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Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Seven: The Case of the Missing Prajyot, Part One
🕑 Added 2025-02-02 12:30:04 +0000 UTC“I’ve never seen that girl before,” Porcupine said. “And…. Prajyot wouldn’t have just run off.”
I paused the video. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you. He’s not acting normally. Not a word to his companion, not even a glance, and he just gets in the car - before even she does.”
“You think he might have been Mastered?”
“I think it’s a possibility.”
Porcupine leaned back, staring at the image on screen. “If it helps, that’s not a real license plate.”
“How do you know?”
“MH01 A 1221? That number’s too low. A series means it would have to be the first set of vehicles registered, and 1221 means it’s the 1,221st vehicle in Mumbai to be given a license. In the history of the state.”
“You’re saying it’s not.”
“The first four characters - the MH01 - tell you the registration office. After that, the fifth character - the letter - tells you the series. You can have a maximum of ten thousand vehicles with a particular letter, then they move to the next.”
“I take it the city has more than ten thousand vehicles?”
“They registers more than two hundred thousand vehicles per year, and there’s only seven registration offices. You do the math.”
“That means - each registration office goes through three letter series per year.”
“Yeah, and it’s been that way for the last hundred years. Our professor got a new car last month. His series number is NQ.”
“Do they recycle outdated letter series?”
“No, that’s illegal. Which means the license plate is almost certainly a fake.”
Another piece of the puzzle, though not a particularly useful one. “I’ll keep digging.”
Since the local authorities weren’t likely to be of use, I decided to reach out to some non-local ones. A short e-mail to Pemberley, along with the video and a request to find out who the woman was - or any other relevant information MI6 could obtain. After that, I had another call to make - one that could only be done from a very specific place.
The Stratospheric Guard HQ in Mumbai was in the middle of a heavily fortified compound, guarded by hundreds of soldiers. Naturally, that didn’t matter when you could teleport into the middle of the yard, in full Boar Armour.
Any other ultra might have been greeted with hostility, reservation, or a few pointed questions for showing up on a base without an appointment. One of the perks of my ‘fame’? As soon as I presented my identification (which consisted of a simple ID card and showing my face), the guards on duty saluted and let me in.
The largest Stratospheric Guard bases in a country each had a dedicated Orbital Communications Room. Most countries had one OCR, located in their major city; a few had two; and the largest contributors to the Stratospheric Guard, such as the US, Brazil, Japan and India, had three.
It was from the Orbital Communications Room - and ONLY from there - that humans could place calls to Fortress Skyguard.
As such, call slots at the OCR were usually zealously guarded and reserved for months in advance. Everyone from news journalists to lawyers to family members would want to block time to contact the celebrated superheroes - and not-so-heroic ultras - who had earned a place in the Skyguard Fifty.
There were, of course, limitations on the call slots. The Stratospheric Guard reserved a full fifty per cent of all slots for its own activities. Activities that included shipping materials - everything from food to inventech weaponry - to Skyguard, receiving intelligence on alien movements, and research into improved detection and combat capabilities, based on what few secrets the Fifty could extract from that mysterious station. Most people had to wait in line and book one of the publicly available call slots.
As Agni had once pointed out, I wasn’t most people. During the design phase of the Earth Defence Bases, we’d reached out to Bastion for the best ways to defend them. That had resulted in three people - including me - being given authorization to contact Skyguard ‘at any time, for any purpose’.
Which meant I could use the Stratospheric Guard’s reserved slots for the Orbital Communication Rooms.
The OCR itself was a relatively small room, with a massive flatscreen dominating one wall. Seating myself in the solitary chair, I found myself facing a numeric keypad with a simple instruction:
PLEASE ENTER EXTENSION NUMBER.
The OCR connected to only one location - Skyguard. However, the station hosted fifty ultras, many of whom would not want the phone sounding off every time someone else was being contacted.
The simple fix to that was for each ultra on Skyguard to have a two-digit number. The number was simple - it represented their relative seniority on Skyguard. Bastion had held the number 1 since the system was first implemented, and Jetstream - the newest ultra to be called up - was 50.
Without hesitation, I typed the number 46.
The screen lit up with the image of a boy in a mask. The mask rippled with the seven colours of the rainbow, a study in elegance wedded to confidence.
The boy under the mask was a study in delight. “Belessar! It’s awesome to see you!”
“How are you, Indradhanush?”
“Awesome! Skyguard is really cool. But how’re you doing? I heard you’re going to save millions of lives?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’m working on reducing the cost of Aerovascar so we can cure everybody.”
“Yeah - I heard. Thank you for that. Mumbai’s my hometown, you know?”
“I know. I’m hopping between Mumbai and London, trying to get things in place.”
“Yeah, we heard you were attacked while protecting a medicine convoy.”
“We?”
Another head popped into the screen - a bright-eyed girl wearing a half-mask. “Belessar. It’s good to see you.”
I smiled. “Likewise, Mahotsukoi. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”
“No, no! We were just talking, and then you called.” Beneath the mask, I could swear Mahotsukoi was blushing. “Anyway, how are you? We heard about Lonavala - they said it was a close thing.”
“It was. The Archon Fragment still gives me nightmares.”
“You’ll figure out a way to beat it,” Indradhanush declared loyally. “You always do.”
“Did you get a good look at it from Skyguard?”
“Bastion ordered us not to engage on the way out,” Indradhanush said. “Said we didn’t know what we were up against.”
“That’s true enough. The thing survived a nuke going off beneath its feet. How are the Hierarchy raids now?”
“Less than usual, according to the veterans,” Mahotsukoi replied. “They used to get one attack a week, now it’s down to about one a month. Most attacks are still aimed at hitting Skyguard, of course.”
“They send swarms of shuttles from the battleships,” Indradhanush explained, “but they don’t risk the ships themselves. Mostly Grizzeloid and Sarnak boarding troopers, and we finish those off with very little hassle.”
“Reconnect has an army of drones, there are five Rangers with long-distance bombardment skills, and if anything gets close-in Herculeans and Shifters like me handle it,” Mahotsukoi continued. “And of course Bastion maintains heavy shielding on anyone who steps off the station to fight them.”
“How do you handle breathing?”
“Powered armour like yours,” Indradhanush chuckled, “only less effective and more expensive. You don’t have anything you could spare for us folks on Skyguard, do you?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Oh, a Wolf or two wouldn’t be so bad….”
I almost laughed. “Sadly, I don’t have that much Tauralloy to spare. How about a couple of Greyhounds instead?”
“What’s Tauralloy?” asked Mahotsukoi. “And why can’t you get more of it?”
“It’s a type of leather made from the skins of dead Greater Carnotaurs.”
“..... Ah. That explains the shortage of supply.”
“Wait, you make your armour from the skins of dead enemies?” asked Indradhanush.
“.... Sort of.”
“That’s metal as hell, Belessar!”
“And a bit unhygienic,” murmured Mahotsukoi. “You did get it cleaned, didn’t you?”
“Tauralloy isn’t actually skin, Mahotsukoi. It does involve some super-compressed carbon-metal structures which don’t occur naturally anywhere else.”
“Well, if you’ve got to harvest one of those things every time you want a new suit, I guess it’s not mass-producible,” sighed Indradhanush. “There is one thing I wanted to ask you - a favour.”
“Name it.”
“It’s my parents. They live in Mumbai…. Can you make sure they get Aerovascar in time?”
“Indradhanush - of course. But why do you think they won’t?”
“We hear rumours up here,” the boy said. “That the stuff is going to be incredibly expensive. That the government won’t get stocks ready in time.”
“I’m part of the people making it, Indradhanush. We’ll have it ready.”
“How soon?”
“We should have nearly five million doses ready in a few weeks. After that, it’s one batch after another - maybe everyone by March 2083?”
“See?” Mahotsukoi shot Indradhanush a pointed look. “I told you not to worry.”
“They started the plague in August,” grumbled Indradhanush.
“And it’s not even Christmas,” replied Mahotsukoi. “Your parents will be fine. The viruses don’t activate until August 2023, remember?”
“The clock doesn’t help,” grumbled Indradhanush. “I want to be able to tell them something this week….”
“Are you coming to see them?” I asked.
Indradhanush looked sheepish. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
“Hey, if you’re coming to Mumbai, that’s a good thing. Unity already made a trip - I was surprised you hadn’t.”
“Unity wanted the free booze at the party, that’s all. I wanted to save up my time for my sister’s birthday.”
“Which is this week?”
“..... no,” sighed Indradhanush. “I’m there Saturday, and I have to split my time between work and family.”
The dots connected in my head. “Saturday …. Are you there for Narayanswamy’s speech?”
“That’s Prime Minister Narayanswamy to you, and yeah. Kalachakra and some big shot bureaucrats called me up, gave this long speech about patriotic duty, calming the public, yada yada.”
“It sounds like a good thing.”
“Belessar, if the PM is personally making a speech to calm people down, then there’s a lot more going on than they admit,” said Indradhanush. “Look, I know my country. People panic. When they panic, bad things happen.”
“But I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mahotsukoi cut in. “Don’t get into a doom spiral now. Bel, can you take the time and check on his parents anyway? Maybe cure them without the Aerovascar?”
“Sure. I’d need your real name, though.”
“Aadisht Holkar.”
I blinked. “That was fast.”
“Dude, if you have to help my parents, obviously you have to know who they are. Devendra and Sumita Holkar, and we live - they live - at 1406 Prescon Midtown Bay. My sister’s name is Namita. Can you make sure all three of them get treated first?”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks, Belessar.”
“Can I ask you for some advice, though?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“I had a fairly weird experience the other day. I’m investigating a disappearance - a college student called Prajyot Venkat, who vanished off a bus from Mumbai to Pune.”
“I take it this man’s important?” said Mahotsukoi.
“Sort of. Unfortunately, I can’t explain in more detail…..”
“Got it.” Indradhanush nodded. “The best detective in the city is probably Nyaybandhu.”
“There’s a bit of an oddity. When I went to the cops, I got something of a runaround.” Briefly, I narrated the visit to the police station.
As I finished describing the restaurant-owner’s attitude, Mahotsukoi looked puzzled, but Indradhanush was nodding in understanding. “So the guy talked about fake fashion and sent you to a restaurant?”
“Yes. I’m wondering what they’re hiding. And how high up it goes.”
“That behaviour does seem strange,” Mahotsukoi commented. “The police in Japan would never act that way.”
Indradhanush rolled his eyes. “First worlders. Belessar - what were you wearing when you went into the station?”
“..... Nanofibre weave?”
“Helmet on or off?”
“Off. I wouldn’t walk into a police station in full armour, it’s just asking to get shot.”
Indradhanush smirked. “Did you tell him who you were?”
“.... It didn’t come up?”
“Okay, so there’s this trend of making fake black outfits that look exactly like nanofibre weave suits. Basically it’s a cotton-denim blend, dyed black. Very fashionable for Phoenix Company fans.”
“.... Phoenix Company has fans?”
“Of course they have fans. Everybody has fans. I have fans, Mahotsukoi has fans.”
I scratched my head, frowning. “I met someone from a Belessar-and-Nanocloud fan club in a local high school…..”
“Just one?” chuckled Mahotsukoi. “Belessar, do you not know? The two of you have one of the largest fan followings in the world.”
“.... What?”
“Yeah, the Tokyo chapter of your fan club has nearly ten thousand members. I’m surprised you met just one fan - they usually move in flocks.”
“Great migratory herds,” murmured Indradhanush, “thousands at a time…”
“I didn’t even know they existed. I mean, surely there’s better causes to be fans of….”
“Like the other ultra who threw back a Hierarchy assault, brought down a battleship, and killed a million aliens in a day,” said Indradhanush. “Oh, wait - there isn’t one.”
“.... you two did just as much to bring down the battleship.”
“And we get the credit too,” pointed out Mahotsukoi. “You just don’t use yours.”
“The cop thought you were a fake,” said Indradhanush. “If he’d realized he was talking to the real Belessar…. Well. The entire station would have been at your disposal.”
“But why does that matter?” I asked. “He could simply have told me about the case. Instead he sent me to that restaurant….”
“Who also didn’t recognize you. Dude, don’t you get it? He’s not hiding information from Belessar. He wanted a bribe.”
For a moment, my mind blanked.
“You mean to tell me,” a low growl emerged from the back of my throat, “that this idiot held up my investigation - for money?”
“Yeah. Slight difference between how the US and India work.”
I paused and counted to ten. “Then if I go in as Belessar….”
“You get everything. Or, you can ask Kalachakra to pull some strings, and then you get express access to everything the local cops have. Which, in fairness, is probably not much.”
“Thanks, Indradhanush.”
“You’re welcome, Bel. See you Saturday!”
Comments
Dennis Hornsby
Are you alive?
Danielle Warvel
Ah, the wonders of government corruption. To be fair, the U.S. has its fair share. It’s just not quite so bad that anyone could ask for a bribe so Openly without fear of consequences.
