Metal Sky

by Jay Caselberg

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  Talbot’s eyes widened. The buzz had grown louder, pounding in Jack’s ears.

  A bright flash lit the landscape, a sizzling rush, and then the buzzing was suddenly gone. The sharp smell of burning filled the air. Talbot still stood in front of him, but half his face had been burned away; one arm was gone, leaving just a blackened stump. His remaining eye was still wide.

  “See wha’ you done,” he said with what remained of his mouth.

  “I’ve done?” said Jack. “That wasn’t my fault. I’m not responsible.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder, but when he looked back, Talbot was gone. Even the awful burning smell was gone.

  Suddenly Jack was standing on top of the hill, looking down into a wide valley. Down at the bottom in the valley’s center sat what looked like another forest of cathedral trees. Something moved between the spires, flashing in the light, sending star-shaped flashes across the valley floor. Still the glare was interfering with the clarity of his vision. Perhaps they were birds. Some sort of shiny bird. But then he realized that couldn’t be right, not at this distance. They were just too big.

  Talbot’s voice came from the air around him. “ ’Ere, Yack. ’Ere. ’At’s ’ere you going.” The words were almost incomprehensible. The sight of the damaged Talbot had unsettled him, and as he headed down into the valley his heart was pounding. Sometimes he wished he could just conjure things in the dreamstate; a pair of sunglasses would be really good right now, but as much control as he had, he could only push and cajole the dream, prod it into a direction that might yield results. He shielded his eyes with one hand as he walked.

  The buzzing was back, muttering in the back of his consciousness and working on his back teeth. He kept walking, glancing around, looking for details, checking for anything that could possibly be a clue. The sky, though washed out with brightness, was slightly wrong. Beneath the glare there was a greenish tinge. A clump of cathedral trees appeared to one side, and this time they really were trees. Something dark and spiny lumbered between the legs and disappeared from sight. Jack swallowed. He turned his attention back to his destination and continued walking.

  He’d been walking for what seemed like hours now, and still the shining target seemed no closer. It was far, far away, and the valley stretched on in front of him. He stopped, staring into the distant structures. He was convinced they were structures now. Some vast, artificial construction.

  “Jack.”

  He looked to one side. There sitting on the ground, her legs crossed, picking at the stalks of vegetation in front of her, was Billie.

  “Billie?”

  The buzzing got louder.

  “You’d better get down, Jack.”

  There was a bright flash and a loud crack. Jack threw himself to the ground as something sizzled through the air above him. The smell of burning followed. Jack’s face was buried in the grass. He clambered to his feet, brushing himself off and looked around. A broad swathe of ground had been seared clean. Billie was gone again.

  Clearly, it was not a good place to be. He willed himself closer to his destination, but that didn’t work either. This was getting nowhere. Again, the buzzing was starting to intensify. No, he’d had enough warnings. Pushing hard, he willed himself awake. The brightness faded, drifting away into a tissue of smoke, and he struggled up through layered clouds toward consciousness. He broke through the mists, and he was awake. Fuzzy, but awake.

  Working his mouth and reaching for his water bottle, Jack sat up. Well, that had given him nothing. He worked his thumbnail under the inducer pad at one temple and glanced at the wall display.

  He’d been under for about an hour and a half. Maybe there were no clues for him to find in his subconscious extra senses. The dream seemed to have been fed by things that had happened: Talbot’s death, Billie’s discussion about alien archeology. He needed more, but right now, he didn’t quite know where he was going to find it. With a grimace, he scraped off the other inducer pad, placed them both on the shelf above the couch, took another sip, and swirled the water around in his mouth before swallowing. He would have at least expected some appearance of Bridgett Farrell in the dream if she was truly connected to Talbot and the artifact, but there had been no sign of her. That was the problem when he had nothing really to work with. Normally he would have had some sort of object he could use as a psychic cue, feeding from its energies, but right now he had nothing as substantial as that. He really needed something more physical to work with. He had to work with energies, not mere speculation.

  He pushed himself off the couch and reached for his clothes. As he pulled them on, he wondered again whether he should just drop the whole thing. He had the retainer, the so-called client had disappeared, and Talbot was out of the picture. Somehow, he had the feeling this was going to turn out to be a lot bigger than a simple three grand retainer though. There had to be something that was dragging offworlders to a safe little backwater like Yorkstone.

  “Windows clear,” he said.

  The opaque toning faded and his office filled with light, but it was fading light. It was starting to grow dark outside. He stepped out of the office and into the living room.

  “Billie?” There was no sign of her. He thought about calling her handipad, but then reconsidered. If she thought he was checking up on her, he’d be in trouble. It had only been a couple of hours though, hadn’t it? He couldn’t help feeling uneasy, but it was probably just a hangover from the dream. Ultimately, it was a hangover from other things too, but he preferred not to think about those.

  Seven

  The system announced someone at the door. Jack frowned. He’d been looking through Billie’s notes, waiting for her to appear. If it was Billie, she would have used her own access commands.

  “Who is it?” he said. “Show me.”

  Two men stood at the door—two men he didn’t really want to see right now. Jim Morrish and his partner, Steve Laduce. Morrish was looking slightly uncomfortable and rocking back and forth on his heels, looking at his feet. Laduce was staring at the door, a set expression on his face, arms crossed.

  Jack sighed and headed for the entrance. He wasn’t going to let them in. He could deal with whatever they wanted at the front door.

  He opened the door and stood looking at them, one face to the other. Morrish looked up from his feet, meeting Jack’s gaze with a sheepish expression. Laduce hit him with a hostile stare.

  “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” said Jack.

  “I think you know, Stein,” said Laduce.

  Morrish waved his partner to silence. “Listen, Jack. We’d like you to come with us, answer a few questions.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Jack, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorway. “And why would you want me to do that? What’s wrong with right here?”

  “Listen, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. There are just a few unanswered points we’d like to clear up.”

  Jack crossed his arms. “We can clear them up here and now, can’t we?”

  “We’d prefer if you came to our place,” said Morrish.

  “Get your coat, Stein,” said Laduce.

  Jack nodded, taking a heavy breath, and headed back into the living room to do just that. Morrish’s earlier call had been the first probe. Now they wanted to take things further. As he reached for the coat, he spoke.

  “Message. Billie, police have taken me. I’m down at their offices answering some questions. Should be back soon. End.”

  Laduce had walked in after him and stood in the doorway, looking around the room, a slight sneer on his thin, pointed face. “Come on, Stein.”

  Jack turned, narrowing his eyes at the man. “I didn’t ask you in. I’d thank you to wait outside. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Laduce shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, making no move to shift from his position.

  Jack sighed and shook his head, pulling his coat on. He stepped across to the c
offee table and scooped up his handipad. All the time Laduce watched him, the hostile glare unwavering.

  “You’re not going to need that.”

  “Yeah, well. Let me decide what I need and don’t need,” said Jack, shoving the handipad in his pocket. No way he was going to let them stop him taking it; his handipad was his link to Billie if he needed it. He pushed past Laduce and headed for the door. Laduce took a moment, giving the living room one last scan, and then turned to follow. Jack didn’t know what he’d ever done to this guy, but there’d been clear animosity from the start. Jack assumed Laduce was the sort of hard-nosed practical cop who wanted nothing to do with anything weird or out of the ordinary. To him, Jack was definitely that, and therefore suspicious.

  At the doorway, Morrish refused to meet his gaze.

  Together Morrish and Laduce, one on either side, accompanied him down to the street and to a waiting police transport. Across the road there were faces at windows, clearly watching what was going on. Jack closed his eyes briefly. Okay, so now he’d become the point of excitement in their otherwise ordered and ordinary lives. He pressed his lips together and allowed himself to be shepherded to the transport.

  “Listen, guys. Do we have to do this?” said Jack.

  Laduce snorted and Morrish said nothing. Okay, so that was the way it was going to be. They eased him into the back and then took positions in the front, giving the transport directions. Police headquarters. Fine. He glanced out the back as the vehicle took off, watching as the faces tracked his progress up the street. Standing outside a building a few doors up, a short man stood watching, unremarkable round face, blank expression, dark hair, his hands in the pockets of a short brown coat. Jack had seen that face before. And in that moment, Jack’s concern for Billie suddenly grew. Who the hell was this guy, and why was he watching them? He tracked the man until they turned the corner and he was obscured from view.

  He settled back in the seat to wait, reminding himself all the time that Billie was perfectly capable of looking after herself. Right now, he had to worry about what the police had sitting in their often slow-moving minds. They didn’t have that much to keep them occupied in Yorkstone.

  They pulled up behind the police building and Jack was led past the front desk, through the main reception area, and into the offices proper. Doors opened automatically, the police identification program easing the way. Morrish and Laduce led him to an interview room—a bare empty space, a desk, three chairs—and left him there. There was no need for anything else in the room. The walls themselves could relay images to adjoining rooms. Everything would be recorded. They were probably in a nearby room right now, watching him and working out the strategy between themselves. Jack pulled out a chair and sat behind the desk, ready to wait. If they thought they were going to make him sweat, they were in for a surprise. He pulled out his handipad and occupied himself spinning it around and around on the smooth table surface with one finger. After about ten minutes, both investigators appeared—the pride of Yorkstone’s detective force. He slipped the handipad away, then smiled at them and tilted his head. It brought an immediate reaction.

  Laduce crossed quickly in front of Jack, planted his fists on the table surface, and leaned forward.

  “I don’t think you’ve got anything to smile about,” he growled.

  “Yeah, whatever,” said Jack, and looked away. He didn’t want to get caught up in Laduce’s little game.

  Morrish had been standing by the door with his arms folded. He joined his partner at the table and pulled out a chair, then sat.

  “Jack, it’d be better if you helped us out here.”

  Jack looked from one to the other. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I guess this is about the Talbot case, right? I’ve already given you everything I know.”

  Morrish nodded. Laduce leaned forward across the table again. “And what do you know about that, Stein? It’s a bit funny, don’t you think? You start asking around for this Carl Talbot, and then he winds up dead. What have you got to say about that?”

  Jack shrugged. “Stuff just happens, doesn’t it? I didn’t know this Talbot. I was looking for him for a client. I didn’t find him. You found him first. End of story.”

  “Yes, we know you were looking for him,” said Laduce. “You were at the hotel. You called a couple of times. And all this happened just before Talbot met his unfortunate demise. So, what exactly have you got to do with it, Stein? You can’t tell me you’re not involved.”

  Jack leaned back and crossed his arms, pulling back from the intensity of Laduce’s probing stare. “Absolutely nothing,” he said. “I’ve told you everything I can.”

  Laduce turned away from the table, stepping back to lean against the wall near the door, shoving his hands into his pockets, but not breaking the hard, accusatory gaze. The guy really didn’t like him. Jack shrugged the glare away and turned his attention to the table in front of him.

  Morrish rubbed the back of his neck, then looked at Jack’s face. “You know, you say this sort of shit happens. Well, shit doesn’t happen in Yorkstone. Not this kind of shit, anyway. Do you know the number of murders we’ve had here in the last few years? You can count them on the fingers of one hand. You have to look at it from our point of view. It’s kind of suspicious, don’t you think? Everything’s quiet, you start asking around, and then someone winds up dead. How do you think it looks from our perspective?”

  “That’s just dumb, Morrish,” said Jack, a bit of exasperation starting to feed into his voice. “Look, I get called in on a case. You get called in on a case. It just happens to be the same case in a roundabout way. I can’t do anything about that. I’d be a lot happier if that wasn’t the way it was, but it is. What can I tell you?”

  Laduce strode across to the table, spun a chair around and sat, one hand leaning on the back. “You can tell us everything you damn well know about this Talbot. I don’t care what you say, Stein. You stink. I can smell it on you. You’ve got something to do with this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one who took the guy out.”

  Jack glared back at him. “What’s your problem, Laduce?”

  “I don’t like you, Stein. That’s what my problem is. You’re my problem.”

  “Oh, give it a rest.”

  “What?” said Laduce, nearly spitting the word at him. “I don’t have to like you or that crap you pretend to be able to do. You don’t fool me, Stein.”

  So that was it. What Jack did, what he was, threatened some people. They were afraid of it, and sometimes that fear simply translated into hostility.

  “Can’t help you, Laduce.”

  Laduce quickly stood and strode back to the door to glower across the room. Meanwhile, Morrish just sat there looking on. He was giving Jack a half-apologetic look. “I don’t know what to say to you, Stein. I’m half willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you have to admit it’s all pretty strange. Steve here isn’t so ready to cut you any slack. I think it would help if you told us what you were working on. That’s going to help us rule you out. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  “No can do,” said Jack, and shook his head. “Client confidentiality.” He wasn’t really in a position where he could even feed them some line yet. He couldn’t afford to have them messing up the trail. If the police got involved, they would only get in his way.

  His answer brought a snort of derision from the door. Jack ignored it.

  At that moment, Jack’s handipad chose to vibrate; a trilling tone came from his coat pocket. He went to reach for it, but Laduce was across like a shot, grabbing the handipad from his grasp, right out of the pocket, none too gently, and holding it aloft.

  “And I think we’ll take care of this too.”

  Jack growled through gritted teeth, but he knew there was little he could do about it. Laduce thumbed the handipad off and the sound died.

  “Well,” said Morrish. “I think we’ll leave you here to think about things for a while.”

  “
Hey, come on. You can’t hold me,” said Jack.

  “We can do anything we damned well please,” said Laduce with a grin.

  “If you change your mind,” said Morrish, “we’ll come and talk to you again.”

  They left him sitting there, nothing to look at but the empty chairs and the walls. No doubt they were in the next room watching him again. There wasn’t even anywhere he could lie down.

  He sat and thought about what they wanted. He couldn’t tell them about Bridgett Farrell. She was the only link to this whole thing, and the only link to his fee. If he brought her into it, it was just as likely that any of their efforts—his and Billie’s—would have been for nothing. No, he couldn’t risk it.

  Whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t any closer to a solution either. He was certainly no closer to tracking down this artifact, and when it came to it, he suspected that the artifact itself was the ultimate key to all this. He ground his jaw and drummed his fingers on the table.

  An hour later and he was still grinding his teeth and drumming his fingers on the table. He was debating stretching out on the table itself, or on the floor in the corner, when the door opened. Morrish walked in. This time he was alone.

  “Well, any thoughts, Jack?” said Morrish, standing in the doorway, the door half open.

  Jack shook his head. “I can’t, Morrish. There’s nothing I can give you.”

  “Well . . . it doesn’t look good then, does it?” Again Morrish’s expression was almost apologetic. “It looks like you’re going to be spending a little more time with us.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve got to be joking.”

  “My hands are tied. Come on.” He gestured for Jack to get up, led him out of the room and down a corridor. They passed Laduce on the way, who gave him a malicious little smile, and then he was led down into the bowels of the police complex. Plain, unadorned corridors, neutral walls. At least the holding cells in a place like this were going to be clean. This wasn’t the first time he’d spent a night locked up, but this time, the injustice of it was rankling.