Trespassers: a science-fiction novel Read online

  Easy money never works out, he thought. He would cooperate with them, but he wouldn’t roll over too easily. If he played it cool, he might be able to negotiate his way out of this without losing the ship. It was a Portik, one of the finest vessels produced by Malcor. It had been handed to him especially for this job, and he shuddered to think how much trouble he would be in if he returned without it.

  “We know something dropped from your ship,” Agent Lawrence added. This was news to Denokin, and Agent Lawrence read that off his face. “Five somethings, to be exact. We believe these were passengers.” Stewart had instructed Agent Lawrence to mention the passengers. The response from Denokin told him to pursue it. “That’s a pretty desperate thing to do, don’t you think?” Agent Lawrence continued. “It’s almost like they’re running from something.”

  Denokin continued his deep, silent consideration. He was processing a lot of information.

  “They must be in some pretty big trouble to jump off a moving ship like that,” Agent Lawrence prodded. “What do you know about it?”

  Agent Lawrence leaned forward in his chair, resting his weight comfortably on the tabletop. “We’re not concerned with you. We know you’re just trying to make a living.”

  Denokin pushed his coffee to the side and gathered his thoughts. The truth was that he had no idea what his passengers were up to. But from what he had seen, he had formed a theory.

  “They’re not running,” Denokin finally said.

  Stewart and Web stood outside the cabin. Stewart enjoyed the cool breeze coming off the lake. The cabin was always cooler than wherever you had left to get there. Something about the long winding ride into the woods managed to shave ten degrees off the thermometer.

  Stone Ridge Cabin held many satisfying memories for Stewart. This was the reason he had persuaded the Redundancy Department to buy this particular piece of real estate and turn it into a safe house.

  “They’re after something,” Stewart said. “I guarantee you they’re after something.”

  “Like what?” Web asked.

  “I don’t know.” Stewart tilted his head to the sky and let out a long, slow exhale, expecting to see his breath. This made very little sense in sixty-degree weather, but he was remembering standing in that very spot in the dead of winter, blowing spiraling plumes of white smoke. “Not cold enough, I guess,” he noted to himself.

  A heavy wooden door swung open and thudded against the side of the cabin. Agent Lawrence leaned out and scanned the wooded horizon until his eyes found Stewart and Web. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

  Inside the cabin, Denokin laid out his story. He explained how he had been contacted, where he picked up the passengers, what he had seen, and what little he was able to overhear from them. A semicircle of agents sat across from him: Mindy, Web, Stewart, and Agent Lawrence, with New Guy standing off to the side.

  Mindy wanted to look at him closely, but she didn’t want to be caught staring. She didn’t want to stand out as the new girl who had nothing better to do than gawk. Her glances shifted from the table, to the other agents, to the ceiling, down to the alien, then around the same loop again.

  Each time her eyes landed on him, she hoped for something more. She hoped to catch some detail that had evaded her on the last pass. A lizard tongue or pointed ears or a third eye would be nice. This guy even cleared his throat like an earthling, though he did have a nicely convincing alien accent. As Denokin spoke, his alien words were echoed by the English translation coming from Agent Lawrence.

  New Guy watched from the corner of the room. All the previous military operatives had watched similar alien encounters. But New Guy saw something different: he saw his father . . . not the father who had raised him, but a much more distant memory of his biological father, who had died at an early age. When New Guy’s mother remarried, she chose a lifelong marine.

  It was this stepfather who guided his childhood with an iron fist. He had shaped that little boy into a cold and efficient marine, even by the age of eight. Push-ups, mile-long runs, jumping jacks, and 5:00 a.m. bugle calls were all a part of his upbringing. This stepfather wasn’t a bad man, but he certainly wasn’t warm. Suddenly, standing in this cabin, surrounded by alien activity, New Guy was flooded by memories of his real father.

  His real father—the one who had taken him to science-fiction matinees every weekend—would have loved this stuff. He would have loved the excitement and wonder of it. And this bizarre situation was bringing New Guy in touch with the memory of his father in a way he had not experienced in decades.

  Web sat across from Denokin. He listened, because he didn’t want to be left out. But the details didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t into alien politics. The newness had worn off, and it was just another day at the office.

  Stewart, on the other hand, was captivated by every word. He had to be. It was his job to be. On his shoulders rested a greater responsibility. The luxury of taking a back seat and enjoying the ride was not available to him. He needed Denokin’s information. He needed to know the parameters of the game. He watched Denokin talk, and he listened to the translation coming from Agent Lawrence. Of the people in that room, these words meant the most to Stewart, because he was the most informed on alien politics, which were essentially the following:

  Beyond the borders of the Milky Way galaxy, there were vast groups of civilized alien life-forms composed of many different races. They were skilled travelers, and the breadth of their reach was mind-boggling.

  To these alien cultures, Earth was a popular resort destination. The planet didn’t hold any natural resources that were of much value, but its beauty was unparalleled, which could be attributed to its high percentage of surface water, which led to an abundance of plant and animal life, not to mention the beauty of the streams, rivers, waterfalls, lakes, and oceans themselves, making it a scenic paradise.

  Earth’s defense rested in its capability to destroy itself. That’s right: the earthlings possessed the capability to destroy their entire planet with the press of a few buttons. Resolution 419 was designed to do just that, in the face of an alien invasion. Of course, this plan was an extreme overreaction. The aliens had no intention of invading. While Resolution 419 did give comfort to some, for the most part it was just a piece of paper in a folder somewhere. What really governed the relationship between Earth and its alien visitors was a pact called the Stellen Agreement. It outlined the responsibilities and boundaries of each party. And it served to keep the peace. There were several dozen infractions each year, for which representatives from each side would sit down annually and squabble about morals, principles, trust, and the nature of keeping one’s word. Then amends would be made, everyone would have lunch, and the system would continue for another twelve months.

  “They weren’t vacationers. That’s for sure,” Denokin continued. “It was like they were on a mission. One of them had a . . . one of those . . . heart trackers—heart-signal trackers, I think they’re called.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Stewart asked, his words bounding off Agent Lawrence and coming out in Chuman.

  “I’ve seen those things before,” Denokin snapped.

  “And you think they’re tracking someone on Earth?”

  Denokin waited for the translation, then nodded.

  12

  The Device

  Upstairs at the farmhouse, Jin had his shirt pulled up to his shoulders and his pants dropped to his ankles.

  “What do you see?” Jin asked, as he looked over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. But Lyntic was in the way, squatted behind him with a washcloth and a small bottle of antiseptic.

  “There’s a little bruising,” she said. “And a few cuts. But nothing bad.” She dabbed at a scrape on his calf.

  “How big?” he asked, still trying to get a look in the mirror.

  “Not very,” she replied. Jin was disappointed. He wanted to have more to show for the pain he was carrying.<
br />
  “It’ll probably be worse tomorrow,” he said.

  Lyntic smiled as she dabbed another scrape on the back of his thigh. “Well, let’s hope so,” she joked.

  Downstairs, Dexim pulled the heart-signal tracking monitor from the supply bag. It was a rectangular block, with rounded edges and a smooth finish. It had the look and feel of a hand-held video game. But it was no toy. It was the key to their mission. It would lead them to their target . . . or, more accurately, to the heart of their target.

  The beat of each heart gave out a unique signal, like a fingerprint. And this device was calibrated to identify just such a signal. It was standard procedure to record the details of the heartbeat signal at birth, for identification purposes. However, this information was highly protected and only accessible through an act of the high courts in the case of an emergency, such as a missing person or a dangerous fugitive. Black-market devices existed, but were strictly illegal. The heart-signal information contained inside was even more so.

  Dexim flipped the device on. The display flashed and went blank. It was not working. Dexim switched it off and back on. Once again it came to life just long enough to go blank and emit a single, useless beep. Dexim noticed some cracks in the top right corner. This device wasn’t designed to withstand a fall from a moving ship. Fortunately, their team included an electronics expert. Unfortunately, that expert was in quarantine, soaking in a bathtub.

  Tobi had been in the tub for three hours, now. He rocked his head back and forth against the tile wall, following the rhythm of the radio Lyntic had found for him. He was effectively rocking himself to sleep. This swaying stopped, as he sensed a presence in the room.

  “Tobi, we have a problem,” he heard Dexim say.

  Tobi instinctively turned his towel-clad face to Dexim.

  “The heart-signal tracker isn’t working,” Dexim continued. “It comes on, then dies.”

  Tobi thought about this for a moment, but his towel gave no indication of his thinking.

  “Can you fix it?” Dexim asked.

  Tobi gave it a few more seconds of thought. “I’ll have to take a look at it.”

  “Jin will look at it,” Dexim ordered. “And he can tell you what you’re seeing.”

  Jin’s shoulders wilted, “I’m not good with electronic stuff.”

  “Just get it done,” Dexim commanded as he shoved the device into Jin’s hands and stepped out of the room.

  Jin had done far more breaking of electronic devices than fixing. It was just a thing that was supposed to work, and if it didn’t, he couldn’t imagine for the life of him what there was to be done about it. His eyes shifted over to see Tobi sitting up in the tub. Tobi welcomed this challenge. It was going to test his ability to visualize. He would have to paint an exact image in his mind, from the information that Jin would feed him. It was going to be a lot more satisfying than just soaking in a tub.

  “First things first,” Tobi said. “Is my washcloth still covering my important areas?”

  “You’re good,” Jin answered.

  “Perfect,” Tobi nodded and shifted his focus to the device. “Now we’ll need to remove the back cover.”

  “Right,” Jin said, having absolutely no idea how to do that.

  “We’ll need my tool kit from the supply bag.”

  Fixing a tracking device—or any electronic device for that matter—was a simple task for Tobi. He had been tinkering with technology since he could crawl. As a toddler, he had managed to disassemble every electronic toy within reach. His parents had mistaken this for destructive behavior, until he began putting them back together. Then they realized Tobi had a natural skill. Tobi, however, was convinced he’d make an excellent athlete. He was determined to try every sport. After spending season after season trying, he eventually ran out of sports. Tobi never got comfortable with the idea that he was a bad athlete, but he did settle into the realization that everyone else was better. Around the age of fifteen, he discovered girls and electronics. He had been surrounded by both his whole life, of course, but when he placed first at the robotics fair, and when the red-haired, freckle-faced beauty who placed fifth asked to see his trophy, he was hooked.

  Tobi didn’t marry that fifth placer. But she introduced him to the wonders of coupledom, and it started him on a path that led to his wife, Novina, whom he met in college. She was a journalism major, and they met when she interviewed him for an article in the college paper. After a brief courtship, the young lovers were wed. The principles of marriage were pretty similar across the universe: each promises to love the other; belongings are shared; a home is made; and a family is forged. Tobi and Novina did not have any kids, yet. But they were looking forward to it. After Tobi’s stint in the Royal Expeditionary Armada, they planned to start a family.

  Nothing about Tobi would suggest that he belonged in the REA. That suggestion was made by a colleague of Tobi’s, who pulled a few strings to get him the appointment. Royal service was necessary to have on one’s résumé for true success. Soaking in a bathtub on some distant planet didn’t feel like career advancement, but he trusted it would lead to bigger and better things.

  When Tobi signed up, he had been promised he would be uplinking remote computer interfaces. Now that was interesting work. Why so interesting? Because he had to cross platforms. Each remote base had a different system, and it was his job to create a link between the foreign system and the REA mainframe. This was a tech’s dream job. It made you a real Wild West gunslinger—not that your average REA tech knew what a Wild West gunslinger was, but that feeling of being the baddest man in town was universal. Somehow, bathtubs and face wraps were never mentioned. Nonetheless, this particular mission—if successful, if they could somehow find this girl—would catapult his résumé to the top of any stack.

  13

  Sara

  Thump-thump . . . thump-thump. Sara’s heart beat beneath her warm skin as she sat in a booth at Ruby’s Diner, a throwback to diners of the 1950s. The thump-thump of Sara’s heart was not of much concern to the patrons of Ruby’s Diner, except perhaps for Jeremy Borden, who sat across from her. He was mesmerized by all of her.

  Sara was a petite girl on the cusp of adulthood. She had straight, shoulder-length hair that fell somewhere between brown and blonde, depending on the light; her face was brushed with freckles. Jeremy was freshly eighteen. He had officially been an adult for two weeks, now. He had asked Sara out for lunch, yesterday, while they were both standing in Nathan's Hardware—the small, family-owned shop where she had been working for the past eight months. She had seen the invitation coming a mile away. Jeremy had been a frequent visitor to the hardware store over the past few weeks. She got the impression that a few of those trips were specifically to talk to her, which she enjoyed as well. Would you allow me to take you out to lunch, tomorrow? He finally asked. His nerves showed in his voice. But she loved the way he phrased it. Not finding any reason to decline, she accepted.

  I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon, he said.

  Twelve thirty, she replied.

  An exchange of smiles sealed the deal. Sara hadn’t been looking for a date—dating was the last thing on her mind. But she was looking for some distraction from her life. A date was as good as any. Now, she was reaching the bottom of her vanilla milkshake. They had agreed that vanilla was superior to chocolate in every way. They had covered such meaningful topics as the proper way to eat french fries, the best method for pouring ketchup, and which sitcoms don’t belong on television. They had talked all the way through the meal—actually, the conversation had been nonstop since he picked her up. This was exactly the distraction Sara had wanted. It felt like the first time she had laughed in the last eight months, and it probably was—at least the first genuine laugh. But watching the last ounces of vanilla milkshake disappear into the straw felt like watching sand running out of an hourglass. Soon, this peaceful interlude would end, and she would return to reality.

  “So, what about you?” Jeremy asked
.

  “What about me?” she replied. They had been talking about parents, and Jeremy had explained that he still lived with his, but he was planning to go to DePauw University and would get his own place after he graduated. She wasn’t sure whether he was asking about her parents in general or about whether she still lived with them. She didn’t have an answer either way.

  “Are you going to college?” he clarified.

  “Oh,” she breathed a sigh of relief, not because she had an answer, but because it would be an easier question to brush off, “I don’t know, yet.”

  “Tell me something about you that nobody else knows,” Jeremy said.

  Sara’s straw rattled against the bottom of the glass, sucking nothing but air. There were a million ways for Jeremy to misread the expression that popped on her face. Fortunately, he read it perfectly: it was conflict.

  “What?” Jeremy smiled. “What is it?”

  What it was, was something very big. Her whole life could be summed up in a neat little package. She had spent the last eight months summing it up. But she knew she couldn’t share that summation with anyone. Now, suddenly, she was considering it. Why had he asked that question? Why couldn’t she give him the answer?

  “Do you have a big secret I should know about?” he prodded.

  “No.” She tried to smile it away, but Jeremy could see there was something hiding under the surface. He nodded out the window to the park in the center of town.

  “Do you want to take a walk?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, her smile turning into something genuine.

  Jeremy had heard that she was from Nova Scotia. He even looked it up on a map: turns out it was in Canada, a lot less exotic than it sounded. He also heard she had been staying with the Nathans, renting a room in their home above the hardware store. The Nathans were a sweet couple in their sixties. When their own children had moved away, they decided to rent out a room. They were very pleased with Sara as a renter. She was polite, tidy, and turned out to be a real help at the hardware store.