Inspector Darenson must have been doing his best to look unfazed at her wild claims, but Raiya could tell the man was struggling.
The police had to make a personal appearance after the reporting of the visitor who apparently knew her. Now in her office, Darenson was solemnly peering into his datatab frame, appearing to project his thoughts into the device.
‘I can find no record of an Ebon Standford, Doctor Fortenski. It is certainly an unusual name, most likely an alias. And since your scanning equipment failed to pick up his physog there is no way I can proceed with this investigation.’
‘I understand, inspector,’ she said with a professional mildness, which gave no genuine sign of acceptance. ‘This does all sound incredible. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if it hadn’t been for the memory retrieval I underwent.’ She then looked at him squarely. ‘You see, inspector, he is trying to erase all memory of not only his own existence but that of Torbin Lyndau.’
Darenson gave a muted sigh. ‘All I can do, Dr Fortenski, is refer my report to the national intelligence service. This is beyond my remit – and my pay grade, quite frankly.’
‘Passing the buck?’
He looked insulted at that. ‘Ma'am, I am a criminal investigator; I deal with tangible crime, crimes for which there is evidence. I will not go on some wild goose chase. But if you can find me even a scintilla of material evidence, then I will move forward with my investigation.’
‘How about the scan of Torbin Lyndau – the man who is so important his memory had to be removed from my head?’
‘As far as I’m concerned Torbin Lyndau has been dead for over a century. Perhaps someone obtained his DNA profile in order to fool your sensors, and projected a hologram. Whatever. If again he visits, you can detain him, and then of course I will personally visit. Until then, I will resume studying the available evidence.’
‘Fine. Well, thank you for all your trouble, Inspector Darenson.’
‘Sorry I could not have been of further assistance.’ He grabbed his data frame. ‘I wish you good day,’ he said in his official-mannered way, and left briskly.
She patched through a comm link to her trusted security man. ‘Jannson, I need you to gain access to all vehicle tracking records. I want to know how our mysterious Mr Lyndau left the grounds of this building.’
‘I’ll need five minutes, doctor,’ he said chirpily.
After only three minutes, he buzzed through. ‘Satellite readings give no indication of any vehicle approaching or leaving the institute around the time of our visitor. However, local sensors did register an EM disturbance consistent with a vehicle within the fifty metre radius, but for less than a microsecond.’
‘Some kind of stealth technology,’ she surmised. ‘This man must have important friends, ergo important knowledge.’
‘I think it would be a challenge to find him,’ said Jannson.
‘Then he will have to return to us.’
‘You would like me to put out a request transmission?’
‘I know a general-band signal will be inviting trouble. But at this stage, frankly, I don’t care.’
‘Any particular message?’
‘Yes, broadcast this: Torbin, I am ready to listen to all you have to tell me. If you can not visit then send a message to my e-box.’ Keep it simple, she thought. She wondered why Torbin had not already messaged her soon after she had sent him the address.
*
This time Torbin was frightened. It was like the old days when they’d first visit him. Or rather the nights. Being in this monitored compound in the side of a mountain made no difference. And neither did the darkness. If anything the light would reveal something even worse. How he wanted not to see. But somehow his eyes were forced wide open.
They all had a similar form; not that there was much to see, just nebulous white figures like the classic ghostly apparitions sometimes captured on a recording – explained away by sceptics as interference from a natural source. He was sure this wasn’t a dream, but any verification seemed out of reach. Previously, when they visited him in his waking hours – when his family had gone and his evenings solitary – they formed a head and long spindly limbs. Appearing faceless and dark as night, waving an elongated finger and shaking their heads in admonishment, as if to a small child. Soon following that, he was either in the past or made to witness it as though he were there: the bloodshed, the death.
But now, the one nearest to him kept repeating in its whispery voice: ‘You will be gone from the universe. You will be gone.’
‘That will not happen,’ he told the figure. ‘You have no power over me now.’
‘Foolish human, thinks he can stop us.’
‘We just want to save our lives. It’s a basic human drive – the need to survive.’
‘Human behaviour and aspirations are a threat to this universe.’
‘You’ve never explained that to me. Tell me what you mean. What is there to be put under threat?’
But they all collapsed into points of light, which in turn vanished.
Torbin felt sure they had genuinely visited him. But when he replayed the sensor recording there was nothing visual or on any other frequency, although he could surmise they’d be able to circumvent the sensors by creating a temporal bubble. Or perhaps, more simply, a telepathic projection. Yet, with nothing recorded, the risk of reporting may appear as evidence only of an unbalanced mental state. And so the Elusivers truly had him in a bind of secrecy.
The B’tari preferred to keep him on an even tighter (metaphorical) leash ever since he’d visited the medical sciences institute. How ironic it must’ve seemed to them, his requesting to be allowed in to a place most would have recommend he should have visited many years ago. If some had their way he’d be in a padded cell (a view he’d cultured ever since the media broadcast, when he’d declared the aliens’ existence).
Torbin couldn’t determine whether the B’tari considered him more of an asset or a liability. These days being forced to work in a team was not something that made him pleased or comfortable. After all, neither of the others had any direct contact with the Elusivers themselves. Even the B’tari didn’t really understand.
Roidon Chanley claimed his own special connection through their technology. The man thought he had a monopoly on their thought process, simply because he’d created a version of Temporal eradication. But it was a crude chaotic version that had sent Earth back no more than a century. Did anyone really know exactly what they intended? Was the human species to be wiped out completely, or just taken back to a primitive state in order to be managed? Elusivers were the self-appointed gods, monitoring all sentient life. Oh, but how that discovery must have rankled with the B’tari, who’d always thought of themselves in such a role. Now it seemed humans were the adolescents of the universe to be admonished, and the B’tari the young Turks who’d appropriated the role of protector of the human race.
Well, one day he would break free from their protection. And he would prove his independence. Starting from today.
Torbin entered the docking bay, a place were the B’tari parked their shuttles and stealth flyers that were used for earth-bound travel. He left the compound, not caring that he was being observed and most likely followed by his b’tari supervisor.
He knew how to use their technology. In the years he’d been supposedly under their supervision, he was learning how to circumvent their security systems. Adapting his own PDU as an interface so it could be used to control a flyer; a map location simply selected, and the craft would take him to that place. But today he had no destination in mind. This was simply a sojourn. He wanted to find a forest, somewhere secluded.
Even as he left through the open bay door he had the distinct feeling his supervisor was right behind him at a distance beyond his immediate perception, or in a craft as invisible as his. Over the years, however, he’d grown to accept that feeling of being under constant observation – by either the benign or the benevolent.
As the craft left the dampening zone his PDU picked up a message: Torbin, I am ready to listen to all you have to tell me. If you cannot visit then send a message to my e-box.
His heart raced. It was her; she’d finally realised his importance. Or remembered something. He entered in the location without hesitation.
Unencumbered he reached his destination, landing the craft directly within the security-monitored grounds of the institute.
To anyone watching it seemed as if he had suddenly appeared from thin air, the craft gave no indication of its presence. As far as he knew there existed no sensors that could detect it, other than B’tari tech. So it was no surprise to hear his supervisor’s voice. ‘Torbin, you would be ill-advised to enter that building.’
Torbin turned round to see the familiar white-suited figure of Zardino. ‘I’m not seeking advice,’ he said. ‘I am here to start undoing the damage I have caused.’
‘I cannot stop you, Torbin. I know you feel you have a connection with her, but you are letting your feelings cloud your judgement. There are more important things that need attention.’
‘But you have Roidon now. He knows everything, right? He can do the experiments.’
‘We value your input, Torbin, just as much as anyone else.’
‘Oh please, spare me the pep talk and just let me go in.’
‘Very well. Despite what you might think, I am not your keeper.’
The word keeper sent a flutter of anger through Torbin even though he knew the innocence of its use. ‘I never thought you were,’ he said.
Without another word Zardino turned round and vanished into his craft.
Torbin approached the building entrance. He only had to announce his his presence and he was let in.
***