“This is great, isn’t it, Jack?” Fritzi said between gulps.
The vendor ignored them. His attitude irritated Jack. He took another bite. Fritzi dug his beefy fingers into a zipper pocket for more credit slips for another sandwich. Jack caught his elbow. “Let’s try somewhere else, Fritzi. I don’t think we’re appreciated here.”
Finally, the vendor looked at him. He was a squat, middle-aged man, with lines about his nondescript eyes. “Do us both a favor, kid, and move along. Take the walk somewhere. I’ll get more business without miners around. Take my advice.”
Fritzi frowned, but it was Jack who said, “What’s wrong with miners?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You’re a little smellier and poorer than the rest of us, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” The man glared at him. “Go back where you belong. At least you’re underground there. If the Thraks hit here,” and he waved a callused hand. “There’s nothing between us and the Great Beyond but a cracked dome.”
“You’re blaming us for that?”
The vendor looked at him from purple shadowed, hallowed eyes. “Why do you think the Bugs are attacking? What, they want my sandwich stand? But they won’t hit the mines direct. Why chance destroying what they’re after? But the rest of us… we’re sitting targets and the blockade cuts our supplies every week. How would you like living like that?”
“You don’t sound like you do.”
“C’mon, Jack, let’s go.”
Jack shrugged off Fritzi’s big paw. He looked the vendor in the eye. “So what’s keeping you here?”
“Nothing. Nothing but poverty, son.” The man laughed humorlessly. “I used to work the tunnels. I paid off my contract, with nothing left to go home on. Now I don’t even know if I have a home. Now go on, get out of here. I’ve got to survive and won’t anybody be coming around with you diggers here.”
Fritzi steered Jack away from the vendor. “Don’t make trouble, Jack,” and he pulled them away from the stand. He sniffed at the fading savory aroma and added mournfully, “I didn’t think you’d make trouble.”
“I wasn’t making trouble. I just wanted to know what he thought.” Escapee contractors could expect little help or support from the domes. The slidewalk was crowded, but his companion’s considerable bulk parted a wake around them. “Look at these people. None of them are smiling.”
“People don’t smile in Lasertown.” Fritzi came to an abrupt halt, making about ten people trying to avoid him very unhappy. “I don’t want you bothering Gail.”
“Gail?”
“My daughter.”
Now it was Jack’s turn to steer Fritzi. “I won’t make trouble for Gail, I promise.”
“Good. Because she’s a doper and sometimes she don’t even recognize me… but I don’t like it when she cries.”
Silent for a few moments, Jack walked against the tide of people. “You’re buying her out.”
Fritzi nodded, the movement shrugging even his massive shoulders. “That’s why I signed for five years. That’ll get us both out.”
If he lived that long. Five years in an operation like Lasertown was damn near a lifetime sentence. And that also explained why Fritzi maybe did a little company spying, to lighten that sentence. Jack didn’t think Fritzi was smart enough to damage anybody by reporting them. Boggs had had the same opinion. Jack sighed.
Fritzi began his little monologue again, about everything in general and nothing in particular, until the streets converged and Jack saw that they had entered a region which excelled in promising noise and the ultimate fulfillment in life.
He was distracted for a moment from all the various kinds of fulfillment to be had by a pair of Walkers, their robes and under suits in somber colors contrasting with the cacophony of the pleasure sector. They walked briskly through the zone, obviously in transit somewhere and uncaring of the delights that surrounded them.
Fritzi made a noise, followed by, “Walkers.”
Jack remembered the overheard conversation in the governor’s office. He wondered briefly what the site must contain, to keep such a determined contingent of Walkers here to investigate it. Playing a waiting game in an outpost like this could become very expensive.
Fritzi came to an abrupt halt. “Here it is. We can go in here, or up the stairs.”
“Here” led them through a voyeur pit and shop. Fritzi stopped at the arenas and looked hesitantly at him. Jack, although he was feeling particularly human, shook his head. “We’re just visiting your daughter.”
The unhappy look on Fritzi’s face evaporated instantly. “I’m glad I brought you, Jack,” he said, opening the door to the outside stairs.
Inside, the rooms were little more than boxes. Jack followed Fritzi hurriedly to the cell that belonged to Gail. She sat on the bed, and looked up when they came in, and her instantaneous smile was an echo of her father’s expression. Fritzi found a chair to perch on and Jack sat on the floor next to the door.
She had been a pretty girl. Her lustrous brown hair swung nearly to the floor. Her skin was a little too pale, and the roadmap of veins under the translucent skin was too purple. Her eyes misted a little as Fritzi leaned over and kissed her.
“How are they treating you, Daddy?”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” She looked apprehensively at Jack, then away quickly. “You make sure they feed you enough.”
“I will.” Fritzi looked across the hall and tore his eyes away, his rough skin reddening. Without turning around to look, Jack could tell from the noise that one of the girls was conducting a bit of business in the open.
Gail waved her palm over the locking beam and the door slid shut. Jack moved hastily as it threatened to take a nip out of his shoulder.
“You’re not supposed to do that,” Fritzi said.
“I know, but—” she looked at her hands. She’d knotted her fingers together uncomfortably.
Fritzi looked at Jack. “She’s not supposed to do that,” he repeated. “Unless she’s got business.”
Jack felt uneasy. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll leave her some money. You two just go ahead and visit.”
She shot him a grateful look. The two of them talked for a few minutes while Jack leaned his head back against the door frame and rested.
They paused. Fritzi cleared his throat. “Well, daughter, that’s about all this visit.”
Gail brushed her long wings of hair from her slender face. “It’s been good seeing you again. Don’t stay away so long.”
Her father looked at the floor. “I was here last week,” he said, finally. “Don’t you remember?”
That too pale skin pinked abruptly. Her eyes misted over. Fritzi reached over, rumbling, “Now don’t do that.”
Gail blotted her eyes. “Right.” She sniffed. “Now I’ve got something to tell you. Something’s going on, I don’t know what. One of the girls is missing—well, I guess she’s not missing any more. They found her body outside the domes.”
Jack straightened. “The sleeping sickness?”
She nodded. “They think so. I hear she turned all weird before she left. Said she could hear voices calling her.”
“Did you know her?”
“Only a little. She was all right.”
“Was she—could she have been taken out by someone?”
Gail shook her head. “They don’t think someone did that to her. A camera caught a couple of shots of her, alone.” She gave a tiny shudder. “Daddy, they’re doing some work at the site. No one’s supposed to know about it. They’re using some of the old crew—told them they’d get off early if they worked the site.” Her eyes misted heavily. “They might ask you because they know you need the credits. Don’t go! It’s… it’s dangerous and ugly out there. I’ve heard some terrible things. They say that’s where the sickness is worse. Don’t let them make you go!” Her voice went high and strained and Fritzi grabbed her in a ferocious bear hug.
“I won’t leave you alone
,” he promised.
Jack got up and waited outside as they said good-bye. He counted out a few of his precious recreational credits. He pushed them into Gail’s hand as they left. As they walked back through, Jack felt an urgent and burning need, but knew this was not the place where he could satisfy it. Why was Franken bearing the cost and danger of excavating the site instead of turning it over to the Walkers? And did it, maybe, have something to do with the Thrakian interest in Lasertown? Norcite ore was valuable, but was it worth breaking the treaty over? He frowned as he thought about it, and as he returned to the tunnels, the unhappiness on his face mirrored all that he’d found in the domes of Lasertown.
A mournful wail drifted through the barracks and the mess. It seemed to permeate the mood and even the snap of cards and click of dice did little to disperse it. Boggs looked up once, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I wish he’d choke on that mouth sync.”
Equally perverse, Stash said, “I like it. Deal.”
They returned to their card game.
Jack sat over a plastiboard, sketching out what he could remember of the city from the governor’s offices and from his trip with Fritzi. Fritzi sat across the table from him, happily eating biscuits and what passed for milk from the automat. He seemed to be blissfully unaware of what Jack was doing with the sketchboard, but even if he reported Jack, he doubted the information would pique anyone’s interest. Bull Quade’s Sweepers picked up much more flagrant information over the wiretaps throughout the barracks, if anyone even bothered to monitor them.
He rubbed his temple thoughtfully. Almost as if called forth by his unconscious, the mess door schussed open and Quade stood in its shadows, looking about the mess. The squat, bald man looked more tired than mean, for once, Jack thought as he lifted his head to stare back.
“Boggs.”
Summoned, the shift supervisor looked up.
“Spread the word. We want a crew for some work outside the tunnels and domes. Triple overtime for any who volunteer.”
“Outside the tunnels?”
“It’s risky, that’s why the money’s good.” Bull nodded sharply. “Send ‘em to me.”
Fritzi slowly came to attention. He hesitated, then shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’ll go.”
Jack reached for him. “Fritzi! You promised Gail—”
He shrugged Jack off. “What kind of work?”
“Digging.”
The mournful music broke off, and the shuffling of feet from the barracks to the other end of the mess began, as off-duty crew pressed in to hear what was going on.
“What happened to the old crew?”
“Everyone gets tired. Plus, the shift bosses were raising hell with me that I wasn’t givin’ everybody the opportunity to earn that kind of credit.”
“Bullshit,” an anonymous voice heckled. “The work’s as dangerous as hell.”
Quade raised his voice. “All of you. Either volunteer or don’t. I ain’t here to baby-sit you. Make up your minds.”
The colossal man stepped toward Quade. “I’m in,” Fritzi said.
No one else moved. There was a deathly silence as the foreman and Fritzi left, and someone whispered, “That’ll be the last we see of him.”
No one disagreed.
Chapter Thirteen
Amber wound her hands tightly together. She missed the constant thrumming of the ship, though not its movement, and the docking had been anything but smooth—something about an evasive pattern. She bit her lip. She could do anything but wait. Anything.
The Lasertown accommodations were anything but plush even though it was obvious the best that could be gotten had been reserved for Colin. The Walkers stationed here on the moon had been coming by in a steady stream to pay their respects and talk to their leader. She had sat in the side room, watching their faces illuminated with wolfish hunger as they’d waited for their audience. She was not sure what it was that had made Colin a saint, but she sensed that his followers believed in it with all their heart.
Which made the Walker far different from any religious figure she’d ever known on the streets of Malthen. Religion and parapsychology were two of the biggest scams that could be run. Gambling was a scam, too, but it was always there and anyone who gambled knew that there were winners and losers. But religion was different. It never preached losers. Amber’s lip curled slightly. She’d yet to see any winners come out of those scams.
But it was patently obvious, even with her cynical outlook and inexperience, that this man was something different. Walkers were radicals. They didn’t worry about a Second or Third Coming. They weren’t looking for God’s boundaries—they were looking for His limitless horizons. Everywhere He could, and had, touched.
St. Colin exuded a quiet kind of magnificence. Perhaps it was his deep-rooted faith or his intelligence or his ability to organize people to do almost anything he asked of them. Whatever it was, he had it and he wasn’t the sort of man to abuse it. She’d been surprised when she found out that Jack had worked for St. Colin in an internal matter at the Emperor’s request. She hadn’t heard anything about that. But then, Jack had stopped talking to her much. He’d not visited very often that last month, what with her school schedule and his duty schedule. The corner of her mouth quirked. School had certainly gone down the Disposall. She hadn’t thought of it in weeks.
St Colin had agreed with her that Pepys shouldn’t be contacted until Jack was positively ID’d and located, but even then the Emperor would probably not be able to pull strings. Pepys prided himself on impartiality. He could help Jack once Jack had begun to extricate himself, but not before. Not for a paltry matter like contract labor. Galactic war was another matter.
One which Jack was likely to start once she got the armor to him. Amber gave a thin smile. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, determined to wait in the hotel until St. Colin’s return. He had promised her he would find out Jack’s whereabouts and arrange a meeting. Even contract labor had some privileges. A visit from family would be in order, once he was off shift. Then it was only a matter of getting a copy of his contract and seeing how he’d been signed, chilled and delivered. She’d find the loopholes. And if she couldn’t… perhaps a little psychic persuasion would help.
The enigmatic smile stretched wider. Amber felt her search was almost over.
The hotel door vibrated and she sensed Lenska and the Walker returning. It schussed open in response to their palms and she sprang to her feet in welcome.
St. Colin was frowning. He crossed the room and held out his hands to her. “Patience, Amber.”
“Did you find him?”
“Yes, but…” and he looked down at her with those brown eyes of his that had already searched quite a few solar systems for some sign of his savior. “There’s been an accident.”
“What?” She flinched in alarm, but he held her solidly. “What kind of accident?”
“In the mining tunnels. They’re doing all they can. They’ll call us when they know.”
***
Jack pulled the deepsuit off the rack. The tech, Renaldo, grinned at him from the other side. “Double shift again?”
“Whatever it takes.” He smiled back. “You guys got it easy. You stay back in here and sit around all day—”
Renaldo fairly beamed under the ribbing. He waved his prosthetic arm at Jack. “That’s right, digger. You go work out there where the air is real thin. I’ll stay here and take a nap.” He ducked his head as one of the cable layers yelled at him, and went over to see what was wrong.
Jack stepped into the suit. The feeling that it was the same as his armor and yet entirely different always set him on edge. It was a suit, yes, but flimsy and unworthy of him. He gritted his teeth as he wired and tubed himself and then shrugged the rest of the suit on. Reaching for his helmet, he stifled a yawn. Double shifting took its toll sooner or later and he’d begun to feel it deep in his bones. Carefully he looked over his indicators and readouts. The techs had given the suit a full
charge. Today he could walk out, if he wanted, but there would be no place to go. He stretched to limber his neck muscles, thinking that even if he had found a place to go, doubling back to the domes, he’d be picked up immediately unless there was another Thrakian raid and he could be counted among the missing. The timing was delicate and almost entirely out of his control.
But not always. It would not always be beyond his ability. Jack pulled the helmet on and twisted it into locking position.
Instantly the noise and bantering of the rest of the crew suiting up was muffled away. Ron was teasing Dobie again. He could hear them vaguely, but it was as though he’d been shut away into a silent world where one was measured by deed, not talk. It was a world in which he felt comfortable, though not all of the laborers did. He left the com lines off.
Stash shouldered past him wordlessly as he headed for the trams. Jack watched him go. Alfredo Boggs tapped him on the shoulder and leaned forward so their face plates could touch.
“I want you to work the T-section tunnel today.”
He nodded. Satisfied, Boggs backed away and led the way to the trams. Jack climbed aboard, bulky now that his suit had pressurized, and settled down at the back. His would be one of the last stops as he’d be working on the farthest and newest section. Even Crew One hadn’t been in there yet. The tram dropped him off, then pulled away without letting another welder off and Jack watched, baffled.
He chinned on the com. “Hey, Pops—where’s Fritzi?”
There was no answer. Jack watched out his face plate. He pursed his lips, wondering if he should be concerned, then shrugged and began walking to the work station. It was a common safety factor to never isolate a worker. They always went at least in twos, sometimes in bigger teams. But the work schedule was running behind and Boggs might be stretching a little to cover lost time. He hadn’t spotted Fritzi in the shop. Maybe he hadn’t come back in from the site yet.
Working alone, it would take most of first shift to finish the welding on the one arm and most of the second shift on the second joint. He wouldn’t be able to request test pressurization until tomorrow when he or someone else finished the job. The tunnels were never left pressurized beyond the barracks bulkheads, but it was common practice to test them, in case something happened on the upper levels or in the domes and the population had to be evacuated down here. Even so, the recycling computers monitored the airworthiness of the tunnels carefully. If any of the sections lost integrity, the bulkheads at either end would shut down immediately and seal it off. It was the only way to prevent a chain reaction of leaks that could jeopardize all of Lasertown.
Lasertown Blues Page 11