Interestingly enough, TMS provided me with the kick in the rear I needed. We were returning from work one day, holding hands and talking about nothing much, coming across the street from the bus stop to the dorm, when a small vehicle pulled up across the street and its driver looked over at us. Now, individual vehicles were rare enough to cause attention and apprehension, and there was no mistaking the military green of the woman at the controls or that look of inner power on her face.
We tried to ignore her as best we could, but the TMS agent got out of the car and walked briskly and confidently toward us. When it became obvious that we were the object of her attention, we stopped. Ching gripped my hand so tightly I. thought it was going to be pulled off.
“Tarin Bul?” the Monitor asked, although she knew who I was from the time she’d left her headquarters.
I nodded. “Yes?”
“This is a routine check. Ching Lu Kor, you will proceed to the dorm and go through your normal routine. He should be back in a few hours.”
“Shouldn’t I go with him?” Ching protested. “I mean, we’re paired…”
Brave girl, I thought, but I said, “No, it’s all right, I’m sure this is just routine, Ching. You go on. Fll tell you all about it when I get back.”
She let go of my hand, hesitantly, and seemed to appeal to the Monitor with her eyes—but met only a steely blank response. The Monitor turned and walked back to the car and I followed, after kissing Ching lightly and giving her a reassuring pat and squeeze. But she was still standing there, looking frightened and upset, as the Monitor and I climbed into the car and sped smoothly out and away from the Guild sector.
It was the first time I’d been in an independent vehicle since coming to Medusa, and I paid a good deal of attention to how the officer drove the car. It seemed a simple affair, basically electric-powered and limited to city duty, with a small steering wheel and one-knob accelerator and brake. There was also an on-oflf switch, I noted, but no key or code pad. These TMS folks were pretty confident.
I knew I was supposed to be terrified and all that, but I couldn’t bring myself to look or act that way. The fact was, this was the first odd or unusual thing that had happened to me since I’d started work at the Guild and it sure broke the monotony. Besides, maybe the experience would yield some new information. One thing was sure—it was no routine check as the agent had said; I’d seen a lot of folks picked up for those routine checks, and they always took the pair or family as a group and never, never sent a personal car for them.
We went through and beyond downtown, to a small, low, black building on our right. We turned into a back alley on the side of the building, then made a sharp left and actually drove inside, gliding smoothly into a prepared stall in a garage with automatic hookups for recharging, energizing, and cold protection that came out and started work the moment we stopped and the “off” switch was flipped. The cold-weather protection was something I was well aware of; machinery wasn’t as tolerant of temperature as we Medusans, and special care had to be taken to make sure they worked correctly in our lovely climate.
“Follow me,” the Monitor instructed, and I did, walking with her to a nearby elevator, then into it, and up two floors. The doors slid back to reveal a somewhat familiar scene to me—squad rooms looked like squad rooms the galaxy over.
My monitor, who still hadn’t so much as given me a name and who wore only one stripe, checked in with the desk sergeant, then turned to me. “Your card.” She held out her hand, and I gave it to her, and she, in turn, gave it to the desk sergeant. Now I was stuck here until they wanted to let me leave.
We walked behind the desk and down a hall that led to a complex of offices, mostly with arcane names on the door. I became a little nervous when we stopped in front of a door marked subversive counterintelligence and walked in. That was too close to home. I felt a twinge as I considered that an enemy who could penetrate your deepest military headquarters might just get a leak as to an agent being dropped in their midst.
I followed my Monitor in, closing the door behind me—an old-fashioned one, I noted, with coded lock. The office was large and impressive, a big room with a desk in the center that was larger than could possibly be useful, a comfortable chair behind it, and just about nothing else. People stood before whoever belonged to this office, and probably at attention.
The chair turned and I saw that it held a tall, strong-looking woman, military-type, wearing not stripes but a major’s leaf. A big shot indeed. I was both more worried and suitably impressed.
The private approached the desk in good military fashion, came to attention, and saluted. “The citizen Tarin Bul, as ordered!” she snapped.
The major nodded casually and did not bother to return the salute. “That’ll be all, private. You may leave us.”
“As you wish!” the Monitor returned smartly, then did an about-face and walked past me to the door and was out. I was now alone with a big cheese in TMS circles here in Gray Basin, where, I understood, there was only one general and two colonels. That made this one a Department Chief—Grade 30 or better for sure.
I just stood there, well back from the desk, looking uncomfortable and curious. For a while the major just looked back at me. Finally she said, “Come here.”
I approached the desk, which still put some distance between us. Not much on the desk, either, I noted. This was a show office to impress not only folks like me but the lower-downs. The real work of this department was done elsewhere.
Again the stare. Finally she asked, “How do you like Medusa, Bul?”
I shrugged. “Better than a lot of places, I guess. I don’t have any complaints, except maybe that the job I’ve got’s a little boring.”
She nodded, not at all taken aback by my less than cringing attitude. Here was a pro, I realized from the start—but, well, so was I. Still, my demeanor was not easily overlooked. “You’re not nervous at being brought in here like this?”
“Should I be?” I countered. “Your people should know better than anybody that I haven’t been a bad boy.”
That brought a very slight smile to the corners of her mouth. That is probably true, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe we think your thoughts are impure.”
They are,” I assured her, “but they’re no threat to Medusa.”
She seemed a little taken aback by my statement, but didn’t let it get to her. Clearly she was used to dealing with a different sort of personality than mine. Well, who knew? But either I acted in character or correctly from her point of view—and I’d been on the other side of a desk like that too many times not to know exactly what that point of view was—or I triggered a greater suspicion. I was a new boy on the planet, no matter what, and I could not be expected to react like the natives.
She sat there a moment, looking me over thoughtfully. “You’re a bright boy. I almost think that you are not what you seem.”
That was uncomfortably close. She knew her business. “I haven’t been around long enough to fake much,” I retorted. “But I’ve gone through more cop interrogations and psych sessions than most old people have.”
She sighed. “Fourteen going on forty… Your situation is—unique, I admit. I know that politics played a part in your coming to us, but I suspect it was also the uniqueness of your situation. They didn’t know what to do with you.”
She paused, then asked, “What are we going to do you?”
“Is there any reason for not letting me continue to live my life?” I returned, a little surprised at this attitude. “Or isn’t it permitted to ask why I was brought here?”
“Ordinarily, no. And you weren’t brought here for anything you’ve done, Tarin Bul. In fact, you’ve been something of a model citizen. But sitting here, talking to you personally, I get this feeling about you. There is just something about you that smells… dangerous. Why do you smell dangerous, Tarin Bul?”