The Debt Collector

By Tarry Ionta

Bar’T is a hired killer for Tempora-Plus. He is conditioned, and all but his most recent memories erased. His sole purpose is to terminate those who fail the terms of their contract. But who is he?
Join him in his struggle to regain his memory and identity, and ultimately take on the might of a powerful corporation.

Also included is a miscellany of entertaining short stories, of mixed genres.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tarry Ionta
• Release date: Nov 16, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452384115

Tarry Ionta

Born 1933 of Italian parentage. He served in the RAF and worked at various occupations before entering Glasgow University at thirty, to study Maths, Physics, and Astronomy. He completed one year before dropping out to become a telegraphist. Finally, completing his working life with British Telecom Finance Department. His Interests and hobbies comprise mainly of chess, and reading science fiction. He has also had a keen, practicing interest in computing and martial arts (Judo and Shotokan Karate) and music (Saxophone, Clarinet, and Piano - Over twelve years with City of Glasgow Military Band). Now retired and no longer active in those fields, he prefers to concentrate on writing. He has been writing since 1988, having written over fifty varied short stories, a few articles, novellas, novels, and a children's fantasy book. Several short stories have been published in anthologies and on the Internet. A few have also been short-listed in the WRITER'S NEWS monthly competitions. He continues to write.

Book preview

THE DEBT COLLECTOR

A SF/Adventure novella & other short stories

by

Tarry Ionta

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 ISBN 978-1-4523-8411-5

License Notes

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Copyright 2002 by iUniverse

ISBN: 0-595-23417-8

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Chapter 1

From the high vantage point on the narrow balcony, Bar’T had a panoramic view of the massive courtyard. He leaned on the rail of the balustrade, both hands firmly gripping the tubular alloy. His barrel chest moved rhythmically with his breathing, as his powerful physique threatened to burst the shirt that clung to him like molded plastex. He viewed the scene before him, dispassionately. Tiny figures scuttled about, aimlessly it seemed, like ants bereft of their nest; moving without purpose or reason.

It was impossible for him to identify anyone from so far off, but he knew his quarry was among the seething mass of people. After tracking him for three Earth months and across three planets, he was not about to let him slip through his fingers now. And time was running short. He would have to complete the contract very soon. While he was still able to.

From the small black container slung over his right shoulder, he withdrew a pair of innocent looking binoculars and raised them to his eyes. He swept the crowd in an arc that covered the whole courtyard, concentrating more on the small internal pulse of white light than on his view through the lenses. He scanned for several minutes before the pulse changed to a deep crimson oscillation.

‘Now I have you,’ he said under his breath. His roughly chiseled face was totally devoid of expression, the deep-set eyes, cold gray marbles. It was a statement of fact, emotionless and impersonal. He was incapable of feeling emotion.

He pressed a slight protrusion on the side of the instrument as the pulse was replaced by a series of numbers. From the container, he withdrew what looked like a child’s plastex ball. A quick practiced twist and it came apart, revealing a dial in one half. The other portion contained a miniature circuit board crammed with minute electronic components. He set the dial, reading from the numbers registered by the scanner, rejoined the two halves of the sphere, and then dropped it into the courtyard.

He watched it as it fell parallel to the side of the tall leisure tower. It hit the ground as a tiny speck, fully five seconds after it had been released. It bounced several times, then came to rest among some small ornamental bushes. He pressed the unobtrusive button a second time, then viewed the courtyard till he had his quarry once more in his sights. He waited and watched.

In the brief spell of inactivity, uninvited thoughts forced themselves into his consciousness, and a strange feeling of disorientation flooded his mind. Perspiration formed on his forehead and upper lip, and a cold ripple crawled down his spine. The courtyard undulated and faded into a blur, the human ants merging into a dark mass, waving about like an oil slick on a rough sea. Vague memories surfaced; elusive and out of reach. Images, sounds, and strange emotions, all interwove into a jumbled mess of color that swirled in his brain.

Where was he? Who was he? What was he doing?

Through the turbulence in his mind he could see a large room, shadowy and indistinct. It was filled with strange equipment. Hazy, white coated figures ringed a male figure strapped to a chair. Electrodes were being connected to his head as he fought and struggled like a madman. Eventually, exhaustion forced the man to be still. He strained to see the figure; tried to identify it. But the haze kept getting in his way.

Suddenly the view changed, and through a mist he saw a strange landscape. Angular, but somehow oddly familiar buildings were silhouetted against a pale lilac background. The cloudless sky suddenly faded into dark nothingness.

The relapse lasted no more than a few moments, then a protective shutter closed on his mind. The momentary weakness that had filled his body passed, and he was himself again, cold, calculating, emotionless; the perfect killing machine. But a vague memory lingered.

Thirty seconds later he saw the distant figure collapse in a heap, his female companion dropping down on her knees beside him, distraught, concerned. The drama was tiny, but the actions were unmistakable. The two figures were immediately the focal point of a large, curious crowd that gathered around them, pressing closer, until they blotted out his view.

With no sign of emotion, Bar’T calmly put away the instrument, and headed for the gravpad that would take him down to the courtyard. He knew the man was dead, beyond all doubt. The Beta-wave generator did its work efficiently and dispassionately. It had never failed him before.

He neared the spot where the deadly orb had landed and passed it with hardly a glance. Within a few minutes the sophisticated circuitry would be a mass of fused metal and plastex, unrecognizable to any investigation. His assignment had been completed. Earth was his next port of call.

The sleek silver dart rested on its cradle, engulfed in a surrealist glow from the twin lamps of the binary system. Its nose was pointed towards the pale crimson sky at an angle of thirty degrees. It rested peacefully, disinterestedly, as the spaceport crew rushed around with last minute preparations for the take-off.

With a sudden roar, as all engines fired in unison, it moved forward, slowly, like the dream sequence from a holographic movie. It seemed to pause in mid-air for the briefest of moments, then sprang forward; a panther with the kill in sight. In a few seconds it became a bright spot against the colorful curtain of the sky. And then it was gone, swallowed by the vast emptiness of space.

On board, Bar’T lay back on his recliner, desperately attempting to relax and failing badly. Strange things were happening inside his head; strange stirrings; strange thoughts. It was an experience new to him, at least, he had no recollection of it having happened before. Oddly, that was not the only thing he could not remember. Everything beyond the past few years was a total blank.

So why was he questioning it now? Why was he trying to force his mind into the dark abyss, to root out memories that he knew must exist there? It had never occurred to him to do so before. He had always accepted it as a fact; of no real importance. His body was also beginning to suffer the ill effects of the disturbance in his brain; short, uncontrollable fits of shaking. Burning one moment, freezing the next. It was the first time he had allowed his treatment to become overdue to such an extent. Now he deeply regretted the impulse that had made him fight off the warning signals. But his quarry had been so close, the assignment so near to completion.

He had been warned, as he was at all treatment sessions, never to exceed his allotted time in the field. Now he was heading back to Earth, desperate to put an end to the disturbing manifestations that were beginning to wrack his whole body. Only there would he find the relief he sought.

Chapter 2

Susan Winthrop knelt beside the body of her brother Velm, her pretty face marred by tears of anguish. She had lived with the threat for many months, knowing that the organization would get him sooner or later. They were merciless, inhuman. But still, she had harbored the hope that somewhere in the universe there was a tiny corner where they could hide, take on new identities and make a new life for themselves. It was a lie she had created to protect her sanity.

She was barely conscious of the hands that were tugging at her shoulders, caring hands sympathetic hands. She was lost in her grief, a grief that was slowly turning to smoldering anger. Why was such a thing possible? Who had given them the right to act as self appointed gods. To give life, and then take it away again?

From nowhere they had come. And after nearly ten years, it still remained a mystery who they were. They appeared to be human, but they were so rarely seen that all anyone could say was, they looked human. There was nothing in their manner or speech that suggested otherwise, and yet, there was the anomaly that could not be ignored. Their medical technology was far superior to anything earth had ever seen before.

Like Greeks, they had come bearing gifts, the gifts of life and health. But there was a snag. There always was. Somehow they had manipulated the law. For they also had the power to take life. And while there was always the wealthy, the prominent, and the politically powerful who were willing to pay for the privileges they offered, that law would never be repealed.

As Susan rose, aided by helping hands, she gathered her emotions together. A cold, calculating hate filled her mind. ‘They won’t get away with it,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Not this time.’ She could not take on the might of the organization, but somehow, she would hunt down the killer; the hand that had dealt the fatal blow. It would be a small breach in the wall of power they hid behind. But at least, if she could not weaken the structure, she would have the satisfaction of knowing that there would be one cruel assassin less roaming the universe. And who could say? If it turned out to be a key member, she might even hurt them, just a little bit.

After Susan had arranged for the registration and recycling of her brother’s body, she headed back to the courtyard. It seemed a forlorn hope, but she had to start somewhere. It was the only chance she had. Somewhere in the vicinity of the courtyard, the killer had hidden. There was always the possibility that something had been left behind, some little clue that she could use to help her trace the assassin. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind where he had come from. The fact that her brother had been in perfect health, and that not a mark had been left on his body, was enough for her. It was the kind of death that had become commonplace in the past