Excerpt from ‘The Hunt for Elias Weber’

It had all gone like clockwork, Elias thought, as he furtively entered the elevator in the Millison apartment tower. After what seemed like a decade, but was actually less than three months of Earth time, he had finally found an outbound passenger that bore a good resemblance to himself and was about the same age. His intended victim, Andrei Kalowski, was returning to Earth on compassionate leave, except he wasn’t—not any more.

Elias wore a dark hooded jacket over his regulation Martian clothes, all the better to cover his face. As always, he wore his gravity boots, tuned to compensate for the low gravitational force on Mars, and on his back he carried a lightweight knapsack that contained all the requisites for his Earth-bound expedition. Any other things he may need could be obtained from his Earth-based Tellurian contacts—his subordinates in another life, before he had volunteered for the ill-fated lunar base.

He’d had to tell Stella Browning his plans for the return to Earth, of course, and initially she had wanted to join him, but he soon put that notion to rest. One deception was more than enough to have to handle. There would be no further baggage. Much too risky. He had persuaded her that she could better further the Tellurian cause simply by remaining covertly undercover on Mars. Hopefully that discreet silence would remain in place for the four Earth hours it would take the Rbuzen mothership to travel to Earth.

As the elevator stopped at the third floor in the residential tower, Elias checked the time. The alien ship would leave in under two hours, and he would be on board masquerading as his imminent target. Kalowski was his passport to Earth, and he was not to be afforded any sympathy whatsoever.

Elias left the elevator and strode purposefully down the corridor, well aware that his every movement would be surveyed on the security video. Not that any observer would be able to recognize him with his jacket hood pulled well down over his face. The mustache was gone, of course. Kalowski didn’t have any facial hair whatsoever. Removing it had been traumatic, almost like losing an old friend, maybe worse. Unlike people, it would start to grow back again once he had disembarked the mothership on Earth.

As he approached the door, there was no quickening of his heartbeat. Everything was under control. His palms were dry, his mind concentrating on the task ahead. Stella was five minutes behind him, long enough for what he had to do. She had a crucial role to play over the next few hours, at least until the mothership had set him free and he was on his way to Damien Dayananda.

Stopping outside Kalowski’s apartment, Elias touched the call button and grasped the laser in his right hand. He scanned the name on the door—Andrei Kalowski. Soon to be me, he thought. If all goes well.

A high-pitched voice, full of displeasure, emanated from the door: “What?” Kalowski obviously did not want to be disturbed. Who would when they were about to be lasered?

“Delivery,” Elias replied. “Special flight data pack.” Would Kalowski buy it? If not, he would have to cut the door lock out.

For some seconds it appeared that the door would remain firmly shut, but then the panel slid aside with a welcoming swish. Elias stunned Kalowski at point blank range. Pocketing the laser, he dragged the inert body inside and closed the door. Unless he had made a mess of his hacking investigations, there would be nobody else in the apartment. A nervous moment was born with visions of a recently acquired roommate, but it passed. There was no one else here.

Kalowski’s abode was a relatively small unit, gathering the basics of human existence on Mars within its parsimonious clutches: neatly-furnished lounge, kitchenette, restroom, bedroom, comm corner and not much else. Much like his own quarters really. Larger accommodations were for the likes of Jason Sinclair and his human and alien cronies from ACE.

The Alien Collaboration Enterprise was founded by a certain Colonel Norma Millison decades ago following alien contact at Milijun, a research base in South Australia. It had been a branch of the military before growing into a worldwide organization—an organization that the Tellurians opposed, hated, and eventually banished from Earth.

All water under the bridge now, but Elias could not accept that things had taken such a turn for the worse on the mother planet, and he flat out refused to believe that Damien Dayananda was involved in any way.

There was a packed bag on the table. Kalowski had been ready to go. A search of the bag revealed nothing of interest.

He checked Kalowski’s body and found what he wanted—his victim’s commphone wherein would lie the interplanetary journey’s custom code. At this stage Elias realized that he was sweating and cursed this particular weakness as if he did not consider himself human. Everything was fine, he told himself. Everything was on course. Nothing could go wrong.