The Alien Trace [Cord 01] (20 page)

    He strolled through the complex, past labs and offices which were now closed. During the workday, these corridors were busy. After hours, the traffic shifted to the living and entertainment areas. Perhaps he would find Julia there, where the humans ate.

    Hearing his own footsteps echoing behind him, Cord thought he had never been in a lonelier place. Ahead he could see the speedwalk in the cross corridor. It was a strangely comforting sight, reminding him of the presence of living beings elsewhere in the building. His pace increased.

    Behind him, very near, was a faint shuffling and a footfall. All languor gone, Cord spun, shifting to a fighting stance.

    The massive human was an arm's length away, weapon already leveled. Cord kicked the gun from the man's hand, feeling bones crunch. The weapon skidded down the corridor behind them. Ignoring the lost gun, the human grunted and charged at Cord, who sidestepped. His opponent was huge; wrestling with him would be dangerous. But instead of coming back to try again, the human ran down the hall and into a side corridor.

    Cord snatched up the fallen gun and gave chase. He rounded the corner wide, weapon ready for use-and stopped short. It was a cul-de-sac, and empty. There were two doors on each side, nothing more. Deliberately, Cord tried first one, then another. All were locked. Yet his quarry had not been out of sight long enough to unlock one. Even if he had, Cord was sure he would have heard a door open and close. He went to the very end of the passage to assure himself that it
was
the end and that there were no disguised doors or panels through which his assailant might have escaped. Leaning against the wall, he resorted to his empathic talent. In the distance he sensed the jumbled emotions of many, but the area around him was devoid of life. Nevertheless he passed the four doors very warily on his way back to the main corridor. Not until he was on the speedwalk did he stuff the weapon inside his shirt.

    

    

    Out of the office section, Cord's first action was to locate Hamilton K. He found the Trade Agent at a secluded table in a lounge. Cord sat down without being invited.

    K looked at him in courteous inquiry.

    "Someone attacked me when I left my workplace."

    "You surprise me."

    "But not Very much?" Cord retorted.

    Hamilton K. took a long drink of his beverage, which was pale-green and contained quantities of ice. "It was to be expected, either because of your family's knowledge or perhaps because of the humans you killed. I confess I did not anticipate that it would come so soon. Tell me."

    Cord outlined the occurrence.

    "You've got the gun he used? Good! The security department has nothing like a criminology laboratory but it can certainly get the fingerprints off it."

    "Fingerprints?" There was no one in sight, so Cord drew the gun out of his shirt and laid it on the table.

    "You touched it?" Hamilton K sounded incredulous.

    "Yes, why not?"

    "Every human-and every Mehiran, too, I'll bet-has patterns on the skin of his fingers. Everyone's pattern is different. On all human worlds, records of fingerprints are kept, so that when prints are found-on a murder weapon, for instance-a search of the files will reveal who held it. It's an important factor in criminal investigation, if the criminal isn't smart enough to wear gloves or wipe off his prints."

    Cord squinted at the tips of his own fingers by the dim light in the alcove where they sat. He did not need to see clearly in order to believe. On other occasions he had noticed the whorls in the skin, but it had never occurred to him that his might be different from anyone else's. To his knowledge, it had never occurred to any person on his world.

    "We have little crime," he said by way of explanation. "I do not think there has been the incentive to develop such a study."

    "You're a fortunate race, then. Well, perhaps we can identify the person to whom the gun was issued-if it was obtained properly. I don't imagine you could describe him?"

    "Of course I can. He was taller than I by two handspans, and I estimate he weighed half again as much. He was heavily built, yet light on his feet. His hair was brown and gathered into a band at his neck. His hands were large but not strong-looking, as if he did no manual labor. Would it not be simpler if I sketched him? There's a great deal more."

    "Can you?"

    "Certainly. It's part of my training."

    Hamilton K drained his glass.

    "Let's go back to my office."

    

    

    An odd-looking man, Cord mused, studying the drawing he had finished. The features did not seem to belong together. Cord wondered whether the man had been wearing a mask. He was sure he had set down the face exactly as he'd seen it.

    Hamilton K picked up the sheet and regarded it. ' 'If this is accurate, he should be easy to find. Strange, I don't recall his face, though."

    "In any case, I broke bones in his right hand. He would have to go to your infirmary to have it fixed. Whatever he looks like, he can't hide such damage."

    "I'll notify sickbay and security. If you go to your quarters and keep the door locked, you should be safe enough. Unless you wish a bodyguard?" K asked.

    "I do not think it is necessary." He kept the wry amusement out of his voice. If he, a Catcher, could not take care of himself, his problems were greater than a bodyguard could remedy. He would avoid the office wing outside working hours, however.

    Cord took the most heavily traveled route to his living unit, pausing only to get a packaged meal from a dispenser.

    He took it back with him, locked himself into his room, and ate in leisurely solitude. He did not turn on the light over the door-he wanted no visitors, not even Julia McKay. He wanted to think and then to sleep, and that was all.

    

    

    He was afraid. He knew that much, though he was not quite sure who he was. Things were hunting him-his whole attention was given to avoiding them. Something loomed before him, something with fangs and claws. In an eyeblink the danger passed: the fanged being stood over him, sniffed, reached out a paw to touch him-and walked away, grumbling to itself. Its bafflement and irritation, which he sensed psychically, pleased him. When it was out of range, the thing that was Cord slithered away, abandoning its rock-guise.

    He hunted, too, but by stealth, using guile to lure larger, better-armed beings to their death. He ate of them, and of prey killed by other predators, and gained power. But he was still afraid…

    

    

    Cord awoke abruptly to the sound of buzzing. Confused, he struggled off the bed and moved toward the sound-it seemed to be coming from a blank wall. He saw seams in the wall and small indentations, perhaps for fingers. He slid open panels to reveal a large gray screen with knobs and buttons below and mesh-covered openings on the sides.

    "Are you there?" a disembodied voice asked. It was Hamilton K.

    "Yes. How do I operate this device?"

    "Damn," said Hamilton K. "I'm reading your lips. Press the buttons marked A and V."

    Cord complied. A light slowly filtered across the screen and eventually resolved itself into Hamilton K's face. Cord supposed his own presented a groggy, unkempt picture. If Hamilton K thought so, he gave no indication. His face was impassive.

    "I've received reports from the infirmary and from all departments," he stated. "No one with a broken or bruised hand has been seen. There are a few people who are off duty, but I've had them checked on by their section chiefs."

    "Oh," Cord murmured.

    "Are you certain you hurt him?"

    "Yes. There was no mistaking it."

    "Then," said K after a pause, "we seem to have an enigma. There is no one injured, and no one unaccounted for. And no one who resembles your sketch at all."

    "I see."

    "I wish I could say as much," K retorted. "Security will continue to keep an open file. If anything comes up, it will be investigated. For the present, everything that can be done has been. Let me know if there's anything more you need for your project."

    "Can I reach you on this device?"

    "This is a com-screen," explained Hamilton K. "One is in every room, every office, every corridor. Opening the panel is partial activation of it-though you can change the controls to blank out the voice too. There should be a slot to the side-pull on the tab and you will see a guide."

    "Thank you," said Cord.

    In answer, the screen went dark. Cord found the small tab and pulled it toward him. A sheaf of thin, hard sheets came out in his hand. A combination of pictures, diagrams, and Multi-Lang explained the many workings. It was followed by long lists of names and room numbers, including Julia's. He debated calling her but decided against it, wanting to shower and change first, and to eat a decent meal.

    

    

    Cord chose to eat breakfast alone in the cafeteria. The humans there eyed him curiously and gave him a wide berth. He took a small corner table.

    He was busy eating when a human woman stopped by his table. Cord recognized the security chief at once from Bird's and Julia's description. Her face and body were sharp angles, her expression angry. She sat down, leaning forward on her elbows, and said, harshly.

    "I am O'as Garatua. I just want to say one thing to you. Don't make trouble."

    Behind her, tanks of aquatic plants and animals presented an eerie contrast. The woman was solid and hard against the gently moving forms and colors.

    "Why? It is not my intention to bother or inconvenience anyone except the murderer of my parents."

    "Security's my department, and the last thing I need is someone making false reports that require investigation."

    "K did tell me there was no one who answered to the description of my assailant. I can't account for it, but the incident happened."

    Cord's attention slipped to the tank behind O'as. Strange-he would have taken an oath that it had contained nothing but sea plants and a few rocks when the security chief sat down. Now there was an unattractive bluish creature floating near the surface.

    "We can find the killer without your dubious help," Garatua warned.

    "You don't seem very anxious to find the killer," Cord observed. "First you attempted to force a confession from an obviously innocent bystander, and now you want to keep me from learning the truth. What have you got to cover up?" Part of his Multi-Lang vocabulary had been acquired from a study of Terran dramatic presentations dealing with Catching. He was gaining fluency, he congratulated himself.

    "Nothing! Stev was a friend of mine, and I want his murderer. But I don't trust you, and I'll be watching you. If you do anything to endanger this installation, I'll make sure Hamilton gets rid of you. Believe me."

    She stood up and stalked off without another word or a backward glance.

    Cord, watching her walk away, wondered how much of an embarrassment a telepathy machine would be to Garatua. Enough to murder a friend? Or someone she claimed as a friend, which might be a different thing.

    His eyes went back to the tanks. The blue creature was no longer there. Cord pushed aside his dishes and went over to stare into the aquarium. It contained nothing now except gravel, sea grass, and a heap of dark rocks. The pile seemed larger than it had originally. Surely the rock resting next to the wall had not been there.

    Bending to examine the plaque below the tank, he read:

    

    
Planet of origin:
Harno

    
Species:
Shifter

    
Diet:
Smaller marine organisms

    

    Cord stopped at a library terminal on the way to his workroom. The humans' ease of access to vast bodies of information fascinated him. One need only key in the subject wanted to draw out general information and references to more specialized data. The terminal would even print out a copy.

    "Shifter-Any one of a number of species capable of changing their appearance to mimic their environment or other forms of life. Also called shape shifters and shape changers. These occur on at least eleven worlds in a variety of forms: insect, amphibian, marine, and land-dwelling.

    "There are two kinds of shape shifters. The first only takes on the general appearance, perhaps only the coloration, of its background or of some other creature. The chameleon (Terra) is an example. The second changes physically, to be an approximate or exact copy. With the physical characteristics, it may take on the abilities also. Usually the shifter can reproduce only in its true form, although reports (usually thought apocryphal) have occurred of shifters which breed while masquerading."

    A list of the shape changers with pictures and planets of origin followed. Cord found himself amazed at their diversity and at the changes they could make. In some cases, they grew larger or smaller. Some changed only to hide from predators, others to hunt.

    Cord went on to his work area, perplexed. He had intended to test the calmator but could not keep his mind on the task. Finally he decided that he needed someone to talk to. He called Julia from the com-screen.

    Her thin, composed face was reassuring.

    "I wondered when I'd hear from you, Cord," she greeted him. "I half expected you last night."

    "Something detained me last night. I would not have been a satisfactory companion."