by Jake Elwood
Joss shook her head.
"So you were running some kind of a con, then. Was it—"
"Knock it off, Liz," Chan said. "You don't exactly have a spotless record yourself. Aren't you banned from the entire moon of Ganymede?"
Liz reddened. "They started it," she muttered, and fell silent.
"We can make this work," Chan continued. "We'll be arriving on the Athena, which will boost our credibility. We'll pass ourselves off as rich Belters. Prospectors who got lucky." He gestured at Rhett, standing silent at the back of the bridge. "We even have our own butler robot." He paused. "I'm sorry, Rhett. We'll have to treat you like a servant to make this work."
"I quite understand," the robot said. "I appreciate your concern."
Chan grinned at Rhett. "You know, I'm never sure if there's actually a person in there or not."
"Of course there is," said Joss.
"Of course there isn't," Liz said at the same time. She turned a bit pink. "Er, no offence, Rhett."
"None taken, Miss Elizabeth."
Chan pointed at Joss. "You'll be my trophy wife. We'll swagger in like we own the place, and no one will look at us twice."
"What about me?" Liz demanded.
"You'll stay here," Chan said. "Try not to get arrested. But, you know, don't try too hard. Don't hurt anyone."
Liz snorted, as if it wasn't a realistic concern.
"Stay with the ship as best you can," Chan continued. "If there's any chance of flying clear before they impound her, get her out of here."
Liz nodded, and Chan turned back to Joss. "Now," he said. "What exactly do we need to get into Montgolfier?"
Two hours later, Joss walked onto the Athena with Chan at her elbow and Rhett behind them carrying their luggage. They were decked out in good-quality replicas of the accoutrements that rich spacers wore for status. By all appearances Chan wore leather boots and a designer watch. His bracelet and neck chain were stainless steel, but they passed well enough for white gold. Joss was in a slinky, impractical dress with a chain of ersatz emeralds at her throat and a gem-encrusted watch. There bags were decent knock-offs of wildly expensive designer brands, an extravagance that Chan had argued over. They were going to need those iridium ingots quite badly by the time they found them. This was turning into a very expensive trip.
They paused in an opulent foyer just beyond the gangplank. "Now what?" said Chan.
Joss shrugged. "It's thirty hours to Venus," she said. "I guess we try to relax and enjoy the trip."
It was not a restful voyage. About half the passengers had the distinctive Venusian drawl, and every time she heard it, it took Joss back to her time in Montgolfier two years before. She'd left the floating city under less than ideal circumstances, and it was a chore to keep smiling and radiating confidence while waiting for the impact of a heavy hand on her shoulder. She had no desire to face the consequences of the things she'd done before she fled the inner planets.
It was with a great sense of relief that she heard the ship-wide announcement that the Athena was in orbit around Venus. Shuttles would be taking passengers down to Montgolfier, and she queued up with Chan and Rhett to be among the first ones.
With a pressure of ninety atmospheres and temperatures in excess of and 400° Celsius, the surface of Venus was a hellish nightmare entirely hostile to life. Fifty kilometers above the surface, however, pressure and temperature were much like the surface of the Earth. With a gravitational pull of about 90% Earth normal, the skies above Venus were close enough to paradise to make the presence of sulfuric acid clouds seem like a minor inconvenience.
Joss took a window seat on the shuttle and watched the bulk of the Athena drop away, then turned to look at the planet rushing toward them. Venus was a featureless ball of yellow-tinged white cloud, remarkably dull to look at. She craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of Montgolfier, and was rewarded by the sight of a little black dot against the clouds. The dot grew and took on shape as the shuttle dropped, until she could make out the bulging rectangular shape of the city.
Montgolfier from a distance resembled a black beanbag pressed between two silver squares, or a jelly sandwich with far too much jelly, the filling leaking out in every direction. Most of the city's buoyancy came from a vast, soft bag of black polymer. To provide structure and to give ships a sturdy surface to land on, there were aluminum platforms on the top and bottom of the gas bag. Each platform was a dozen kilometers square, and the two platforms were about five kilometers apart. Within that polyhedron of seven hundred cubic kilometers was the thriving city of Montgolfier.
The top of the city looked featureless until the ship was quite close. The platform was full of windows, and the glass glittered for an instant as the shuttle passed through a band of reflected sunlight. She could make out hangars and other low structures, and even a few people in orange protective coveralls and bulbous glass helmets. The coveralls would be sealed but not pressurized, she knew, and she wondered what it would be like to walk on top of the city. Tourists sometimes took short walks outside, but residents as a rule never did.
"This should be interesting," Chan said from the seat beside her. He looked the way she felt, his face lined with exhaustion, his lips tight with stress. "I wonder how Liz is doing."
Back on Aphrodite, Liz stood in line at customs control, her stomach churning with a mix of anxiety and frustration. If only she could punch someone, she mused, she knew she would feel better immediately. The family in front of her was filled with excellent candidates. The younger children were loud, the older children were surly, and the parents wore clothing so dorky it was an offence to the eyes. All of them would benefit from a good thrashing, Liz was sure. Oh, they wouldn't like it as it was happening, but later they would thank her.
The family moved on, dragging their bags toward the entrance tube for the liner Xanadu, and Liz stepped up to the counter. The woman on duty gave her a tired smile and said, "Identity card?"
"Sure." Liz took the ID card from her pocket, but hung onto it. "I just need to get passage to Mercury. My crew is there, and I really need to—"
"I'll just need to scan your card," the woman interrupted. Her smile looked a bit fixed.
"All right." Liz extended her hand, but not quite far enough. "Here's the thing. There might be some issues with the card, but if I can just get to Venus I can—"
The woman leaned across the counter and plucked the card from Liz's fingers. She waved it over a scanner, a beep sounded, and she frowned as she looked into a display screen.
"Never mind what that says," Liz said desperately. "It has nothing to do with Aphrodite or Venus. You can still give me a ticket."
"I'm sorry," the woman said, and slid Liz's card across the counter. "I'm afraid you're not cleared to leave the station."
Liz closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She knew what the problem was. She was restricted to the station pending a criminal investigation. The others had made it out only hours before the ban. Inner Planet Express was investigating the crew of the Stark Raven on suspicion of fraud and theft. The management of Aphrodite Station were cooperating fully by denying Liz an exit visa. She was trapped on the station until the authorities decided what to do with her.
And whatever they decided, it wasn't going to be good.
"It's okay," Liz said. "You can let me through. I haven't done anything wrong."
"Sorry. I can't."
"Sure you can. I just, I mean …"
The woman's lips thinned. "No. Sorry, but no." She leaned sideways to look past Liz. "Next, please."
A wave of fury rose, and Liz trembled, fighting the urge to haul the woman over the counter and teach her a thing or two about manners. However, committing assault was not the brightest way to deal with the problem of impending arrest. It wouldn't get her off Aphrodite, and it certainly wouldn't help her situation.
It would sure feel good, though.
Calming herself with an effort, Liz gave the woman a glare that made her go pale under her make
up. Then, taking a deep breath and telling herself she'd won some kind of moral victory, Liz turned and stalked out of the departure terminal.
She marched through the curved hallways of Aphrodite Station, yearning for the rough-and-tumble lifestyle of the outer planets. What she needed was a mugger, someone she could bash without restraint until her blood pressure came down. For that matter, a station like Coriolis would have shady pilots only too ready to ignore little formalities like exit visas when there was money to be made. Not Aphrodite, though. The pilots she'd approached here had been almost comically shocked at the idea of breaking rules.
The long walk around the perimeter of the station calmed her down somewhat, but the sight of the Stark Raven brought her blood pressure climbing back up to combat levels. The Aphrodite port authority had inflicted gross indignities on her beautiful ship. There were titanium clamps on the dorsal hatch and on the aft airlock. The clamps, thick ugly silver things, prevented the hatches from closing. It was impossible to make the ship airtight. There was no way she could leave the station.
Cutting through the clamps wouldn't be impossible, just time-consuming. She estimated it would take an hour or more for each clamp, and there was no way she would have that long. There were tamper alarms built into the clamps. The moment she started to cut, she'd have the port authority all over her. Tampering with the clamps was punishable by imprisonment. Any attempt to wriggle out of the trap she was in would only rob her of the little freedom she had left.
She clambered up the ramp, trudged through the aft airlock, and plodded onto the bridge, where she dropped into the useless helm station and propped a foot up on a console. She patted the monitor beside her and said, "Sorry, old girl. It looks like we'll be staying right here for a while."
The grand entrance hall for Montgolfier was a vast open space, three stories high with a ceiling that was mostly glass. Much of the floating city was open space, since volume was the key to buoyancy. Potted trees stretched their branches nearly to the ceiling high above, and every surface was covered by glittering chrome, faux marble, or flashing lights. Baskets of flowers filled the air with perfume, and fountains added the sound of splashing to the faint background sound of classical music.
There were ornate moldings, vast sculptures, and display screens that blazed with light. Everything was opulent, rich, and gaudy. None of it was particularly tasteful, but all of it was expensive, and the overall impact was that of a dazzling feast for the senses.
The hall was also appallingly crowded, and Joss found herself staring around in dismay. Somehow she had forgotten just how many people there were in Montgolfier. She saw her own consternation mirrored in Chan's face. There were tourists with bags, bustling service personnel greeting people and helping them onto electric carts, wealthy locals in flashy clothing, and working-class locals in coarse garb. There had to be hundreds of people in just this one room. How were they ever going to find one con man, when they didn't even know his real name?
"Any ideas where to start?" Chan asked. When she shook her head he said, "How about you, Rhett? Hey, where's Rhett?"
Joss looked at Chan, startled. The robot was nowhere in sight. She turned in a slow circle, scanning the crowd. There were other robots in sight, not many, most of them little rolling units carrying luggage or parcels. She could see a butler robot with realistic rubber skin, wearing an outdated black tuxedo, escorting a couple of arriving passengers through the crowd, but no sign of Rhett.
Finally a flash of gold caught her eye. She tugged Chan's sleeve and started through the crowd. A small service robot was scraping posters from a pillar done up to look like pink marble. Rhett was beside the little robot, edging sideways as the robot worked, staying just ahead of the scraping arm as he examined the posters. As Joss arrived, she could see why.
The pillar was plastered with handbills, each one featuring a pen drawing of Geoff's face.
"Good work, Rhett," she said as she reached him. "Can we get this robot to stop for a minute?"
Rhett lifted a metal hand. He held half a dozen long strips of paper that had just peeled from the pillar. "I have saved a copy of the illustration," he said. "I've also scanned the pillar thoroughly. I could recreate the entire arrangement if you require it."
"That shouldn't be necessary," Joss assured him. "Let's go take a look at what you've got."
Leaving the service robot to its work, the three of them made their way through the grand hall to a café near one corner. They took a table, keyed in an order for a cup of coffee, and spread the strips of paper on the table. Assembling the picture took but a moment.
"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?"
Beneath the screaming headline was a fairly decent sketch of Geoff, easily recognizable. His hair in the sketch was a bit shorter than Joss remembered, but the cleft in his chin and his amused grin made him unmistakable.
"Con man! Liar! Thief!" read the next line, and she smiled grimly. It was him, all right.
Below that, in smaller print, was a simple and heartbreaking message. "I have had my life savings taken by this unscrupulous man. You may be his next target! If you have seen him, please contact Lisa at the number below. He is not to be trusted. Believe nothing that he says. Above all, don't let him into your heart."
Joss looked up. "Wow," she said. "Sounds like we got off easy."
"Shall I contact the lady?" Rhett asked, and Chan nodded.
For a moment nothing happened. Joss always found it disconcerting when Rhett made calls using his internal electronics. It was even weirder when he played both sides of the conversation using the speakers built into his face. After a string of electronic beeps a feminine voice said, "Thank you for calling my alert line for the con man and thief known as Gary Land. Have you encountered this person?"
"I have," said Rhett. He tilted his head and said, "We're connected to a simple AI protocol, not a person."
"Can you tell me the nature of your interaction?" the voice said. "Do you know where he is now?"
"We have seen him," Rhett said smoothly, "but information isn't free. We would like to know what you know of him, as well."
Joss felt her eyebrows rise. Where had Rhett learned to play hardball?
"Please stand by," the voice said. Most of a minute crept by. At last a woman's voice spoke, similar to the earlier voice but with more nuance, more emotion. "My name is Lisa," she said. "Perhaps we should meet."
Chapter 3
They met in a restaurant in the heart of Montgolfier, kilometers from the nearest window. Chan was delighted to find huge plastic slides connecting the different levels, some of them plunging as far as a kilometer at a time. He slid on his backside, grinning like an idiot the whole time. Rhett rode in a plastic basket to keep from scraping the slide. When the three of them weren't sliding, they walked. There were electric carts available, but like most things on Montgolfier they were prohibitively expensive.
Montgolfier, he discovered, was not all glitz and wealth. They descended into a grittier part of the city, with scuffed plastic floors and walls of drab gray. There were no more designer outfits or robotic servants. Instead they saw working-class citizens in mass-produced clothing and grubby little robots that rolled along on wheels or treads. Posh boutiques and elegant restaurants gave way to cluttered shops and garish diners.
Lisa was waiting for them in the back of one such diner. She wasn't hard to spot, a slim, nervous woman in a voluminous skirt who fidgeted and twitched, smoothing her clothes unnecessarily as they crossed the room. She was about thirty, with a long thin face framed by shoulder-length dark hair and lined by stress.
The four of them took seats and ordered finger foods, making awkward small talk until the food came. When no one else seemed about to speak, Chan gave Lisa a quick outline of their encounter with the man they knew as Geoff.
"That's him, all right." She fidgeted with a dumpling, lifting it to her mouth and then lowering it without taking a bite. "Bastard." She set the dumpling down, staring at it as she spoke
. "He came here about six months ago. Or at least, that's what he told me. Maybe he was here all along. I have to question every single thing he ever told me." She looked up, and there was real anguish in her eyes. "Every single thing!"
Joss murmured something comforting, and Lisa took a deep breath. "Anyway," she said. "We fell in love. Or at least, I did. He …" She squeezed her eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. "I had a job with a freight company, and he used to ask me about my work. He seemed so fascinated. But he said everything about me fascinated him." Her fingers tightened, and the dumpling split, spilling cubes of carrot and squash across the plate in front of her.
"We always had lunch together, and one day he didn't show up." She busied herself wiping her fingers on a napkin, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I was so worried about him. Then I found out that we were robbed." She looked up, then averted her eyes again. "They blamed me," she said. "Five crates of Venn crystals stolen from our warehouse, and my pass code used to open the doors. I lost my job." She looked up, and her voice broke as she said, "And I never saw him again!"
She rose from her chair and bolted for the back of the restaurant, disappearing through a beaded curtain. Chan looked at Joss, seeing his own discomfort echoed on her features. He glanced at the robot, who looked as calm and unfazed as ever, and said, "Sometimes I envy you, Rhett."
Lisa came back, looking fragile but composed, and sat down. "Sorry," she said. "It was months ago, but I hardly ever talk about it."
"We understand," Joss assured her. "Have you seen him since that day?"
"Just once," Lisa said. "It was two weeks ago. He was in Bespin Park." A tiny smile touched her lips. "He looked so handsome …." She flushed. "The creep. Anyway, he didn't see me, and I followed him. Then he went through the gates of Stratos and I lost him."
"What's Stratos?" Joss said.
"It's a private community," Lisa told her. She made a derisive gesture with her hand. "Security at the gates, to keep the riffraff out. People like us don't get in there unless we're making a delivery or fixing something. Or cleaning up a mess."