The Tau Ceti Transmutation (Amazon) (17 page)

“It’s the most likely explanation,” said Carl. “Especially considering her behavior this morning, where she pointed you in the direction of the Veesnu cardslip at her bakery.”

“Right. Which means she’s the one who directed us toward Keelok’s Funporium, and the Veesnu chapel in the spaceport, and Fran’s office at Cetie U. Each one of those stops was supposed to be a clue toward something. What the Veesnu chapel implied is obvious—the others less so. But Fran’s a professor of exoneurobiology, specializing in Diraxi brain function. Remember how she said Veesnu is part religion and part science? Maybe Valerie’s been trying to tell us what you so jokingly alluded to. Maybe the Diraxi have made strides in cross-species communication methods. Maybe the Diraxi
are
brainwashing people, and one of those people is Valerie.”

“And where does Keelok’s Funporium fit into all of this?” asked Carl.

I shrugged. “No idea.”

Carl furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “Ok. Let’s say you’re right, or at least in the general ballpark. Here’s a question for you: why go to the trouble of planting clues in the forms of arcade tokens and cardslips? Valerie sought us out. Why not simply ask for help? And why lie about the whole thing?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But if she’s being brainwashed, maybe she’s suffering a mental blockage that prevents her from saying. Or maybe she left
herself
the clues during one of her out-of-body Veesnu experiences. Perhaps she’s unaware of what the Diraxi are doing to her, but there’s a part of her mind, a subliminal element, that’s pushing her to search for answers. Maybe that part or her mind left the arcade token in the sock, hoping the lucid portion of her mind would find it and discover the truth.”

“Those are interesting theories,” said Carl, “but unfortunately, neither of them make sense. If Miss Meeks were suffering a mental block preventing her from telling others about what was befalling her at the hands of the Veesnu, then how is it she came to you earlier today and pointed you in the direction of the cardslip at her bakery? Similarly, if she was only aware of the Veesnu Diraxi’s actions at a subliminal level, how was she able to come to you this morning and tell you the information she did?”

I leaned back into the cab cushions. Carl had a point. None of my theories fully accounted for our varied interactions with Valerie. Nonetheless, there had to be a scenario that explained both Valerie’s selective memory and her inability to directly tell us what was happening to her, and my gut told me the Diraxi and their mind-bending, pseudo-religious Veesnu hypnosis sessions were behind it.

“Rich,” said Carl. “Did you by any chance tell the Veesnu chaplain anything that could’ve tipped him off regarding your true motives for attending his sermon, or said anything that could’ve tied you to Miss Meeks?”

I shook my head. “Don’t think so. I asked a few questions about Veesnu and the chapel, that’s all. Why? What does that have to do with Valerie and her actions?”

“Nothing,” said Carl, as he stared out the window at my back. “But it could have everything to do with why we’re being followed.”

20

“Say what?” I turned around and looked out onto the wide expanse of pavement behind us.

“The silver Feltberry crossover,” said Carl. “Two cars back from us.”

I spotted it. “It’s following us?”

“Either that, or it happens to be travelling to the same tube station we are. I noticed it about a minute after we entered the cab.”

“Well, let’s test your theory, shall we?” I said. “Paige, instruct our car to make a detour. Let’s take the next right, then the second left, then the first right again.”

You got it,
said Paige.
But don’t blame me if the car throws a fit. You know how much these things hate being rerouted into less efficient traffic patterns.

I snorted. As impressive an achievement as it was to have the entire surface of Cetie covered in interconnected, cross-communicating cabs loaded with visual and geopositional sensors, all humming along smoothly, driven by slick algorithms perfected over centuries, each individual car was dumber than dirt. One couldn’t even order you a pizza if you’d asked it to. But I suppose it was natural for Paige to empathize with them. From a developmental standpoint, she had more in common with the fleet of cabs than she did with me.

Despite her protests, Paige sent the message. We turned—first to the right, then the left, then right again. I kept my eyes trained on the crossover the entire time. It followed us seamlessly.

I turned to Carl, wondering what a pain it must’ve been to tail someone back in the bygone days of yore when cars didn’t drive themselves. “Well, that settles that. We’re being followed.” I smiled.

“And this amuses you?” asked Carl.

“Are you kidding?” I said. “Of course it does. It’s different. It’s exciting. This is the kind of stuff I signed up for when I established my investigation business a year ago.”

“Kind of like waking up in a pile of trash in an alley?”

“You know, in those old novels and vids that inspired me to try my hand at detective work, people were always waking up unconscious in alleys after taking blows to the head. Perhaps that’s a crucial aspect of the profession I overlooked.”

Carl ignored my wisecrack. “What do you think we should do?”

“Figure out who’s tailing us, obviously,” I said as our cab took another left, trying to return us to the main thoroughfare.

“It’s fairly obvious
who
it is,” said Carl.
“Why
they’re following us, assuming you didn’t mention Miss Meeks while at the Veesnu chapel, is far more interesting.”

I waggled a finger at my partner. “Don’t assume anything. For all we know it’s Fran or Keelok or even Valerie herself in that cab. Given how this case has unfolded, none of those alternatives would surprise me. Well, Keelok would. But mostly because I don’t think he’d fit very well in the cab.” I glanced out the back window again, spotting the crossover as it followed us around the corner. “Why don’t we flip the script?”

“You mean follow whoever’s following us?”

“Exactly.”

Carl looked at me, his lips pressed together and his eyebrows elevated a hair above sea level.

“I can see you’re not convinced, but bear with me.” I glanced out the cab window. Glossy skyscrapers blotted out much of the light from the solar reflectors, the tall sentinels having replaced Knottington’s sprawling manufactories as our cab worked its way closer to Pylon Alpha proper. “Paige, are there any large public gatherings nearby? Anywhere we might find crowds of people and aliens with which to mingle?”

At this hour?
said Paige.
Not so much. But if it’s crowds you’re after, we could always head back to the spaceport. That place is always packed tighter than a Meertori transport schooner on its return trip from the asteroid belt.

I hummed noncommittally. “That’s a little far. Anything closer?”

How about the race dome?
said Paige.
That’s not far from here, and ever since they retrofitted the arena for Querts, there’s been hot action on those shiny, flying buggers around the clock. Whoever colluded with the event staff to bring in the Querts basically handed the arena owners a license to generate their own SEUs.

“Perfect,” I said.

Paige rerouted the car once more.

Carl stared at me. “Care to fill me in on whatever’s going on up there?” He tapped his head.

“Simple,” I said. “We’ll drop you off a few blocks from the race dome. From there, you’ll pretend to go on your merry way, but in reality you’ll follow us on foot. A few blocks later, I’ll exit at the dome proper. The guys tailing us should get off as well. By that point, you’ll be in a position to follow them. You can keep an eye on them while they keep tabs on me. Your surveillance information should help us brainstorm a plan of action.”

Carl frowned, his bottom lip curling so hard it nearly engulfed the top one.

“What?” I said. “It’s a good plan.”

“It separates us,” said Carl. “Bad things happen when we get separated, as evidenced by recent events.”

“Look, just because I woke up delirious next to a dumpster after ditching you doesn’t mean I plan to make a habit of it. I’ll be fine. Regardless, Paige’ll be in constant contact. You’ll know exactly where I am and what’s going on at all times.”

“That’s what I thought last time, too.” Carl leaned into his seat and crossed his arms.

I sighed and turned my eyes back to the blurred cityscape, the muffled whirr of the cab acting as a buffer between me and my sourpuss of a partner. There was no use arguing with Carl. His protective instincts had a way of overwhelming his otherwise logical sensibilities. I couldn’t really fault him for it, though. He had my best interests at heart—or at the cybernetic equivalent of one—but it could still be tiresome to be treated like an eighty-five-year-old child at times.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the cab pulled over in front of a real estate investments building, its door lifting to allow Carl passage. Bombastic music and effects from the race dome trickled in through the open doorway, bringing with them a wave of warm, Cetie air. As I glanced behind me, I noticed the silver crossover pulling to the side of the street a couple hundred meters behind us.

Carl paused with his hand on the rim of the cab’s exit. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked.

He gave me a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t answer that,” I said. “Yes, I’m sure. Just stay close.”

Carl left, and the door swung back down. I trained my eyes on the crossover behind us. As the cab whirred into motion, so did the crossover, without anyone having exited.

“So far so good,” I said.

You know, I don’t always agree with Carl,
said Paige,
but he has a point. Do try to avoid hypnotic presentations and psychoactive drugs this time, will you?

“Wait…are you expressing concern?” I asked. “You’re shaken up over losing my Brain signal, aren’t you?”

A little, yes.

No snark. That
was
a surprise.

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

The cab took a corner, shot forward a few hundred meters, and slid to a halt as it hit a patch of race dome traffic.

“Here’s fine,” I told Paige. “I’ll walk the rest.”

The cab door popped open, and I stepped into a flood of optical and sonic oppression. The gaudy monstrosity of the race dome loomed farther down the street—an overstuffed, pink hemispherical pimple jutting from the earth, waiting to be popped. Gigantic holoprojectors streamed vids into the air above the dome, showing highlights from the latest match as speakers blared commentary and advertisements at any passersby who might still remain oblivious to the monument’s presence.

“—and He Who Walks in the Shadow of Death zooms into the lead, followed closely by Thundering Herd. They’re heading into the fire spiral, and it looks like The Wings of Albion is making a move. It’s tucking in its wings for a burst—”

Unlike most pedestrians, who stood rooted in place gaping at the spectacle, I walked as I watched, but watch I did, filtering the action through my peripheral vision. The Querts—which resembled oversized hummingbirds who’d had their feathers removed and replaced with scaly, scintillating skin—flapped their wings furiously, ramming into one another from the sides and back as they tilted and shifted, following a course outlined by neon green rings and projected into the sky of the race dome by swivel-mounted holoprojectors. The course changed each match, and the projectors only displayed the three closest upcoming checkpoints in front of the leader, which made for wild flying from the Querts when the projectors threw in a tight loop-the-loop or helical spiral. To make sure spectators didn’t lose interest, the course designers threw all sorts of additional obstacles at the Querts, from spinning propellers to flaming hoops to active high-voltage capacitor plates that crackled with power and fired streams of electricity at unpredictable intervals. The ordeal was entirely unsafe, but the Querts were a few neurons short of sentience, so as long as the event staff organizers kept the trainers’ fingers greased, everyone stayed happy.

“—and it’s neck and neck. Wings of Albion and Thundering Herd. Thundering Herd and Wings of Albion. They’re heading into the Globe of Death. One revolution. Now two. Wings of Albion takes a slight lead and—oh! He’s taken a pulse from a Tesla coil right to the thorax. Wings of Albion is down, but he looks to be ok. Yes, he’s moving his wings. Thundering Herd surges into first, but Fool Me Twice is close behind—”

As I walked, I kept my head forward, acting nonchalant—or as much as I could while skirting increasingly dense pockets of chatting race fanatics and compulsive gamblers.

“How are we doing, Paige?” I asked. “Carl get a line on the tailers?”

Barely,
she replied.
He turned the corner behind us as the crossover pulled away. Looks like a pack of four Diraxi exited the vehicle. One of them is wearing a pair of sashes, like your friend at the Veesnu chapel.

“Is it the same guy?” I asked.

Not sure,
said Paige.

I snorted. “And here I thought you were a master at distinguishing between the hard-bodied buggers.”

I am,
said Paige with a tinge of annoyance.
But I’d need a closer inspection to be able to tell. Carl, despite his exceptional vision, hasn’t been able to get a clear look at them.

“But they’re following me?” I asked.

Yes,
said Paige.
They’re headed right for you.

“And Carl’s tracking them?”

What do you think?

“Just making sure. No need to get snappy.”

I headed across the street, skirting around a pair of cabs moving at a crawl through the race crowds, before stepping into the race dome interior. The arena’s foyer spread out before me, bending to my left and right as it followed the curvature of the dome. Lifts and escalators for ushering people to the upper levels dotted the far end, slicing their way between food kiosks and margarita stands, while closer to the doors robo-vendors hawked commemorative sleeveless tees, beer steins, and Quert plushies. Images and vids of the highest ranked champions flashed in the rafters with their win-loss records listed below them, each color coded, with the reigning champion, Wing Gnat, shown in an obnoxious race dome pink. Crowd noise and blaring music surrounded me like a thick fog.