Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  Lando shook his head sadly. "Safe, but stagnant. It won't work, Wendy. You can't go back. Someone will introduce new bacteria that can kill yours, or develop machines that can tolerate your microorganisms, or Sol knows what. The truth is that there's no place to hide."

  There was silence for a moment as they stared into each other's eyes, both certain that they were right, and both unwilling to back down.

  Hooks chose that particular moment to step in from a connecting compartment. "Seen enough? If so, it's time to do some work. The system's ready to go but there's a lot of paperwork left to do."

  Lando and Wendy nodded in unison. Both were glad of the interruption.

  The next two hours were dedicated to a series of complex financial arrangements. Lando was more spectator than participant, but found the transaction interesting nonetheless. It seemed that Wendy's uncle had negotiated the agreement some two years before. The proposal had been simple but rather daring.

  The Church planned to use their half of Angel as collateral and then borrow enough money to pay for the necessary ecosystem.

  At first Techno had refused, arguing that the settlers planned to destroy the very minerals that made Angel valuable in the first place. They wondered how something without value could be used to secure a loan.

  Wendy's uncle had responded by pointing out that Angel's halo contained more than enough mineral wealth to repay the loan, and would remain unaffected by the new ecosystem. By mortgaging half the planet the colonists were mortgaging half the halo as well.

  After some quick research by their attorneys, Techno's management team had agreed and a deal had been done. Despite completion of the heavy-duty negotiations, there were still tons of documents to sign.

  It was a good two hours before Lando and Wendy were able to leave Techno's business offices and make their way back to the ship.

  Like most of the visiting vessels, The Tinker's Damn was moored on Level 5. After the pair had checked themselves through customs, they jumped aboard one of the many trams, and rode it halfway around the habitat's circumference to Robo-lock 64.

  The Tink could be seen about a hundred feet out, held in place by the snakelike umbilical and some reciprocal tractor beams.

  Lando palmed the access panel, waited for Wendy to enter, and followed her inside the lock.

  It took them about ten minutes to cycle through both locks and make their way into the ship.

  Once aboard, Lando wasted little time requesting permission to break contact and pick up their cargo. The sooner he got the ecosystem to Angel, the better it would be.

  The moment Techno Control released the habitat's tractor beams Lando did likewise. The Tinker's Damn drifted free.

  Things got a bit tricky after that. Lando steered The Tink around to the other side of the habitat, waited while a tubby little freighter blasted into space, and eased his way into the cavernous landing bay.

  White light flooded the area, threw hard shadows down across durasteel decks, and shimmered over heavily armored hulls.

  A large green delta appeared on the deck in front of him. Beads of sweat formed on the smuggler's forehead as he followed the green delta back towards the rear of the bay, maneuvered his way between dozens of ships, and did his best to ignore the robo-tugs, scooters, and maintenance sleds that zipped over and around his ship.

  Finally he was there, sliding through a matrix of alignment beams, dropping into Loading Bay C-22.

  The ecosystem had been packed into six specially designed cargo modules. They were metal and lined with plastic. Each one had its own power source, its own computer, and a special life-support system. They were triple sealed and covered with warnings.

  Lando had little to do but wait while the modules were loaded into The Tink's depressurized hold and strapped down.

  Some spindly looking robots did most of the work, with occasional help from a pressure suited human.

  Then, when the cargo was securely in place, and the hold had been secured, the green delta reappeared. Techno Control provided an "all clear" and Lando lifted.

  It took ten minutes to follow the green delta out through the constantly changing mosaic of ships. It felt like twenty.

  Then they were through, with nothing but stars up ahead. Lando stayed at the controls long enough to put Techno behind them, entered a course for the nearest NAV beacon, and handed control to the ship's NAVCOMP.

  He looked around. Wendy had disappeared. Lando shrugged, got up from the controls, and headed for the lounge. What waited there took him completely by surprise. Wendy was there all right, but so was the man who'd been following them. His blaster was aimed at Wendy's head.

  12

  Haas smiled. "Come in. Have a seat." The blaster described an arc next to Wendy's head.

  Lando did as he was told. He moved slowly, trying to close the distance without seeming to do so. The vinyl seat made a squeaking sound as he sat down. He put his hands on top of the table. The mini-launcher in his sleeve was aimed toward the man, but would kill Wendy too.

  Sweat glistened on the man's forehead. He wiped it with a sleeve. "I hope you won't do anything stupid, Pik. I'd hate to mess up the upholstery."

  Lando looked at Wendy. Her mouth was a hard straight line. "He was hiding in my cabin," she said.

  Haas smiled. "You've got some fancy security aboard this tub… but not fancy enough."

  Lando forced himself to remain calm. This man was dangerous as hell. It showed in his eyes and the sweat that had already reappeared on his forehead. One wrong word, one wrong move, and he'd put a hole through Wendy's head. There was little doubt that Lando would die a fraction of a second later.

  Haas nodded as if reading Lando's thoughts and endorsing them. "Good. Now, using your left hand, reach over and remove that nasty-looking slug gun from its holster."

  Lando did as he was told. He held the handgun between thumb and forefinger.

  "Excellent. Let's check to make sure the safety's on. It is? Good. Now, put the weapon down and slide it towards me."

  Lando obeyed. The slug gun made a scraping sound as it slid across the table. Haas intercepted the weapon and picked it up. Light glinted off the barrel. He nodded approvingly.

  "Nice choice. Reactive grips, high-capacity magazine, moderate recoil." Haas stuck the gun into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  "My name's Haas. I work for Mega-Metals. They're sending a ship to pick you up. Nice comset by the way. A little too nice for a ship that's falling apart."

  Lando forced a smile. "Glad you approve. How much are they paying you? I'll double it."

  Haas chuckled. "I like your style. Right to the point. I think I'll pass, though. Dead people don't need money. Which brings us back to you. What kind of cargo did you load?"

  Lando ignored the corpo's question. "You plan to kill us, don't you?"

  The shake of Haas's head said "no" but his eyes said "yes."

  Wendy saw it too. She felt an almost overwhelming sense of anger and frustration. Where was God? Why didn't She intervene? Would the strongest always rule?

  Something hit the ship. A cacophony of alarms went off. Haas swayed, the blaster drifted to one side, and Wendy grabbed it. The corpo tried to jerk the weapon away but Wendy hung on. This was wrong, violence is always wrong, she told herself, but she'd acted automatically. Something hot sizzled past her ear. The energy beam hit the bulkhead and she felt little bits of red-hot metal sting the back of her neck.

  Then Lando was there, pulling Haas away, fighting for the blaster. The corpo's hand hit the durasteel bulkhead. The weapon spun away. It hit a cushion and bounced. Wendy grabbed and missed. The blaster clattered to the deck. She dived after it.

  Haas was strong, and mean as hell. Lando found himself on the defensive, as fists, elbows, and knees slammed into his still sore body. Not only that, but his larger frame was a real disadvantage. There wasn't much room down on the deck, and Lando made the bigger target.

  The corpo was on top. He wrapped wiry fingers a
round the smuggler's neck. Lando made a gurgling sound as Haas choked him. The smuggler tried for the other man's groin and failed to connect. His vision started to blur.

  Wendy was crouched only inches away. She wanted to stand but the tabletop blocked her way. The blaster felt warm and slick in her hand. She aimed it at the back of the corpo's head.

  What should she do? To pull the trigger would be to violate everything she believed in… yet the alternative was completely unacceptable. Lando was losing, and so were her people. Mega-Metals would capture the ecosystem, destroy it, and drive her people off-planet.

  Wendy swallowed, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger. A thin beam of blue energy burned its way through the corpo's brain and scorched the bulkhead beyond. Haas collapsed on top of Lando. The odor of singed hair filled the air.

  It took Lando a moment to suck in some oxygen and clear his head. He pushed Haas up and away. The body fell over sideways. The corpo's eyes were rolled upwards as if trying to see the exit wound at the center of his forehead.

  Lando looked at Wendy, saw the blaster, and knew what she'd done. Her eyes were shut tight, as if that would delay the unpleasant reality of what lay before her.

  Lando wanted to thank her, to tell her that it was okay, but the steady bleat of alarms pulled him towards the control room. Something had hit the ship and hit her hard. What was it?

  He made his way forward and dropped into the command chair. The buzzers and Klaxons died away as his hands moved over the board. The NAVCOMP sensed Lando's presence and activated its voice synthesizer.

  "A Jupiter-Class in-system freighter hailed this ship twelve minutes and forty-three seconds ago. Would you like a playback?"

  "No," Lando replied. "Continue with your report."

  "Affirmative," the NAVCOMP answered. "Shortly after the attempt to communicate, a pair of Force Nine tractor beams were locked onto the hull."

  That explained the impact. Someone had nudged them with a tractor beam. It was easy to do. All it took was one little mistake, one little uncontrolled twitch of the joy stick, and whammo. A Force Nine tractor beam could knock a ship like The Tink into the next solar system. Lando almost wished that it had.

  The NAVCOMP continued: "I made two attempts to break free of the tractor beams. Both failed. The freighter continues to pull us in. Estimated time of arrival: three minutes and fourteen seconds from now."

  Lando looked at the main viewscreen. The other ship was visible now, black on black, blotting out a section of stars. He could see the white rectangle of the ship's huge landing bay. It grew larger with each passing second.

  This was the time to call for help. The emperor lived on Terra. There should be navy ships all over the place. "Send the following message. 'All standard freqs. Ithro-registered ship Tinker's Damn under attack by unknown forces. Request assistance.' Add our present position."

  The NAVCOMP replied three seconds later. "I am unable to comply with your last order. The freighter is jamming all standard freqs."

  Wendy looked at Lando as she dropped into the co-pilot's position. She still felt the horror of what she'd done, but was determined to make the death count for something. "I've been listening. What now?"

  Lando leaned backwards and tried to look casual. "We wait."

  Wendy looked at the viewscreen and then back to Lando. She forced a smile. "Don't tell me; let me guess. Your father has a saying for this situation."

  "Why, yes, he does," Lando replied thoughtfully. "My father would say, 'Son, people who eat spicy food deserve indigestion.'"

  Wendy frowned. "I don't get it."

  Lando up at the viewscreen. The freighter was huge. Large enough to swallow a hundred Tinks with space left over. The smuggler smiled grimly. "You will. You will."

  Captain Orlow was a middle-aged woman with a utilitarian haircut and a stocky frame. She stood in the middle of the control room, with her arms folded and feet spread wide apart. Orlow had a ship to run, cargo to move, and no time for this sort of nonsense. The expression on her plain, bulldog face was anything but happy.

  She turned to the tall, thin man on her right. He was vice-president of morale, or something equally stupid, and was hitching a ride back from the roids. Sol only knew why,

  but he outranked her, and had insisted on responding to the company's "all ships" message.

  "Listen, Tawson, I don't have time for this kind of crap. How the hell can we stay on schedule if we diddle around with this kind of stuff?"

  Tawson didn't even look her way. His hard blue eyes were locked on the main viewscreen. The Tinker's Damn was larger now.

  "Captain Orlow, I would remind you that the corporation cares more about 'this kind of stuff,' as you call it, than whether your load of ore reaches the refinery on time."

  Tawson gestured towards the com screen. "You saw the holo. These people are criminals. They deactivated a Mega-Metals security team on Weller's World, and tried to neutralize the manager on a planet called Angel. It should've ended there, but some idiot allowed them to escape. What would you have us do? Ignore their crimes? Let them go?"

  Orlow wanted to say "yes," but shook her head instead.

  "Besides," Tawson said smugly, "if all goes well, you and your crew will receive a bonus."

  Money didn't mean much to Orlow. She loved the process of running her ship. Had it been up to her, Orlow would've said, "To hell with the bonus, let's stay on schedule."

  But Tawson was an exec, the kind that gets ahead more on politics than profit, and wouldn't understand. And neither would Orlow's crew. They liked money, and the ones near enough to hear were grinning with anticipation, eager to grab an easy bonus.

  The captain sighed. She had very little choice but to see it through. She issued a stream of orders.

  Lando's hands were damp. He wiped them on his thighs. The freighter was close now, so close that its huge landing bay filled the main screen and flooded the control room with light.

  He saw acres of scarred deck, worn traffic decals, and a double row of beat-up shuttles. They were short, stubby ships, equipped with in-system drives, and used for bringing ore out of the asteroids. Each vessel had a large white number painted along its flank.

  Wendy licked dry lips and looked at Lando. What would he do? The edges of the hatch slid by and she felt something heavy land in the pit of her stomach. They had arrived in the monster's belly.

  Lando fired the ship's repellors as The Tink came under the influence of the larger vessel's powerful argrav generators.

  There was movement over to the right, and Wendy saw some space-armored figures spill out of a lock and take up positions along the right side of the bay.

  Lando lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Either the vessel's captain had stripped the crew or called out the shuttle pilots. The second possibility seemed most likely.

  A voice came over the comset. "This is Dulo Tawson, Executive Vice President Employee Utilization, Sector One. Put Lester Haas on-screen."

  Lando looked at Wendy, and she shrugged. Lando replied voice only. "Haas here. Sorry about the video, sir. Most of the gear aboard this ship is little more than junk."

  There was silence for a moment as Tawson thought that over. Given the circumstances, there wasn't much he could do but go along with it. "I understand. You're in control?"

  Lando smiled. "Yes, sir. No problems here."

  "Good. We're releasing the tractor beams. Follow the yellow robo-guide and land as indicated."

  "Yes, sir."

  Lando felt The Tink jerk slightly as the tractor beams were released. This was the moment that he'd been waiting for. He ignored the hovering robo-guide, activated the ship's weapons systems, and started to turn.

  Tawson sounded angry. "Haas? What the hell are you doing? Turn that…" Lando killed the comset.

  Blue light flared as the freighter's crew opened fire with blast rifles. The energy beams didn't even register on The Tink's force field.

  The smuggler spun the ship on its axis. The hatch was s
traight ahead. Safety beacons strobed bright red as the massive black- and yellow-striped doors started to close. The bastards were trying to trap him inside the bay!

  Lando thumbed a protective cover out of the way and touched a button. The Tink shuddered as a pair of missiles raced for the doors.

  "Hang on!"

  The words and the explosions came together. Wendy was pressed back into her seat as Lando applied full emergency power and blasted towards the hatch. She closed her eyes and waited for the impact. It never came.

  She opened her eyes. Man-made lightning probed the darkness around them as it tried to find and destroy their ship.

  Lando smiled and started to speak. Something hit The Tink and sent her spinning out of control. Most likely a missile, since energy beams don't pack any mass.

  Alarms began to hoot, bleat, and wail. The NAVCOMP spoke in its usual measured sentences:

  "This ship has sustained major damage. I repeat, this ship has sustained major damage. The hyperdrive is inoperable, the in-system drive is seventy-percent effective, the life-support system is ninety-one percent and falling…"

  Lando decided to ignore the rest and concentrate on controlling the ship. Some of the ship's main steering jets had been destroyed and others damaged. Gradually, bit by bit, the smuggler found ways to balance the ones that still worked against those that were damaged but still operable.

  Control was reestablished seventy-four seconds later. Lando activated the tac tank and took a look. The freighter was still there, a blinking red blob, and made no attempt to follow. Lando knew that might change, and change fast, once they realized that The Tink was something more than a drifting hulk.

  Lando scanned both the systems readouts and the tac tank, looking for options. There weren't any. He couldn't jump to another system as long as the hyperdrive remained belly-up, and he couldn't outrun them with a damaged in-system drive. And, just to keep things interesting, the life-support systems were heading south as well. They'd be wearing space armor in another fifteen or twenty minutes. He had to hide, but where?