Terran Colony, Erda

Half a decade previous

In Earth Year 3004:

"You're a difficult one to find."

Without taking his eyes from the reports piled on the table before him, Nombert made his usual straightforward reply, "But not impossible, obviously. Who is looking for me?"

"Blakon."

"Of the Imperium Security Service?" Nombert questioned as he looked up with a raised brow.

Blakon smiled faintly.

"I've heard the name," Nombert added.

"Telepathically? That is supposed to be your psychic ability, right?" Blakon asked.

"It is. But I didn't need telepathy to pick up on information."

"We'll probably always hear variations of that. But respect will come with success, eventually," Blakon said with a shrug.

Nombert studied the other male, noting the curiously light gray eyes and scarred but striking face that spoke of strength and danger and undoubtedly prevented all but the bravest souls from expressing open ridicule. That, plus his extraordinarily high success rate as a profiler, had earned Blakon quite a lot of respect within the agency, even if this new unit of his was earning just as much mockery.

Still, Nombert had earned his own considerable reputation as a solid investigator who preferred to work alone. And who wasn't at all eager to join a team or go public with abilities he had been at some pains to conceal.

"So why are you telling me this?" Nombert asked.

"I thought you might be interested," Blakon replied.

"Oh, yes? I can't imagine why."

"Of course you can, Blakon stated as he entered the room and sat down on the other side of the table, still wearing that faint amused smile. "You saw me coming. Seasons ago, years ago?"

Refusing to reply to those dry statements Nombert stated, "I'm not on duty, in case no one told you that."

"What I was told was that you've spent at least two previous vacations here in The Terran Colony, in this same sector. And probably sitting in this same seldom used conference room of a Constabulary department that hasn't had to deal with much except traffic tickets, domestic disputes and the odd drug dealer or illegal narcotics lab in the last two decades or so. Here you sit, going over the same old dusty files, while The Colony constables shrug and keep the betting game going."

"I hear the odds are tipping in my favor because they admire sheer persistence. Most constables do," remarked Nombert. "And most constables dislike mysteries and unsolved cases. So, is that why you're here?"

"You mean you don't know?"

The mockery didn't appear to disturb Blakon in the least.

"I'm not clairvoyant. Not a seer, like you. I'm a touch telepath for your information, but not an open one. Not that touching you would necessarily help me to read you. Virtually every psychic I've known has developed a shield to guard themselves," he sternly pointed out

"Then you just assume I'm psychic, is that it?" Nombert sarcastically said even though Blakon's specific reference to "seer" meant he was doing more than assuming.

"No. I know you're psychic. The same way you know I am because we tend to recognize each other, not always, but most of the time."

"So when do we exchange the secret handshake?"

"That would be just before I give you your decoder ring." Blakon shot back.

The clever comeback surprised a laugh out of Nombert. He hadn't marked Blakon as a male with a sense of humor.

"Sorry. But you have to admit, an Imperium Security Service unit made up of psychics is pretty off the wall. It's almost like something straight out of an ancient comic book. But that won't always be the case." Blakon assured him.

"You really do believe that, don't you?"

"Science is revealing more every day about the human brain. Sooner or later, psychic abilities will be correctly classified as just another set of senses, like sight or hearing, just as normal and just as human."

"And you won't be head of the Imperium Security Service anymore?" Nombert questioned, settling back into his chair.

"Let's just say that it's only a matter of time before the doubts and disbelief are proven wrong. We only have to be successful."

"Ah, well, is that all?" Nombert shook his head. "The closed case to open ratio in the Imperium Security is running at what, about forty percent right now?"

"The I.S.S. will soon be doing considerably better than that!"

Nombert wasn't sure what he would have replied to the other male's optimism. But an interruption presented itself when a member of the Terran Colony Constabulary Department appeared in the doorway.

"Nombert, I know you're supposed to be on vacation," Sectiongroupleader Vilsen said with only a glance toward Blakon, "but I thought you might be interested in this. And the Actiongroupleader approved me telling you."

"What's up, Vilsen?"

"We just got a call. A little female's gone missing."

Nombert was on his feet immediately.

"Don't tell me ... at The Colonial Hotel?"

"Yes, at The Colonial."

When the sprawling hotel had been built back around the turn of the thirtieth century, it had been the ultimate in new design and construction. Named after some old Terran war hero, now long forgotten, for more years than anyone remembered, it had been called simply The Colonial, and somewhere along the way the owners had given up and accepted that name.

The hotel had been a favored vacation spot of the wealthy and reclusive fairly consistently throughout its history, for both its grandeur and its exclusivity. Far from any other inhabited planet, like Earth or Mars, it was in The Terran Colony on Erda. A distant planet as far away from the others as one could get, especially in the thirty-first century of instant or near instant intra-galactic transportation and communication.

But for all its outpost location, The Colonial Hotel had more than its fair share of quaint amenities to tempt guests to make the journey to its doors. Its large main building and numerous cottages all boasted spectacular views of the surrounding hills, and among its other attractions were many kilometers of winding trails for hiking, beautiful gardens, a huge clubhouse holding both an Olympic size swimming pool and indoor tennis courts and an exceptional eighteen hole golf course.

Add to all that a highly trained and discreet staff ready to pander to a guest's every whim. Lovely rooms and cottages with luxurious beds and bedding that guests had been known to purchase after a visit. Plus the finest spa facilities. And you had a hotel that had kept The Terran Colony on Erda in memory. Or at least on the listing of exotic vacation spots.

"The only problem," Nombert told Blakon as they got out of Nombert's shuttle in the circular driveway in front of the main building, "is that the place has a nasty habit of losing humans ... and they're almost always Terran children."

"I don't imagine they include that in the brochures," Blakon mused.

"No." Nombert shook his head. "To be fair, there isn't really a pattern to the thing unless you have the sort of suspicious mind I have. And from what I've been able to piece together over the years, the dead and missing, though usually connected to the Hotel in some way, are almost never guests. It's usually the offspring of inhabitants who work here, or in the general area, mostly. You know Erdans. And other humans in this part of the Galaxy don't open up to outsiders or want anyone meddling in their business."

"You mean even when that business is a missing offspring?"

"They're the self reliant sort, believe me. They get their hunting creatures and their photon guns and go looking themselves. In the old days, no one even bothered to report any kind of problem to the Constabulary. And, as far as I've been able to make out, it's just as often true in recent years," Nombert told him.

"What sort of time frame are you talking about?"

"I've gone back two decades, at least. And found half a dozen suspicious accidents or illnesses, as well as one unquestionable murder. Not statistically significant for a hotel with as many humans passing through as The Colonial can claim, according to the books. But I'm not buying it and..." He hesitated briefly.

Blakon waited a moment, then prompted, "And?"

"And there have been at least five unsolved disappearances connected with this place, most but not all young offspring."

It didn't take psychic ability to know that Nombert had changed his mind about what he'd been about to say, but Blakon didn't press him. He merely said, "I think if I were a parent, I'd hesitate to bring my son or daughter here."

"I agree."

Nombert was frowning as he watched Vilsen and another of The Colony constables speaking to a clearly distraught male near the Hotel's front steps.

"And you keep coming back here to find out why this place seems to be ... cursed? You, yourself said most constables dislike mysteries, especially the ones that touch them personally," Blakon gently reminded him.

Nombert's frown became a scowl. But he didn't reply since Vilsen turned and moved toward them, indicating with a jerk of his head that they should join him.

"According to the female's father," he told them, "she's not the type to wander off. The mother was having a day at the spa, so he and his daughter were spending the day together. Shuttle riding this morning then a picnic lunch out in the blossom garden. But the cart The Colonial provided didn't have the female's favorite drink, so he went in to get it. Says he wasn't gone more than a few moments, though it was probably longer. When he got back to their blanket on the grass, she was gone."

Vilsen sighed. "Half the staff's out looking for her, but they didn't call us for awhile."

Blakon asked, "They've covered the grounds nearest the buildings, then?"

"So they tell me." Vilsen replied.

"I know why Nom turns up here every so often, but what about you, Blakon? The Actiongroupleader said you were here to talk to Nom, but might be willing to help us out with this."

"I'm always willing to help search for a youngster," Blakon offered.

"Did anyone see her after the father left her in the garden?"

"No one we've talked to so far. And there were other picnics going on in other parts of the garden. It's a Hotel tradition, especially in summer, like now. But all the others were couples, and my guess is they were too wrapped up in each other to pay attention if a child wandered by." Vilsen reported.

"What about if she was dragged or carried past?" Nombert demanded.

"Humans notice what's out of the ordinary. If the child had been resisting or protesting, someone would have taken note. Assuming she was seen at all." Vilsen added. And there's no sign of a struggle of any kind, Nom. We won't find footprints in a garden that's mostly grass and flagstone paths, though we are checking the flowerbeds. The only thing the little girl left behind was the sweater she was wearing earlier. I've called in one of The Colony search and S.I.S. expert DNA tracer teams. They should be here within the next few minutes."

"What's her name, Vilsen?"

"Carina. Her father says she's never answered to a nickname. She's eight."

Nombert turned without another word and headed in the direction of the blossom garden out behind the main building.

"There goes a fellow with demons riding him," Vilsen expressed almost absently.

"What sort of demons, Sectiongroupleader?"

"You'd have to ask him. All I know is what I've observed the last couple times he's been here. And all it tells me is that he's haunted by a crime no one's been able to solve in two decades of trying. The difference is, Nombert just can't let it go."

Blakon nodded slightly, but all he said was, "We all have that one case, don't we? The one that haunts us. The one we dream about at night."

"Yes. But there's another difference for Nombert. The case that haunts him is right out of his nightmares and his own childhood," Vilsen said.

"I know," Blakon replied.

It was, everyone agreed, creepy enough that a child had vanished right out of a bright blossom garden on a sunny summer afternoon. What was even more chilling was when the search and I.S.S. robot, after examining Carina's little pink sweater, strangely shut down and stopped functioning.

"Has it ever done that before?" Blakon asked as he directed his question to the robotics engineer, who shook his head adamantly.

"Never! DX-183 knows his job, and it's the best tracker I've ever had. I don't understand it," the engineer explained.

He went to the dead machine, murmuring to himself. Vilsen shook his head as well, baffled. And he told those of his staff who had been standing by to continue searching without the aid of any robot.

"If you have any special expertise to offer, now would be the time," Vilsen suggested

"Yes," Nombert agreed, staring at Blakon challengingly. "Now would be the time."

"I don't know the terrain here as well as the rest of you," Blakon explained, "but I'll do my best. Nom, perhaps you could show me the layout of these gardens?"

"And I'll go talk to the father again," Vilsen spoke with a sigh.

Nombert watched the constable stride back toward the main building.

Then he spoke to Blakon in a lowered voice, "All right, so no magic show for the Erdans. I get that. But whatever abilities I may have aren't telling me a damned thing, and I'm hoping yours can be a lot more help in finding this little girl."

"Telepathy won't help," Blakon stated, his own voice low, "but there's another little talent I have that might."

"What is it?"

Without answering that specifically, Blakon stated, "I need a high place, somewhere I can see as much of the surrounding area as possible."

"The main building has an observation tower. Will that do?"

"Lead the way," Blakon said as he wrapped an arm around Nombert's shoulder.

The 'tower' was little more than a cupola jutting up from the roof on one side of the Earth style building, housing a twenty-five meter circular room whose shutters were left wide open in summer. Since The Colonial was centered in a sprawling valley, it was possible to see for kilometers from this vantage point. Blakon was silent until they reached the top of the stairs and the tower.

"I've always believed androids are sensitive to things most humans are oblivious to. Things beyond even their own keenest senses," Balkon stated.

"Unfortunately, they can't tell us what's upset them. Or are you telepathic with machines as well as humans?" Nombert inquired.

"Humans only, I'm afraid, and not much more than half of them. You know these extra senses of ours are as limited as the usual five." Blakon admitted jokingly.

"I don't know a whole hell of a lot about the subject, if you want the truth. And there's not much science on it, at least that I could find. I wasn't very interested in most of the screwed-up theories masquerading as science," Nombert said, moving to the side of the tower that overlooked the garden area.

"Join the I.S.S., and I can guarantee you'll learn everything science and experience can tell us about psychic abilities, especially of your own and others," Blakon added.

"I'm not what you'd call a team player."

"That I can live with," Blakon expressed, joining him and gazing out over the gardens.

"I need a seer, Nom, and they're rare."

"I don't see anything. I just know things sometimes," Nombert finally admitted. "Fucking useless, most of the time, pardon my French. I can tell you that the communicator is about to ring. That it's going to rain. That I'll find the keycard I lost in some unlikely spot."

"But sometimes," Blakon explained, "you know where an important piece of evidence will be found, or precisely which questions to ask of which suspects. Or which line of an investigation is going to be a dead end."

"You've been reading my file," Nombert stated after a moment.

"Well, of course. You're one of the few psychics I've been able to find already in law enforcement and the only one already within the Imperium Security."

Nombert glanced at him and then shrugged. "I've never been able to use my ability as an investigative tool. It's never been under my control in any sense."

"We'll teach you how to exert whatever control is possible. Teach you how to focus and channel your abilities and, more importantly, how to use them to aid an investigation," he explained, turning Nombert toward him and placing both hands on his shoulders

"Will you? Can you do it?"