Gun Runner

by Larry Correia

  “See, Jackson? I’ve still got it.” Then the captain turned his chair around. “Okay, team. Game time.”

  They all unbuckled from their seats. The light above the port door turned to green, indicating it was clear to open.

  “Please wait,” Control said over the open channel.

  They waited.

  “You may now disembark.”

  Tui flipped open a cover and swung the lever to release the door. There was a brief whoosh and whistle as air flowed in from the corridor, indicating the port had a bit more air pressure than the striker. There were two security guards waiting there with carbines slung. One was male, one female. They wore dark blue body armor with snappy orange accents. On their heads were black helmets with faceplates and heads-up display. They were accompanied by a couple of hovering bots with menacing ports, which were probably also guns.

  “You will need to leave all weapons on your ship. We’re here to make sure you comply,” the female guard said. “Welcome to Big Town.”

  Chapter 10

  “No guns?” The captain seemed genuinely surprised. “Is that a new policy?”

  The female security guard said, “Big Town is a gun-free zone now. It helps keep the peace. You’ll also want to leave behind anything that could be used as an explosive. You will be thoroughly scanned.”

  “Can we keep sharp, pokey objects?” Jackson asked.

  “Jackson.” The captain shook his head, warning him to behave. “We’ll do as the lady requested.” His tone indicated he knew this was nonsense, but they needed to get paid.

  The rest of them glanced at each other, then began to shed weapons.

  “Seems funny,” said Tui as he took a short-barreled autocannon from beneath his coat. “Somebody who needs us to run guns for him because he’s not allowed to have any, banning the people below him from having guns.”

  “We’re guests here,” Shade admonished him.

  “Wasn’t arguing, just amused by the irony is all.”

  Jackson wasn’t going to go in naked. He’d dealt with police like this before and knew he could count on Fifi and a couple of other accessories, so he shrugged, then removed the holster that was clipped to his belt, and went to stow it.

  The captain looked at the one gun, and gave Jackson a pointed look, “Didn’t you have two?”

  “You’re right,” Jackson said in mock surprise. “I plumb forgot.” And he removed the tiny holdout piece and set it next to its companion.

  “All of them,” the captain said to the crew.

  Tui, Katze, and Bushey complied, and soon a bunch of weapons had been crammed into the storage compartment. A nice big display of firepower.

  During all this Shade had simply watched. It appeared she was a step or two ahead. Or maybe she had something else that wasn’t technically a gun or explosive. Maybe Jane had given her a Fifi as well.

  The captain turned back to the security guards. “I think that does it.”

  “Thank you. As you exit your ship, please engage your shoe magnetics and stand here to be scanned. When you’re cleared, you will step down the corridor to where Frans will wait for you.”

  The crew moved into the corridor. The place had that rough, uneven look of a facility that had been slapped together from whatever modules they could get their hands on. The construction was metal grating—probably made from local meteorite ore—and exposed tubing. The air had a faint whiff of burning plastic.

  As the guard turned, Jackson noticed a white strip at the top of her chest. The name Lotte was printed there. Frans had a similar strip on his uniform with his name.

  “You Dutchies?” Jackson asked, because he’d once known a soldier with that last name from the Dutch colony back on Gloss.

  “Ja hoor,” she said. “There were several thousand of us among the first arrivals here.”

  The captain stepped out of their striker, went to the spot the guard designated, and held his hands crossed over his head. Three of the hovering bots surrounded him and then moved from head to toe in a choreographed pattern. When they finished, one said, “State your name, the name of your ship, and your business.”

  “Captain Nicholas Holloway. MSV Tar Heel. Here to negotiate some trade with the Warlord.”

  The scanner asked for him to open his hands. He did that. The second scanner hovered over each momentarily, taking a detailed image of his hand and fingerprints. The first scanner asked him to turn his hand over. The captain complied again. The third scanner reached out with a probe. A thin filament appeared. It slipped into and back out of the skin of the captain’s hand, taking a speck of blood with it.

  “You know your crew took my biometrics last time,” the captain said to Lotte.

  “We do this with every arrival now.”

  “Something happen to make Warlord more paranoid than usual?”

  “Nothing of the sort. Records can be misplaced or changed. It’s good to refresh them once in a while.” And then she locked a thin orange bracelet around one of his wrists. “This is an identifier. It’s read throughout Big Town. The governor has given you credit to use at restaurants and places of entertainment. Just have them ping the identity on the bracelet. Please do not remove it during your stay. However, should something happen, and the lock opens, it will alert us. And we’ll come fix it for you.”

  That was a nice way of putting it, Jackson thought.

  The scanner blinked green.

  “Please proceed down to Frans,” she said.

  Frans had taken up a position farther down the corridor. The lights made a reflection on his faceplate that obscured his eyes. The dude was standing so perfectly still Jackson wondered briefly if Frans was a synth but decided against it.

  Shade went next, then it was Jackson’s turn. He tensed just a little as the scanners passed over where Fifi was hiding in his pocket, but the scanners didn’t seem to recognize her or care, and he was given a bracelet and cleared to go stand with Frans. The others went through the same process. Tui was last, and when he finished, he closed the door on the striker and sent a signal to the Tar Heel. The door locked with a loud series of snicks.

  They walked in single file along the corridor toward the main tube that led to the orbital, Lotte in front, the crew in the middle, and Frans and his bot brigade in back. It was pretty tight security, Jackson thought. The bracelet did more than provide their identity, it was probably transmitting video and audio. It seemed Governor Warlord wanted to keep tabs on his visitors. Jackson understood the need for security in orbitals—even a small bomb in the right place could wreak havoc—but he still didn’t like the intrusion. When Jackson retired—should he live that long—it certainly wouldn’t be to an orbital hab.

  At least their escort seemed to relax a bit after they’d passed their scans, because they lifted the face shields on their helmets. Both of them were younger than expected, and also exceedingly pale. That was probably more from living beneath artificial lights than being Dutch.

  The main port tube acted as the trunk of a tree. It was stationary and therefore provided a weightless environment. It was also spacious—wide enough for three or four cargo tows to use at the same time on their way to and from the ships.

  At the mouth of the corridor a cart waited. It was long and narrow, nothing more than eight two-person benches placed one in front of the other. There was a place up front for Lotte. Another at the back for Frans. The rest of them selected a bench and strapped in. And then Lotte gave the word, and the cart flew them down the long tube toward the orbital.

  They passed corridors leading to other landing bays above them, below them, and to the right and left. They passed other bench carts with people going the other way. One in particular was very long, made up of multiple segments, and must have seated at least seventy-five. They passed maintenance crews dressed in yellow. There were large wall displays in the spacious tube delivering news. One report was about a sighting of some huge creature they called Moby Dick down on the surface. Another was abou
t a fire on an outpost in Swindle’s solar system. A third was the announcement of a new park being built somewhere in Big Town.

  They proceeded to the end of the port tube which ended in a huge wall, the other side of which had to be Big Town. Right in the middle of the massive wall was a circular door twenty meters wide. It was closed now, but Jackson suspected it opened straight into the center axis of Big Town. There was a large mechanical ring around the door and placed at equal intervals around it were three wide bays.

  Their bench cart flew into one of the bays and parked. Lotte asked them to engage their shoe magnetics and exit to the left. There were windows here, so Jackson walked over and got his first view of Big Town’s interior, which was spinning like a huge Ferris wheel.

  “Please grab a handhold and brace yourself,” Lotte warned.

  They did. And the ring which held the bays began to move, slowly accelerating to match the spin of Big Town. It took a few slightly nauseating minutes for the ring to accelerate until they were moving at the same rate. From the window, it now appeared that Big Town was stationary, and the port tube was spinning.

  Lotte said, “I suggest using the handrails until you get used to our gravity.” Then a double door slid open. “Please follow me.”

  Jackson followed Lotte out and took in the amazing view. Take a regular city, and then roll it into a tube. The landing they came out on was near the center. Buildings covered the whole interior, running from where they were to the far end, eleven klicks in the distance. They were below, to the sides, and above, their roofs pointing toward the center, because that was basically up. A few of the structures looked to be a few hundred meters high and stuck out past the rest, but most were only three or four stories tall.

  From here they had one heck of a view. Some parts of the city appeared tidy, but most of it was ramshackle chaos. Living pods stacked on living pods, with bridges between them, and pop outs, and crazy alleys. On a street above his head a group of people in white shirts walked along a street. They looked small at this distance. Tiny people walking on the ceiling. To Jackson’s left, three women stood on the roof of a building, drinking something next to a small tree. Both the women and the tree stood almost perpendicular to him.

  “Is that supposed to be your sun?” Katze asked. She was pointing to a cluster of bright globes in the distance, hovering in the center of the tube. They were bright enough that Jackson had to shield his eyes.

  “Yes,” Lotte said. “They move from one end to the other, simulating sunrise and sunset.”

  “Good for the circadians,” Katze said.

  “Indeed. Rhythm is necessary for public health and one of the first things our people added when Big Town was founded.” Lotte pointed. “You can see the governor’s mansion there. That’s our destination.”

  Jackson followed her finger, but the place wasn’t hard to spot. It was more like a palace than a mansion. It had wide grounds and trees and a couple of soaring towers. It was especially notable because there weren’t that many other open areas in the tube. There were trees on roofs here and there, but it appeared most of the plant life in Big Town ran up the sides of the buildings in the form of moss and vines.

  Bushey asked, “Is that an actual beach? Just down from Warlord’s place?”

  “That is our public pool. Four meters at the deepest spot. Warlord wants his people to be happy, reduce stress. There are a limited number of passes given out each day to access it.”

  Bushey held up his orange wrist band. “And this can get me in?”

  “It can,” Lotte said.

  “There will be no time for swimming on this trip,” the captain said.

  “Captain!” Bushey said.

  Their superior shook his head.

  “You’re disappointing a lot of women,” Bushey said.

  “I’m sure they’ll recover.”

  Bushey sighed and gave the beach a wistful glance. “There are some real negatives to living on a spaceship.”

  “If you’ll follow me,” Lotte said, “we’ll take a ride down to the street level. There is a car waiting.”

  They entered a lift and went down. Spin gravity worked in many ways like planetary gravity, but in other ways it didn’t. For example, up on the observation platform the gravity was almost nonexistent. However, as they descended in the lift, the gravity increased until it felt like one G at the bottom. Maybe a little more. That was one of the reasons why the buildings weren’t super tall here. Living in low G took a toll on a body. Still, some of the buildings seemed too tall, and he wondered what living up there would be like. Planetside people paid extra for a penthouse with a view. Here it would probably be miserable.

  They walked out of the lift area into a lobby and through some automatic doors outside. A sort of junction converged on this lift. At street level the buildings looked even more haphazard. There were some structures that were obviously parts of the colony ship but stacked onto them were all manner of construction. There were rooms made of converted shipping containers. Others were habitat modules, probably from the original supplies meant for the surface. Then there were many more built out of every material imaginable, like cinder blocks that were probably a by-product of the asteroid mining, or an odd-looking sort of lumber that must have come from the surface. In every direction Jackson looked, all of the streets running away from this junction had some building or house popping out into the airspace above them.

  Two shiny black cars were waiting for them. They weren’t large vehicles by any means, just carts, made of composites and plastics to keep them superlight and energy efficient. But they were enclosed with tinted windows. On their sides was painted an official-looking flag of green, yellow, and black. On top was a cartop billboard. It was playing a video of a handsome, dark-skinned man in a military uniform smiling and waving, while people threw white roses at his feet. The picture changed to a closeup of the Warlord’s rugged face. Then he brought up his other hand and raised two fingers wide.

  “Rabbit ears?” Katze asked.

  “It’s a V,” the captain said.

  “For victory,” Bushey explained to his associate. “Old Earth thing.”

  “Oh. I thought for sure he was giving us the bunny,” Jackson said. “That’s a really bad insult where I’m from.”

  The doors on the cars opened. Lotte ushered the captain, Shade, and Tui into one. When Tui got in the whole vehicle tilted toward his side. It was the mods. Denser muscles and bones made him weigh a ton. Lotte climbed in behind them, and only slightly corrected the tilt.

  Frans directed Jackson, Katze, and Bushey into the other, and rode with them. When the doors closed, Jackson noticed the slightest hint of a woman’s perfume. He couldn’t tell if it was left over from the previous occupant, or if the car just normally smelled that way. It was kind of nice. Then he realized it was coming from Frans.

  The electric cars pulled out of the junction and into one of the joining lanes. Jackson saw their car had two little flags on the end of the hood to whip in the wind.

  “How far is the mansion?” Bushey asked.

  “Just a few minutes,” Frans snapped.

  “You know that’s a measure of time, not distance, right? How many klicks?”

  “Not far.” Frans wasn’t near as talkative as his partner.

  Bushey glanced over at Jackson with a look that said he’d assessed Frans and determined he was a dick.

  They passed shops and houses, soft music playing over the car’s speakers. They passed people eating. Other people walking. One man was riding an old-fashioned pedal bike. There was a boy with a dog. A woman carrying a sack of oranges, which Jackson figured had to be scarce in these parts. But then he saw a bunch of them growing on the wall of a building and reconsidered.

  Their little convoy rolled through a rough part of town. The houses here were smaller. Shanties all snarled together and stacked high. Outside one shack sat a haggard man wearing a respirator and carrying an oxygen tank. A few doors down, there was a
woman sitting on a porch stoop. Big patches of her hair had fallen out, giving her the appearance of some kind of witch. There was a man up against a wall being busted by two police.

  Then they were out of the poor section and flashing lights caught Jackson’s attention. A hovercar was flying above the buildings to their right. The car looked like it was slowly spiraling, but it was flying straight, and it was the city that rotating around it.

  And then the buildings abruptly ended. Ahead was a tall rail fence and a gate. Jackson noticed a number of cameras, bots, and even a hornets’ nest. Beyond the fence was actual grass and trees. In a place this crowded, it was a pretty ostentatious show. In the middle of the green space rose the palace.

  Guards dressed in blue and orange armor manning the gate waved the two cars through. About thirty seconds later Jackson and the others stopped in front of the entrance. The palace had porticos and arches and pillars. It looked like it was made of marble, but Jackson assumed it was some composite made to look that way, and whatever was underneath had gotten dug out of an asteroid.

  The car doors opened. A voice from some hidden speaker said, “Welcome to the governor’s house.”

  They all got out and looked around. It was an impressive piece of real estate with a nice view of Big Town curling up around it. There were more guards patrolling the grounds, a sniper team on the roof, and Jackson thought he picked up the faint buzz of an aerial drone as they were ushered toward the front walkway. Before they reached it, the doors of the mansion opened, and a few more guards walked out, followed by a man who seemed very familiar, probably because they’d seen his face on a several dozen posters on the short drive here.

  The infamous Warlord had dispensed with the chest full of medals and was dressed in plain olive fatigues and combat boots. He opened his arms wide. “Friends,” he said with a big smile. In person, he was of above average height, with a strong, angular build, as if someone had used oak in his construction. “Welcome, Captain Holloway, Ms. Thomas, and associates. You’ve traveled so far. Please, please, come in.”