Black Swan Planet Page 15

  “What the fuck is this guy talking about?” Denton said, rubbing his forehead

  “Ninety-two point three one percent likelihood of using the word ‘fuck’ in your response and eighty-three-point ten percent likelihood that you wouldn’t immediately understand my importance to the mission.”

  Natastia said, “Allow me, Perry.”

  “Seventy-six point four two percent that you…” He stopped when Natastia eyes met his with daggers.

  “Mr. Tremblan is the mission’s statistician and navigator. He has an uncanny way of knowing what the outcomes of any given situation are. With the right information, his analysis will prove correct…how often, Mr. Tremblan?”

  “Given the set of parameters, such as no particular start or end date and no definition of what constitutes the ‘right data’, I’m forced to look at all the predictions I’ve made and estimate all the predictions that I will make, based upon life expectancies in the Empire, for someone of my characteristics and talents. Using that data, it’s a simple calculation to say that I am correct ninety-one point seven two percent of the time, with a margin of error…”

  “Nine times out of ten. I bet you clean up at the poker table,” Denton said.

  “It would be immoral and dangerous for me to use my skills for gambling. In your terms, nine times out of ten, I would be brutally murdered within the first two hours of a poker game, using currency as a betting medium.”

  Denton Morrow crossed his arms. “You’re getting close to those odds of being brutally murdered just talking.”

  Perry looked to Natastia for direction. “Right.”

  Natstia ordered him, “Go on to the ship. Wait there.”

  “I’ll see you in four point four two, with a…”

  A stern look from both Natastia and Denton stopped him cold. “See you on the ship.”

  He stepped outside, the door closing behind him.

  Denton paced a few steps. “Ninety-nine point nine nine chance I space him if he keeps that up.”

  “He takes some getting used to. But he’s proven invaluable on previous missions. The trick is to get him to talk only when it’s important. I’m sure you and he will work that out.”

  “Sounds like I don’t have much choice. Anybody else?”

  “There are a few more to meet, but none of any importance. A couple dozen grunts, a mechanic, a cook; they’ll stay out of your way, I’m certain. We’re going to spend quite a bit of time on the Dissolute. Why don’t you take a nice shower with some delousing shampoo? I’ll send Mr. Smiles over to cut your hair and burn your clothes. He’ll help you get clean shaven and bring a new uniform over. Why don’t you just plan on taking a second shower after you’re done? Take my word for it, you need it.”

  Inquisitor Briggam led Lieutenant Denton Morrow to a private shower and restroom. Plush by Imperial standards; radiant heat came from bright white marble walls and floor, sealed with a clear epoxy coating to make them completely impervious to water and staining.

  She pointed to the various cleaning implements. “Shower. Use this all over.” She handed him a bottle of ‘Nitpicky Noonan’s No More Lousy Nights’ shampoo. “Mr. Smiles will be here shortly. Once he’s done with you, another shower, then meet us at dock ‘J816A’.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Denton waited until she left, then he looked around to figure out how to make the shower work. He couldn’t see any buttons or mechanisms, just simply micro nozzles jutting from the walls in one corner of the room. As he approached, a curtain of air emerged from tiny holes in the floor, and the water came on, engulfing him in warm, massaging pulses, clothes and all. He stripped his wet clothes off and started with the delousing shampoo. It smelled a bit of ether with an overwhelming scent of lemon. The shampoo burned in several private places where he had rashes or cuts. He watched as years of filth made its way into a small drainage slot at the corner. For the first time in years, he truly felt human, and he didn’t want to give that up. After thirty minutes in the shower, he started to realize that the water massaging him became less comfortable and started to hurt. His hands and feet wrinkled, and he wanted out.

  He stepped out, through the curtain of air, now warmed to gently dry him as he exited. He retrieved a thick white towel from a storage slot that he hadn’t noticed before, and dried himself off. He then found a new toothbrush, cleaning foam, hairbrush, cotton swabs, and nail clippers; everything he needed except the tools to shave and cut his ragged hair. As if on cue, once he completed all the hygiene tasks, he heard a gentle knock at the door.

  “Come in. I bet you’re here to cut my hair.”

  The door opened. Denton Morrow didn’t glance at it, intent on adjusting his towel to protect his modesty. He then glanced up at the mirror to see who had entered. He let out a scream when he saw a huge gorilla behind him, reaching to strangle him. Big, sharp yellowed fangs hung over the gorilla’s lower lip, dripping spittle. His mouth looked scarred and evil, his suit pressed crisp with a white collared shirt appearing above a tailored suit jacket, a corsage in his pocket.

  Denton screamed, “What the?!”

  The gorilla sighed and looked annoyed his eyes squinting and turning upward, as he reaching a huge hairy hand into his jacket pocket, producing a plastic laminated card:

  Do not be afraid. My name is Mr. Smiles, and yes I am a gorilla. I have been genetically, and through neuro-implants, enhanced to be a servant to my mistress. All aggressive actions are controlled and I cannot harm any human being without my mistress’ consent. If I’m showing you this card, it means I am not here to harm you.

  “Mr. Smiles. I should have guessed.”

  The gorilla rolled one hand and bent over in a gesture meaning ‘pleased to meet you’.

  From a pocket, he produced a long straight razor and a pair of shears. Denton struggled for a moment, but Mr. Smiles pushed him into the chair so he couldn’t move. The gorilla raised a finger and pointed at Denton Morrow. The motion meant to sit still, and Denton did just that. He finally closed his eyes, content to be groomed or killed, with really nothing he could do either way. As he sat with his eyes closed, he noticed a scent of cologne. Subtle, but definitely a nice smell. It had a clean message with a hint of mint and some floral mix. He strained to relax as he got his hair cut, a scalp massage, and an expert shave, all at the same time. He eventually nodded off for a short time, awoken by a gentle tap on his shoulder; a dark and hairy hand pointed toward the mirror.

  “Not bad! I mean, wow! I’ve never thought to cut my hair like this. You used the natural wave to make me look good. I feel good too. Thank you.”

  Mr. Smiles nodded and handed Denton a new bottle of shampoo, a fancy designer bottle, and upon opening it, he recognized the scent as the same coming from the gorilla. A point to the shower conveyed the message. A short while later, he emerged, clean, refreshed and feeling good. Just before he left the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. “So this is what it’s like to be human again.” He stepped into the hallway to be greeted by a computer.

  The computer spoke.“Lieutenant Denton Morrow. Transport has been arranged for you to hangar dock ‘J816A’. You have been assigned color pattern blue, blue, yellow, green. Follow the guide lights on the floor to your destination.”

  “Blue, blue, yellow, green.” He looked to the floor and noticed dozens of guide light tracks flashing in the smart surface. “Please highlight my track,” he said, one track expanding three-fold for him to locate it. “Thanks. Got it now.”

  The track shrank back to normal size and he followed it. It led him to a series of moving walkways, switching levels many times. Eventually, it led him to an underground high-speed transport shuttle. He boarded along with several dozen others, all looking downward, never making eye contact. The lights led him to a specific seat, he took it and the lights changed to an ETA display. Ninety-seven minutes, twelve seconds, the display counted down. “Wake me up when we’re five minutes away.”

  The display dimmed and he doz
ed off. At precisely five minutes prior to stopping, his seat vibrated, slightly at first, until it grew strong enough that the person sitting next to him elbowed him. He awoke, stared at the display that now showed four minutes, fifteen seconds. It flashed blue, blue, yellow, and green. When the transport stopped, the display led him to another series of moving walkways until he finally ended up at the dock, staring at the Dissolute.

  Time, or restoration had been good to her. As he walked around the ship, he looked for blemishes and scorch marks that should have been present. He couldn’t find any. He circled the ship twice, checking for any damage or ‘remove before launch’ blocks. None to be found. He climbed up the loading ramp to see Mr. Smiles at the hatch, who simply pointed him to a G-absorbing seat to strap into.

  Magnus’s voice summoned from the intercom. “This is your pilot speaking. All personnel prepare for maglev acceleration. Strap in or we’ll scrape you off the wall.”

  The familiar groans and motions of a ship hooking up to the maglev track made him smile. Some rocking and auto balancing kicked in as the systems found perfect neutral buoyancy above the tracks.

  “Launching in three, two, one...”

  The ship jetted forward and started its long spiral path through the launch tunnel in near-vacuum. The ship accelerated to Mach 4 over several minutes, then left the tube through a plasma shield. The air exploded with a bang at the end of the tube, the ship thrown violently into orbit, able to save reaction mass for later use where maglev launching wasn’t available.

  “Let’s bring Mr. Varoule to his destiny,” Denton said as he unstrapped from his seat and started exploring the ship.

  Chapter 20

  Idiot’s Epiphany

  I drove. I wanted to get some distance between myself and the burning barn, but not in a straight line. I made my way up a couple miles and took the first country road to the left. A few minutes later, I came to a crossroad to the right, so I took it. I simply wanted to get away, but not in a straight line. I didn’t pass a single car, and after ten minutes or so, I started to relax. That’s when I noticed my shaking hands and how much I wanted to retch. When this evening started, I tried to find a scoop on a man. What was his name again?

  So much had changed in a few hours, I could hardly remember what I wanted to accomplish. I reassured myself that there couldn’t be any evidence I had ever been in the barn. It would surely burn to the ground and take any history of me with it.

  Would the body ever be found?

  The hay-filled barn and ancient wood of the structure would burn hot.

  Were there storage barrels of fuel? I think I saw something like that. Would it burn hot enough to cremate the Dentist? Perhaps.

  I took a deep breath. Even if someone found his body, I had no motive, no witness saw me there, and I had never been to the barn before, and I sure wasn’t going to make the idiotic criminal mistake of revisiting the crime scene.

  Everything will be fine. Did the cat escape? Maybe she protected a nest of kittens? Why should I care?

  But somehow it mattered for a moment; there could be more blood on my hands. I had never intended to hurt anyone or anything. But I had an undeniable urge to get my car washed. Any dirt from the barn floor seemed like blood on my hands. I’d dispose of all my clothes.

  Maybe I should replace the tires on my car in case they recognized the tread pattern? Get a different car? No, that’s what a criminal would do. But nobody questions new tires.

  I started to develop a plan. The first town I came to of any size, I’d stop and do some shopping. I tended to carry a lot of cash because I didn’t like the idea of a paper trail on me. I had enough on me to get a hotel room for a night or two and replace my clothes and tires. I’d give a fake name and try not to be noticed. Someplace that wasn’t big on keeping records.

  Then I saw the perfect place, the ‘Hollow Heights Hotel’. The sign advertised television & A/C, and ‘Ask about our weekly rates’, but someone had crossed out the word ‘weekly’ and wrote underneath it, ‘hourly’. Despite it being a dive, I decided to stay as the hour grew late and I couldn’t do anything until morning. I parked the car and approached the desk. I saw no one, so I tapped the bell lightly, twice.

  I heard a snort that sounded like someone waking up from a deep sleep, grumbling, and shuffling to the desk. A crooked man approached; his back bent at an unnatural combination of angles, both forward and to the side. One arm appeared longer than that other and his nose turned sideways as if it had been broken by an errant tree falling on it from a high hilltop.

  “I need a room.”

  “Hey. Why didn’t you bring her inside?” the man said, wiping a snot-bubble growing on his upper lip.

  “Her? What her?”

  “The girl. There’s always a girl. Except when it’s a boy. You got a boy in that car of yours? Sicko.”

  “No. Nobody. Just me.”

  “Ah. You need alone time. Did you see our magazine rack? Everything you need.”

  He pointed to a rack at the corner of the lobby, filled with pulp truck-stop smut. I did a double-take at one frayed title, Lesbian Cowgirls Lost in Lust Valley. A Select Your Sin Book! He caught my surprised look at the book and added, “That’s a good one. I’ll give you a hint, Margaret likes it rough.”

  “What? Huh? No. I just need sleep.”

  “Oh. How long?”

  “I don’t know, the whole night, okay?”

  “You’re really here to sleep?” then he mumbled ‘weirdo’ under his breath. “Ten bucks. Did you want TV or A/C?”

  “Your sign says both.”

  “Look closer. That’s says ‘or’. Not my fault it looks like one of them ‘and-per-signs’.”

  “Ampersand. It’s called an ampersand.”

  “What are you, French? I’ll have you know we bailed you cheese-eaters out when Hitler kicked your ass all over the country of Europe.”

  “Did you serve in the war?”

  “No. But I read about it in Give it to the Kraut - Stuff the Wiener Schnitzel! The French were patsies in that one. Now, Television or A/C?”

  “Television.”

  “Fine.” He reached under the counter and produced a ten-inch black and white Zenith, the rabbit ears wiggling as he slapped in on the counter. “Ten dollars. Room thirteen.”

  I placed two five dollar bills on the counter, turned and walked away. “Thanks.”

  I made it to room 13. It had all the comforts of home; stained carpet, musty odor, and a bathroom with hot and cold dripping water. The bathtub had some black, hairy mold growing in it that first looked like a spider, then a toupee, and I finally decided it looked like a rat had been flattened on the drain. I kept my clothes on and lay down on top of the bedspread, afraid of what horrors might be under the sheets. I closed my eyes and eventually fell in and out of sleep. I awoke grumpily, not refreshed, and I refused to use that bathtub. But the sun had come up and a new day began.

  I found a garage with stacks of tires out front, within walking distance of a small department store. I dropped off the car and made up a story that I hated the way the tires rode, so I wanted something different. They obliged with grins and said they’d knock a few dollars off if they could keep my old tires to sell as used. I agreed and walked to the store, where I bought an entirely new outfit, socks, underwear, pants, shirt, and shoes. I paid in cash and made my way to a deli counter where I bought a coffee and a plate of eggs and toast. I saw the garage from my seat and watched as the finished car lowered from the floor jacks.

  “Thanks for the business, sir. Have a great day,” The young attendant said, as I paid.

  “Yes. You too.”

  I walked to my car. As I made my way in, I heard a yell.

  “Hey, Mister! I forgot. You get a free road atlas with every tire purchase. It’s the newest edition, see: 1968 version.”

  “Thanks. But this is still ‘67,” I said, taking the atlas and setting it on the back seat.

  I saw the kid shrug and wave as I
drove off. I briefly went back to the hotel room and changed all my clothes, bagging them all up, and putting them in the trunk.

  I started the long trek home.

  When I finally got home, Gina greeted me with a hug. I held her close, squeezing her like I never wanted to let go.

  “What’s wrong?” She said, pulling back a bit.

  “Nothing. Just glad to be home. I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, and I love you. Always have, ever since I found you, hurt and alone that day so long ago.”

  “I’m a lucky man. Everything that has ever gone wrong for me has been worth it because it brought us together.”

  “And I’m a lucky girl. Life with you has always been an adventure.”

  Gina pulled away. “Uh, Raka?”

  “Yes?”

  “You really need a shower.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure I do.”

  After my shower, I fell asleep and awoke briefly when she joined me in the bed, working her way under my arm and close to me. At that moment nothing else mattered.

  I watched the papers for any stories on a missing person, homicide, or a burned barn. Nothing. Nothing at all. After about a week, I started to feel normal again and thought about all that the Dentist had told me. I started a free-thinking doodle; a tool I occasionally used to think through problems. I got lost in my doodle when I heard Marco from the other room. He jumped up and down, clapping and laughing. I stretched, got up and walked into the room with him. He watched a detective movie on television, and he clapped and pointed every time they showed the hero’s sidekick chimpanzee. “I see. Somebody you know?”