Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  Haas felt a chill run down his spine. Was that possible? Did Mega-Metals have someone watching him? And if so, what had they reported about his occasional drunks?

  Haas looked around, suddenly paranoid, wondering if he was under surveillance. But the lounge was huge and there was no way to tell.

  Then Haas saw a face, followed by another face, and heard mental alarm bells start to ring. A match! Finally! Something to break the monotony.

  He was up and moving. The couple were just ahead talking to each other and consulting one of the schematics given out to arriving passengers. The map would show their destination, the services available en route, and the shortest way to get there.

  Haas wished they'd throw the schematic away so he could retrieve and use it. That had happened once. He'd been after a man. No, a woman. In any case an informant had sold him a map neatly annotated by the fugitive herself and left in some bar.

  But this pair showed no signs of doing anything quite that stupid. No, he'd have to follow them, and that meant leaving the vicinity of the checkpoint. What if someone else came along? Haas smiled wryly. Another spy could handle that.

  The man and the woman stopped next to a slowly creeping robo-vendor, bought something to drink, and looked around. But Haas was so plain, so ordinary, that their eyes swept right past him.

  The corpo noticed the tiny cut on Lando's forehead, the puffy look around his eyes, and the greenish-blue cast to his skin. A beating? And if so, did it have anything to do with the company?

  Haas called for Lando's memprint and it appeared inside his head. This particular memprint was quite different from the usual beat-up holo pix and semiaccurate description.

  The first thing Haas saw was a shot of a very attractive woman taking her clothes off. The same woman who stood in front of him. She dropped her top and looked into the camera with empty eyes. The corpo heard the name "Wendy Wendeen" inside his head and knew it was she.

  Then a man moved into the shot. Not her present companion, but someone else, seen from behind. Haas wondered why. No camera to shoot the other angle? A VIP of some sort? He'd never know.

  The man moved in, placed his hands on the woman's breasts, and said something that had been omitted from Haas's memprint.

  Then all hell broke loose as the man called Pik Lando appeared at the edge of the frame, mouthed silent words, and fired a slug gun.

  That was the end of the artificially implanted memory, except for orders to follow either one or both of the subjects, and report to Mega-Metals HQ open-budget priority-one.

  Haas blinked. Open-budget priority-one! What the hell had this pair done? Used the executive washroom without permission? Greased the entire board of directors?

  Wendeen and Lando finished their drinks, threw their cups into the nearest trash chute, and consulted their schematic.

  Haas licked his lips in anticipation. He smelled a big fat bonus somewhere down the line. The couple moved and he followed. They went to their right, paused, and turned left.

  Lando took Wendy's arm. "Don't look now, but we're being followed."

  Wendy resisted the impulse to turn her head.

  "How can you tell?"

  Lando's eyes were up ahead. "Because when we change direction, he does too. Not only that, but he's closing in."

  "A corpo?"

  "Maybe," Lando answered uncertainly. "But why here? We could be anywhere. No, chances are that he's a snatch, looking to steal whatever he can, or a con man hoping to slip us the pitch. Let's get rid of him. Stay by my side."

  There was a whole bank of see-through lift tubes up ahead. The doors hissed open and closed as hundreds of people came and went. It was a mixed crowd, tech types mostly, but well-sprinkled with military uniforms and business suits.

  Lando approached the tubes, realized that they'd arrived seconds too early, and paused as if unsure of which tube to take.

  He looked at the schematic, smiled stupidly, and moved towards the nearest tube. Wendy stayed right by his side. Lando timed their movement so they were the last ones aboard an already crowded lift. The door slid closed behind them.

  A tech type swore and gave Lando a dirty look. The smuggler smiled vacantly and the platform moved upwards.

  The floor was transparent like everything else. Lando looked down between his feet and saw their tail hurry towards the nearest up-tube. Stubborn little bastard.

  Wendy nudged Lando's arm. "Aren't we supposed to be going down instead of up?"

  The smuggler nodded as the platform coasted to a stop. "Yup, we'll get off here."

  The door hissed open and the crowd pushed them out. Lando looked around, saw some passengers spill out of a down-tube, and headed that way. They were aboard a few seconds later.

  There was another tube only inches away, and as their platform started to fall, the other flashed upwards. Lando caught a brief glimpse of their tail then he was gone. Good. The smuggler allowed himself to relax.

  The platform stopped twice before a computer-generated voice said "Level Two," and they got off.

  Microcircuitry embedded in the schematic's plastic weave responded to tiny transmitters concealed in the habitat's bulkheads. The Techno branch of Lando's bank glowed green, and an unending series of full-color ads slid across the bottom of the page.

  "Turn right at the next intersection," the current advertisement suggested. "The firm of Hurley & Hurley can meet all of your investment needs."

  Lando and Wendy turned left instead, and followed a plush red carpet into a nicely appointed lobby.

  There were the usual robo-tellers, cash machines, and computerized transaction booths. The walls were covered with electronic wallpaper, with the words "Planetary Bank of New Britain" programmed into the constantly shifting patterns. Various kinds of information appeared as well, including stock quotes, bond prices, and other business briefs.

  Lando looked around, spotted a solitary human being towards the back of the room, and headed in that direction. The bank manager was pretty in a carefully calculated sort of way. She was up and around the glass-topped desk in the wink of an eye. She held out a hand with blood-red nails.

  "Hello! My name's Carol. Welcome to the Bank of New Britain. How can I help you?"

  Lando smiled. "I have an account with your bank and some gold to sell."

  Carol frowned. "I'd like to help… but we don't deal in jewelry and such. A pawn shop perhaps…"

  Lando shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I'm talking about a single nugget that weighs sixty-nine pounds."

  Carol gulped. "Sixty-nine pounds? Yes, of course. Please take a seat."

  Most of the larger banks maintained high-security storage facilities in Techno's main landing bay. Knowing that, Lando had stopped off long enough to unload the nugget and receive a notarized receipt.

  That should have shortened the sales process. But by the time the bank's assayer had examined the gold for purity, and both parties had agreed on a price, more than two hours had passed.

  With the deal finally completed, Lando stood, shook hands with Carol, and left the bank considerably richer than when he'd arrived. Gold prices had taken a dip due to a major find out along the rim, but he'd done well just the same.

  From there it was a short trip up to Level 3. Their new destination was a place identified as "Production Lab 43." Lando found the listing on the index, touched it with his finger, and saw a green glow appear on the map.

  Lando and Wendy got off the lift tube, took a hard right turn, and proceeded down a gleaming hall. This area had a completely different feel from the financial section.

  They saw laboratory equipment, smelled a variety of strange odors, and brushed elbows with people dressed in disposable lab smocks. This was just one of the many levels dedicated to scientific research. Techno's one and only product.

  They took another turn. The hustle and bustle gave way to a long hallway. It was empty except for a lone maintenance bot. Brushes whirred as it polished the floor.

  La
ndo watched the doors. "45, 44" and there it was, "PL 43." It was the last door in corridor, and was mounted in what should be Techno's outer hull.

  Wendy touched the glowing green access panel and they heard a whirring sound as a tiny security camera turned slightly and zoomed in.

  "Yeah?" The voice was male and far from friendly.

  Wendy addressed herself to the camera. "This is Dr. Wendy Wendeen. I was told to provide you with the following identification code: PESP-TS-9816."

  There was thirty seconds of silence followed by a loud click. The door hissed as it slid open. The voice sounded friendly now. "Customers are always welcome. Come on in. Be sure to follow the instructions. This area has been quarantined."

  Wendy entered first and Lando followed. The hatch slid closed behind them, a lock clicked, and they found themselves in a small room with shiny white walls. The room was suffused with light that came from no discernible source. Another door blocked their way. A large sign covered most of its surface:

  YOU ARE ENTERING A BIOLOGICAL QUARANTINE AREA. VISITORS MUST STRIP AND SHOWER.

  A computer-synthesized voice issued instructions: "Please remove all your clothing and place it in an empty wall locker. No tools or weapons will be allowed inside the quarantine area. Violators will be ejected from the habitat."

  Lando smiled. "Well, you heard the computer… take off your clothes."

  Wendy made a face and looked around. There were no cameras in sight. Lando removed his top. She did likewise.

  Once both of them were nude and had placed their clothes in otherwise empty wall lockers, the shower came on.

  The water was warm and smelled strongly of chemicals. It came from everywhere at once, powerful jets of slightly green liquid, squirting from tiny nozzles hidden within the ceiling and walls.

  The water that fell to the floor disappeared quickly, sucked up through slots located along the bottoms of the walls, to be recycled and used again.

  The shower stopped and a blast of warm air blew them dry. The voice returned.

  "Please open the wall lockers labeled Q-SUITS, select a garment in your size, and put it on."

  Lando touched an appropriate panel, waited for it to slide out of the way, and saw three stacks of clothing. Each suit was stored in a clear plastic bag. The smuggler pulled one out, saw the label SMALL, and tossed it to Wendy.

  Then it was a simple matter to find a package marked LARGE, open the plastic bag, and step into the suit. The one-piece white garment included booties and a hood, and made a raspy sound when Lando moved. The suit had been chemically treated and smelled of disinfectant.

  Lando smiled. "Do I look as silly as you do?"

  Wendy laughed. "Worse. You look like a large white rodent."

  The door slid open and they stepped through. The next room was extremely small and provided access to a standard lock.

  A man waited to greet them. He was prematurely bald, athletically handsome, and dressed in a disposable jumpsuit. He had brown skin, bright intelligent eyes, and a big grin.

  "Sorry about the suits… but we're still doing some last-minute tests. My name is Hooks, Dr. Robert Hooks, but friends call me Bob."

  The scientist held out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Wendeen. Your uncle speaks very highly of you."

  Wendy smiled. Uncle Syd had negotiated the contract with Techno. "Thanks, it's a pleasure to meet you. Friends call me Wendy."

  "Wendy it is," Hooks replied, and turned to Lando. "And you are?"

  Lando took the other man's hand. Hooks had one helluva strong grip for a microbiologist. "Pik Lando. I'm Wendy's chauffeur."

  Hooks smiled. "Glad to meet you, Pik. Be careful how you handle Wendy's cargo. It would love to eat your ship!"

  The scientist gestured towards the nearest bulkhead. "That's why we take all these precautions. Your custom-designed bugs could turn Techno into a pile of orbiting bug poop if they ever got loose."

  Wendy knew that wasn't entirely true, but laughed just the same. The truth was that many elements of the ecosystem would die without support from laboratory equipment or the planet that they'd been designed to live on.

  Still, microorganisms that liked to eat metal could cause a lot of problems, and the scientists were wise to protect themselves.

  "So the ecosystem is ready for shipment?"

  Hooks nodded. "More or less. I wish we could do some fine-tuning, but I understand that time is of the essence, so we'll ship the system as is."

  Wendy nodded soberly. "We need to disperse it soon. Otherwise Mega-Metals will…"

  Hooks held up a hand in protest. "We value all of our clients, including Mega-Metals. We never take sides."

  "Which means that your knowledge goes to the highest bidder," Lando observed cynically.

  Hooks grinned. "Has it ever been otherwise? And would it be better if all of our scientists were owned body and soul by governments and large corporations?"

  "I don't know," Lando answered honestly.

  "And neither do I," Hooks replied. "Come on… let's take a look at the lab."

  Lester Haas was bathed in sweat by the time the com call ended. The actual conversation had been rather brief. But each word took eleven minutes to travel from Techno to one of Terra's many comsats, make its way to the planet's surface, and come out of a comset on the seventy-third floor of Mega-Metals HQ.

  And, given the fact that the return message took an equally long time to reach Techno, the whole affair had occupied something approaching four hours. Faster than a message torp, but still frustratingly slow.

  Haas wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It came away wet. Every second that he continued to sit here cost Mega-Metals another ten Imperials. But the corpo needed time. Time to compose himself, time to prepare.

  His orders were simple. Find out what Wendeen and Lando were doing, then kill them. The first part was fine. Haas had already agreed to that. But what about the second? What about cold-blooded murder? Could he do it?

  Bounty hunting was okay. When you greased someone they deserved it and you could sleep at night.

  But was this any different? Hadn't he seen the Lando guy shoot someone? And what would happen if he refused? Mega-Metals pulled some heavy G's.

  Haas wiped his forehead once more, opened the door, and stepped out of the booth. His enclosure was one of four. There were ten or fifteen people waiting to use each com booth. A man brushed past and slammed the door. The corpo didn't notice.

  Haas looked down at the information written on the palm of his hand. The Tinker's Damn. That shouldn't be hard to find. He headed towards the lift tubes.

  Production Lab 43 consisted of a single large cylinder. It was connected to the larger habitat by a fifty-foot umbilical. The tube-like umbilical had a lock at each end, was made out of pleated duraplast, and could be mechanically severed.

  A reasonable precaution when dealing with custom-designed microorganisms. In the case of a really bad accident, or a plague, the scientists would cut the umbilical and drift free of Techno.

  That was the plan at least, but Lando wondered if the tech types would actually do it. Actually sacrifice themselves for the greater good. He wasn't sure that he would.

  All of the environmental conditions matched those on Angel. The argrav was set for 0.95, the atmosphere contained the same mixture of gases, and the temperature followed a pattern typical of the temperate zones.

  That was mostly by way of a backup however, in case one of the carefully sealed experimental compartments was accidentally exposed to the lab's atmosphere.

  The lab had been in use for more than three standard years. It looked lived in, but was well equipped, and very clean. Most of the staff were human, but Lando saw two Finthians, and something he wasn't quite sure of. A lizardlike sentient that relied on a complex breathing device.

  The smuggler was fascinated as Hooks led them from one section of the lab to another, introducing his colleagues along the way, and pointing out the results of various experiments.

&n
bsp; "Now," the scientist said as he led them into a well-lit compartment, "my pride and joy. Dr. Bob's magnificent metal munchers."

  Transparent cubes lined the bulkheads. Each one contained a computer-controlled chunk of Angel-normal environment. Lando approached the nearest container and looked inside. All he saw was dirt, rocks, and some scrubby plants. He looked at Hooks.

  "I don't get it. What am I supposed to see?"

  The scientist smiled smugly. "Look again."

  Lando looked. Something caught his eye. He bent over. There it was, the last remnants of some copper tubing, now reduced to little more than reddish dust.

  Lando moved to the next box. What had been a sheet of aluminum now looked like a piece of Swiss cheese. And so on, until he'd seen half a dozen commonly used metals reduced to waste.

  It was amazing. Lando pictured what would happen when the microorganisms were turned loose. Gradually, bit by tiny bit, the bacteria would destroy almost every machine on the planet. Only those made from a rather expensive kind of durasteel would survive.

  Yes, they'd have hand tools and plows, but little more. No ground vehicles outside of those drawn by imported animals, no aircraft inside the atmosphere, and no computers besides the ones sealed inside atmosphere-controlled labs.

  And then, after the bacteria were finished eating the machines, they would go to work on the planet itself, consuming the very minerals Mega-Metals had worked so hard to mine.

  Wendy stood next to him, examining the damage done to a piece of lead. "Will it be worth it?" he asked her.

  She turned to face him. Her eyes were determined. "Yes, if it brings us freedom and peace."

  Lando thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "If you say so. But it's kind of like my father used to say: 'When a man shoots someone, it's silly to hang his gun.'"

  Wendy's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Life, real life, is a bit more complicated than one of your father's clever sayings. We're tired of running. Tired of being victims. A life without technology, or a great deal less of it at any rate, looks pretty attractive to us. Once the new ecosystem is in place Mega-Metals will be forced to leave. We'll be safe."