Insective (Episode 7): New SF Noir by Mark Laporta
Case Files of Rolkahr Dholztra, Kuzdrohna Department of Public Safety:
[Editor’s Note: Read Episode 1, here.]
Guided by desperation alone, Dholztra struggled to keep Imogen balanced on “Celia’s” right shoulder, as the robotic unit ran around to the back of the massive HCBI bunker. Fortunately, the bunker had landed just one meter in front of a retaining wall at the back of Halfoorn’s compound. So for now, at least, his rear flank was covered.
The area behind the bunker was surprisingly clear of military personnel. Apparently, the fighting out in front was so intense that SWARM forces relied solely on sensor surveillance for security. Yet what little advantage that gave him was quickly dissipated by the large shell that landed only ten meters to his left and exploded with terrific force.
The blast toppled the already wobbly “Celia,” whose biomechanical knees had been jolted badly by the war-ravaged terrain she’d just crossed. In the wake of the explosion, Dholztra thought fast. He hoisted Imogen off the unit’s shoulders at the last minute, and shielded the fragile human with “Celia’s” carbon nanotube frame. Back at HCBI headquarters, his heart pounding, the detective forced himself to wait a moment longer to make sure no more rockets were headed Imogen’s way.
Only when he believed the immediate danger was past did he bring “Celia” back to her feet, a few inches from Imogen’s trembling body. Through the unit’s eyes, he saw that Imogen had finally regained consciousness.
“You OK?” he made the unit say.
“Should have left me to die with Nyles,” said the human. “Now I’m gonna die anyway — and all alone.”
“Come on,” Dholztra told her. “Let’s get inside the bunker. Once this is over….”
Imogen jumped to her feet.
“Don’t you get it?” she said. “This will never be over. I have to live with this memory the rest of my life.”
Dholztra’s harried mind riffled through its entire catalogue of consoling phrases. But his reverie was cut short by the creak of the bunker’s massive door — which slid open at its midsection to reveal an impatient HCBI agent.
“Craters,” said Grelek. “What’s the matter with you two? Get in here. The Belanthrese are too much for us. We’re pulling out.”
Relief washed over Dholztra’s exhausted mind as Grelek signaled a team of four SWARM soldiers to pull the two humanoids up into the bunker. Before the door had completely slammed shut behind them, the bunker’s powerful engines lifted the huge ship up and away from the battle scene. From the safety of the airborne HCBI substation, Dholztra wondered what would happen to the two battalions of Nolatrid soldiers they were leaving behind.
We’re just as bad as the humans, he thought
“What about Admiral Nethrez?” asked “Celia.”
“Latest intel says the lizards made a strafing run on LunarOne on their way down here,” said Grelek. “If there’s any good news, the Admiral will let us know with reinforcements. Until then, we’re on our own.”
“Well, here’s one cheery thought,” said the robotic unit. “Halfoorn is dead. Imogen saw to that before we arrived.”
“Please,” said the human. “Don’t talk about it. Can’t believe I actually murdered someone.”
“War’s different from murder,” said Grelek.
“How?” asked Imogen. “Halfoorn’s just as dead. I might be glad, but I’m definitely not proud of myself.”
“Give it time,” said “Celia.” As Dholztra knew from twenty-five years on the Kuzdrohna police force, the first kill was the hardest. How strange now to be nostalgic for a “simple” armed suspect, like the two he’d been forced to shoot down with his regulation pulse pistol.
In the distance, “Celia’s” eyes gave Dholztra a view of Jalinoor running toward them from the opposite side of the bunker’s command center. The agent’s breathless message was not reassuring.
“More Belanthrese landers arriving by the … by the minute,” he said.
“SWARM called up five battalions from Okthassia,” said Grelek, “but they won’t arrive until morning. We may have to consider the unthinkable.”
“Nucleonics?” asked Dholztra. “We won’t have a planet left to fight for.”
“No, never that,” said Grelek. “Nanobots. They’ve been banned by the Interstellar Council for two hundred cycles, but we may have no choice.”
The streetwise detective shuddered. As effective as a nanobot attack on the Belanthrese fleet might be, the collateral damage couldn’t be shrugged off as “the fortunes of war.” After the smoke cleared, or rather the data cloud, it might be decades before Nolatre re-emerged as a viable technological society. In the short term, by imposing a strict quarantine on its goods and services, the Interstellar Council would reduce this sovereign world to a bankrupt client state.
“Hey, if you don’t mind,” said Dholztra, “can you comlink me? Talking through a robot wears me out.”
The government agents complied and within minutes, the view screen in the conference room at HCBI headquarters in Kuzdrohna gave Dholztra access to real-time video and audio from the bunker. Once he was online, the conversation immediately turned back to tactics.
“Isn’t there another way besides nanobots?” asked Imogen. “My father told me that Earth used psychological warfare on its enemies.”
As she explained, the idea would be to find out what the Belanthrese feared most and then convince them it was actually happening.
“That might work,” said Jalinoor. “But these days, the only thing the lizards are afraid of is getting too cold. It slows their metabolism and throws them into hibernation.”
“What about a limited nanobot attack, then?” said Dholztra. “You know, target only the life support systems in their landers and encounter suits. If we get control of every Belanthrese thermal regulator, they’d have nowhere to hide from the cold.”
Agent Grelek nodded, then dialed up the HCBI’s remote tech center. After a few tense moments, he had his answer.
“CentralTech says it’s possible,” he said. “But we’re still not in the clear.”
Because nanobot warfare had been outlawed for so long, anyone inquiring about it was immediately under suspicion. As it stood, it was illegal for engineers and physicists to conduct further experiments with the devices. Though a subculture had kept the science alive behind closed doors, any nanobot expert who stepped forward would need and demand immunity from prosecution.
“That’s a lot of maneuvering in war time,” said Jalinoor. “The paperwork’s one thing, but if we can’t get through to Admiral Nethrez, I don’t even want to think about appealing to SWARM.”
“What appeal?” asked Grelek. “Get this through your head, Jalinoor. Neither the Admiral nor the antenna-twirlers in SWARM Admin can ever know about this. If we go nanobot, we go alone — and take all the heat.”
Jalinoor nodded and called up a list of underground programming cells on a secure connection.
“Understood,” he said. “But how do we decide whom to contact? Can’t just, you know, post a job notice.”
“Leave that to me,” said Grelek. “The less you know, the better. Focus on establishing a secure facility that’s stocked with whatever the nano-nerds need. And make sure it’s far away from the battle zone.”
“If this keeps up,” said Dholztra, “the whole planet will be a battle zone. I can’t believe how quiet Nolatre used to be. Couple of major crimes a year, tops.”
“I feel terrible,” said Imogen. “None of this would have happened without the invasion.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” said Grelek. “Guys like Halfoorn come along every fifty cycles or so. If it hadn’t been the invasion, he would have found some other opening. But, come on, let’s focus. Just having a plan isn’t enough. Not to mention, we don’t even know if it’ll work.”
As the bunker continued its flight south to the regional HCBI headquarters in the port city of Pelintherash, Grelek, Jalinoor and Imogen ran off to a secure conference room where they could continue planning, with Dholztra listening in from Kuzdrohna. Before they sat down, Grelek excused himself to make a private comlink connection.
“Still no word from LunarOne?” he asked, when he finally rejoined the others.
“Nothing,” said Jalinoor. “I think we can assume….”
“Assume nothing,” said Grelek. “But for now, we’re still punching above our weight class. Now it turns out the earliest our ‘technical advisors’ can produce a workable intrusive program is two rotations. The folks in aeronautics are already working on a microdrone delivery system, so that should buy us some time. But the way the Belanthrese are eating up our ground troops — and I hear we’re not doing that much better in the air — we can’t afford to wait. There has to be something we can do now.”
Jalinoor looked up from one of the computer screens embedded in the conference table.
“Maybe a propaganda blitz,” he said. “If it’s true that Halfoorn’s dead, we could work that bit of news into a demoralizing ‘Surrender Now’ holovid and flood their sensor array with it, 24/7.”
Grelek nodded.
“I’ll get the media team on it right away,” he said. “Imogen, would you deliver the news yourself and tell those lizards what a — pardon the expression — weak little human did to their First Citizen?”
“Why not?” asked Imogen. “I can’t fall any farther.”
For the next few hours, the airborne HCBI bunker was abuzz with excitement, as the Bureau rapidly relocated its central office. Once the bunker’s trajectory was finalized, Grelek arranged for a supersonic aircar to pick up Dholztra for an eventual rendezvous. At that point, Grelek’s immediate superior, Deputy Director Lotrianka pulled him aside.
“Agent Grelek, really,” said Lotrianka. “Why do we need a broken-down ward detective on this case? This guy … Dholztra? … he’s never even made Chief Inspector.”
Despite the sudden spike in his internal temperature, Grelek kept his voice even.
“Sir, with respect, we owe this whole investigation to the Detective,” he said. “He’s the one who tipped us off to Olithcraz’ schemes. Without his help, Halfoorn would still be alive.”
“And who authorized that execution?” asked Lotrianka. “I’ll tell you: no one. You’ve gone way out of bounds, Grelek. When this investigation is over we’ll hold a thorough inquiry.”
“Deputy Director,” said Grelek, “if we survive this investigation, the only question the Bureau will ask is how Halfoorn built his crazy empire right under your nose. You want an inquiry? Write that up and I’ll submit it to SWARM personally. Just be sure to attach your receipts.”
Lotrianka stared, mandibles open, as Grelek stormed out of the bunker’s command center.
Meanwhile, the battle for control of Kuzdrohna intensified, and the Belanthrese launched a space-based attack on key installations all across Nolatre. But if Nolatrid officials were expecting a surgical strike, they were sadly mistaken. As the damage to residential areas sent civilians scrambling for cover in the planet’s age-old bomb shelters, the initial skirmish metastasized into a planet-wide disaster.
It was in this climate of panic that the HCBI’s flying bunker touched down in Pelintherash. Imogen was startled to see the city’s police force out in strength to keep fleeing citizens away from the service’s gated compound. As she learned later, recent sightings of a second, unknown space fleet had made emotions flare up even faster than before.
“Could they be the ships Halfoorn was warned about?” she asked, when they were safely inside the compound. Without Dholztra there, who was still enroute, Imogen almost regretted her blurted question. For the two HCBI agents were taken aback and struggled not to accuse her of concealing evidence. But she was quick to report Epilosaah’s words of caution.
“They thought the ships might be a data ghost,” she said. “Whatever that means.”
“It means the mystery fleet must have been several folds out of optimal sensor range,” said Grelek. “Did Halfoorn’s flunky say anything else?”
When Imogen recounted that Halfoorn had extended an invitation to Earth, and that the data ghost had appeared soon after, Grelek decided that the timing was too close for coincidence. He slammed his hands down onto Jalinoor’s shoulders.
“Compile all data on the specs for the Human ships,” he said, “and run a cross check. If there’s a chance this is the human fleet, we need to know ASAP.”
“Right,” said Jalinoor. “By the way, shouldn’t the Detective be here by now?”
But Grelek was engrossed in his comlink, as he tried to get an update on his clandestine nanobot team. For the moment, Dholztra was the farthest thing from his mind. It might have been just as well, for the Detective’s supersonic air car was experiencing technical difficulties.
At first, Dholztra thought nothing of what appeared to be classic atmospheric turbulence. When that familiar rocking sensation was joined by a high pitched whine and followed shortly thereafter by a horrific grinding sound, the air car’s sole passenger reached for its intercom.
“What’s going on up there?” he called out. Come to think of it, although Grelek hadn’t specified that this was an autocar, Dholztra now realized that he’d rushed into his compartment without giving the pilot a thought, much less stopping by the cabin to say “hello.” Either way, his reverie was cut short by the realization that the car had become eerily quiet as if….
The forty-something Nolatrid felt his stomach heave from a sudden shift in his center of gravity — as the air car began plummeting down through the clouds.
“Pilot!” he yelled. “Pull up!”
His pleas were greeted by a deep chuckle that echoed out over the car’s intercom.
“You’re pathetic,” said an equally deep voice. “A veteran detective who doesn’t even check out his ride before strapping in. And don’t pretend that trusting the HCBI is any excuse. Used to be, you trusted no one.”
“Like you’d know,” said Dholztra. “So what, anyway? Whoever you are, if you’re working for Halfoorn’s outfit you have nowhere to hide from your own failings.”
“Comet gas,” said the voice. “Where’s a film crew when you need one? That could’ve been a scene in a feature holovid — or even a hologame, though I doubt many parents would let their kids play with a scruffy reprobate like you.”
“Can you get to the point, whoever you are?” said Dholztra. “I’m running out of time.”
“So you are,” said the voice. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. We used to have rather enjoyable conversations, you and I, back in your precinct office. I’d miss that.”
Dholztra’s antennae stuck straight up.
“Halfoorn?” he asked.
“In a sense,” said the voice. “Only now we meet for real. So far, you’ve been dealing with my cyber proxies. The one at my compound was especially convincing, I think you’ll agree.”
“Right,” said the detective. “Now I’m convinced you’re insane.”
“A sharp wit, even in the face of danger,” said the voice. “So much talent wasted on grubby police work. Really, Rolkahr. Just say the word and I can elevate you to the position in life you deserve.”
Dholztra’s multifaceted eyes caught a glimpse out of the nearest window — of the planet rushing up toward him at alarming speed.
“Mind explaining that?” he said. “Why would you, of anyone in the three galaxies, want to keep me around?”
The voice let out a soul-withering sigh.
“I can’t expect you to understand,” it said. “But the fact is, the upper echelons of a new world order are a lonely place. Being surrounded by eager subordinates, and all that that implies, is a fleeting comfort. I lack the true companionship of a near-equal — if only to bounce ideas off from time to time.”
“I’m touched,” said Dholztra, “but unless you elevate this vehicle, pronto, the only thing you’ll be bouncing is me — right off the pavement.”
“Tsk, tsk,” said the voice. “The way you underestimate me … I have to say, it hurts. To think that I would ever dream of wasting a state-of-the-art air craft on a SWARM lackey.”
With that, the scene out of Dholztra’s window changed. His breath came up short at the sight of a massive gateway opening up in the ground below. The air car’s engines kicked in hard and the sudden breaking effect snapped his head back into his chair. Eyes wide, he watched the car being swallowed up in the yawning maw of a vast subterranean stronghold.
Surrounded by darkness, he tried to settle his racing mind. Whatever plan Halfoorn had in store for him would be revealed in good time. The experienced detective forced himself to search for identifying marks that would pinpoint the stronghold’s location for the HCBI. Assuming, that is, they’d survived the Belanthran onslaught. But that depressing thought, he decided, was off topic — and the only topic was staying alive long enough to escape.
The HCBI air car alit on a broad. circular landing pad. Dholztra’s seat belt and shoulder straps clicked open on their own, as did the side door to his left. Knowing full well that it was either walk out of the car or be dragged out, he made his best show of saving face and strode into the immense landing bay with his head held high. He didn’t have to wait long before he was approached by a dark green android with an unusual ovoid design.
In spite of himself, Dholztra stared at the unit admiringly. In place of legs, treads or rollers, it floated on what Dholztra would have assumed was a maglev cushion, if it weren’t for the absence of the standard composite tiles used in cargo bays and factory floors across the three galaxies to generate the required e-mag field.
Lost in thought, Dholztra jumped back nearly half a meter at the voice from the air car, which seemed to emanate from speakers on all sides of him.
“Gravity modulation is just one of the many gifts I plan to share with your backward people,” said the voice. “Provided, of course, you’ll stop this foolish resistance.”
Despite his fury, Dholztra resisted the urge to engage this … being … in a war of words. Instead, he forced his fear-worn legs forward to explore his surroundings. There had to be a weakness in this underground structure that he could exploit to his advantage — if only to broadcast a homing signal to the outside world.
“The detective at work,” said the voice. “Inspiring. But you must get out of the habit — however it may be supported by casual observation — that you’re the only intelligent mind in the room. The android to your right will now conduct you to a sterile transfer station, where your consciousness will be uploaded into our systems. After that, you’re free to go. While I have no need to kill you, I also have no need to give you free room and board.”
“My ‘consciousness’?” asked the weary detective. “What are you talking about?”
But try as he might, Dholztra’s stalling tactics failed. The android’s gentle but firm hand on his arm told him he would either comply voluntarily or by force.
“Please don’t concern yourself,” said the voice. “I’m simply completing the work that idiot Olithcraz neglected to carry out instead of pontificating. That’s my dilemma. Imagine trying to revolutionize society with a gaggle of associates who, at best, are suited only for the petty intrigues of local politics. You, however, have the rare quality of mind I need to institute my reforms on a galactic scale.”
“You know, it’s a funny thing,” said Dholztra, “I’m not the least bit flattered.”
The detective looked up to see that the android had led him to a parabolic archway blocked by a pair of sliding doors. The android entered a command string into a keypad on the threshold and the doors whooshed open, to reveal an impressive, high-ceilinged facility in brilliant white with chrome accents. Dholztra’s lower mandible dropped at the sight of the intricate array of computer systems and the bustling staff of Nolatrid and Belanthrese operatives who tended them.
Nudged forward by the stubborn android, Dholztra plopped down into a stark, white chair that wouldn’t have been out of place in the cockpit of a military assault ship. Within seconds, he was strapped in and helpless, as the chair’s back tilted a good ninety degrees, until he was lying flat. His heart racing, he watched as an ominous sphere floated over from an unknown location to cover his head.
This is it, he thought. Didn’t even get to see Treldraah one more….
From that point on, for the next twelve hours, conscious thought was impossible. Much later, he’d have the distinct memory of being in two places at once, with each version of himself able to perceive the other in a mental hall of mirrors.
Nice life, his other self seemed to say at some point. But there was nothing to be done about that now. In one fateful day, all his years of striving to uphold justice and the rule of law came to nothing, as his powerful mind would now and forever be in the service of the galaxy’s greatest evil.
When the process was complete, the android wheeled the semi-conscious detective into a holding cell, where he eventually awoke, groggy and disoriented. Soon the chair returned him to a seated position and the straps that bound him came undone automatically.
“Good morning,” said the voice. “You will now be escorted to an air car, which will take you to a local hotel, where you may stay as long as you like, with my complements. Within its confines, you will be safe, come what may. Venture out of it, and you will be subject to the ravages of the battles to come. The choice is yours.”
“What’s it to you whether I live or die?” asked Dholztra.
“Now that you’ve so callously rejected my offer of friendship, it’s immaterial,” said the voice. “However, should my system need refreshing at some point, having you close at hand would save me the bother of retrieving you again.”
Dholztra shook his head.
“Forget it,” he said. “Just let me out of here.”
The echoing laughter that followed grew from a deep, quiet rumble into an ear-splitting cacophony.
“Have it your way,” the voice said at last.
A massive scraping sound startled Dholztra as, to his left, a gigantic side panel opened to the outside world. The determined detective raced out of the complex and into a searing expanse of desert. Faster than he would have thought possible, the huge panel slammed shut again with a loud clang.
“Enjoy the weather, you fool,” said the voice.
Dholztra stared out at the desolate landscape in front of him. How in the craters of LunarOne, he wondered, would he ever survive in this hostile environment?
(To be continued – Read Episode 8)
Mark Laporta is the acclaimed author of the Changing Hearts of Ixdahan Daherek series and the new novel, Probability Shadow, which was published in October by Chickadee Prince Books, available now in paperback or ebook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or at a bookstore near you.
Design by Steven S. Drachman, from an original image from Jeremy Cai, Unsplash.
Case Files of Rolkahr Dholztra, Kuzdrohna Department of Public Safety: