The Surrana Identity

by Michael Campling

  “I quite agree,” Rawlgeeb put in. “In my opinion, anyone who uses the word showcase as a verb ought to be…” He paused to grin around the group. “Institutionalized.”

  “What have I told you about making jokes, Rawlgeeb?” Brent asked. “It’s not in your skillset, and that probably isn’t going to change any time soon. Plus, I resent the implication that I’m an easy mark for those online training courses. I am not, and anyway, I always get the special discounted price of six hundred and ninety-seven credits, and that guarantees membership for life. So I call that good value. Worth every cent.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Vince patted Rawlgeeb’s arm. “Your jokes are getting better. Your timing was a little off, but the content was sound. I got it. I didn’t laugh, but I got it.”

  Halbrook shifted in his seat. “Gentlemen, our business today is no laughing matter, believe me.” He scanned their faces, waiting for silence.

  “Please, continue,” Rawlgeeb said, sitting up straight.

  “Okay, I’m sure you remember the Gloabon assassin, Surrana.”

  Brent nodded. “Big fella. Bushy beard. Red suit.” He raised his finger in the air. “Wait! Got it. With you now. Green dame. Nasty piece of work. Tried to kill me.” He smiled triumphantly. “I never forget a name. It’s a knack. So, what’s going on with her? Whose feathers has she been rustling this time? Did she bump off anyone I might know?”

  Halbrook looked very much as though he’d like to slap Brent across the jaw, but he composed himself before going on. “Surrana has been staying with us here at GIT, and for her own safety, she was restricted to one of our maximum security facilities.”

  “You have her locked up while you try to figure out what makes her tick,” Brent stated.

  “I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Halbrook replied. “Surrana received the best medical care, and we offered her a range of opportunities in the hope that she’d work with us in a spirit of mutual respect and cooperation.”

  “Oh dear,” Rawlgeeb intoned. “That could never work. The Guild of Assassins is a fanatical order at the best of times. Surrana would do anything rather than give herself over to you. She’d never allow herself to be bound to a human in that way.”

  “Yes, we got that impression,” Halbrook replied. “We assumed that a contract was a contract, but apparently, we didn’t appreciate the subtleties of her profession.”

  Rawlgeeb shook his head slowly. “They would be hard for a human to grasp. And I take it that your friends in the Gloabon Government don’t know that Surrana is here.”

  “No one knows,” Halbrook stated. “No one outside of GIT, anyway. We couldn’t take that risk. And unfortunately, she left us somewhat precipitously.”

  “She escaped,” Rawlgeeb said.

  “Yes. She hijacked a shuttle, and that leaves us with something of a problem.”

  “You couldn’t call on the feds to bail you out,” Brent offered. “And that’s why we’re here. You want us to find her.”

  Halbrook looked Brent in the eye. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Brent, and quite honestly, that comes as a pleasant surprise.”

  “It’s my years of experience in the field,” Brent said smoothly. “I know a bear trap when I see one, and if I agreed to go chasing after an enraged assassin, even though I’ve only just got her off my back, then I’d deserve everything I got, namely a painful death. So I can tell you right now, Mr. Halbrook, that our answer is no. I’m sorry and all, because I’d bet this would’ve been one hell of a high-paying job, but there’s no way we can take it.”

  “What do you have to say, Rawlgeeb?” Halbrook asked. “You can see why we have to find her, don’t you?”

  Rawlgeeb pursed his lips. “Mark, I hate to say this, really I do, because the agency needs the money, but on this occasion, Brent is right. We got away from Surrana before, but next time, we won’t be so fortunate.” He bowed his head. “And there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “You really won’t have to go looking for Surrana, Mark. You’ve made her into an enemy, and one day soon, she’ll come looking for you. My advice is to prepare for the worst. Treble your security. Consider starting life afresh on another planet, with a new identity. But first, I recommend that you put your affairs in order.”

  Halbrook tugged at his shirt collar. “Really, Rawlgeeb, you’re being hysterical. I expected better of you.”

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t help you,” Rawlgeeb said primly. “It would be a suicide mission for each and every one of us. And Surrana wouldn’t stop with just killing us. She’d go after our nearest and dearest. Even Algernon.”

  “Who?” Halbrook asked, but Brent waved the question aside.

  “Mr. Halbrook, Mark, if there’s anything else you’d like us to do,” Brent said, “anything at all, we’d be honored to help, really we would. Just name it.”

  “Forget it,” Halbrook replied. “It’s this job or nothing. In fact, if you insist on letting me down, you’ll never work for GIT again, and I have a lot of powerful friends in this town. Word gets around. You’ll be finished, Bolster.”

  Brent stood, pushing his chair back slowly and deliberately so that it scraped across the polished wood flooring. “We’ll be leaving now. Good luck with Surrana, and for the record, I’m certain that Rawlgeeb is right–she’ll come back here soon enough. If you’re smart, you’ll set up some kind of trap and let her waltz right into it.”

  “You fool,” Halbrook said. “I was ready to offer you a fortune, plus a state-of-the-art ship. Anything you wanted, you could’ve had. But no, you have to play the big man and walk away to prove a point.” He shook his head. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “A ship?” Vince asked. “What kind of ship?”

  Brent stared at Vince. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t want to know. Trust me. No good will come of it.”

  “Listen, I should get a say in this,” Vince protested. “Does my opinion count for nothing around here?”

  “Frankly, that sounds about right,” Brent replied. “Let’s go. And Vince, since we didn’t take the job, you’ll need to pay me back for those clothes you’re wearing. I’m not made of polyester, you know.”

  Vince slammed the table with the flat of his hand. “Dammit, Brent! Listen to me. If we had a ship, a really good ship, it would make all the difference.” He turned to Halbrook. “This ship would have stealth capabilities, right? And it would be able to track Surrana’s shuttle?”

  “Of course. The ship I have in mind has the finest tech in the galaxy. It’s equipped with adaptive stealth technology that’s so advanced, we lose the damned thing every other week.”

  “Try looking down the back of the sofa,” Brent sneered. “That’s where most things wind up.” He stepped close to Vince and tugged at his shoulder. “Come on. You’re wasting the man’s time. And mine.”

  But Vince remained in his seat. “Mr. Halbrook only wants us to locate Surrana. He didn’t say anything about capturing her. All we have to do is find her, and if we’re in the right kind of ship, she’ll never know it was us. That’s right, isn’t it, Rawlgeeb?”

  Rawlgeeb waggled his hand in the air. “In theory, yes, but don’t underestimate Surrana. She could easily find out that we helped in her capture, and then the cat would be out of the canal.”

  “I think you mean bag,” Vince said helpfully.

  Rawlgeeb frowned. “Why would a bag be in a canal? Oh, unless the cat is inside it. Is that it?”

  “Let’s get back to this ship,” Vince insisted. “It would have to be combat-ready. A passenger craft wouldn’t be up to the job.”

  “We call it The Wasp. It’s small, very fast, it handles like a racing car, and it’s armed up to the eyeballs.” Halbrook smiled. “You might say it has a sting in its tail.”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather you didn’t,” Brent drawled. “If this ship is so great, why don’t you send a bunch of your Special Ops guys to track her down? After all, they nabbed her once, they co
uld do it again.”

  Halbrook’s expression froze. “Can’t be done. Not this time.”

  Rawlgeeb drummed his fingers on the table. “Mark, does the board of GIT know about Surrana’s escape? Do they even know she was here?”

  “No,” Halbrook replied, the color rising to his cheeks. “I may have implied that Surrana’s stay with us was an official project, but in fact, the situation is somewhat different.”

  For a moment, no one spoke, then Halbrook seemed to crumble, his shoulders drooping, his lower lip wobbling. “Ten million credits,” he called out. “That’s my offer. Ten million, and afterward, I’ll pay you a retainer even if we don’t use you ever again. You’ll be rich. You’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

  Brent’s mouth was suddenly dry. “That’s…over three million apiece. That’s crazy.”

  “Ten million each,” Halbrook blurted. “Paid into any bank account in the world.”

  “Seriously?” Brent found himself sitting down. He gripped the edge of the table to stop the room from spinning. “How much in advance? We’d need at least half.”

  Halbrook pulled a handset from his pocket. “Consider it done. And consider yourself hired. I’ll need a thumbprint to authorize the transfer.” He held out the handset and Brent took it from him, squinting at the screen.

  “This looks like a contract,” Brent said. “Rawlgeeb, you’d better look it over.” He passed the handset to Rawlgeeb who flicked through several screens full of closely typed text, humming to himself.

  “It’s fine,” Rawlgeeb announced, “but are we sure we want to do this? It’s not too late to walk away.”

  “It kind of is,” Brent replied, his voice faint. “We can’t not do this, can we?”

  “No, I mean, yes,” Rawlgeeb replied. “You see, there’s another bugbear of mine–double negatives. They’re really far too common. It’s no wonder humans haven’t evolved properly. You spend all your time wallowing in the confusion caused by your imprecise languages.”

  “For God’s sake, plant your thumb on the screen,” Brent snapped. “Is that precise enough for you?”

  Rawlgeeb did as he was told, his expression solemn apart from the strange mixture of fear and excitement in his eyes. He passed the handset to Vince, who licked his lips before placing his thumb carefully on the screen.

  “Brent, here you go.”

  Brent looked down at the proffered device. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve changed my mind. You two could always go without me. You keep harping on about wanting more responsibility.” He savored the horrified looks on their faces for a full second before snatching up the handset. “Rawlgeeb, put in an order for a whole crate of those fancy pencils, and don’t hold back on the sharpeners. We’re in the big league now.” And with that, he pressed his thumb against the screen.

  CHAPTER 6

  Andel-Kreit Coalition Space Station - Drammadon Four

  The Asteroid Belt

  Dex hurried along the space station’s perimeter corridor with Zeb keeping pace at his side. Captain Stanch marched ahead, his back straight, acknowledging everyone he passed with a businesslike nod.

  “What do you think the mission will be?” Zeb whispered to Dex. “Something here on the station? An engineering job?”

  “Could be,” Dex replied quietly, “but I think it’s something bigger than that. I’ve never seen the Captain in such high spirits. Look at him. Anyone would think he owns the place.”

  Zeb nodded thoughtfully. “Command of a space station would be a promotion.”

  “No. Stanch would never settle for that. He’s an explorer, a voyager.”

  “Interesting,” Zeb replied. “And do you feel the same way?”

  “Definitely. You know, the worst thing about being stuck on The Giblet wasn’t the routine maintenance. It wasn’t even Drumph’s childish temper tantrums. It was the fact that the route was always mapped out in advance. Back and forth, back and forth, but we never really went anywhere.” He grimaced. “That’s no good for me. I need to see a star field rushing toward me. I need fresh vistas unfolding in front of my eyes as we drop out of warp. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Not really,” Zeb admitted. “I sense that my emotion modules are still collating data, but for the time being, I don’t really care where I serve. So long as…you know.”

  Dex punched him affectionately on the arm. “We’ll stay together, that’s for sure. Stick with me, son, and I’ll show you the galaxy.”

  Zeb started to reply, but Dex silenced him with a look. Ahead, Stanch had halted beside a set of double doors, and he beckoned them forward. “Come along,” he called out. “You need to see this.”

  Dex and Zeb jogged to meet him. “Ready, Captain,” Dex said, standing to attention, but he frowned when he saw the way that Stanch was looking at him.

  “Lieutenant Commander, your uniform isn’t up to your usual standard,” Stanch commented. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

  “Aye, Captain. The facilities on The Giblet were sadly lacking, but that’s no excuse, I know. I’ll visit the quartermaster on the station at the first opportunity.”

  “Oh, I think we can do better than that,” Stanch said, and smiling, he placed his hand against the door’s touch panel. With barely a whisper, the wide doors whisked open, revealing a brightly lit gantry. “Step inside, gentlemen.”

  With bated breath, they walked through the doorway, and Dex’s heart soared. The gantry’s broad windows gave a stunning view across a vast space dock, and there, nestling among a tracery of cranes and cables, the sweeping curves of a white ship were picked out by arrays of dazzling floodlights. There was no mistaking the graceful lines of the ship, but Dex’s gaze went automatically to the name emblazoned across its hull. “It can’t be,” he whispered, reaching out to grasp the rail on the gantry’s wall. But there was no denying the evidence of his eyes.

  “The Kreltonian Skull!” Stanch boomed. “Newly refitted, upgraded, and almost ready to be put through its paces.”

  Dex couldn’t take his eyes from the ship. “But, the quarantine period can’t be over. The biohazard–”

  “Has been dealt with,” Stanch said. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy, but I’ve been pushing for this night and day.”

  “We heard you’d been promoted to captain and awarded a Distinguished Combat Star,” Dex said, “but this…I don’t see how it could be done.”

  Stanch smirked. “After I took control of the Gloabon space station, the Andel-Kreit High Command decided I was the hero of the piece. Personally, I think they just wanted to rub the Gloabons’ noses in the dirt, but I decided to make the most of it. It’s not every day you get a chance to make your mark in the coalition, but I had Lord Pelligrew’s ear, and I convinced him that what we needed was a show of strength. And what better way to restore our pride than to relaunch The Skull? Especially, if we could do it in record time.”

  “Captain, this is wonderful news,” Zeb said carefully, “and I’m sure that the biohazard has been removed, but the interplanetary rules on quarantine are not open to interpretation. The ship cannot be used so soon.”

  “Once the purging cycle had completed, we simply jettisoned the contaminated parts of the ship,” Stanch said. “It was all done remotely. A fleet of maintenance drones cut away the whole of level B three. It’s still out there, sealed off and secured. It will be recovered eventually, but in the meantime, we got to work on the rest of the ship. Level B three has been replaced, the engines have been upgraded, and the bridge has been reconfigured. The whole ship has been refitted from stem to stern.”

  Dex clenched his jaw. “My engines. What have they done to my engines?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Stanch replied. “But first, we need to get you a new uniform. I can’t have my Chief Engineer taking up his post in those old rags.”

  “Sir,” Dex began, his voice faint, “the High Command won’t want me on The Skull. I’m still in the doghouse.”

  “N
ot anymore,” Stanch stated. “They gave me my pick of the crew, and I said that there was only one Andelian I’d consider.”

  “Who?”

  Stanch laughed. “You, you dolt. Oh, they tried to fob me off with some genius from the academy, but I told them I needed someone special. You see, I didn’t just want someone who knows how the ship works, I wanted someone who loves every nut, bolt, and rivet of her. And you’re the only one in the fleet who fits the bill, so the job’s yours, Lieutenant Commander. Chief Engineer.”

  Zeb slapped Dex on the back. “Congratulations! You’re going back where you belong.”

  “And I hope you’ll be happy to serve as my science officer,” Stanch went on, looking Zeb in the eye. “I know you’ve had some glitches in the past, but we’re only just starting to see what a cybonic lifeform is capable of. I’m sure you can achieve great things, Zeb, and I want to be there to see it.”

  Zeb stood to attention. “Sir, I shall be honored to serve alongside you.”

  “That’s settled then.” Stanch clapped his hands together. “I’ll give you an hour to get ready, then I’ll meet you in departure bay thirteen. Once we’re aboard, you’ll have a few hours to familiarize yourself with the new systems, and then we’ll take her out for a test run. I fancy a jog out to Mars and back. What do you say?”

  “I say that sounds wonderful,” Dex replied, and as Stanch led them from the gantry, Dex stole a glance back through the window. Don’t worry, my beauty, he thought. I’ll be with you soon. I’m coming home.

  CHAPTER 7

  Kreitian Salvage Vessel The Twang

  En Route - Destination: Not Logged.

  “Move, damn you!” Leaning over the salvaged satellite and using only her left arm, the Gloabon female refastened the wrench to the corroded nut and pushed hard, putting her weight behind it. The nut didn’t budge, but she wasn’t about to give up. She ground her teeth together, a roar building in her throat, but the wrench slipped free, slamming against the satellite’s metal panel, and she almost overbalanced. Instinctively, she put out her right hand to save herself, and a wave of pain shot from her fingers to her shoulder. “Flek! Flek! Flek!”