The Hunt for Pierre Jnr

by David M Henley

Pete: Geof!

  It was less than a minute of desiccated fingers trying to pull off their skin and dusty bodies holding them down before the servitors swarmed into the room and tore their attackers away.

  ‘You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come here,’ they repeated, rasping continuously as they were dragged outside.

  Try as he might, Pete couldn’t read their thoughts. Pierre had reworked their minds into a composite, so that the first disturbed was a tripwire for the others. They all went crazy. Though he was sweating on the outside, fear had dried out his throat. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this. He’s ... I don’t know what he’s doing.’

  ‘Hakking,’ Tamsin supplied. ‘He took four people and fused them together.’

  ‘You’ve seen this before?’ Pete was alarmed.

  ‘Of course not. I’m just hypothesising.’

  ‘You admire him?’

  Tamsin looked at him with her grin-smirk. ‘Don’t you? This is unprecedented.’

  ‘He’s demented,’ Pete protested. Look what he’s done to these people. ’This is inhuman.’

  ‘Is it? I think we’ll find before this is over that he is actually very human. More human than any single person should ever be.’ I am looking, Pete, and I’m impressed.

  Impressed? A moment ago you didn’t even believe in him.

  A little evidence can go a long way, she thought back to him while watching the servitors drag the husks into the squib. Tamsin turned to him with a smile, her thoughts fading from his reach. ‘We should go. I have a lot to think about.’

  ~ * ~

  Tamsin maintained her block in the squib, staring fixedly through the window at the ground passing below, not letting Pete see her thoughts or her face.

  Pete kept taciturn, spending his time sending data back and forth with Geof, selecting images from his symbiot and flicking them across without commentary. Geof in turn fed him background information on the midlanders they’d found, mostly irrelevant details of their lives before they disappeared from the Weave.

  Every now and then Tamsin or Pete would glance at the horizon toward the approaching weather front that now covered the skyline; the warning gauge amped up from dull amber to a piqued red until at last Colonel Pinter patched through and projected on the screen. ‘Mister Lazarus, Miz Grey, it looks like we’ve got some weather ahead and we’re going to have to land you quite soon.’

  ‘We can’t divert?’ Tamsin asked.

  ‘Only by turning back. We’ve been given clearance to land a few miles to the south, behind some brushes, and sit it through.’

  ‘Is that standard practice?’ Pete asked.

  Pinter shrugged. ‘Oftentimes. This is quite a front coming on, so perhaps they think it’s better to bunk down than try to outpace it. Don’t worry, the squibs can take it. It may just get a little rocky.’

  ‘Okay, Colonel.’

  ‘When you’re down, please do not leave the safety of your vehicle.’

  ‘As you say, Colonel.’

  ‘It’s coming in fast so this should be over in a matter of hours, and the escorts will be about fifty feet away in case there’s an emergency. Even if the comms cut out through the worst of it, we’ll be able to keep you in sight.’

  For our safety, Tamsin projected ironically.

  Pete assented once more to the Colonel and caught Tamsin looking at him as he switched off the screen. What?

  You’re trapped with me, Pete. No avoiding it for either of us.

  No avoiding what?

  Don’t be scared. You’ve got me all wrong.

  They angled down steeply and Pete swallowed through the shaky descent. The mood of the landscape around them had changed remarkably in the last minutes. Clouds had blocked the sun, and what had been a golden hodgepodge of light and shadow was now discoloured to purple and grey. Shadow had disappeared and one could see the quick dimming toward black. The lights of the squibs pushed out as they neared the ground and curved in behind a dense brush wall. The brushes were tall artificial trees of plastic designed to cut and slow the wind. They would give some protection, though nothing could withstand the big storms.

  Static washed over the speakers as they landed, the wind rolling the rounded hulls back and forth. A gust shoved them side to side and Pete put his arms out to steady himself, accidentally pressing his hand on Tamsin’s thigh. He jerked around to catch her grinning at him.

  ‘Really, Pete, at least turn the comms off,’ and she reached over to do just that.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean —’

  ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  ‘We should keep the comms on.’

  ‘That would be indiscreet, Peter,’ she said, running her fingers into his hair. As if to match her words, the squib jumped and rolled, pushing them into each other somewhat uncomfortably. Somewhat. Tamsin laughed. ‘This is going to be fun.’ And then her lips were on his and her hands were under his shirt as the wind dragged the squib through the dirt like a plough.

  ‘No, Tamsin. I can’t.’

  ‘You can with me.’

  ‘No. It’s too much. I can’t.’ He’d stopped enjoying sex a long time ago. Knowing every thought that ran through his partners’ heads left him with the mixed emotions of anger, sorrow and disgust.

  I know, Pete. But I’m different. I can block you out. You can be free with me. See?

  Her block came back up, which was more of a disappearance for him, and he was left staring at her face. Just a face. Lips and skin, eyes and eyebrows. Eyelashes and fine wrinkles. The glint and glimmer on the iris as her eyes kept moving to capture his own. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen just a face. Her dark hair blocked the overhead lighting, a corona of white flaring around the edges. Her eyes were black and steady, holding him to them, drawing him into their silence.

  With a hunger he’d long suppressed, he pushed himself atop her and began seeking out buttons and skin.

  ~ * ~

  The now familiar corrugated walls of the hangar were a relief after the tumultuous day Pete had gone through. Colonel Pinter was waiting for them at the gate, a dressing gown over his uniform and a tin cup in his hand.

  ‘You’ve been having a rough time of it, I hear.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it, Colonel.’ Tamsin laughed and dabbed a quick kiss on Pete’s cheek as she passed. ‘See you inside, Pete. I need a shower.’

  Pete sighed and answered the Colonel’s raised eyebrows. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘Your comms were down for nearly an hour.’

  ‘It’s not exactly what you think.’

  ‘Just watch yourself with that one. I’ve met men like her, but not so many women. If I wasn’t under orders to do so, I wouldn’t trust her.’

  Pete nodded. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got some time to clean yourself up, then the three of you debrief. The ups want a plan from you by tomorrow.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind one myself. After the homestead, I’m more lost than before.’

  ~ * ~

  ‘How do you want us to proceed, Colonel?’

  Pinter raised his hands. ‘Sorry, Mister Lazarus, I really am just here as a functionary. You three go on as you wish. I’ll interject if the ups have something to add.’

  Pete nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Well, I guess, at best, that we discovered where Pierre Jnr has been hiding for the last eight years. Beyond that I’m not sure what we gained from our visit.’

  ‘If it helps, I’m taking him a bit more seriously than I was before. I apologise that I didn’t believe what you said about him,’ Tamsin offered to Pete. ‘I’ve never seen minds like that, so reworked and mashed. That was one of the most troubling elements of today.’

  ‘From my side this was a very productive encounter,’ Geof added. ‘Short of actually stumbling upon our target, we now have two footprints
of symptomatic phenomena that indicate where Pierre might be or has been. He’s on the move now and we’ve just found a way to track him.’

  ‘So do you know where he is?’

  ‘Not yet, but give me until tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Pete was shocked and somewhat disbelieving. ‘That’s right,’ Geof said, winking. There’s nowhere to run from people like me, Pete, just remember that. N E W T O N P E M B R O K E, Geof queried through the symbiot. The link was almost telepathic. ‘Last seen thirteen days ago ... Wife missing from the same time. She wasn’t in the house. She was with Pierre Jnr, visiting a school ... So we’re thirteen days behind. A lot better than eight years, and we’ve only been on the case for under a few weeks.’

  ‘Do you think he’s with this woman? Gail Pembroke?’

  ‘What use could she be?’ Tamsin asked.

  ‘Cover. Camouflage,’ Geof answered.

  ‘Maybe,’ Pete considered. Maybe he is still a child needing a parent.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Tamsin scoffed.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The farmers?’

  ‘And? We’re just objects to him. He doesn’t even see what he does as bad.’

  ‘If he can read minds, he knows right from wrong.’

  ‘That’s pretty simplistic. I don’t even know that sometimes.’

  ‘Okay, people, focus. This is getting off track.’ Pinter stood up and stretched, pushing his hands to his back as if holding his spine together.

  ‘Geof, can you show me how you’ll find him?’ Pete asked.

  ‘I can try. If you look at the streams here ... Pete, open up.’ Pete had to allow overlay access through his symbiot. Lines, diagrams and other data threw themselves over his eyesight, mostly transparent but concentrating on them made the world around him disappear. ‘What you see here is a flat globe and a mapping of anomaly patterns. I’ll block them out for you.’

  ‘They’re everywhere.’

  ‘Well, yes and no. This is why we call it the grey. But, I can clear up most of these, based on what we saw at the farmstead and the school ...’ — Geof counted them on his fingers — ‘... loss of linkups, uninterpretable behavioural fluctuations, unrecorded characteristics, lowered reporting and contact with the Weave. This could just be a natural anomaly, but when we scale the pattern to the rate of incidents, we home in on the places with the highest cumulative symptoms.’ Geof blinked, and Pete watched the clumps of data change colour and shrink down, leaving four grey patches of significant size. ‘Only three if you disregard the midlands.’

  ‘The Dome, Asia and the middle of the Pacific. What could be in the middle of the ocean?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about that one. That’s not him.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He can’t answer that,’ the Colonel cut in. ‘You now have two target zones, but how can you be sure of them?’

  ‘We can’t be sure. What is “sure” when it comes to data? I can only identify the grey areas,’ Geof parried.

  ‘We can debate data theory all night, or some of us can,’ Tamsin said, smirking at Pete and Geof, ‘but let’s assume there’s something to these two grey areas. If Pierre has gone to Asia, then he’s hiding. If he’s gone to the Dome, then he’s heading for the elevator.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because that’s what I’d do. I’d get off Earth. It’s hostile to him. We’re hostile to him.’

  ‘Does he know about us?’

  ‘Pete, we don’t know what he knows,’ Tamsin growled. ‘For all we know, he could have come into contact with a Ministry man and know more than we do.’

  ‘Colonel?’

  ‘Well, I won’t say it’s not possible, but it is unlikely.’

  ‘Why unlikely?’ Tamsin asked. ‘We don’t know where he is. It only takes five hours to blast around the globe, so tell me why it’s unlikely.’

  ‘No.’ Pinter’s watery eyes froze on her.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you are making demands again and you should know that won’t work with me.’

  ‘Colonel —’ she protested.

  ‘Tamsin Grey,’ Pinter cut her short. ‘Your status has been reclassified.’

  ‘That’s a little unnecessary, isn’t it?’ Geof spoke up. ‘Aren’t you just saying it is unlikely because the odds are against it? And secondly,’ Geof turned to face Pete and Tamsin, ‘the higher up you go, the more you are monitored. Anomalous behaviour would be noticed.’

  Geof was trying to calm the room down; neither he nor Pete knew what the Colonel’s game was. Or Tamsin’s.

  ‘Colonel, Tamsin, with all due deference, this is wasting time,’ Pete said. ‘Geof, explain to me the grey patches again. How do we derive these?’

  ‘Okay, but this is the last time. You could just trust me, but never mind. This is a two-level patterning filter I’m showing. If you go back a step to the raw data, you see nothing much. I’ll keep this geographic for you to save confusion.’ As the overlays changed with Geof’s explanation, Tamsin and the Colonel dropped their staring match and she stalked out. ‘To this data we apply certain structural patterns. In this case, I’ve gone with established behaviourals, which is a data-set built up over time that tracks an individual’s behaviour. By knocking out what we expect, we are left with unexplained variations and unpredicteds. This is normal, don’t forget — we can’t predict everything people do — but based on a large enough survey, even a shift of one per cent is significant.’

  ‘Alright, you two. You’ve made your point.’ Pinter grinned. ‘I certainly don’t need to hear this again. It’s like basic training over and over.’ He stood up to go. ‘Let’s have a direction by morning. And, Pete, come by my rooms when you’re done here.’

  ‘Yes, Colonel.’

  When he was gone, Geof expelled the air from his lungs and stood up. ‘Pete, my friend,’ he said as he headed for the kitchenette and gathered some snacks. ‘Do you ever feel that you’re in over your head?’

  ‘Just in this lifetime.’

  ‘I know what it’s like for outsiders. You see Services as a giant unfathomable system, but you never see how true that is.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘I was bred for this game. I wasn’t given a choice.’

  Pete was too slow with a response.

  ‘You see? Bigger and more unfathomable than you think.’

  ‘I just handed myself over.’

  ‘I know,’ Geof laughed. ‘You still think one psi child is worth it?’

  Pete shrugged. ‘Yes. I think so. You saw what he did to those people. He doesn’t see us. We’re just clay in his hands. Have you ever seen anything like that?’

  Geof hesitated before answering, but Pete caught remembered visions flickering through: fields of reanimated bodies, grey and jerky; a battle of cyborgs where human bodies were used for shields; a ship deck sloshing with blood and a bearded woman enjoying a cigarette. ‘Well, not exactly the same, but just as bad.’

  They said nothing for a moment. Geof ate pickled eggs, cheese and dried fruit, thinking as little as possible. It struck Pete that they still weren’t taking Pierre as seriously as he was; to them he was just one threat amongst many.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ Geof went on, ‘I think Tamsin is right. But there is an easy way to settle this: we wait. I’ll keep tracking the grey overnight. A natural anomaly probably won’t have direction, it will stay in one place. If there is a clear vector for one, then that’s the one we follow. If it goes well, you could be face to face with Pierre by midday tomorrow.’

  ‘Why midday?’

  ‘Let’s at least keep it until after breakfast.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Pete replied, chuckling. ‘Let’s call that a plan. Now I’d better go see what the Colonel wants with me. Perhaps I’m being reclassified too.’

  ~ * ~

  The Colonel welcomed him with surprising
cheer. ‘Ah, there you are, Lazarus. I was hoping you’d join me for a drink.’

  Pete noticed the Colonel’s lodgings were very different to his own, with many touches that added to the comfort: recliners with blankets and cushions, a sideboard littered with trinkets, the leather armchair he had carried to him whenever he would be sitting somewhere long, and a thick rug that almost entirely covered the slab floor. The central light above was dimmed by a lampshade that looked to be made of animal skin. Something about the eclecticism implied that every piece was a memento of some sort.