Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  The cab made a tight turn around the end of the barricade and the headlights swept over a pile of space-suited bodies. There were four, maybe five of them, and their armor was twisted as if it had been subjected to intense heat. Someone had stacked the bodies there like so much cordwood. An act of grief? A warning?

  There was no way to tell.

  The headlights danced across graffiti-covered walls, lit up a series of empty doorways, and speared something black.

  The twin energy weapons burped blue light, a section of wall turned cherry red, and the black thing disappeared.

  Wendy was surprised by the loudness of her own voice. "What was that?"

  "No big deal," the anonymous driver replied. "That's just a metal scav, or an oxy vamp making his evening rounds."

  "Oh good," Lando said dryly. "I feel better now."

  The rest of their journey passed without incident up until the moment they approached Lucky Lou's hotel. The high-rise was, for reasons of security, located on a small hill. Lucky Lou's people had made it even more impregnable by clearing a free-fire zone all the way around it and installing a variety of automatic weapons emplacements. A series of interlocking floodlights bathed the area in a blue-white glare.

  A long, curving driveway led up to the hotel, and when they passed the large LUCKY LOU'S sign, Lando thought he could make out the vague outline of the words "Hilton Hotel" in the background.

  Wendy saw two space-suited figures up ahead, and wondered why they stood with legs spread, and arms straight out. Then the cab came closer and she saw that both sets of armor had been welded to a pair of X-shaped durasteel beams.

  "They showed up about a week ago," the cab driver volunteered cheerfully. "Used to work at the hotel. Tried to sabotage the security systems and let some friends in. Ole Lou caught 'em, welded their suits to those beams, and left 'em there to enjoy the view."

  As the taxi rolled by, Wendy caught a glimpse of bulging eyes, blue skin, and features locked in agony. Suffocation is not a pleasant way to go. She gave a little gasp of horror and looked away. Was there no end to the violence? The cruelty? The death? Wendy wanted to cry but refused to do so.

  The cab dropped them in front of a large, heavily secured lock. Lando paid the driver with cash taken from an external suit pocket, identified himself to one of four heavily armed guards, and waited while they ran a security check.

  The check must have cleared, because they were waved inside. The lock was large, spotlessly clean, and well decorated with high definition 3-D ads that promoted various aspects of Lucky Lou's considerable empire.

  A green light came on and an extremely solicitous man in a black uniform appeared. He ushered them into a luxurious lobby, helped them off with their pressure suits, hung both suits on a cart designed for that purpose, and took their bags. The man didn't ask for their weapons, nor did Lando offer to hand them over.

  A sea of blood-red carpet stretched off in all directions, interrupted here and there by islands of leather-covered furniture, and lapped against a massive slab of Martian basalt. The basalt had been fashioned into a long, curved reception counter. It was black like the rest of the lobby's fittings and reflected some of the light that came from the crystal chandelier high overhead.

  A pretty blond woman appeared behind the counter. She had biosculpted features that bore a strong resemblance to one of the empire's holo stars, surgically augmented breasts, and teeth so white that they gleamed.

  "Good evening, Citizen Lando, Citizen Wendeen, and welcome to Lucky Lou's. Will that be one room or two?"

  Lando looked at Wendy. The words that came out of her mouth were a surprise to both of them.

  "Two rooms, please."

  Wendy saw the hurt in Lando's eyes, and felt some of it deep inside herself, but couldn't say anything with the receptionist standing right there.

  What could she have said, anyway? That the smell of singed hair had helped her to decide? That Lando's world was too violent for her to live in? And that he was too violent to live in hers? Not the one that existed now… but the one that she hoped to help build?

  The receptionist's voice pulled Wendy back. "If you'll place your thumb here… our security system will record your print… and that will serve as your key. You have rooms fourteen-oh-four and fourteen-oh-five. Maurice will take your things up."

  Wendy placed her thumb on the electro-pad, waited for Lando to do likewise, and followed him to the lift tubes. Both were silent during the ride up.

  The doors hissed open open and Lando stepped out into the hall, looked both ways, and turned to the left. Wendy followed. The hallway was long, plushly carpeted, and outside of a small maintenance bot, completely empty. Where were the other guests? And how could a nearly empty hotel make money? The prices must be astronomical.

  Wendy felt suddenly guilty. Guilty about the money that Lando had spent, guilty about the way she'd rejected him, and guilty about feeling guilty.

  They passed the maintenance bot and Lando stopped outside an open door. Maurice had somehow managed to get there before them and was unloading the smuggler's pressure suit.

  Lando turned. "Well, here we are."

  Wendy looked up into his eyes. They were cautious now, wary of what she might say. Damn, damn, damn. The physical attraction was there. If only…

  "Pik, I'm sorry."

  Lando forced a smile. "It's okay… I understand."

  Wendy searched his eyes, trying to make sure that he really did. Standing on tiptoes she kissed him on the cheek. "Good night."

  "Good night."

  Fifteen minutes later Wendy crawled between clean crisp sheets, realized that she was very, very tired, and fell instantly asleep.

  14

  Lando awoke with the knowledge that something was very, very wrong. He sat up in bed. The room sensed the motion and brought the lights to dim. He looked around. Nothing. He was all alone.

  But the feeling remained. Something was wrong.

  "When you feel an itch, then scratch it." That's what Lando's father always said, and it seemed like good advice.

  The smuggler swung his legs over the side of the bed, felt his feet sink into the plush carpet, and headed for the large floor-to-ceiling window.

  The curtains whirred aside and daylight flooded the room. An interior heat source kept the double-paned window free of frost.

  Lando looked, and looked again. Thanks to the hotel's height, and the fact that it was located on top of a hill, the smuggler had a good view to the west.

  First came Lucky Lou's free-fire zone, followed by two miles of tumbledown domes, and the spaceport beyond. And there, parked in a row, were three ships. There was something familiar about those ships, but Lando wasn't sure what it was.

  The smuggler went over to his armor, opened an external pocket, and removed a pair of binoculars. The glasses had large, oversized controls to accommodate clumsy space-suited fingers.

  He returned to the window and brought the binoculars to his eyes. The ruins jumped forward. He saw the remains of a curtain whipped sideways in the breeze, a set of grid coordinates that had been etched into the side of a building, and some scorch marks where something had exploded. The city seemed a little less ominous during the day, but still had a brooding air, as if thinking about the fate that had somehow befallen it.

  The ruins blurred as Lando tipped the binoculars upwards. He found the spaceport, stopped, and pressed auto-focus. The ships appeared as if by magic, short stubby things, with large white numbers stenciled along their flanks. Shuttles with large white numbers…

  Then it hit him. Mega-Metals! The shuttles looked exactly like the ones he'd seen parked inside the freighter's bay! They'd followed him!

  He made his way to the comset. His fingers stabbed the buttons. Wendy sounded sleepy. "Hello?"

  "Get up. There are three Mega-Metals shuttles waiting for us at the spaceport. We need to move, and move fast."

  Now Wendy was wide-awake. "Shuttles? Like the ones on the freighter?"<
br />
  "Exactly. Be ready in ten minutes. I'll meet you in the hall."

  Lando hung up and the comset chirped softly. He hit a button. "Yeah?"

  "Citizen Lando?" The voice was male but rather soft.

  "Yes?"

  "My name is Lou. Some people call me Lucky Lou. I'd like a moment of your time."

  "And I'd like to oblige," Lando replied evenly, "but I'm in something of a hurry at the moment. Maybe later."

  "No," the voice whispered, "I'm not asking you to come, I'm telling you to come. Meet my people in the hall." Lando heard a click as Lucky Lou broke the connection.

  Damn. Why now? And what did the old geezer want anyway? Well, there was no helping it. Given the fact that Lucky Lou had a small army at his command, Lando was left with very little choice.

  Wendy was already in the hallway by the time Lando stepped out his door. She wore her space armor. The blast rifle hung over one shoulder and the pack over the other. She looked rather small standing between four of the largest people Lando had ever seen. There were three men and a woman, all clad in pressure suits, all armed to the teeth.

  It was the woman who spoke first. She had a helmet tucked under one arm, a poorly healed blaster burn down the right side of her face, and a pair of stainless steel canines.

  "Well?"

  Coming from her, the single word spoke volumes. It said, "Well, if you're stupid enough to make some kind of trouble, then go ahead and make it because we're ready to pound you senseless."

  Lando forced a smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

  The woman nodded curtly and headed down the hall. Lando and Wendy followed, with the men bringing up the rear.

  The doors to the down-tube were open and the lift was waiting. The woman waited until everyone had stepped inside, tapped some numbers into the keypad, and crossed her arms. The lift dropped like a rock.

  Lando watched the amber-colored numbers dwindle from 14 to 1 and keep on going. The display read "6-B" by the time the lift coasted to a stop. Lucky Lou lived six levels underground. Deep enough to survive a direct hit from anything short of a nuclear weapon. The doors slid open.

  "Out."

  There was little point in doing anything else, so they obeyed. The woman led the way once again. This carpet was even deeper than the one in the lobby, and the walls were covered with the most beautiful electro-murals that Lando had ever seen, animated planetscapes that looked absolutely real.

  Then they passed through double doors and entered a darkened room. One entire wall had been given over to a computerized diagram. Part of it was blocked by a tall, rectangular structure but the rest was clear to see.

  There were hundreds of boxes, each with a name inside, countless intersecting lines, marginal notes, numerical readouts, and multicolored status lights. It was a business plan, an organizational chart, and a status display all in one.

  There was a whirring sound as the rectangular structure started to rotate. A spotlight came on as the box completed its turn. What Lando saw took him completely by surprise.

  The long rectangular box looked very much like an open coffin, except this corpse was alive, and kept that way by the latest in life-support technology.

  Lucky Lou was tall, at least seven feet, and very, very skinny. His hair was white, but his skin was black, and wrinkled like that of a raisin. He wore a full set of formal evening clothes, and if it hadn't been for the multicolored wires and tubes that ran in and out of his body, he would have been quite presentable.

  Intelligent brown eyes swiveled towards Wendy and Lando. His voice was gentle. "Good morning. Excuse me if I don't get up."

  Wendy wasn't sure how to respond, but Lando laughed, and Lucky Lou smiled approvingly.

  His gaze was directed at Lando. "You don't remember me, do you?"

  "No, I've heard of you… and visited Mars Prime once or twice before… but I don't think that we've met."

  "That's where you're wrong," the older man replied levelly. "Your father introduced us more than twenty years ago. I was still up and around back then. You were four or five years old and a real pain in the ass. And still are for that matter. Mega-Metals wants the two of you real bad. They offered me two hundred and fifty-thou to hand you over."

  "And?" Lando's voice was cool, cooler than he felt.

  "And I told 'em to shove it," the man in the box replied. "Lucky Lou never takes sides. It's bad for business. They waste you, your father comes after me, I waste him…. Like I said, it's bad for business."

  "So?"

  "So I want you out of here… preferably in one piece. I checked, and your ship is nearly ready."

  Wendy remembered the cab ride from the spaceport to the hotel. "And how will we reach the spaceport?"

  Lucky Lou's eyes turned her way. A leg twitched. "That's an excellent question. Mega-Metals has six people on the ground, vacuum jockeys mostly, but they look fairly competent. They know that you're here, and know that I'll protect you inside the repair facility, so they'll ambush you along the way."

  Lando thought it over. There were a lot of streets out there, and six people couldn't cover very many of them. It seemed as though Lucky Lou had overstated the odds.

  Lucky Lou shook his head sadly, as if he could see what Lando was thinking. "You're wrong. Dead wrong. They've got help, a gang of oxy vamps called the Air Heads, and they're just waiting to pop your suits."

  Wendy felt a vortex of violence swirl around her, always there, waiting to pull her down. What should she do? Fight? Or stop, having seen that killing leads to more killing, with no end in sight? But the questions seemed pointless since events were racing out of control.

  Lando felt the old man was leading them somewhere, providing information in dribs and drabs, so they'd arrive at the conclusion that he wanted.

  "Okay… Mega-Metals hired some guns. So what would you suggest?"

  Lucky Lou smiled. His teeth were perfect. "I thought you'd never ask. The problem is transportation. You'll never make it on foot. We tried to call a cab but the word is out. No one wants your business. What you need is some sort of vehicle."

  Lando held up a hand. "Don't tell me… let me guess. You just happen to have one for sale."

  Lucky Lou frowned. "Maybe I'm wasting my time here. Your father's fairly smart… I wonder what happened to you."

  Lando saw that the other man was genuinely offended. For all his commercialism, Lucky Lou saw himself as a good Samaritan. For the moment at least. "Sorry… I retract the comment."

  Lucky Lou nodded slowly. "That's more like it. As I was saying, you need some sort of vehicle, and I have something that might do the trick. And it's on the house."

  All Lando could do was nod and say, "Thanks."

  The old man's eyelids fluttered for a moment and then returned to normal. "You're welcome, son. Good luck. And say hello to your father for me."

  Lando said that he would, and watched as the coffinlike box turned back towards the huge wall display. Lights were blinking, warning Lucky Lou of money that could be made or lost, demanding his attention.

  Acting on orders that Lando had neither seen nor heard, the security team led them out of Lucky Lou's office and into a heavily defended checkpoint. It included a lock, where they were told to seal their suits, and a huge set of armored doors. When the doors closed there was no light except that provided by their helmets. White blobs danced across the walls and ceiling.

  The security team spread out, weapons up, helmets swiveling back and forth.

  Lando checked his blast rifle and swallowed to lubricate a dry throat. The tunnel was dark and ominous. Anything could be waiting to ambush them.

  The woman and two of the men took the point, followed by Lando and Wendy, followed by the fourth member of the security team.

  They walked for a good twenty minutes or so, long enough to be well beyond the perimeter of the hotel's free-fire zone, and under the ruins.

  The tunnels varied. Those closest to the hotel were relatively new and graffiti-fr
ee. The rest dated back to the glory days. Some had been used for maintenance, others had provided access to long-dead shopping centers, and at least one was part of a now-ruined subway system.

  They followed that one for quite a while, walking along the still shiny power rail, and squeezing by a frozen trans car. Lando's helmet beam danced across the interior as he edged along the side of the vehicle, boots seeking purchase on the tiny ledge, but there was nothing to see. Only dust-covered seats and ads for products that were no longer available.

  Then they were clear, and climbing a long inoperative escalator, its metal stairs almost invisible under the accumulated dust and debris.

  Once, as they passed a side passage near the head of the escalator, Lando saw boot prints in the dust. Boot prints that were crisp and well-defined around the edges. The team leader saw them too, and motioned for everyone to remain silent, gliding down the hall with her autoblaster ready to fire.

  But time passed and nothing happened. Gradually, bit by bit, Wendy allowed herself to relax. Then, about five minutes later, they arrived at their destination.

  The security team came to a halt, signaled for Lando and Wendy to do likewise, and took a quick look around. Satisfied with what they'd found, or hadn't found, two of the team stood guard while the others worked on a large pile of trash.

  Some of the debris was heavy, and would've been difficult to move on Terra, but was fairly easy on Mars.

  Lando caught nothing more than glimpses at first, sections of curved metal, and glints of colored duraplast. Then a cover was pulled away, and as the cloud of dust settled slowly towards the floor, a scooter was revealed.

  It was a two-seater, complete with dual antigrav units, and more power than was necessary on a planet like Mars. With very little gravity to overcome, and hardly any atmosphere to slow it down, the scooter would go like a bat out of hell.