The Surrana Identity Read online

  THE SURRANA IDENTITY

  Brent Bolster Space Detective

  by

  Michael Campling

  Brent Bolster Book III

  This book is dedicated to all fans of Douglas Adams. May your crisis inducer be forever hidden beneath your towel.

  With Special Thanks to the JIT Team:

  Janette Mattey

  Steve Frederick

  Saundra Wright

  Josie Ingle-Vail.

  Your help was invaluable in improving this book.

  Thank you.

  Michael Campling

  michaelcampling.com

  I would rather have questions that can't be answered than answers that can't be questioned.

  -Richard P. Feynman.

  Table of Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Indulge Your Inner Awkward Streak

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Time to be Awkward

  Coming Soon

  Also by Michael Campling

  About the Author

  Copyright

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  On Earth

  At Bolster & Associates Investigations:

  Brent Bolster – PI and member of the Association of Galactic Investigators(AGI)

  Rawlgeeb – Gloabon and Ex-employee of the Earth Liaison Unit (ELU)

  Vince Claybourne – Assistant to Brent (AGI Membership Pending)

  Algernon – A fish who lives in an upturned diving helmet.

  Other Humans:

  Doctor Ellen Granger – Scientist, formerly employed by GIT

  Maisie Richmond – A researcher employed by the UN

  Mrs. Albertoni - A lady who lives above Brent’s office / part-time fish minder and possible owner of real estate on Pluto.

  At GIT – the Gloabon Institute of Technology - an Earth institution funded by the Gloabons:

  Doctor Herbert Cooper – Scientist

  Rachel White – Receptionist / owl keeper

  Bobby - Receptionist

  Mark Halbrook – Head of Acquisitions

  Greta Markham - Researcher

  Donny Pendleton - Research Assistant

  Captain Levinson – Special Operations Wing

  Sergeant Carter – Special Operations Wing.

  Artificially Intelligent Entities with Independent Identities:

  On The Wasp:

  JCN-B1 - The main artificial intelligence of the ship

  Dee - The AI in control of the Delta Wave Generator

  Nina - The AI in charge of navigation

  Clive - The AI responsible for the drinks machine.

  The Gloabons

  On The Gamulon:

  Breamell – Administrator (Sampling Records)

  Fleet Admiral Squernshall – Commanding Officer.

  On Krisk:

  Grawk – A black marketeer, former officer on The Gamulon.

  On Earth:

  Surrana – Member of the Guild of Assassins.

  On Unregistered Vessel:

  Kadov - Member of the Hak Garamm, an elite faction of the Guild of Assassins.

  Andelians

  Officers and crew of The Kreltonian Skull:

  Admiral Norph – Previous Commanding Officer (deceased)

  Captain Stanch – Commanding Officer

  Commander Xander - First Officer

  Lieutenant Commander Zeb – Science Officer and cybonic lifeform

  Lieutenant Commander Dex – Chief Engineer

  Lieutenant Turm – Senior Navigation Officer

  Lieutenant Helkon - Junior Science Officer

  Ensign Chudley – Communications Officer

  Ensign Lachenko - Engineering

  Officer Cadet Nailsea – Former Chef

  Officer Cadet Cricklade – Former Chef

  Grulb – Barman and former Ship’s Counselor.

  On The Giblet - A Coalition Minesweeper:

  Captain Drumph - Commanding Officer

  Lieutenant Commander Zeb – Science Officer and cybonic lifeform

  Lieutenant Commander Dex – Chief Engineer.

  Kreitians

  Lord Pelligrew – Commanding Officer of The Star of Kreit, Pelligrew commands the Andel-Kreit Fleet.

  On The Twang - A Commercial Salvage Vessel:

  Captain Planjer - Commanding Officer

  Hamphrey - First Officer

  Larts - Medical Officer (deceased)

  Yackal - Crew

  Queex - Crew

  Wurnzig - Crew.

  The Awkward Squad - The Home of Picky Readers:

  All Members Get a Free Starter Library & Much More

  CHAPTER 1

  Kreitian Salvage Vessel The Twang

  Mars Orbit

  Peering at his console’s display screen, Captain Planjer wrinkled his nose. “We might have something here. Hamphrey, take a look at sector 3A1.”

  “Hm?” Across the bridge, Hamphrey looked up from his handset. “Did you say something, chief? I was concentrating. Looking over some figures.”

  “Nonsense,” Planjer grunted. “The only figures on your mind are the dames in those trashy novels. Just once, maybe you could put your damned book away and at least try to look like the first officer on this ship.”

  Hamphrey sat up straight, brandishing his handset. “There’s nothing trashy about The Gloabon Always Zings Twice. It’s instructional.” He tossed his handset onto the console. “Anyway, I need something to occupy my mind. We’ve been floating around this rock for days, and there’s nothing left to salvage. We must’ve scooped up every satellite and hunk of scrap around the whole planet.”

  “Are you done yet?” Planjer demanded. “Quit whining and check the goddamned monitor. It looks like we’re picking up a coil signature. Could be a nice hunk of engine. Who knows? It might even be in one piece. Check sector 3A1. You’re the expert…supposedly.”

  “All right, keep your wrinkles on. It’s probably nothing.” Hamphrey wiped his display screen with his sleeve, grumbling under his breath. “Goddamned grease all over the place. I told Yackal not to eat lunch at my station, but he never listens. He doesn’t even…oh.” He squinted at his display. “Yes, that’s a good coil signature, and the thermal pattern indicates an engine. Switching to visual.” He dragged his fingers over the screen, rotating the image and adjusting the magnification. “There’s some debris…quite a small cluster, so I’d guess it came from an abandoned shuttle or something like that. Going by the dispersal pattern, I’d say it must’ve broken up recently. If we act fast, we can get to the good stuff before it spreads out. Although, we should wait for a second and let the analyzer finish its cycle.” He
scratched at the wrinkles on his chin. “Hold on. That’s…no, it can’t be.” He looked up at Planjer, his eyes wide. “I’m getting life signs. There’s someone out there. A survivor. No pod. Nothing but a suit. And somehow, they’re alive.”

  “Grab them with the tractor beam. Quick.”

  “Already on it.” Hamphrey didn’t look up. The tip of his tongue darted between his lips as he focused on his console. “Gotcha!” He shot Planjer a meaningful look. “Captain, I know we have to help this poor sap, but I’d advise caution.”

  Planjer’s only reply was to touch the intercom stud on his collar. “All hands! All hands to the loading bay. Full suits. Quarantine protocol. We’re bringing someone in.”

  “So much for caution,” Hamphrey muttered unhappily. “Captain, it could be anyone. Anything.”

  “Are you questioning my orders?” Planjer studied his first officer. “No, I thought not. Now, get yourself down to the loading bay. And take as much medical kit as you can carry.”

  Hamphrey stood slowly. “But, I’m not qualified. Larts would’ve known what to do, but–”

  “Larts is dead,” Planjer interrupted, “and since I need to stay on the bridge, you’ll have to attend. You’re the only other officer with a heartbeat, so go down there and deal with the situation. Use your judgment. Earn your salary.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Hamphrey hurried to the door without a backward glance.

  “Don’t forget to suit up,” Planjer called after him. “And keep an eye on the crew. Don’t let them take any liberties.” The door whirred shut, hiding the retreating figure of Hamphrey from view, and the captain started work, calling up the tractor beam control panel on his console. He cast a wary eye over the screen’s blurry image, pursing his lips as the tiny figure was dragged ever closer by the tractor beam’s invisible tendrils. Just doing my duty, he thought. But Hamphrey was right: bringing a stranger on board could mean all kinds of trouble. The paperwork alone would take hours. Heaving a sigh, he switched the tractor beam to automatic. He may as well get started on the formalities.

  The captain’s fingers hovered over his keypad. His first job was to report the incident to the nearest Andel-Kreit Coalition command post, in this case, The Sherbida, the Gloabon space station orbiting Mars. But Planjer held back from opening a channel. They’ll launch an official inquiry, he thought. They’ll send in the JADI. A muscle cramped in his belly. The old health and safety scrutineers had been bad enough, but the newly formed JADI, the Gloabon Judicial and Administrative Directorate Inspectors, were rumored to be so much worse. In a bar on Io station, Planjer had heard tales of inquiries that had dragged on for weeks, with goods impounded and ships confined to space dock while they were checked down to the last weld and rivet. And the JADI’s last community outreach program was widely believed to be the cause of an ongoing feud between rival gangs of heavily armed mining operators in the asteroid belt.

  Planjer’s hand crept away from the console. He’d served his time in the Kreitian fleet, back in the days before the coalition, and his military experience had schooled him well in the surprisingly subtle art of following orders. But his years as a civilian, captain of his own small vessel, had taught him a different but very valuable lesson: giving a badge to a bureaucrat was like arming a devil moose with a Killzoid on the first day of hunting season; sooner or later, there’d be blood, and possibly, a small war.

  I really should play this by the book, he told himself. But given the circumstances, I get to choose the book. Planjer nodded thoughtfully, and when his intercom beeped, he pressed the stud without hesitation, his mind made up. “Go ahead.”

  “Queex here, Captain. I’m in the loading bay with Wurnzig and Yackal. We’re standing by.”

  “Are you suited up?”

  “Aye, Captain,” Queex replied. “We were working in the cargo bay, so we were prepped already.”

  “Okay. Hamphrey will be with you in a minute. Follow his orders. To the letter.”

  There was a short pause before Queex replied. “Of course, Captain. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Another pause. “Captain, this survivor or whatever, I’d better search the guy thoroughly as soon as he comes in. We’ll need to check him out, and he ought to be carrying some ID.”

  “No. He’s going to be in bad shape, so he’ll need medical attention first and foremost. We can worry about identifying him later.” Planjer hardened his voice. “That means you’d better keep your hands out of his pockets, Queex. If this person wakes up missing a wallet, I’ll know where to look.”

  “Captain, that’s a terrible–”

  “Save it,” Planjer interrupted. “I’m about to open the bay doors and bring the poor devil inside. As soon as that’s done, I’m taking us out of orbit, so be ready.”

  Hamphrey’s voice came over the intercom. “Captain? Where are we headed?”

  “That’s for me to know,” Planjer shot back. “I’ll brief you all later.”

  “Captain, with respect–” Hamphrey began, but Planjer didn’t give him the chance.

  “Focus on your task, Hamphrey. Do what you can to help the survivor. That’s all. Planjer out.” He cut the channel, his fingers already flicking over his console. There’s more than one way to skin an ice squid, he thought as he opened the nav display to lay in a new course. And I know a man with a very large knife. He smiled at his own metaphorical flourish, his eye lingering on the tractor beam’s display, and right on cue, the status changed from Loading to Sequence Complete.

  A quick check of the loading bay’s cameras confirmed that the job was done; the white-suited figure lay unmoving on the deck, Queex securing the survivor with webbing while Hamphrey kneeled down to one side, leaning in close. Planjer’s intercom beeped, and he accepted the call.

  “Captain,” Hamphrey said, his voice strained, “it’s a Gloabon. Still alive.”

  “Good,” Planjer said. “Keep it that way. Hang tight, we’re moving out.” And he touched the nav console, feeling a vibration through the deck as the main engines fired. We’re on our way, he thought. And as he sat back in his chair, he allowed himself a small smile. After months of cruising back and forth with a hold full of scrap metal, they were finally going somewhere. At last, we’re going to see a little action, he told himself. It’s about damned time.

  CHAPTER 2

  Earth

  Brent slumped at his desk, staring at his handset. Ring, damn you, he thought. One call. I don’t care if it’s an old lady who’s lost her cat, or a wrong number. I don’t care if it’s telesales for an eyeball replacement service. I don’t even care if it’s No-nose Pete, freshly escaped from the penal colony on Mars and pausing to deliver a few death threats before moving in for the kill. Just ring!

  Across the office, Rawlgeeb sat back in his chair, the servos in the seat’s specially reinforced mechanism scarcely squeaking as they adjusted to his position. “Esteemed colleague, you seem to be taking your time over those reports. Have you got onto the fiscal projections for the third quarter? There was something I wanted to point out to you.”

  “Right.” Brent glanced at the piles of documents arrayed in neat rows across his desk. “Third quarter. Was that the color-coded one?” He selected a thick wad of paper, touching it gingerly as if it might explode. “Yeah, that was good. Great, in fact. I especially liked the, er, the part about pencil sharpeners.”

  Rawlgeeb smiled. “Yes, the formulas in the pivot table were tricky to get right, but I nailed it in the end.”

  “There’s only one thing I wanted to mention. There was something that didn’t seem quite right to me.”

  “Oh? But the figures reconciled perfectly. I checked them four times. All of them.”

  Brent shook his head sadly. “It was some little thing. Maybe you missed out a decimal point. Something like that.”

  “No. Not a decimal point.” Rawlgeeb’s hand went to his chest. “Anything but that. I just couldn’t have made such a grievous error
. On Gloabon, such mistakes are punishable by five years of hard labor.”

  “Maybe it was something else then. Let me see.” Brent flicked over a few pages before plucking a sheet from the pile. “Here it is. Yeah, I think you should’ve skipped the dream ballet in act six - it gave away too much of the subtext and undermined the protagonist’s underlying motivation.”

  Rawlgeeb glared in silence for a second, then he leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk, his cervical vertebrae clicking as he craned his neck. “Very funny, Brent. Hilarious. You should submit that to one of those satirical websites. They could post it under famous last words.”

  “Hey, that’s actually a good idea.” Brent tossed the paper aside. “Seriously, Rawlgeeb, this is all too much. We don’t need all this financial nonsense. I have no clue what most of this means, but in the investigating business, the cash flow is real simple. We send out bills, and when people pay, we make sure it all gets written off as expenses. That’s all there is to it.” He folded his arms. “You know, I’ve been doing this job a long time, Rawlgeeb, and I never had anything like this before.”

  “Yes and look where it’s got you.”

  Brent met Rawlgeeb’s steely gaze with one of his own. “I was doing okay before you came along, so any time you want to quit, you know where the door is.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Rawlgeeb shot back, “because if I leave, I’ll take my credits out of this agency.”

  “I’d like to see you try. That money ran out weeks ago.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference,” Rawlgeeb said. “I still have friends up on The Gamulon, and if I put the Financial Reclamation Unit on your tail, they won’t even leave you a pot to…to keep your fish in.”

  “Leave Algernon out of this.” Brent’s eyes went to the upturned diving helmet atop the filing cabinet. From within, Algernon goggled at him through the algae-streaked faceplate, the fish’s bulbous eyes filled with recrimination. “Aw, what’s the use?” Brent slumped in his chair. “Rawlgeeb, if we’re going to work together, you have to meet me halfway on all this administrative stuff. We need to keep the paperwork right down, preferably below the deluge level.”