The Gun Golems (Approaching Infinity Book 2) Page 17

  “I’m sorry that I’m late,” Kalkin said. “I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

  Ren shook his head nervously, not in the habit of receiving apologies from those who outranked him. “No, not at all. I was just about to start. Vays is. . .?”

  “Not coming. You’ll have to excuse him today, Director.”

  “It’s not a problem. He can be briefed later.”

  Kalkin smiled and the look on his face conveyed genuine thanks.

  Ren called over his shoulder, “Esparza!”

  “Yes, sir!” a voice replied from somewhere unseen.

  The lights dimmed and several holographic screens took shape, bathing everyone in a video glow.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Ren said, stepping towards a screen that showed a jump deck. “You should all know by now why I asked you here. Let me set the stage, though, show you what we have so far so you can make your own determinations about how dangerous the situation really is.

  “At 2319 last night, two Hospital 4 nurses, Jilin Samas and Kara Elkar, boarded the 48Q1 personnel jump deck. Have, uh, any of you heard the rumors regarding that deck?”

  “You mean that it’s haunted?” Abanastar offered.

  Ren nodded. “There have been several reports about that deck, going back several weeks: people feeling uneasy, feeling like they were being watched, like they were trapped, like they couldn’t breathe. It was only one out of every twenty or thirty trips—it’s a low-traffic deck—and it never actually malfunctioned. . . until last night.

  “Upon engaging the deck, there was a spectacular short which resulted in this,” Ren said, indicating the screen.

  From the perspective of the corridor security camera fixed to the ceiling, the Shades watched Jilin Samas and Kara Elkar enter the 48Q1 jump deck and choose their destination. The deck lights flared, went dark, then from within the deck burst out a spray of blood and ragged chunks of meat and gristle accompanied by an intermittent fountain of sparks. Seconds later, one nurse, then the other came slip-sliding out of the deck, screaming noiselessly and trying frantically to flee, but being almost comically stymied by the slick overflow spilled out on the corridor floor.

  Ren continued as the video cycled through an endless loop. “Even with the degree of violence done to the victim, there would have been more than enough genetic material to make an ID—except that all of the material was corrupted.”

  “Corrupted?” Jav said shaking his head.

  Barson beat Ren to the explanation. “That’s what happens when a Shade’s Artifact is destroyed, total disruption at the genetic level. That is what you meant, isn’t it, Director?”

  “Yes.”

  “But even the destruction of one’s Artifact wouldn’t account for the condition that. . .” Barson watched the red mess erupt from the jump deck again. He gulped and resumed, “. . .that body is in.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Ren agreed. He walked back to the table, picked up the box, and pulled back the lid, exposing the contents: three cracked pieces of a strange, brownish cog that would easily fit in the palm of one’s hand. “The clean-up crew found these lodged in the deck walls.”

  Jav looked at the fragments but didn’t understand.

  Abanastar started breathing heavily, looking back and forth from the fragments to Ren. He started to shake his head more and more vigorously and Jav was aware for the first time in a long time that it wasn’t Abanastar’s voice but his mind everyone heard. Jav was aware of this because of how differently he now heard the general. The “voice” was small, weak, and higher pitched than Jav remembered, but was so essentially Abanastar as to be unmistakable. He just kept repeating the word “no” over and over again.

  Barson sighed and shook his head; Tia held onto and comforted Brin at her side; Kalkin squeezed his eyes shut as if to block the truth of what was in the box.

  Jav looked around the room and saw that even Elza seemed to grasp the importance of those little brown pieces. As Ren set the box back down on the table, Jav scanned everyone’s face, searching for an answer, but then it occurred to him who besides Vays was missing. It was the one person whom everyone in the room besides Ren and himself could call “teacher”.

  Elza moved up next to Jav and spoke softly, confirming what he had already guessed, “That was the Gate Crown, Professor Cranden’s Artifact.”

  Jav swallowed hard, nodding. Mont Cranden: the man who sealed away the Ritual Mask, enabling Jav to train without the risk of harming or killing his friends. Mont Cranden: one of the most powerful and variously gifted psychics the Empire had ever known. Dead. More than dead. But it was impossible, wasn’t it? They were safe. They were on their way, moving through space at faster than light speed. What could match their speed, find its way in without being detected, and do to Cranden what it did without raising a single alarm?

  Abanastar stepped forward as if about to appeal to Ren for a return from what must be insanity. Ren ignored him, moved past another screen filled with personnel files, and regarded a third screen.

  “I know that this is unbelievable,” Ren said, “but there’s more to show before you start asking questions that I can’t answer yet.

  “Using the reports on that deck and going back through the camera logs, we came across this footage.”

  The screen showed the date to be 10688.199, the time 2318. Easily identifiable, Cranden passed under the lens of the camera and into the 48Q1 personnel deck. Before he could select his destination, someone from off camera caught his attention. It was clearly someone he knew, perhaps someone he hadn’t seen in a while or someone he hadn’t expected to see. The figure of a man passed under the camera and appeared to gain permission to join Cranden in the deck, but the man’s head was obscured in the queerest fashion. The top of his head was like a fisheye mirror that only reflected Cranden’s face and distorted it in a way that did nothing but inspire dread. Regardless of where the man was in relation to the camera, Cranden’s twisted reflection was always visible in the top of the other man’s head.

  As he stepped up into the deck, he took Cranden’s hand and shook it. Then in the span of two seconds, while the two men stood there with their hands clasped, several things happened. The look of mild pleasure at meeting an old acquaintance drained from Cranden’s face completely; the acquaintance turned his head to face the camera and though the bulb of his forehead continued to show Cranden’s misshapen reflection with something like terror now developing, below the mirror effect was a decidedly malicious, angular smile of unnatural proportions that was displayed solely for the benefit of the camera. Without looking away from the camera, the acquaintance reached for the deck controls and as Cranden was about to cry out, the two were gone from sight.

  Ren took a deep breath. “That’s it.”

  “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” Barson spat.

  “I mean that’s it,” Ren answered, unperturbed. “The deck log shows that the destination for that trip was 17Q3 but the 17Q3 logs show no completed circuit. Nothing on the security camera, either. We had our staff object readers go over the deck, but the residual feedback knocked one unconscious and put another right up in Hospital 4. I didn’t risk having the same happen to the third. Based on what we found in the deck last night, though, we’ve put together a theory at least as to what might have happened to Professor Cranden.

  “I think that at some point right before, during, or after the jump a fantastic struggle took place, that Professor Cranden used his vaults in an attempt to protect himself and may have been at least partially successful. I think that in this struggle Professor Cranden was overwhelmed and his Artifact was damaged, cracked maybe. I don’t know how even one of his vaults could have been maintained all this time, but I think he was trapped in there, probably very near death, that finally last night the interplay between the deck’s warp field every time it was activated and the weakening Gate Crown caused the vault and the Crown itself to break.”

  “Do you have any proof to support y
our theory?” Tia asked, her tone slightly antagonistic.

  Ren stared at Tia for a moment, then at Brin who looked like a child in the crook of her arm, and he snorted. “Proof? Of course not. Everyone around here’s been pretty busy over the last eight hours putting this together for you. We’re still inquiring, but I believe it may be safe to assume that Professor Cranden has been in that jump deck for thirty-eight days. Have any of you seen him in the last month? “

  Tia shrugged, unable to do anything more than that.

  Abanastar placed both hands upon the table for support. “Thirty-eight days. Thirty-eight days. How do we miss that he’s gone for thirty-eight days?”

  No one said anything. No one could.

  After a moment, Ren cleared his throat and moved back to the screen with the personnel records. “These are all the psychics currently residing in the Root Palace. It is, of course, possible that our assailant is a sleeper, someone who didn’t go through Locsard, and though Professor Cranden appeared to recognize him, we can’t be sure that that recognition was genuine. With no other leads as yet, we plan to question every psychic under controlled conditions.”

  “Controlled?” Barson said, suppressing a laugh. “Do you have any idea what kind of power we’re talking about?”

  “I know that it must necessarily exceed Cranden’s Dark RMP of a hundred and ten thousand,” Ren answered coolly. “And that it’s likely much greater than that, since Cranden was well-versed in psychic combat and was not without defensive techniques.”

  Barson shook his head and changed the subject. “How many full telepaths do you have on staff?”

  “The only two currently in the Palace.”

  “And how many psychics are we looking at?”

  “Including everyone in this room, a hundred and thirty-seven.”

  Brin narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to have us questioned?”

  Ren smirked. “Don’t tell me you feel violated? You? This is Minister Witchlan’s order. If you have any questions or concerns, you should take them up with him. Don’t worry, Brin. No embarrassing questions, I promise.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Kalkin asked.

  “I’d like to set up two or perhaps three stations here at headquarters. Mr. Kalkin I would like you and Jav to monitor one station. Mr. Barson, I’d like you to join me monitoring the second station. If, after her questioning, Brin is amenable, I would like to request her to run a third station with Vays and Elza monitoring. Mr. Abanastar, I would like you to be available to float between stations, assisting if necessary. Miss Winn, I believe that with your power, you may also be able to contribute to some degree. Since you and Brin are not exactly suited to the task, if you would like to alternate at the third station, your help would be welcome.”

  Tia nodded, all sense of antagonism now gone.

  “It’s your show,” Barson said. “But don’t you think going about it this way and having us monitor is too little too late?”

  “What else can we do? There’s no way to keep an operation of this size secret and news of the haunted, gore-filled jump deck has undoubtedly already spread throughout the Palace. And a psychic of this caliber is sure to know, to have at least calculated, what we’ll do.

  “Minister Witchlan will have Public Relations & Standards spin Cranden’s death as an accident. We’ll make an appeal to everyone’s grief and concern. Since we’re all particularly vulnerable while the Palace is in transit, we can’t afford accidents like this, and we need help making sure that there are no more. The interviews can be conducted in a way that won’t raise suspicion, especially with Brin’s help and the PR&S. Any resistance is a potential lead.”

  Ren pursed his lips, caught by the sharp leer below Cranden’s disquieting, pinched face as the scene played out once again. “Besides, I’m counting on a certain degree of ego, Mr. Barson. Those conducting the interviews will of course be in danger, but I can offer most of you who will be monitoring a psi blocker like this one.” Ren held his blocker up to show them.

  “Most of us?” Barson said.

  “Yes,” Ren answered, lowering his eyes. “I’m afraid that these devices begin to lose their effectiveness as one’s Raw Mental Power increases. A psi blocker will actually begin to reduce an RMP of three thousand five hundred or more.” He looked around the room, unconsciously pausing as his eyes met Brin’s and then he quickly looked away. “I would like to offer all of you some guarantee of safety, but I think you know that that’s not possible.”

  • • •

  Brin’s first official duty with the Public Relations & Standards Division was to announce that Professor Mont Cranden, former General of the Viscain Empire was dead due to misadventure. A small memorial service was held. Besides Shades, most of the Palace’s resident psychics attended, the guest list being limited to colleagues and former students. It was a somber affair that began and ended without incident, ironic since the attendees were the only real suspects.

  • • •

  The interviews, too, proceeded without incident. It turned out that using Tia’s Keepsake Cameo was ultimately effective, but took too long. As a result, Brin took over and worked the third station exclusively. She didn’t show it outwardly, but she was actually rather pleased to be able to help Ren and his investigation. She didn’t know if her powers would have the slightest effect on Cranden’s assailant should she happen to interview him herself, but there was little else to be done and at least she could do this.

  Each station was processing three to four subjects a day. The work of a true telepath—sorting through the vast and unorganized tangle of a stranger’s thoughts—required constant concentration and was exhausting. They were supposed to finish by the end of 10688.253, which gave them fifteen days to go through all one hundred and thirty-seven psychics.

  Even with the protection of the Kaiser Bones and a psi blocker, Jav wondered if he would really be able to do anything if the assailant was discovered during an interview. He had an above average Raw Mental Power rating of five hundred, which, when augmented by the Kaiser Bones and then the psi blocker, gave him a rating of about one million. It sounded high. But Jav knew very well that technique could have put Cranden’s numbers well above his own. One million was probably sufficient. Probably. Still, he knew he was better off than some of his fellows, especially the interviewers. He didn’t envy them.

  When Jav wasn’t worrying, the unassuming people coming in to be interviewed constantly surprised him. There were calculators, navigators, remote viewers, clairaudients, low-level electrokinetics, and more. Most of them had positions within various Imperial Divisions; some of them were just regular people trying to make a living on the ever-moving frontier. None of them looked like killers and none of them had a Raw Mental Power rating of more than fifteen hundred. Jav guessed that their numbers could be faked, but he tried to put that out of his mind.

  Two weeks into their interviews, they were nearly finished for the day when Lara Bester arrived at police headquarters. She was flushed and smiling and early for her appointment with Ren. In the lobby she met Jav and Kalkin.

  “Are you sparring tonight?” Jav asked.

  “No,” she said, laughing a little nervously, “not tonight.”

  Brin, Vays, and Elza emerged with a little old man who had just finished his interview. Elza escorted the man out while Vays approached Kalkin.

  “You’re free to go, Vays,” Kalkin said.

  “Thank you, sir.” Vays made eye contact with Jav and nodded. “Jav.” Then with an effort, he did the same with Lara. “Miss Bester.”

  Vays got to the inner doors as Elza was returning and said to Brin, “Coming?”

  “I’ll be along shortly,” she replied.

  He nodded and left.

  Elza joined Jav, Kalkin, and Lara. Brin remained where she was, watching with her arms folded.

  “Lara, it’s good to see you,” Elza said.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Elza.”

  “I do
n’t suppose you came here for all of us, though,” Elza gave her a sly, sideways grin. “You’re here for the boss, aren’t you?”

  Lara turned an even brighter shade of red and couldn’t bring herself to answer.

  “Leave her alone, Elza. You’re just jealous,” Jav said.

  “I might be,” Elza said.

  “Elza,” Kalkin spoke up, “you’re off duty now, so, regardless of what Jav says, you are free to tease your friends as you see fit.

  “Jav, I’ll see you later. Miss Bester,” Kalkin said, smiling reassuringly, “it’s always a pleasure.” He turned to Brin and, given pause by her aloof behavior, addressed her hesitantly on his way out.

  Their casual conversation preceding them, Ren, Barson, the police telepath, and Ty Karr came into the lobby.

  Ty Karr hadn’t been assigned to his station, so Jav had forgotten to expect the head of the Cultural Studies Division. “Director Karr. I trust you haven’t been mistreated,” Jav said, smiling and extending a hand.

  “Mr. Holson,” Karr said as the two shook hands. “No, no, I’ve been treated very well, thank you.” He, too, was smiling but his face quickly darkened. “It is a terrible tragedy that has befallen Professor Cranden. I only wish there was something I could do, some way that I could help.”

  “Perhaps there is, Director,” Ren said.

  “Oh? And what is that, Director Fauer?”

  “Your RMP is higher than all three of my object readers.”

  “It can’t be higher by much.”

  “No, not by much, but it is higher and you have years more experience than any of my staff. I certainly wouldn’t want any harm to come to you, but we may request your aid in reading the crime scene.”