ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/harrison/har02

Text File | 1991-04-25 | 26KB | 563 lines

                      Harrison  -  Chapter Two

Copyright 1990 by Jim Vassilakos.  All rights reserved.  Permission is
hereby granted by the copyright holder to copy and freely redistribute copies
of this work, so long as no commercial or barter consideration is obtained in
exchange for such copies.



                           Two



Faint moonbeams caressed the dark ocean swells as they washed the
damp beach with the gloomy remnants of memories past. Mike laid
still along the water's edge, his bare feet slowly dipping in and
out of the quiet tide. An empty flask rested at arm's length from
his tired body as he dreamt about years past, and worlds far
across the vast sea of space.
   He remembered a gentle Sirian voice warning him of his own
impending assassination just hours before her execution and
recalled the words of a wealthy industrialist, "People are
profits; individuals: losses." He dug out of the past a friend
who committed suicide after having found freedom from an Imperial
correctional institute and thought on the immoral techniques once
practiced by a medical research lab on all assortments of
non-volunteers. He remembered a gang of youths beating a elderly
man to death because he was an off-worlder and fought back the
recollection of twisted arms and limbs as all the remains of a
Tizarian Foreign Embassy staff after a terrorist bombing.
   Suddenly, he woke. The familiar sickness was there, but the
feeling of being forcibly thrust out of the warmth and safety of
Sleep's benign womb was lost to an insidious fear, as if he had
barely escaped from the black pit of an ancient nightmare.
   "You okay?"
   Mike jumped, his nerves swinging his head around nearly to the
point of whiplash. It was only Niki, and she promptly began her
little giggle at Mike's initial surprise.
   He looked over his research assistant with considerable
distaste, "What're ya doin' here?"
   She drew her hands to her mouth trying to control the spasms
of hysteria which only succeeded in making matters worse.
   Mike regarded her with a grin, "Fine."
   He groggily got to his feet as she rolled on the cold sands
clenching her ribs in a coughing fit of laughter.
   "C'mon, it wasn't that funny."
   Out of breath, she began slowing down. Mike reached for under
her shoulders and lifted her small frame off the ground. She put
up a mock struggle, laughing all the while.
   "Michael... No! Put me down!" He carried her over his shoulder
towards the house as she whined, squealed, and laughed.
   The house was dark and lonely when they finally arrived. Mike
walked in and tumbled Niki on the couch. She rolled herself up
around a large pillow and beamed up at him with a smile. He shook
his head in disbelief and grinned.
   "Aren't ya' gonna say hi?" She was in a playful mood.
   "Hi."
   They looked at each other for a moment before he continued.
   "So, how's my psyche doin'?"
   "Just fine... Boss."
   "Don't call me that."
   She laughed, "Why not? Is it a dirty word?"
   He nodded, "Yes. And how's Mr. Fork doin'?"
   "Okay-fine."
   "Still locked up?"
   "Yep, but he's gettin' better."
   Mike laughed, "That's sayin' nothin'."
   "No, Really. He's a lot better than he was. He's even
beginning to talk now."
   "What have you gotten out of him?"
   "Nothin' much so far. It's still too scrambled to tell what
he's thinkin'."
   "Bet that makes for some interesting reading though. Look, I'm
gonna get a beer, ya want one?"
   Her smile faded. "Naw, ya' don't want beer."
   "Yes I do," he headed for the kitchen.
   "Drink some zardocha instead." She sounded hopeful.
   Mike thought about it for half a moment, "Yuchi-foo."
   "How 'bout milk?"
   He mimicked, "How 'bout beer?"
   "You'll get drunk."
   He tapped the nozel release, and twisted the setting nob down
to Niki's favorite.
   She smiled, "You're not gonna get drunk."
   He looked at her, mock-seriousness molding his features into a
neutral expression. "Do I ever?"
   She started giggling, "Tee hee hee... you were so surprised."
   "Was not."
   "Hee hee... was too."
   "Was not you little sneak. Besides, you never told me why you
were there."
   She stopped laughing, "Just came by to see how you were."
   Mike glanced at the clock, "At ten after midnight? How'd you
know where I was."
   "And I thought ya' had intelligence. Where are ya' always when
its dark outside and you're too lazy to answer the door?"
   He gulped down half the glass, "Excuse the stupid question.
I'm a little buzzed right now."
   "Why do ya' sleep out there?"
   Mike wondered whether she was requesting information or making
small talk. "You've asked me that before."
   "Ya' never answered me."
   Mike paused. "To sleep............ perchance to dream."
   "Did ya dream?"
   He thought a moment. "Yeah."
   "What about?"
   "I dunno."
   She laughed, "Liar."
   He sipped his milk. It was as cold as ice but felt strangely
good going down.
   "Well?"
   "You didn't read me while I was out?"
   "Nah. I saw your eyes goin' though. But I still 'member when
you said not to read you."
   "I wonder why...."
   "Aw c'mon. Y'know you can tell me."
   He replied laughing, "I do?"
   "Yes." For once, her tone was convincing.
   He paused, "Okay. You remember hearing about the Tizarian
embassy on Calanna?"
   "Yeah, I heard got blown up. Hey, that wasn't when you were a
correspondent down there, was it?"
   Mike nodded, "I was pulled shortly before that, but I was
still... sightseeing."
   "Of course," she was smiling.
   "Now... I had nothing to do with..."
   "Don't even try lying, Michael."
   "Okay... well anyway, the short of it is that I was there just
a cent before it happened. I went out to make this call... the
embassy was a notoriously bad place to carry on a private
conversation. While I was walking back... I heard the..." He
stretched out his arms to form the visual image.
   "Boom?"
   "Boom," Mike agreed hesitantly. "I started running to see what
happened."
   Niki watched him sympathetically, "No one survived."
   They fell silent for a time as Niki let her milk sit scarcely
touched. Mike's dream had shattered her mood.
   Her eyes slowly grew glossy in the blue fluorescent light.
"I'm sorry."
   Surprised, he looked up, "About that?"
   "I'm just sorry."
   "It's okay."
   Mike looked into her eyes and then averted his gaze downward
toward the floor. "Drink your milk."

                        *     *     *

"Mike...?"
   Mike awoke stiffly on the floor. Niki sat over him, one hand
on his shoulder, gently shaking him to consciousness.
   He squinted groggily in the dim light. "What time is it?"
   "Twenty. Mike, Fork's in trouble."
   Mike was suddenly wide awake. "What is it?"
   "I dunno. I think somebody woke him up in the middle of a
nightmare."
   "Enough to wake you?" Mike asked in hopeful disbelief.
   "No. I was still up. I just happened to be open to it."
   "Did he wake up by himself?"
   "No. I'm pretty sure somethin's up."
   "Ok, let's go." Mike picked himself off the floor grabbing his
black camera bag on the way out the door and headed straight for
the back terrace. He hopped on the fly-cycle, felt under the seat
cushion for the key, and switched on the grav-plates while Niki
hopped on behind him and held to his waist.
   The vehicle raced over the shoreline using its natural flat
surface to pick up speed. The crisp ocean waves, remarkably
changed in the past few hours, lashed the coast and pounded the
beach crag with an unrelenting fury as the bright full moon rose
to its apex in an otherwise pitch black sky.
   Within five minutes they landed just outside the nearby
Tizarian medical center. Only a mile inland, the smell of salt
carried by the chilly morning breeze floated through the air. A
cargo shuttle rested on a pad under a hundred meters from the
complex, and two guards in dark night-uniforms stood outside the
entrance in the bleak, morning cold.
   Mike dismounted the vehicle and quickly trotted towards the
guards.
   Niki grabbed Mike's arm cutting short his advance. "I don't
have my doctor I.D."
   He shrugged, "Forget it. We'll play it straight."
   Mike stopped short of the guards and drew out his press card.
"Michael Harrison, Gatherer, Galactic Press, Tizarian Division. I
need access to this facility to see one of the patients."
   The guard in front laughed, "At twenty in the morning?"
   "Yes. This may be an emergency."
   The guard mocked seriousness, "Well, it must be a pretty big
one. What do ya' think George? Do we let little Mikey in?"
   The other guard was older. His grey eyes depicted a sternness
not much impressed by his partner's attitude. He coughed before
speaking, perhaps to be sure he had everyone's attention,
"Nobody's allowed in the medical center, mister..."
   "Harrison. I'm with the Tizarian Division. I have permanent
press clearance to this center. See? It says so right here." Mike
pointed toward the card, but neither guard paid any attention.
   The first guard laughed again, "Hey, who's your psych?" Niki's
dark, Sirian features hinted at her purpose.
   Mike talked while getting out his flimsy. "Didn't you here
what I said? I have clearance. By the way, I didn't get you guys'
service numbers."
   The older guard broke in, "Look, buddy. We have orders not to
let anybody in. Anybody! Do you understand? Now why don't you
just hop back on your play-scooter with your girly-friend and get
your snot-nosed face off our turf!"
   "Orders from who?"
   "From our commanding officer. Who do you think?"
   "Who is?"
   The older guard shouted, "I just said who!"
   "As in a name."
   The guard paused, not quite sure how to phrase his response.
"That's classified."
   Mike looked up from the flimsy. The guard who spoke reinforced
his position by standing in front of the door, his plain, black
uniform blending nicely with the purple background.
   "You guy's aren't even wearing Tizarian badges. Who the hell
are you?"
   "Starlaw." The answer came simultaneously from both.
   Mike shot a wary glance at the pair, "You Imperial police have
some sort of identification?"
   They pulled badges from their pockets.
   "Why aren't you guy's wearing these things?"
   There was no answer. Mike was fairly certain they couldn't
arrest him.
   "Oh, I guess that's classified too. Look, I'd like to speak
with your commanding officer!"
   The young guard pushed Mike backward and began to draw his
gun, but the other held him back, the older guard's stare
belieing a temptation to let his partner carry out the threat.
Suddenly, Niki gasped as if shocked.
   "What is it?"
   She paused, regaining her breath. "He's gone."
   "What?"
   "No more signal."
   Mike drew out his camera and backed away from the guards,
pulling Niki back with one hand clenched around her shoulder.
   "Smile dudes." Mike snapped the shot, and retreated quickly to
the cycle.

                        *     *     *

The personal office of Charles Linden, copy editor for the
Tizarian Division of Galactican Press, rested near the top of the
center section of Silver Tri-Towers. It was, as Chuck liked to
put it, a room with a view. Out the sky window, if the day was
clear enough, the entire expanse of land all the way to the coast
could be surveyed. From well over two kilometers high, it was a
wondrous sight.
   Mike sat at the edge of the editor's dark, mahogany desk
staring blankly out the window as the clouds blew by. Niki,
leaning against the close, white wall, quietly watched his
profile, collecting his emotions, reading his worries.
   The faint noise of footsteps approached the enterence, Niki
turning to look as the antique, brass doorknob turned clockwise.
Linden, stood in the doorway smiling suspiciously while surveying
the duo.
   "Well! If it isn't Mik and Nik."
   Mike intentionally suppressed his smile. "Hi Chuck."
   "That's Mister Linden to you Harrison. So, how's it going?"
   "It sucks." The voice was Niki's.
   Linden turned his head toward her, leaning his body on the
desk toward Mike.
   "Does it really?"
   "Yeah, it sure does."
   Linden laughed, "You teaching her slang, buddy?"
   Mike smiled, "Y'know Chuck, you really have a way of breaking
the mood."
   "Yeah. I saw your entry this morning; suggested headline:
'Imperial Police Seize Hospital.' Very catchy."
   "You don't like it?"
   "First off, it isn't a hospital. It's a medical center. Big
difference. Secondly, they didn't seize it."
   "They refused my clearance."
   "I just got off the phone with a Lieutenant Robertson. He
tells me you tried to assault one of his guards."
   Mike held the smile, "He's lying."
   Linden confidently continued, "He also told me you never
showed your press I.D. to the guards."
   "Chuck, He's lying."
   Linden looked Mike in the eyes, "Prove it."
   "I have a witness."
   "Do you have the encounter on crystal?"
   "No."
   "Why not?"
   "We were in a hurry when we left. I forgot the recorder.
   "You forgot the recorder; no substantiation. The paper gets
sued. I lose my job. And as for your so-called witness... who has
been illegally posing as a psychotherapist at the medical center
for the past doce so that you could get a story which was never
registered with the paper! What the hell are you trying to pull,
Mike!?!"
   "The last time I registered a story with the paper my research
assistant got her brains blown out by a firing squad!"
   "That's because all your, quote-unquote, research assistants
are unregistered telepaths!!"
   Niki winced. Mike shook his head in disbelief as his boss
continued.
   "Look buddy, it's not like I don't believe you. I do. But
you're just doing everything the wrong way."
   "I'm doin' my best."
   "I know. That's 'cause you are the best... usually."
   Mike looked up hopefully, "So what do I do now?"
   "Lieutenant Robertson is coming over. He'll be here in a few
minutes. I suggest you wait around 'til he gets here. Question
him. If you can, trap him."
   Linden reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small,
pocket recorder. He placed it on the desk in front of Mike.
"You're still on Tizarian turf. Use the advantage."
   By that last remark, Linden meant that there were several
advantages press gatherers had on Tizar which weren't granted to
them on many other worlds. The right to publish recorded
statements without the approval of the speaker, the right to use
registered telepaths to gather information, and the right to
access the non-classified records of any subject were just a few
examples.
   Mike sat down at the computer terminal in the far corner.
Linden, a lover of antiquities, rarely ever touched it, and the
file on Robertson revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The
twenty-seven year old, Starlaw officer entered the service after
attending Duke Marc's College. He earned a degree in Enforcement
of Justice, and served Starlaw in the public relations
department. He'd been promoted during his first four-year hitch
and was now working through his second.
   Mike looked up from the file as Linden's secretary knocked at
the door to announce the lieutenant's arrival.
   "Send him in, Jo... and tell the floor that I'll be down in a
few minutes."
   "Alrighty Mr. Linden."
   A tall man with short blond hair and smooth brown eyes entered
the office. His practiced smile was as wide as it was non-
deceiving.
   Linden returned the smile, "Lieutenant, please come in."
   "Mr. Linden? How good it is to finally meet you in person. I
must confess, I didn't know who to greet at first."
   "That's quite understandable."
   "You should get a videophone. That's what everyone I know
uses."
   "Yes. Well, on an editor's salary, I think I'll just stick to
the basics. This is Michael Harrison, the reporter who spoke with
your guards; and this is Nikita Sen, a research assistant with
the press."
   Mike smiled at the lie as he shook hands with the Lieutenant.
   Robertson also shook hands with Niki but avoided her eyes.
  "Mr. Linden. You hire Sirians. I am surprised."
   "Why?"
   Robertson laughed uncomfortably, "Have you not heard the
Imperial convention against psionic trespassing?"
   "Lieutenant, the Psionics Suppression is a matter for
historians. Besides, this is Tizar. We have been granted freedom
in those areas by your Archduke's grandfather long ago."
   Robertson seemed to physically squirm in his stance, "Still,
editor. I must insist that my mind... not be... violated." He
smiled shyly at Niki.
   Mike wondered what kind of people the Imperials were hiring,
"You've got something to hide, Lieutenant Robertson?"
   "Of course not. There are just certain classified matters....
Unrelated, you understand."
   Mike smiled, "No problem. Niki's telepathy is very... weak."
He decided to stretch the truth, "She can only read the answers
to yes or no questions, feel surface emotions, and even for that
she has to be looking at the subject in question."
   "Still Mr. Harrison, I must insist that she at least leave the
room."
   Niki broke in, "I don't mind leaving, but I would like to hear
what is said. After all, I am to a certain extent involved. If I
turn around, I'll be largely unable to use my telepathy. Would
that be all right Lieutenant?"
   Robertson shrugged, "I guess that'll have to do. Sorry about
the inconvenience."
   Niki smiled, "That's okay. I'm used to it."
   Robertson looked at Mike and began to grope for a place to
begin. "So Mr. Harrison, the guards at the medical center told me
they had a little trouble with you."
   "I suppose they did, Lieutenant. I wanted entrance; they
denied it."
   "Well, did you tell them you were a gatherer?"
   "Yeah, I showed them my press card."
   "Well... that's not their story. What were you doing out there
so early anyway?"
   "Me and Niki suspected that something may be wrong with one of
the patients."
   "Which one was this?"
   "John Doe, number eighteen."
   Robertson looked surprised. "Hmmm... that's quite a
coincidence. That patient died in his sleep at around midnight
last night."
   Mike's mouth fell open, "What?"
   "There's nothing you could have done. He was well on his way
to the golden arches when you arrived, or wherever it is that he
went. Wasn't he the insane gentleman who murdered a guard with a
carving fork and injured two civilians?"
   Mike tried desperately to regain his wits.
   Robertson continued, "So, Mr. Harrison, what made you suspect
that there was something wrong with the patient."
   Mike looked back up at the Lieutenant. "Niki, turn around."
   Robertson instinctively withdrew a step.
   Mike continued as Niki turned about to face the lieutenant,
"Is he lying?"
   She nodded yes; her eyes burning red with antipathy.
   Robertson avoided both her's and Mike's stare and turned to
Linden for support. "I doubt I'd be the first. Mr. Linden, I
protest."
   Mike stood directly in front of Robertson. "Lieutenant, what
was Starlaw doing there?"
   "That's confidential, Mr. Harrison."
   "Can't you at least tell me the branch of personnel, the name
of the commanding officer?"
   Robertson shrunk under the direct questions. "Internal
Counter-Insurgency. ISIS Division. That's all I can say."
   "ISIS?!?" Mike almost jumped back into Linden's lap. "The
Imperial Secret Police?"
   "Please Mr. Harrison. You have me at an awkward position. I'm
only regular Starlaw."
   "Then why are you lying!?!"
   Lieutenant Robertson withdrew to the door. "I won't stand to
be interrogated in such a fashion," he weakly complained. "I'm
leaving."
   Robertson opened the door and quickly escaped from the hateful
stares of the three people he was sent to pacify. Mike took the
recorder out of his pocket and turned it off. "Can I publish it
now?"
   Linden sat down and crossed his legs, a twinkling of a smile
lighting his otherwise sharp countenance. "No. You can go out
there and get some more facts, and then come back with a real
story. I've got a feeling this'll be a winner once you've got it
fully researched, and I won't even make you register Niki."
   Mike smiled gravely, "It's a little too late for that; they
already know about her. But thanks anyway. We'll take the offer.
We'll also try to get some more info. I'd also appreciate it if
you'd keep quiet about the story."
   "Okay. But I don't see how that's going to help you now
either."
   "Trust me, it will. Look, I'll catch you later. Thanks for the
help."
   "Ok, I'll see you two later."
   Mike and Niki exited the office. Once in the outer hall, Niki
tugged at the gatherer for attention. "Hey, ya' really know how
to get people t' listen to ya'."
   He looked her in the eyes, "I'm sorry."
   She smiled, "About you or about Fork?"
   "I'm just sorry."
   She shrugged, "Let's get some milk."

                        *     *     *

The bar was cool and dimly lit. Several ceiling fans twirled
silently above as Mike drank his milk on the rocks; Niki had
her's straight.
   "So," she began, cutting the solemn mood, "where do we start
this time?"
   Mike sipped thoughtfully, "I haven't the faintest idea."
   "Liar." She was smiling.
   He grinned back and took another sip.
   She grew impatient, "Well?"
   "Okay. I met this girl a while ago."
   Niki laughed, "Is this one of your drunk maid stories?"
   "No. This happened just yesterday. I don't know whether Chuck
told you, but me and him met Mr. Clay and his daughter for
lunch."
   "Boardmember Clay?"
   "Uh huh."
   "And the girl's his daughter?"
   "Yeah. Anyway, so we talked, and then they had to leave, but
that afternoon she came over to my house."
   "Alone?" Niki looked concerned.
   "Uh huh."
   "And you let her in?"
   "Why not?"
   She had no reply.
   "So anyway, While she was in the bathroom, I found out she was
an android."
   "What were you doing in the bathroom with her?"
   "I wasn't in the bathroom. I was in the living room."
   "What was she doing?"
   "Taking her ear off, or putting it on. I don't remember, but
that's not important."
   "You saw her take her ear off. Ooh gross."
   "No, Cindy did."
   Niki laughed, "What? You asked your computer what she was
doing in the bathroom?"
   Mike paused, "Yeah."
   "Why?"
   "I was curious?"
   "Have you no shame? Guy, ya' won't be seeing me go to the
bathroom at your place no more."
   Mike laughed, "Oh, c'mon. Just one more time. I want to shoot
some pictures."
   She laughed, "No way, bud. So what happened then?"
   "She had to take off, but I'm sure she was there to check me
out."
   Niki nodded, "I'm sure she was too."
   "No. I mean for somebody else."
   "Heck Mike, everybody's after you. Me, an android, your
computer, now somebody else."
   "Oh, c'mon."
   "So where's Clay's real daughter?"
   "He doesn't have one."
   "You mean, Mrs. Clay gave birth to an android?"
   They both laughed.
   "Look, stop it. I want you to check up on her... and on Mr.
Clay."
   "I can't read an android."
   "Read Mr. Clay then. No! wait a mil, it was his niece, not his
daughter, his niece."
   She laughed, "You've really got your facts straight."
   "I was recovering from a hangover at the time."
   "Excuses. Excuses."
   They laughed and ordered some more milk.
   She began again, "So what about Fork. I mean, this could be a
dead end."
   "I'm fairly sure his mind was shot by one of those Imperial
mind scanners. They probably just decided to kill him."
   "Why?"
   "I dunno, and that's no lie."
   "What do we do?"
   "You do nothing."
   "Aw, c'mon. I wanna help."
   Mike refused, "No, they already know about you. I want you
where you can do some good. Clay doesn't know about you, and I've
got a suspicion he's tied up in this."
   "How's that?"
   "I think I remember seeing Robin, that's his niece's... I mean
android's name... I swear I remember seeing her down at the
medical center one of those times I visited Fork."
   "Then she'd know me."
   "Nope. You're not registered. I am. She wouldn't have any
reason to remember your face unless you spoke to her or
something, or unless you were registered with Galactic Press, and
you're not..."
   "Ya' don't think Mr. Linden would say anything about me?"
   "Nah, Chuck doesn't talk to Boardmembers. You're in the
clear."
   "What about you?" She knew the answer to that without asking.
   "I'll manage. Look, I'm gonna go home and grab a quick nap."
   "Liar."
   Mike smiled, "Look, I'll be okay. I promise. Come see me
tonight."
   "You mean next morning?"
   "Whenever. I'll see ya' later." He got up and headed toward
the exit.
   Niki put down her milk, "Be careful."
   "You too."
   Niki stayed at the table as the highbowls slowly rose to the
ceiling and coasted across the bar. From the opposite aisle a
burley man in a heavy, tan coat rubbed a lather of foam from his
moustache, his eyes scanning the morning headlines as they
scrolled across the surface of his table. In the background, she
heard a group of people laughing. Michael didn't want to be
followed. She glanced toward the escalator ramp and watched a
sprinkling of people zoom by, the cushion of propelled wind
whining where its outskirts met the stop-off. The bar seemed warm
and snug when compared with some of the other places she had been
recently; it was a good place to stay and pout. But not as good
as a boardmember's house. She smiled at the thought as she threw
on her wrapper.


_______________________________________________________________
I  Jim Vassilakos                       I  A rust monster...  I
I  University of California, Riverside  I    Run Awwaaay!!    I
I  [e-mail]                 I         :-)         I
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