Buck Roger XXVC #00.5 Arrival

by M S Murdock

  Chapter 5

  Kemal took the Pavonis Space Elevator, to lnter-change Point 3, and then a chemical rocket, the Newyorg, which made the Mercury run in just over three days.

  Chemical rockets weren’t comfortable ships, but they were all there were because of the limited tourist travel between Mercury, Mars, and Earth, Sleeping accommodations were little more than crawl spaces, except for Kemal’s, which was small but luxurious. It was only later he learned that Garrick had paid the chief petty officer to give up his cabin for the flight. It was a gesture of goodwill from his least offensive uncle, no doubt, but it left Kemal embarrassed. He would rather have been treated like the other passengers.

  Spaceflight was not new to him; he had been to Deimos and Phobos on academy training missions, and had gone several times to Vesta and Ceres in the Asteroid Belt. The difference was that he now traveled alone. Always before he had been with classmates, since, like most military fraternities, the cadets of John Carter lived together in barracks, went on holidays together, even took their weekend leaves together In groups. During his ten years at the academy, Kemal had rarely been alone for more than a few hours.

  He woke up that first day in space alone in his cabin, and lay in bed just savoring the solitude.

  Going home. The thought made him laugh. Mercury was nothing to him. His Uncle Gordon had made sure of that, sending him away as hastily as he could, and making sure he stayed away. Gordon couldn’t just cut him off, of course; that would have been a scandal, and the Gavilans avoided scandal. But he had done the next best thing: Buried Kemal in one school alter another, keeping him on an allowance sufficient for his needs but not enough to let him do anything he really wanted to do.

  Not that Kemal necessarily knew. At twenty years old, an age when most young men had their lives mapped out he was still dangling on the end of a string that led back to Mercury.

  Why were they bringing him back now to Mercury Prime? And where would they send him next? He didn’t know. He knew only that if he got the chance he’d make himself independent of them.

  He needed money. And he had a right to it. There was his father’s personal fortune, left for Kemal in trust, the money that Gordon had been doling out to him over the years.

  And if he got it, what then? There were plenty of inhabited planets and moons in the solar system plenty of things for a young man to do. If he could get his hands on the money that was rightfully his, he’ d turn his back on Mars, and on Mercury, too; he’d reject the place as it had rejected him, and go somewhere else, Venus or the asteroids, perhaps, a wealthy young man, and make his own life.

  He washed, shaved, brushed his teeth, dressed, and went out to mix with the other passengers.

  Kemal got into conversation with an elderly Earth couple who were taking a long-awaited grand tour of the inner system: Mercury, Venus, Mars, and one or two of the asteroids.

  “It’s our first time off Earth,” Edgar Shaeffer told him “Jean and I were expecting great things. We’d read all this stuff about the romance of space flight. But, really, you can see more on a television show. This ship has only a few places from which to observe space And when you look, there’s nothing to see.”

  “That’s space," “Mrs Shaeffer said She was a plump, red-cheeked woman. “And what about you, young man? Why are you going to the fiery planet?”

  Kemal knew she wouldn’t have believed the truth, and he didn’t want to get into it. “Actually,” he lied, “I’m an archaeology student from Coprates University, on my way to Mercury on a study trip.”

  “We’re spending two days on Mercury,” Mr. Shaeffer told him.

  "We’re booked to visit Kallag in the Maccabbee Caverns, and we’ve got a two-hour stop at Mercury Prime. That’s the satellite home of the Gavilans, you know." “So I’ve heard," Kemal said.

  “It’s supposed to be one of the art treasures of mankind.” Mrs. Shaeffer said.

  They were happy to tell Kemal at great length about Mercury Prime. They had a lot of information, most of it culled from the New Frommer Guide to the Inner Planets. Raised under the tenets of the shrewd Martian industrial-military complex, Kemal was amazed, yet bored, by the couple’s naivete. He excused himself after a while and returned to his cabin. Compelled to his solitude, Kemal remained there and slept until the viewscreen announced that Mercury could be seen to good advantage through the forward viewport. Instead of going and having to deal with the Shaeffers again, he dialed up the view on his screen.

  At first there was nothing to see, only the bottomless black pit of space. And then the ship rotated slightly. Automatic polarizers darkened the glass so that passengers weren’t blinded by the enormous glowing fireball swimming against the dead black of space. And there was Mercury’s bright side, jagged, wild, a world without blues or greens. A strange, fiery, red-brown-black-purple landscape without a hint of blue or green. He could make out deserts and mountain ranges. Mustard yellow clouds writhing and twisting over the surface. Active craters pouring out dense yellow smoke. There were a few dark objects moving across the surface-the Maripogaa butterfly shaped orbital habitats, where Mercury chemical and energy reserves were stored.

  Then the ship crossed the terminator, the line of separation between Mercury's dark and bright sides. On one side of the terminator, all objects were bathed in unbelieved brilliance; on the other, unbelieved darkness. The terminator stretched from pole to pole and presented a continually shifting and changing band of light and dark. Long shadows came up swiftly across the rugged surface, as the sun, four times as large as it appeared from Mars, dropped down toward the horizon. Then the ship crossed into the dark side and the passengers were plunged into frigid blackness.

  The ship’s braking orbit brought them around to the bright side again, and Kemal could make out what looked like railroad tracks across the cracked desert surface. These were the radiation collectors, an experiment tried by a previous generation and abandoned in the present generation. The Track Cities now used the collection trails, moving slowly along the surface, mining the ore deposits that could be reached on either side of the track. The Miners of the Track Cities were few, but they had somehow managed to adapt to the hard radiation that constantly bombarded the surface.

  The main population centers of Mercury were now in the Warrens, the underground cities that had grown extensively over the last twenty years. By previously established protocol, the spaceship’s flight was no closer than one hundred kilometers to the Maccabbee Caverns, where the two leading Warrens shared an extensive underground cave system.

  The ship turned again toward space, and the cabin speakers came on. “Prepare for disembarkation at Mercury Prime.”

  Chapter 6

  As the Shaeffers had described, Mercury Prime was the orbital home of the Gavilans.

  Seen in the approach, it resembled a carved and ornamented cylinder floating free in space. It was a miracle of ornamentation; every inch of it was covered with carvings, bas-reliefs, statues, and friezes. It was one of the wonders of the Inner Solar System, built during the free-wheeling days of Bahlam, the first Sun King. Legend said that a craftsman had died for each square meter of its making.

  As the ship descended, the cylinder grew rapidly in size. More and more features became evident, and Kemal had the feeling that he was coming down to a world infinite in scope and variety.

  The ship’s public address speaker squawked again. “All passengers, please proceed to the main exit. Have your passports and health documents ready. Your baggage will be waiting for you on the other side of the customs barrier.”

  Kernel left the cabin and went down the corridor to the exit port. He entered, and the valved door closed with a sigh of air. Kemal saw the overhead lights glow, denoting the brief irradiation that would remove off-planet bacteria. Then there was another hiss as the other door dilated. He swallowed hard and stepped out onto Mercury Prime.

  As Kernel went through the doorway, he was met by a tall, thin, balding young man in his
mid-twenties.

  “Hail, Prince Leadfoot! You made the trip in record time, but you’re not supposed to fly your own shuttle, you know,” joked the lanky, one-man reception party. “You’re Kemal, of course. I’ve seen holes of you in the family album. A couple of years out of date, but no mistaking the resemblance. Welcome to Mercury Prime.”

  “Thank you: ’Kemal said “Who are you?”

  "Don’t you remember me? I’m Tix, Gordon’s youngest-your cousin.”

  When Kemal had last seen him, Tix had been a Chubby, depressed boy. Now he seemed much changed with a harassed, nervous look. He glanced around often, seemingly by reflex, since there were no people about and he tugged absentmindedly at his lower lip as he spoke. Yet his glance was shrewd appraising, and intelligence gleamed 1n his narrow blue eyes.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” Tix said. “I’m very glad to see another young, royal face. It’s lonely being a prince”

  “You needn’t tell me? said Kemal. “I’m the one who’s been on ‘holiday’.”

  "Well, glad to have you back.” Tix took Kemal’s satchel from his hand and led his guest down a guarded corridor, away from the landing bay. “I’ve been dying for someone to really talk to. That is, if Your Highness doesn’t mind.”

  “'Tell you what, Tix. I’ll grant a whole day of prime to-prince discussion if you’ll tell me why your father wants me back. Deal?”

  “Deal. Granted, I don’t know specifics, but its got to do with something you inherited from your father: land, titles, money, I don’t know. That’s all I can tell you. I do hope you’ve got lots to tell me. Dalton certainly isn’t much company now that he’s in the military.”

  “Dalton’s in the military?”

  “Yes Two years ago, my brother entered the Mercury Prime Security Forces as a sergeant. Now he’s thirty-two and already colonel. Needless to say, he takes his duties very seriously. In fact,” Tix said, lowering his voice, “even Father himself is wary of Dalton’s ambition.”

  “What does Dalton look like these days?”

  “Just the same-a big barrel-chested Viking with a high voice and swinish ways.”

  “What do you do, Tix?” Kemal asked. “Is Uncle Gordon grooming you for the kingship?”

  “Not so’s you’d notice,” Tix said cheerfully. “I’m really not interested in it.” His eyes sparkled, and he looked like a different person. “I mean, this satellite is an art treasure. Grandfather Bahlam collected treasures from all over. What he couldn’t get, he had made for him by the best artists and finest craftsmen of his time. This place is probably man’s supreme architectural achievement in orbit. And is anyone taking care of it? I can assure you not. So I’ve taken it upon myself to fix up a few of the areas that Grandfather never got around to. The main battle station, for example. I think that a gothic look would be perfect for it. What do you think, Kemal? Tall, thin windows draped in black, the main operating boards raised on a dais, indirect lighting combined with hot spots-"

  “I think it sounds great,” Kemal interrupted, “but is that what Gordon wants you to do?”

  “Father lets me do what I please. Says I’d be useless at ruling, anyhow like I said, he wants to see you, Kemal. In fact, he’s waiting now”

  Tix led Kemal down gleaming corridors. There were portraits hung at intervals, and Tix pointed to each in turn and rattled off what it was, where it came from, and how much it was worth.‘

  “Here we are,’ ’Tix said as they came to a large, carved wooden door “Father is in there I’ll drop off your, satchel, then meet you for dinner. Maybe later we can compare calendars for our mutual audience. And I’ll show you some of my sketches for the new West Wing, too.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Kemal said, and knocked at the door

  Chapter 7

  The audience room was remarkable for the sense of great length and depth it imparted by artfully placed mirrors and holographic projections. Kemal could have sworn that the tall white curtains were stirring to a summer breeze rather than a concealed wind machine. Looking out through the windows, he seemed to be viewing a broad green lawn with white marble sculptures of heroic men and beasts scattered over it, leading past a pagoda, down to a little stream, then beyond it, to low hills lying against one another in picturesque folds. All holographic projection, of course, which allowed the eye, frustrated and fretted by the continually close surroundings of Mercury Prime, to give itself some relief in visual fantasies of distance and Chiaroscuro.

  “Welcome home, Nephew,” Gordon Gavilan almost sang. Larger than his third brother, Garrick, the present Sun King had the distinctive bronze skin and hazel eyes, but was broader and heavier, and had a deep furrow between his brows. Near him was his wife, Celia, a slender, pretty, vague-looking woman with light brown hair and fluttery hands.

  “We’ve prepared a little feast in your honor,” Gordon said jovially. “Just the immediate family. Where’s Dalton?”

  “He said he’d be right along,” Celia reminded him. “He’s just finishing inspecting the guard.”

  “The boy takes his duties too seriously,” Gordon said, his grin slipping just a little. “Good manners are worth something, too.”

  Another ornate door, at the other side of the room, flew open and slammed loudly against the wall. Dalton had arrived.

  He looked as Tix had described. But Tix hadn’t mentioned the curving black moustache that clung to Dalton’s upper lip like an unkempt leech. It gave Dalton a sinister look, which he evidently prized. Nor had Tix mentioned Dalton’s walk, a kind of strut in which his black boots pounded heavily on the polished hardwood floor.

  Dalton came in and; went to take his seat at Gordon’s right hand.

  “For today,” Gordon said, “I think we will give Kemal the seat at the right.” Dalton glared at his

  father, then quickly controlled himself and made a sketchy bow.

  “Welcome to Mercury, Cousin, ” he said to Kemal

  Tix came in, bowed to his father, and took his seat , as well. Gordon made a signal, and the servants began bringing in platters of food.

  Kemal had never seen such a repast-academy food was academy food, from one end of the solar system to the other. The Gavilan table, was strewn with Martian goose stuffed with lunar nut dressing, Jupiteran caviar , and manta-ray soup, Venusian hydroponic vegetables and fruits, including blue kiwis and purple starfruit, and tankards of dry Martian wine.

  There were polite questions as to how Kemal was doing on Mars. Then, between the soup and the meat, Gordon went right to the point.

  “Wondering why I brought you back so suddenly?” Gordon finally said, eyeing Kemal directly.

  Kemal nodded slowly, “Kemal, we’ve just gone through several years of problems with the city of Kallag. Do you know how things work here?”

  Kemal said, “I know that Mercury has belonged to the Gavilans ever since my grandfather, Bahlam, consolidated our rule.”

  “It’s not quite ours,” Gordon said. “In internal matters, things are decided by a council. Each of the arcologies has votes based upon the size of its constituency. On matters of planet-wide importance, majority vote carries the decision. The Sun King directs all foreign policy and trade and is the arbitrator for disagreements between the arcologies. He maintains a space fleet, which controls smuggling, with financial assistance from the principalities. Good little fleet. Dalton heads up that section, eh, Dalton?”

  “I do my best,” Dalton said, finishing the last of the vegetables and washing them down with wine. “I have spoken before about the need to modernize the fleet?"

  “And I have told you before, to what end? We are not engaged in a war. Nor does one seem imminent. The fleet is a first-rate fighting force already. You have told me so yourself.”

  “It could be better,” Dalton grumbled, stabbing a starfruit.

  Gordon shrugged and went on. “The principalities pay a tax for maintaining the fleet, customs service, and the merchandisers’ cooperative. The Mercury coopera
tive markets all of the planet’s products, getting the best prices in the open marketplace.”

  “Not that our enemies believe that,” Dalton said. “They accuse Father of making sweetheart deals, getting money back under the table in kickbacks, and negotiating bad agreements.”

  “It’s a ridiculous accusation, of course,” Gordon said. “But there are elements on Mercury that would overthrow Gavilan rule. Theoretically, that’s possible. If all the principalities on the council voted against us, we could be ousted. But in actual practice, the Miners usually vote with us, and the Musicians almost always do. The Track Cities are frequently intransigent, but they are tied to us, since, by law, we control the storage, marketing, and movement of all goods from the surface of the planet.

  “The Warrens are in a slightly different position. They are in the cooperative voluntarily and can with-draw if they so choose. Their charters permit them to develop their own markets, and they exempt a certain proportion of their goods to sell outside the cooperative. Some of them, especially Kallag, are demanding free trade, as though that were a cure for all their ills. They have forgotten how it was in the early days of our civilization; when every arcology sold its own goods, and the big traders from Mars were able to play one against the other to drive down the prices.” “We’ve had a long history of difficulty with Kallag?

  Dalton said. “I’ve told you, I can take care of them.”

  “We want to avoid open warfare,” Gordon said. “To that end, we have recently concluded a treaty with Kallag. It ends our differences. And I want you to sign it, Kemal, on behalf of myself and Mercury Prime.”