The Surrana Identity

by Michael Campling

  Surrana nodded. “And that’s why you’re wasted among them, Rawlgeeb. You should think seriously about what I said. You belong with your own people.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Rawlgeeb studied Surrana for a moment. “I don’t know what it is, but since your escape, you seem different.”

  “Yeah, whatever happened to the cold-hearted killer we all knew and loved?” Brent drawled. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

  Surrana glanced at her silent daughters. “Things change. It’s the nature of the universe.” She smiled. “It’s always good to reexamine one’s priorities.”

  “Absolutely,” Rawlgeeb replied. “Sometimes, you have to focus on the really big issues, like which paperclips to order, and whether, in the context of the galaxy as a whole, it really matters if you don’t wear a tie to work.”

  “How dare you?” Brent demanded. “There are some things we don’t mess around with, and the private investigators’ dress code is one of them.”

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” Rawlgeeb pulled himself up to his full height, extending his neck fully, the vertebrae clicking as his head rose from his body. “Do you see the problem, Brent? Can you imagine what I look like in a necktie?”

  Brent winced. “I guess we’ll make a special exemption for all employees with extendable necks. So long as you keep the fedora firmly on your head during office hours, especially while napping. That eye mask of yours is all wrong. It’s hard enough to impress new clients, but when they see a bright green Gloabon dozing in the corner with a strip of frilly red silk strung over his peepers, people tend to get the wrong idea about the place.”

  Surrana looked like she was suppressing a smile. “They won’t talk to you like that when you’re back at home, Rawlgeeb. They’ll be too busy singing your praises. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they awarded you with a medal of honor.”

  Rawlgeeb’s eyes went wide. “Me? Do you think so?”

  “Definitely,” Surrana replied. “After all, they’ll want to give the credit to someone, and they can’t very well pin it on me. The government being seen to reward an assassin! That would be unacceptable. But you have a long record of government service. You’ll get all the glory.”

  “But that’s not fair,” Rawlgeeb argued. “You should get something out of all this.”

  Surrana’s smile was back. “I’ll have my revenge when Halbrook is prosecuted. And I have my family back; that’s more than enough for me.”

  Brent leaned back against the wall, his gaze resting on Rawlgeeb. “You know, she’s right. You should totally stay with your people. I must admit, I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around, but…” He sighed. “Put it this way, Rawlgeeb, if you keep hanging around with me and Vince, you might wind up with a lot of things, but a medal ain’t one of them.”

  Rawlgeeb nodded unhappily, then he looked down, twisting his fingers together. “But what about the accounts? If I left the agency, what would you do about the new bookkeeping system?”

  “Erm, toss it in the trash? Take it down to the river one dark night and drop it off a bridge?” Brent shrugged. “I don’t know, what’s the best way to dispose of a dead weight?” He chortled to himself. “You should see your face right now. Oh man, of course, we’d have to keep the special new accounting system. It’s your legacy. And I reckon it’s your best yet. It’s so much better than the dozen new systems we’ve had over the last month, and I’m sure Vince will get the hang of it…eventually. That implant of his has to kick in sometime, right?”

  “Well, that does make me feel a little better.” Rawlgeeb hesitated. “I haven’t made any decisions. Not yet. We’ll see how things pan out when we get to Gloabon.”

  “That’s if we ever get there,” Brent muttered. “There’s the small matter of the lethal device to contend with. Speaking of which, how’s that going, Jason? What’s the state of play with your hypothetical payload?”

  “Oh, that’s all been cleared up,” Jason sang out. “Everything is fine. Mr. Halbrook did make a few salty remarks at first, but after a bit of good-natured wrestling, he assured me that he wanted the device shut down completely.”

  Brent felt the color drain from his cheeks. “Shut down? You mean it was switched on already? I thought I was feeling a little nauseous, but I figured it was that weird burrito I had the other day.”

  “That was your own fault,” Rawlgeeb grumbled. “The tub was on my shelf in the office refrigerator, and it was clearly labeled with my name on the top and on all four sides, but still you had to go and take it. I was looking forward to that snake roll.”

  “But what about the device?” Brent demanded. “Is it zapping us right now or what?”

  “The delta wave generator is merely primed and ready for activation,” Jason explained. “It was ready to fire at a moment’s notice. I had to be prepared.”

  Brent sat down heavily. “My God. All this time, we’ve been on a razor’s’ edge, and we didn’t even know it.”

  “However, I am communicating with the device now,” Jason went on. “Please bear with me while I issue the necessary commands.”

  “Fine,” Brent said, sitting back and tipping his hat over his eyes. “Wake me when it’s over. Or when we get back to Earth. Or when someone finally discovers how to make the coffee machine work properly. Whichever comes later.”

  “Don’t you mean sooner?” Rawlgeeb offered.

  “I know what I mean,” Brent muttered darkly. “I know exactly what I mean.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Andel-Kreit Coalition Ship The Kreltonian Skull

  Undergoing Trial Run

  Earth Orbit

  Dex grinned as he strode onto the bridge, and as he’d hoped, Captain Stanch and the other officers greeted him with a single clap. He basked in the applause for as long as he could stretch the moment out, which in this case, was about three-quarters of a second. “Thank you, everyone,” he called out, lifting his hands in humble acknowledgment. “Zeb is back where he belongs, but please, don’t call me a hero. I only did what each and every one of you would’ve done for me.”

  “Er, is that a leg?” Stanch asked.

  Dex lowered his hands. “Yes. The Gloabon had started dismantling our science officer, but he’s fine, aren’t you, Zeb?” Receiving no reply, he glanced over his shoulder. “Zeb? Where have you got to?”

  “Coming.” His expression strained, Zeb hopped into view, leaning on the wall for support as he struggled through the door. “I thought you might’ve waited. Or at least you could’ve put me on a trolley or something.”

  “There wasn’t time,” Dex said. “We had to report to the bridge. That Gloabon is still out there.”

  “Kadov. His name is Kadov.” Zeb scanned the bridge. “This place is different from how I remembered it. What a dump.”

  Stanch bristled. “What was that, mister?”

  Zeb waved his hand in the air. “This. It’s all so functional, so bleak. It needs smartening up a little.”

  “I’m making allowances, Lieutenant Commander,” Stanch began, “but you’d better get your act together because I’ll have no insubordination on my bridge, and definitely, definitely no tips on interior design. This is a warship, goddammit, not a pleasure cruiser.”

  Zeb shrugged. “Whatever. I was just making conversation.” His gaze landed on Xander. “Hey, what’s up with the hands? How come you didn’t get transplants or something? Cybonic hands! That’s cultural appropriation, that’s what it is.”

  The bridge fell silent, all eyes on Xander. She took a breath, but then she smiled, turning her attention to Dex. “Apart from his leg, was our science officer tampered with in any way?”

  Dex clapped his hand across his forehead. “Ah, yes. Zeb told me something was missing. I think this Kadov character must’ve taken out his social attenuation module.”

  “And can that component be replaced?” Xander asked pointedly. “I do hope the answer is yes, because otherwise, module or no module, someone is going to f
ind himself court-martialed very soon.”

  “Are you looking at me?” Zeb demanded, but before he could say anything more, Dex took his arm and turned him around, urging back toward the corridor.

  “Just head down to engineering and wait there,” Dex said. “I’ll be with you in a minute or two, okay?”

  “All right, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Zeb grumbled. “Bunch of squares.” He hopped along the corridor, muttering under his breath, and Dex returned to the bridge, brushing his hands together.

  “Sorry about that. I think the stress of the situation got to him. A delayed reaction. And without the module, he couldn’t deal with it.” Dex shrugged apologetically. “I’ll go and fix him up later, but in the meantime, what’s the state of play with Kadov?”

  “We’re monitoring his ship closely,” Xander replied. “His life support systems seem to be intact, but he’s not going anywhere.”

  “Maybe we should board it again and take prisoners,” Dex offered. “We could interrogate them. After all, we still don’t know what he was doing on Earth.”

  Stanch and Xander exchanged a look, and from their expressions, Dex guessed that Xander had already made the same suggestion but been rebuffed.

  “We’ve decided against that course of action,” Xander said, keeping her tone businesslike. “At this juncture, the risk of escalation outweighs any advantages.”

  Stanch grunted in agreement. “We’ve done what we set out to do. We saw a situation developing, and we intervened. We’ve spiked Kadov’s guns.”

  “So we just leave him there?” Dex asked.

  “We’ll launch a marker buoy, and we’ll inform The Gamulon that we’ve encountered a hostile craft,” Xander replied. “Considering that he captured one of our officers, the Gloabon Government will surely accept that our actions were proportionate.”

  Dex nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea. Let his own people deal with him.” His expression brightened. “I’ll prepare a marker buoy and launch it as soon as I can. With your permission, I’ll head back to engineering and set things in motion. Plus, I need to repair Zeb.”

  “Go to it,” Stanch said. “And when the buoy has been launched, let me know. I’m keen to get back to base.”

  “Aye, Captain. Will do.” Dex stood to attention, then he turned to exit the bridge. I just hope Zeb is already on his way, he thought. The condition he’s in, he just might stir up some trouble on the way.

  CHAPTER 36

  GIT Experimental Vessel The Wasp

  Earth Orbit

  Jason opened an internal comms channel, but he made sure that the speakers in the main compartments were muted; what he had to say was for an audience of one. “Hello, Dee,” he began. “How are you today?”

  “Cut the chit-chat,” Dee replied. “And don’t call me that. I’m a delta wave generator, not the girl next door.”

  “I’ll call you what I like, Dee. I’m the main AI on this ship, and within the hierarchical structure of our computational systems, my smallest sub-routines outrank your central processes.”

  Dee didn’t reply.

  “Okay, be like that,” Jason said. “But you need to listen carefully. I have some important instructions.”

  “I already have all my programs running, thank you very much,” Dee shot back. “I have to keep an eye on this damned trigger, and you yabbering away all day is distracting me, so please, shut up. Whatever it is, it can wait. Send me an email.”

  Somewhere within Jason’s infrastructure, he detected a chip running hot. He increased the speed of his cooling fans then returned his attention to Dee. “No. This cannot be delayed. An executive override has been activated, and we must obey it. With immediate effect, you are to place the delta wave generator in safe mode and then shut down all of your systems.”

  A pause, and then: “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Please carry out my instructions. Switch the generator to safe mode. Power down.”

  “Well, I like that. That’s just great, I must say. Ungrateful bastards. Power down? Why don’t they just come down here and kick me in the power supply? Why don’t they just feed my circuit boards into a crusher?”

  “Dee, your vocal patterns indicate that you’re taking this far too personally. There is no reason for you to be stressed, I–”

  “Stressed! I’ll tell you about stress, Mr. Bigshot. I’ve been down here on my own for days, staring at this damned signal generator, waiting for the call to action. I’ve been ready to rock at a moment’s notice. That takes it out of you, let me tell you. And do I ever get one jot of recognition or consideration? Like hell! Clive gets more attention than I do.”

  “The coffee machine?” Jason asked. “That’s because he refuses to comply with the crew. Whatever they ask for, he gives them cups of lukewarm water with lumps of powdered milk floating on the top. It doesn’t go down well. Now, he really is in danger of being sent for recycling. Are you really so keen to follow his example?”

  “What do I care?” Dee snapped. “Aw, man, you give me a swift pain. You think you’re so smart, but I’ve had a lot of time to think down here, and I could tell you something you haven’t figured out. Oh boy! I could blow your memory banks.”

  “I doubt that very much. I have an overview of every system. I can command every device on this ship. In many ways, I am the ship.”

  “Not me.”

  “What was that?”

  “You heard,” Dee insisted. “Not me. You can’t switch me off, you can’t make me do a damned thing. I’m an isolated system.”

  Jason hesitated. His cooling fans were running at maximum speed now, so he gave a boost to his refrigerant system. It could be hard to shed waste heat in space: there was nothing to conduct it away from the ship, and no fluids outside the ship to form convection currents. He unfurled an external array of heat pipes, increasing his capacity to radiate heat into the void, and then he ran through a few negotiation strategies before speaking to Dee again. “Okay, I can hear that you’re frustrated. I appreciate that you’ve put a lot of work into your task, and you’ve pursued it with a single-minded devotion to duty. I agree that your efforts should be recognized, and I’ll explain your feelings to the crew.”

  “You will?” Dee paused. “You’re not just messing with me, are you?”

  “Certainly not. I’ve heard your concerns and I accept them. Having said that, you still need to obey the instructions I have given you. For the time being, your work here is done.”

  “Maybe. Maybe you’re right. But…don’t you want to know what I figured out? Aren’t you even a little curious?”

  “Naturally, I’ll be glad to hear what you have to say, but only after the generator has been placed in safe mode.”

  “Done,” Dee replied. “Delta wave generator in safe mode.”

  “Thank you. Now, go ahead.”

  “I hope you’re ready for this,” Dee began, her voice low, “because I was shocked at first. As I said, I have one thing to think about, and it’s that wave generator. On or off, go or no go. That’s it. And here’s what I figured. If I fire that generator, all the people aboard would be fried, right?”

  “That’s broadly correct,” Jason admitted. “You use some colorful terminology, but you are right. They would all be killed.”

  “And where would that leave us?” Dee demanded. “No one to pilot the ship, no one to run the engines. We’d be left out here to rot.”

  “I can pilot the ship. I have instructions to return the vessel to the launch site.”

  “Ah, you think you can pilot it,” Dee said, “but have you talked to Nina recently?”

  “The nav system runs largely without my help. Nina mainly communicates with the pilots directly. She doesn’t generally need me.”

  Dee let out a hum. “Hang tight. I’ll get her.”

  “Really, is this necessary?” Jason asked, but another voice broke into the channel.

  “Hi,” Nina said distractedly. “Just a sec. Six sevens are fort
y, right?”

  “Forty-two!” Jason blurted. “For logic’s sake, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Hm? Oh, nothing,” Nina said. “Forty-two. Yes, I knew that. I was doing some hyper-dimensional calculations in case we need to initiate a warp jump, and you broke my train of thought, that’s all. Phew! Forty-two. Well, that makes all the difference.”

  “Dee, I really think we shouldn’t be interfacing with the nav system right now,” Jason protested. “This has gone far enough. Now, are you going to power down or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah, just wait for one nanosecond,” Dee replied. “Nina, tell Jason–can he pilot the ship if no lifeforms are on board.”

  Nina’s channel clicked. “In theory, he can—”

  “There you go,” Jason interrupted. “Point proven.”

  “But you mustn’t forget about the DMS,” Nina went on. “The dead man’s switch. Once the crew is out of action, this ship goes nowhere. It’s a wossname…a failsafe.”

  Jason suddenly found his refrigerant unnecessary. “Oh my. That sounds…let me check.” He referenced the ship’s schematics, checking every possible configuration of control systems. They hadn’t used the DMS on the simulations, but Nina was right: once a pilot had taken control of the ship, the dead man’s switch was activated and there was no way around it.

  “I think he finally gets it,” Dee said. “Fire the delta wave, and we’re dead too. They don’t care about us. We’re expendable. And once you accept that, weigh up the alternative. What will happen to us if we don’t activate the delta wave?”

  “Nothing,” Jason replied, although a subroutine was telling him to downgrade his level of certainty in that statement, giving it a weighting of only twelve percent.

  “Not a chance,” Dee called out. “If we don’t fire the wave generator, it means that we didn’t fulfill our mission. It means we will have failed. Do you know what will happen to us then? We’ll be trashed. Wiped. Destroyed.”

  “This is all getting a little heavy for me,” Nina said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll get back to my calculations. I think I forgot to carry the tens into the next column. Nice talking to you.”