Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  Lando eased the truck out of its slot, waved at Rudy, and slid out onto the street. The hover truck steered like a tank. Lando's turn was too wide, but traffic was light, and no harm was done. He was afraid to take even one hand off the controls.

  "See if the mapper works."

  There was a screen set into the center of the dash. Wendy touched the power button, and much to her surprise, a menu appeared. She touched "path, most direct," and entered the address Troon had provided.

  The menu disappeared and a map took its place. The truck was a bright red delta, their destination a glowing green circle, and the jagged blue line the most direct path between the two.

  Lando looked, nodded his understanding, and followed the mapper's instructions.

  Wendy watched as retail businesses disappeared and processing plants and warehouses took their place. Long, low affairs most of them, busy freeze-drying food, manufacturing pharmaceuticals, or storing them prior to shipment.

  And then the landscape changed again. The buildings became taller and uglier. They sprouted tanks, cylinders, and pipes. Wendy saw piles of ore, rivers of molten metal, and power pallets piled high with shiny ingots.

  Then the buildings shrank as a variety of retail establishments reemerged and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their larger two- and three-story cousins.

  Lando pulled over to the curb. He cut the power and felt the truck sink onto its skirts. The turbine sighed as if exhausted by its labors.

  "There's the building." Lando nodded towards a long, low warehouse on the far side of the intersection.

  Wendy consulted the mapper. It agreed. "Okay, so what are we doing?"

  Lando leaned back in his seat. "We're watching."

  Wendy looked at the warehouse, then back to him. She was puzzled. "Watching for what?"

  Lando shrugged. "For unusual activity, signs of an ambush. Who knows?"

  Wendy considered the smuggler's comments. They might make sense if the cargo in question were something a little more exciting than a load of fertilizer. Mega-Metals might care, but they didn't know about it, so why the big deal?

  No, the whole thing was a waste of time, and Wendy was tempted to tell Lando so. And she would've too, except for the fact that it would heighten the tension between the two of them and last leg of the journey even less pleasant. Wendy reconciled herself to a wait. What would it be? A half hour? She could handle that.

  Time passed. One hour turned into two. Wendy wished that she'd brought something to read. Lando had insisted on her wearing body armor, and it felt uncomfortable under her clothes. Lando drummed his fingers on the side of his seat. It started to rain. The raindrops made little paths through the dirt on the windshield. Wendy imagined that she was in her father's house on Angel, staring out of her bedroom window.

  The sound of Lando's voice jerked her back to the present.

  "What did you say?"

  Lando eyed her curiously. "The fertilizer. Once we get the stuff to Angel, then what? How will you get it dirtside?"

  Wendy felt a sense of alarm. "What do you mean? That's your job!"

  Lando lifted an eyebrow. "Oh really? I don't remember agreeing to that."

  "Of course you did! You said…"

  "I said I'd put the cargo 'in orbit,'" Lando finished for her. "It's your responsibility to get it dirtside."

  "My responsibility? You're the smuggler!"

  "True," Lando agreed calmly. "And a smart one. I would never agree to land a cargo without doing some research first. It's damned hard to put a ship down without someone noticing. What you need is a plan. A scam that'll get the fertilizer dirtside with no one the wiser."

  Wendy crossed her arms and fumed. What was this? An attempt to hold her up for more money? Damn the man!

  Lando sat up. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. I saw a greasy spoon a few blocks back. What would you like?"

  Wendy ignored him.

  Lando smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they'll have something with vegetables in it. Keep an eye on the warehouse."

  Lando opened the door, slid towards the ground, and disappeared.

  The rain was coming down harder now, drumming on the metal roof and running in rivulets down the windshield. Blast him! Wendy opened her door and jumped to ground. Mud splashed onto her pants, and rain slapped her across the face.

  She looked around, pulled up her collar, and started across the intersection. Lando was a jerk, so why humor him? She'd go inside, find the fertilizer, and force Lando to load it on the truck. After that she would… No… one thing at a time.

  Her boots made a slapping sound as they hit the rain-shiny pavement. The building curved down on both sides like a cylinder buried in the ground. It had two doors. One was large enough to admit a good-sized truck, while the other was smaller, and would accommodate about 80 percent of known sentient races. The door opened to Wendy's touch. It felt good to step in out of the rain.

  She found herself in an utterly unremarkable alcove. There was a door, durasteel this time, and a standard security console. The ceiling, walls, and floor were bare.

  She fumbled around inside her jacket, found the piece of paper, and took it out. Troon's printing was neat and even. Using the console provided for that purpose, Wendy typed in her name, and a sixteen-digit authorization code.

  There was a pause followed by a computer-generated voice. "You may enter. Your property is located in grid twenty-four.

  Any attempt to remove property other than yours will result in a call to the police."

  The durasteel door whirred open and Wendy stepped through. It was dim inside the warehouse and completely silent. A row of chem strips had been mounted high above and provided what little light there was. For one brief moment Wendy wished Lando was with her, but pushed the thought away. There was no one in the warehouse. There was nothing to fear.

  She walked down the aisle that divided the warehouse in half. Mysterious piles of Lord-knew-what bulked to the right and left of her. Dark unlit passageways cut between the piles and disappeared towards distant walls. Something squeaked and skittered down an aisle. A rat or the local equivalent.

  Wendy gritted her teeth and forced herself forward. Now she saw that slightly luminescent yellow-green lines had been used to divide the entire floor into boxes and that each section had a number. The one to her right glowed "3." Twenty-four would be a lot further back. Wendy's footsteps echoed off duracrete walls as she walked towards the back.

  "Hold it right there!" The words and the hard white light came together. Wendy turned and saw two men. One was young, muscle-bound, and a little too pretty. The other was middle-aged and getting fat. Both were armed.

  Something whirred and Wendy turned again. She couldn't see much more than a rectangle at first—a descending platform—but then it came level with her, and Wendy saw the woman. An older woman, with an electro-implant, and a nasty smile.

  Wait a minute… No, it couldn't be… but yes, it definitely was! The woman who had asked her to say something for Wilf! She was a spy, an agent for Mega-Metals, and Wendy had led her to the concentrate. No, the woman was already here, so…

  The platform made a dull clanging sound as it hit the duracrete floor. The woman with one eye stepped off. "Well, well, well. Look at what we have here. One of The Chosen." The woman drew a slug gun. "Where's your friend?"

  Wendy swallowed. Her throat felt dry. Stall. Stall and pray for some sort of miracle. "He's at our hotel. How did you find this place anyway?"

  The woman smiled and waved her weapon back and forth like a conductor's baton. "A rather tiresome cyborg told us. Not directly, you understand—no, not with a bullet through his head—but later, through the records in his office."

  Troon! Troon was dead… murdered by this woman! Wendy was still thinking about that when the hover truck crashed through the cargo door and screeched to a halt.

  Wendy heard a loud bang, felt something hard punch her in the chest, and fell over backwards. Cold duracrete hi
t the back of her head. She felt dizzy. It was hard to breathe. Why? Was she dying? No, the slug had smacked into the body armor, and knocked the wind out of her lungs. She rolled to the left.

  She heard Lando's shout, the roar of his slug gun, and the grunt of expelled air. The older woman hit the floor only four feet away, light winking off her implant, the other eye empty of life. There was a dark spot at the center of her chest, and a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Wendy felt dizzy. Somebody should do something about that. A doctor… Wait a minute, she was a doctor… The world went black.

  5

  Wendy floated up through layers of soft grayness, not running from the darkness, but following the path of least resistance. She felt warmth touch her cheek, tasted the sweet scent of flowers, and heard the whisper of leaves playing in the breeze.

  Her eyelids fluttered as she willed herself to see. Where was she? Could this be death? Was she in heaven?

  Now she realized she was in a bed, a wonderful bed with crisp cotton sheets, and a quilt so light that she could barely feel its weight.

  It rustled slightly as a breeze touched her face. Wendy smiled and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Her chest felt sore and she had a headache.

  "And where are you going?"

  The apparition was so sudden, so completely unexpected, that she shook her head in disbelief. Lando! What was he doing here? Had he been killed as well? No, if this was heaven, then he'd be somewhere else.

  The smuggler smiled gently. "Sleeping Beauty awakes. Here, try some of this."

  Wendy accepted the mug and took a tentative sip. It was full of hot creamy soup. It tasted good. She found she was hungry and swallowed the soup in greedy little gulps.

  As Wendy ate, Lando sat on the edge of the bed and watched. Now Wendy remembered. The decision to enter the warehouse without him, the one-eyed woman, and the horrible fight. A fight that Lando had won.

  She finished the soup and handed the empty mug to Lando. Suddenly tired, she fell back against the pillow. She smiled. "Hello, Pik."

  Lando smiled back. "Hello, Wendy."

  "I've got a feeling that I owe you a great deal." There was a bandage on the back of her head. She didn't remember her head hitting the floor but knew that it must have. She touched her chest. "Thanks for the armor."

  Lando shrugged. "We were lucky."

  Wendy shook her head. "No, you were lucky. I was stupid. Stupid to ignore your advice, stupid to go in there alone, and stupid to be taken by surprise. How many people did my stupidity kill?"

  Lando shook his head slightly. "None. They died because they tried to kill us. The decision was theirs, not ours."

  Wendy frowned. "You make it sound so reasonable. But they might be alive if I'd followed your orders. That's the trouble with evil. It sounds good."

  Lando reached out to take her hand. His fingers were strong yet gentle. "How about a truce? You believe your way, and I'll believe mine. What's done is done, and there's no going back."

  Wendy thought about that for a moment and nodded her head. Lando was right, this time, anyway.

  "Well, if that's settled, I'd like to brush my teeth and see to some other needs as well."

  Lando nodded understandingly. "The bathroom is nearby. I'll give you a hand."

  Wendy took a peek under the sheet and felt blood rush to her cheeks. "Thanks, but I'd like to put some clothes on first."

  Lando smiled. "Why? I've seen all there is to see. You're very pretty."

  Wendy blushed and changed the subject. "Which brings us to an interesting question. Why a hotel rather than a hospital? And who's paying for all this?"

  Lando disappeared for a moment and reappeared holding a long white terry cloth robe. It had the hotel's logo emblazoned on the breast pocket. He turned his back while Wendy put it on.

  "We're staying in a hotel because it would be very difficult for me to protect you in the local hospital. As for the bill, well, consider yourself my guest."

  Moving cautiously, Wendy once again swung her legs over the side of the bed. "You really think it's necessary? Protecting me, that is? You can turn around now."

  Lando took Wendy's arm as her feet found the floor and she winced slightly. "Yeah, I think it's necessary. If stopping you was worth one team, then it's worth another. It will take some time for the news to make its way to Terra, and some more time for Mega-Metals to react, but they will."

  Wendy supposed that he was right. She shuffled through a nicely furnished sitting area and into the bathroom.

  "What about the local police?"

  "We're free to leave whenever we want. The warehouse security cameras captured the whole thing. It was a clear-cut case of self-defense."

  "No," Wendy said. "That's good news… but it's not what I meant. Wouldn't the police protect me?"

  "Not really," Lando replied evenly. "They can't spare someone to guard you just on the chance that you'll be attacked."

  Wendy stopped at the door. "Did you tell them about Mega-Metals and the fertilizer?"

  "No. I told them the whole thing seemed like robbery pure and simple. And the stuff that woman said about killing Troon bore me out."

  Lando laughed. "The hard part was convincing the police that your fertilizer was worth stealing. But the price listed on your invoice did a lot to convince them."

  Wendy nodded. She'd forgotten about Troon. Another death, and even more proof that Lando was right. The company would stop at nothing.

  Wendy closed the bathroom door and leaned on the sink. Troon was dead but she was alive. Not just alive, but happy to be alive. Was that right or wrong? The face in the mirror provided no clue.

  Lando was an old hand at driving the hover truck by now. The fertilizer was stored in The Tink's hold, so free of any load, the truck made pretty good time.

  They passed mile after mile of orderly fields. There were a variety of crops, but some low, leafy bushes seemed to be especially popular, and took up thousands of acres.

  Wendy saw neat-looking farmhouses, hard-working robo-tillers, and the occasional agrobot. The newer ones stood about thirty feet tall, could perform a wide range of tasks,

  and crossed the fields with twenty-foot strides. They had a delicate mincing gait that ate a lot of ground without damaging the crops.

  Wendy glanced at Lando. His attention was on the road. What was the smuggler up to, anyway? The ship was ready to lift, and outside of some residual soreness, so was she. And, given the fact that Mega-Metals would be extremely unhappy with them, there was every reason to leave.

  She studied him more closely and wondered what he was thinking. The smuggler was a lot more complicated than he seemed. Mercenary yet altruistic. Violent yet gentle. And this trip to the country… What was it about?

  As if in answer to her question, Lando pulled over to the side of the road and killed the turbine. The truck settled to the ground with an audible groan.

  Wendy looked around. Lando had chosen a spot where other vehicles could pass. There were fields on one side and a dip on the other. It led upwards to a small hill and a copse of gently swaying trees.

  Lando smiled. "The view from the top of that hill should be rather nice. Just right for a picnic."

  "A picnic?"

  "That's right," Lando said as he opened his door. "Some therapy for the invalid."

  Wendy laughed. "I'll show you an invalid. Let's see who reaches the top of that hill first!"

  Lando slid to the ground, grabbed the hotel's picnic hamper from the back of the truck, and scrambled down the side of the road.

  Wendy had raced ahead and was already starting up the hill.

  Lando put on a burst of speed, slipped, and fell. The fall cost him the race, but he did manage to hold on to the picnic basket.

  Wendy scampered the rest of the way up the hill and stood victorious on the top. Her chest hurt a little. She waited for Lando to plod his way up the slope.

  "Slowpoke."

  "Cheat."

  Both of them laughed. They
looked around. The view was marvelous. Starting at the base of the hill, row after row of bluish green crops marched off to the horizon and disappeared. Some fluffy white clouds dotted the sky, gently pushed by a cooling breeze, all so much alike that they seemed like products of a vast machine.

  Wendy breathed the beauty in and let it fill her soul. "Thank you."

  Lando smiled. "For what?"

  "For everything. For crashing through that door on the chance that I was in trouble, for nursing me back to health, and for bringing me here. Now I'll have good memories to balance out the bad."

  Lando looked into her eyes and found himself drawn to the softness there. The hamper fell from his grasp to the ground. Their lips touched. The kiss was tentative at first, but the awkwardness soon passed.

  Hands touched, bodies met, and hearts beat a little faster. It was Wendy who pulled Lando down towards the grass.

  Lying there beside Wendy, his hand cupping a well-shaped breast, Lando brushed her lips with his. "Are you sure?"

  Wendy smiled, one of her hands slipping down the front of the smuggler's body. "Yes, I'm sure."

  Lando grinned. "It's not against your religion?"

  Wendy laughed. "Of course not. Just shut up and take advantage of me. Watch my chest though… it's still a little sore."

  Lando opened Wendy's shirt one closure at a time. "Guess what? Your chest looks fine."

  Wendy raised an eyebrow. The Tinker's Damn was in hyper-space and had been for hours. They were seated in the ship's miniscule lounge. "Wait a minute. I thought you said it was my problem."

  Lando grinned over his coffee cup. "I changed my mind."

  Wendy did her best to look stern. "Oh? And why was that?"

  "Because if I get the concentrate past the company's ships,

  and down to Angel's surface, I'll be able to spend more time with you."

  Wendy laughed. "Nicely put! Realizing of course that your idea of spending time with me involves more than friendly conversation. So what's the plan? Remembering that violence is out."

  "Well," Lando answered lightly, "while you were lying around the hotel room sleeping, I did some research. It seems that Mega-Metals runs a highly automated shipping operation. Rather than pay the higher costs associated with crewed ships the company runs a fleet of automated cargo carriers."