punched the entry pad to open the door. A soft tone sounded, but the door remained stubbornly shut. Not again, Dex thought, reaching for the multi-tool in his pocket. But as he selected the screwdriver blade, the door juddered open with the whirring drone of reluctant motors, and Dex eyed it suspiciously before stepping through.

  The cramped bridge was dimly lit, and the only other occupant, Captain Drumph, scarcely looked up as Dex made his way to his station.

  “Get that coupling fixed?” Drumph demanded, scratching at his armpit as he pored over the displays on his semicircular console. “I damned well hope so. We’re behind on our schedule.”

  “The coupling wasn’t the problem, sir,” Dex replied smartly. “The primary servos in the manipulator arm were out of sync. Both servos were badly damaged, so I replaced them.”