Beltrunner

by O’Brien, Sean

  “We’re in the groove, Skipper. I’ve increased braking thrust by eleven percent, and the two other vessels are powering engines to match velocities by the time we reach them. We should have our guests on board in an hour and a half, give or take a few minutes.”

  Collier nodded and regarded the cabin. “Probably should straighten up a bit.” He began policing the various bits of rubbish that had floated aft with the deceleration thrust. As he tidied the cabin, he strapped on his sidearm and patted it, thankful he had already tested it on Ganymede.

  The banter with Sancho had done much to keep his emotions and memories at bay, but now they came surging back.

  He hadn’t ever killed before, and even now, the act seemed to have been committed by someone else. He could see the body of the Ganymedian guard falling limply to the ground, and he could see Tacat’s body erupting in rapidly freezing fountains of crimson, but both seemed to be images from a high-budget holo, not results of his own actions.

  Only Su’s death had seemed real. He was thankful he had not turned her over and seen what would have been a ruined face. His last memory of her face was of her half-smiling at some attempted witticism of his. It was a good memory, and it comforted him.

  He resumed his cleanup, mildly surprised at the amount of dust and grime that had collected on various surfaces of the ship. He kept up a lighthearted dialogue with Sancho about the computer’s slovenly ways, partly to keep his mind from falling too deeply into Su’s memory, partly to keep himself from over-thinking the encounter ahead. He had in his mind what he wanted to do, but he wanted to leave some of the meeting to chance. The scenario would almost certainly not unfold in any way he could predict, so improvisation would have to carry the day. Still, he took certain precautions. He donned his vacc suit (silently thanking his reputation as an eccentric who was never without it: the suit would not, he hoped, raise too much suspicion) and kept a supply of easily gathered material near his control seat. If he needed a quick fill of the tube, he would have the mass nearby. He checked the cheat sheet and memorized two patterns, hoping he would not need them.

  “Coming alongside,” Sancho said. “Authority Tender Clara Barton is at zero relative velocity, distance three hundred nine meters off our starboard/dorsal bow. Ad Astra Mining Ship CE-119 somewhat farther away and still maneuvering.”

  “Okay. Hail the Authority ship. Ask if they need anything else.”

  “Roger that.” There was a pause, after which Sancho added, “They want us to open the airlock when Agent Fletcher gets here.”

  Collier chuckled once. Cute.

  Ten minutes later, Sancho informed him that Fletcher had made the vacuum crossing and was approaching the airlock. Collier had a momentary impulse to make her knock, and saw in his mind the image of Su shaking her head and suppressing a grin at the joke. He smiled at her memory, glad he could do so, and instructed Sancho to open the lock. Fletcher entered the cabin once the lock had cycled and began removing her Authority-issued vacc suit.

  She was neither a slim woman nor a husky one — her body type was difficult to pin down, but there were the remains of a fine woman about her. More than anything else, her body could be described as a bureaucratic shape, if that was possible.

  Once she had removed her helmet, Collier helped her remove the suit. “Welcome aboard, Agent Fletcher.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said, wriggling her arm free of its sleeve and pushing the suit down her legs. Collier noted the sidearm strapped to her right thigh.

  “I’d offer you something, but I am very low on organics. I’m down to my own hair. I don’t suppose you brought anything?” Collier eyed her tool belt.

  “Nothing but the standard issue belt, I’m afraid.”

  “And the needler?” Collier jerked his chin at her weapon.

  “Standard issue, as I said, Captain. Unlike your cowboy cannon,” she said, gesturing to his own weapon.

  “Gives me a sense of mass,” Collier joked. “Captain Rahford should be on board soon. Once he gets here, we can start.”

  Fletcher nodded and scanned the ship. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, giving her a sleepy quality, but they darted around the cabin expertly assessing what they took in.

  “What do you think of Dulcinea?” Collier asked.

  “Amazing you’ve managed to keep her together for so long without upgrades and overhauls.” She turned back to him. “You do your own maintenance, I take it?”

  Collier shrugged. “Mostly. I’ve had to, really. No metal for major stuff.”

  “And it’s just you on board?”

  “Well … yeah.”

  Fletcher heard the hesitation and squinted slightly. “No? Our records indicate you as sole master, no passengers. No charters.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I meant my computer.”

  Fletcher nodded, a slight smile curling her lips. “I see.” She did not inquire further.

  Minutes later, Sancho piped up again. “Ad Astra vessel alongside ventral/port bow at nine hundred eighty-eight meters. Relative velocity zero. Figure emerging from airlock.” His voice was clipped and artificial — a computer’s voice mimicking a human’s, and doing it badly.

  Collier stifled a smile. Sancho was obviously keeping his Caliban identity secret. “Thank you, Sancho. Open outer lock when he’s within ten meters.”

  “Copy that.”

  Fletcher did not seem to notice the exchange. She had spotted the white cylinder near the control chair and was studying it from where she floated. Collier let her — soon enough, she would know as much about it as he did. Almost as much.

  Rahford entered the ship rather imperiously ten minutes later. He removed his helmet from his sleek, cutting-edge vacc suit, midnight blue with pseudo-military piping. His suit looked far more battle-ready than Fletcher’s. Rahford made no effort to remove his outer garment — he only allowed his helmet casing to telescope into the neck recess of the suit.

  “Okay, South, we’re here. Now what’s the big secret you had to show us on this … ship?”

  “Did you bring the Tank 8 stuff?” Collier asked.

  Rahford scowled. “You were serious about that? No, I didn’t bring any booze. I also didn’t bring a picnic basket or a unicorn. Now can we get on with this?” he said too loudly, his right hand resting unnaturally on his thigh pocket.

  Collier tried not to stare at the bulge in the pocket, looking at it only indirectly. Holdout pistol.

  “You’re impatient. But I guess you’re here to see the magic trick, so let me get to it.” He produced the wand again. “This is it. In very simple terms, it’s a transmuter.”

  Rahford snorted and looked away with overacted indifference. Fletcher did not react at all.

  Collier said to Rahford, “Maybe that’s too complicated for you corpses. What I mean is that it can change anything into any element. You want to see?”

  Rahford made an elaborate show of preparing to exit the ship. “Fletcher, if you want to stay, be my guest. I’m going back to my ship. There’s a puppet show on C Deck that will be more enlightening than this shit.”

  Fletcher said, not taking her eyes off the wand, “Go ahead, Rahford. No one’s stopping you. Captain South, can you operate the device and show me?”

  Collier watched Rahford pretend to gasp in exasperation. The corporate captain’s eyes betrayed him: they were glued to the wand.

  “Sure thing, Agent Fletcher. I’ll even let you choose what element we produce. Let me put some fuel into the wand,” he opened the wand, eliciting a widening of the eyes from Fletcher and a change in posture from Rahford, and put in a quantity of the rubbish he had collected hours ago. He didn’t want the small miracle of the wand’s opening to deflect him from the main attraction, but he nevertheless grinned slightly at the pair’s reaction.

  “Now, Agent Fletcher. Name your element. If you please, pick one that isn
’t toxic or radioactive. Just a harmless element.”

  “Gold,” Fletcher said quietly.

  “Gold it is,” Collier said, closing the wand. He checked his cheat sheet and began to manipulate the controls on the wand.

  “What’s that?” Rahford snapped, pointing at the card.

  “That’s my index. The manipulations are different depending on the element desired, and I haven’t memorized them all yet. There. Finished. Agent Fletcher, if you would care to extend your hand, I’ll give you the gold.” He opened the wand again and shook out the small quantity of gold into her outstretched palm.

  Rahford’s gaze went from the gold to the wand. “How do we know that’s real gold?”

  “Short of conducting metallurgical tests, I suppose you don’t. I could have produced iron pyrite or something. I’ll let Agent Fletcher keep the sample and test it herself at her leisure,” Collier said. “But I can do it again. Maybe you’d like to name the element, Rahford?”

  “Make some vanadium,” Rahford said.

  Collier glanced at his chart. “Vanadium, eh? Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “Alert. Vanadium exposure is toxic to unprotected humans.” Sancho’s stiff voice broke in.

  Collier looked at Rahford. “Guess we’d better not. Pick another one?”

  Rahford squinted. “Osmium.”

  Collier nodded. “Expensive and rare. But I don’t need my computer to tell me what will happen if I make it inside the cabin. It’ll turn into osmium tetroxide and we don’t want that. If you want that kind of demonstration, we’ll have to step outside and do it in vacuum.” He shrugged. “You’re oh-for-two, Captain. I would have thought a man who works for a mining corporation would know his metals better. Can’t you think of a nice, safe element?”

  Rahford bristled at the barb while Fletcher continued to turn the gold over in her hands. The corporate captain spat out one more attempt. “Fine. Molybdenum.”

  Collier nodded. “That’s more like it.” He scooped up more trash and once again manipulated the controls. “Hold out your hand, Rahford.” He poured the silvery metal into the captain’s gauntleted hand.

  Rahford thumbed the metal and looked at it thoughtfully. Fletcher floated over to him as well and examined the output.

  “What do you think? You need more demonstration?” Collier asked.

  Rahford laughed and tossed the metal fragments back at Collier, who swatted them away. “To find out the secret compartment in your little magic wand there? No, thanks.”

  Fletcher looked at Collier. She seemed to be undecided on the authenticity of the wand. Collier laughed. “You think I have storage compartments in this thing, holding bits of gold and molybdenum on the off chance that I’d be asked to produce both of them?”

  “You clearly manipulated the experiment so we’d select only certain items,” Rahford said. “You knew Fletcher would want gold, so you had that ready. I threw you off by picking other elements, ones you weren’t ready for, so you had to keep rejecting my choices until we got to the one you were ready for.”

  Collier looked at Fletcher, but her face was unreadable. “How would I know you would pick gold?”

  Fletcher shrugged and continued to examine the lustrous metal.

  Rahford held out his hand. “If you let me look at the device more closely, maybe I’d begin to believe your story.”

  Collier stepped back instinctively. “No chance. You don’t get to touch this.”

  Rahford appealed to Fletcher. “There you have it, Agent Fletcher. It’s a hoax.”

  “Pretty damn good one, if it is,” Fletcher said quietly. “How did you come about this ‘magic wand,’ as you call it?”

  Collier told the story of the artifact’s discovery and his own conclusions regarding its alien origin. As he did so, Rahford made a show of skepticism and several times interrupted to show his disdain, but nevertheless stayed to listen to the tale.

  “Your visit to the ‘golden goose’ asteroid was logged, I take it?” Fletcher asked when he had finished.

  “Yep.”

  “Good. The Authority can begin survey operations if I decide it’s warranted, then.”

  Collier frowned. “I made the discovery four months ago. The rogue asteroid was on a transverse course. By now, it’s long gone.”

  Fletcher nibbled at a thumbnail. “Hmm. I’m sure it is, but if your discovery pans out as true, it will be worth the expense of a deep space survey mission. What else can this wand do?”

  Collier’s eyes widened. “What else? Isn’t that enough?”

  Rahford growled, “Hiding scrap metal and pouring it out on command? Yeah, real big discovery, South.”

  Collier had a fleeting thought that he would be better served to let Rahford continue in his misunderstanding. The corporation might then leave him alone. But the need to prove himself was overpowering. “Look, you moron,” Collier said, closing the tube and following the sheet instructions, “how about some chlorine?” He opened the tube and shook it violently. A pale green gas cloud emerged, dissipating and vanishing slowly in the cabin air. Collier, Fletcher, and Rahford immediately started coughing, and Rahford activated his helmet with a touch on his neck control. Fletcher shut her eyes and pressed them with her palms as she continued to cough.

  “Warning. Chlorine contamination in cabin. Atmosphere replacement in process. Recommend supplementary air supply for all passengers,” Sancho said, and the cabin was suddenly a whirlwind as the ship’s blowers went to maximum filtration.

  Two minutes later, Fletcher and Collier stopped coughing and furiously blinking and Sancho announced the all clear. “Chlorine concentration below 1 part per million. Filtration continuing.”

  “I’m not sure that was necessary, Captain,” Fletcher said, still wiping at her eyes.

  Collier signaled to Rahford, and the corporate captain unsealed his helmet again. “What the fuck?” he screamed when his face was exposed again. He turned to Fletcher. “Agent Fletcher, I demand immediate legal action against this man! He tried to poison me!”

  “Relax, Captain,” Fletcher said tiredly. “There are bigger issues here. Or are you still unconvinced about the wand?”

  Rahford’s rage died down slowly. “I’m not going to commit myself to anything yet,” he said.

  Fletcher laughed once. “Fine. But I think there is enough here to merit an investigation. Captain South, you’ve convinced me to at least look into this. Would you be willing to turn the wand over to the Authority for scientific testing?”

  Collier smiled. “Agent Fletcher, I trust the Authority about as far as I could jump on Jupiter. The wand stays with me.”

  “This is bigger than you, South,” Rahford said, moving closer to him. “It’s a matter of system-wide interest.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in this?” Fletcher said over her shoulder.

  “Well, I mean, if it turns out to be something,” Rahford added.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Collier said. “I’m not prepared to give it up to anyone. For any price,” he said, staring at Rahford.

  Rahford smirked back. Collier thought he caught a glint of respect in the man’s eye before his manufactured umbrage returned.

  “I see. If that’s the case, then why did you call us, why did you want us to see this?” Fletcher asked.

  Collier took a breath. This was what he had been waiting for. Although he had left a lot to improvisation, he had known that sooner or later one of them was going to ask him what he wanted.

  “First of all, I want to register it as a trade secret with the Authority. That—”

  “Individuals can’t hold trade secrets,” Rahford interrupted. “Check the Belt Charter,” he said, then smiled.

  “You’re right, Captain. Agent Fletcher,” Collier said, turning to the woman, “I wish to incorporate. I will file the necessary paperwor
k with Ceres, but I want you to witness my intent to do so.”

  Rahford laughed cruelly. “This is preposterous. Are you completely ignorant of the Belt Charter? You can’t form a corporation just by saying so. There are procedures and protocols, including a review by the Belt Chamber of Commerce.” He smirked. “You really think your request will get a hearing anytime soon?”

  Collier looked to Fletcher, who shrugged. “He’s right again. They can’t block you outright, but they control the agenda. They can continue to postpone a hearing on your incorporation claims indefinitely. It’s certainly not ethical,” she said, glancing at Rahford, “but it is legal.”

  Collier said, slowly, “So while I wait for the Chamber of Commerce to decide if I can have the same rights as a corporation, I can’t claim the wand as a trade secret, is that it?”

  Fletcher nodded.

  Collier said, “Can’t you see how twisted and wrong that is? Not only does the Ad Astra Corporation have as many rights as a living, breathing person, it in fact has more rights. What’s to stop them from taking the wand by force, then just weathering the legal repercussions of their actions? If they decide that the wand is worth a little legal trouble, then how do I stop them?”

  A quick tearing sound from Rahford caused Collier and Fletcher to look at him. He had drawn his sidearm from its Velcro pouch and was aiming it unflinchingly at Collier. “That’s exactly what we are thinking, South. At least you seem to understand corporate culture.”

  Fletcher started to move, but the gun barrel swung to cover her. “No, I don’t think so, Agent Fletcher,” Rahford said coldly. “You’re going to, very carefully, detach your needler from your thigh and toss it over to me. Then, you’re going to dress for the outside and return to your ship. File whatever report you want, because the corp will take care of me. I’ll even give myself up peacefully once I have the wand safely delivered to my corporate chief. But for now, your part is over.”

  Fletcher stared at him and muttered, “This is a mistake, Rahford. You’re going to be in a heap of trouble for this,” she unstrapped her needler, flung it to him.