Hunting Teddy Bears, page 4
CHAPTER EIGHT
Coulter Hazlow was soaked in sweat, exhausted. He must have kicked the pad forty or fifty times, switching from spinning back kicks to roundhouse kicks. He was starting to get dizzy.
Frank MacDonald, who taught Fitness and Martial Arts at the Academy, wasn’t impressed. He held the practice pad tight against his left arm. “Come on Coulter, is that all you got?”
Coulter stepped forward, pivoted on his left foot, and delivered a roundhouse kick with his right leg. This time the impact almost knocked MacDonald off his feet. The instructor smiled. “That’s more like it.”
MacDonald put down the pad and called out to students at the various training stations around the large room. “Time’s almost up, everyone to the hologram projector. I just have one more thing to show you.”
As the students gathered around a circular platform in a corner of the room, a 3D image of a creature about two and a half meters tall materialized. Much of it’s thick, purple skin was covered in a thin layer of orange and green fur. The upper body and genitalia were covered with what appeared to be leather.
MacDonald continued. “This is another one of the dangerous species you’re likely to encounter in deep space. Its low center of gravity makes it very stable. It’s almost impossible to knock one off its feet, without some type of heavy weapon. If for some reason, it has decided to kill you, winning in hand-to-hand combat is out of the question.”
The instructor pointed at glands on either side of its two front eyes. “If these glands are glowing orange, it’s getting angry. Not necessarily enough to attack, but it’s getting ready.”
One of the students put up his hand. “So basically, you’re about to die.”
“You can outrun it,” MacDonald replied, “so if there’s a narrow corridor, or a conduit nearby, you may be able to escape.”
The class watched as the creature closed its eyes, and a second pair of eyes opened in the back of its head.
“This is a Tarlakian,” MacDonald continued, “and it’s the only species, that we’re aware of, that has two pair of eyes in this configuration. As you may have guessed, a Tarlakian can’t focus with both sets of eyes at the same time. As the front eyes open, the back eyes close, and vise sera. If it can’t decide whether to focus on what’s in front of it, or what’s behind it, all four eyes will be partially closed, and its vision will become blurred.”
One of the students, Francine, put up her hand.
“You have a question, Ms. Jacobs?”
“Can they be reasoned with? Usually wearing clothing indicates self-awareness, so I’m assuming that with a universal translation device, you can talk to it.”
“You can definitely communicate with a Tarlakian,” MacDonald replied, “but if one of them thinks that you’ve insulted it somehow, or you’re trying to steal its mate, there’s nothing you can say to calm it down.”
“Well there you go,” Francine replied, “a universe filled with who knows how many sentient beings, and it all boils down to sex and ego.”
“Do Tarlakians have distinct genders?” asked Coulter.
“Yes, but it doesn’t really matter; both males and females are strong enough to tear your limbs off. They don’t really have any weak points, except for their eyes. Of course, if you try to attack their eyes, they will be even more enraged. Running is still your best option. The strangest thing is, they don’t hold grudges. A Tarlakian can try to kill you today, and talk to you about the weather tomorrow.”
Coulter tilted his head to one side. “So, if you talk with a Tarlakian, it’s mate might think you’re trying to make a move, and kill you. If you refuse to talk with a Tarlakian, it may take that as an insult, and kill you.”
MacDonald laughed. “What can I say? There are some species that you should try and avoid. Tarlakians are one of them.”
A short male student put up his hand.
“Yes Mr. Salarni?”
“Does anyone know what Tarlakians think of humans?”
“Most Tarlakians are content to ignore us. We aren’t considered a threat, because we don’t have a significant military presence. There are, however, some Tarlakians who think we’re
a weak species and don’t belong in deep space. One of those might kill you, just to prove humans are weak.”
“Since we can’t defend ourselves against Tarlakians,” Salarni continued, “why mention them in a martial arts class?”
“The martials arts,” explained MacDonald, “are not just concerned with fighting. You also learn to stay calm in dangerous situations. If you’re aware of your surroundings and have quick reflexes, you have a much better chance of surviving.”
MacDonald walked up to practice bag hanging from the ceiling and struck it with a spear-hand thrust, aiming almost vertically. “If you’re cornered by a Tarlakian, you can strike it in one its eyes. It will go into a rage and start swinging wildly, trying to crush you with one blow. That’s your chance to escape, because once it calms down a bit, it’s aim will get better.”
Pointing at the image of the Tarlakian, MacDonald continued. “Sentient beings that can’t control their base emotions, can be manipulated. The most dangerous aliens are the ones who think before they attack.”
A half-hour later, after taking a shower, Coulter sat across the table from Francine in the cafeteria. She already had two coffees waiting; his had one sugar, one cream, her coffee was black. That was the arrangement, who ever arrived at the cafeteria first, picked up the coffee. Francine was definitely attractive, but they’d been friends for so long, that the idea of a serious relationship felt awkward. And yet....
Francine was grinning, “Well, we just learned another way to die in deep space; by pissing off a Tarlakian. As if the list wasn’t already long enough. Now we’re going to go to Propulsion Technology, to discover how many ways we can die, due to some type of system failure. What do you think it will be today, Mr. Hazlow? “
“How about being slowly dismembered, while burning alive?” Coulter asked.
Francine raised an eyebrow, which she always did when she pretending to be serious. “And how exactly could that happen Mr. Hazlow?”
Coulter put down his coffee mug and leaned closer. “Well Ms. Jacobs, the vessel is hit by an asteroid and knocked off course, sending the vessel spinning towards a planet. The incredible G-Forces start to pull your limbs off. At the same time, because the asteroid damaged the outer hull, the interior of the vessel heats up as you enter the planet’s atmosphere. You’re ripped and roasted at the same time.”
“That’s not such a bad way to die. You’d be dead because of the G-Forces long before you start to burn.”
“I forgot to mention that the space suit keeps you conscious, preventing your chest cavity from collapsing. You keep breathing, while your limbs are being torn off, and you continue burning”
Francine laughed. “Alright genius, you’ve made you point. I can, however, think of a more unpleasant death; slowly going insane in a retail store. According to our high school history classes, torture was abolished hundreds of years ago, but I think they just renamed it Customer Service Representative. That’s what I did after classes, and on weekends for three years. What a miserable experience.”
Coulter smiled. “Yeah, I remember how much you loved working at the mall.”
“Almost as much as you loved working at the golf club,” Francine added.
Coulter took a sip of his coffee. “I supposed we both catered to the wealthy. You sold them high end clothes and I cut grass and raked sand traps. That was the golf club’s big selling point; courses maintained by real humans.”
Francine wasn’t impressed. “At least you were in the great outdoors, breathing fresh air, and watching beautiful sunsets. I worked next to one of those shops that sells bath oils and scented candles. The scents were so overpowering, I’m surprised they didn’t’ make us wear respirators. And the view? I had to look at the sagging butts of seventy-year-olds, who dressed like they were thirty. You can’t tell them the truth; like those leopard skin tights stopped looking good on them at least two decades earlier. If you did that, you’d lose your commission. Instead, you’d say, ‘you look great in that outfit.’”
Coulter shook his head. “I try not to be cynical, but it sounds like, you just didn’t care.”
Francine pointed an accusing finger at Coulter. “That’s not true. Mr. Hazlow. I did care very much about my commissions.”
After Propulsion Technology, Coulter walked out to the Academy’s parking, lot where the family’s sky car was waiting. As he slipped into the vehicle, he was surprised to discover that he wasn’t alone.
“Hello Coulter. My name is Lucia Henriquez, and we need to talk.”
“How did you get in? It was locked.”
“I know some tricks,” she replied.
Coulter watched as Lucia leaned forward, and typed a code on the control console. A symbol appeared that Coulter had never seen before.
Lucia smiled. “The windows are now two way mirrors, we can see out, but no one can see in. That particular feature isn’t listed in the user’s manual, but don’t let it bother you. The guy who put the manual together is a technical writer; he can only include information that the company gives him. It’s my job to know, what the public doesn’t know.”
Coulter had an uncomfortable feeling about his unexpected guest. “If you’re a cop, you’re really overreacting. I mean, putting the floor waxing machine on the Academy roof, that was just a prank. ”
“I don’t care about that,” Lucia replied. “I’m here, because of you.”
“Are you offering me a job?” Coulter asked. “I haven’t graduated yet. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”
“No Coulter, I know exactly who you are. And someone has to deal with the terrorists behind the Caslem Massacre.”
Coulter sat in silence for a moment. He hadn’t expected the stranger to mention the terrorist attack. “Everyone knows about Caslem. What has that got to do with me?”
“Your aunt, Dr. Angela Hazlow was killed in the attack. She spent a lot of time with you and your sister. Her death was devastating for your family.” Lucia held up a small device, and a hologram of Coulter’s aunt appeared between them.
“How do you know so much about my family?”
“The Earth Security Division” Lucia replied, “needs someone motivated enough to leave everything behind. What I am about to ask of you, will have life-changing consequences. You might be locked in an alien prison for the rest of your life, you might be tortured, you might be killed. I can’t even guarantee you’ll be able complete the mission; there are too many variables.”
“Why me?” Coulter asked.
Lucia pointed at Coulter’s head. “As well as being motivated, you haven’t been chipped yet. Why don’t you have an implant? It’s very popular.”
“Government officials love it when you get chipped,” Coulter replied, “because you no longer have any secrets. Everything you see, say, or do is recorded; you have zero privacy.”
“So what?” Lucia asked. “Doesn’t official policy state that your personal information will never be shared with any third parties?”
“A company with fifty thousand employees,” replied Coulter, “has a privacy policy stating it will never share your information. How many employees have to ignore that policy, to make it completely useless?”
Lucia smiled. “One.”
“Maybe we should get airborne,” Coulter said, “we’ve been sitting here for a while.”
Coulter gave the sky car instructions and a second later, after it had verified his voice authorization, the vehicle left the ground and started travelling across the city.
“A couple of my classmates got chipped,” Coulter continued, “and they were told they could have it removed whenever they want to.”
“Of course they can,” Lucia replied, “but as soon as the chip is removed, the government will notice you’re no longer sending data. They’ll want to know why you had the chip removed.”
“So, having a chip removed puts you under even closer surveillance, because it implies you now have something to hide.”
“Exactly. Which is why I need to work with someone who has never been chipped.”
“Since you need someone who isn’t linked directly to the Earth Security Division database,” Coulter replied, “I’m guessing your computers have been hacked.”
“It’s possible,” Lucia explained, “that whoever organized the Caslem Massacre, has hacked our mainframes. We don’t think so, but we can’t be one hundred percent certain.”
“Do you know who killed my aunt?”
Lucia leaned closer to Coulter. “This is where things start getting serious. If you want me to stop, I can leave right now. It will be as if we never had this conversation. But if I keep talking, you’ll be hearing classified information. You’ll have to sign a document agreeing never to repeat a word I’m going to tell you.”
“What would happen, if I did repeat what you say?”
“Think about it this way,” Lucia replied. “If you knew someone had information that could result in the death of your entire family, what would you do to keep him from talking?”
“Anything.”
“Well Coulter, the family I’m responsible for, is the entire human race.”
Lucia took out her phone and held it in front of him. “If you give me your thumbprint, you are swearing never to reveal anything I say.”
“Even close family?” Coulter asked.
“Not unless you get authorization.”
“Are you sure, you have the right Coulter?” he asked.
“We have your fingerprints, DNA, social insurance number, birth certificate, student ID, library card and banking information in our database. We know exactly who you are.”
As Coulter pushed his thumb against the phone, he grinned. “How many times did I fart last Thursday?”
“Twelve times.”
“It was thirteen.”
She laughed. “A strong breeze can effect the readings of the fart detection equipment.” Coulter paused in silence for a moment, as the grin disappeared from his face. “So who did it? Who killed my aunt?”
The woman tapped the digital watch on her left wrist, and the image of a creature similar in features to a human, except for a thick layer of fur, appeared.
“That’s a Therloxian!”
Lucia shrugged. “Apparently, they aren’t all peace loving. When you think about it, Therloxians would make perfect assassins, because no one is going to suspect them. If you’re a Therloxian, and you kill someone, you’re at the very end of the list of suspects. In fact, because you’re Therloxian, you probably aren’t on the list. By the time they get around to questioning you, you’re on the other side of the universe.”
“How do you know for sure they were Therloxians?” Coulter asked.
Lucia shrugged. “DNA, one of the terrorists must have been injured during the attack.”
“But that doesn’t prove that both of the terrorists were Therloxians.”
“We know they were Therloxians,” Lucia replied, “because once an adult Therloxian chooses a life-partner, it’s permanent. They are inseparable. And we know from our sources in deep space, that a pair of Therloxians are working as assassins.”
Coulter shook his head. “All I’ve ever heard about Therloxians, is how loving they are,
how caring, how peaceful. There is no way the Thorloxian government ordered the attack.”
“The Therloxian assassins weren’t working for their own government.” Lucia replied.
“Do we know who hired them, or where they are?” Coulter asked.
“I can’t share that information with you right now. But if you accept the assignment, you’ll know everything I know.”
“This is weird,” Coulter said. “Trying to imagine a Therloxian assassin, is like trying to imagine a teddy bear with a switchblade.”
“I know,” Lucia replied, “and I want to train you to hunt teddy bears.”
CHAPTER NINE
The light rail train travelled from the Tuscany Station in Northwest Calgary towards the downtown core, its body a giant solar panel that continually collected energy . Coulter’s generation was amazed that the potential of solar energy had been ignored so long. It had taken the near devastation of the environment to finally convince politicians that saving the planet, was just as important as getting re-elected.
Coulter’s eyes scanned the train’s compartment, searching for Lucia. She told him to meet her after his last class on Friday. She didn’t tell him exactly where to meet her, just to take the light rail train downtown.
“How’s it going ?”
Coulter looked to his left where Lucia stood smiling at him. Her Latino accent had disappeared and her hair style had changed. She was apparently wearing contact lenses, because her brown eyes were now green. “You should really be more attentive.”
She tapped Coulter’s elbow. “We’re getting off now.”
As they walked across the platform, Lucia handed him a card. “This is a pre-loaded debit card, that you can use during training. It would be more convenient if the credits were downloaded directly into your personal account, but then it could be traced. Your task today is to
return to the Space Academy and go to the Meditation Centre, without allowing me to take a photo of you. Remember, if I’m close enough to take a clear photo of you, then I’m close enough to kill you.”
Lucia pointed at the digital arrival board. “The next train will be here in two minutes and I’ll be getting on for three stops. That will give you a head start.”
Coulter smiled confidently. “You may lose this one.”
She leaned close and whispered into Coulter’s ear. “I don’t like to lose. In this line of work, losing means you die.”
As Lucia waited for the next train, Coulter turned and rushed through the crowd towards the end of the platform. Finding a nearby building with a Sky Taxi Service logo, he entered, and ran to the nearest express elevator. Moments later, he stepped onto a sheltered waiting area on the roof. He was in luck, an empty sky taxi was waiting.
