Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  Lando sipped his beer. There was an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. There were two ways to make money in the smuggling business. You could take big chances and make big money, or take smaller chances and make smaller money. The second approach was generally the best. You lived longer and made more in the long run. Zack knew that. Hell, he had taught it to his son, but was now violating his own rule. Why?

  Lando looked his father in the eyes. "This doesn't sound like you, Dad. It goes against everything you taught me. Why?"

  Zack Lando opened his mouth, started to say something, and changed his mind. He laughed.

  "You know what? I was just about to say something really stupid. Something along the lines of 'who are you to question my judgment?' But that would be stupid, since I was the one who taught you to question other people's motives in the first place. Well, the truth is that I'm taking a little more risk than usual."

  Zack leaned forward across the table, his eyes full of excitement, his voice little more than a whisper. "This is the scam of a lifetime, son, the big one that makes all the others look like kid stuff, the score they'll remember a hundred years from now. Just think! Zack Lando scores big with his son at his side! Your mother would be proud!"

  Lando nodded, and knew his father was wrong. His mother would've been scared and worried, anything but proud. She would have seen this for what it was.

  Zack Lando hungered for something more than money, something harder to get, and something more lasting. He wanted smuggler immortality. A rep so big, so impressive, that he'd be known long after his death. A deity like Big Red, Arlow Sampson, or Istan Mugatha.

  It had always been there, an almost worshipful respect for the best, and a desire to join their circle. But Zack was a conservative by nature, a man with a wife and son, a respected but second-echelon player.

  Now Zack was making his move and Lando didn't like it. Everything was ass backwards. Sons were supposed to take chances, while fathers counseled caution.

  Lando opened his mouth, and allowed it to close. One look in the older man's eyes told him it was hopeless. No amount of talk was going to change Zack's mind.

  So Lando did the only thing he could do. He forced a smile, stuck out his hand, and said, "Okay, Dad. Count me in."

  Exactly six days later Lando found himself standing on a white sandy beach watching a hovercraft speed away. Spray flew out and away from its duraplast skirts as it cleared the end of the reef and skittered into a turn. The roar of its engine dropped to a drone.

  Lando turned towards his father. Like his son, Zack Lando was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. The older man was sitting on a duffle bag and pretending to enjoy the sun.

  The island was located near Ithro's equator and well within the sun belt. It was more than a thousand miles away from the spaceport where they had left Wendy, and hundreds of miles from the nearest habitation.

  The hovercraft's skipper thought they were on a father-son outing, and had instructions to pick them up in eight days.

  Lando gestured toward the pile of duffle bags and watertight cases containing gear. "Okay, Dad. Give. What the hell are we doing on this island, and what's the camping gear for? You hate camping and always have."

  Zack Lando did his best to look mysterious. Throughout the journey from Jethro, and the subsequent trip across Ithro's largest continent, he'd refused to provide his son with any real information. There was no real reason for this secrecy beyond the pleasure it gave Zack, and both of them knew it.

  "All in good time, son, all in good time."

  Zack made a show of wiping his brow. "Warm, isn't it? Let's take a dive. I hear there's some marvelous marine life around here."

  Lando gave a sigh of exasperation and reached for his tanks. Fifteen minutes later the smuggler felt warm water slide across his skin as one world vanished and another appeared. The water was crystal clear and teeming with multicolored sea life.

  Some was native to Ithro, like the school of two-heads off to his left, but the rest were specially designed Earth variants. Lando saw coral, some parrotfish, and beyond them a shadow that might have been a shark.

  His father was just ahead, swimming strongly, kicking with his fins. A trail of silvery bubbles sailed back and passed Lando's head. There was something strange about his father's actions, something deliberate about the way he swam, as if he were heading somewhere definite rather than simply looking around.

  Wait a minute… What the hell was that? Lando saw a large dark object that might have been rock except for a rather symmetrical shape. It looked familiar, but how could that be? Lando kicked harder as his father headed straight towards whatever the thing was.

  Then Lando placed it, and couldn't believe his eyes. It was Queenie! His father's ship, some fifty feet underwater! What in the world?

  Zack Lando swam straight for the ship's lock, motioned for his son to wait, and palmed the lock. It opened immediately. A light came on. A brightly colored gem fish swam out.

  Lando followed his father into the lock. The outer door closed, the water level dropped, and their heads popped clear. Zack lifted his mask and Lando did likewise. The older man laughed. "You should see your expression!"

  Lando shook his head in amazement. "This takes the cake, Dad…. I'd heard that the navy had submersible ships…

  but I didn't know that Queenie qualified."

  "And she didn't," Zack answered, gesturing toward the rest of the lock. "Not until I spent a half mil to convert her."

  "A half mil?" Lando asked. "You put half a mil on a single scam? What is it? A cargo for some water world?"

  Zack looked smug. "Nope. The cargo is for Ithro."

  The last of the water gurgled down multiple drains. Lando looked confused, and was. "For Ithro? Then why are we hiding? Shouldn't we get the cargo first?"

  Zack grinned. He stood and shrugged his tanks off.

  "Nope. The cargo's aboard and has been for two months. That's the beauty of it. I have five million Imperials worth of Nerlinium Crystals sitting in the hold and no one the wiser."

  Like everyone else in the empire, Lando knew that Nerlinium Crystals were the almost magic component that made faster-than-light travel a reality, and that a planet known as Molaria was their only known source.

  And, like most of the other Imperial planets, Ithro had placed an extremely high duty on the crystals. So by buying them at the source, and smuggling them dirtside, a smuggler could make a rather tidy profit. No small task with Ithro's well-armed customs ships trying to catch you.

  Lando shrugged his tanks off and heard them clang against the bulkhead as he stood up. "So, how did you trick the patrols?"

  Zack palmed a switch. The inner hatch irised open. "I didn't trick the patrols. Not in the usual sense, at least. They're too damned good for that. I came in hard and heavy, fired a bunch of ECM stuff in every direction, and bulled my way past the weapons platforms. Great Sol, but you should've seen it! Missiles accelerating towards me, energy beams slicing this way and that, and Queenie dropping like a rock!"

  Lando followed his father out of the lock. "So how did you escape?"

  Zack laughed. "I didn't! I blew up about hundred miles from here. There was a big fire ball, wreckage all over the place, and no ship. Conclusion: target destroyed."

  Lando shook his head in admiration. It was a beautiful scam. Right up there with the biggies. No wonder his father was proud.

  Zack had dropped a specially designed bomb just above the water. The device exploded, spread wreckage all around, and concealed Queenie's splashdown. Then, while the customs types scrambled to get to the scene, Queenie had scuttled along the bottom to her present hiding place, more than a hundred miles from the point of entry.

  The two men left wet footprints down the shiny corridor. All around them could be heard the comforting murmur of air coming through ventilation ducts, the hum of fans, and the routine beeps that signaled an automated systems check.

  Lando sniffed the air and smiled. Queenie smel
led like home. He could detect the faint odor of his father's spicy gumbo, the lingering scent of an industrial-strength disinfectant, and something else that he remembered but couldn't quite identify.

  Lando had done a lot of growing up inside Queenie's hull, and she evoked lots of memories. He'd hit his head on the junction box over to the right, helped his mother bend the color-coded conduit up ahead, been in charge of the big first aid kit that was clipped to the starboard bulkhead. A bit later he'd check to make sure it was properly stocked.

  They passed through the lounge and the galley, and entered the control area. It was twice the size of The Tink's and nicely laid out. The main screen was filled with a beautiful scene of crystal-clear water, slowly moving fish, and gently swaying plants. It had a soothing effect, and Lando could have watched it for hours. He dropped into the co-pilot's chair and leaned back.

  Zack ran a check on all of the ship's systems, nodded his head in satisfaction, and turned to his son. "So? What do you think?"

  Lando smiled. "It's a great scam, Dad. One of the very best. You've got the goods, you've got them in place, and nobody knows. So what are you waiting for? And where do I come in? Or is this your way of giving me a handout?"

  Zack grimaced. "I'll take the last question first. No, this is not a handout, I need your help. A cargo is one thing, but a well-heeled customer is another, and I found one through a third party. The deal was sealed just before you arrived on Jethro."

  Lando shrugged. "Great. So what's the problem?"

  Zack smiled slowly. "Do you remember a man named Dox Morlan?"

  Lando frowned. "Some kind of official? Commerce Department or something like that?"

  Zack nodded. "Try head of customs."

  Lando's eyebrows shot up. "He's the customer?"

  His father nodded soberly. "He's the one."

  Lando thought about it. There had been rumors about Dox Morlan for a long time. Whispers of corruption, of dirty deeds, but nothing solid. So, was this what it seemed to be? A corrupt official using his position to make some extra money? Or just the reverse? An honest official out to nab a smuggler?

  The delivery would be extremely dangerous. If Morlan was corrupt, then he could use his government resources to steal Zack's cargo. If he was honest, then the whole thing was a setup.

  Lando's throat felt dry. He swallowed. "It stinks, Dad. What was it that you always said? 'Money doesn't mean much when you're dead'? Well, it's time to take some of your own advice."

  Zack rubbed his jaw. "I've thought about it, son, believe me I have, and part of me wants to cut and run. But another part wants to see the whole thing through. This is the big one, son, the one that will make my rep, and fund my old age. If I give up and pass it by, I'll spend the rest of my life looking back over my shoulder."

  There was a long silence as the two men looked at each other. One secure within the possibilities of youth, the other scared to let opportunities pass, afraid they wouldn't come again.

  Lando was the first to speak. "So you're betting that Morlan is corrupt, and more than that, willing to do a straight deal."

  Zack nodded. "My contacts tell me that he's as bent as a Zerk Monkey's tail. Not only that, but I've spoken with people who did deals with him, and were extremely pleased."

  "Five million credit deals?"

  Zack shrugged defensively. "No, but that doesn't mean anything."

  "No," Lando admitted. "I suppose it doesn't."

  "So you'll give me a hand?"

  Lando forced a smile. "Sure, Dad. I'll give you a hand."

  Zack beamed and jumped out of his chair. "I'll make us some lunch." His bare feet made a slapping noise as he headed for the galley.

  Lando looked up at the main screen. A school of brightly colored fish exploded in every direction. A long torpedo-shaped body swept by, its dorsals cutting the water like knives, its long curving teeth visible behind thin lips. The smuggler shivered and turned away.

  19

  It was evening and the stars twinkled in the sky. A migratory bird, one of those genetically engineered for Ithro, gave its characteristic call. It was a long, lonely sound, made even more so by the fact that there were no females present to hear it, and wouldn't be for another five hundred miles.

  There was activity deep underwater. The sea started to boil. Steam rose in a sudden rush. The bird blinked and shifted its weight from one leg to another. Fatigue fought the urge to take flight.

  Fear won and the bird flapped away as a delta-shaped hunk of black metal broke the surface and hovered on roaring repulsors. Water ran off the thing's back in sheets, four pillars of steam pushed it upwards, and the air vibrated to its power.

  Lando looked at his father with renewed respect. He'd never seen anyone attempt an underwater liftoff before, and Zack made it appear easy.

  The older man checked his readouts, found everything to his liking, and switched to main drive. Queenie skimmed across the water, picked up speed, and lifted towards the sky.

  Finally, when the ship was cruising at two hundred feet or so, they leveled out. The last thing Zack wanted to do was show up on radar.

  "How far is it?"

  Zack Lando eyed his scanners for any sign of company, found none, and spoke without turning his head. "The island is about two hundred miles due south. We'll be there in half an hour or so."

  Lando felt the weight in his stomach grow even heavier. Every nerve in his body told him to give it up, to go somewhere else, to run for safety. He searched his father's face. If the other man had similar feelings, there was no sign of it in his expression. Determination, yes. Excitement, yes. But fear? No.

  Lando forced his doubts down and back. The decisionmaking process was over. This was the time to prepare for whatever lay ahead. He brought Queenie's weapons systems on-line, ran them through an auto-check, and found everything to his liking. Energy cannon, missiles, and torpedos. All were ready to go.

  Lando placed the weapons systems on STANDBY, checked to make sure that the co-pilot's position was off-line, and switched his controls to the simulation mode. An indicator light came on and the word "simulation" blinked green in front of him.

  He opened a small storage compartment, removed a bundle of slippery black cloth, and shook it out. The fabric took the shape of a hood. There were no cutouts for mouth or eyes.

  Lando slipped it over his head. The inside of the hood smelled like warm plastic and reminded him of years gone by. He'd spent hundreds, maybe thousands, of hours inside the simulation hood, dealing with everything from hyperspace jumps to galley fires.

  An exact duplicate of Queenie's control systems and screens appeared in front of him. He turned his head to the left and a simulacrum called Instructor Jack nodded to him. He was holo-star handsome and extremely smug. Lando ignored the computerized image. Instructor Jack and he had never gotten along.

  A menu of possibilities appeared. Lando used the button located on the top surface of his left-hand control stick to choose BATTLE, SIMULATED GROUND.

  Another menu appeared. COMMAND, OR WEAPONS ONLY?

  Lando chose WEAPONS ONLY. Simulated data and video flooded his screens. The smuggler saw a rocky landscape with twin moons rising to the east. Wait a minute, what was that? A hint of movement to the right? Maybe, but there was no confirmation on IR, so…

  The world turned to flame. Instructor Jack screamed orders. A hundred dark forms rushed forward. Their energy weapons spat coherent light, missiles leaped away from their shoulders, and mortar rounds threw geysers of dirt into the air.

  Lando found that the old skills were still there, that the simulator could still scare the hell out of him, and that Instructor Jack was still a pain in the ass.

  When Lando pulled the hood off ten minutes later, he was soaked with sweat. His father glanced his way. There was tension around his eyes. "Welcome back. Ten to dirt. Stand by on weapons."

  Lando did as he was told. All weapons were ready. Time slowed. Each second was a minute long. Zack watched the sc
anners. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He wiped it away.

  A line of white breakers appeared and slid beneath them. Queenie dropped lower now, skimming above sandy desert, slowing as she neared the LZ.

  A radio beacon beeped, and dots in the shape of a cross appeared in front of them. Zack killed the ship's forward speed, switched to repellors, and spoke from the corner of his mouth. "Watch the bastards, son…. One wrong move and hose 'em down."

  Lando swallowed hard and felt bile at the back of his throat. He'd never seen his father this scared. Not the time on Dulo's moon, not when they lost the NAVCOMP halfway to Jethro, and not when the half-crazy merc attacked him with a force blade. It worried Lando to know that the man he'd always relied on, always looked up to, felt the same emotions that he did.

  The red dots flattened and grew farther apart as the ship lowered itself onto the sand. It shifted under the landing jacks and held. Zack triggered a spot. It lit up the area in front of Queenie's lock. The red dots disappeared.

  A male voice came over the speakers. "Hi there. Thanks for dropping in. Pop the cargo hatch and let's get this show on the road."

  Zack spoke into a wireless headset as he released his harness. "Not so fast, my friend. Show me five big ones or the hatch stays closed."

  "No problem," the voice replied. "I've got them right here. Cash certificates good anywhere in the empire. Come and get 'em."

  There was something about the voice, something about the glib way the man talked, that set Lando's nerves on edge. "Stay in the ship, Dad… I don't like the way this guy sounds."

  Zack Lando shook his head and touched the mute-switch on his headset. "We came for the money, remember? Now, watch the sensors, pop the rear hatch when I give the signal, and cook anything that looks weird."

  Lando nodded as his father spoke. "That's a roger. I'm coming out."

  Zack left the control room, and Lando turned his full attention to the sensors. IR showed a rather sizable blotch off to the right, just the right shape and size for a truck, and some smaller blobs that corresponded to people. Two of them to be exact.