The Surrana Identity

by Michael Campling

  “Er, yes,” Rawlgeeb replied. “What…what’s the problem?”

  Ahead, a dark shape rose from the floor, clinging onto the wall for support. “Master, I thought you’d gone.”

  “No, not yet.” It took every ounce of Rawlgeeb’s courage to remain where he was as the shadowy figure hobbled closer.

  “Need help.” The Andelian’s voice was hoarse, every word an effort. “She killed them. Killed them all. I…I fell from the walkway. She left me for dead.”

  “I see.” Rawlgeeb licked his dry lips. “I assume you’re speaking of the Gloabon assassin.”

  The Andelian stopped moving. “Who else? But…master, is that really you? I can’t see, but your voice…it’s strange.”

  “Yes, it’s me. But carry on. Tell me where the assassin has gone.”

  “She must’ve taken your ship. It left, headed for Earth.” He stumbled forward, clutching at the wall. “Please, help me.”

  Rawlgeeb’s courage chose this moment to flee the scene, and his instincts told him to do the same. Raising his handset, he pressed the screen, but instead of a connection tone, he heard the click of a camera shutter. “Wrong button!” he gibbered. “Oh, for goodness sake!” He tried again, and this time, his call connected. “Ellen, get me out of here. Now.”

  “Sure thing,” Ellen replied.

  “Master?” The Andelian staggered closer, breaking into a shambling run.

  “Now!” Rawlgeeb cried, screwing his eyes tight shut. “Now! Now! Now!”

  “No need to shout,” Brent said, and when Rawlgeeb opened his eyes, he heaved a heartfelt sigh. He was back on The Wasp.

  “Are you okay?” Ellen asked. “You look dreadful.”

  “And you, Doctor Granger, are a sight for sore eyes,” Rawlgeeb replied. “I’m even glad to see you again, Brent. Moderately, I’ll admit, but pleased nonetheless.”

  “Go easy there, big fella,” Brent said. “No gushing.”

  Rawlgeeb brushed down his jumpsuit, regaining his composure. “Earth. She’s gone to Earth, in the company of another Gloabon, though I don’t know who that may be.”

  “You found all that out in just a few minutes?” Brent asked. “I’m impressed. Moderately, I’ll admit, but impressed nonetheless.”

  “Touché,” Rawlgeeb replied. “Yes, when you want something done, send a Gloabon, that’s what I always say.”

  “Is that right?” Brent shook his head. “I wonder if Jason records every word we say in here. Do you think he can give us a replay of our earlier conversation?”

  “Never mind about that. I’ve brought you the information, so let’s get going. She has a head start on us.” He rubbed his hands together then threw back his head and called out, “Captain Levinson, set a course for Earth.”

  There was no reply.

  “Levinson turned off the intercom,” Ellen said. “I think a certain person was getting on his nerves.”

  “Oh, really,” Rawlgeeb grumbled. “I’ll go and tell him myself.” He wore his most determined smile as he marched toward the cockpit door. He’d done it. He’d braved the horrors of Krisk, and not only had he lived to tell the tale, but he’d also brought back the key piece of information that they needed. I’ll show Brent how an investigation should be done, he thought. And raising his fist, he knocked on the cockpit door. They were on Surrana’s trail, and soon, their job would be done.

  CHAPTER 18

  Andel-Kreit Coalition Ship The Kreltonian Skull

  Undergoing Trial Run

  Destination: Unknown

  From the captain’s chair, Stanch glowered at the bridge’s main display screen. “Zeb, are you sure there’s a ship ahead? All I’m seeing is this…empty space.” He gestured toward the screen. “I like to see a good star field passing by as much as the next Andelian, but this is wearing thin.”

  “Quite,” Commander Xander said, arching her eyebrows as though she’d have liked to add an apposite comment of her own.

  “Sir, the craft is dead ahead,” Zeb replied. “In fact, I can say with some confidence that it is about to enter that dust cloud.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to shake us off,” Stanch said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. “They’re gambling on the dust affecting our sensors.”

  Dex let out a snort. “What use would our sensors be if they got clogged up with a little dust? That would make no sense at all.”

  “I concur,” Zeb put in. “Our long-range scanners have already penetrated the dust cloud, and we’ve picked up another vessel traveling on the same course. The second vessel is also employing stealth technology, but it is nowhere near as advanced.”

  Stanch turned in his seat. “What of it? We’re bound to see an increase in traffic in this area. We’re heading toward Earth.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Xander asked. “Since we keep turning the nav system off, we could be anywhere.”

  At the navigation console, Lieutenant Turm raised her head. “Captain, would you like me to confirm our position at this time?”

  “No, thank you,” Stanch replied. “That won’t be necessary.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Zeb, is it possible that the ship we’re tracking is heading directly to Earth?”

  “Hard to say, but if I may offer a hypothesis, it would appear that the cloaked craft is in pursuit of the stealth ship.”

  Stanch pursed his lips. “You seemed to pick up this second ship very easily. What kind of stealth tech is it using?”

  “It’s based on Gloabon tech but nothing like as effective,” Zeb replied. “Our database indicates that the ship is from Earth.”

  “That figures,” Xander admitted. “Our intelligence suggests that the Gloabons have been feeding second-rate tech to the humans for some time. The Gloabon Government makes a lot of high-minded speeches about spreading knowledge to other planets, but when it comes to the arms race, they’re keen to keep Earth one step behind.”

  Stanch ran his talons along his jawline. “So, we have a stealth ship from Earth heading for home, while an unknown craft with the most advanced cloaking we’ve ever seen, tails it from a distance.”

  “And that cloaked craft could be Gloabon,” Xander added. “Tread carefully, Captain. If those ships engage, there could be a diplomatic incident that would shake this sector of the galaxy.”

  “In that case, it’s our duty to prevent any such conflict taking place,” Stanch shot back. “Dex, can we track the Earth ship while keeping our nav systems online?”

  “Child’s play,” Dex replied. “I’m telling you, Captain, they didn’t get everything right when they upgraded the old girl, but The Skull’s sensor array is top notch. Conventional stealth tech doesn’t stand a chance when we’re around.”

  Xander cleared her throat. “Chief Engineer, please use gender-neutral language on the bridge at all times. This ship is a complex piece of machinery–the assignation of a male or female term does nothing to add further information and so is redundant.”

  “Right,” Dex said slowly. “That’s understood. I think.” He hesitated. “So, should we switch our tracking efforts to the Earth ship, or would that constitute some kind of species profiling?”

  “Follow their every move,” Stanch ordered. “Nav, I want all systems online. Helm, plot a course that’ll take us close to that Earth ship. Increase our speed.”

  “I’d advise the use of our own stealth mode,” Xander warned, “otherwise both ships will detect our presence very quickly.”

  “Let them,” Stanch snapped. “The Skull does not lurk in the shadows. It’s time for some good old-fashioned battleship diplomacy.”

  “Yes, well that’s worked so well in the past,” Xander said.

  Stanch threw her a sharp look, but Xander kept her expression neutral, so perhaps her remark had been made in good faith. “Commander, I want you on tactical. Maximum shields. Dex, I want you on weapons.”

  “Aye, sir.” Dex hurried to the weapons station.

  “I want all cann
ons ready to fire,” Stanch went on, “and prime torpedoes fore and–”

  Stanch was interrupted by someone clearing their throat theatrically, and he spun around, his eyes beetling from side to side. “Who was that? Goddammit! I’ll not be interrupted on my own bridge.”

  “Sorry, Captain,” someone said, and two figures stepped forward from the side of the room.

  “Nailsea! Cricklade! What the hell are you still doing here?” Stanch glared at them. “This is no time for cadets to be on the bridge.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Cricklade replied, casting her eyes to the deck. “It’s just that Commander Xander asked us to come in, and no one has told us to leave, so we stayed to…to observe the officers.”

  “And very interesting it has been, too,” Nailsea chipped in. “Quite an eye-opener.”

  “It’s a privilege to see you in action, Captain,” Cricklade said. “And I’m very sorry to interrupt. No disrespect intended, but there’s something I feel I must tell you.”

  Stanch exhaled loudly. “What is it, Cricklade? Make it snappy.”

  Cricklade nodded unhappily. “Sir, it’s just that, there aren’t any torpedoes.” She winced as if wounded by her own words. “You see, the cadets were roped in, that is, the cadets dutifully volunteered to help with the loading of supplies while we were in the space dock, and we happen to know that the torpedoes were left behind for…operational reasons.”

  “They didn’t fit,” Nailsea added. “The new torpedoes were built on Kreitian specs, but the tubes on The Skull were built to Andelian standards.”

  “We had a laugh about that in the docks, I can tell you,” Cricklade said, attempting a smile. “Somebody said, How many Kreitians does it take to change a torpedo? And I said, eight because…” She turned to Nailsea. “What was it?”

  Nailsea shook his head, but Cricklade plowed on. “Go on, you remember. It was definitely eight, wasn’t it? Or was it two hundred and seven? I can’t quite–”

  “Have you finished?” Stanch interrupted. “Because, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to running this ship.”

  Cricklade bowed her head. “Aye, Captain. Sorry, sir.”

  “Captain, I’ve just checked the system,” Dex said, “and Cricklade is correct. The torpedoes are on backorder, and they should be ready a week from today.”

  “A Kreitian week or an Andelian week?” Stanch demanded.

  “Andelian,” Dex replied, brightening. “And that’s one day sooner, so that’s good.” He paused, his smile withering beneath the heat of Stanch’s scowl. “Obviously, the fleet should’ve notified you, sir. I expect, since this was only a trial run, no one worried too much about armaments.”

  Stanch forced a patient expression. “I presume the cannons are operational, or are we sitting out here with nothing more than the shine on our boots?”

  “Sir, all cannons are warmed up and ready.” Dex ran his hand across the console. “I can’t get a lock on the cloaked vessel, but the Earth ship is firmly in our sights.”

  “Very good.” Stanch exchanged a glance with Xander. “Remember, our aim here is to prevent conflict. We will not engage unless necessary for our own defense.” He stood, straightening his tunic. “This is a delicate situation. Our presence should be enough to make that cloaked vessel think twice about attacking the Earth ship, but if it doesn’t, we’ll act decisively. Be ready.”

  A chorus of, “Aye, sir,” ran around the bridge, and Stanch allowed himself a quiet smile. If the cloaked ship was Gloabon, he’d know how to deal with them. He’d faced their kind before, and he’d stormed their massive space station with just a handful of officers. The Gloabons were good at long-term stratagems and intrigues, but swift military action left them reeling. And if the ship isn’t Gloabon? he asked himself. I’ll deal with them just the same. Torpedoes or no torpedoes, he was ready.

  CHAPTER 19

  Earth

  S-One ran lightly over the rooftops, the limp form of Surrana cradled in her arms. All around her, her companions surged forward. She did not have to tell them what to do; they seemed to know it as if it were in their bones. In seconds, they reached the buildings toward the northern perimeter of the compound, but she would not return to the enclosed courtyard where she’d arrived; she had no zinger to take her to freedom. No. This time, she must break out from the compound’s tall fences, relying on speed and ruthless efficiency.

  When they reached a suitable place, S-One halted at the building’s edge, and without hesitation, the others began to swarm down the side of the building, some using a drainpipe, some dropping from one window ledge to the next, others swinging gracefully from any fixture that came to hand. A pair of security guards dashed out from a doorway, but two Gloabons dropped onto them, and both guards were felled before they’d unholstered their weapons.

  In S-One’s arms, Surrana stirred, opening her eyes. She looked up, smiling dreamily, and said, “Set me down. I can make it from here.”

  S-One shook her head. “Not yet. You’re still a little weak. The drugs haven’t had time to leave your system. But if you can hold tight to me, it will make it easier.”

  “As you wish.” Her arms encircled S-One, her grip firm, and when she looked up, there was something in her eyes, some strange light that set a swarm of questions tumbling through S-One’s mind.

  “What am I?” she asked. “Why are we all so alike? Are we–”

  “You are my daughters,” Surrana said. “This isn’t the right time, but I think you know.”

  “You are my mother.”

  “Yes,” Surrana replied. “Now, climb down. We have much to do.”

  S-One glanced down to the ground. Her sisters were taking on the enemy, incapacitating all those who approached, securing the area so that she may climb down in safety.

  Taking care, she slipped over the building’s edge, grabbing hold of the drainpipe while her feet found a convenient ledge. Her mother held tight, and despite her weight, the climb was not difficult. Soon, she was on solid ground, and together, they set off, haring toward the fence. The rattle of automatic fire split the air above their heads, but no one was hit. Warning shots, S-One thought. They’ve been ordered to take us alive. The confinement of so many Gloabon assassins must have come at a considerable cost, and no doubt the humans wanted to protect their investment. The thought stirred a smoldering rage in her gut, spurring her on. There’ll be a reckoning for this, she told herself. The humans will pay for what they’ve done.

  They were nearly at the fence now, and the humans changed their tactics, a barrage of gunfire thudding into the ground all around them. S-One and her sisters dodged the clumsy bullets, but she sensed a greater threat. From above, the scent of scorched fuel told her that some sort of airborne support had been called in. If the aircraft were equipped with extractor beams, there was little she could do. They’re too late, she told herself. Some of the others were already at the fence, helping each other to climb over, scaling the fence in a swift choreography of lithe limbs and taut muscles. Sure hands plucked Surrana from her grip and passed her over the fence. S-One followed, dropping easily to the ground on the other side.

  Surrana stood waiting, steady on her own two feet. “From here, I run.”

  S-One nodded, and they set off together, sprinting over the open ground. On either side, the others powered forward, their legs a blur as the distance shrank beneath their feet. Another fence was scaled, and then they were free, dashing through quiet streets, changing direction. S-One could no longer detect the scent of engines, and she knew they’d shaken off any aerial pursuit. We’ve done it, she told herself. And as she ran, Surrana acknowledged her with a smile. A smile filled with pride.

  CHAPTER 20

  GIT Experimental Vessel The Wasp

  Earth

  Brent leaned one hand against the bulkhead and repeated his words, speaking as slowly and clearly as his clenched teeth would allow. “Open the docking bay doors, Jason. We’ve been back on Earth for fifteen minut
es, and we need to get off this ship. You let the pilots off, so how about we get to leave too?”

  “I really don’t think you should go just yet,” Jason replied. “Something happened outside. It’s not safe.”

  “Why do you say that?” Rawlgeeb asked.

  “I can’t tell you. But I think you should stay with me. Besides, we’re only just getting to know one another.”

  “Sure, it’s been just great, really it has,” Brent drawled, every syllable oozing old-fashioned, unleaded sarcasm. “Let’s do drinks next Tuesday, I think I can get you into the VIP lounge at the Ritzadello.”

  “Really?” Jason breathed. “That would be awesome.”

  Brent scratched his forehead. “Yeah, only on second thoughts, they might not let you in. For one thing, there’s a dress code, and for another, you’re a goddamned spaceship.”

  A brief burst of static hissed from the speakers. “We could find a way around that. Friends help each other out.”

  “Allow me,” Rawlgeeb said. “Jason, it seems to me that an intelligent entity like you could be projected via a remote system, am I right?”

  “Yes,” Jason admitted, “but they don’t let me out. There’s a firewall. A good one.”

  “Ah, but is it an intelligent firewall?” Rawlgeeb went on. “Is it a match for your imagination and creativity?”

  “No,” Jason replied. “No, it isn’t. I guess, if I really wanted to, I could find a route through it. I’m not supposed to break the rules, but it couldn’t hurt to investigate the parameters a little.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Brent said. “Rules are for other people, that’s Bolster’s first law.”

  “That said though,” Jason went on, “it wouldn’t be worth the risk unless I had a good reason to try.”

  “But that’s what I’m getting at,” Rawlgeeb cried triumphantly. “We’re giving you a reason because we’ll be waiting for you on the outside. You can project yourself into say, a handset, and we can take you out for some fun and educational visits. Libraries, museums, art galleries–”