The Ultra Thin Man

by Patrick Swenson

  The datascreen was nowhere to be seen.

  Forno smiled. “Did I forget to mention I’d solved that little datascreen problem? I disabled it. Made quite a mess of it, actually.” He pointed to a pulse rifle near him. “Comandeered it from one of the dead guards. It’s amazing how much damage one of those can do.”

  “They’ll have it back up and running in a few days,” Jennifer said. “But we’d better hurry, because it’s a good bet whoever put the screen up knows it’s down.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Probably. But at least we can get out of here without going through that thing. And just where are we going?”

  Now that I knew what was going on, I had no doubt about where to go.

  “The WuWu Bar and Grille,” I said.

  Forno narrowed his eyes. “Helk’s breath! After all this, you want to go have a drink?” He blinked a moment, then said, “Well, yeah, maybe that’d be a good plan.”

  “I need to get back to the Flaming Sea,” Jennifer said, working her hands over the controls, the sensors responding to her touch with short pulses of light. “Why the WuWu Bar and Grille for you?”

  The shuttle had banked again and now accelerated toward the mountain range Forno and I had passed through on our way to New Venasaille.

  “A message from Cara.”

  Jennifer and Forno glanced at each other, then at me.

  “Cara?” they both said.

  “Yes, Cara. She’s been … hiding. But now that I know she’s been copied, and copied somehow to disguise one of these aliens working with the Science Consortium—well, it’s obvious there are a few things she’s not telling me.”

  “I knew it,” Jennifer said.

  “I think she may know something about this key of yours, Forno.”

  “You told me she had no idea what the key was,” he said.

  “I said she didn’t seem to.”

  Forno leaned back in his seat.

  I sighed. “Look. You have somewhere else you want to go right now?”

  “Yeah, but my boyhood home on Helkunntanas is a long way away.”

  Jennifer smiled thinly, then turned back to her console. “To Kimson, then,” she said. “I’ll get us close by, and then you’re on your own.”

  “To Kimson,” I said, staring out the front window at the approaching mountains.

  To find Cara.

  Twenty-four

  You are a Thin Man now.

  Plenko’s words confused Brindos, but so had everything else about this ordeal.

  When he’d asked Dorie about Thin Man, she said it had to do with the Conduit and the copy process. She’d heard Plenko say it a few times about people who’d been copied.

  The first rain he’d seen on Temonus began falling as Brindos and Dorie wended their way through the streets, away from the chaos of the raid on the Helk district. Clouds and smoke from the attack obscured the night’s stars, and the sporadic streetlights made it a lot easier to hide and disappear when needed.

  Dorie had given him a half square of RuBy, carefully doling it out now, trying to ease his pain a little, but not wanting him to get hooked on the stuff. It was hard having it shown to you that you’re not immune to addictions; RuBy had an insidious way of catching your brain on fire.

  Not that it mattered much. If Brindos had a limited amount of time, if he had to die anyway, he might as well have no pain. It wouldn’t matter if he became addicted to RuBy or not.

  Dorie moved well enough, even with the discomfort from her sprained foot and bruised leg. We slipped through the district by means of so many alleys and passageways that Brindos was soon completely lost. He’d been pretty oblivious to his surroundings to start with. Dorie insisted she knew where she was going, however, and promised they’d get to the Orion Hotel before too long. The discomfort in his gut and the haze in his brain kept him from worrying about it much, and besides, he had no one else to trust but Dorie.

  That was saying something, considering Brindos had seen the police vid on Ribon that had presented her as a drugged-out fanatic before this whole mess came to a head.

  When several Midwest City Authority police vehicles sped past, they slunk into the shadows of a tall brick building on the edge of the district, a ragged awning helping provide cover. Dorie grabbed his shoulder and leaned out a little to check the street, then pulled him across it and down another alley.

  They continued this way for a half hour, until well clear of the Helk district, and the sounds of destruction had disappeared underneath the steady thrum of the larger, more populated areas of Midwest City. The Orion, he remembered, sat on the opposite end of town from the Restaurant, so they still had a sizable journey ahead of them. Now, too, they would be more conspicuous, since few Helks strayed from their district, particularly these days.

  Brindos huddled as best he could in the overcoat Dorie had given him, trying to diminish his presence. He ducked his head and the raindrops dripped from the wide-brimmed hat. If he had a flashstick and its curling holo-mist, the scene would be nearly cliché, but he sure as hell didn’t feel like the private detective he used to be. He was First Clan Helk, and nothing, not even a hunched posture and a baggy overcoat, was going to hide that fact. His hope was to at least keep Terl Plenko’s face hidden long enough to get to the bottom of this mystery.

  They spent a good half hour passing through residential areas made up of the mostly human residents, the pre-fab homes of the various housing projects looking shiny and new compared to what Brindos had seen in the Helk district. Traffic increased along the now rain-soaked streets, the few privately owned cars mingling with the city’s ground buses and taxis. Once in a while, a Temonous Authority cruiser rushed past in the direction they’d come, or a small air vehicle whooshed by overhead.

  Residential gave way to blocks with a mixture of more elaborate homes and actual stores and shops. More colonists, mostly human, braved the sidewalks as they dashed in and out of store fronts, avoiding the rain.

  The sharp pains started pinging inside him again, seemingly coming back faster than before. He endured them without saying anything to Dorie. He suddenly felt the need to breathe free, to exist without RuBy in his system, and he gritted his teeth, wondering how long that desire would win out over the agony of his reality.

  Brindos fought to bear the pain as they drew nearer to the business district. Even here, the buildings never became extreme or elaborate. As he’d noticed when first landing on Temonus, most colonists had taken a chance on this planet, starting over in many cases, and the small minority of well-to-dos kept their posh homes along the outer edge of the cities. But even those residences paled in comparison to the excesses on Earth. Excesses that had crippled her, and sent her inhabitants scrambling for the other planets of the Union, where they could begin again.

  So much for that.

  A glass window of a tiny shop shattered next to him, the crash startling him from his reverie. He turned to watch the shards smash against the sidewalk. The shop sold clothing—a few mannequins with heavy coats and scarves stood in the display window. Dorie pulled him down, but something still hit him in the shoulder. Looking back out across the street, he fixed upon the dark shapes of three older kids, drenched in the rain because they had no coats or umbrellas. Two girls stood on either side of a boy, who stood a good three or four inches taller. The boy casually tossed a rock in the air.

  The pain in Brindos’s shoulder went away quickly. Nothing compared to that inner burning agony he was fighting off now, and he nearly growled at them, making a slight move in their direction. Dorie did her best to keep him down.

  “You can’t,” she said.

  “Hulk, go home!” the boy yelled across the street, his voice booming.

  Laughter from the two girls. One of them threw a rock, and this time, Brindos instinctively gathered Dorie within his large frame to protect her. The rock sailed over their heads and hit the door of the clothes shop with a loud thunk.

  “Stickman, Stickman!” the boy yel
led. “Save us from that louse!”

  The others joined in. “The Movement’s here and Plenko’s near—”

  Goddamn them to hell. Forgetting secrecy, Brindos succumbed to the pressure and stood up, removing his hat and coat. He let them have a good look. They shut up so quickly that for a moment they looked frozen in place across the street. For effect, Brindos made an audible growl.

  “O you better be afraid,” he said, finishing the street rhyme. He took two steps toward them and they came unstuck from the pavement and dashed off to the end of the block. They disappeared around the corner.

  Dorie sighed. “Okay, now we do have to move. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do right now.”

  “I didn’t want you hurt,” he said, putting the coat and hat back on.

  She looked a little surprised at his protectiveness, but she managed a smile. “Thank you, but if those kids say something to anyone—”

  “We’ll be far away from here.”

  And they headed off toward the Orion, which Dorie said was still a good half mile away.

  “How are we going to do this?” he asked as they continued to keep to the shadows, inching forward as breaks in traffic and pedestrians allowed it.

  “Anywhere along here, now. We need a place for you to hide. I need to find this Joseph.”

  They had hit the full business district, but the cover of night, and the later hour, was making it easier to make progress toward the hotel.

  “What if he’s not there?” she asked.

  Brindos didn’t know Joseph’s hours or what days he worked or didn’t work. During the handful of days he had stayed at the Orion, there hadn’t seemed to be much of a pattern in his work schedule, other than the fact that he seemed to be there nearly all the time.

  “He’ll be there,” Brindos said.

  “Here,” she said, pointing to an alley between two of the tallest buildings—as tall as they got here in Midwest City, anyway. “There should be very little foot traffic coming through here. Pull some of those refuse containers closer, and sit between them.”

  The black containers, although large and bulky, didn’t pose a problem for his Hulkness. He quickly arranged them into a small cave and sat down on the rough, wet pavement.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Dorie said.

  “He knew me in my human form as Dexter Roberts. Dexter Roberts. Remember. And if you can’t find him, don’t stick around. You come back here and we’ll figure something out.”

  She smiled. “I’ll find him. How’re you feeling?”

  “Like a two-ton dead weight is sitting in my stomach,” he said, “and all the nerves, all the blood vessels, are pinched shut.”

  She fumbled around in the pocket of her black rain slicker and found another square of RuBy. She tore it in half. “I don’t know how much more of this I can give you. The effects start diminishing with time, and as usually happens, the body craves it more and more.”

  “I’m dying anyway, right?”

  She held out the red paper, he stuck out his tongue, and she put it there, watching it dissolve, watching him—his life—dissolve with it. “Not so fast, Brindos. We’ll figure something out.”

  “You were married to him.”

  “What?”

  “To Plenko. Married to him.”

  “Yes—”

  “What does it mean to you, to see me here now? To be doing all this, with so much at stake? You loved him.”

  “That was—”

  “I know.” He put his large hand on her shoulder, gently. “This is difficult for you. You didn’t have to do this. I’m not him. I’m not the man you married.”

  She nodded, warmth in her eyes, a sad smile on her lips. “How can I not help? I look at you and I see the love and joy I felt for Plenko in those days before—”

  “Shhh.”

  She stopped and gazed into his face that was her husband’s face, the Helk she had lost. She was going to lose him again, no doubt.

  “You should get going,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She stuck the other half of the RuBy square in his coat pocket. “Keep it dry. And don’t take it unless you absolutely have to,” she said. “Okay?”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  “You come back for me.”

  She smiled. “Union bright.”

  She rested the palm of her hand on his leathery cheek for a moment, then she straightened, turned, and ran off quickly to the street.

  The rain stopped a few minutes later. That was something, anyway. Drifting into himself, waves of euphoria crashed down. He closed his eyes to the alley and the world.

  Awake.

  The monotony of this crap really pissed him off. Awake, passed out, awake, knocked out, awake, passed out, awake, drugged out, awake …

  Still dark. How long had it been this time? Previously, in Dorie’s house, a whole day had slipped by. Brindos took stock of his surroundings. Still in the same place. Trash bins shielding him. Stars out. Sky clear now, the pavement still wet.

  Then came the slow realization that he didn’t feel the raging pain inside him. Why? Because very little time had actually passed? Or had his system somehow figured out a way to undo the damage? Maybe he had become immune. Something in his biochemistry had counteracted the drugs, the unknown, alien process clogging his insides.

  Perhaps Dorie had come back, unsuccessful, popped another square of RuBy in his mouth, and ran off to try again? Or had she given up and left him there to fend for himself? He didn’t think she would do that. Not this Dorie.

  Still. She knew something that Plenko and the others wanted.

  “They” were keeping her alive because of it. A key. She would have to answer about that soon enough; he just didn’t have time to worry about what side she was on any longer. If it was important to one side or the other, she would have to tell him.

  A dull ache forced him to think a bit more clearly.

  The essence of something that wanted to be pain still tugged at him, so the whole “beating out the process and becoming immune” idea seemed unlikely.

  For the first time, Brindos wished Dave Crowell was there with him. He missed him. Missed the days in Seattle, the two of them taking on those few cases that would pay the rent and put food in their mouths. Jobs had been far and few between, considering most of the people had headed off planet, or at least to the largest cities like L.A., New York, or Chicago, where the infrastructure of society still included a backbone.

  Some of Earth’s population had come here, to Temonus. Some, like Cara Landry, to Aryell. Some, like Dorie Senall, had found Ribon, the largest and most industrialized of the colonies. Some had braved Memory, living among that race of beings. Some to Orgon. Or to Barnard’s.

  Even some on Helkunntanas. Enigmatic, mysterious Helkunntanas. Here he was, one of the most well-known Helks of them all. But not. How much did the Helks really have to do with all this? Or was it all instigated by the likes of Joseph, whoever he was?

  Having Dave Crowell here would have put his mind at ease. He had a way of defusing even the heaviest of situations. Brindos liked the way Crowell’s brain worked its way around problems, although he doubted Crowell had had much luck figuring this shit out.

  Brindos felt a punch in the gut, and cramps zinged around his middle. He growled as he scrunched into a tight ball and waited for this new pain to pass.

  So much for his earlier theories. If Plenko was right, if Dorie was right, the pain would get worse, his body would rebel, the treatments would not be forthcoming, and he would not likely see Dave Crowell again.

  The pain got worse.

  Brindos fumbled inside his coat pocket, fingering the half square of RuBy. Not unless you absolutely have to, Dorie had said. How much more pain should he endure? If he took it now, and she came back shortly after, would it make any difference? She could just as well come back and give him another dose anyway.

  Or she could get herself captured, or worse,
killed, and never come back. Then what would he do?

  He would have to make a run for the Orion Hotel himself. He had no other sane option, seemingly, than trying to talk to Joseph, and if that meant walking through the hotel’s front door, grabbing him by the neck and demanding answers, then so be it. He might get answers. He might get blasted. Captured, detained. Executed.

  Well.

  He figured he’d find something out one way or another. Get a chance to talk to someone before the inevitable happened.

  Plenko’s words still haunted him. You will die within the week, one way or another.

  He fought back another wave of pain, this time spreading from belly to chest and arms, as if jabs of hot needles were perforating his skin. Outside and inside now.

  A sensation akin to a needle poking his left eye made him cry out, and he covered it with his hand. The pain didn’t let up, not one bit, his whole body now crawling with fire, and he figured this might be his “absolutely have to” RuBy moment.

  The half square was already in the palm of his hand. He’d gone from fingering it to grasping it, probably when the pain had ripped through him. Although crumpled, the RuBy looked more beautiful than anything he’d even seen. The low light turned its red color almost black, and because of the dampness, some of the dye coated his hand, but that was about the extent of the thinking he did before placing the paper on his tongue.

  The RuBy flashed through quicker than ever, relief coming almost instantly. If Dorie was right, the drug would wear off faster, and he’d ache for more and more of it.

  If he was going to do something on his own, he needed to consider starting now. He struggled to his feet, crouching a little to keep low in case anyone chose that moment to walk by the alley opening.

  No one walked by. He straightened and walked out from his cave of refuse containers, sliding close to the wall of the nearest building, back pressed hard against it. His head cleared somewhat, even as the RuBy haze filmed his eyes. The alley was quiet, and no noises came from the main street either.

  What time was it? He’d become so unstuck from the normal passage of day and night. Daybreak could be an hour away, for all he knew.