This book is dedicated to Eva Whitley and Jack
Chalker, without whom this book would never have
been written.
Special thanks to my wife Rhi, for putting up
with me while writing this, to Laura Gillespie
for proofreading the manuscript. And also to
my father, who would have understood.
1
A nondescript old man, dressed in tattered dirty rags shuffled
aimlessly down the dim alley. In a city of millions hardly anyone passing
him by gave him a second glance, instantly categorizing him as one of the
city's thousands of unemployable homeless men. He turned down a wide
boulevard, seeking out a tall gleaming building and stationed himself
against the wall, near to the main entrance and partially out of the cold
wind. From deep within a pocket of his ratty overcoat he produced a
battered tin cup, the age-old symbol of poverty and settled in to wait
patiently in front of the building.
As he waited, A large black limo pulled up to the curb in front of
the building. A uniformed man stepped out of the ornate front doors and
into the cold mid-morning air to open the back door of the large vehicle.
"Good Morning, sir," he announced crisply as Mr Kurschner climbed out
of the back. Neither man noticed the bright clear blue eyes of the beggar
examining them carefully from his vantage point in front of the building.
After about two hours the old beggar moved on after collecting more
than he had hoped to. A rather productive morning, all in all. With
twenty-seven credits jingling in his pockets he found his way through back
alleys piled high with rotting garbage. The city kept the main streets
clean but sent none of its sanibots back here. If they managed to survive
the rats, the human scavengers would get them. There was, after all a
thriving market for cybernetic components. He finally arrived at his
destination, an old diner that was located on a once chic street, but both
the diner and the street had fallen onto hard times. Life and the city had
passed them both by and they were now home to only the poorest population.
"Afternoon, Jake," said the owner, an older man in a pair of filthy,
once white pants and shirt that may have been called a uniform a long time
ago. Potbellied, with thin greasy gray hair and a scraggly beard that
completed the unsavory look. "Pickin's good today?," he asked after Jake
had entered and swung the door closed behind him.
Jake nodded a yes and walked back to the back corner of the diner, to
the far end of a long counter top and out of direct contact with the cold
wind whistling in under the door. "Coffee 'n' grits, he mumbled over
toothless gums. "Cold," he added simply.
"Money?," asked the proprietor who knew these men far too well to
serve them before seeing their money first.
Jake reached deep into a pocket and produced a one credit coin,
placed it carefully on the counter and jingled the rest in his pocket to
assure the owner of more.
The owner said nothing but turned to draw coffee and hot water for
the grits. "Haven't seen you in a while," he said, sliding the coffee over
to Jake.
"Nah," he mumbled. "Been away."
The owner knew that away most likely meant a stay in one of the
city's public hospitals. The government could keep a man healthy but could
not keep him employed or properly fed. Often times the only thing wrong
with the homeless was acute malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies.
He shook his head sadly as he passed the grits over in front of Jake,
knowing that the problems were worsening and there seemed to be nothing
anyone could or would do about them.
Scarcities were showing up everywhere on things that had always been
available. Yes, many of the manufactured high tech goods were nearly
impossible to find but that was expected. After all, it had always been
like that. But necessities? He had had to go to four places before he had
found tissue paper. And when he had finally found a shop that had a
supply, they had allowed him to purchase only one roll. What was the
economy coming to?
But at least business was good, if you didn't mind catering to the
homeless. There were enough of them to assure a steady stream of paying
customers. True they seldom spent much but the totals quickly added up.
But what good was money if there was nothing left to spend it on? Or that
what was available was junk? "What the hell do I know," he thought to
himself. "I'm just a dumb cook."
The proprietor said nothing as Jake finished his coffee and grits. He
left no tip and he walked slowly toward the door and the outside cold. He
mumbled a goodbye as he disappeared out the door and into the dim street.
About two blocks away was an old hotel that had been converted into a
flop-house for those who had the price of a bed for the night. Here, the
man in the cage by the front door knew him as well. "How are you doing
today Jake?," he asked. "Are you Ok?"
Jake nodded yes, but otherwise said nothing. He turned toward a
hallway, careful to keep from tangling his feet in the tatters on the
floor that used to be a rug.
The proprietor knew him simply as Jake. He had come into his life
nearly two years earlier when he had given the manager enough credit for
five years rent on the tiny room he called home. He had not explained it,
but the proprietor imagined it was the last of his savings after losing
his job and was insuring that he always had a place to sleep.
Once inside the tiny room, Jake visibly shed ten years as he stood
erect and shook the gray hair out of his eyes. He reached into an inside
pocket and removed a very well-made dental bridge and slipped it into his
mouth. He then looked around his "room" checking if anyone had entered
while he had been gone. The room was actually the old elevator car that
had stopped moving years before. On the side of the wall was the old
control panel. Jake stepped over to it and pressed the buttons marked one
and seven together, simultaneously saying "Abe Fortas" into a small,
barely visible microphone set in the old panel. Under his feet he felt a
slight vibration as a large hydraulic cylinder lowered the old car down to
the old parking garage that was located under the building. When the outer
door opened he was confronted by two uniformed and armed guards. One held
an instrument connected to a terminal inset in the wall near to the
elevator.
"Please identify yourself, sir," one said.
Speaking directly into the instrument, he repeated his name and a
green light flashed on the instrument.
"Voice print Identity confirmed, sir," he said. "Sorry for the delay."
Abe smiled to himself. Every agent who returned during a mission had
to go through the same procedure but the guards were always polite.
"The briefing meeting is not until 2:30, sir," the second officer
said. "If you wish to clean up beforehand, you have time.
"No, thank you," Abe said with a twinkle in his eye. "If they don't
like me like this then it's just too damned bad. Besides it would take too
long to get back into character when I leave." He quickly made his way to
the cafeteria and ordered himself a decent hot meal. He often regretted
the necessities of the job but knew that this was the only way that the
job could be done and done properly. He quickly washed the taste of cheap
grits out of his mouth and settled down to enjoy a good meal before his
meeting.
The conference room held a large oval table capable of seating at
least thirty people, although Abe had never seen it used by more than
three or four persons at once. He arrived a little late, on purpose, to
give those waiting for him the feel that he, and not they controlled the
meeting.
Inside he found his briefing officer and the Director of this branch
of the Agency. He sat in one of the comfortably ornate chairs, unconcerned
that the chair would probably have to be completely cleaned after he left.
"What have you discovered so far?," the Director asked, coming
directly to the point.
"I have visually identified him," answered Abe. "Are you sure that he
is the one we want?"
"Positive. He came up high on our list of suspects and we assigned a
satcam to watch his actions," he assured Abe. "We have positive
photographic evidence of him committing three murders in the last two
weeks.
"Damn," said Abe. "I was hoping that you were wrong. He seems to be
an exemplary citizen."
"One would think so, wouldn't you?," agreed the briefing officer. "We
have however uncovered evidence of tampering by him on the gold market,
causing the price to fluctuate. He then takes advantage of the
fluctuations to buy all of the available gold he can. In the last year
alone it is estimated that he made a billion credits."
"He is, of course," continued the Director, "speculating with his
bank's money but he has managed to skim off an impressive amount
nonetheless. And this is but one sphere of influence. There are
indications of many other schemes in operation."
"Do you want me to take him out permanently, or just ice him?" asked
Abe in a subdued voice. This was the part of the job that he least liked.
"Ice him," came the quick response from the Director. "The government
wants to make an example of him but they lack the hard evidence."
"And a satcam is not admissible in court," chimed in the briefing
officer. "Violation of privacy and all that," he said.
"So what next?," Asked Abe.
"It's up to you to manufacture the necessary evidence. We can deliver
an itinerary of places he goes to when he will have no alibi," said the
Director. "And the rest is up to you."
"You will be contacted via your implant as to when the operation is a
go. Do not move until you here from us to insure he has no alibi."
"I understand," said Abe. "Do you have a victim in mind yet?"
"No," admitted the briefing officer sadly. "We thought that since you
know the homeless better than we do, you would be in a better position to
pick one."
"Damn," thought Abe. "They're going to pile all the shit on me, this
time."
"Question," he said tersely.
"Go ahead," said the Director.
"Will the victim's family be able to collect from his estate?," Abe
asked simply.
"Once we have him in custody," said the briefing officer, "and have
direct evidence that will stand up in court, we will be able to get
everything from him about the other crimes. The agency has already agreed
to sue for full victim compensation, as the law allows."
"You still haven't answered my question," said Abe bluntly. "Yes,"
agreed the Director. "Once he is proven guilty of one crime, then he has
automatically forfeited his rights of privacy. We can use any and all
means to remove whatever information we need from him."
Abe knew that they primarily meant the various forms of chemical
persuasion. It had been proven long ago that physical torture was
meaningless and today they had many other techniques that worked including
hypnosis and drug treatments.
"The man is a psychopath," blurted the briefing officer. "And he
enjoys killing. We must use whatever means we have to to get him off of
the streets."
"No," disagreed the Director. "He is far too smart to be
psychopathic. He is driven by other reasons. And it is his very
intelligence that forces us to fabricate evidence to nail him." He stopped
to examine both Abe and the briefing officer before continuing. "We would
have caught a psychopath by now!" he finally stated.
"And that," thought Abe, "Is the crux of the problem. The man was
credited with thirty or forty murders so far, although the total number
would not be known until he was in custody. Most of the homeless that
turned up dead were simply cremated. It was not until a pattern started to
emerge that autopsies were performed on all of the homeless that were
found dead."
The authorities had been amazed at how many had died of unnatural
causes once they began looking into the deaths. At first they thought that
they were dealing with more than one killer but soon concluded that they
should be looking for one man.
The one lone survivor to date had been nearly no help at all. He
could remember only that the man was reasonably tall, had been dressed in
black clothing, and that he had been wearing a security screen. The
screen, formed by a powerful generator mounted in a skullcap helmet kept
the police from obtaining a positive retina print, which would have
assured a positive identification that would have stood up in court.
"You will drop the 'Jake' persona for now," cut in the briefing
officer, "and then switch to Jonathan Burke. You will use this persona
during the nightstalking operation. When you get cleaned up you will
please report to the lab where you will receive your equipment," he
continued. "You will be issued a screen generator similar to the one used
by Kurschner, contacts with his retina prints on them, a complete set of
black clothing and suitable ID cards, all in the name of Kurschner. As
usual, all of the ID's are good enough to stand a comp scan, even to the
point of accessing his funds. You will use the card after the onset of the
operation but no more than thirty minutes later or more than five
kilometers away from the operative point.
"All standard," thought Abe. "I could have predicted the details of
this operation as soon as I knew what they had in mind." He heaved a
mental sigh of relief. At least it will be fast and then done. With luck
it won't be too dirty, and I may not need a memory dump afterwards."
He returned his attention to the briefing just as the officer asked
if he had any questions.
"Just one," he announced, surprising both of them. He had earned a
reputation over the years of never asking for or needing additional
information. "When all of this shit is over, I am putting in for a
vacation. Any objections?" He didn't wait for either of them to object but
quickly continued. "Good, I thought not. Is that all there is gentlemen?"
He did not wait for a dismissal but stood and left the large conference
room. One more of his weapons in making them think he was in control and
not them. He had developed many psychological games he played with them
over the years. It helped keep him sane, but he was not sure what they got
out of it. Probably nothing but aggravation.
He had no trouble finding his way to the lab, having worked here so
long he probably knew the layout better than the people who actually
worked inside and not out on the streets like he did. Once there he picked
up his equipment, noticing a pair of perfectly balanced throwing knives.
"Shit," he thought. "It's gonna be dirtier than I thought."
He reached for the pair, Wishing he had listened better at the
briefing concerning the operations weapons when he was stopped by an
exclamation from one of the technicians.
"Hold it," the voice ordered.
Abe turned to face the man. "Do you know who I am?," he asked
bruskly.
"Sure," came the quick reply. "But I thought I should warn you that
there is a very quick-acting poison on the blades of those knives. If you
touch them and then pass the poison to your mouth, you are a dead man. But
other than that, help yourself."
Abe apologized to the young man and backed away from the table.
"Look," he said. "I am not usually this short with people. But today might
turn to be a bad day and I guess I am taking it out on the wrong person."
"I understand," came the cheerful reply. "I have no idea what this is
all about and I do not want to know, but I do have to show you everything
here," he explained. He reached over and picked up one of the knives.
"These are not that hard to handle, I just wanted you to know so you would
take the proper precautions." He handed Abe the knife, allowing him to
examine it closer. He then looked over the assortment of equipment on the
table and first picked up the security screen. "This is an exact copy of
the one that the suspect owns, with one main difference. If a laser hits
it, the screen will fail, allowing the camera to photograph your retina
pattern." He handed the screen to Abe.
One question. These things are supposed to be perfect. Won't it's
failure be suspect?," he asked.
Suspect yes, but it is not an impossible failure. There have been two
cases of this particular model breaking down exactly as this one will.
Unusual but not unheard of." He turned back to the table and picked up a
small foam case. "Contacts with his retina prints embossed on them." They
disappeared into a side pocket before the young man continued. Next came a
standard ID card.
"This card will access his personal accounts. You are to use it
within five kilometers of the scene and within thirty minutes of the
successful completion of the operation. I recommend that you buy a new
security screen, since the one that you have is going to fail." He then
passed Abe a set of black clothing. "The type that he always wears while
hunting," came the short explanation. "The last thing that I have to do is
test your com implant." He walked over to a comstation and entered a code
on the keyboard. Abe heard the familiar metallic voice in his head,
directly behind his left ear.
"It's working ok, " he announced to the satisfaction of the
technician.
"Then that is all that I have for you," he said. "Good Luck, sir," he
added sincerely."
"Thanks, I'll probably need it," he said to the young man before
stepping back out into the corridor.
He turned towards his in-house quarters and the fresher that was
there waiting for him, and he was looking forward to getting cleaned up,
since the Jake personna really bothered him. On his way there he passed
the briefing officer.
"Just so that you know sir," he said as he passed. "The real Jake has
been returned to his room," he reported.
Abe said nothing as they passed but nodded in reply. That was one
thing less he had to worry about. Although he did not like the role he had
to admit that the old indigent was a very useful disguise.
Once back at his quarters Abe stripped off the dirty rags and placed
them in a plastic bag to be laundered, deloused and resoiled for the next
time he needed them. He then stepped into the fresher for a long leisurely
hot shower. "The longer you go without bathing," he thought, "the more
that you appreciate it when you finally get the chance."
Later that evening, he returned to the cafeteria to eat a leisurely
meal, not knowing when he might get another chance to do so. He then
returned to his rooms where he dressed himself and distributed his
equipment about his person. The two knives attached under his left arm in
a dual sheath that facilitated ease of draw. The half helmet that the
security shield was built into went atop his head. "An expensive toy,"
thought Abe. Powerful fields acted to distort the laser light used by the
high-intensity security cameras designed to photograph retina prints. They
were not very big but they really didn't need to be since only a slight
distortion rendered the photographs useless. He popped his contacts in and
then slipped the ID's into his wallet after emptying it of all other ID.
The night lay undisturbed beneath a darkening moon as dark figures
slipped into position through the carefully landscaped estates surrounding
Dr. Quade's home. A limousine drifted silently to a stop at the foot of
the long tree-lined driveway. The two officers sat in the back seat and
watched the operation unfold with silent satisfaction.
The junior of the two, Lieutenant Hadley briefly checked a miniature
wrist video display before reporting. "Sir, all men have reported in and
are in position."
The senior officer nodded a quick acknowledgement before entering his
access code on his own wrist terminal. "Major Caine here control," he said
tersely.
"Standing by, sir" came the quick answer.
"We are now ready to penetrate the house defenses. Have you
reestablished contact with Dr. Quade's security comp?"
"Yes sir. The comp will allow you access, though we may not be able
to maintain control. We recommend comp disconnection at your earliest
convenience."
"Recommendations noted control. I will keep you informed as the
situation changes." Major Caine terminated the comlink and turned to
Lieutenant Hadley. "You may now send in the penetration team. Make comp
disconnect your number one priority."
The Lieutenant spoke briefly into his own wrist comp and outside,
barely visible from the foot of the driveway, three dark figures detached
themselves from the shadows in front of the house. They quickly crossed
the wide porch, slowed slightly at the front door and entered the house.
Dark panelling set off the muted hues of the oriental rug on the
floor of the foyer. Exquisite Japanese statuary, set into niches in the
back wall disappeared upward in the curve of the stairwell. Two of the men
took up positions in the foyer while the third slipped quietly into the
interior of the house. He headed unerringly for the main library and the
house comp, making good use of the hours of briefings and study of the
house plans.
Expert fingers danced over the keyboard, shutting the sophisticated
machine down. Outside in the limo, Major Caine's wrist comp made one low
bleat before he acknowledged the call.
"Go ahead control," he said.
"Problem, sir," said the unseen voice. "Dr. Quade's comp had a
disconnect alarm on it and a call has gone out to the local police
precinct station. A heavy cruiser has been diverted to your location."
"Thank you, control. We will handle it here."
"Yes sir. Control out.
Major Caine shook his head sadly as he removed a thin sheaf of papers
from his briefcase. He stepped out of the limo with a brief word to
Lieutenant Hadley. "Keep the team in the foyer, I will be back shortly."
Lieutenant Hadley resisted the urge to scratch a nervous itch on the
back of his neck as he peered out through the windshield of the limo,
wishing for the return of Major Caine. He let his eyes dart to the side
every now and then, checking on Dr. Quade's house, but always returning
his attention back to the dark street. "Everything could still go wrong"
he thought. They had prepared for a hundred different scenarios but when
dealing with a man as brilliant as Dr. Quade, there could be dozens of
unforseen possibilities.
And who would have thought that Dr. Quade's security comp could
resist Internal Security's comp for three days? Their machine, one of the
most sophisticated systems in existence should have been able to override
any home security system in a matter of microseconds. Yet they had not
been able to get an override signal in.
They finally did get in but by a rather circuitous route. They had
managed to get the comp to accept the three names and retina prints of
their men and then convinced it that they should be admitted it the house
as staff members. It would be a pity if the main program had been erased
when the comp had been shut down. That small machine could do things that
no home comp should be able to do.
Major Caine left the darkened limousine behind him as he walked
quickly down the street. He did not want the big cruiser disturbing the
quiet by Dr. Quade's house or attract the attention of his neighbors. He
didn't have a long wait before he heard the whine of the turbines and saw
the cluster lights of the heavy cruiser. Caine stepped out into the
street, a streetlight throwing wnough light so that he would be easily
seen by the cruiser.
As the massive machine slowed to a stop, he did not fail to notice
that the forward weapons turret maintained a steady aim on him. From
experience he knew that the turret contained not only sophisticated
weaponry but one of the cruisers audio and video packages as well. There
were no apparent windows but Major Caine knew that three officers normally
operated the machine, although in an emergency it could be fully operated
by two. It sat solidly on six tires, the rear four were independently
powered by gas-turbine engines. It was also capable of short hops on
surface effect by firing directable jump jets. All in all it was a very
powerful machine.
A speaker crackled to life on top of the cruiser. "Please state your
business," a voice said curtly.
"Officer, we initiated comp shutdown in Dr. Quade's house," Major
Caine explained. "I believe that these papers will answer all of your
questions." He reached into his jacket pocket and removed the small sheaf
of papers and stepped closer to the machine. A small port irised open,
revealing a small box inset into the side of the machine.
"Place the papers in the entry port and step back," the unseen voice
continued. Major Caine complied with the request, watching silently as the
port irised shut.
Inside the machine the officer removed the papers, quickly scanning
them. They were the arrest and search warrants for Dr. Quade. All of the
authenticating seals and signatures were in order, including the one
telling him that it was an Internal Security operation. He quickly
photocopied the papers and squirted a fax to his headquarters before
returning them to Major Caine.
"All in order sir, sorry for the delay." There was a touch of respect
in the unseen voice now that the officer knew who he was dealing with.
Major Caine retrieved the papers before retreating to the sidewalk as
the cruiser, turbines whining softly, accelerated into the night. He
smiled when he saw that the rear turret continued to track him as the
cruiser left.
Lieutenant Hadley's thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of
his superior. He mentally heaved a sigh of relief before stepping out of
the limo to meet him on the sidewalk. Together they walked up the long
driveway, crossed the wide porch and entered the house. Major Caine eyed
the artwork appreciably as they climbed the stairs to the second floor,
followed closely by the penetration team.
A cross corridor lay at the top of the stairs with rooms opening onto
it. Another set of stairs rose upward to the third floor. Richly framed
paintings were hung in the hall, a few of which Major Caine recognized as
expensive Old Masters. They left the second floor landing and went
directly to the room that Dr Quade used as his bedroom.
Against one wall sat a large desk, piled high with papers and a
remote comp terminal. Another wall was taken up by a large bookshelf
filled with research and reference books along with engineering, physics
and chemistry texts. In the far corner stood a large bed containing the
sleeping Dr. Quade.
"Wake him," ordered the major.
Dr. Quade was rudely shaken awake and allowed to briefly collect his
wits before Major Caine spoke. "Dr. Quade, I am with Internal Security.
You are under arrest for treason, sedition and sabotage."
They watched him carefully as he dressed, one of the team checked
each article of clothing before he was allowed to put it on. They then
escorted him out of the house, reactivating the security comp before
securing the door.
Dr. Quade was led to an unmarked van and placed in the back for the
short ride to the security offices. "Lieutenant," said Major Caine, as
they watched the van pull away. "I want you to get the copies of the tapes
that the police made tonight. Have them on my desk as soon as you locate
them. You may now dismiss your men," he continued. "And tell them all
'very good'."
Lieutenant Hadley watched Major Caine return to his limo before
sending the dismissal signal. "It isn't often that Major Caine gave
compliments," he thought, smiling to himself as the black limo sped off
behind him into the darkness.
2
The big shuttle soon landed on the Australian runway, the aircraft
taking about two thirds of the miles long ribbon to come to a complete
stop. When at last the shuttle arrived at the terminal Joe had no trouble
clearing security as his ID pack was in order, having all of the proper
counterstamps affixed back at Armstrong station. After clearing Customs he
again found a wall comp and inserted his ID card, checking the rest of his
itinerary. A stratohop leaving tomorrow would take him into Singapore for
the first leg of his vacation.
Until the hop left the next day he was booked into the old Imperial
Hotel in Broome. One of the few structures predating the huge airbase, it
could trace it's roots back over one hundred years. When the runways were
built the old hotel had been renovated and automated up to the modern
standards of a luxury hotel and only recently it had received it's fifth
star for both the restaurant and hotel.
The front of the building was made of a red sandstone that was carved
into columns and bas-relief panels. Real stonework that lent itself to the
aged decadence of a bygone era. The original hotel had been greatly
expanded during the renovation and the designers had skillfully melded the
old and new together until the old stone seemed to merge and subtly blend
into the plascrete and steel of the newer structure.
Inside the doors Joe walked across a lobby floor that was a polished
marble mosaic, surrounded by walls of a dark, tightly striated paneling.
The ceiling rose twenty five feet above the floor from which were hung
huge chandeliers. The registration desk was a single huge piece of
beautifully carved marble set between two of the sixteen massive columns
that seemed large enough to support the weight of the entire structure.
Joe had set this trip up months ago and had seen to it that he had
one of the larger suites in the old structure. Although it had not been
fully automated like the newer structure he preferred the charm of the old
rooms even though they lacked some of the more modern features.
For one, he was limited to what room service could deliver instead of
the full services of the gourmet kitchen. Although all food came from the
same kitchen, there were many fine creations that had to be eaten within a
few minutes to retain the subtle flavor distinctions or the fragile
construction of the dish. As a result, more than half of the creations
that the restaurant was famed for could not be brought up by room service
but had to be delivered by the fast delivery system incorporated in the
newer part of the hotel.
Joe however did not mind. After two years in space living on
processed algae paste, anything real would taste good. And he had never
been a true connoisseur of fine food. Besides, he would be leaving in the
morning for Singapore where he planned on trying the best of the best. He
could finally afford to do so and he was planning on taking full advantage
of the opportunity.
After being escorted to his suite he called up the hotel's buying
service on the vid and soon had new clothing, luggage and the other
necessary sundries to make the vacation more pleasant.
The first thing that Joe noticed was that styles had drastically
changed in the two years he had been gone. One of his new formal outfits
consisted of a pair of durable but stylish calf-length boots, a mid-thigh
length skirt and a flowing cape that covered his shoulders and back. There
was no shirt but he did have a wide-brimmed hat that matched the boots. A
light cotton undergarment under the skirt completed the set.
Although he felt foolish, he had to admit that it was extremely
comfortable in the heat of northern Australian sun. He found his way into
the plush bar noticing that the other guests of the hotel were dressed in
similar outfits. The only real differences were color, cut and length. But
it did seem that this season skirts were in for both sexes. Casual styles
however were borrowed from all cultures and were left up to the individual
for preferences.
"May I sit down?" a voice asked. Joe had ordered a drink at the bar
and accessed a televisor built into the top of his table. He had tuned it
into one of the international news stations to reacquaint himself with
local happenings while he had been gone. Armstrong boasted of a complete
up-to-date news service but Joe, like the other pilots had found little
spare time to stay up with the happenings on Earth. He drew his attention
away from the screen and looked up to see a stunning young woman standing
next to his table. She was a small girl, black hair and a light, almost
elfin facial structure which seemed to be a blend of European and
Oriental. She spoke a clear, formal English with only a slight overture of
an accent.
"I saw you register," she said. "You were wearing an Armstrong
coverall. Do you work up there?"
"Yes," said Joe, jumping quickly to his feet to offer her a chair. "I
am an orbital pilot."
"Have you been gone long?" she asked with a coy smile, her eyes
widening with respect.
"Over two years," Joe said, unable to draw his eyes away from her.
"Do you live here in Broome?" She had gotten the best of Joe's curiosity
and he almost expected her to turn out to be a play-for-pay girl after the
way that she had introduced herself.
"Me?" She said quickly, her cheeks reddening slightly when she
realized the meaning of Joe's question. "No, I flew in from Singapore to
pick up a delivery that came down on the shuttle. Pharmaceutical products
from one of the orbital synthesis plants."
"Then you are a doctor?"
"No," she said. "But I am connected to one of the larger research
hospitals on the Malaysian peninsula"
"That's where I am going in the morning. To Singapore that is. On the
first stratohop of the day."
"That's the hop I am on," she said excitedly. "We will be fellow
travelers, it seems!" She stopped speaking to order from the autobar.
"If she has had a few of those," thought Joe, "she lost all of her
inhibitions long ago." "Have you eaten yet?" he asked aloud.
"No, not since lunch," she replied with a giggle. Buy a girl dinner?"
"Sure, let's go, he said, rising to his feet and offering her his
arm. He wondered about the effects of the alcohol acting on her empty
stomach and privately thought that this night might turn out to be more
interesting than he had earlier hoped.
A discordant alarm chimed for attention at a disgustingly early hour.
"God, what the hell is that?" asked Amiru groggily.
"Alarm," answered Joe. "It's six A. M. and the hop leaves in three
hours," Joe finished, his voice sounding stronger than he felt. "You want
to shower first?"
"Ok, maybe it will help my headache," she said, swinging her legs
over to sit on the edge of the bed. "God, that's not all that hurts, you
animal. Aren't there any women on the Armstrong?"
"Yes," he said with a smile, "But none like you."
She looked at him amusingly. "Flattery will get you nowhere. At least
not till I recover from last night," she said with a smile. Joe watched
her walk sinuously across to the shower cubicle. He lay back down on the
big bed, trying to catch a few more minutes of rest.
Before long they were both dressed and on their way down to
breakfast. They both opted for a simple but satisfying meal and then
caught a cab back to the big shuttleport. The port did double duty as an
airport and shuttle base, the atmospheric fliers using the same long
runways that the shuttles did.
The stratojet dropped down toward the Malaysian island that was
covered by the city of Singapore. Joe and Amiru sat side by side in the
first class section. The older gentleman that had originally occupied the
seat next to Joe had not minded swapping seats with Amiru and she had kept
Joe talking about his experiences in space. As a result Joe had found out
very little about her as she had skillfully kept him talking during the
entire trip.
"I'll be staying at the New Raffles," said Joe, once the jet had
landed. Where can I find you?" He asked, allowing her a graceful exit if
she desired one.
"I really don't have to be back for a few days yet. Would you like a
little company?" She asked with a sexy pout, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Recovered from last night?" asked Joe with a nod and a grin. "Yes,
I'd love for you to stay. You won't get into trouble, will you?"
"Oh no. But I will have to make a call from the Raffles. Besides, I
can show you around our city if you like."
"It's a deal then. But first let's get over to the New Raffles." They
found a row of taxis waiting just outside the large set of glass and
chrome steel doors. Their luggage was loaded into the first cab and they
were soon out of the stratoport's vehicle bay and on their way to the
hotel. They passed through the city, down straight boulevards flanked by
tall, immaculately clean and gleaming buildings and over to the far side
of the island where the New Raffles lay.
The hotel was itself not an imposing structure nor was it
particularly large. It was a wide three floor white stone building showing
a lot of glass. It's grounds were tastefully planted with large palm trees
and a myriad of other smaller colorful tropical plants. Walkways wound
through the gardens and benches were set back off the path in the shade of
the tall palms.
The New Raffles could trace its roots back to the beginnings of
Singapore. Although the original hotel was built many years after the
founding of the city it prided itself on its fine British traditions. The
original Raffles had become 'THE' hotel to stay at while in Singapore. In
2011 a tsunami, generated by an undersea volcanic explosion swept ashore
all along the Malaysian coastline causing billions of credits of damage
and unnumbered thousands of lost lives. The city of Singapore had been all
but destroyed.
The owners of the Raffles had elected to rebuild on the same site and
to recreate the old hotel as exactly as possible. They had also acquired
some of the surrounding real estate and they used it to create their famed
gardens. Today the shaded walkways and gardens were nearly as famous as
the hotel.
The old Apollo hotel had never been rebuilt but later a much larger
and more modern structure had finally been built on the site. The famed
esplanade had been rebuilt but it too had been redesigned. Singapore had
always prided itself on being the cleanest city in the world and had
looked on the tsunami as instant urban renewal. The city that emerged from
the aftermath of the tsunami had become the sparkling jewel of the Orients
eye.
Once at the New Raffles the pair were met by uniformed men and
escorted into the hotel. The uniforms recalled a bygone day of British
imperial splendor. British colonialism had all but died in the
mid-twentieth century but here the rich colonial traditions were carried
out as if Britain still ruled the island and the world. A bellboy, wearing
the livery of a footman of the house of Queen Victoria led them to one of
the largest suites in the hotel. Out through their wide windows they had a
beautiful view of the carefully manicured lawns and gardens of the hotel.
The room itself was stunning. The sitting room was decorated with
reproduction Victorian furniture. A small chandelier was set over a sunken
lounge in the center of the room. A well stocked bar lay against a wall. A
door set near the bar led into the bedroom where the decorators had
continued the Victorian motif and included a huge four poster bed. Another
door opened into a large bathroom-dressing room and the whirlpool bath
they found there looked big enough for any six adults. Another door
brought them full circle back into the main room.
"What do you think?" asked Joe finally, once the grand tour was
completed.
"It's nice, but I want to try out the bath." She didn't wait for an
answer but immediately began to remove her clothing. It quickly turned
into a sexy striptease that ended when the couple were neck deep in hot
soapy water.
About an hour later they ordered up dinner from room service and soon
were enjoying a quiet, intimate dinner. "Have you ever made love in a bath
tub before?" Amiru asked coyly between mouthfulls.
"Uh, no," said Joe with a blush. "That was the first time."
Amiru smiled demurely before continuing. "Looks like I have a lot to
teach you then. Your technique is fine but you really need to become a
little more adventuresome."
Joe's blush increased as he sputtered over his half-sipped glass of
champagne, nearly spraying her with the sweet liquor. "Are all women as
forward as you are?" He asked her once he had regained some of his
composure.
"No, not all. But it's getting to be more and more commonplace. And
just what's wrong with it anyway?" She said passionately. "Women enjoy sex
too you know. Why shouldn't a woman take the first steps if she wants to?"
"Well, I guess it's okay. In fact it's nice, but I was raised in a
strict religious household and it will take a little getting used to. But
please don't stop," Joe said quickly. "Ill get used to it, I promise."
"I'm sure that you will," she said in a low, husky voice.
"You're going to be the death of me yet, woman. Get dressed please, I
would still like to see some of the sights of Singapore before it gets too
late, if you don't mind."
"What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"How about a dance club? Besides, if we stay here you are likely to
rape me again."
"Rape?" Amiru said with a squeal. "Rape? HA! Rape implies force and
the last thing that I need to do is force you. She stood, sensuously
writhing as she did so, allowing the towel she was wearing to slip to the
floor. "This is all the force I need," she said softly.
Joe threw a celery stick at her and chased her into the bedroom,
watching from the bed in appreciation as she dressed for the evening. Once
downstairs they found a taxi and soon were on their way, Amiru giving
directions in what sounded like Chinese.
Singapore boasts of a number of very fine nightclubs and dance clubs,
a few of which actually had live bands. The age of computerization had hit
the music industry harder than most. Today a single man with a synthecomp
could sound as good, if not better than the great symphony orchestras of
the last century. True afficionados claimed to be able to tell the
difference and there were still a few large groups left but they were
maintained mostly as cultural exhibits of an era long past.
Joe directed Amiru to pick one with a synthecomp because he preferred
the full spectrum of music to the limited repertoire of a live band. The
club that Amiru chose was located in the top floors of the Zeus, the new
hotel that had been built on the old Apollo site. The club itself was
perched on top of the hotel, a huge round structure that slowly revolved,
allowing a full panoramic view of the beautiful city at night.
The interior of the club was a dazzling array of stainless steel and
transparent plas. The bottom floor of the club was solid, with the
synthecomp in the center, surrounded by the dance floor. Around that ran a
single row of booths backed up against the outer plas wall. The second
floor was actually a circular balcony with two rows of booths. The inside
row overlooked the dance floor while the outer was, like the lower tier,
backed up against the outer wall. The roof was a single solid sheet of
plas that afforded a breathtaking view of the night sky. They were
escorted to an inner booth on the balcony, overlooking the dance floor.
"Do you see that couple over there?" asked Amiru, indicating a well
dressed couple seated at a table fronting the dance floor. Joe and Amiru
were out on the dance floor enjoying a slow waltz that had brought them
out toward the row of booths.
"Yes," said Joe. "Do you know them?"
"Well, sort of," she replied. "They are Merilka and Fredoro. He's the
finance minister of the city."
"Is she his wife?" Joe asked.
"No. He's not married and she is just a good friend," Amiru
continued. "Although I am sure that she would just love to catch him with
a ring. But then so would about two dozen other women that I know of. He
is considered the city's most eligible bachelor and has no immediate plans
to change that status," she said with a grin.
"I see," said Joe in a low, conspiratorial voice. "Who else do you
know here?" he continued.
"Not many, personally. Oh, most of the regular crowd here I know by
sight or by reputation but I don't try to cultivate many friends from
among these people."
"Why?" asked Joe. "Do you feel that you don't fit in?"
"Something like that," she said. "Here in Singapore there is a
definite line drawn between the rich and the poor. The well-off try to
copy the life style of the truly rich but they are never really accepted
into the upper-class structure," she continued. "It soon becomes a lot of
meaningless posturing, if you know what I mean."
"I see," said Joe. "Then what you are saying is that you were born on
the wrong side of the line?"
"Yes," she said in an enigmatic voice that Joe could not read. "They
all know me and know exactly the differences between us. If you cannot
truly be one of the upper class it makes trying to do so seem so futile."
Joe sensed he was close to forbidden territory but chose to continue
anyway. "But it can't be a rigid structure, can it? Is there no way for
someone to join the upper class?"
"Oh yes," she answered quickly. "You could marry into wealth or you
can earn your own fortune. Most of the middle class are not accepted
simply because they cannot truly maintain the lifestyle of the rich. They
put on a good show but it's only the facade, not the whole production."
"All the glitter but none of the gold?" Joe asked.
"Yes, exactly, she answered tersely, putting a stop to the
conversation. Let's get out of here, this place is beginning to depress
me. She stood, allowing Joe to escort her over to the exit. "I'm getting
hungry," she announced. "I know of a place that is cheap, the atmosphere
is great and the food is the best I've ever had. Interested?"
"Sure," said Joe, interested more in getting her back into a happier
frame of mind than eating. "Where?"
"Trust me," she said with a smile. "You'll love it." She then rattled
off a string of sentences to the driver and the taxi sped off into the
night.
With a squeal of brakes the taxi pulled up to a stone quay near the
mouth of the river. Here in a bend lay a small fleet of junks and sampans.
Amiru approached a group of women and spoke briefly to them and soon she
and one of the women returned to where Joe was waiting.
"Okay," she said, "It's all set. Let's go."
"Go?" Joe asked, looking around in confusion. "Go where?"
"Follow her to the sampan, that's where," she said with a smile and a
giggle. "Come on lover, be brave. I promise that you won't regret it."
Together they followed the Malaysian woman to a moderately sized
sampan, about twenty-five feet in length, and they all climbed in. "Where
to now?" asked Joe. "I thought we were going to a restaurant."
"No restaurant," she answered, "Unless you consider Typhoon Anchorage
a restaurant."
Joe looked around the boat. The older woman was seated in the back
where she was sculling with a single long oar. The sampan was heading out
to sea and away from the mainland. In the front of the sampan he was a
small stove and a large bag of what seemed to be charcoal. A few baskets
were there also and they contained a mismatched set of plates, cups and
silverware. Another basket contained an extensive collection of spices,
herbs and vegetables.
Amiru watched Joe as he examined the small boat. When she saw the
light of enlightenment in his eyes she explained. "She is taking us out to
meet the fishing fleet. There she will prepare whatever we select for us."
Ahead Joe could see a collection of sampans and, farther away, the
first of the returning fishing fleet. Big Chinese junks, the lines of
which had not changed in thousands of years. Amiru and the woman exchanged
a few more comments before she turned back to Joe. "I told her to use her
own judgement with the fishermen. She knows them far better than we do and
she's likely to get a better selection that way."
Joe nodded in agreement then returned his attention to the other
small boats. They also were preparing for the arrival of the fleet. Near
at hand he saw makeshift buoys in the water and noticed that the sampans
were using these as their mooring points. The woman raised a small pole
with a red banner attached to it and slid it into a holder at the stern of
the sampan.
"That tells the Captains that we are ready to negotiate," Amiru
explained.
The big junks paraded by the motley collection of small boats, the
woman using her oar deftly while shouting up to the boats captains.
Finally she came to an agreement with one and a crewman threw her a line,
allowing the sampan to remain alongside without the junk stopping while
the transaction took place.
"What currency do you carry?" Amiru asked Joe finally.
"Standard credits, Malaysian dollars and Italian lire, answered Joe.
"Good, she answered. "Give me five standard credits please," she
said, holding out her hand.
"Five?" Joe said in amazement. "That's all?"
"Yes," Amiru said, smiling. "For now, anyway. Later we will have to
buy drinks too."
Joe handed her five one credit coins. "But," he objected. "That is
less than I tipped the taxi driver. Are you sure that will be enough?"
"Yes. There are a number of things that you do not realize since you
are not from Singapore, and currency is obviously one of them. You gave
the taxi driver fifty Singapore dollars as a tip. That comes to about
seven standard credits if you go to one of the official conversion
centers. However if you take that same seven credits to one of the
backstreet exchanges, instead of the official exchange rate of seven to
one, you can get as high as twenty-five to one. So what you are looking at
here is one hundred and twenty-five Malaysian dollars instead of the
thirty five that you think your money is worth. She will use two credits
to pay for the fish and keep the other three for herself. And believe me,
she will be happy.
"I never realized that," said Joe. "Are there really two different
exchange rates here?"
"Three actually. If you deal in one thousand credit notes I could get
you as much as forty to one."
"You could make a small fortune overnight by going back and forth
between the two, couldn't you?" asked Joe cautiously.
"No," she answered quickly. "That can't be done. You would have to
prove where you got the dollars from when you go to reconvert them back to
credits, since this is a local currency. The only place that you can get
them is in Malaysia. You need a receipt or a bank invoice stating you had
officially converted that much from credits before they would allow you to
reconvert. If you tried, the banks would refuse the transaction."
"There has to be a way around it though," insisted Joe.
"Not really. But what you can do is convert one thousand credits
officially to protect yourself, since dealing on the black market is
illegal," Amiru explained. "Then you convert whatever you need over that
amount on the black market for day-to-day expenses. When you get ready to
leave you reconvert your thousand back into credits. It's a cheap way to
have a good vacation. The receipt is your protection if the police stop
you and you have to prove where you converted your currency."
"Damn," said Joe, respect showing in his eyes, "I'll have to remember
that." Their talk was interrupted by a basket being lowered from the Junk.
In it were three large red fish and about a half-dozen small octopus. The
woman examined them carefully and then dropped two of the coins in the
basket. She then cast off the line and allowed the junk to proceed without
her. She sculled the sampan back to the buoys and the collection of
sampans moored there. She expertly snagged one of the buoys and clipped it
to a line attached to the stern of her sampan, securing the boat in place.
She then removed the red banner and replaced it with a white one.
"That's the flag to signal the drink boats," Amiru explained. before
long a small motorized boat pulled alongside and the bargaining began
anew. Soon they were in possession of two large bottles of a dark native
beer that Amiru claimed was excellent and two more credits changed hands.
The Malaysian woman then deftly cleaned the fish and octopus, and expertly
prepared them into one of the best seafood dinners that Joe could ever
remember eating. The food and the ambient atmosphere of the quiet ocean
created a soothing and satisfying mood that Joe had never experienced
before. the hour was quite late before they were finally on their way back
to the quay where they found a waiting row of taxis.
"This place is not exactly a secret," laughed Amiru, leading Joe to a
taxi. "Typhoon Anchorage is considered the finest seafood restaurant in
the world," she continued once the taxi was on it's way. "There is a
second anchorage in Hong Kong that is virtually the same as this one and
there is a lot of argument over which one is better or, for that matter,
older.
"Singapore is an older city than Hong Kong but no one is really sure
when the anchorage restaurants truly started. But it really does not
matter. All I know is that they are good. Very good."
"I'll agree with that," Joe said as Amiru directed the taxi to let
them off about two blocks from the Raffles, so that they could walk back
through the gardens. "Never have I eaten like that." Joe pulled her close
as they walked through the darkened garden, following the footpaths by the
light of low, dim lamps set along the edges of the paths. Eventually they
came back to the front of the New Raffles and into the lobby, passing
quickly through on their way up to their rooms.
Joe unlocked the door and reached in to snap on the lights. His wrist
was grabbed roughly from inside and he was yanked into the room. Surprised
and unable to stop, he stumbled across the room and collided with an
overstuffed chair that was in his way, crushing it as he fell to the
floor. Joe slowly rolled over onto his back to see a black uniformed man
pointing a small but deadly handgun at him.
"Do not move" the man ordered tersely. "You are under arrest." Joe
rolled his eyes over to look toward the door and saw another man in a
similar uniform covering Amiru. "Leave her alone," he said. "she's done
nothing." Sensing motion, he turned his attention to the other side of the
room. There he saw four more men file out of the bedroom, all wearing
similar uniforms.
Joe was roughly assisted to his feet and then was thoroughly
searched. One man removed his wallet and examined it. "It's Francelli," he
said to the rest, examining the ID card. "Get him out of here."
"Wait a minute," protested Joe. "What the hell is going on here? What
gives you the right to break in here like this and grab us?"
The man who had spoken and who seemed to be in charge turned back to
Joe. "We're from the Singapore police force, and you have no rights here
unless we choose to give them to you. Out," he barked at the two men
holding him, gesturing toward the door.
He was taken down through a strangely empty lobby and out to an
unmarked police transport where he was locked into one of the holding
cells inside. A short ride through the streets brought him to the local
police station where he was transferred into a larger but equally dismal
cell.
3
Abe finally left his rooms and reported to the exit officer. The man
checked the camera hidden in an outside hall and then opened the hidden
door, allowing Abe to slip quickly out and into the darkened hallway
leading to the agency's parking garage where Abe kept his personal
vehicle.
Although he could afford much better, he chose to drive a modest
three-wheeled dark brown runabout. It would not draw notice in a city
where over a million similar vehicles were registered. He stopped briefly
by the auto before deciding to walk tonight. His destination was not that
far and he didn't need to add any more miles than necessary, preferring to
keep his road-use taxes as low as possible.
The streets tonight were dark and cold. Most of the street lamps were
turned off to conserve power. Only the busiest streets were lit, and the
occasional neighborhood where the residents were wealthy enough to pay for
the power needed to keep the lights lit and maintained.
The sections of the city that Abe was heading toward was in the
poorest section of town, and the farthest he went, the fewer lights were
on until, near the abandoned sections where the homeless could be found,
not only had the lights been shut off, but the poles had been removed by
the city for use in other more prosperous locations.
Abe's eyes had adjusted to the deepening gloom by the time he had
arrived near his final destination, taking up stations across the street
from an old, decaying brownstone building that was actually in better
shape than most of it's neighbors.
Abe had only a short wait before he saw a figure slip out of the
shadows that hid the front door. The man was dressed in similar attire and
hugged the edges of the buildings as best he could. Abe had met the man
occasionally when he had been 'Jake' and knew that he supplemented his
beggars income by brief nightly burglary raids on the mostly unprotected
homes of the marginally employed lower classes.
Abe had expected the man to be working almost every night. He was a
young man, with the agility and speed of the young, and his live-in
girlfriend had just delivered him with a new baby a few weeks earlier.
Feeling the need for a steady source of reliable funds the man had
been working very hard in the last few weeks to insure the health of his
new baby.
Abe followed him quietly, keeping well back but maintaining visual
contact as the man slipped through the dark, silent city. The young man
expertly avoided the few street lights that were still functioning as he
returned to the more populated parts of the large city, finally selecting
a darkened home. Abe could see nothing special about this house but
realized that the man probably had his reasons for choosing his one.
Abe took up stations across the street and settled in to wait,
pulling the collar of his thin coat up over his exposed neck and taking
cover from the cold wind. He expected to be spending a number of similar
nights until the opportunity that he was waiting for arrived.
Seven long nights passed slowly, while Abe watched the skilled
second-story man successfully ply his trade. He had received a number of
go-aheads from control but had not been in position to make use of them.
But he was, if nothing else, patient. He knew that all factors would
eventually work out and the job would finally end.
At two am, the eighth night out, Abe was hiding behind the remains of
a large sofa and across the street from a large apartment building when he
saw the young man swiftly climb down the ornate facade of the building and
drop quietly to the pavement. As usual he carried little in the way of
bulky objects, apparently selecting small, more valuable items that would
be much easier to carry.xxx
"Control here," came the tinny voice in his left ear. "Ninety seconds
if you can finish it now." The voice broke off, leaving him alone with the
silence of the dark evening. He knew nearly instinctively that the times
given him by control had to be strictly adhered to to insure that there
would be no alibi this evening. He also knew that he would have to play a
difficult game of dodging the patrolling police cruisers afterwards.
Abe stood silently from behind the ruins of an old sofa that he had
been using as cover as the young man slipped swiftly into an alleyway. Abe
followed him on silent feet, closing the distance between the two men
rapidly. Just as the man was turning onto a wider but still quiet street,
Abe released the first of the two knives, catching the man high in the
upper thigh. Abe knew that, since the blade was poisoned, the wound would
prove fatal but not fast enough to insure instant death.
The man let out a soft gasp and dropped to the dirty pavement,
clawing for an inside pocket and his com unit. He managed to press the
emergency button before losing consciousness, death finally taking him
shortly after that.
"Com link activated," reported the tinny voice. Light cruiser is on
it's way to your location. Satcam coverage locked in, and has you under
surveillance," it added.
Abe dropped the second knife in the alley and turned to run quickly
back the way he came, relying on the satcam to keep track of his movement.
He was two blocks away when the voice returned.
"Light cruiser has reached the scene," it reported. "An alert has
gone out to all units and a grid has been laid out. Satcam coverage has
you listed as the prime suspect," it added needlessly. Two cruisers are
now maneuvering to intercept you."
Abe knew exactly how the grids worked and felt reasonably sure that
he could keep ahead of the cruisers until the next stage of the operation
was completed. Using a complicated scheme of turns and switchbacks, he
kept moving himself off of the grid map the police were laying down as
they hunted, forcing them to continually widen their patterns.
Finally, Abe turned out onto a wide boulevard and ahead of him,
mounted on the side of the building he saw a police camera and shortly
after that, noticed the brief flash of laser light as the unit attempted
to take his retina print. The security screen he was wearing flared and
died, the laser pulsing again and again as Abe attempted to cover his eyes
with his hands and stumble back around the corner, away from the camera.
Smiling to himself, he darted into a narrow alleyway and found a
rusting manhole cover. Ripping it up out of its mounting ring he dropped
into the city's sewer system and fled through the darkened tunnels,
finally escaping the police patrols.
As Abe ran, he congratulated himself on a successful operation, as
the comlink once again called for his attention.
"Lasercam transmitted three complete retina prints to police
headquarters," it announced. "The game is nearly complete. All police
cruisers have been recalled and in about ten minutes it will be safe to
finish the job."
Abe settled down to a leisurely walk, keeping his eyes open for an
easy exit out into the streets above him. Ahead he saw a bright circle of
light streaming in from a missing manhole. He climbed carefully up the
rusting ladder and peeked out of the hole. He was in another alleyway, but
this one was off one of the city's main arteries and lay close to a
functioning street light.
Abe levered himself out of the hole, attempting to stay as clean as
possible, brushing off the worst of the dirt before setting off
purposefully toward one of the automated shopping outlets that he often
frequented between assignments. Once he arrived there, he used his ID to
open one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind him and
accessing the shopping lists.
He scrolled through until he found security screens and ordered one
of the same models as the defective one that he now wore. He had waited
about ten minutes when a thump announced the arrival of the package in the
delivery hopper. He opened the corrugated box and removed the new helmet
and placed it on the table in front of him. He then removed the defective
one and put it in the box before dropping it down the disposal chute,
sending it on its way to the salvage station. The last thing he did was
remove the contacts and swallowed them, depending on his stomach's acid to
quickly break down the soft plastic lenses and remove the evidence.
After completing this last chore, he slowly walked back to the
parking garage. He completed the algorithym, using the days date as the
variable and entered a six digit code into the keyboard of the inoperative
elevator on the first floor. He stepped out of the old car and waited for
the control officer to identify him and open the hidden door, allowing him
access to the underground offices of the Agency.
He nodded briefly to the access officer before seeking out his
briefing officer where he turned in his fake ID.
"Good job," the man said warmly. "The police have enough evidence to
pick the man up and make all charges stick. Soon they will have the
opportunity to extract any information needed to convict him of the other
murders as well," the man said, smiling.
Abe chose not to answer the man but left silently, not even
acknowledging the man's words. He really disliked these types of
operations, but recognized their necessity. He had read that before the
turn of the century, confessed criminals actually got off due to
technicalities in the law.
Today however, the laws were much harder to beat. And in the cases
that were nearly impossible to prove, Internal Security had the means to
manufacture any evidence needed, once the criminal's guilt had been
assured. Today, like the eighties and nineties, a person's right to
privacy was held to be inviolable. This did not mean that the police
wouldn't use whatever they had to to acquire evidence, it just meant that
much of it was inadmissible in court. Hence the need for operations
similar to those he had just completed. If a criminal was successfully
eluding the law, The agency had no compulsions toward manufacturing
whatever was needed to prove guilt in a court of law once the police were
assured of the man's guilt.
"And," thought Abe, "to date, none of the cases that they had
assisted in had ever been acquitted in court, but all had led to the
conviction of the criminal in question."
He passed quickly through the halls until he came to the offices
occupied by his boss.
"You cannot go in yet," protested the secretary, as Abe ignored her,
stepping past and into the larger office.
The man was alone, but was facing his vid and speaking to someone Abe
could not see. "Something's come up, Major. I'll get back to you," he said
as he hit the cancel button and turned to face Abe.
Abe spoke first, not allowing the man any time. "You know I hate
these kinds of assignments," he started, cutting off the older man with a
sharp gesture before continuing. "I believe that I am overdue for
vacation, and I am taking it!," he said, his tone of voice indicating that
he would not accept any answer other than "yes."
The older man nodded briefly before entering a string of commands in
his comp. He then looked up and smiled. "Sure," he said, giving no
argument. "In fact, I see that you have enrolled in our university," he
announced."
"The hell I have," growled Abe. "Vacation! Nothing more!," he said
hotly.
"But you will need it to take your cruise," he said, leaning back in
his armchair and crossing his arms behind his head. "Just think," he
continued. "Sixty days of nothing but rest, relaxation and seeing the
sights."
"There's a catch here, somewhere," said Abe suspiciously. "What am I
supposed to be learning, anyway?"
"Astronavigation," came the quick answer.
"The hell you say," exploded Abe. "I absolutely will not accept
another assignment yet. Especially one into space. Do you understand?" The
last three words he punctuated by leaning over the large desk and driving
his index finger into the older man's chest as he spoke.
"Oh, come on, Abe, give me a break," he said disgustedly.
"This assignment calls for a junior agent but since you need a break,
I am offering it to you. It's a cakewalk. Besides, you are long overdue
for your next upgrade. I was thinking of reccomending you for a promotion.
You deserve one, judging by the way you handle your assignments. That
would bring you up to Class Two."
"Don't bullshit me. All class two's are general field operatives and
are controlled by the area HQ. We both know that if you reccomend me, you
will lose me. That is why I have been stuck here so long as a class three.
I am the best that you have and you do not want to give me up."
"That's not true," the older man protested. "You may be good but you
are not the best. And you have to be damned good to rate a Class two. But
to show you that I am sincere, if you agree to read the file, I will pass
your reccomendation along to the sector headquarters. You can check on it
personally before you commit to anything."
He entered a string of commands on his terminal and turned back to
Abe. "At least take the time to read the briefing report. It has been
turned over to your room comp, and then think it over for a while. If you
still say no, then you can have your vacation. Ok? And I am serious about
the Class two."
"Ok," Abe agreed finally, letting out a sigh of frustration. "I'll
read it, but no promises," turning toward the door to let himself out. He
returned to his rooms to read the reports, poring over the information
there, losing track of time completely until his stomach growled for his
attention and Abe realized how long he had been enraptured in the reports.
He understood now why the Director had been so concerned. There
seemed to be a back door into the computers that had yet to be found.
Someone who was very good had entered quite a bit of information and bogus
files. What was not known yet was how much had been added and what was yet
to be uncovered. So far, all they seemed to have was a name. Charles
Joiner. He was at present a prisoner on his way to Mars but there was no
indication why the man was important to the underground.
"He sure doesn't make it easy," thought Abe as he headed toward the
cafeteria. Once there he found an empty table and settled himself in.
"May I join you?," a voice asked from over his right shoulder.
Abe looked up to see the briefing officer holding a tray and waiting
to be invited to sit. "Sure," he offered, nodding toward one of the empty
chairs.
"Thanks," the young man said. "But honestly, I am not here by
accident. The Director asked me to look you up. He said that you might
have a few questions."
Abe was not happy about being so manipulated but the man was correct.
He did have a few things on his mind. He said nothing for a short while,
but quickly finished his meal before speaking again.
"How much do you know of this new mission?" Abe asked finally.
"Probably more than you do, but not that much more," he admitted
reluctantly.
"That's a start," Abe said, settling back into his chair before
continuing. "The Director said that this would be an easy job, and that he
was originally going to assign a junior agent," Abe began. "But judging by
the briefing reports, this one was designed around my special
qualifications. True?"
"Yes," nodded the young man. "This will be an easy job but only
because you have the necessary position in the underground to handle it.
The underground is up to something and the Director wants to know what."
"Do you know anything at all about who it is that I am to follow?"
"I don't," said the young man. "But I do not know what information
the Director has at his disposal that he hasn't shared yet."
Abe nodded but said nothing, lost in thought for the moment.
"Surely there must be some information on him in the data banks,"
said Abe after a short break.
"Unfortunately, no," said the briefing officer, much to the surprise
of Abe. We suspect that they have access to the comp records and that they
have changed his data files," continued the young man. "We wish to find
out what they are doing, and one of the operations involves keeping track
of the man and seeing what they are up to. Interested?"
"Abe nodded reluctantly. "I hate to admit it, but yes, I am," he said
to the smiling man.
"We thought so," he admitted. "We suspected that once you fell into
the information you would be intrigued enough to see it through." He stood
before continuing. "In that case the Director would like to see you right
away in his office sir," he said before leaving Abe alone at the small
table.
The Director was seated in his office, exactly as Abe had left him a
few hours earlier.
"In a better mood?," he asked cheerfully.
"Somewhat," admitted Abe, seating himself in one of the comfortable
chairs near the large desk. Abe let his eyes wander around the office, his
eyes lingering over the wall of antique books, scanning rows of titles,
most of which Abe had read at one time or another, although he owned no
actual volumes. The rest of the office was decorated in comfortable
furniture and expensive art objects, collected from various places all
over the solar system, including a Martian abstract of red sandstone. If
it was authentic, it was probably the most valuable piece in the room.
Some people believed that the stones were of natural origin but most
thought that they were relics of a long-lost Martian civilization that had
disappeared millions of years ago, leaving nothing behind except piles of
beautiful stone sculptures.
Finally the Director spoke, drawing his attention away from the art.
"So, have you made your decision yet?," he asked hopefully.
Abe nodded, but said nothing at first but examined the Director.
"Yes," he said finally.
"Good," the Director said finally. "I thought that you would come
around." He entered another string of commands into his terminal and slid
a flimsy to Abe. "This is a copy of the reccomendation I sent of to HQ."
He stopped speaking to spin the monitor around so that Abe could see the
screen as the information he called for appeared.
"Here is all the additional data that you didn't get due to security
reasons. This should answer all of the rest of your questions."
Abe nodded, quickly scanning the additional information and
committing it to memory. "Then the underground does have access to the
comp files?," he said finally, after reading the data.
"Yes," agreed the Director. "They are getting in somewhere but we
have yet to determine where and close the door. Until then, they can play
havoc with the comp."
"I can see why you are interested in this case, then. If we don't
find the door, they can do literally anything and get away with it
completely, with no worry of getting caught!"
"That," agreed the Director," is why we want you to follow this
Charles Joiner out into the colonies and find out who and what he and what
it is that they are up to!"
"Ok, I'm your man then. This sounds like an easy assignment after
all. And I will have plenty of time to relax," he said with a laugh. "It
may actually turn out to be a vacation.
"That is one way to look at it," laughed the Director. "A vacation
that no ammount of money can buy!"
Things moved quickly after that. There was a rush to get him
processed and into the system soon enough to be on the Oppenheimer when it
left orbit for Mars. Once he had been down to the Hypnocenter and was
crammed with a complete knowledge of Astronavigation, he was transferred
to the Internal Security offices in North Africa, to await the launch of
the last shuttle of prisoners.
He was being escorted down into the prisoners section when his two
guards stopped at an office and passed him through the door to an
immaculately dressed lieutenant waiting inside.
"Please sit, sir." The Lieutenant asked.
Abe said nothing but sat as the lieutenant left the office by the
front door. After a short wait the inner office door opened and Abe came
face to face with Major Caine. Abe leaped to his feet as he entered, but
sat down again as the Major waved absently at his chair.
"This will be your last briefing," said Caine, placing a large
briefcase on the desk. "And I brought along some special equipment that
you will be needing on the mission."
Abe said nothing but settled in to wait and listen to what the man
had to say.
Time. How do you measure time in a gray box with no windows? Two days
or ten days could have passed. Or two hours. Memory hazes after a period
of disorientation. But finally, after a small eternity he heard a door
open down the hall and soon after that a large guard appeared.
"Come on," the guard ordered. "You're wanted up front." He stood as
the guard opened up the cell door and then was led to a series of rooms
where he was slowly processed through the system. He was photographed, his
fingerprints and retina prints recorded, he had his height and weight
measured, his blood type, tissue type and finally his brain wave patterns
recorded. After they were satisfied that he really was who they thought he
was, they returned him to his cell. Through the entire grim ordeal no one,
except for a few terse commands, had spoken to him. And no one would
answer any of his questions.
When he reentered his cell he found a plain but filling meal waiting
for him. Algae paste proteins but then he had hardly expected more than
that. And although he could find no indications of one, there must have
been a camera monitoring his cell because, as soon as he had finished his
meal, the guard reappeared to remove the empty tray. When the guard had
disappeared another man, in a dark suit that almost screamed Lawyer,
appeared and let himself into the cell.
"Hi, I'm Marc Williams," he said, announcing himself before he sat on
the bed next to Joe. "I have been assigned by the courts as your public
defender."
"It's about time," Joe said crossly. "I am getting sick and tired of
all this runaround. But I can afford a real attorney, I don't need one
assigned to me."
"I am a real attorney and it's no runaround," he said. "I'm afraid
the arrest is legitimate."
"Legitimate?," protested Joe. "Bull shit. I just arrived from
Armstrong and I haven't been here long enough to break any laws."
"Nonetheless you were picked up with a known courier from the
underground. It is suspected that you are also a courier here to pick up
something and return it to the Armstrong."
"That's crazy," Joe shouted, leaping to his feet. The cell was too
small to pace in but he remained standing.
"No, it's not crazy," Marc continued. "Unfortunately the evidence is
stacked against you and there will be no acquittal. In fact you have
already been found guilty! That is why you were assigned an attorney.
Since you have already been judged guilty, you have no need to hire one.
The money would just be wasted."
"Look," said Joe in desperation. "We both know that the underground
idea is nuts. The government..." He stopped to wave a hand toward the
front of the building. "Everyone knows that Internal Security controls the
underground and now, you are trying to tell me that the police think I am
a member? Internal Security knows who they all are, just check with them."
Marc held up his hands in supplication. "Look," he said. "I know you
are not a courier, but the charges will stand, no matter what you do.
Besides, before you could appeal the charges, you will be long gone. I
don't like this any better than you do. This is one of my least favorite
jobs and I am probably going to get into trouble telling you this but what
the hell." He stopped and looked up toward the light fixture. "If they are
going to railroad you, at least you should know why. The police want you
out of the picture and this is the easiest way to do it."
"But why?" Joe asked in a puzzled voice. "What the hell am I supposed
to have done?"
"Nothing. Personally I think that you are in the right and she should
be the one punished."
"She? Amiru?," said Joe incredulously. "What has she got to do with
this?"
"Everything," continued Marc. "In fact she is the reason that you are
here. Look, you obviously don't know who she is. Her husband is Senator
Polkova, one of the richest men in the world. And her own personal fortune
is not far below that. He is in his seventies, while she is in her early
twenties. Usually he just looks the other way when she has her affairs but
then, she's not supposed to be so blatant about them." Marc stopped and
waved back to the bed. "Sit down," he said. I don't like the way you are
looming over me and my neck is beginning to ache. Please?"
Joe sat, reluctantly. "Okay," he said. "But if what you are saying is
true, why did they ever get married in the first place?"
"You obviously don't know much about politics either. In Malaysia,
the law says that if he dies while in office, his designated replacement
inherits his seat. And she is who he designated. True, she will still have
to stand for reelection but believe me, as an incumbent, it is almost
impossible to lose the seat! This is just about the only way she stood a
chance to get into the Senate. And as one of the youngest members of the
World Senate, she stands to inherit untold power and wield it for a very
long time. It was in her best interests to marry him. And he needed her
family's power at the time to get a special project of his through.
Otherwise it would have stood no chance at all. So believe me when I say
it was a marriage based only on political power, not love.
"Unfortunately for you, at this moment there is a behind the scenes
power struggle going on in the Security Council. Senator Polkova chairs
that council and he does not need an unfaithful wife's affairs thrown in
his face by his political rivals at this time. He needed to show his
opponents that he still can wield the power necessary to get his job done.
You just turned out to be the example he needed. It is strictly politics,
backroom, knifepoint politics and there is nothing either of us can do
about it."
"Ok. So if what you say is true, just what can I do?"
"Nothing," admitted Marc sadly. "In a couple of days you will go on
trial. And then it will be officially over. Look, you are lucky. This is a
rush job. You will be tried, packaged, and sent off so fast that no one
will see you go. You will be on the Oppenheimer when it leaves next week
for Mars."
"Mars?" Joe asked. "Just what the hell is an orbital pilot supposed
to do on Mars?"
"Not much. But there is a dire need for qualified ships pilots out in
the belt."
"Well, that's something," Joe snarled in frustration. "But once out
there, I can't return. Ever! That is not fair! What about the rest of my
life? and the plans I have. Have you tried contacting my family to see
what they can do? My father is powerful in his own right"
"So who ever said life was fair?," shot back Marc. "There is nothing
they can do for you. Your father cannot buck the power Senator Polkova
wields. Especially on his own turf. Had you gone to Italy instead, it
would be a different story. Besides, it's a whole new life out there.
Internal Security does not have it's tentacles there yet and may never do
so."
"So what's that supposed to mean?," asked Joe guardedly, picking up
on the tone of the statement.
Marc said nothing, but reached into his inside coat pocket. He
removed a small black box with a couple of switches on it. He turned it on
and set a dial. "I have to talk fast," he said. This is a squealer. It
puts out a high frequency signal that overloads the audio pickup and they
cannot monitor our conversation. There are big things happening there and
the belt is the place to be. If you are interested you will be in on the
action at one of the major turning points in history."
"Like what?," asked Joe, beginning to get interested.
"I can't tell you too much because I don't know much myself. But you
are one of the types that I look for. You fit a specific job profile. In
fact the profile could have been written right from your records, since
you are the closest match I have ever found. But believe me when I say
that this is not an end but a beginning. A new and bright beginning for
Mars and the Asteroid Colonies. That is the place to be and you will learn
more once you are out there. If you are interested, that is. There will be
a ship on Deimos captained by Shaun O'Cassidy and the ship's name is the
Runner, be on it."
"I'll think about it," Joe said. "Okay?"
Marc smiled. "Sure. That's really all that I can ask. There is one
more thing though," he said, turning off the box. He handed Joe a short
stack of papers. "These are the bills from the New Raffles. If you would
look them over and approve them I can authorize their payment from your
cash reserve. You do, by the way, have enough cash to cover it all."
Joe smiled, taking the papers. "Sure," he said. "It's not their
fault, what happened to me. It was a good hotel and they deserve to get
paid." He read and then signed them for Marc. "How much will be left over
after all of the bills are paid?"
"Your personal accounts cannot be touched," said Mark
"What happens to them?"
"Once you are officially declared guilty it gets transferred to Mars.
The official rate of exchange is one standard credit per Mars dollar. The
actual value is about ten Mars dollars to one credit, so the government
stiff's you there too. But there is nothing that you can do about it. They
own the game and they make all of the rules. But you still will have a
very large total," Marc explained. "Much more than most who arrive on
Mars. You won't be badly off at all. In fact, you will have enough credit
to buy your own ship outright if you want one. Few captains ever get to
own their own ships."
"Why is that?," asked Joe. He had never expected to get sent to the
colonies so he, like most had learned very little about the actual
situation out there.
"It's tied in with the economic situation," said Marc. "Remember what
I said the Mars dollar is actually worth? Well here's how it works. When
you buy a ship, the banks, which are Earth controlled will not deal in
Mars dollars because they consider it a local currency. You must exchange
them for standard credits first. That is where they get you again. They
exchange them back at the real value of ten to one. Everything that you
buy, you pay actual value for but everything that you sell, including
currency, you only get one tenth of its actual value. They figure it's
value in credits and then pay you in Mars Dollars. That way they cannot
lose. It's a system that is very unfair and one that needs changing badly."
"Is there any way around it?," asked Joe. "Could I buy a ship here on
Earth?"
"No. The system was designed to gut the colonies of everything of
value to supply a resource starved Earth. As a result nearly every
colonist is not only broke but deeply in debt to the banks. They spend all
of their time working to supply the hunger of the industries both on and
off Earth. We now effectively have a class of serfs. An entire population
economically tied to a piece of land with absolutely no way to move from
it. In this case the piece of land is the Asteroid belt but it is still a
valid analogy. They toil unceasingly, never getting out of debt but are
always trying, although they fall deeper and deeper into debt every day."
"Why?," asked Joe in a puzzled voice. "What happens then?"
"Nothing. A person who is in debt is a person that can be controlled,
a person who is owned. They want you in debt. The entire system is
designed to keep you there. Remember that it is only a paper debt. If the
colonists were paid a proper wage most of them would not be in debt at
all. As of now the belt simply does not produce enough to cover the full
cost of the colonies. There is a huge deficit that Earth feels more and
more as her own economy falters. It keeps the colonists locked to this
system to assure themselves that every last drop of blood is squeezed out
of them."
"I'm not sure that I understand," said Joe. "What kind of a whip do
they hold? If everyone is in debt then why bother to try to repay them?"
"Everything is bought and sold through the banks. If you don't do
what they feel that you are capable of then they can reduce your rations
until you are on a starvation diet. But they rarely do that. There are
other ways of keeping people in line. Ship Captains, for instance face the
possibility of losing their ships. In fact that is where they get the
crews for the Mars runs. Operating a big freighter is a very undesirable
job. The crews are on a very fixed income and have no chance of striking a
big mineral or ore deposit like the mining ships do. They get no frills or
luxuries, just the bare essentials. Most miners will do nearly anything to
avoid falling that far. And there are other equally undesirable jobs. The
only way to fill them is from the debtors rolls."
Marc saw the confusion in Joe's eyes and quickly continued. "The roll
is a complete list of the population of the colonies and how far in debt
everyone is. When a job opening occurs the man or woman on the bottom of
the list is assigned to it. Once you are assigned to one of these
positions you serve for one year. At the end of that time your debt is cut
in half and that raises you up above the point where you won't get another
such assignment soon. There is a large enough turnover that at one time or
another nearly all of the population is close to the assignment point."
"Damn," said Joe. "It sounds a lot like slavery to me, yet you said
that the belt is the place to be. Why?"
"A repressive system such as that cannot last long. It will have to
be changed and believe me, it will. Go out there and wait and see." Marc
said no more but stood and let himself out of the cell. He disappeared
down the gray corridor and Joe heard the security door down the long hall
open and then shut behind the departing man.
Dr. Quade awoke to keys jangling in the lock of his cell. He sat up
on the side of the narrow cot, awaiting his captors. The cot was a small
comfort in a cell of harsh angles. A toilet was set in one corner next to
a concrete sink. A single faucet gave what water he needed. Cold water. No
sense in making it any more comfortable than necessary.
"Prisoner 13401, step out of the cell." Dr. Quade stood and examined
his guard. Large, efficient looking. No apparent weapons, and probably had
little need for any. As Dr. Quade left the cell the guard backed up,
staying out of easy reach. In the narrow gray corridor stood a second
guard, similar in appearance to the first. "Turn and walk down the
passage," the guard directed with a curt, gruff voice. As Dr. Quade slowly
made his way down the hall, the second guard stopped and relocked the cell
door. On his way down the hall Dr. Quade passed a number of other cells.
Most were empty but a few contained other prisoners. At the far end of the
hall a heavy steel door opened out onto a large busy hall with the
standard flavor of administration. The heavy steel door swung closed and
was locked behind him and he was escorted to a small office. Here he was
directed to sit in a chair next to a desk.
"Prisoner 13401," a pretty young girl began, switching on her desk
comp terminal. "We have finished entering your trial data and are now
ready to transfer you out." She punched a few keys on the terminal and a
printer clattered into life before ejecting a small plastic card. "Keep
this with you at all times," she directed. She reached into a lower desk
drawer and removed a long chain.
"Wear it around your neck," she said, attaching the chain to the
card. She then handed the card and chain to Dr. Quade. On one side of the
card was his photo and on the other his pertinent biological data and a
name. Charles Joiner. "The card will allow you to move freely about the
holding areas of the ship," she said. She turned to the two guards. "I'm
through with him here," she instructed. "You can now take him to medical."
He stood, allowing the two guards to lead him out of the office, back into
the corridor and into another set of suites a short distance away. Here he
was confronted by a tall young man who handed him a clipboard and a
pencil.
"Fill out all of the forms and then return them to me," he was
directed. Dr. Quade took a seat at a nearby booth and began. They
contained all of the usual questions. List any and all allergies, history
of broken bones, and so on and so on. After completing the paperwork he
was next subjected to the most complete physical examination that he had
had the misfortune of experiencing. Feeling at least five pounds lighter
from the tissue and fluid samples they took, he was at last turned back
over to his two guards.
The last stop on the agenda was at the far end of the corridor. Here
he was keyed through a security door into a small antechamber. Mounted on
the wall at waist level, next to another security door was a small card
reader. He inserted his card into the slot and the door cycled open
revealing a comfortable waiting lounge where he was, for the first time
since his arrest, in the company of other prisoners. Mounted high on one
wall was a vid terminal tuned to one of the local sports stations. A table
in the corner was being used by four men as a card table. Other prisoners
made use of the large collection of books and magazines spread through the
room.
One of the card players stood and made his way over to him. "Do you
know how to play five-man murder?," he asked. The man was short and
swarthy with a definite Mediterranean look about him. His long face was
accentuated by short black hair and cold blue eyes.
"Yeah, but not since college," said Dr. Quade. "A long time ago."
"College man, huh? Well professor, few of us here have much book
learning but I think that you will find us a pretty sharp crew." He stuck
out his hand. "I'm Joe" he said, introducing himself."
"I'm, uh, just call me Charlie, Ok?," said Dr. Quade.
"Sure thing. Come on over and meet the rest of the gang." He led Dr
Quade over to the table. "That's Pete," began Joe, moving around the table
toward a large man with a red beard and hair, with noticeably green eyes
set back into his head. Pete nodded his acknowledgment.
"Next to him is Tom," continued Joe. "Not his real name though. Won't
tell us who he is so we all kinda settled on Tom." Tom examined Dr. Quade,
blinking once but otherwise not speaking at all. "Last is Abdullah. He
doesn't speak much English but he is a real sharp card player." Abdullah
also nodded.
And I am Joe Franchelli. Ipso facto leader of this motley montage of
assorted criminals and ragtag citizenry.
"Call me Charlie," he announced to the group. "But before we get
started do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Depends," said Joe. "What do you want to know?"
"First," began Charlie, "Where are we?"
"Here?," Asked Joe in surprise. "Internal Security HQ., North Africa.
The largest military base on the continent."
"Their shuttle launch base, right?"
"Correct," said Joe. "What else do you want to know?"
"That's the main thing, but do you happen to know when we lift to the
Mars ship?"
"Mars," said Pete wistfully. "Do you know that we are lucky? Today is
the last lift to the ship before she leaves orbit. After today's lift,
Mars will be too far out of position for another ship launch. Only fast
ships using grav-whip can make the run. Far too expensive to send
colonists that way. By next launch date, the Antarctic penal colony will
have lost twenty-five percent of their inmates. Did you know that?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, I've never heard those figures before."
"Yeah, well it's true," finished Joe. "They don't usually publish
those figures on the newsvid. Anyway, lift is in about two hours. Let's
play murder."
Abdullah dealt first and Charlie waited until all of his cards had
been dealt him before picking up his hand. "Damn," he thought. Only a
small death. He might just fill it but the odds were he would suicide
first. He examined the other players, seeking information in their faces.
Joe looked worried, Tom and Pete were completely unreadable and Abdullah
looked pleased. "Well," he thought to himself, "I'll concentrate on the
two I can read and try to get the feel of the other two as the game
unfolds."
"I'll take one," announced Tom, seated to Abdullah's left. Abdullah
dealt him one card. Tom picked it up and discarded a jack. And so the play
went.
As the end of the two hours approached Charlie felt that he had done
rather well, managing to complete one full murder while holding his own
fairly well on the hands that had fallen against him.
Joe finally scooped up the cards and returned them to their box,
which then disappeared into a pocket. "Reconvene aboard ship gentlemen?,"
he asked with a shy grin.
"Sure thing," said Charlie. "Look me up." The others all nodded in
agreement.
"Attention" said a soft feminine voice a short time later. "You will
all exit the lounge by the rear door," she said, indicating the heavy
steel door was set in the back wall of the lounge. "As you go through the
door you all must run your card through the reader," the hidden voice
continued. "Once aboard the transport you may sit wherever you wish but
you all must sit. When you are all aboard, the transport will run you out
to the shuttle." The voice cut off abruptly as the steel door swung open,
revealing a small room with another glass door at the far end.
Dr. Quade joined the queue at the door, finding himself a seat at the
rear of the vehicle. After a short run out onto the shuttle parking area,
the transport's rear doors mated with the boarding lock on the large craft
and both doors opened, allowing access to the interior of the ship.
"All please exit the transport and seat yourselves in the shuttle"
the feminine voice ordered.
The interior of the shuttle was much like the commercial ships, which
Dr. Quade was very familiar, but there were a few minor changes. One, the
seats were narrower, allowing more of them. In this version there were
three seats on each side of the narrow aisle instead of the normal two.
And the compartments usually found up over the seats had been removed as
was the forward flight attendants station. Most notably, the access door
between the passenger and pilots compartments was missing. In it's place
was a blank aluminum bulkhead.
"Please make sure that your safety harnesses are fastened securely,"
a male voice announced, and Dr. Quade assumed that the pilot was now
speaking. "Lift-off will be in ten minutes."
Dr. Quade had gotten on board the shuttle early and had seated
himself in one of the better seats, in front of the deeply swept wings
where the vibration would be slightly less. He would have a good view of
the terraine through the side viewport as the shuttle lifted off from the
large air base.
In the center seat next to him sat Joe, and a young man, one of the
last to enter the shuttle occupied the aisle seat. There was almost no
conversation in the shuttle as a dark feeling of anticipation spread
through the vehicle. A slight vibration could be felt and, soon after the
access hatch had been closed and sealed, the whine of the four large jet
engines could be heard. They were mounted close in to the body of the
shuttle, the base of the wings widening around them to protect them from
reentry shock. Special panels mated with the wings could be closed off to
protect them from reentry heat.
Outside the viewscreen the scenery of the North African desert swung
around as the shuttle rolled down the curving access lane, heading toward
the main runways. The shuttle made one last tight turn to align its nose
wheel with the center stripe of the miles long runway and Dr. Quade could
see the massive white concrete and tinted plas building that contained
Internal Security HQ. Suddenly the wing engines accelerated to a near ear
piercing whine and the shuttle lurched into a smooth roll down the long
runway. The passengers were pressed back into their meagerly padded seats
and the gray white desert sand dropped away below them as the big shuttle
clawed it's way upward, fighting for altitude. Up in the cockpit the pilot
decreased his throttle settings as his flight speed increased and the
shuttle gained lift, bringing the engine noise in the passenger cabin down
to a much more tolerable level.
The pilot thumbed the intercom switch as the shuttle passed 60,000
feet. "May I have your attention please," he announced. "At this time,
please do not remove your safety harnesses. Scramjet ignition will be
taking place in about thirty seconds. We will be going balistic briefly as
I reconfigure airflow through the engines."
Dr Quade could feel the rumblings of the powerful scramjets as the
shuttle's speed came within ignition range. He pressed his head back into
the padding in anticipation when, without warning, all aceleration ceased
followed almost immediately by a surge in acceleration as the four big
engines fired, thrusting all passengers back deeply into their seats and
accelerating the shuttle far past the sound barrier.
"Remarkable piece of machinery," Dr Quade thought. Powered by
ram/scramjets in the lower reaches of the atmosphere and liquid fueled
rockets when out in space. They were launched from huge bases near the
equator to take advantage of the Earth's rotational speed, and were
capable of short hops into low earth orbit to rendezvous with Leo base.
At about 260,000 feet the scramjets began faltering and three small
rocket engines cut in, propelling the shuttle into a stable Earth orbit,
to match with Leo base.
Out of the port side windows the prisoners could clearly see the big
station. "Impressive, is it not?" commented Charlie.
"You should see Shepherd if you think this one is big."
"I've seen it Joe. I've seen them all. But they all are beautiful in
their own way."
"I know what you mean. I believe that is why I have never tired of
space. No matter how often you see something, it can always look new to
you. It is as if you forget just how beautiful it all can be. Space can be
quite spectacular." There was a touch of awe and wonder coloring his
voice.
"I wonder what we are waiting for," said Charlie finally. "I thought
that we were heading for Leo base."
"That is what I had heard. But I have no idea what is happening now."
After a short wait the cabis speaker crackled into life. "This is the
pilot speaking," he began. "It looks like the Mars ship is anxious to get
you all on board. Leo is sending out a sled with an auxiliary fuel tank on
board. Once it is mated to the shuttle, we will boost directly out to the
Oppenheimer."
In the cabin Charlie and Joe said little, letting the confused voices
of the other prisoners quiet down a bit.
"I didn't know these shuttles could do that," Charlie said finally.
"Neither did I. Apparently that is something that they do not want
too many people to know about. Although I cannot understand why."
"{erhaps it is merely a matter of economics. It is far cheaper to
load everyone into the small orbital busses instead of boosting his big
thing all the way out to geosynch. it's a big ship to move tha far."
"Yeah, I guess that you are right," conceded Joe.
A slow moving light outise the port attracted their attention.
Soon, they could see the outlines of a small sled with a large fuel
tank strapped underneath. the sled disappeared below the view of the
prisoners and before long they felt a small bump as the tank was mated to
the belly of the bug shuttle.
"May I have your attention again," said the unseen pilot. "If any of
you have removed your seat belts or have left your seats, please return to
them. In ninety seconds I will be initiating a burn that will lift us
below the orbit of the Oppenheimer. Once the burn is completed, you will
have the opportunity to stretch your legs a bit. If any of you need to use
the facilities, be sure that you read the instructions completely before
you make a mess. I will not be cleaning it up, you will."
"Sounds like a nice guy," said Charlie with a grin.
Joe chuckled quietly but said nothing.
Suddenly, with no warning, the main engined fired atan and they could
see Leo base disappearing behind them as the Shuttle moved away.
The pilot threw the ship into a tight eliptical orbit, dipping down
nearly into the atmosphere, using the Earth's gravity to add more speed to
the shuttle. The top of the ellipse would be near but below the orbit of
the Oppenheimer, awaiting them in geosynch.
"Okay, that's it folks," the pilot finally announced after the
engines had shut down. "We will be in zero gee for some time now and I
will warn you all before we make our next burn to rendezvoux with the
Oppenheimer. You can now remove your seat belts and move about the cabin
if you wish."
In the cabin, Charlie was enjoying the view. He could see a large
portion of the Earth through his port. Beside him, Joe leaned over to get
a last glimps of Earth.
"I thought that you would have gotten used to this sight by now,"
commented Charlie.
"Never. Every time you see it, it takes your breath away. Besides,
this is the last time I am going to see Earth again. And I am going to
miss her."
"Home sick?"
"A little. But mostly mad. There is so much that I wanted to see. And
now it is all being taken away from me and there is nothing I can do about
it. My last meal was in Singapore, on a Junk."
Charlie looked at him quizically. "You had to be there," said Joe.
"There is much that I will miss also. My house for instance. I lived
in a restored Victorian mansion. No, not a reproduction, nearly sixty
percent of the house was verified original. It was on the national
historic register. True, I did not see much of the world but what I did
see, I will also miss." The two men said nothing, both lost in their own
private reveries
The time passed reasonably fast and Joe noticed that none of the
other passengers left their seats during the trip, content to stay seated
as the pilot had reccomended.
"In five minutes," the pilot finally announced, I will initiate
another engine burn. This will stabilize our orbit to match the Mars ship.
If any of you have left your seats, please return to them and make sure
that your harnesses are fastened." He made a few last-minute computer
notations and then fired the main engines.
The Mars ship lay behind them, about five kilometers away. Once he
was sure that the orbit was stable he reignited the main engine raising it
into a higher, slower orbit. Outside the cabin windows the Mars ship could
be seen, slowly passing the shuttle in it's lower orbit.
"Shuttle A3 to Oppenheimer," called the pilot, opening a channel of
communications.
"This is the Oppenheimer," came a confirming voice. "Go ahead,
shuttle A3."
"Will be arriving at your orbit soon," the pilot answered. "I have
one last load of pilgrims for the wagon train."
"Roger, shuttle A3," replied the controller with a grimace, as he
tried to remember all of the variations of that tired old joke he had
heard through the years. "Shuttle A3, I have docking confirmation now,"
the controller sent. "Bring your shuttle to access port B. There is a
transfer tube set up and waiting for you," he said.
"Roger, control," the pilot answered. He fired the directional jets,
expertly bringing the shuttle in alongside the huge ship. Unlike the sleek
shuttle this ship would never touch atmosphere. Similar lines of
engineering could be seen between the Oppenheimer and the orbital sled.
Most of the bulk of the ship was open steel framework connecting the parts
of the ship that were enclosed. At the front the navigation and crews
quarters. Farther back were the colonists quarters, linked by a pair of
semi-flexible tunnels to the crews quarters. Much farther behind that,
near the stern of the big ship lay the engineering modules and finally the
huge nuclear engines. Attached throughout the framework were the fuel
bladders, most of which were full. The rest of the open space would be
filled after the ship reached Mars by the tons of metals and minerals from
the Asteroid mines. On the way out she would be light and relatively fast,
but on the return voyage she would be solid and slow, every usable square
inch of space filled.
Somewhere ahead of her were her two sister ships, the Einstein and
the Neils Bohr. The Bohr would reach Mars in about thirty days, the
Einstein two weeks later and the Oppenheimer in about two months. Once at
Mars they would put down on Deimos to be refitted by the shipyards that
had built them.
The access port swung into view, its docking tube reaching out from
the side of the ship like a huge gun barrel. Near the end of the tube were
four suited figures. The pilot stopped all motion relative to the
Oppenheimer, his job over for the moment.
The suited figures wrestled with the tube, extending it farther
outward to mate against the outer lock seal of the shuttle. After the tube
had been pressurized, a man opened the shuttle door and entered the
compartment.
"Ok, this is the end of the line," he said. "Those of you who have
zero-gee experience are requested to leave the shuttle now. All others
will remain seated. There will be crew members along shortly to help the
rest of you over to the Oppenheimer."
A few of the passengers released their seat harnesses. "More than I
expected," thought Quade, surprised. He himself, having been in space
often had no trouble navigating in zero-gee, quickly making his way
through the long boarding tunnel and over to the huge ship. Once on board
he found himself in a narrow corridor with an airtight door at the far
end. Set in the wall next to the door was a small card reader. Dr. Quade
inserted his ID and the door cycled open.
Quade stepped in through the open door and was confronted by a desk
with a comp-terminal set into it. Seated at the desk was a large man, of
light complexion and brown hair, with the look of middle age nearly
passed.
"Charles Joiner?," he asked. "I am Alex Dunkes, Prisoner liaison. You
have been assigned to room L7. If you take this main corridor down to
cross-corridor L and turn right, L7 will be near the end of the hall. You
will find your sleeping quarters there. There will be a meeting in the
colonists mess in two hours. Be there."
Quade took that as a dismissal and pushed off down the corridor in
search of his room. It turned out to be quite easy to find and inside he
found a long narrow room with six zero-gee hammocks stretched across the
two closest walls. He was the first one assigned here so he chose the
farthest hammock from the door and slipped in, sealing the edges to insure
that he stayed there. After a brief wait the door cycled open and Joe
entered.
"Charlie," Said Joe. "I hoped to get in with you. When I saw that you
had your space legs I followed you out." They were interrupted by the door
opening to admit Tom. "Seems like old home week," continued Joe. The room
was soon filled, the last three arrivals were unknown although Charlie
thought that he remembered them from the Earthside lounge. Neither of the
three had ever been in space before so Charlie, Joe and Tom spent an
amusing hour and a half teaching them the rudiments of zero-gee
navigation.
They finally had to call a halt to the impromptu aerobatics. "Meeting
in ten minutes," announced Charlie finally. "Does anyone know the way to
the mess?"
"No," said Joe, "But I think that I can find out." He pushed off from
the wall, aiming for the communications panel set near the door and the
hand-grip beside it. There he keyed the button marked 'information'.
"May I help you," said the communicator, with the definite metallic
voice patterns of a comp.
"Yes," said Joe. "How do I get to the colonists mess?"
"Return to the main corridor and proceed aft. The corridor ends in an
airtight door. That is the colonists mess," the computer directed with
it's synthetic voice.
Together the six of them left the room to join the procession in the
main corridor heading for the mess. Most of the new arrivals had not had
much practice in zero-gee which slowed traffic considerably. Experienced
space hands would not have any trouble traveling in this size of a crowd,
but due to inexperience the speed had dropped to a literal crawl. Charlie
was forced to move slowly, one handgrip at a time toward the mess.
Somewhere ahead of him was Joe, lost in the traffic jam. Tom had managed
to stay near him but the other three were nowhere to be seen. Charlie
finally arrived at the mess which turned out to look like a
restaurateurs's worst nightmare. Tables and benches were attached to the
floor, the ceiling and to two of the four walls. The back wall, opposite
the entry door was given over entirely to small lockers. The access door
opened on the forward wall which was the only bare surface in the room. A
lot of the tables were already occupied but Charlie saw Joe wave to him
while zealously guarding an empty table. As Charlie sailed over, Joe
extended an arm, assisting him into one of the empty seats. He fastened
his lap harness to insure that he stayed there. Tom, and then the other
three quickly arrived to fill the small table.
Soon all of the seats seemed to be filled and Alex Dunkes entered the
room. All conversation stopped when he entered. Alex allowed his momentum
to carry him across the room, grabbing a handgrip set between the lockers.
He flipped himself around to face the men, using the handgrips to keep
himself in place.
"Ok, listen carefully," he said, speaking as a seasoned drill
sergeant would to new recruits. "I am Alex Dunkes. And like all of you, I
to am an immigrant, not one of the ship's crew. From now on you are no
longer prisoners. You are colonists. Remember that.
I left Earth twelve years ago and since then have worked my way
upward in the hierarchy of the Mars Government. My job is simply to run
the immigrants desk. I ride the ship to and from Earth solely for your
benefit. And yes, I do get well-paid for it." A wave of laughter ran
across the tightly-packed room.
"The door by which you entered the ship, by the registration desk is
the farthest forward you will be allowed to travel under normal
circumstances. This room is the aft limit. Your entire world for the next
two months will fall between those two boundaries.
"If any of you are thinking of escape, think again. In the first
place there is no place to go. We are presently in orbit around Earth and
will soon be boosting out of orbit on our way to Mars. There are no space
suits here for you so you wouldn't get very far. Second, there is no one
among you qualified to operate this ship. We are completely at the mercy
of our captors.
"Once we reach Mars, your past is gone," he continued. "You are no
longer prisoners, as I said earlier, but Mars colonists and as such, all
forms of work are available to you. You will find that there are far more
jobs than there are people to fill them. One thing that I want you to
remember. No one ever returns to Earth. Not even me. I am completely
restricted to the ship while we are in Earth orbit. Even the stations are
off limits to me.
Also, as I said before all forms of employment are open to you. Our
highest official, the Governor of Mars, is also, like yourselves, an
immigrant.
"You will find that in order to move freely about the colonists
section you will need your ID card. You will not be allowed in berthing
quarters not assigned to you unless specifically invited in by one of the
occupants and your cards will not open any door other than your own. At
the end of each cross-corridor you will find a large community room. These
rooms are open to all. There you will find a dispenser of suitable
beverages, none of which, however are alcoholic." Another small wave of
laughter crossed the room.
"This room, the mess is where you will take all of your meals. We are
on a rotational schedule. In your room below the communicator panel you
will see a row of colored lights. The top light, the red one is the
emergency alarm. If this light is on, you will not be allowed to leave
your room. And if you are out of your room when the emergency alarm
sounds, return immediately and seal yourselves into your hammocks. Once
all of you are in the room the door will seal, insuring a completely
airtight seal in the event of a loss of atmosphere.
"The other eight lights are the shift lights. When the blue light is
on you will be able to enter the mess. Your card will not open the door at
other times. There will be three meals a day, each lasting one hour spaced
four hours apart during your 'day'. There will be no meals served during
your 'night'. These small lockers behind me are where you will get your
meals. There is one locker for every man aboard. I suggest that you find
your locker after this meeting so that at your next meal there will be
less confusion.
"In each of the community rooms you will find comp terminals
connected to the ships library. Also in each of the berthing rooms is a
vid, with an extensive library of contemporary programming. You are free
to make use of all of them. If you have any problems I can be found in
room A1. Are there any questions?"
Throughout the room a number of hands were raised. Alex picked one at
random.
"When do we leave for Mars?," asked a young man on the other side of
the room.
"Loading of fuel will be completed in about three hours. The ship
boosts shortly after that." Alex scanned the room, looking for more hands.
All had been withdrawn.
"Then that is all that I have. You are all free to go."
4
Major Caine looked up from his desk, interrupted by a quick knock on
his door. "Come in," he ordered. The door opened and Lieutenant Hadley
entered the large neat office.
"May I have a word with you sir?," he asked.
"Yes Lieutenant, come in and sit down," the major said, waving a hand
toward one of the plush chairs in his large office.
The young Lieutenant settled himself in a comfortable chair placed
near the large ornate desk. "Sir," he began. "As you know I have been
attempting to track down the audio and video records made by the police
the other night at Dr. Quade's house."
"Yes Lieutenant. Continue."
"At first, sir, I thought that I was getting a runaround. I could
find no one who remembered or acnowledged a call being answered by a heavy
cruiser that night. I finally took matters into my own hands and
personally checked the police records.
"All of the heavy cruisers assigned to that precinct house were
accounted for and could easily be proven to be nowhere near the area that
night. I then checked on the whereabouts of every heavy cruiser assigned
to the city. As there are only twenty-four of the machines here, it proved
to be an easy task. There is no way that any one of them could have been
there that evening. They are all accounted for.
"Next, there is no record of a disconnect alarm on the house comp. I
personally had the machine disconnected while waiting at the precinct
house. No alarm was sounded. Sir, I am at a complete loss to explain any
of it."
"Is that all, Lieutenant?"
"No sir, there is one other thing," he said nervously, pausing
between sentence as if reluctant to continue. Finally he said, "Dr. Quade
has disappeared."
"Escaped?," asked Major Caine sharply, focussing his entire attention
on Lieutenant Hadley.
"No sir, not exactly. Just gone." The young man stopped briefly to
order his thoughts before continuing. "Sir, it's as if the man was never
here. There is no record of him arriving, no record of him in any of our
detention cells and no record of him leaving. I have put out an
interdepartmental order to all of our active operatives in an attempt to
locate the man. But so far we have met with no success."
"Who knew of his arrest, Lieutenant?"
"Only those actively involved in the case here sir, but there is no
telling where those police records from the other night have gone, or who
may have seen them," he continued. "Therefore I sent out the locate order
as a priority A7 operation."
"Good. But if you had asked I would have authorized a higher
priority. But the A7 will insure full discretion of our operatives." Major
Caine turned to his personal comp, quickly entering his instructions. As
his aide had said, there seemed to be no record of him on file. "Keep me
informed of whatever you find."
"Yes sir. I will report to you directly as events change."
"Very good Lieutenant. I have much to do here, so please continue
with your efforts," Major Caine said, dismissing the man.
"It had all started a number of months ago," thought Major Caine once
Lieutenant Hadley had departed. He had received an invitation from his
uncle to attend a party in his mountain chalet.
"Efram, I'm glad you could make it," his uncle had said, meeting him
in front of the large estate house. His limo had been directed over to a
grassy lot filled with similar machines, and had he been able to see the
private airfield behind the house he would have noted the large number of
private aircraft belonging to the distinguished visitors from farther
away.
The party promised to be a who's who of planetary dignitaries, and
Major Caine was at a loss to explain his presence.
His uncle escorted him into the front room where they stopped briefly
at the top of a short flight of stairs to accept drinks from a liveried
waiter stationed there. "Actually," his uncle continued when they were
well away from any possible ears. "You are here by invitation. One other
than mine, that is.Бx x A ББ Р Р F БMajor Caine masked his confusion
carefully. "By whom?," he asked simply.
"Later," came the cryptic response. "Just be sure that you are in the
blue room at six o'clock tonight." The older man stopped walking and
turned to face his nephew. "Believe me, son, this is important." Major
Caine nodded but said nothing as his uncle left to rejoin his guests.
He tried to enjoy the party but quickly realized that he simply did
not fit into the distinguished company and he remained near an outside
wall, attempting to stay inconspicuous.
Finally six o'clock approached and he quietly made his exit, arriving
at the bedroom known as the blue room by a rather circuitous route. He was
familiar with the chalet and this room in particular because this was the
room that he always stayed in when he visited here. At a few minutes after
six, the room's outer door opened and his uncle entered., "Sir," he began,
only to be silenced by a sharp gesture.
A quick silent inspection insured that the room was empty. He then
removed a small device from his pocket and made another slow inspection of
the room. Major Caine recognized it as a portable listening device
detector. Then, with a conspiratorial smile on his face, his uncle stepped
out the room.
The interconnecting door from the adjoining room opened and the
Chairman of the World Senate stepped in. "Sir, I..." Major Caine began,
jumping to his feet.
"Sit, please," Mahjid Bey interrupted, sliding a second chair over
close to the one Major Caine had selected. "Efram," he continued, after
sitting. "May I call you that?" He asked. Before Major Caine could speak,
Mahjid Bey quickly continued. "I needed to talk with you quietly,
unofficially and I don't wish anyone to learn of this meeting." His
English was flawless, spoken with a British accent and he spoke three
other languages fluently.
He had been born into an upper class Indian family and received his
primary and secondary schooling in Britain, attending Oxford after
completing his secondary schooling at Eton. He had finished his studies at
the very exclusive and prestigious Switzerland Academy of Sciences.
"I do not know how long I will be able to stay away from the party
without being missed, so let me come right to the point," he said,
immediately after sitting. "Are you familiar with the economic situation
of the Earth today?" Seeing the puzzled look on Major Caine's face he
continued. "I thought not. When you get a chance look into it. But let me
say this. The drain on the economy by the Mars colony and the Asteroid
belt is enormous. Unemployment is rising, and the value of money is
dropping. Factories are closing due to lack of raw materials and more and
more people are falling below the median poverty level. Financially the
economy is a mess.
"I do, however have a plan. One that nearly all of my fellow Senators
most assuredly would not agree with. And that is what I need you for. I
have been aware of what you have been doing with Internal Security for
some time now."
Mahjid Bey raised his hand, stifling Major Caine's protests. "If I
had disagreed with your policies you would now be under arrest, not here
today meeting with me. There are times when a leader needs an organization
capable of operating outside of the government's stated policies." Major
Caine knew by that statement that if anything went wrong, he, not Mahjid
Bey would be thrown to the wolves.
"Have you ever heard of a man named Dr. Charles Quade?" Again Mahjid
Bey quickly continued, not waiting for Major Caine to speak. "Theoretical
chemist specializing in synthetic polymer chains. His researches led to
the recent breakthroughs in ultrastrong molecular filament synthesis."
"The beanstalk," exclaimed Major Caine, beginning to catch on.
"Exactly," answered Mahjid Bey. The beanstalk can be the answer to
the entire crisis. At the moment I have the majority of the Senate behind
me, but as the economy worsens I may loose that support. This then, is
what I want you to do."
"The Beanstalk," thought Major Caine as he rode homeward in the back
of his limo. Actually not much more than a superlong, 30,000 mile cable.
It would start from an Asteroidal rock in geosynch orbit, extend down
through the atmosphere and terminate somewhere on the surface of the
Earth. The new ultrastrong molecular filaments made the whole project
possible. Economically it was the best way to lift materials out of the
gravity well of Earth. But expensive. Very expensive. It would make
obsolete the fleet of shuttles now serving Leo base and eventually Leo
base itself. But until it was operating it too would be another huge drain
on the Earth's already strained economy.
"Yes," thought Major Caine. "We definitely need it, but not in the
way most people think we do."
Slowly the colonists had been divided up into shuttle-sized groups
and dropped down to Mars to be distributed among the domes. The trip down
to the surface was a fast but otherwise uneventful drop. Mars had two
large ship-ports, one by the northern icecap and one by the southern. What
little traffic took place between the hemispheres was accomplished using
the shuttles, the colonists finding it safer, faster and easier than
building long roads.
Some roads however had been built. A long road circumnavigated each
icecap, linking all of the domes together. Inside each dome, most of the
available space was taken up by the large algae vats and what space was
left over was divided between housing and farming, each dome raising fresh
vegetables and fruits of various kinds. Each dome had picked a specialty
and trading their surpluses from dome to dome along the belt roads.
Each dome from the beginning had tried to supply all of it's own food
requirements by growing and trading and all of them had achieved
self-sufficiency long ago. But they all were burdened by the requirements
of the asteroid belt, sending out all of their excess produce to try to
feed the hungry miners.
The dome housing the Martian government always received the most
desirable of the new colonists. A list of job priorities was kept and
continually updated and all of the new colonist's qualifications were
matched and then each was assigned a priority number, the top colonists
arriving on the first shuttles down to the surface. Charlie, hidden in his
new guise as Abe Fortas was on the first shuttle down to the surface.
"Come in, come on in," said Lawrence Brady, the current governor of
Mars. He was seated at a large synthowood desk that took up the bulk of
the room in the small office. The small room was paneled in strips of
contrasting synthowood and behind the large ornate desk was a large
picture built into the wall to look like a window. It currently showed a
view of an Earth beach scene. White clouds drifted slowly across an
unusually blue sky. A few sea gulls could be seen winging swiftly over the
surface of the rolling surf. There were no people in sight but tracks
could be seen on the pale sand. If Charlie sat there long enough he would
probably see one or two wander through.
The Governor saw him watching the picture. "That's a compix," he
explained "Very expensive but well worth it," he explained. "Everyone on
Mars wants one and there are a few small ones available occasionally, but
this one is the largest."
Charlie was familiar with them although he himself had never owned
one. On Earth they were not really expensive and owned mostly by the
middle-class population. They could be programmed to hold dozens of
different scenes and the owner could change from one to another as his
mood changed. "How did you get it?," he asked curiously, wondering why
that much money was allowed to be tied up in art.
"That's the beautiful part," Governor Brady explained gleefully. "It
was part of a scam dreamed up by the bank, and I, or actually the governor
before me, beat them at their own game."
"What did you do?," continued Charlie.
"The way the scam worked was, the bank would sell it to a colonist
for a fair price. At least a fair price out here on Mars. Then later, when
their debt ratio rose too high, the bank would seize it and resell it,
applying the sale price against his debt. They in essence kept selling the
same picture to anyone who had the cash at the time to buy it. In the four
years they had it, they made a lot of money from it."
"So how did you beat them?," pushed Charlie, interested in the
outcome of the story.
"My predecessor bought it with his first years salary," the governor
continued, enjoying any chance to show off to the newcomer. "He then
donated it to the Martian Government. It now is not owned by any one
individual and there is now no one to seize it from. The bank was rather
upset when it happened, and have since learned their lesson. So far they
have not imported any more of them to continue the scam.
"Anyway, that scene is one of my favorites," he continued. "It
reminds me of the beach where I used to vacation as a small boy. Sometimes
I like to sit here, thinking that this is a beach cottage and I am back on
Earth again." He said nothing for a moment, lost in his own daydreams.
"But sit," he said at last, bringing himself out of his reverie. "Make
yourself comfortable." Charlie sat in one of the chairs while the governor
continued. "I shall miss it when I finally leave office," he explained.
"Although I have been unopposed in the last three elections."
Charlie raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Unopposed?," he asked in
confusion.
"Here on Mars," explained the Governor, "the only time anyone runs
against an elected official is if the population is dissatisfied with the
way he is doing his job. We tend to leave the status quo if the system is
working."
"But I thought that the system wasn't working," Charlie shot back.
"No, actually it works rather well. And everyone realizes that there
is little that can be done about the financial systems set up against
them. Which means that very little is blamed on the governor's office."
"So what you are saying is that it is difficult to do a bad job?"
"Yes," said Governor Brady with a wide smile. "My predecessor lost
his job by overindulging in what few luxuries we get from Earth and got
reassigned to one of the Mars freighters. I inherited the job because I
was the second in command. And here, the one person that has to run for
office is the man that already holds that office. So far, no one wants it
bad enough to try for it."
"But it doesn't sound as if you are unhappy," said Charlie.
"No, no I actually like being the Governor and the advantages of the
office. But enough of that," he said finally. "Let me get to the reason
you are here, Abe. I don't see too many people but I do like to interview
the top colonists, the ones who we feel are qualified for any of the few
really important jobs. The cream of the crop, so to speak."
"I'm not sure that I understand," Charlie answered with a puzzled
voice.
"You see, we keep a list of jobs that are available and balance the
colonists qualifications against it. The top matches are brought down
first. That is why you and the others were on the first shuttle.
"So what you are doing then," said Charlie with a smile, "is offering
me a job?"
"Yes, A job. That's exactly what I am doing," Governor Brady said
excitedly. "Look, there is an ore processing lab on Ceres that collects
crystalline formations. Locked up inside a lot of them are a number of
rare-earth elements. We are trying to develop methods of extracting those
elements from the crystalline matrices. What we need is an easier and
cheaper way to do the extracting. I believe that with your background it
is a job that you can handle. As a mining engineer with a chemistry
background it seems to me that it is just what you were trained for."
Charlie smiled to himself. Whoever had set up this personna had done
their homework well. It was doubtful that the governor was a member of the
inner circle of conspirators. He probably knew nothing of what was really
going on or who he really was.
"So what do you think?," asked Governor Brady, taking Charlie's
silence as a sign that he was thinking it over.
"Yes, it sounds like something I would like to try. And you say it is
out on Ceres," he asked. "How would I get there?"
"Yes, yes, Ceres. And as for transportation there is a ship in now
from the asteroids and she goes by the name of the Runner. She dropped off
a load of platinum ores on Deimos and is being loaded now with supplies to
go back. She does have a limited amount of room for passengers and she
leaves tomorrow afternoon. Mars time," the Governor added. "And, if you
want, you can be on her."
"Ok," said Charlie laughing. "You got yourself a chemist."
"Then it's settled," said the governor, keying his com panel. "Kati,"
he said, speaking into the unit, "would you come in here please?"
A tall blonde woman entered the small office. Pretty, although the
rigors of a hard life could be seen lined in her face. "We're all done
here," Governor Brady announced. "Would you be so kind as to show him to
his quarters?"
Charlie stood and followed her out into the small antechamber just
outside Governor Brady's office, where he was met by a young woman. "Judy
here," said Kati, "has volunteered to show you around the dome. Unless you
object, that is," she added quickly.
Judy stepped forward, sticking out a small hand. "Hi," she said in a
soft pleasant voice as she shook Charlie's hand.
"No," said Charlie with a smile. "I don't mind at all." Judy was a
young woman, small, not far into her twenties and weighing no more than
fifty kilo's, Charlie guessed. But she had a lot of curves packed into her
small frame.
"Come on," she said impatiently. "How about a quick tour of the dome?"
"Sure," said Charlie as he followed her out into the main corridor.
"This hall," she explained, "runs all of the way around the dome. All
of the offices and living quarters back up against the outer wall while
the center of the dome is taken up by our farm." As they walked along the
hall, Judy pointed out various features of the dome. "This is the dining
facility," she explained, pointing out one of the larger rooms. "And the
living quarters are farther along the hall." She then opened a door on the
inner wall of the hall, opening out onto a huge open area.
"This is the farm," she said, leading him into a small orchard. "We
have lights here to simulate the Earth's natural light to help everything
grow. We raise peaches, carrots and spinach here."
The trees were small but bore evidence of loving attention. "We are
now entering early spring so it is too early to see the buds," she
continued. "But later when they flower we all will help pollinate them.
"No bees?," asked Charlie.
"No insects at all," she said. "At least not in this dome. We do have
some on order but we haven't gotten them yet. The carrots and spinach are
easier to tend to," she finished.
On the far side of the orchard were arrays of tanks. Hundreds of
them, as far as Charlie could tell. "Those are the Algae tanks," she said.
"They take up most of the space in the dome and yield seventy-five to
eighty percent of our crop."
She led him past the tanks and out into a small cultivated area of
recently turned earth. "This is where we grow our carrots and spinach."
Beyond the small plot Charlie could see similar small plots in
various stages of growth.
"Since they are not a recurring plant, we can grow them year-round
and be assured of having fresh vegetables all the time. The surplus," she
said. "We trade around the belt road to other domes for their surpluses."
"What is your job here?," asked Charlie curiously.
"I'm a hydroponics technician," she said. "I'm not really very
important yet but then, that's why I usually get assigned to showing
newcomers around."
They stepped through another door and out into the main corridor.
"These are the living spaces," she explained, indicating the large number
of doors set in niches in the outside wall. Charlie followed her across
the hall and through one of the doors. It led into a small room that
Charlie assumed was hers, due to the feminine touches throughout the room.
"You can use the 'fresher' in through that door," she said, pointing
to a small enclosed cubicle. Once inside, Charlie found a real shower. He
quickly stripped off his clothing and stepped into the stall, planning on
enjoying the first real shower he had had since leaving Earth.
The low gravity of Mars caused a lot more mist than he was accustomed
to but he quickly adjusted to it. The door of the 'fresher' cubicle opened
briefly and a small lithe form slipped into the shower with him.
"Doctor Quade," Judy said. "I am your contact here," she said to
Charlie's surprise. "The shower assures privacy," she continued. "I have
never found any listening devices in my room yet, but why take unnecessary
chances?"
Charlie was having trouble keeping his attention focussed on what she
was saying but reluctantly tore his gaze from her young body. "You must be
aboard the cargo ship tomorrow and on your way safely to the belt before
the switch is discovered. Everyone aboard will be friends, and once aboard
you can relax your disguise."
"One thing," asked Charlie. "Has anything happened to the real Abe
Fortas?"
"I don't know," admitted Judy. "They only tell me what I need to know
and no more. But I hope someone is taking care of that problem. He knew
the risks before accepting the assignment. In fact, we all know the risks.
The one thing that we are all in agreement on is that in this case the end
justifies the means. As a result we are all willing to face death because
otherwise we are all dead anyway. This way at least, we are trying to
protect ourselves."
"True," admitted Charlie, admiring her patriotic attitude. "We are
all here for the same thing. But you don't mind risking everything on
trust alone?," he continued. "Not knowing what the overall plans are?"
"We all know that the belt is on our side and that the Earth Senate
is not. We trust the belt when they say that they will do whatever is
necessary to protect us. Earth has not given us any real assurance of
protection. And as result of that we no longer feel obligated to Earth, at
least no more than they can force us to be," her voice raising in passion
to compete with the noise that the shower was making.
"Calm down," said Charlie soothingly, noticing with pleasure that her
nipples became as red as her cheeks did. "Will I be the only passenger
aboard the ship?"
"That I do not know," Judy said, after her breathing had settled down
to normal. "Although I believe I am not the only operative here, I know of
no others. I get all my instructions from a trader when he comes in from
the belt," she said as she picked up a bar of soap. "While we are here we
might as well take advantage of the situation," she said, lathering up
Charlie's body."
"One more thing that I am curious about," he asked. "How can you
afford the luxury of real showers if water is so precious here?"
"Everything is recycled," she said. All of the water from the showers
go directly to the purifiers. "And the one thing that we have plenty of is
power. Every dome is supplied by sixteen square miles of photocells, laid
out in the desert south of the dome.
"Sixteen miles?," asked Charlie surprised. "Isn't that a bit
excessive?"
"No," she said. "Each dome must have enough capacity to supply all of
it's own power requirements plus that of both domes on each side of it.
That way we are always assured of power, no matter what disaster should
occur."
"Smart," admitted Charlie, admiring the engineer that laid out the
system.
"That is what is holding back the development of other domes. The
photocell farm must be completed before work is started on the dome
itself."
"I see," charlie said. "One more question if I may. How long would it
take to check someone out? A man I met on the trip out would probably be a
good asset."
"Quite a while," answered Judy. "The only way I could do that is to
pass the message through my contact and then back to Earth. Since I won't
see him for a while now, we are talking about two Earth years at least,
and maybe more. Why?"
"A friend," said Charlie. "I met him on the trip out and I got the
feeling that he could be trusted."
"If he isn't on our lists already, there is nothing that I can do,"
she said, scrubbing Charlie's back. When she was done, she turned him
around to face her, her gaze wandering approvingly up and down his naked
body, and noticed that he was not having much success keeping his mind off
of her body. "We can talk later," she said, reaching up and kissing him
passionately.
"I will take you down to the shuttle pad in the morning," she said as
they stood by the side of Judy's bed. "Tonight however you can sleep here
with me, if you wish."
Charlie's grin told her as much as his words did. "I'd like that if
you don't mind sharing your bed with an old man," he told her.
"I think I could get to enjoy it," she teased. "If you think you
could keep up with me, that is.
Charlie showed her just how well he could keep up with her and later
that evening the pair wandered down to the cafeteria to eat, finally
ending up back at her rooms for the night.
The next morning Judy escorted him to the outer airlock where there
was a transport waiting. "This is the morning bus," she explained. "It
travels between the two closest domes and the shuttleport daily, and
farther when needed." She gave him a quick kiss before continuing. "Just
tell the driver where you want to go and he will get you there."
Nothing more was said between the two of them as Charlie entered the
airlock. He cycled through to the access tunnel connecting the dome to the
bus and gave gave her a quick wave goodbye through the window.
She waved back then turned and disappeared back along the corridor,
dissapearing from sight while Charlie made his way carefully over to the
bus and found himself a seat near the driver. He didn't look back as the
bus pulled away from the dome and out onto the north polar highway.
This shuttle was completely different from the one that had lifted
him from Earth. It was set in a shallow pit with the engine module down
below sight. A platform had been extended across the open area of the pit
to the body of the ship. Since Mars gravity was about one fifth that of
Earth, Rocket shuttles could be used quite efficiently and this shuttle
looked much more like a small space ship than an atmospheric shuttle. The
Martian atmosphere was too thin to require much streamlining and was not
nearly thick enough for an efficient lifting wing.
Charlie stepped through the large door and into the lower deck of the
boxy shuttle. Inside the door was a wide open space with tie down points
arranged across the floor, walls and ceiling. This large compartment was
used for the transporting of large cargoes to and from orbit. There were a
few large crates present, but Charlie assumed that the shuttle had mostly
carried goods and equipment just brought in by the Oppenheimer.
The second deck lay through another airlock and up a small ladder in
the far wall of the big compartment. He quickly climbed the ladder and
once up on the next deck he found a series of compartments and lockers
where smaller items could be stored.
Through another door was the small passenger's compartment. Charlie
entered and quickly found a seat. He was briefly interrupted by one of the
crew who poked his head briefly in for a look around.
"Oh," the man said, somewhat surprised. "Sorry I'm late, but the bus
arrived a bit early. I expected to find you down below in the cargo hold."
"Sorry," said Charlie, not sure if he had broken some shipboard rule.
"No problem," the man continued. "Just saves us some time. All
strapped in?," he asked.
"Yes," answered Charlie. "All set."
"Good," he said as he left the room. "Stay in your seat," he called
back. "We lift as soon as I get back topside," as his voice faded in the
distance.
The boost was as easy as it was disorienting. Since there were no
outside windows Charlie could not see the desolate Martian landscape as it
dropped away below the rapidly accelerating ship. The pilot soon matched
orbit and then smoothly dropped down to the surface of Deimos to land with
scarcely a bump at the closest shuttle pad to the much larger belt ship
that was waiting there.
The crewman reappeared soon after landing and assisted Charlie into
one of the space suits near the passenger compartment. "Ever been in a
suit before?," came a voice over the suit radio?"
"No, never," admitted Charlie.
"Been in space before?," came another quick question.
"Yes," Charlie answered. "And I've had zero gee experience but never
in a suit."
"Well, low gee is different than zero gee, but not much, and contrary
to what you might have heard, you really cannot jump off of Deimos. Maybe
a couple of orbits at best but you will always come down, so if you lose
your grip, don't panic, just enjoy the view."
Charlie nodded but said nothing, waiting for the crewman to continue.
"Outside the shuttle," the man said, the crew of the orecarrier
Runner are setting up a hand line between the two ships. It will help you
navigate over to her. And don't get any ideas of being an acrobat," he
warned. "Like I said it isn't like zero gee and I don't want to have to
chase you all over the landscape, ok?"
"Ok," agreed Charlie. "I'll try and behave."
He was led down to the main airlock and out onto the surface of
Deimos. Here, he saw the rope that had been attached to a handgrip on the
shuttle and over to another handgrip on the runner.
"That," thought Charlie, "Was what a ship should look like." Although
still boxy and never designed for operation in air, she was the first true
space ship Charlie had seen that had a complete outer skin. Since she was
designed primarily for hauling ores, all of her cargo space was enclosed
for carrying large amounts of loose material. At this time her main holds
lay partially empty, her off-loading being completed before Charlie had
arrived. But she was being reloaded with food and manufactured items
destined for the belt colonies.
Charlie found the trip across interesting and he discovered that,
instead of walking he traveled in a series of short hops, with the rope
stopping his upward travel and quickly returning him to the surface. He
also soon discovered that if he flexed his knees on landing he stayed on
the surface with little bounce-back. It took him about ten minutes to
traverse the relatively short distance to the larger ship. Once across he
located a handgrip and swung himself into the open airlock. He turned to
watch the crewman follow him, who was using a much different technique to
cross. He simply jumped, aiming at an imaginary point above the airlock
Charlie was in, relying on the weak Deimos gravity to deflect his course
enough to hit the airlock squarely. At the last moment he stretched out
his arms and caught himself on the sides of the airlock, grabbing the two
handgrips located there and flipped into the airlock alongside of Charlie,
still waiting there for him.
After cycling in through the airlock, Charlie was assisted in
removing his suit by a second crewman waiting by the entry. Charlie handed
the suit back to the first man who then reentered the airlock and returned
to the shuttle.
"Showoff," muttered the man as he led Charlie away from the airlock.
"Excuse me?," asked Charlie, confused.
"Him," said the crewman. "That's not the usual way we cross, but he
was trying to impress you," he said crossly. "Good way to get himself
hurt. Or you hurt, for that matter." The man shook his head in disgust as
he led Charlie along a short passage and into another passenger's
compartment.
Charlie blinked in surprise, fighting to control his expressions and
emotions. Seated in one of the seats was Joe! Charlie finally nodded
briefly to him and found a seat back near the entry hatch, attempting to
stay away from Joe. Charlie was the last of the scheduled passengers for
the Runner and settled into the silent personna that Abe had built up on
the trip out to Mars.
Soon, another crew member entered the small compartment. "We will be
lifting in about an hour or so," he announced. "There is a small galley
across the passage that you can use if you wish." You have free run of the
place, just make sure that it is clean afterwards.
"You all should be back in your seats for lift, and the captain will
give you ample warning before blast off, although he will use so little
acceleration that it really isn't necessary." He pointed to a com panel
and continued. "You may use the view screen if you wish. Channel seven is
tuned to an outside viewer and should give an interesting picture of
Deimos as we depart. I have to leave now, I am on engine duty, but before
I go are there any questions?"
He saw that there were none so he pushed off into the passageway and
disappeared into the ship.
7
The other three did little in the next hour, except getting to know
each other better. Charlie was especially grateful for Abe's stony-faced
silence, using it to draw away from Joe and the other two men.
Finally they felt the rumblings of the powerful engines as the ship
lifted slowly from Deimos. And not long after lift, the door into the
compartment opened and the ship's captain stepped into the small room.
"Good day, gentlemen," he began. "I am Shaun O'Cassidy of the Runner.
Before we start, I think that introductions are in order." He sat down in
one of the vacant seats, facing the four men before continuing. "We are
all going to be here together for quite a few weeks and will probably be
working together for quite some time after that." He pointed to Joe. "You
might as well start. Name and special qualifications that might be useful."
"Joe Francelli," he began. "Mechanical engineer specializing in
zero-gee construction techniques. I am also a qualified orbital pilot."
Captain O'Cassidy raised an eyebrow. "Pilot you say? Come up to the
bridge later and we'll check you out on this old tub. I won't let you
stand watch but I can list you as an emergency backup pilot if you are
qualified, as you claim to be.
"Thank you," said Joe gratefully. "I'd like that." He knew what
Captain O'Cassidy's endorsement in his pilot's log would mean.
"Ok, you're next," Captain O'Cassidy said, pointing to the next man.
"Gorge Scapata," he said, speaking with a thick accent.
Joe interrupted, speaking in a clear Castillian Spanish and the two
men exchanged a few sentences before Joe turned to the rest of the group.
"He says that he is a metallurgist specializing in photovoltaic
materials. He speaks little English but understands much more than he
speaks."
Captain O'Cassidy nodded his thanks to Joe before pointing out the
third man.
This man spoke in a pleasant Oxford English although his features
showed him to be of oriental descent. "Xaio Xien," he said. "I taught
celestial astrogation at the National University of China to new space
pilots."
"Thank you," said the Captain to the three of them. "But before we
get to the last of our passengers I want to say that among us there are no
secrets. You all have been contacted by various members of the underground
and you have all agreed to lend your many talents to help in the coming
fight." He nodded toward Charlie. "And with that, Doctor, the floor is
yours."
Joe looked at Charlie with curiosity. "Finally," he thought, "We will
get to the bottom of the mystery."
"Before I begin, there is one thing that I would like to do." Charlie
quickly removed the two cheek inserts which greatly relieved the
discomfort on his upper gums. He then nodded briefly to Joe with a smile.
"My name is not Tom," he began. "Nor is it Charlie Joiner." He tipped
an imaginary hat to Joe "My real name is Charles Quade!"
"Quade," exclaimed Joe, beginning to understand. "Weren't you in the
news a couple of years ago?"
"Last year, actually when I completed the research on synthetic
polymer chains.
"I remember you now," cut in Joe again. "You're the beanstalk guy!,"
he exclaimed. "So what the hell are you doing here?"
Charlie turned to Captain O'Cassidy. "How much of the plan do you
know and how much am I free to reveal here?," he asked. "I need to know
how much might get out when we reach Ceres."
"I don't know a lot about the plans or what is really going on but I
do know that we are not going to Ceres," explained Shaun. "We are all
going directly to Alpha base. While we are on our way there our deaths
will be reported through official channels. Another ore carrier, identical
to this one was involved in a collision with an asteroid a number of years
ago," he continued. "And we have been saving it for an occasion such as
this one. We have switched places and it will be towed into Ceres,
masquerading as the Runner. So, Doctor, whatever you say here will never
leave Alpha base.
"Ok, that's what I need to know. The plan, gentlemen, although far
from simple is this. We are going to steal the beanstalk!"
"You're going to do WHAT?," exclaimed Joe with a look of disbelief on
his face. "How in God's name are you going to steal a structure
thirty-thousand miles long?"
"Actually, we are not going to steal the beanstalk," Charlie said
with a smile, enjoying the shocked looks on the faces of the men
surrounding him. We are just going to steal the fabricator." He paused,
letting the implications sink into the minds of the men before continuing.
"You see gentlemen, the factory complex on the moon is now in the
process of building the fabricator and then will be integrating it with
its computer. It will then be stored on the lunar surface, with the rest
of it's component parts until needed on the Rock. The synthesis chamber
however is the key component. At this time the belt cannot produce one but
they do have the capacity to build the rest of the fabricator."
"So what you are saying," interrupted Captain O'Cassidy," is that if
we steal this fabricator thing, we will have the means to build a
beanstalk?"
"Yes, that's it in a nutshell," agreed Charlie.
"Simple," commented Xaio. "No problem at all. So just how do you plan
on achieving this simple plan?"
"At this time, work is being done on a large stony asteroid. Workers
are attaching engines to it so that it can be dropped down into Earth's
orbit. There it will be placed in a stable geo-synch orbit to be used as
an anchor for the Beanstalk. All of the fabricator parts will then be sent
up from the Moon by the big mass-drivers, and then assembled on the Rock."
"So that's what the rock is," interjected Captain O'Cassidy. "We've
been hearing rumors about it but no one has been able to get any
information about it or where it was."
"Where it is is not that important, since we do not plan on
interrupting their work there. I do however have all of the timetables for
the Rock's arrival in Earth orbit and also when the fabricator will be
delivered to it. All we have to do is be there and pick it up in
Earth-lunar orbit before it gets out to the Rock."
"That's all?," said Joe incredulously. "I hope that the plan is a bit
more polished than that."
"I really can't tell you about that," said Charlie. "All I know is
the basics. I do know that I will have to assemble the fabricator once we
get it and I am carrying all of the timetables with me, hypnotically
implanted of course. There are supposed to be people out at Alpha base
working on all the various aspects of the plan."
"Great," commented Joe glumly, not sure whether he had thrown in with
certifiable loonies or not. "Just great."
Captain O'cassidy cut the discussion short. "I'm afraid I have got to
get back up to the bridge," he said, flipping over to the door leading
into the passage. "Joe," he said. "When you get settled in, come up and
see me on the bridge. We'll start getting you qualified to fly one of
these things." He then pushed off toward the entrance to the access tube
leading to the bridge and, with a quick wave, disappeared upward, heading
back to the bridge.
Charlie and Joe moved into one of the small, vacant staterooms while
the other two occupied a second. "What I don't understand," said Joe once
they were alone, "Is why someone would want to steal the beanstalk in the
first place.
"Ah," said Charlie. "Now you have hit on the interesting point." He
strapped himself into one of the seats before continuing. "You see, the
fortunes of the solar system are changing. The Earth is in a downward
spiral into financial ruin and runaway inflation. She cannot afford to
build a second beanstalk and it's doubtful that she will even complete the
one being started now."
"But why?," asked Joe. "Surely the Senate sees the advantages of it?
After all, they aren't blind, or stupid for that matter, are they?"
"You Joe, are an engineer, not a politician. You live in a completely
different world than they do. As the money becomes more and more worthless
all of the scientific and engineering projects that require large amounts
of money will come to a stop. And one of the largest will be the
beanstalk."
"I guess I can see that," admitted Joe reluctantly.
"Good," said Charlie. "Add to that the amount of money and resources
that the belt drains off."
"But they need the raw materials we supply them!," exclaimed Joe.
"Without the belt they will never rebuild the economy."
"It is true that they need a source of resources. But what if there
is a cheaper and easier source of materials? What then happens to the
Asteroid colonies?"
"Where?," asked Joe quietly, not yet understanding what Charlie
alluded to concerning the fate of the belt colonists.
"Mercury," answered Charlie. "The techniques have recently been
developed perfecting robotic and remote controlled mining techniques. On
Mercury today, one man can run an entire mining section. At present there
are about one hundred men on Mercury and they have the capability of
outproducing the million plus colonists on Mars and in the belt. Within
five years all of Earth's requirements will be met by the Mercury mines."
"So what you are saying is that Earth will no longer need the belt?
Is that it? That all of the colonists will finally get to go back to
Earth?" Wishing to believe but forcing Charlie to tell him the truth.
"That is what Earth wishes to believe, that the belt is unnecessary,"
said Charlie. But in actuality, Earth will always need the belt. And the
colonists she is willing to abandon to die out here."
Joe said nothing at first, choking his emoptions back. All that
betrayed his innermost feelings was a single small tear forming at the
corner of one eye. "So what are we going to do about it?," he said finally
in a subdued voice.
"The first step is to make the belt completely self-sufficient.
"That's a tall order, Charlie," said Joe. "So far, only Mars has been
able to do so, and there is no way at the moment that she can carry the
belt alone. How do you expect it to be done?"
"There are a number of different schemes underway now, but the first
and foremost revolves around the beanstalk."
"Just what are we going to do with it if we get it?," asked Joe.
"That's the easy part. We put it up on Europa."
"Why there?," asked Joe, confusion coloring his face.
"Water," answered Charlie. "Water and ammonia. The colonies on Mars
have enough water to supply their needs but the belt still gets most of
hers from Earth. Plus nitrogen for fertilizers. Europa can supply all of
the water for reaction mass, air, and hydroponics. With luck we can be
self-sufficient by the time Earth cuts us off. But it all requires a
working beanstalk."
"That's a tall order," said Joe. "There are well over a million
people out here. Are you willing to gamble their lives on the heist of the
century?"
"I agree that it is a long shot. But we have no choice, and we do
have an important edge. There are some very powerful people on our side
back on Earth who are farsighted enough to see what a beanstalk on Europa
would mean. And they are willing to jeopardize their careers to insure
that vision comes true."
"Other than basic survival, what else are you trying to accomplish?"
"First, with an adequate supply of water, food and air, we can build
up the production capacity of the belt. Then," he continued, "drawing more
and more from Europa as a source of reaction mass for the atomic engines,
we will finally have the capability of launching the first interstellar
star ships," Charlie said quietly. "That, Joe is what we are gambling our
lives for. Not survival, not revenge but for the first interstellar ships
mankind builds. And they will be built. This is the last true frontier of
the solar system and this is where mankind either pushes out to the galaxy
or crawls back to Earth for ever!"
"Well, I'll be damned," said Joe admiringly. "And this plan comes
from Earth?"
"The ability to pull it off is up to us," said Charlie. "They are
simply giving us the opportunity. A lot of powerful organizations have
been penetrated. And those that have not been penetrated have had their
computers turned against them. How do you think I got off Earth?"
"I have no idea,"admitted Joe. "I would have assumed that the Senate
would want you where they could keep their eye on you, and not allow you
to flit off into outer space whenever you wished."
"You are right, and this is how it was accomplished. First, data was
entered into Internal Security's computer system telling them that I was a
wanted man and to pick me up to stand trial. It was very carefully timed
so that I would be on the last colonist ship and safely out of Earth's
reach before the breach was discovered. The data was next changed to give
me a new name and that I had already stood trial and been found guilty. I
was then sent to Africa and up to the Oppenheimer. By the time that
Internal Security discovered what had happened the Oppenheimer had already
left orbit."
"But surely Internal security found out about the switch immediately,"
said Joe. "They aren't that easy to fool."
"Under normal circumstances, you would be right," continued Charlie.
"However, they were misdirected. They were given a mystery to work on to
deceive them long enough for the Oppenheimer to leave. That same
misdirection caused them to believe I was still on Earth instead of in
space. It gave us the time we needed to get far enough away to make
retrieval difficult."
"You must have powerful friends," said Joe. "But surely all Internal
Security had to do was send a message to Mars and pick you up as soon as
the Oppenheimer arrived."
"That part was taken care of by a man named Abe Fortas, or Tom, as
you came to know him. He is a high-ranking member of the underground, the
REAL underground, not the one everyone knows about, the one controlled by
Internal Security. He switched places with me just before we left the ship
on Deimos and it was him that they picked up, not me."
"What will happen to him when they find out about the switch?," asked
Joe.
"Hopefully, he has already disappeared. Means were placed at his
disposal, and if he was able to take advantage of them, he is already
beyond their reach. And he was one of the best agents the underground had,
so I must assume he is safe. As it is, I owe him a debt I can never repay."
"Is that why we are supposed to be dead?," asked Joe, understanding
more and more.
"Yes, exactly. Tom, who is actually Abe Fortas cannot hope to
maintain the masquerade long. But eventually he will have to disappear as
Dr. Quade. And when they realize they have lost the trail again, they will
backtrack, and believe me, they are relentless, if nothing else. However,
all of their investigations will stop with the wreck of the Runner and our
bodies."
"Bodies?," asked Joe sharply. "Surely they didn't kill anyone simply
to provide covers for us, did they?"
"No, of course not," said Charlie quickly. "But there are a number of
deaths, both accidental and natural every day. Bodies of the right size
and shape have been saved for this purpose. In fact, Alpha Base keeps a
sizeable morgue frozen, waiting for when a body should be needed. It is an
unfortunate thing that this type of cover is needed but everything must be
done to guarantee the proper outcome. And you don't have to worry about
positive identification, either. If you have ever seen a victim of a
combination of explosive decompression and a heavy meteor strike, you
would know that identification is impossible. Earth will have to accept
the evidence that they are given."
Joe, thinking of the few accidents he had witnessed while working on
the big wheels said nothing but nodded his agreement.
"What will happen to Tom? I mean Abe?," asked Joe finally."
"Hopefully he is safe in his own identity and on his way to the Rock.
There he will assume a normal working position and ride the Rock into
Earth orbit. If we can extract him from there we will do so. If he wants
to come back to the belt, that is. If not, he can take care of himself."
Charlie stopped briefly before continuing in a subdued voice. "He, like
all of us know the risks and voluntarily accepted them. We all understand
that the fortune of all colonists in the belt is riding of the shoulders
of a few. And we are ready to accept the risks as necessary. It won't be
long before you may be asked to take the same risks and you will not be
thought badly of if you do decide to back out."
"To be honest, I really can't say yet where my allegiances lie. You
certainly have given me a lot to think about though. I hope you don't mind
if I watch and learn more before I commit myself yet?"
Charlie smiled and clasped Joe around the shoulders. "Not at all. In
fact you would have been suspect if you jumped whole-heartedly into this
with no thought at all. Take all of the time that you need, although I
suspect the captain will not allow you much freedom around the ship
without some sort of commitment."
"I can accept that," said Joe. "At the moment however, I wish to
concentrate on learning how to navigate this ship, but I will be thinking
over what you have said," admitted Joe. Neither man said anything more as
Joe left the stateroom and climbed upward toward the bridge.
There he found Captain O'cassidy seated at the command console.
"What's the matter, son?," Shaun asked. "You look as if something is
eating at you."
"I'm not sure," said Joe reluctantly. I was talking with Charlie just
now and he filled me in on a few of the details of this operation."
"So what's wrong? Are you having second thoughts?"
"Yes," admitted Joe. "And third and fourth also. It's just that all
of a sudden I am not sure of anything. If we are so right and Earth is
wrong, how can we order a man to kill himself? I believe that Earth would
do that but not us. Doesn't that make us just as bad as them?," asked Joe
quietly.
"Now wait a minute son," said Shaun. No one had been ordered to kill
himself. Did Dr Quade tell you that?" Captain O'Cassidy asked sternly.
"Not in so many words," admitted Joe. "But the man who traded places
with Charlie was, in a way. Is he so important that you are willing to
sacrifice one man to get Dr Quade?"
"No, you have it all wrong," said Shaun soothingly. "I know what you
are going through, but believe me, im sure that the man who is pretending
to be Dr Quade was not ordered to kill himself. He took the job
voluntarily, knowing full well what he was risking and believing that he
was capable of extracting himself. But if it does come down to dying, he
is capable of doing so if he has to." Captain O'Cassidy's voice had been
steadily rising im volume un till he spoke the final words in a near
shout.
"I'm sorry," he said, apologizing to Joe. "I shouldn't be shouting at
you, after all you haven't been in the belt long enough to form your own
opinions yet. But then, you were raised in an affluent family and were
handed everything you needed to succeed in your society back on Earth. But
you will find life is different out here. Very different. Here we are
involved in a war. A war of survival, one that never stops for a moment.
And on top of that, add the conflict that is yet to come with Earth. On
Earth you never had to fight for anything that you wanted, but you better
learn fast. No one is going to hand you anything here." Captain O'Cassidy
paused to catch his breath before continuing.
"Look," he said at last. "People get killed in wars and it usually
isn't a pleasant sight. But every one who fights out here on our side does
so voluntarily and by their own free will. Sacrifices must be made or we
will all die. There are those among us who feel that our own lives are
worth less than the possible future we are trying to attain for ourselves
and for our children."
Joe had said nothing up to now but finally cut in. "If I tell you
right now that I am not interested in the fight, what would happen to me?"
"That is had to say," said Shaun. "You know too much to be allowed to
go your separate way, but we do not believe in coercion. Some way would be
found to return you to Ceres to continue your life as you would wish."
Captain O'Cassidy stopped and examined Joe. "Is that your wish?"
"No, but I was curious. Right now I know too little about you all to
truly commit myself one way or the other although I am strongly leaning
toward your side right now. I just wish to examine all possibilities to
insure that I am not making an emotional mistake."
"Good," beamed Shaun. "Examine away. We all have nothing to hide and
I am sure that you will find yourself believing more and more in what we
are trying to do."
What happens next?," asked Joe.
"From here we head directly to Alpha Base to deliver Dr. Quade. He
is, after all why we are here. And then, I am not sure. But something will
be found for us to do. You can be sure of that."
"What then happens to the Runner?," asked Joe.
"She will be converted into something, but her ore carrying days are
over," said Shaun.
"Why?," asked Joe
"Well, there were originally five of this class ship, but over the
years all of the other four have been wrecked and salvaged. Or so say the
records, anyway. In actuality, one was hidden and not broken up. That is
the ship that is on it's way to Ceres now. And that is why the Runner was
used. It is the only ore carrier that we had a double for."
"So you volunteered, knowing you couldn't go back to Ceres?"
"Yes," admitted Captain O'Cassidy. "And that was the hard part. I
have a wife and family on Ceres. She doesn't know the ship coming in is
not us."
"What!," exclaimed Joe, shock showing in his voice. "Why did you
agree to this, then?"
"Because the Runner was the only ship that could carry out this
mission, that's why. And Dr. Quade IS that important. I knew what I was
doing, and so did the rest of the crew."
"Now it is my turn to apologize," said Joe contritely. "What will
become of your family?"
"She might remarry, but I hope not, since she doesn't know of the
switch. We couldn't take the chance, because her show of grief must be
real to fool the authorities. Later, if we can she will be told and she
might forgive me. I hope so but I will have to wait and see. If Internal
Security is watching her, we may never be able to tell her."
"I came up here to learn a bit of piloting but I'm not sure I feel up
to it right now," said Joe. "Maybe later, Ok?"
"Sure thing, Joe. Why don't you drop down and get something to eat
and then look up the ship's doctor. Ask him to give you a drop of the
captain's own stomach medicine before you sack in for the night. It
usually helps me at times like these. Then come back in the morning fresh
and ready for your first lesson," said Shaun. "Sound good?"
"Yeah," agreed Joe. I think that's what I'll do," he said, turning
and making his way back down the access tube toward his small stateroom.
The Captain's own stomach medicine turned out to be a very potent and
smooth scotch whiskey which, according to the label was a product of the
belt. "Well," thought Joe. "Maybe life in the belt won't be so bad after
all."
8
Joe spent the next couple of weeks immersed in belt astrogation and
piloting. Captain O'Cassidy turned out to be a very good teacher and,
contrary to what he had said at the start of the voyage, Joe was standing
bridge watches before they entered the belt.
One afternoon when Joe was off-duty, the ship's announcing system
chimed for attention, calling for Joe and Charlie to come up to the
bridge. Once there they found Captain O'Cassidy waiting for them.
"We are about to enter the belt, gentlemen," he began. "If you are
interested you can come down to the plotting room and watch the navigation
procedure."
This particular type of operation had led to much speculation among
the four men and Joe and Charlie were more than grateful for the
opportunity to watch and they followed Captain O'Cassidy down to the
plotting room.
The deck immediately above the crews quarters contained the plotting
tables, the navigation computer, communications equipment and the ship's
sick bay. The bustle of activity here was taking place around the two lit
plotting tables and the navigation computer.
"What we are doing here, gentlemen," explained Captain O'Cassidy, "is
plotting a safe course through the asteroids." He brought them over to one
of the lit tables. When Joe and Charlie looked into it they saw a number
of glowing lines. "This is how it works," continued Shaun. "Whenever the
navigation computer and the main ships radar detects a new asteroid that
will come reasonably close to our course, it plots it in the table. The
green lines are where the rocks came from, the blue dot is the rock itself
and the yellow line is the projected path of the rock."
"Then the red lines must be the ship's course?," asked Joe.
"Yes," agreed Shaun. "The dark red is where we came from and the
lighter red is our projected course."
The table that the three of them were at was the less busy of the
two, and most of the activity was taking place at the other table. "This
table is the long-range plotter," continued Shaun. "All of the known
asteroids are pre-plotted here. Our destination is also entered." They
both noticed that the red line terminated on one of the large asteroids.
They then realized how far from their final destination they still lay.
Shaun then brought them over to the other table. This also had the
single red line indicating the ship's course and the split green/yellow
asteroid plots.
"This is the short-range plotter," he said. "As you can see, the
ship's course crosses the table completely. Our destination is still too
far away to be seen on this table. This is where we do most of our work
and the computer will keep our course terminated on Alpha base. So any
time we make minor adjustments to the course, the overall destination will
change and the computer, when it deems it safe will readjust the course
automatically to bring us safely to our destination."
As Captain O'Cassidy spoke, a new line winked onto the table.
The green portion to their left and the yellow on their right. "That
one's going to be close," said one of the men at the table.
"Whenever we get a new asteroid, especially a large one, we try to
give it a wide berth, because it is usually accompanied by a number of
smaller rocks," explained Shaun. "At this distance the radar has a hard
time distinguishing between different targets that are very close
together. As we get closer though, that should change."
The men at the plotting table worked quickly, adjusting the path of
the Runner to swing wide around the rock. As the asteroid approached, the
line broke up into more and more lines, indication the smaller rocks that
were accompanying the larger one. At last the lines stopped multiplying
and the men checked their last adjustments.
"Is this how you usually pilot the ship?," asked Charlie.
"No," said Shaun. "Only when we are in the belt. It takes too much
effort to operate like this around the clock. In open space where there is
virtually no danger, we can turn off the plotting system."
As the ship neared Alpha base, there appeared fewer and fewer
unrecorded asteroids and the tight watch on the tables was relaxed until
the watch was held by only two crewmen. Joe was standing watch as an
apprentice, still unsure of the system but more than willing to learn.
Soon the day came when Alpha base appeared on the short range plotter
and the end of their long journey approached. Alpha base was one of the
best-kept secrets of the belt and it had originally begun as a small,
nearly solid iron asteroid. It had been extensively reworked until it no
longer even closely resembled it's original shape.
First, a large hole had been bored through to the middle of it. Next
a small chamber at the center was hollowed out and filled with ice. Then
came the long and laborious task of resealing the access shaft. Once that
was completed large mirrors had been assembled and focused on it. The
asteroid was then was spun on it's axis and the accumulated power of the
sun, focussed by the mirrors, poured millions of watts of power into it
every minute.
Slowly it began to heat up and, as the outer shell reached a
near-molten state the trapped ice turned first to water and then flashed
into steam. Slowly the pressure built up until finally the internal
pressure exceeded the limits of the molten steel. Soundlessly but
spectacular none-the-less, the steam blew a huge steel bubble out of the
small asteroid, while the remnants of the steam escaped into open space
through open vents in it's uneven surface.
Finally, all of the holes were sealed and a large hole was cut and
machined to create a huge door in the side of the bubble. Inner shells
were slowly built over the years to provide living quarters and then
pressurized until today the shell was, in most places, three levels thick.
Engines were attached to it and disguised so that in an emergency it
could be moved in case of discovery by the authorities. By design it
showed as little outward signs of occupancy as possible, relying on it's
appearance more than secrecy to keep it safe. To assist further in the
illusion, huge degaussing coils had been built on the surface to reduce
it's magnetic signature so that it looked like a huge stony asteroid both
visually and to ship's sensors. On rare occasions a mining ship would come
by but soon continued on it's way after a brief inspection.
Inside the sphere lay the small fleet of ships controlled and
operated by Alpha base. Here too were brought the damaged ships for
storage or salvage. The engines that were built into Alpha base came
originally from some of these ships. Here also were stored a large portion
of the fuel and food reserves that the base had managed to hoard. The
arrival of the Runner would help because she carried a large amount of
food and water that had originally been destined for Ceres.
The arrival of the Runner brought a large number of the planning
council to the berth where she would be docking. The docking procedure was
accomplished rapidly and soon a flexible pressurized tube was attached to
the main airlock of the ship.
"Doctor Quade," spoke one of the men in the front ranks as soon as he
had cleared the tube. He pushed his way through the ranks and grasped
Charlie's hand, shaking it vigorously. "We have been anticipating your
arrival for a long time now," he continued. "On behalf of the population
of Alpha base, welcome, welcome."
"We are having a reception tonight in your honor," interrupted
another voice, raised to pierce the hubbub around the lock. A hand snaked
through the small crowd around him and drew him off and away from the
others. Charlie allowed himself to be led away from the bustle and into a
quieter corridor leading away from the press of bodies.
"Come with me," the man said. "I will show you where you will be
staying. Charlie followed the man down a wide hall that intersected
numerous cross-corridors.
"I assume you maintain gravity by spinning the entire structure?,"
asked Charlie curiously.
"Yes," came the quick answer. "The axis of spin is where the ships
enter. We do not pressurize the ships bay because there is too much volume
and an airlock would be impossible."
"Then you live in a band around the middle of the base?"
"Yes. We call this hall here the Equator, and it is at full gravity.
There are two other corridors that parallel it. One above us and the other
below and are called appropriately, Cancer and Capricorn. All of the
corridors intersecting these three are called longitudinals."
"How far do the longitudinals go?," continued Charlie.
"Some go all of the way around the sphere to connect in at the other
side. Each longtitudinal is numbered from one to three hundred and sixty.
Some starting from this corridor and others starting form either Cancer or
Capricorn, depending on which level you are on."
"How many levels are there?," asked Charlie again, beginning to get
confused.
"Only three. Each one is serviced by one of the main halls. It really
is a simple system once you get used to it. Every longitudinal that is
divisible by five extends to the north or south pole The north being where
all of the zero-gee labs are and the south being the access door and
shipyards. Your corridor, longitude fifty extends from your living
quarters out to all of the labs assigned to you, including some zero-gee
ones if you need them." They turned down a longitudinal and stopped in
front of a wide door.
"These are your rooms, through here," he explained. He keyed open the
door and stepped in. By the door stood the familiar console of a comp
terminal. "When you get a chance, enter your fingerprints and then it will
let you set up a list of people who are authorized access and the passkeys
will no longer be usable." He handed Charlie the key before continuing.
"We apologize for the lack of furniture but again we did not know what you
preferred so we waited till you arrived before furnishing the place."
He opened a second door. "Through here," he explained, "is the
bedroom. "He stopped to point out another door in the corner of the big
room. "And through there is the fresher."
He escorted Charlie back into the main room. "This door leads to the
library," he said, opening another door off of the main room. "And this,"
he said," opening another door in the library, "is your personal comp."
Inside Charlie saw a very large comp, one much larger than he had imagined
would be available for his personal use.
"Ships comp," he explained, seeing the puzzled look on Charlie's
face. "The one thing we have a lot of is comps, all of them from the
wrecked ships we salvage."
Back in the main room, he was led through one last door into a large
well equipped lab.
"Your rooms open onto this lab and other similar labs are at your
disposal, further up the longitudinal and also across the hall from here.
Farther down the hall and out of full g are a large number of storerooms
also set aside for your use. Whatever you need, just ask and we will do
our best to provide it for you."
"I... I don't know what to say," stammered Charlie, at a loss for
words. "I am honored by your confidence in me."
"No, we are privileged to have as distinguished a man such as
yourself working with us. Whatever you need, we will provide it. Lab
assistants, equipment, anything. All here would consider it an honor to
work with you directly. But come," he said, changing the subject. "We will
be late for the conference," he said, hustling Charlie back out into the
corridor
The conference was being held in a small room near Dr. Quade's
residence where holocams and mikes had been set up to transmit the meeting
to all people of Alpha base.
As he was escorted into the small room, he noticed that four of the
six comfortable chairs set around the conference table were occupied. He
was led to one of the remaining chairs, while his escort stood in front of
the last empty chair.
"The patriots of Alpha base," he began, "would like to welcome Dr
Charles Quade into our small community. But before we proceed with the
meeting, I would like to introduce a few of our more distinguished
inhabitants."
The host turned to the chair directly to his right. "First, is Yvonne
Perozie." She was an older woman with fair skin and graying hair. Short of
stature and lean, she was wearing one of the common coveralls favored by
most of the asteroid personnel. "She is our Assistant Director."
He turned slightly to face the next chair. "Vittorio Orthaus, the
Sciences Director. He keeps all of the departments in touch with each
other by publishing the ongoing research results. And whenever we can get
it, anything that arrives from Earth." A young man, with the look of
boyhood still upon him, Orthaus was tall, with dark hair, freckles and a
friendly warm smile.
"Third is Jodane Lisenring, He is in charge of the dirty tricks
department." Jodane was a small, nondescript man, with dirty blond hair,
the type that would blend into almost any crowd and be completely
unnoticed.
"Fourth is Yoon Tae Yeo, the Director of Alpha base." He was also
small but with the hair and features of Northern China.
"And I," he continued, turning and bowing slightly to Dr Quade, "am
Salvattoro Castagniera, Supreme Military Commander of the Army and Navy of
Alpha base, and the free asteroid belt." This comment must have been meant
rhetorically because it was met by hearty laughs from the audience. "You
will soon find out," explained Sal, "that the the total armed forces of
the belt consist of one converted mining ship which is our navy and ten
armed soldiers. Or, more accurately, the security team and I, their
officer. All in all, a definitely superior and powerful military
organization if I do say so myself."
Dr Quade found himself chuckling along with the rest of them at this
grand pronouncement and thought that he probably would find it hard not to
like this young man.
Sal turned back to the holocams. "And now I have the great pleasure
of introducing Doctor Charles Quade, late of Earth and due to his own
recent and unavoidable death, late of Mars. But, following a miraculous
recovery, like the rest of us here, late for his own funeral."
Dr Quade stood and waited for the laughter to cease before speaking.
"Sorry I'm late," he began, drawing yet more chuckles from the assembled
crowd. "And, after an introduction like that, anything I say seems almost
anticlimactic." He turned slightly and briefly nodded to Sal. "I will say,
however that with the awesome strength of the military forces of the belt
in so obviously capable hands, how can we lose? Besides since we are
already dead, what more can they do to us?"
He turned to Vittorio. "Is this being recorded?," he asked.
"Yes sir," said Vittorio. "We don't want to let anything slip into
the cracks, so to speak."
"Good. There is a lot that I wish to discuss and it will be easier if
it is all printed out afterwards to be distributed to the interested
departments."
"No problem sir," said Vittorio. "I will see to it."
Dr. Quade nodded his approval before continuing. "There are a number
of subjects that I wish to discuss tonight, and all of them relate to
recent breakthroughs in the fields of chemistry and physics. But first,"
Charlie said, turning to Jodane. "What is a dirty tricks department?"
Jodane smiled. "Most governments keep a dirty tricks department of
some sort or another. They are supposed to keep their enemy's troops off
guard. We, however try to come up with ways of supplying food, water and
personnel. The Streaker/Runner switch is just one of the ploys we use."
"Sounds like fun," said Charlie.
"Yes, it can be. The thrill of the chase, you know. We do have a lot
of friends scattered throughout the Belt. And the ones who are highly
placed do as much for us as they possibly can."
Dr. Quade first filled the group in on the events of the last few
months, finishing by stating once again his desire to steal the beanstalk.
"You are sure that this is absolutely necessary?," asked Yoon once
Charlie had finished speaking. "True we are all dedicated to doing
whatever is necessary but it seems as if we are deliberately starting a
war neither side can afford to wage let alone lose."
"Unfortunately, it is necessary. Computers on Earth ran every
simulation we could come up with and this one is the only one that allowed
the highest survival rate of the belt population. And, yes Earth cannot
afford a war at this time, especially one with supply lines as long as
these will be. The Senate understands that and should do everything
possible to avoid a direct conflict, relying instead on an economic
boycott to win the fight.
"But just in case there are a few hotheads out here and back in the
Senate, we may have to give them something to think about.
"Mr Castagniera," he said, only to be cut short.
"My friends call me Sal," he said.
"Good," he said to the assembled crowd. "And since we all will be
working together for some time, Dr. Quade is too formal, so please call me
Charlie." There was a buzz of approvals from the crowd but Charlie
continued quickly.
"How is the ship coming along?," he asked.
"The hull is completed," said Vittorio. "We are installing the
engines and will be starting on the interior soon."
"Fine," said Charlie approvingly. "I have brought a few changes along
that you might find helpful, like the newest superconductor alloys. If
this whole arrangement actually works, we just might give the Senate
something to really think about." He turned to Vittorio. "How much do the
people here actually know?"
"Not much," admitted Vittorio. "We haven't been publishing anything
about the ship due to the fact that the alloys we have really are not
adequate for the job."
"Why don't you fill everyone in?," asked Charlie. "The new alloys are
far superior to the old ones and I think that they will fill the bill
quite well."
Vittorio faced the holocams. "Basically," he began, "We have been
investigating an interesting side effect of superconductivity.
"First, you must understand exactly what superconductors do. They
allow the flow of electricity through a conductor with absolutely no
resistance to that flow. Resistance causes heat and heat is a loss.
Superconductors allow current flow with no losses whatsoever.
"Superconductors have been around for quite a while. Back in the
early nineteen hundreds an experiment was set up where a conductor was
cooled nearly to absolute zero where the wire turned into a
superconductor. And since then the search was on for a material that
remained a superconductor at room temperatures. And although we are not
there yet, we have been getting closer.
"You may ask why we are interested in superconductivity? Actually the
answer is quite simple. It was discovered that superconductors and
magnetic fields repel one another. A common parlor trick is to get a
magnet to float above a superconductive plate, balanced by the repulsion
of the superconductor and the attraction of gravity.
"Now, conjecture if you will," continued Vittorio. "If the magnetic
field is produced by a solar body such as the sun and the superconductor
is the hull of a space ship. The ship should get a sizeable kick from the
magnetic field as they repel one another."
This announcement was met with gasps from the assembly. "Taking the
engineering one step farther, wrap the hull of an existing ship with a
superconductor assembled around a hollow core. Out in deep space, a heated
fluid is circulated through the tube, keeping the temperature of the
conductor above it's superconductivity point. When close to the sun
however, the sun itself will provide the necessary heat. When the drive is
required, a supercooled liquid is passed through the tube, dropping the
conductor's temperature below it's superconductivity point and the drive
cuts in.
"Unbelievable," said Yoon. "Is all this true?"
"Yes," said Charlie. "And there is more. Do you know what is required
to produce electricity?"
"Sure," said Yoon. A magnetic field, a conductor and motion."
"Correct. The field is supplied by the sun, the conductor is carried
by the ship itself and motion is supplied by the ship during grav-whip. In
essence, an electric generator. If we shunt this current into a large
capacity accumulator, nearly all of the energy to supply the drive
machinery will be supplied free of charge. Once the ship is past the sun
and is on it's way back out, convert the conductor into a superconductor
and there isn't a ship in the system that can catch her."
"My god," said Sal in appreciation. A drive that supplies it's own
power. Isn't that perpetual motion?"
"No, not exactly. It still requires a lot of energy to operate the
superconductivity equipment. More than the accumulators will be able to
supply. Hopefully though, it will catch Earth off guard and we will get
away clean. It will take a lot of experimentation to determine how to
operate a superconductor drive in a planetary field but that is one of the
things that we are fighting for. The chance to continue the research out
here in the belt. But later I can get with the proper department and help
with the technical details. The actual formulas for the alloys are
hypnotically buried with a number of other items.
"Is there anything else?," asked Sal, still in somewhat of a daze.
"Yes, many things. One, for instance is a portable mass-driver. Using
the advanced alloys we can produce a much lighter and more powerful set of
magnets."
"Wait a minute," objected Sal. What about the recoil? In space that
must be a major consideration."
"Yes, you are completely right. However, if you have two drivers
instead of one, one firing a projectile out of the front end and the other
out of the back end, the resultant force vectors cancel each other out and
there will be no recoil."
"How long would these things be?," asked Sal eagerly, the light of
understanding in his eyes as his mind started working on the idea.
"Twenty or thirty feet, depending on the amount of acceleration you
want. Couple it to a photocell array and a medium sized asteroid to anchor
the whole thing and to store ammunition and you have a cheap weapon that
could effectively take out a space ship with one good shot."
"Shit," exclaimed Sal. "If we kill a few of their ships, that should
discourage them from actively carrying the war to us and change it into a
waiting game very quickly."
"Then you expect active war?," asked Yvonne, finally touching on the
one subject they all had been avoiding.
"Unfortunately, yes," he assented. "The Generals on Earth still do
not think in terms of space warfare and the sheer distances we will be
dealing with. However if we can produce a resounding defeat to their
forces, they will very quickly get the idea and pull back, allowing us the
freedom to continue with our other plans. After all, once we have the
fabricator, I would not relish building a beanstalk while being actively
fired upon."
"Anyway," interrupted Yoon. "We can go on like this all night. We all
can get together later and draw up plans for all of the things that you
have brought us.
"However, the original reason for this meeting was to get to know you
and you, us. I believe we have adequately met those goals and I suggest
that we retire to the cafeteria where a buffet spread has been laid out
and continue these discussions later?"
"Yes, excellent idea," said Charlie. "I need to get debriefed
hypnotically before we can really dig into the information I have brought.
So, if you would be so kind as to lead the way," Charlie said to Yoon,
standing and allowing the older man to step off of the stage, "I'll be
right behind you."
He was led a short distance to a large cafeteria, flanked on one side
by Yoon and Salvattoro on the other, with both men competing for his
attention.
The rest of the crowd stayed a few paces behind them, allowing a
semblance of privacy as they walked.
"When will you be able to get me a list of things that you will
need?," asked Yoon.
Charlie ignored Sal's incessant attempts for his attention, listening
instead to Yoon, defering to the man's senoir position. "That will be hard
to say," he began. "I really don't know the status of the other labs
already in operation on Alpha. And until I see those labs and what they
are actually doing, I will not know what areas may need to be addressed. I
will be particularly interested in the ship though."
"Ah, the ship," Sal said, finally succeeding in interrupting. "It is
actually coming along very well and far ahead of schedule."
"We recognize that the launching timetable is unalterable and have
assigned all possible personnel on it."
"Excellent," said Charlie. Later, if it can be arranged, I would like
to see it."
"That can be arranged," said Sal. "Anytime you wish, just say so to
Vittorio. He will set it up for you."
"I'll do that," said Charlie. He stopped and looked around the
cafeteria, noticing that it was starkly decorated and it's strict
utilitarian lines showed through. Frills were the one thing that there was
little of here. At the far end of the large room, tables had been set up
to hold the various trays and bowls of food. Prominently placed at one end
of the last table was a large bowl of fresh fruit. As Charlie got closer
to the bowl he saw a small hand-lettered sign that simply said "one each"
placed beside the bowl.
"They just came in on the Runner," explained Yoon. "We see so little
real food, let alone fresh fruit that it is a real treat. As you might
expect, nearly all of our fare here is algae paste."
"I expected no more," said Charlie in agreement.
"We do," continued Yoon, "have a number of very good chefs here that
can make a very passable meal out of the paste. Nearly everything here
tonight is algae, with a few exceptions other than the fruit." He stopped
to examine the loaded tables. "In fact, I'll be willing to bet that you
won't be able to tell which ones are real and which ones are not."
"That's one bet I won't take," said Charlie with a smile. "But I will
try whatever looks good though and give you my overall recommendations,
ok?"
"Agreed," said Yoon happily, reaching for a plate. "We can talk later
after you get settled. I'll have my secretary set up an appointment."
"I'd like that," said Charlie, finding it easy to like the small man.
He filled a plate with a number of interesting looking items. He
turned and was beckoned over to a partially filled table which was
occupied by Sal, Vittorio and Joe!
"I see you got a better reception than I did," said Joe with a grin.
"Sorry," said Charlie with an apologetic shrug. "So how are you
getting along? I am sorry I havn't had much time for you as of late. But
perhaps that oversight can be remedied."
"That's fine with me but I have a feeling that we both wil be rather
busy in the near future. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the port
master and he will assign me to an instructor to check me out and assess
my piloting skills. If I am lucky, I will be a fully qualified belt pilot
by next week.
"Excellent," said Charlie. "I am sure that they can always use more
pilots here. And I would like to see you in the running for the big job
coming up later."
"You mean on the Giant Killer?," asked Vittorio.
"The WHAT?," asked both men unison.
"That's what everyone has been calling the new ship," chimed in Sal,
laughing at the reaction of the two men. The few of us who knew her true
mission have had a hard time keeping it secret with a name like that."
"No one is sure who started it," added Vittorio. One morning the
first shift started work and found an engraved brass plate on her nose,
with the name on it and it sort of stuck."
"And since no one has been able to come up with a better name, we
really haven't been trying to change it."
Joe and Charlie had found this whole conversation rather funny and
were having trouble controlling themselves through it all. "It's fine with
me," said Charlie around his laughter. "A good omen, gentlemen. If you can
keep your sense of humor at a time like this the battle is halfway won."
"Do you think I will be ready by launch?," asked Joe.
"I have no idea," said Charlie. "I have no way of knowing how good
you are and what your qualifications are. I will leave that up to the port
master."
"Sorry," said Joe, red-faced. "It's just that you seem to have all of
the answers."
"No, actually I have very few. But I hope to be of some assistance in
streamlining those that already exist. Most of the planning and work has
been done. I just hope to be able to help complete them."
"You mentioned earlier that war really was not a factor to worry
about," said Sal. "Why?"
"It's really simple. There are members of the Senate that know they
will still need the belt and it's resources. If we do succeed in becoming
self-sufficient then not only us but the whole solar system wins. No one
would win a real war out here. The Earth simply cannot afford to supply a
war this far from home. Hell, she can't afford to supply peace this far
away. And war is much more expensive."
"So what will they do?," asked Vittorio.
"Now that a cheaper source of resources is available to the Earth,
she will of course grab it. The Earth simply cannot afford the drain we
place on her any longer and there are Senators who believe that they will
never need us. Or at least, when that need reappears later, they can again
develop the belt."
"Isn't that a bit shortsighted?," asked Joe.
"Yes," agreed Charlie. "One, since we are now considered unnecessary,
we die. Very impractical from our point of view. And there is virtually no
chance of being returned to Earth. Unemployment in many sections of the
globe runs as high as twenty-five to thirty percent. There is no place
there for us now and there never will be."
"So what's next?," asked Vittorio.
"Well, that's why we are here. Those of us on Alpha that is, fighting
for a different future. True, Mercury can supply everything that the Earth
needs and will greatly help her unemployment problem. However, as the
resources start to arrive from Mercury, it will fill all of her
manufacturing needs and there it will stay. As the Earth's population
grows, more and more will be needed to house and feed the population.
Everything Mercury supplies will go to Earth and there it will stay,
feeding her cities and industries.
"If, however we do succeed in becoming self-sufficient, all of the
burdens of supplying Earth will be off of us and we will be able to use
the resources as we see fit. Our population is low, and will stay there,
never out-pacing our resource production. All of which will stay here to
be used to build our own worlds. Hopefully, nothing will be needed from
Earth again. With that freedom to grow and learn, the belt will become the
leading edge of technology. We will have the room to grow and expand.
Earth, once she has pulled back will not."
"You paint a rosy picture," said Vittorio, finding it easy to be
pulled into the spell of Charlie's words.
"Rosy it can be but it will also be hard work. Work we will have to
do ourselves, but we do have friends. Powerful friends back on Earth that
are farsighted enough to see the true future of mankind and will do
everything in their power to stop any true attempt at carrying war to us."
"And we know what we have to do to win that war," said Yoon, who had
approached from behind Charlie's chair and had been listening for some
time. "I just received a message that came in with the Runner and has only
now been decoded." He saw that he held the attention of every person
within earshot and continued. "I realize that there have been a number of
people that have been opposed to forcing our freedom but have been backing
the decision of the majority. The message was sent to the military
commander of the Deimos garrison. It details the decision to reduce the
shipments of materials needed by the belt but at the same time requiring
an increase in daily quotas from every man and woman out here. It also
goes on to order the stop of all large construction projects with the one
exception of the Rock and lists the timetable for reducing all garrison
personnel, the last men to leave in no more than five years. By then, it
says, the Mercury mines will be up to full production and the garrison
will no longer be required."
"Five years?," said Sal, "that's all?"
"Yes, that's it. Our death sentence has just been passed. All
personnel that will be going back will be returned on the new freighter
being completed on Deimos, the other three will be shifted to the Mercury
run as their last voyages out to Mars have been completed."
"Five years should be plenty of time," said Charlie. "If our plans
come to fruition, that is."
"And they will," stated Yoon. "This should draw all of Alpha
personnel solidly behind the efforts and serve to pull the rest of the
Belt into the fray. Carry on gentlemen," he said. "I have to get back to
my office, I wish to post copies of the letter and get them sent out to
Ceres so they also can begin to act on it."
Nothing was said at the table as they watched Yoon walk wearily away
from them.
"That sure puts a damper on the evening," commented Joe after Yoon
had departed. I believe I will turn in, if you will excuse me. I've got an
early appointment with the port master."
"Good idea," agreed Sal and Vittorio. Sal turned to Charlie. "If you
wish, I'll show you back to your rooms."
Charlie nodded a silent agreement and rose, following the younger man
out of the slowly emptying room.
"You mentioned the first shift," said Charlie curiously, once the two
men had gotten out into the main corridor.
"Yes," said Sal. "We work around the clock here. Three shifts, each
on their own timetable. A number of projects are on a round-the-clock
schedule and other than that the different shifts was started to relieve
the pressure on our limited support staff"
Charlie soon fell into the routine of Alpha base. He personally kept
track of the installation of the SC drive. The superconductor alloy he had
brought out was a synthetic material that could be sprayed on a hollow
wire and then baked to produce a hard ceramic material. At low current
levels the wire would act as a normal current carrier. At higher levels it
became a heater, supplying heat to the ceramic and taking it above it's
superconductivity point.
A refrigerant could be pumped through the hollow wire which dropped
it's temperature down into the superconductivity range. The heater was
incorporated in the design to act as a rapid shut-off in case something
went wrong because a full operational test would be impossible until the
ship entered the high magnetic field of the sun.
One of the first things Charlie had done was meet with the port
master and inquire about the top pilots at Alpha base. He was not
surprised when he saw Joe's name on the list, but marked as provisional,
depending of course on the outcome of his tests.
Joe himself had not had quite the reception that Charlie had had. He
had been assigned to quarters in a small room containing a combination
couch/bed set against one wall. A small table with two chairs occupied a
corner and a vid terminal stood alone against another wall. A small
bathroom that was shared with the room next to his lay through the only
other door in the room.
"Not bad," Joe thought. "At least it's got possibilities. A little
decorating might just liven the place up."
Joe soon became accustomed to the scheduled routines of the place.
The day after moving into his room he reported to the port master. He
found him in a small office with one large window looking out into the
huge ship bay of Alpha base. He was ushered in after a quick rap on the
outer door. "Joe Francelli," he said, introducing himself and offering his
hand.
"John Henner," came the quick warm response, as he shook Joe's hand
with a strong, steady grip.
He was a barrel of a man, comfortable with the mantle of command,
demanding and getting the respect of all of his pilots. Hard but fair, he
was a near instant judge of character, knowing which men would give him
everything they could and which men he would have to push to do their
best. "Familiarize yourself with all of the various ships" he said, during
the first quick tour of the docks. "But keep away from THAT one."
THAT one turned out to be the Giant Killer, the ship the base was
building specially for Charlie's expedition to Earth. It was a short, wide
cylinder that was open to space through a large hole in the center. Crews
quarters and the operating spaces were placed around the central cavity
with the engines and fuel tanks in the rear. As Joe watched, a scaffolding
was being assembled around the outer hull to begin incorporating the SC
drive.
It had been rigidly tethered to the inside wall, secure inside a
pressurized plastic bubble. There were a number of similar bubbles and
quite a few unused circular collars waiting for when they might be needed.
"Some day," thought Joe, "this place could turn into a major belt
shipyard."
"One more thing," the port master said. "In a few days or so, when I
can get one free, I am assigning you to one of our instructor pilots to
assess what you do and do not know. Then, I can assign you to what classes
you will need and get you into a working position. But until then, just
hang loose and look around."
Joe thought that was an excellent suggestion and planned to take
every advantage of the offer while he could. "Sure," he agreed at once.
"Anything special I should work on?"
"Belt navigation, but I don't expect you to tackle that alone. It can
be really confusing without an experienced man along side of you."
"On the way out here," admitted Joe, "Captain O'Cassidy let me stand
bridge watches and assist in navigating through the belt. "Will that help?"
"Yeah," John said, surprised. "What did you do to the old battle-axe?
Blackmail him?"
"No, it was his suggestion. Why?"
"As far as I know he has never let anyone other than crew onto his
bridge," said John. "He has a bad reputation in the belt for being a
recalcitrant and hardheaded. I have not been looking forward to meeting
the man or having him work for me."
"He seemed okay to me," said Joe, equally surprised. "Maybe he has a
bad rep but doesn't deserve it?"
"Possibly," agreed John. "But as a favor to you, I'll take it easy on
him first. If what you say is true, no sense in antagonizing him on the
first day."
"I would appreciate it. I know you owe me nothing but I believe we
will be working together for quite some time. We might as well start as
friends."
"Friends it is," John agreed warmly. "Friendship has never harmed a
working relationship yet," he said slapping Joe on the back as he left the
office. "And I'll check out Captain O'Cassidy too. Thanks for that bit of
information."
"Any time," said Joe. "Whatever I can do to help, just ask."
"I will," said John with a wry smile. "Believe me, I will."
Joe gave him a brief wave as he left the docks, heading back toward
the living quarters and a cafeteria near his rooms.
Joe had been working a few days when he was called into the docking
foreman's office. It was decorated in the fashion of most working offices.
Piles of blueprints were stacked in one corner of the office. Pictures of
various ships, from one of the big colonist ships to a beautiful three
masted sailing ship. A bookshelf spanning one whole wall was filled with
engineering texts and reference books.
Inside the office he was met by one of the men he had met immediately
prior to the reception held for Charlie the other day. Joe momentarily
forgot the man's name but was quickly reminded.
"Salvattoro Castagniera," he said, introducing himself once again.
"Come on in, Joe, and have a seat."
Joe was waved over to one of the hard chairs by the small desk and
sat, saying nothing, but waiting for the other man to speak.
"I predict a long and mutually advantageous friendship," Sal began.
"I have had a look at your pilot's log and I must say, I'm impressed with
what I saw." He stopped to call up a copy of the log on the vid. "And we
have been watching you closely since you arrived here and I am impressed
by your abilities to absorb new engineering systems quickly."
"Lots of men have more logged hours than I do," protested Joe.
"Yes, they do. But most of them are long haulers, not orbital tug
pilots. Most of your experience is under power; I doubt that there are
five men in the belt with as many hours as you do in tugs. Coupled to your
education, you could be a very useful man. I believe we will have no
trouble finding a permanent spot for you."
"Like what?," asked Joe enthusiastically.
"I'm not sure just yet. How are you getting along with the ships?"
"At first I thought that they were all different but as I study them
I find that they are all very similar, just set up differently. The
control systems all work alike. It's just a matter of learning where the
different controls are on each type of ship."
"Good," said Sal. "You come highly recommended too. Captain O'Cassidy
signed your log book that you are a very capable pilot."
Joe reddened slightly. Although private comments could be entered in
the log book, they seldom were. Only exceptional pilots ever received
personal endorsements.
"And I see that it is not the first time either," continued Sal. "The
Armstrong's flight officer made a few comments also. He cited your strict
professionalism, a finely honed talent with tugs and a general willingness
to do almost any job and then perform it flawlessly," Sal said. "Earth
used a rating system, didn't they?"
"Yes," answered Joe. "All pilots were rated every six months and the
standings were posted. A lot of benefits went with the position of Top
Pilot."
"How many times were you posted as number one?"
"Six. Once at Gagarin in five times at the Armstrong station."
"Didn't the Gagarin rating get you the berth at Armstrong?," asked
Sal.
"Yes," answered Joe. "Once I arrived on the Armstrong it took me a
while to regain the number one spot though. There were a lot of very
capable pilots there, much better than at the Gagarin."
"But once back on top, you stayed there?"
"Yes," agreed Joe, beginning to wonder where this conversation was
leading.
"Well, It seems that I do have a job for you after all. How would you
like to be posted as second pilot to the Giant Killer? Probational of
course."
Joe sat, momentarily stunned. "Me?," he asked finally. "But I have
been here only a few weeks. Surely there are other pilots who know her
better than I do?"
"Frankly, no. The operating system will be completely different and
you impress me as a man fully capable of learning the new system quickly
and well. Interested?"
"God yes," said Joe quickly. "But I do have a few questions though."
"Ask away," said Sal "Anything you want to know, I am now authorized
to tell you."
"Will Dr. Quade be aboard?"
"Yes," chuckled Sal. "I understand that you and he built up quite a
friendship on the way out, didn't you?"
"We got along well, yes. He is a good card player. And I look forward
to playing him again now I know who he is."
"Why would that make a difference?," asked Sal, puzzled.
"On the trip out he was trying to conceal his identity, including
trying to convince everyone he wasn't as smart as he really is. As a
result he deliberately contrived to lose. Not often or spectacularly but
just enough to keep him from being noticed."
"I see," said Sal. Now that he doesn't have to hide who he is, it
will be a much more even match?"
"Exactly. Now we will find out which of us is better than the other.
I will be looking forward to the rematches. But if he is so important to
everything, why are you risking him on the mission to Earth?"
"We tried to dissuade him but he insisted in coming along," explained
Sal. "But then, since so much of the equipment is his design it was
finally agreed that he should be on the ship to assess the fabricator
after the theft. And if it should get damaged in the process, both he and
you should be able to put it back into working order on the way back."
Joe nodded, thinking things over "And who will the Captain be?," he
asked finally.
"Shaun O'Cassidy," Sal answered quickly.
Joe stood, extending his hand. "Then yes, I shall be very pleased to
accept the position."
Sal grasped his hand and, shaking it with a smile. "Good, good. Then
you are working for me now and welcome aboard! But remember. We will be
pushing you t your limits in the next few months. If there is any doubt
about you or your abilities, you are out! And there will be no appeal of
that decision."
"I have never been afraid of hard work. Nor have I v\ever been
accused of doing less than the best that I could. I think you will have
little to complain about from me."
9
The new modifications progressed rapidly on the Giant Killer because
a lot of the work had been completed prior to Dr Quade's arrival. Final
outfitting and the installation of the SC drive were all that was left to
complete. Joe spent most of the time on board learning the new systems and
familiarizing himself with the engine setup. A simulator had been
programmed to assist in ship handling but no one could predict how the SC
drive would work or even if it would indeed work at all.
Captain O'Cassidy, Joe and the third pilot, Michaela Riecce all soon
became quite adept at performing all of the required maneuvers when they
would be in Earth orbit.
One afternoon, Joe and Michaela were returning from the Giant killer
when the emergency lights began flashing.
"What the hell's going on?," asked Joe.
"I'm not sure," answered Michaela. "Quick, in here," she said,
pulling Joe into a small room off of the main corridor. She quickly sealed
the door and then turned on the vid terminal. "This is an emergency hole,"
explained Michaela. "We will be safe here if we lose atmosphere. Let's
find out what's going on, okay?"
"Sure," agreed Joe, turning to the vid, where an announcer was
speaking, preempting all programming channels.
"An unidentified mining ship has just entered short-range radar, he
was saying. This is a class 'B' emergency. No transmitters of any type are
to be used until the all-clear is given. I repeat..."
"Nothing to worry about," she said. "We get quite a few of them
actually. Let's see if I can get a better picture on this thing." She
returned to the vid and entered a string of commands on the keyboard.
"Good," she finally announced. I have tied in to the exterior camera
system monitoring the intruder. I can only get the one central control is
watching on the main monitor but that should be fine."
"Looks good to me," agreed Joe, pulling up a chair and settling in to
watch.
Michaela entered another string and soon the announcer's voice was
back on. "I crossed the audio channel over to the announcer so we can hear
anything he has to say without missing any of the action."
"How did you learn those commands?," asked Joe curiously.
"When I first arrived here, I was assigned to security central and
had access to all of the codes and passwords. I still like to be able to
keep track of things," she admitted. "It's a bit like spying, but I cannot
access anyone's private vid without him or her knowing about it. The only
thing I can monitor are the open security channels."
On the vid they saw a small mining ship, slowly closing on Alpha
base, making a standard pass, checking for any indication of iron, using
magnetometers.
"They usually make one pass and then go on. If there is no iron then
they do not stop."
"What's happening now?," asked Joe, still watching the vid. The ship
had fired her retro's, bringing her to a relative stop near the large
asteroid.
"Damn," muttered Michaela. "It looks like they are going to come over
and do a visual."
"What's that?," asked Joe.
"They are looking for anything that would not show up on a
magnetometer. Ice, non-ferrous metals, minerals, anything at all that
might be useful."
"What will security do now?"
"That depends on what they find and what they do next. If they do not
find anything suspicious, like the degaussing coils or one of our monitor
cameras, they may leave. Or they may sink a blast hole and check what's
down under the surface."
Two men detached themselves from the ship and, using jet packs,
dropped down to the asteroid's surface. They landed on the north pole,
that being the easiest place to set down due to the spin of the asteroid.
"That's a lucky break," commented Michaela. There is much less to see
there than on the south pole. The ship access door is much harder to hide
than the coils and the cameras."
"What will happen if they do decide to blast?"
"Depends on where they try it. If they are over one of the labs, they
will get one hell of a surprise when they vent it to space. But it should
not go that far though."
"Why not?," asked Joe, curoisity coloring his face.
"Watch and see," came the enigmatic answer.
Sure enough, the two men opened a case and withdrew a boring laser
and began setting it up on the surface of the asteroid. Suddenly, behind
them, a much larger ship appeared on the monitor camera. The commentator
patched the communication channel into his broadcast and sent the dialogue
throughout the base. "Stop what you are doing," came an unseen voice from
the new ship."
"Who are you?," came another unidentified voice.
"We have a prior claim on this rock," the first announced. "All
signed and legal by Ceres. Want to see it?"
Nothing more was said for a short time. "This is the dangerous part.
If they decide to fight about it, things could get dirty. Let's hope the
intruder isn't too brave and quits."
"So what are you hiding here?," the second finally answered. "Ain't
no iron. Must be something good."
"It doesn't matter. Whatever's here is ours. No sense in fighting
about one rock when there are millions of others like it out here. Why
don't you just move along and check a different one out?"
Again came a minute or two of silence from the intruder. "Look,"
announced Michaela excitedly. "They are packing up." Sure enough, the two
men on the surface were repacking the drill laser and getting ready to
return to their ship.
"Don't know what you are hiding, stranger," called the intruder. "But
I'm sure it ain't worth a fight for. Keep it in good health and be damned,"
the voice said angrily.
Joe and Michaela watched as the two men jetted back to the small ship
and disappeared inside. Soon, they saw the pale exhaust of steam and the
ship began moving away from Alpha, resuming it's hunt for usable ores."
"That's the easy way," said Michaela.
"I don't think I want to know what the hard way is. But what would
happen if they decided to fight?"
"They would lose. The second ship is not a mining ship and although
it looks like one, it belongs to Security. All of it's cargo holds are
carrying generators and accumulators. She carries one hell of a main
laser, not to mention flush missile racks carrying both conventional and
nuclear warheads."
"Then I assume that's the hard way?"
"Yes. Hard for them, easy for us. So far however, we haven't had to
use it against anyone yet. There was one incident where we did fire the
main laser, but missed, by design. We came close enough though that the
other ship realized they were outclassed and turned tail and ran. A big
mega-laser is enough to scare anyone.
"I'm sure it is," chuckled Joe, putting himself in the place of that
other captain. "I'm sure that in similar circumstances, I would have done
the same thing."
"Condition green," said the announcer, as the emergency lights
stopped flashing. "The emergency is over, please resume your normal
activities," he continued.
Michaela returned the vid to it's normal mode of operation, deleting
the instruction string and blanking the picture. "There," she said after
completing the task. Now it is just a vid terminal again."
"You could be handy to have around," said Joe appreciably.
"Yeah, there are a lot of things I can do," she said flirting with
him.
Joe knew however that it was all in fun. She was involved with
someone at the moment but still enjoyed the reactions she could get from
the men she worked with. It had taken Joe a few days and a reminder or two
to discover just how serious she actually was. Which was fine with Joe. He
really did not need any more distractions at this particular time, since
the Giant-killer took up most of his time.
Finally the day came when the ship was finished, all fuel tanks
filled and the provision lockers stocked. The four crewmembers looked
forward to the time they would be allowed to try her out for real instead
of in the Simulator.
Major Caine received the summons to appear in front of the World
Senate subcommittee on planetary defense with mixed reactions. Yes, he had
expected the summons but none-the-less he was still mentally unprepared
for them.
"Lieutenant Hadley," he called into his intercom. The door to his
large office opened to admit the young lieutenant. "I will need a
round-trip ticket on the next suborbital flight to Zurich Switzerland," he
said.
"Yes sir," the Lieutenant said. "How long will you be staying and
should I make reservations at one of their hotels?"
"Yes, you better make them at the Hilton. I may be there a while.
And," he said as an afterthought, "you better leave the return open."
"Right away sir," Lieutenant Hadley said, saluting as he backed out
of the office.
The view of new Zurich was grand as the big aircraft banked in and
overflew the city to land at the airport serving the World Senate. A small
city in it's own right, it had been built away from old Zurich in an
effort to preserve the historic city and it's distinctive architecture.
A limo was waiting for him in front of the terminal building and he
watched the panorama of the Alps out the side windows on the way to the
Hilton. The driver had cleared the normally opaque windows to insure a
good view on the long drive. Although Major Caine had not asked the driver
to do so, apparently enough people had done so in the past so that he now
did it automatically.
"Here we are sir," the man announced as he pulled up in front of the
large modern hotel. "I have been assigned as your driver for your entire
stay here. If you need me, you can page me over your wrist comp."
"Very good," said Major Caine, slipping out of the auto, as a
liveried bellboy removed his baggage from the trunk of the large vehicle.
"Lieutenant Hadley had done well," he thought, inspecting his small
suite of rooms. Although not nearly the best the hotel had to offer, well
within the normal budgetary requirements of his department.
He was just getting ready for a quick shower when he heard a knock at
his door. Opening it, he was confronted by a Major wearing the insignia of
the Judge Advocate General's office.
"Come in," he offered, stepping out of the way and allowing the large
man to enter. "What can I do for you?"
"Good afternoon, Major," he said. "I am Jon Trevor, JAG Corps. The
General thought you might like a little legal representation when you
confront the Senate in the morning."
"Why?," asked Major Caine, somewhat puzzled. "I haven't been accused
of a crime have I?"
"Not that I know of, but since this is the first time you have been
interviewed by the subcommittee I believe I should warn you that they are
a group of crusty old bastards who have no consideration of other's
rights. If you don't have someone on your side that is extremely familiar
with the law, you might get railroaded into something you will regret!"
"I don't really think I will need anyone," explained Major Caine.
"But if you think it will help?"
"You never know. These men like to get what they want and it is my
job to see that they get it, but in a legal fashion. Understand?"
"Almost," said Major Caine. "Who do you work for, me or them?"
"You," came the quick answer. "Although you could say I really work
for them. Much the same way you work for them also."
"I hope not," said Major Caine earnestly. "I would wish my job on no
one," he said with a sly grin.
Major Trevor smiled broadly. "I believe we will get along just fine,"
he laughed. "I often feel the same about my job!"
At eight AM the following morning, Major Caine, dressed in his finest
uniform met Major Trevor in a small antechamber near the rooms where the
subcommittee for planetary defense met. "Are you ready?," asked Major
Trevor. "We have been given the first spot on the agenda. It seems they
think your case is rather important."
Major Caine extended his hand toward the doors of the chamber,
allowing Major Trevor to lead the way through the unfamiliar building. A
short distance away they stopped in front of a set of bronze double doors.
"Here we are Major," he announced. He turned to the two guards at the
door. Major Caine and Major Trevor," he said. "We have been called by the
subcommittee."
"Yes sir," spoke one of the guards. "We were told to expect Major
Caine but were told nothing of you!"
"You aren't going to try to keep me out are you?," he asked.
"Oh no, sir. You are of course free to go on in."
"Thank you Sergeant," Major Hadley said to the guard, opening the
right door."
"See what I mean?," he said to Major Caine. "You would never believe
that these hearings are open to the public, would you?" "They are?," said
Major Caine in astonishment. "Then why all of the security?"
"Simple," Major Trevor explained. "If you don't know your rights then
you don't have them. Here, you must take them or you don't get them at
all.
"Damn," said Major Caine, appreciating Major Trevor's presence
already, even before they had gotten into the chambers.
They walked through a small antechamber and entered the larger room
through an open archway in the back of the room. In front of them lay a
large U shaped table, with twelve men seated around it. In front of the
open section stood a podium.
"Please approach the podium and state your name," one of the Senators
said."
"I don't believe," interrupted the only woman on the subcommittee,
"that we invited you, Major Trevor!"
"Just thought I'd wander in and see what you all were doing today,"
said Major trevor flippantly."
"Nothing here has any concern of yours," said the first man.
"Nothing?," asked Major Trevor. "Perhaps just the fact that you are
meeting at all today is of interest to me. And if you feel that way, call
in one of your guards and have me removed!"
"Now, now," soothed the woman. "We cannot dispute your right to be
here. We only suggest that it isn't wise."
"I have rarely been accused of being wise," Major Trevor said,
sinking into one of the empty chairs set at the table. "Please continue,
and pretend that I am not here."
The man seated at the very end of the right U arm suddenly checked
his wrist comp.
"Sorry Senator," said Major Trevor. "But I do know the rules. My comp
is disabled at the moment. I would not be so stupid to try to illegaly
record these proceedings. You cannot get rid of me that easily."
"As long as you realize that none of this may be recorded by anyone
other than us and the man being questioned himself," said the woman.
"Of course," Major Trevor said sweetly. "When have I ever been one to
break the rules? Oh, by the way, Major. I would suggest that you do record
the proceedings. That way you can check the official record against your
own copy to insure everything is correct."
"Are you accusing us of tampering with official records?," said the
first man loudly.
"Me?, no. I would never accuse you of that. But it is known that no
one is perfect, and mistakes have been known to happen."
Major Caine set his own wrist comp to record mode, wondering why
Major Trevor was antagonizing them.
"Well, Major," said the woman. "I hope you are easier to get along
with than Major Trevor here is."
Major Caine then realized that the man had been redirecting any
animosity the group felt toward himself and away from himself. "Much,
Senator. I am here simply to answer all of your questions as completely as
I can."
"Good," she said, glaring at Major Trevor.
"Can you explain your actions concerning the disappearance of Dr
Quade?" she asked bluntly.
Major Trevor gasped in astonishment but Major Caine ignored the
interruption.
"We traced an illegal entry to an unauthorized terminal coupled
directly to the main core of the Worldnet. From that terminal was entered
an order to arrest and detain Dr Quade. Unfortunately, the order was
directed to my department specifically and I personally saw to the arrest
and detainment of Dr. Quade."
"We are aware of that fact, Major. That is why we asked you to
testify. Do you have any idea who placed the tap?"
"No, but it's location might interest you."
"And where is that," asked an old man, speaking for the first time.
"We found it in an unused office in this very building!," announced
Major Caine to a stunned subcommittee.
"Perhaps you people are not that good at security either," said Major
Trevor happily.
"Who was the office assigned to?," asked the old man.
"To a Senator Polkova," announced Major Caine.
"The old man fell back into his chair, his face turning red and
gasping for breath."
"Now Senator," spoke the woman. No one doubts your loyalty. It surely
was a blind setup!"
"That's Senator Polkova," said Major Trevor. "Damn near gave him a
heart attack that time. His pretty wife will be disappointed," he said,
irony twisting his words.
"As of yet we cannot find out who actually occupied the office last.
But yes, it does not seem to have ever been actively used by Senator
Polkova's staff."
"Thank you, young man," said the Senator, regaining some of his
composure. "Go on," he ordered.
"After taking him into custody and placing him in a holding cell in
the London branch of Internal Security, near his home, someone, still
using the illegal tap changed his information and he was transferred to
North Africa and sent up on the last shuttle to the Oppenheimer and on out
to Mars.
"This gets more and more interesting every minute," said Senator
Polkova. "I hope you have a good explanation for everything?"
"Actually, I do. I was acting on signed orders from the World Senate.
Specifically, the Subcommittee on Planetary Defense!"
"And you expect us to believe that?," gasped Senator Polkova. "Do you
take us to be fools? We would never order something like that!"
"And how was I supposed to know that? All counterseals were in order
and I even got confirmation from your office when I asked for
clarification!"
"We are all obviously a victim of massive computer fraud," said the
woman. "Until we discover who is actually responsible, we must not be
quick to blame anyone." She turned to confront Senator Polkova. "Agreed
Senator?"
"Yes, damnit, I agree," Senator Polkova snarled. "But someone has to
be held responsible!"
"Good," she said. " As long as it is the guilty party and not one of
the victims. Shall we continue?"
"I take it then that you have since retrieved him?"
"No sir, I have not. We were second guessed at Mars and he was
whisked out from under our noses before we could catch him. We traced him
finally to a ship called the Runner, which set out for Ceres shortly after
Dr Quade arrived on Mars."
"And where is the Runner now?," asked Senator Polkova.
"Ceres," answered Major Caine. "Probably being broken up right now as
we speak!"
"Broken up?, asked the woman. "Why?"
"She suffered a massive asteroid strike while on the way to Ceres and
was destroyed, with complete loss of crew and passengers!"
"WHAT!? Shouted Senator Polkova. "Dead? Impossible!"
"You really should learn to control yourself better, Senator," said
the woman. "Or we might just be dealing with your replacement soon!" She
said to the still red-faced man.
"That Bitch will never get MY seat!," he huffed, still panting for
breath."
"I beg to differ, Senator. If you foolishly choose to die before the
elections, the seat is hers and you know it! Besides which, I am getting
tired of being the only woman on this subcommittee!"
"Already plotting to get rid of me?," he asked no one in particular.
"I am tougher that that," he sneered.
Baiting Senator Polkova seemed to be a popular pastime here, thought
Major Caine. He more and more appreciated Major Trevor's initial action to
redirect any animosity away from him.
"So what are you going to do next?," asked Senator Polkova finally.
"I don't know," admitted Major Caine. "We only have one man on Alpha
but we are trying to introduce more."
"Only one?," asked the woman, puzzled. "I was sure you reported
getting one more aboard successfully."
"Yes, we managed to get one additional agent on the Runner with Dr
Quade. Unfortunately, He died along with the rest. So we still only have
one man on board. And I refuse to jeopardize his position until I have at
least two more men on Alpha."
"A wise decision," said the woman. "Is there anyone else capable of
finishing the work on the Beanstalk?"
"Fortunately, yes," said Major Caine. We found complete sets of
drawings and instructions for completing the beanstalk. I have turned it
over to two of the best men in the field and they assure me that there
will be no problem."
"Good," said Senator Polkova. "Anything else?"
"No, that sums it all up," he said finally.
"Please stay in Zurich until we officially release you," said the man
at the end of the table. "We wish to correlate your data and facts. If we
have more questions we will call for you again."
Major Caine took that as his dismissal, turning to leave as he came
in. "And take that other person with you," said Senator Polkova to Major
Caine's back.
"They really don't like you, do they," Major Caine said to Major
Trevor after they had left the chamber.
"No, not at all. But they have learned to tolerate me and respect me
somewhat.. I will say though that I haven't seen anything like that since
I started here. Well worth the wait too."
"What do you mean?," asked Major Caine.
"The way you handled them," replied Major Trevor. "You played them
like a master. You are wasted on Security, you should be in the JAG corps."
"Me? A lawyer? No way. I'll stay just where I am, thank you! Tell me,"
Major Caine asked finally. "Are there any good restaurants around here?"
"Sure, over in Old Zurich," replied Major Trevor with a grin. "If you
will allow me to catch a ride with you I'll show you one of my favorites."
"You're on," said Major Caine, delighted. "Major Trevor," he thought
"Just might turn out to be a useful friend and ally.
"She still handles like a pig," announced Joe to no one in
particular. "There's got to be something we can do."
"What did you say?," asked Charlie, looking up from his meal.
The two of them, with Shaun and Michaela were seated in a small
cafeteria around the corner from Charlie's labs.
"She's a pig," Joe said again. She doesn't fly, she wallows. We
couldn't outrun a garbage scow let alone the ships that will be waiting in
Earth orbit."
Charlie looked at Shaun for confirmation. "He's right," Shaun
admitted. "Something's wrong and we cannot find it. Neither can the
maintenance crew."
Do you want me to look into it?," asked Charlie. "This is serious.
That ship should be fast. It should be one of the fastest ships in the
system. Are you sure you are getting max power out of the engines?"
"All readouts indicate one hundred percent," chipped in Michaela.
"That was one of the first things we checked. All engines are working as
they should."
"Did you check the engines themselves or are you relying on the
computer?"
"Why, the computer," admitted Shaun. "But you wrote that program."
"So? You all forget I can make mistakes too. Check it out, and see
what you find. Then tell me and I'll try to rework the program for you."
"And if that doesn't work?," asked Joe.
"We'll worry about that when it arrives. Assuming there is nothing
wrong with the engines, there has to be a problem with the control
systems. How does the simulator handle?"
"Great. Better than we had hoped. But actual performance falls short
of that."
"The same program was used in both the simulator and the
Giant-killer. Then it must be an incompatibility in the programming.
Something that was added to get it to run on the simulator?"
"Nothing that I know of," said Shaun. "But it gives us another
possibility to check.
They were interrupted by the entrance of the maintenance chief. He
walked up to Charlie and dropped a handful of chips on the table. "Keep
those damn things out of my ship," he said.
Charlie looked at him, puzzled. "What's wrong with them?"
"Don't know," he said. "With these damn things in, the engines are
running at forty percent but they report one hundred percent!" He said
nothing else but turned and stalked sulkingly out of the room.
"Well, that answers that question," said Charlie with a laugh. Hard
man to work with huh?"
"Hard?," asked Joe incredulously. "Nearly impossible is more like it.
But he does know his job though."
"Well, leave him alone and let him do it then, is my advice," said
Charlie.
"That's pretty much what everyone does around him," admitted Shaun.
"He refuses to admit that a pilot might just know something about his
ship."
"Well," said Charlie, in a conciliatory tone. "Let me ask you three a
question. Do you know as much as he does?"
"Of course not!," exclaimed Michaela, as the other two shook their
heads in agreement.
"I guess he may be right then," said Charlie, smiling at their
discomfort. "Leave him alone and just concentrate on what you are supposed
to learn and let him get the ship operational, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," said Shaun grudgingly. "It just makes a man mad to be
treated like an idiot sometimes."
"I understand," said Charlie. Now if you will excuse me, I want to
find out why these chips don't work properly."
Shaun, Michaela and Joe returned to the remains of their meal as
Charlie scooped up the defective chips and headed back to his labs.
There was a soft knock on Salvattoro's office door. "Come in," he
called. The door opened and Dr Quade entered. "Sit," said Sal, standing
and indicating a single chair by his small desk. "I apologize for the size
of the place," Sal began.
"No need to apologize," said Charlie. "To each according to his
needs, right?"
"More like 'to each according to where they put him regardless of his
needs'" Sal said with a laugh. "But what can I do for you?"
Charlie reached into an inside pocket and removed a small plastic
case and handed it over to Sal. Inside were the six micro-chips that the
Maintenance supervisor had removed from the Giant killer.
"We seem to have a small problem," Charlie began.
Sal removed one of the chips and examined it. "So what's wrong?"
"These chips were removed from the engine control system of the Giant
Killer. The program was written by me and ran successfully in the
simulator for months until the program was dumped into the main computer
and integrated into the engine system."
"What happened?," asked Sal curiously.
"There was a virus lodged in the main system aimed at this particular
program. It cut total engine power down to forty percent while reporting
that they were producing one hundred percent."
"Where did the virus come from?," asked Sal.
"More like a who," said Charlie to a surprised Sal. "That's why I am
bringing it to you. That virus was far too sophisticated to have been a
mistake. And it was far too hard to kill. We found copies of it in the
strangest places. Places that you would never normally think of looking
for a control system virus."
"Like where?," asked Sal, realizing that the more information he had
the better the chance of finding the perpetrator.
"Would you believe in the coffee pot?" Not the pot itself of course
but in the control circuitry. It IS connected to the main computer system.
After all that's where it derives all of it's automatic functions from."
"Anywhere else?"
"A few in the main core where you would expect it and on a few of the
poerating chips, and we are still looking. But so far that's the strangest
place we have found a copy.
"So what happens if you miss one?"
"Now, nothing. We have redesigned the control program, rendering this
particular virus ineffective. But we are looking at everything, trying to
discover if any more have been planted."
"So what do you want me to do?," asked Sal, jokingly. "Security
doesn't usually cure viruses. Maybe you should be talking to medical.
Perhaps they can come up with a vaccination?"
"Actually," said Charlie with a grin. "You aren't that far off. One
of my bright young assistants is now trying to create a vaccine that will
search out and kill this particular virus and any more that are similar.
"But he is having no end of troubles. Whoever created it made it virtually
impervious to the normal vaccines we use today. So it's been a long slow
process of examining every line of programming, looking for any small,
encapsulated program."
"Have you found anything else yet?"
"So far, just the one. But what bothers us is, this one is so
sophisticated that whoever wrote it, if he is on Alpha could probably hide
something in the system and we would miss it simply because it isn't a
virus as we are used to seeing them."
"I begin to understand your problem," said Sal gravely. "Could it
have come in from another source by accident?"
"That's a possibility we are looking into. But, it looks like this
virus was written specifically for the control program. It is different
from the normal programs in the other ships. And it does nothing if
introduced to some other control system."
"So now the hard part begins," admitted Sal. "Do you have any
suspects?," he asked hopefully.
"No, I don't," Charlie said, helplessly. "We have run all of the
vaccine programs through the main system and turned up nothing. Whoever
did this has to be stopped and fast. Since this attempt failed, I am
afraid to see what he tries next."
"Any ideas?"
"A few," he said. "One, we can change the operating system to report
ALL changes and send them to a printer. Any time a program is changed or
entered, we can get a copy of it printed out and see what is being put
into the system.
"EVERYTHING?," asked Sal incredulously. "Have you any idea how many
changes are made daily?"
"No, but I have a feeling that I am going to find out. We also can
divorce the ship from the main system and anything that goes into the ship
is brought in on discrete chips. That way we can examine each chip before
it goes in and hopefully protect the ship that way."
"That's a good idea," said Sal. "How many people know that you
suspect sabotage?"
"Most of my top people plus Shaun, Joe and Michaela. the Maintenance
chief and probably at least his top people. Maybe a few more but not many."
"Too many already," said Sal unhappily. "I was hoping to keep a
better lid on it but it's too late now. However, anything we decide now,
we MUST keep to ourselves if we hope to be effective. Can you change the
operating system to show any changes alone?"
"Sure," said Charlie. "That's easy."
"Good. "Do so and have the destination routed to my office. I will
find a man to examine the results if you will show him what he is to look
for."
"You realize he has to be a programmer, don't you? In fact he should
be an expert. The better he is the easier the job will be."
"Don't worry," said Sal. "I have just the man in mind. How soon can
you integrate the changes?"
"Today if that's not too soon?"
"Immediately, if not sooner. But do me a favor will you?"
"Sure Sal, what?," asked Charlie.
"Just tell him what he has to know and no more. I want to keep as
much of a lid on this as possible."
"Okay," agreed Charlie. "But aren't you being a bit too suspicious?"
"Hell no!," exclaimed Sal. "You can never be too suspicious." He
stood and held the door open for Charlie. "And welcome to the paranoid
world of security and espionage," he said with a grin as Charlie left the
small office.
Later that afternoon, Charlie returned to Sal's office. Once there,
he was met by Sal and a young man.
"This is Randy Applegate. He is the programmer who will be examining
the programs you send him."
Charlie looked the young man over. He was of average height, long
sandy brown hair and a light complexion. He was dressed in a pair of
bluish pants and a tee shirt with a picture of a Cray 3a computer printed
on it. He and Charlie shook hands briefly "I am Dr Quade," he said.
"Yes sir, I have heard of you and I saw you on the vid when you first
arrived," he said excitedly. "I am glad that I have the opportunity to
work with you."
"I haven't seen you around before," said Charlie. "Who do you work
for?"
"Sanitation," Randy said hesitantly.
Charlie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"How about showing us how the system works?," said Sal.
"Uh, sure," said Charlie. He stepped over to the vid, calling up the
first batch of changes. "All of the system changes have been sent here to
be looked at. Do you know why we are doing this?," he asked Randy.
"Yes sir," came the quick answer. "You are looking for anything out
of the ordinary, especially viruses, right?"
"Yes, exactly. If you do find something you think may be wrong, you
can send it directly to my terminal here for me to look over. Anything at
all that you think is suspicious. Do you understand?"
"Completely, sir," Randy said. Shouldn't be too hard. Do you want me
to correct them too?"
"No, just let me see them. This will also tell us where the programs
were entered from and give us an idea who is entering them so be sure to
send the tag lines along also, okay?"
"Sure, no problem. No problem at all."
Charlie entered another string of commands, calling up a small
program. "This is a copy of the virus that we have already found," he
explained. Whoever wrote this is very good. He will try to disguise his
work though so you must be vigilant."
Randy examined the small program. "This?," he asked. "This has been
around for years. It's a modification of a hookworm, created at Berkeley
in 2024 and introduced into the Cray systems. It threw the California
state tax system into complete disarray before it was stopped."
"Can you kill it?"
"Sure, no problem at all. Simple little program actually, but very
sophisticated. Most systems can do things that their designers never
thought of, but are there because of the complexity of the design. First
you have to figure out what all of the short-cuts are. Then, using the
principles that allow the short-cuts you write a program specifically
using these principles. If done properly, it can spread through the system
without anyone knowing it's there or interrupting any of the normal
operations."
"So what can be done about it?"
"You're going to love this," said Randy. "The answer is a vaccine
called a tiger. It hunts out any program that uses any of the short-cut
steps and eradicated them from the core. It has a problem though in that
it removes ALL of the programs using these steps but that is a small price
to pay for the vaccine."
Charlie turned to Sal with a smile. "Where did you find this guy?,"
he asked.
"Sanitation," he said triumphantly. "Tell him who your grandmother
was."
"Cecelia Cray," said Randy to an astonished Dr. Quade.
"She wouldn't..."
"Yeah, she would," said Randy with a big grin. My great grandfather
invented the Crays. Before I came out here I had a Cray 3A of my own.
Antique, but fun to play with."
"If I may ask, how did you get sent out here?"
"Doing something that I shouldn't have," said Randy crossly.
"You better tell him the whole story," interjected Sal or he won't
trust you at all."
"Okay," he said softly. "I crashed the core of the World Senate comp.
"WHAT?," asked Charlie incredulously. "Worldnet? How did you do that?"
"Easy. I reprogrammed the automatic power supplies for the memory
drives and doubled all of the voltages. They burned out almost instantly,
right down to the last one."
"Why?," came the reply.
"Why not?," Randy answered. "I was trying to get into the underground
and thought it would impress my contact. It did. He was a plant from
Internal Security and he turned me in."
"I can see that," admitted Charlie. "But how did you get through the
safeguards?"
I slipped in my own password and it allowed me complete access. Hell,
I wasn't even on the same continent. I was operating over my own satellite
link."
"Your own?," asked Charlie.
"Yeah. I found a satellite with a damaged transponder and rerouted
the auto-repair ship to fix it early. And then had complete use of it
until it was officially reported repaired."
"Then what?," asked Charlie, not sure whether to believe this or not.
"How did you get your password in?"
"Cray Engineering won a contract to redo one of the filing programs.
My father oversaw that project and I encapsulated a bug to place my name,
retina prints and voice prints in the main core. Then it was simple to get
in and do anything I wanted. I thought that crashing the core would be the
most spectacular thing that I could do."
"I bet it got the desired results," said Sal.
"And then some," said Randy with a laugh. "Boy, they were scurrying
around like crazy trying to figure out what happened."
"And then you told them?"
"Yeah," Randy said unhappily. "If I hadn't said anything they
probably would never have found out. Just passed it off as a power surge.
In fact that is what they told the press. I don't think the Senate ever
told anyone what really happened."
"Not that I blame them," said Charlie. "I do remember hearing
something about that though. If it was when I think it was, it raised one
hell of a stink all right. And you did it?"
"I am afraid so," admitted Randy shyly.
"Okay then, I will admit that I had reservations about you at first
but I believe that you will be perfect for the job," Charlie said,
clapping the young man on the back. "The job's yours if you want it."
"I do, I do," said Randy enthusiastically.
"Good," said Charlie, stepping out of the room. He was followed out
by Sal and together the two of them walked back towards Charlie's labs.
"Are you sure he isn't the one who planted the virus in the first
place?," asked Charlie when they had gotten a small way away from the
office.
"No I am not," said Sal. To be honest with you, I would like it if
you would set up another monitor program to see what he enters from that
terminal. He is in the unique position of sitting at the only vid that is
un-monitored. Can you do it?"
"Sure I can. But I will have to do it from that terminal. If I do it
anywhere else he will know it."
"Damn," said Sal. "I forgot about that. Okay, we will just have to
wait until he breaks for dinner and do it then."
Sal stopped in the corridor. "Let me know when you have the program
ready. I will enter it as soon as he leaves"
"I will dump it onto a memory chip and get it to you as soon as I
can. What I will do is amend the send program so that whenever he sends
anything along to me, it will also automatically send whatever was entered
at his terminal. Will that do?," asked Charlie.
"That will do fine," said Sal, pleased. "You can find me in my
quarters until then," he said, heading off down the corridor, away from
Charlie.
Later that day, Charlie, Joe and Sal met in his room, after the
modified program had been entered on Sal's office comp. "How sure are you
that Randy is not the man we are looking for?," asked Charlie.
"Not sure at all," answered Sal. "But I don't think so. First, he was
too open about where the program came from and, second, he showed us how
to kill it."
"Yes, there is that," said Charlie. "I showed it to my assistant, the
one who was trying to develop his own vaccine and he admitted that it was
far above anything he could have come up with. In fact he admitted that
extra features in the system had never occurred to him and he is
fascinated with the idea. I expect a few interesting things out of the man
when he figures out what is really going on in the core.
"So if it isn't Randy, then who?," asked Joe.
"We will have to wait and see," admitted Sal. Since the program is an
old one, it could have been modified by almost anyone with an
understanding of programming procedures. So now we are not really looking
for a computer expert but anyone with computer experience."
"That could be almost anyone," said Charlie. "Have you given any
thought as to how he communicates with his people?"
"I have been giving that some thought and have a few ideas," said
Sal. "He could have a small signalling laser, or a small radio, although
that could be overheard too easily."
"The laser isn't a very good prospect because he would need to be
outside to use it. He would also need some sort of directioning device to
find whoever he wanted to talk to."
"He could be a crew-member on one of our ships," added Joe.
"That's true," admitted Sal. "I had thought of that also."
"Is there any other way that you can come up with?," asked Charlie.
"No, not really, other than by direct contact but I can't see how
that is possible. I refuse to believe there is more than one saboteur on
Alpha. How would he get into direct contact?"
"How indeed," said Charlie.
"How?," asked Joe. "Now wait a minute. A while back, didn't an
unidentified mining ship land a couple of men on the North pole?"
"Yes!," exclaimed Sal. "It's not that uncommon, really. Usually a
ship will pass by and look us over and then keep going."
"But three or four times a year," continued Joe, "one comes by that
is more persistent and actually lands men for a closer look!," he said
triumphantly.
"What if they were not really looking at the asteroid but picking up
or dropping something off?," asked Charlie.
"Possible," said Sal. "Very possible. But how do we check it out?
Whatever they left behind has been long since retrieved."
"True," admitted Joe. "And going out there would probably tip whoever
he is off. No, there has to be another way."
"How about if we set up a fake drop?," asked Sal.
"You mean use one of our own ships as the courier?," Asked Joe.
"Sure. If we remove the transponder that the security ship
recognizes, then they will not know it is us. Then we sit back and watch
what happens. Hopefully our agent will think it is an emergency message
drop and go out to see what is there."
"Assuming of course that this is really how they communicate," added
Joe.
"Sure," said Sal. "But there is no harm in trying, is there?"
10
"I think it is definitely worth a try," said Charlie. At least it
will eliminate one method of contact. And right about now we need to start
eliminating as much as we can. We also need to catch this guy before the
giant-killer leaves for Earth."
"Yes, you have that right," agreed Sal. "Who do you think we should
get to fly the mission? I think we should keep as much of a lid on this
thing as possible."
"The three of us for sure," agreed Sal. I'll be happy if we can keep
it among just the three of us."
"That may be hard," interjected Charlie. I'm sure that Director Yoon
will not let Joe and I just waltz off with one of his ships without a good
explanation."
"Yoon then," agreed Sal. "Anyone else?"
"Shaun O'Cassidy," said Joe. "Charlie here isn't a pilot and I sure
would like a backup. Or be the backup for that matter."
"Shaun or Michaela?," asked Sal. "Of the two, to be honest, Shaun is
the better pilot. And Michaela's boyfriend might wonder about any
unexplained absences. Shaun would be better."
"Done then. "Anything else?"
"The Maintenance Chief," said Charlie. "We will have to disguise the
ship so it won't be recognized. Who better than him?"
"Can't we do that ourselves once you are away from Alpha?," asked
Sal.
"Have you ever tried to paint in a vacuum?," asked Joe. All of the
liquid in the paint boils away, leaving a powder. It has to be done
pressurized."
"That's assuming we paint," said Charlie. "How about big metallic
decals?" We can place them over the numbers, and we can make other
magnetic pieces to attach here and there, breaking up her lines.'"
"Excellent," said Sal. "We can occupy one of the big unused labs out
near the north pole. There is one there that we can open to space to
remove everything we come up with. Then all we have to do is pick it up on
our way out."
"I see we have our work cut out for us for a few weeks," said Joe.
"You all realize that we must not shirk our normal jobs to remain
inconspicuous."
"I see I am soon going to dislike espionage," complained Charlie. At
least once I start to lose sleep, that is."
"I," said Sal, "will talk to Director Yoon. Who wants to fill Shaun
in. Charlie?"
"I'll do it," Charlie agreed. "I seem to get along with him better
than Joe does."
"You're just the only one he can beat at cards," said Joe. "Of course
he likes you."
The three men left the room one at a time, Joe leaving first and
heading back to his room, followed a short time later by Charlie, heading
toward Shaun's room.
Sal left last, waiting till both were out of sight before heading for
a meeting with Director Yoon."
"I've got three more things," said Randy, over the comlink into Dr
Quade's lab. "Two I don't understand and one that just looks suspicious to
me."
"Okay," said Charlie. "Send them over and I'll have a look at them.
The watching game had been going on for two weeks now and so far they had
turned up nothing definite. Charlie turned to Joe, who was visiting him,
the Giant-killer undergoing a few last-minute changes.
"Either he isn't our man or he's laying low," said Charlie. So far he
hasn't done anything to raise suspicion. One thing I want to know is, what
was he doing in sanitation?"
"I asked about that," Joe admitted. "It seems that no one trusts him
around the computers. After what he did to worldnet, no one wants to take
the chance."
"Except Sal."
"I don't think anyone other than us know he is doing what he is
doing," said Joe. "I am positive that Director Yoon would have a fit if he
knew. He is the man who insisted on keeping him out of the compnet. And
has single-handedly kept him away since he got here."
"And how long is that?," asked Charlie."
"Six years or so."
"Six years?," asked Charlie. "He doesn't look that old."
"He is the youngest deportee on record," agreed Joe. He was sent here
when he was eleven."
"He crashed Worldnet at eleven?"
"No, ten. It just took them a while to catch him!" Said Joe to a very
surprised Charlie.
The next day, both Charlie and Joe received a summons to meet Sal in
a small conference room close to Sal's office. Arriving there, they found
Sal waiting with Shaun.
"I have filled Shaun in on nearly everything that we have discussed,"
began Sal. We have also called up the comp records and checked all of the
different ships that have landed here in the last two years. Would either
of you care to guess at what I found?"
"We were right?," asked Charlie hopefully.
"Yes!," said Sal triumphantly. "We have identified three different
ships that have made nearly ninety percent of the landings. And they also
made a number of flyby's without landing. Clearly someone knows we are
here. And most likely it is someone we don't want to know!"
"Then we are going ahead with the plan?," asked Joe.
"Most definitely," agreed Sal. "But we now have to disguise our ship
to look like one of the regulars. Or our spy might not take the bait."
"Absolutely," agreed Charlie. "We haven't gotten our disguise
department into full production yet so it should be no problem to complete
the new disguise."
"Very good," agreed Sal. "Captain O'Cassidy here has agreed to be
either chief pilot or backup, whichever you decide," finished Sal, leaving
the final choice up to Joe."
"I am completely comfortable to act as backup," said Shaun. "After
all, this is your operation. I appreciate being let into it but I feel
that it is your show."
"Thanks," said Joe, appreciating what the older man was doing. They
both knew that as a senior pilot he could demand mission commander status
and get it if he wanted.
"So what do we do now?," asked Shaun.
"Finish work on the ship," said Sal. "Director Yoon has already been
apprised of the new situation and he is planning on moving Alpha as soon
as we catch the spy."
"How often do you move Alpha?," asked Charlie curiously.
"Every couple of years or so," said Sal. "We have been here nearly
three years now.
"And how soon after arriving here did the ships start arriving?,"
continued Charlie.
"Hold on a minute," said Sal, turning to his comp. He was silent for
a few minutes as he compiled the data.
"Almost exactly one month," he reported finally. "I missed that
before because I only went back two years. "Interesting though. Somehow
they know when we move and where we go almost immediately."
"There are a number of answers to that," said Charlie. "The easiest
is to keep a telescope centered on us. Or just as easily, a microwave
laser. That way the laser could keep track of us automatically. If we
move, the laser simply tracks us. Simple, neat, and hard to break."
"And easy to check," said Charlie.
"I'll get on it immediately," said Sal. "I can order a random sweep
of all frequencies without telling the monitors what specifically we are
looking for."
"But if we are being monitored, what can we do about it?," asked
Shaun.
"We break the lock," said Charlie. "One thing we can try is to
determine the frequency of the return signal and feed them a signal that
is amplified a couple of hundred percent and attempt to burn out the
receiver."
"That depends on how sophisticated the equipment is," said Joe. "If
it is a sampling type receiver, it will simply shut down when it begins to
detect an overload, and we cannot take the chance on that. We have to shut
it down the first time because we won't get to use the same trick twice."
"I agree," said Sal. "The only way we can assure ourselves of
removing the trace is to remove the equipment ourselves, permanently."
"Or at least long enough to find a new hiding place," said Charlie.
"Director Yoon will not like this," predicted Sal. "He was mad enough
about moving in the first place."
"But surely he understands the importance of remaining hidden?,"
asked Joe.
"He agreed to move," said Sal, in reply. "He just isn't happy about
it. It takes a lot of fuel to move this rock. And we don't have a lot of
that to spare."
"Then it's time to bring Vittorio Lisenring into our little
conspiracy," announced Charlie. "What we have been doing this last week
has actually fallen under the guise of dirty tricks. And now I believe we
need the experience of his organization."
"I'll call him. If he's free, we can fill him in now," said Sal,
turning to the room comp.
After a few minutes, the door annunciator chimed and Sal released the
comp lock, allowing Jodane to enter."
"Good day gentlemen," he said, seating himself in one of the empty
chairs. "A fine bunch of conspirators if I do say so myself."
Sal looked surprised. "What brings you to that conclusion?," he
asked.
"You all have been acting strange for the last two weeks now. A lot
of us know that you are cooking something up but no one seems to know
quite what!"
"Are we really that transparent?," asked Joe, also somewhat taken
aback.
"Transparent?, no. The secrecy of your group is admirable. Slightly
opaque is more like it. Something is going on and everyone who knows of it
is being very tight-lipped. I must congratulate you on your ability to
keep a secret."
"Well, now you get to find out what is going on because frankly, we
need your help," said Sal.
"I am flattered to be asked to join such a distinguished group and I
am curious about what I could add."
"Quite a bit really," said Charlie. "Mostly your experience in
running a dirty tricks department."
The four of them spent most of the afternoon filling Jodane in on
what was happening and found they had picked the right man. He had a
number of good suggestions.
"Laser?," said Jodane, to the surprise of the group. "We found that
long ago. There just has been no reason to do anything about it yet."
"What?," stuttered Sal. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Say what? There was nothing anyone could do about it until we move
again. But when we do, watch out!"
"What do you plan to do?," asked Charlie."
"We have a mega-laser set up, primed and ready. When we get ready to
move, we'll fire it back along the path of the infrared and fry it good!,"
he said, laughing. We'll teach them who to watch and who to leave alone!"
"Not bad," said Joe, impressed. "But didn't you ever wonder who was
watching us?"
"That was easy too. The laser is on a big military asteroid twenty
degrees ahead of Ceres." He turned to address Charlie. "I believe you
referred to it as the 'Rock' a while back!"
"Damn," said Sal. "What else do you know? I thought that the location
of the Rock was a secret."
"It's hard to be secret when they advertise it so well," said Jodane.
"Although to be truthful, we found them long before they found us."
"But how did you find them?" asked a curious Joe.
"Radiation," explained Jodane. "Ceres used to be the asteroid body
with the highest amount of radiated signals. About four years ago they
were surpassed by the Rock. It's like putting a beacon up for those who
can read it!"
"And you can?," asked Joe.
"Of course," replied Jodane. "Whatever we have to do to survive is
worth the effort. And anything that will give us an early warning helps us
survive."
"Agreed," said Sal. "I have no problem there. But how can we turn it
to our own advantage?"
"Frying the laser will help," said Jodane. "But it will just spark
off a big hunt until they find us once again. We need something else to
distract them. We also need a way to replace the fuel and reaction mass we
will use in moving this bus."
"Got any ideas?," asked Shaun.
"One," Jodane said. "Disguising a ship to match one of the watchers
is good but I suggest we take it one step further. If we set up a big
telescope and watch Ceres, when one of the ships leaves, we can fake an
accident, like say, an asteroid strike in the main fuel tank and return to
Ceres. We then allow them to repair the break and refuel the ship for
free!"
"Not bad," said Shaun admiringly. "Not bad at all."
"But there is more to bringing off that kind of masquerade than just
returning to Ceres with a damaged ship," objected Sal.
"You are absolutely right," agreed Jodane. "That's where a good dirty
tricks department comes in handy. We have been actively collecting
information about all of the ships in this quadrant of the belt and
keeping anything about any ship that happens to come our way. I have built
up a system of spies and watchers. Hardly anything happens on Ceres that I
don't know about."
"So what do you think we should do?," asked Sal.
"Finish disguising the ship, first," said Sal. "I can assemble a comp
package that can convince the security comp on Ceres we are anyone we want
to be. But I want my comp expert back first!"
"Comp expert?," asked Sal.
"Yes. Randy. I have been using him for quite a while now to assemble
packages that I don't want any other department to find out about. He is
the best on Alpha, and probably the best in the belt."
"Then would we be off-base in assuming he is our spy?"
"Randy a spy?," laughed Jodane. "Hell no. But he is loyal. He has
been reporting to me regularly but will not tell me what he is
specifically doing, just that it is interesting work and that I should
find some way to get involved!"
"That relieves my mind on a number of things," said Sal. "He's your
man then?"
"Always has been," admitted Jodane. He was the first man I recruited
into the department."
"So we will have to look somewhere else for our spy?," asked Shaun.
"It looks that way," agreed Sal sadly.
"Anyway, we will find him later," said Charlie. First thing to do is
modify the ship. Two of the courier ships are of a class we have a few of.
It shouldn't be hard to do a general disguise and then finish the job on
the way to Ceres once we find out which identity we will assume."
"Yes, good," agreed Sal. "I will go talk to Director Yoon right away
and tell him of the new developments. I am sure he will release a ship to
us immediately and we can get to work on it tomorrow."
The four men nodded in agreement as Sal left the room, looking for
the Director.
The next day the maintenance supervisor had a small ship moved into
one of the empty rings and erected a bubble around it, locking it onto the
collar before pressurizing it.
Joe watched the entire operation seated in the supervisor's office.
He was impressed by the competence of the men doing the transferring,
completing the task far earlier than he would have believed.
Once completed, Joe entered the ship through the lower airlock and
began inspecting the ship to see what kind of modifications it would need.
The first thing that was done was assembling a large reaction mass
tank inside the main hold. This would hold enough water to get them to and
from Ceres. They then punctured the main tank and placed a flimsy patch
over the hole, then refilling the tank with a small amount of water. The
whole modification job taking three days to complete. The repainting took
longer but by the end of the week all general modifications were done.
By this time, the magnetic decals had been finished by the lab and
soon loaded onto the ship in preparation of the launch, and the day soon
came when the ship was moved out from her bubble and moored with the rest
of the fleet, awaiting her mission launch.
Jodane, with the help of Randy had quickly completed the programming
package and installing it in the ships comp core long before she was ready
for launch.
Charlie had taken upon himself the task of setting up the watch on
Ceres, finding three people from his department to do the actual watching
without telling them why they were watching, only what to look for.
One afternoon Jodane entered Charlie's main lab and found him in his
small office examining a comp screen.
"I just got word," Jodane said," that the Javelin, one of the ships
we are watching for, has just left Ceres. The operation is on in eight
hours."
Charlie stood, blanking the screen first. "Finally," he said. Where
are Joe and Shaun?"
"On board, getting ready to go," answered Jodane."
"Fine, said Charlie, pleased. "I want to check out the programming.
Coming?," he asked Jodane."
"Of course," he replied. "Randy is already there, doing just that but
I'm sure he will appreciate the help," he said as the two men left the lab
complex, heading toward the docks.
There they met with Shaun and Joe, watching Randy with interest as he
ran a few complex vaccine programs. "Can't be too sure," Randy said as the
last program ran nul.
"Nothing huh?," asked Jodane.
"No," confirmed Randy. "Clean as a whistle. No one's been in here
since we installed the programming."
"How about hidden viruses?," asked Joe. "After all, we found one in
the coffee pot of the Giant-Killer.
"MY vaccine would have killed it," Randy answered indignantly. "It
checks ALL microprocessor-based systems sharing time with the core. And
with my updated version, any new systems added are automatically
innoculated before allowing them access to the core.
"Sorry," Joe apologized. "It's just that I am nervous as hell and I
am just trying to reassure myself."
"It's okay," said Randy. "I know how it is. I am used to being put
down because of my age. I must not know much because I'm not very old. You
might not have had it happen to you but I am sure you understand."
"Everyone back to work," announced Shaun. "We can all get together
and socialize after it's all over. I don't know about you," he said to
Joe, "But I am going to take a nap and leave the rest of the checkout to
more capable hands," he said, nodding to Jodane and Charlie.
"Yeah," agreed Joe walking toward the airlock with Shaun.
"Sounds like a good idea to me."
A little over eight hours later the pair met once again at the docks.
Sal and Jodane were waiting for them on the bridge of the small ship. "The
dock superintendent has supplied us with an engineer for the trip," said
Sal. "He knows a little, but only what he needs to know to get the job
done. He is waiting on the bridge for you."
Joe stepped forward and grasped Charlie's hand, shaking it warmly.
"In case this doesn't work and I don't see you again," he began.
"Charlie raised a single hand, interrupting Joe. "No," he said. "We
will all get together afterwards and have a little party, okay?"
"Sure," agreed Joe. "That will be fine. Sal stepped forward and
handed Joe a small box. "This is something for the trip back," he said
with a sly grin.
"Good luck," Sal told both of them, stepping back out of the airlock.
Neither man said anything as Joe sealed the hatch with one final wave.
Together they went back to Security's monitoring room to watch the
departure. In silence they watched the ship detach itself from the mooring
mast and, using the least possible amount of power, carefully turned the
nose of the ship towards the big exit door and slowly slipped out and into
space."
"There they go," said Sal at last, as the hatch closed behind them.
Neither man said anything else, lost in their own private thoughts about
the mission.
11
Joe sat silently in the copilot's chair, watching as Shaun slowly
maneuvered the small ship out of the spinning asteroid. Privately he was
glad that Shaun was piloting. Although he had flown this maneuver many
times in the simulator, it wasn't the same as real life. In the simulator
if you made a mistake, you tried it again. Here there would be no second
chance.
Finally the huge hatch slid out of view behind them and they were
confronted by the vista of open space. Joe let his eyes scan all of his
instruments, monitoring their progress even though he wasn't doing
anything yet.
Slowly Shaun applied power to the engines and the ship began moving
faster and faster. "Give me the coordinates for Ceres," Shaun asked
tersely, keeping his attention firmly on the tasks at hand.
Joe fed him the data from his own station comp, saying nothing,
trying to keep from distracting Shaun while he worked.
Shaun piloted the craft slowly, twisting his ship through the small
cluster of asteroids that were as much protection for Alpha as a nuisance
to the ships flying there.
Finally, the last of the rocks safely behind them, Shaun set the
autopilot and released control of the ship.
"We have only a few minutes before we have to be in the plotting
room," he said. "Shall we go?"
The two men released their safety harnesses and made their way out of
the bridge and into central plotting. "How long is the flight to Ceres?,"
asked Joe.
"About ten days total," said Shaun. "I want to get us up and out of
the plane of the ecliptic and away from the main rock areas. Luckily for
us, Alpha is situated right on the edge of the plane so it won't take
long. Then the autopilot can take us in most of the way. A couple of hours
here and we will be all done."
"Good," said Joe. "I don't want to think about flying all of the way
there without an autopilot!"
"Neither do I," laughed Shaun. "Had that been the plan, we would have
needed more people than the minimum possible."
Together the two men maneuvered the small ship until it was well
clear of the main body of asteroids and well out of the plane of the
ecliptic, finally turning over all control to the autopilot. "And now we
wait," said Shaun. "Chess?"
Joe and Shaun spent the next eight days engaged in various games of
skill and chance until the comp chimed for attention and it was time to
reenter the belt.
"I hope you got enough sleep," said Shaun. "The next forty-eight
hours are going to be rough!"
And rough they were. One of them had to be in plotting at all times,
to insure they didn't really get hit by an asteroid. They split the day
into eight hour watches, each sleeping six of their off-duty eight hours.
Twelve hours out of Ceres they were met by another mining ship,
larger than they were and much newer.
"Do you require assistance?," the new ship had asked after both had
identified themselves.
"No, thank you, signaled Shaun. "But you could signal Ceres and tell
them we are coming in damaged. We lost our antennas in the strike."
"You are lucky that's all you lost, except fuel," came the quick
answer. "We will be glad to let them know you are coming in."
Four hours out Ceres they were met by a tug who followed close
alongside in case they needed assistance after all. Joe met the chief
engineer and assisted him in rigging a temporary antenna, finally
regaining communication with Ceres.
"Ceres port to Ship Javelin," came the call shortly after completing
the hookup."
"Javelin here," called Joe.
"Please feed us a damage report. You are vectored in to pad C7,
closest to the maintenance shed. Are there any injuries?"
"Be advised, Ceres port, there are no injuries to personnel. The
asteroid hit the main fuel tank after shearing off the main antenna array.
Stand by and I will link in our comp for a complete damage report."
"Standing by, Ship Javelin. Our comp links are in."
This was one of the important parts of the operation. Embedded in the
damage report was an insideous little virus that would enter both Shaun
and Joe in the Main Ceres comp but under fictitious names.
"Ship Javelin, we have your report. Maintenance will be ready when
you arrive."
"Ship Javelin out," reported Shaun. "We will be landing in
approximately two hours."
"Ship Javelin, if you need to contact us, use emergency channel D.
That has been set aside for your traffic only. Ceres Base out and good
luck.
After about two hours, with Ceres looming ahead, Shaun called back to
Ceres Port Authority, requesting landing permission. With luck, the virus
had done it's work and both he and Joe were now listed as crew-members. In
any case they would know soon enough."
"Ship Javelin," replied Ceres. "You are vectored in as an emergency
landing, although we understand you are in no immediate danger. You may
land at your convenience."
"Ceres Port, Thank you from the Captain. Crew-member Michaels will
meet your maintenance crew at the main airlock, to start repairs. You do
understand that we have to be away again as rapidly as possible?"
"Affirmative, Ship Javelin. We have a priority in our comp concerning
you. We will get you repaired and on your way as soon as possible."
"Thank you Ceres Port. Ship Javelin out until after landing." Shaun
cut the com channel and turned to Joe. Well, crewman Michaels, it looks
like they bought it. Good luck to you. I would help but I might be
recognized."
"I understand completely," said Joe. I hope that this doesn't take
long though."
"Yes, me too," agreed Shaun. "The longer we wait the more might go
wrong."
Shaun brought the Javelin in to a perfect landing on pad C7, nearly
exactly centered in the big landing ring. Joe was waiting at the airlock
in his pressure suit waiting for the all-clear before opening the door.
Finally the signal came and Joe stepped through the opening door and
jumped lightly down to the surface of Ceres. Close to the ship lay the big
maintenance shed, where most of the light work was done on the fleet.
Anything heavier was done at the shipyards on the back side of the
asteroid. Alpha had carefully calculated what could and could not be done
here and had tried to keep the job well within the capabilities of Ceres
Port.
Waiting for him on the surface were two men wearing suits marked with
the distinctive colors of the Maintenance crew. "Crewman Michaels here,"
announced Joe over his suit-to-suit com channel."
"Let's see what you did to her," came a gruff reply from one of the
suits. Joe assumed it came from the senior man but he was unable to be
sure.
He led them around the ship until they were below the puncture and
the temporary patch. He stood and watched as the two men jetted upward to
inspect the damage.
"How much reaction mass did you lose?," one asked.
"Nearly all," Joe answered. "And what we saved we used getting back
here. We're lucky to have made it in one piece!"
"You are lucky all right. We can slap a better patch on her.
It won't be a pretty job like the yard could do. And it looks like
the antenna array you have will be okay for now. But be sure to get it all
repaired when you next go in for refit, okay?"
"No problem there," agreed Joe. "We are in a bit of a hurry right now
and we really don't have enough time to get a permanent job done right
now."
"We'll get you back into space safely," the man said. Give us a few
hours and you'll be done. If you wish, you can wait in the sheds."
"Where are you headed?," asked the Maintenance chief after Joe had
removed his helmet and accepted a cup of hot coffee.
"Don't know," he said. "Never tell us anything."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. All they told us was you were coming in
holed and needed a rush job. We'll do it fast but it'll be done right.
You'll have no trouble with those patches when we are finished."
"It looks to me like you all know what you are doing," agreed Joe.
"Mind if I use your comp?," he asked innocently.
"Sure, go ahead," the man said.
Joe shrugged his upper body out of the pressure suit and then walked
over to the comp. He seated himself behind it, giving himself a complete
view of the room before entering a twelve digit number on the keyboard.
He smiled to himself when he saw that the password that had been
entered with the virus take effect and allow him complete access to the
computer system. He entered Shaun O'Cassidy's name and checked the status
of his family He then removed a small chip from his pocket and inserted it
in the reader, entering the data. He watched carefully as the chip built
up a fictitious account, which allowed them to draw liberally from the
stores of Ceres. He then entered a list of items needed by Alpha from a
second chip, and then sent it over to stores to be filled while the ship
was refueled.
He logged off and shut the machine down before putting his pressure
suit back on. He reclaimed his helmet and walked over to the main door,
heading back toward the airlock. "Thanks Chief," he said to the
Maintenance supervisor. "Good coffee."
"Wife not at home?," he asked.
"Uh.. No. I left a message though," he said quickly, covering his
initial confusion.
Once back outside, he stayed away from the ship and observed the
operation going on. He nodded briefly as one of the two men passed him on
the way back to the shed. "You don't mind," he said to the man, "If I stay
out of your way and watch, do you?"
"Don't mind at all," came the friendly reply. "Just be sure you ARE
out of the way. It can be a bit dangerous if you don't know what you are
doing."
Joe smiled to himself. With his experiences on Leo and Armstrong, he
probably knew as much about space construction as both of these men did
but he knew enough not to let them know that. Instead he contented himself
to sit back and watch.
Joe found himself a seat outside the Maintenance shed and plugged his
suit air into the shed's supply, refilling his tanks as he did so.
The man soon reappearing with a portable welding laser and a big
steel plate with a ring attached to it.
He jetted back up the side of the ship and, with the help of the
other man, soon had the ring welded to the side of the ship, directly
above the temporary patch. They both then dropped down to the surface.
Soon a tanker truck appeared and they, assisted by the crew of the
truck soon had the main tank emptied into the truck.
Next a steel cable was lifted and threaded through the ring Then a
platform was hoisted up the side of the ship to serve as a stable work
platform.
Finally, one of the men sprayed the polymer patch with a dissolving
agent and the whole mass of the temporary patch dissolved into a liquid
that soon boiled away, leaving nothing but brown powder where the patch
had been. They carefully inspected the puncture, then, using a more
powerful laser powered by a cable stretching up from the maintenance shed,
cut a larger hole in the skin of the ship, baring the hole in the tank
itself.
Large steel plates were carried out of the shed and then measured and
cut to fit over the holes, the two men not bothering to even out the
jagged edges of the inner hole.
After working for about four hours, the first patch was finally ready
to be hoisted up and welded into place, soon followed by the second and
much larger patch.
Finally, six hours after the job was begun, the crew was finished.
They dropped the platform down to the surface and then pulled out the
cable, leaving the ring attached to the ship to be used by the yards later
when the permanent job would be done.
"We will have you hooked up to the fueling station in about a
half-hour," he said. Then it will be about two hours more to top off your
tank."
"Well, I better be getting back inside," said Joe as the two men
disappeared inside the shed.
He walked slowly back to the ship, peering upward at the small dot in
the sky that was the sun. "So far away," he thought, momentarily homesick
for the warm sunshine of Earth. He missed the wind and the sea, being able
to look down and see the Earth floating below him. Out of reach yet close
at hand. Knowing he could go back at any time had kept him from missing
Earth while in space. But now, he didn't have that assurance and the
distance he was from Earth finally hit home.
He clambered up the ladder welded to the side of the ship and swung
into the airlock, cycling through before removing his suit and replacing
it in the locker near the entrance. He found Shaun in the control room,
monitoring the communications channels.
"No sign that we are suspect yet," he reported to Joe.
"Good. I got our order in but I'm not sure that it will be here in
time to catch us. If it makes it, it will be close. They are about ready
to start filling the tank up."
"Good. We cannot afford to wait if the trucks do not get here in
time. We will just have to wait and see."
"The order that Joe had entered was a list of equipment needed by
Alpha. It was disguised as an order from the Rock and to be sent out by
next available ship. Hopefully they will have it ready before the Javelin
left, otherwise there would be some very puzzled clerks on the Rock when
the order arrives.
"I also pulled this from the comp," he said, handing Shaun the chip.
Shaun placed it in the reader and dumped it's memory into the bridge
comp. Joe had asked for a complete history of Shaun's family after the
Runner accident.
"Smart woman," he said finally, wiping a tear from his eye. "She
entered a one year open-ended contract, renewable by agreement of both
parties. This way when I do come back, if she wishes, she can come back
with me. Or not, if she so chooses."
"And that," thought Joe, "is where the tear came from. Not knowing if
she will terminate the contract when Shaun reappears." At least he held no
animosity toward her. They both knew that a woman with kids had to have
the security of a husband in order to survive. It was tough on any single
person but doubly so on a single parent family.
"It's for the best," Joe said, trying to comfort the older man.
"She'll be back. Don't worry."
"Maybe, but then, maybe not. Who knows how long it will be before we
return. And what then? What if she truly loves him?"
"Neither of us can answer that." Neither man said anything for a
while. "Well, we have a job to do. Let's not let our feelings get in the
way of what we have to do," said Joe at last.
Shaun shrugged, throwing off his gloom. "You're right," he said at
last. "Let's see what they are doing to us."
They switched the main monitor on to watch the progress of the
refueling operation. They were just in time to see a big tractor dragging
a large hose approach the ship and mate the end to the Javelin's exterior
refueling station. Shaun switched on the flow meter to monitor the filling
process and it wasn't long before water started to flow into the big tank.
Up on the bridge they could feel the vibrations as the water splashed into
the tank.
"Look," said Joe, pointing out a pair of large pallet trucks
approaching from a distance. "They are better than I expected. Here comes
our order!"
"Damn, partner, we are going to get away with it after all," laughed
Shaun, all traces of despair long gone.
"I'll go down to the lock and help in stowing the pallets," he said,
leaving the bridge in the very capable hands of Shaun.
Below, Joe got into his pressure suit and entered the auxiliary cargo
hold and then swung the large cargo hatch open. He watched the two trucks
maneuver around the large hose and approach the ship, one stopping and
allowing the other to back into position. A powerful hydraulic cylinder
then raised the bed of the truck up to match with the lip of the cargo
hold.
Joe, assisted by a handler from the truck, quickly moved the covered
palates into the ship. The second truck then backed in and soon the
loading was completed, Joe waving good-bye as the handlers climbed back
into the trucks. He then swung the hatch closed as the two trucks pulled
away from the ship and headed back to the cargo depot.
Not long after that the tank showed full and the hose was
disconnected and dragged away from the ship. "Ship Javelin," announced the
bridge comp, "this is Ceres Port."
"This is Ship Javelin," answered Shaun. "Go ahead Ceres Port."
"You are cleared to leave when ready," ship Javelin. Emergency
channel D is now cleared and any other instructions will be sent over the
normal ship channels."
"Understood, Ceres Port. We wish to leave as soon as possible,
already being far behind schedule."
"Ceres Port out, Ship Javelin. Have a safe trip."
"That's that," said Shaun to Joe. "Call down to engineering and ask
for max power as soon as possible?"
Joe turned to his communicator and called the engineer below. "He
reports that he kept the engines hot and ready to go. You have full power
now if you want it."
"No sense in making them mad," said Shaun. Lets make a nice, low
power lift as if we belong here, okay?"
"Fine by me, boss. Take her away."
Below the two felt the rumblings of the powerful engines as the ship
built up power and slowly lifted from the surface of Ceres. Once she was
well clear of the asteroid, Shaun applied more power and soon the Javelin
was rapidly leaving Ceres behind.
"We did it!," crowed Joe in triumph.
"Actually it was like taking candy from a baby," said Shaun. "They
never had a chance."
"True. But then, that trick will never work again."
"No, but with our hook in their comp, I'm sure that Jodane can come
up with other schemes that will."
They navigated the small ship up and out of the plane of the ecliptic
and applied power, accelerating the ship along it's economy curve, saving
as much water as possible, knowing that every drop would be needed by
Alpha.
The days passed quickly once the ship was on autopilot. Then, one
evening Shaun entered the galley, carrying the small package that had been
given them before departure.
"Shall we see what they sent us?," he asked.
"Sure," agreed Joe. Inside was a small bottle of Cognac, real cognac
from Earth. "Damn," said Joe. "I wonder where the hell they found that!"
"I don't know," said Shaun. But shall we try it out? Toast a
successful mission? It's been quite a while since I tasted Earth liquor."
Shaun carefully opened it and, after a short but interesting time,
managed to get the contents into two plastic bulbs. Bottles were never
invented for use in zero-gee.
"Not bad," said Joe finally.
"I agree. But perhaps I will stick with the booze the belt produces.
Much cheaper and this is not that much better. But it is good to taste a
bit of our heritage now and then. To remind us of what we are fighting
for."
Joe said nothing but raised his own bulb in a silent toast to
memories past.
Before long, The rocky area surrounding Alpha came into view on the
radar.
"One last task," said Shaun. Are you ready?"
"Always," answered Joe. Shaun piloted the ship carefully through the
rock field and matched orbits with the large asteroid hiding Alpha.
Together the two of them got into pressure suits and then jetted down to
the surface, spotting a large open flat spot to land on. The spinning of
the asteroid threw Joe off for just a moment but he had no trouble
landing.
Joe pointed out footprints in the dust and they followed them for a
short distance, stopping in front of a medium sized rock. Shaun leaned
over and pressed his helmet against Joe's "I thought all loose rocks had
been removed long ago," he said, puzzled."
Joe leaned over and lifted the rock, and discovered it was much
heavier than he had thought. Suddenly it came loose, revealing magnets set
in the bottom and a hollowed out chamber. "Here's the drop," said Joe to a
surprised Shaun. "Have we got anything to leave?"
Shaun removed a sealed pouch from an outside cargo pocket and handed
it to Joe, who slipped it into the opening and replaced the rock. He was
distracted by Shaun, pointing out a large ship maneuvering in toward them.
"Security," he said simply, Joe nodding in agreement.
Let's take a hint and head back to the ship," said Joe as his comm
chimed for attention. "Time to come back aboard gentlemen," called the
engineer when Joe had acnowledged the call.
Joe nodded briefly to Shaun and together they jetted back to the
ship, confident that the bait had been properly placed.
Finally, all their tasks done, they flew the ship away, out of radar
range and then returned, rearming the transponder so that Alpha would
recognize them. They all were relieved to see the big door swing open,
allowing them access to the interior of the big asteroid and home.
They docked the ship and then turned her over to the maintenance crew
to repair the damage they had done earlier and the emergency repairs done
by Ceres.
Once off of the ship they headed directly to Salvatoro's office close
to the Security monitoring station. They were ushered directly into the
room by a silent Salvatoro, who had set as many cameras in the area of the
north pole to watch.
They had been there about thirty minutes when the door opened and
Charlie entered, selecting a seat and joining the watchers. "You realize
that whoever he is, he may not show for a while yet," said Salvatoro
quietly.
"Yes," said Shaun. "We will probably have to set up a rotation if he
doesn't show soon."
Two hours passed slowly with no sign that their bait was going to be
taken. "Okay, that's enough," Salvatoro announced. "I will finish off this
four hour period. Charlie, you are pretty well rested. How about you
taking the next four hours? Then either Joe or Shaun, it's up to them.
Then, we start all over again. Okay?"
"Sounds good to me," agreed Joe as Shaun and Charlie nodded. "I'm
going to get some sleep. Give me a call in four hours so I can grab a bite
before I am due here, will you?," he asked Charlie.
"No problem Joe," Charlie agreed.
"And then I'll see you in nine hours Joe," said Shaun. "Assuming it
lasts that long."
Last that long it did. They had been watching for nearly four days
and still nothing had happened. Charlie had just arrived to relieve
Salvatoro, preparing to watch for the next four hours. "There has got to
be someone aboard," said Charlie. "They found the rock. And judging by the
description, there is no way that could be natural. And I don't believe it
was left there by the crew that disguised Alpha."
"I agree with you but what are we supposed to do?"
Charlie said nothing, his eyes drawn to the video screens.
"Salvatoro, look," he said.
"At last!," exclaimed Salvatoro. He called Shaun and Joe and telling
them to meet outside Charlie's labs. Salvatoro then entered a security
code and sealed all of the outside airlocks. "That should hold him," he
said. "The outer door will open, allowing him access, but the inner door
will not. And once he closes the outer door, it will not reopen until I
release it."
When they arrived they met Shaun and had a brief wait before Joe
arrived, having been asleep when the call came in.
Joe arrived to see Salvatoro seated at Charlie's comp with the other
two men standing behind him. "There!," said Salvatoro. "We have him! Lock
nineteen, North pole longitudinal ninety. Ready gentlemen?"
"You bet," said Joe excitedly.
"Damn right," growled Shaun. Lets finish this damned thing off."
"Security team, report to airlock nineteen. Do nothing till I arrive,"
Salvatoro said into the comp terminal.
Airlock nineteen was not far from Charlie's lab and they arrived
before the security team, waiting until they arrived to release the man.
Finally four men, three armed with light laser pistols while the
fourth, dressed in body armor was carrying a single heavy projectile
weapon Joe recognized as a shotgun of an early Vintage.
The four men took up positions around the airlock door and Salvatoro
released the controls, allowing the man to step out of the airlock.
Salvatoro signaled the man to take off his helmet.
"Gorge!" Joe said, surprised.
"You know this man?," asked Salvatoro.
"A little," admitted Joe. "So does Charlie. We rode out on the Runner
together."
"I remember him too," admitted Shaun.
"Take him away," Salvatoro ordered the security team. "Lock him in
one of the holding cells. Strip him and put him in a light coverall and
watch him constantly. We will be along shortly."
Gorge Scapata spat once on the floor in front of Salvatoro before
being pushed off down the corridor toward the holding cells.
"Dammit, I want a hook!," shouted Salvatoro. "Anything!"
His two assistants stood in front of Salvatoro's desk and said
nothing. "You two have had him for a week now. Surely you know something
about him."
"Nothing sir. You said no chemicals. He won't talk. Not even to give
his name, and we already know that."
"Damn. He is giving us no choice," said Salvatoro. "Well, keep
trying. And find me that hook!"
Salvatoro stalked out of his office and headed toward Dr Quade's lab
complex. He found that whenever he had a truly complicated problem,
Charlie usually could help him out.
He found Charlie in the lab, working with one of his lab aides over
an experiment Salvatoro couldn't make anything of. "Morning, Salvatoro,"
said Charlie.
"Can I talk to you?," he asked.
"Sure. Come on into my office."
Charlie led the way, stopping briefly to pick up two cups of coffee,
handing one to Salvatoro. "Sit. What's on your mind?"
"Gorge." Salvatoro said. "I have nothing on him and can't seem to get
anything."
"What do you want?"
"Something I can use. Anything. He is obviously an intelligent man,
and I would hate to waste him."
"Do you have anything?"
"No. There doesn't seem to be any information anywhere on him. We
suspect Gorge Scapata is an alias but we cannot even prove that."
"Hm," thought Charlie out loud. "Then I guess we have no choice, do
we."
Later that afternoon, Salvatoro and the security squad took Gorge out
of his cell and marched him off down the equator.
Gorge said nothing until they stopped in front of airlock number one.
"Inside," said Salvatoro.
"Now wait a minute," said Gorge, speaking nearly perfect english to
the surprised group.
"Toss him in," ordered Salvatoro.
Two of the men pushed Gorge into the lock and swung the door shut
behind him, and sealed him in. Salvatoro stepped over to the controls,
watching Gorge through the window who was watching back.
He thumbed the intercom. "Last chance," he said. "Live or die."
Gorge said nothing for a minute. "You're bluffing."
"No. I can't afford to have you free. I need you but only if I have a
hook. Give me a hook and you are free. Otherwise you are out."
Salvatoro started to spin the hand-wheel, bleeding the air out of the
chamber.
"Wait, stop!," shouted Gorge. "What do you want to know?" Salvatoro
could see the sweat beading up on his brow.
"Why did you agree to spy?"
"Why not? I was unemployed on Earth. They promised to take care of my
family if I agreed. Look," he pleaded. "You don't know how it is on
relief. No job. No chance of a job. A wife, two kids, her mother, my
folks, all crowded into a three room apartment. What the hell do you think
I should do?"
Salvatoro stepped back from the controls. "Is there another agent
here?"
"There was. I was supposed to meet him when I arrived but he never
made contact. I finally tracked him down yesterday. He was killed last
year in a handling accident. So as far as I know I'm on my own."
"Let him out," ordered Salvatoro, relieved that he had not been
forced to space the man. He really wasn't sure if he had been bluffing or
if he really would have spaced the man. And he was greatly relieved that
he didn't have to find out.
He stepped up to Gorge once he had been pulled out of the lock. "You
work for me now!," he said. "Remember that. And think of what will happen
to your family if you blow it. Or what I will do to you." Salvatoro found
it easier to play the tough man now that he was face to face and not
threatening to space him.
"Why do you want me?"
"Simple. If I have you killed or keep you out of circulation, they
will try to send in another agent. Controlled, I can feed them whatever I
need to. And if they do try to send in more men, you are the logical
choice to send them to. You are far more valuable to me alive and working
as a double agent than you are dead. Remember that though. As soon as you
become a liability, you are gone. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," said Gorge shakily. "Would you really have spaced me?"
"Damn right," he said, trying to maintain the tough guy role. "And I
still might. But that's the main reason I did not allow my men to drug
you. I wanted your mind clear. A man will do strange things when he has
been drugged that he would never dream of doing normally. I wanted you
sane. Or at least, as sane as you can be."
Jodane stuck out a hand. "Welcome aboard, Gorge."
Gorge took it cautiously and shook it, his grip weak and shaky.
"My family," he said
"As safe as I can make them. As long as you perform as directed,
there is no reason for Earth or Internal Security for that matter to know
of our little arrangement. Or is there?"
"No sir, not at all," Gorge said quickly.
"Good. Go back to work. Your absence has been explained as illness.
Your supervisor knows nothing of what just happened. In fact no one
outside of about a dozen people on board know of your involvement. When I
need you I will contact you.
He turned to his men. "Give him his clothes and let him go."
Sal walked quickly away from the small group, trusting his men to
finish the task properly.
Later that evening, seated in his room with a half-full bottle of
bourbon in front of him, his door announcer chimed and then opened,
admitting Joe.
"Thought you could use a little company." he said, grabbing a glass
and pouring himself a drink.
"I nearly killed a man today," said Sal. "I have never done that
before."
"And you still haven't."
"Yet. But what about next time?"
"We are at war. People die in a war. Usually the man doing the
killing doesn't see the face or the eyes of the man getting killed. Just
the results of the battle. And you never really know if you killed this
one or someone else. That is how most soldiers stay sane. The day you can
look at a man and say 'I killed him' and not feel bad is the day you are
in trouble." Joe took a pull from his glass. "You are a normal, sane human
being who is horrified about taking a life. I am glad to see that. Let's
finish the bottle and talk about it, okay?"
Sal smiled and poured another drink. "Thanks," he said at last. "I
guess I needed a friend now after all."
"No, we always need friends. And drinking alone can kill you."
They all spent the next two weeks preparing for acceleration. All
ships attached to the mooring piers had to be removed, the only ones
allowed to stay inside were the ones firmly attached behind pressure
bubbles. Everything had to be tied down or put into something that was.
The designers had thought of just about everything though. Most of the
larger items had attachments for large powerful magnets to keep them in
place while in free-fall.
At last the day came when the base was ready and the command was
given to remove spin. Director Yoon was in central control overseeing the
whole operation when Jodane entered, looking for him.
"Director," he said, catching the man's attention. "We are ready with
the big laser whenever you say go, sir," he reported.
"Good," Yoon said. "Then you may fire when ready."
Jodane entered a code into control's comp and transmitted the order
to the laser crew. "As the rotation brings us into the proper position, we
will fire. The trace should be terminated in about one minute or so."
They waited in silence. Suddenly, briefly the lights dimmed, then
flaring back to their normal brightness. "That should do it sir," he said.
"If you will excuse me, I'll get back to my station to see how we did."
"Keep me informed," said Yoon, directing his attention back to the
main operation.
Ten million miles away, the surface of the Rock was hit by an
intensely powerful laser. "What the hell was that?," shouted the base
commander to the control room.
"Checking sir. Laser," came the quick reply. "About a hundred
megawatts or so. High frequency pulses. The whole beam lasted about two
seconds."
"I am on my way up there, Lieutenant. Where did it come from?"
"Alpha, sir. They must have found our laser lock."
"Have the sciences director report to me at once in control" he
ordered.
The base commander arrived to find the Lieutenant and the Sciences
Director waiting for him in control. "I thought you told me that they
would not be able to detect the trace, Captain?, can you explain this?"
"No sir," he said nervously, sweat beading up across his forehead.
"They are obviously better equipped than we thought they were."
"You THOUGHT Captain? Not only did they find the lock, they also
happened to have a laser capable of producing over one hundred megawatts
of power, sustained for over two seconds. This does not sound like second
rate technology to me!"
"The laser is nothing new sir," reported the Captain. We have one at
least as powerful here. And I can have it operational in ten minutes."
The commander looked at him in amazement. "No!," he said simply.
"What would you be shooting at? Have you seen pictures of Alpha?
Everything is inside that rock! And since a laser is a surface effect
device, how much damage do you think one would do to Alpha?"
"Then you do not want me to reestablish the lock?"
"HELL No!," shouted the director. "Do you want them to do it again? I
don't. We are here to get the Rock back to Earth orbit and we leave in two
days. I do not want any delays to occur. And someone out there with a
megalaser could do just that."
He turned away and addressed one of the operators in control. "Do we
have a damage report yet?"
"Yes sir," the technician reported. "It is coming in now." He turned
to read off of the screen in front of him. "Most large surface structures
relatively undamaged. Some surface effect but nothing of consequence. The
maintenance shed's windows were blown out and lost complete pressure.
However the emergency doors sealed and contained the breach there. No word
on how many people were in there yet though. Twenty-seven bodies have been
found so far, caught out on the surface when the beam hit.
"An unknown number of vehicles have been disabled but most persons
inside have reported in. The rule requiring suits when operating outside
vehicles seems to have saved a lot of lives. Also, most of the remote work
site domes have not reported in yet and are assumed lost."
"Would you care to step out onto the surface and personally direct
the firing of our own laser, Captain?," offered the director.
"No sir," stuttered the Captain.
"I thought not. Besides, we are not worried about losing contact with
Alpha. We know exactly where they are, or have you forgotten that?"
"No sir, but what if this attack was to destroy our lock prior to
moving?"
"What if it is Captain? We have other ways of keeping track of Alpha.
The laser in fact was set up as a decoy, so that they could find it and
believe that was the only way we could keep track of them. No, Captain.
Let them move. We will find them wherever they go," he said tersely,
terminating the conversation. He turned back to the seated technician. "I
will be in my office. Have a complete damage report sent there as soon as
possible with a list of names of those who were lost."
"Yes sir, right away," said the tech to the departing Director.
Slowly, Alpha reduced her spin until the rock was unmoving in space.
Then, four huge nacelles, spaced equally around the equator rose from the
surface revealing banks of engines. As one they all flared into life and
slowly the big rock began to move away from her position in orbit, flying
back, against the normal flow and away from the Rock. Joe, seated in
Security Monitoring, silently watched the spectacle. "I'm glad I don't
have to fly this thing," he said to Sal.
"It does seem a little complex at first. But you must remember that
we are going very slowly and it is all controlled by computers."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know" explained Sal. "First we will lift ourselves up out of
the plane to get away from the majority of the asteroids and then we will
go looking for a good place to hide. What we will be looking for is a
large cluster of rocks we can slip into and not be noticed. Our advanced
scouts are ahead of us now, searching for just that spot. Then, lastly, we
will be bringing some of the smaller rocks with us. A few of them have
armed outposts in them. One of the defensive systems we have."
"What is their purpose?," asked Joe. This being the first time he had
heard of other manned asteroids near Alpha.
"Two dozen of the smaller rocks have manned posts in them. They are
there to protect Alpha in case of an attack. The idea being that any
attacker will concentrate on Alpha and ignore the smaller rocks, giving
them a clear field of fire."
"Not bad," said Joe, admiringly.
Suddenly, Joe felt a jolt, as if something had struck Alpha.
"Asteroid strike," explained Sal. We fly with the north pole forward.
The skin there is the thickest and can sustain more damage that any other
part of the base. Also, all of the safety doors are closed. If it did
manage to hole us, there is still nothing to worry about.
"Unless there were people there," said Joe.
"No. No one is allowed to be there during flight. Everyone who does
not have a flight station is restricted to their quarters and we do not go
until everyone is accounted for."
"Seems like you know what you are doing," said Joe.
"It's from lessons learned the hard way," admitted Sal. "In the early
days we lost a number of people because of stupidity and shortsightedness.
We are always trying to correct our procedures. The loss of even one life
is too much."
Joe turned his attention back to the main viewing screen. "Not much
to see, is there."
"No, not really. And once we are above the plane, there will be even
less. And once we are there, limited access will be allowed, once we are
well-clear of the main body of rocks. A few hours at most."
Slowly, over the next two days everything returned to a semblance of
normality. Travel restrictions were eased, although no one was yet allowed
access to the north pole area. Joe, Shaun and Michaela spent the bulk of
their time in the simulators honing their ship-handling talents. By moving
the base, the timetable had to be changed and their departure date was now
much closer.
At last the word was passed that Alpha was approaching her new
resting place and all personnel were again restricted to quarters.
Slipping the big base into her new nest amidst the many smaller rocks took
much less time than removing her from the last spot. But given a few
months, the rocks would be spread out, making the approaches much harder.
And compounding the problem would be the two-dozen outpost rocks following
behind them.
Finally the Giant-killer was removed from her bubble and Joe, Shaun
and Michaela were again given control of her. Daily they took her out,
away from the base and ran her through every maneuver they could think of.
But the one thing that they could not test here was the SC drive. They
would have to wait until entering a magnetic field for that."
Director Yoon faced the four people. "You all know what is riding on
this mission," he said simply. "All of us here on Alpha wish you a safe
journey and a successful completion." He briefly shook hands with Joe,
Charley and Shaun before giving Michaela a last good-bye hug.
He walked silently to the docks with them, standing quietly with a
tear in his eye as he watched them climb aboard and seal the lock for the
last time. He remained there, long after they had received departure
clearance and the ship disappeared out of the main access door.
12
Nearly all of Alpha tuned in to watch the departure. A pair of small
ships, attached to the sides of the Giant killer, slowly applied thrust,
backing the ship out of her slip. They then expertly brought her to a stop
in the center of the big ship bay and spun her on her axis, aligning her
nose with the exit port. Thrust was then reapplied and she slid gracefully
out into deep space. Behind them, the big door swung silently closed
behind them.
The two ships remained attached to the bigger ship and continued to
guide it outward toward it's rendezvous with another ship waiting nearby.
The giant killer was brought to a near stop and slowly mated to the nose
of the waiting ship. She would give the initial boost to the giant killer,
allowing maximum speed without using any of her onboard fuel.
Once the mating had been completed a faint blue laser line flickered
between the Giant Killer and Alpha Base. Since all open radio
communication was now forbidden in the vicinity of Alpha Base due to
increased security requirements, all communication traffic was handled by
undetectable lasers.
"Alpha Base here, Giant Killer. Go ahead."
"We are mated up and ready for the initial boost."
"Go for it, Shaun," sent Director Yoon. "Good luck from all of us
here. We have already begun planning the return party."
"Sounds like fun, Yoon," said Captain O'Cassidy. "I hope we don't
miss it. Just wait till we get back though before you start."
"Sure thing Shaun, we'll be waiting. Alpha Base out."
The laser winked out and the big ship's engines flared into life,
slowly pushing the two ships farther and farther away from Alpha Base. The
orbital path took them up and out of the plane where they could begin
piling on the real gee's.
Aboard the Giant Killer the four crew members were busy as they
checking and double checking everything. Joe and Dr. Quade carefully
checked the special programming while Shaun and Michaela occupied
themselves with the engineering systems. Finally Dr Quade declared that he
was satisfied with the operational software and together they went off in
search of Shaun and Michaela. They found them elbow deep in the main
cooling system of the superconductor drive.
"Something wrong Captain?" Asked Charlie.
"No, not really. We are tracing the coolant lines in an attempt to
teach Michaela here how the system was put together. But to be perfectly
honest, I know less than I thought I did. Everything was put together so
fast that I don't know what half of the piping does."
"And I know next to nothing," chimed in Michaela. "Oh, we all know
how the system works, or is supposed to work anyway. But how do all of the
interrelated systems tie together? And where did they put all of the
different components?"
"Maybe we can be of assistance," offered Charlie. "Although I helped
design the system, I don't know how it was put in either. Soon, all four
of them were crawling around, peering under deck plates and generally
making a shambles of a once-immaculate auxiliary machinery space.
"Well, that's the last pipe then," said Joe at last.
"I hope whoever installed this system didn't also install the
plumbing," said Michaela. "If so, we are all in trouble."
"Yes," said Shaun with a laugh. "But at least we now know both how it
works and how to fix it if it breaks down." They all got busy replacing
all of the access covers and loose deck plates.
"What say we all get cleaned up and meet in the galley for coffee?"
Suggested Charlie.
Muttering and nodding in agreement, the four split up and made their
way back to their quarters.
Although the ship was small, it was large enough to contain four
small cabins and two zero-gee fresher booths. It also boasted a small but
serviceable galley where the four could meet for meals and planning
sessions.
"Okay," said Shaun. "Here's the schedule," once everyone had arrived
and settled down. "We stay on this trajectory until we are above the plane
of the ecliptic and into the region we refer to as 'ninety percent city.'
This is the area where ninety percent of all material in the belt is below
us and safely out of our way. We will still have to watch for the last ten
percent but this band is much safer to travel in at high speed.
"If we moved far enough away to reduce it to one percent, we would
have to travel millions more kilometers, at a much greater fuel
expenditure. Besides, the rocks are spread out in this band and we run a
very low probability of hitting one."
"I can accept that," said Joe. "How long before we get there?"
"Not long," answered Shaun. "About ninety six hours from launch time,
which was approximately twelve hours ago. Once there the mother ship will
give us an initial velocity of fifty thousand kph and we will then detach
and take her up from there with our own engines.
"We will cross Earth orbit in about ninety two days. We will then
expend additional reaction mass to slow down and make the grab, leaving
right after that. Hopefully successfully. Any questions?"
"Sure," said Joe with a grin. "But none that you can answer here. So
let's take our best shot and see what happens?"
"It seems to me," said Michaela, "that we are betting an awful lot on
the fact that it will be in orbit waiting for us. How can you be sure?"
"Complex programs," explained Charlie, were written to control the
mass accelerators. Buried in the programming are instructions to launch
that particular package at a certain time. The computers will not let it
go before that. This whole procedure is extremely complex but, if all goes
well, it will be waiting for us when we arrive. But we must be there
exactly on schedule."
"Well," said Shaun. "We have a long trip in front of us and I plan on
having everything on board checked out completely until every one of us
knows each and every system backwards and forwards, understood?"
They all nodded in agreement. "But," continued Shaun. "At the present
time, I am exhausted and I will see all of you in about ten hours.
After fixing himself a quick snack, Joe left the galley and also
turned in. He saw no lights on in Charlie's cubicle and assumed he too had
gone to bed.
"Here it is," announced Joe, studying a pc module through a high
power microscope. "A stress crack, just as I suspected."
"Good," said Charlie. "May I see it?"
"Sure. Take a peek." They were alone in the workshop, the stripped
chassis of the high-resolution scanning camera was strapped to a test
bench while all of it's associated parts lay in closed, transparent bins.
Magnets on the bottom of the bins held them in place on the bench near the
camera.
"It doesn't look too bad," said Charlie finally. "None of the gold
filaments are damaged. If we bridge the circuitry and re-laminate, I think
this module will be fine."
"Good," said Joe. "Shaun will be pleased.
Once reassembled and installed, they ran the system through a series
of tests and finally declared the camera fully operational and turned it
back over to the comp.
They found Shaun in the galley and helped themselves to a coffee bulb
before reporting.
"Good," said Shaun. I am glad it is on-line again."
"Aren't we all?" Agreed Charlie. "The whole mission may ride on the
operation of that camera. I still cannot believe that we do not have any
spare parts for it somewhere."
"Oh, yes," said Shaun. "I forgot to tell you. Michaela found the
spare parts. They were with the fusion drive spare parts in a box marked
'indicator lights'"
"Shit," said Joe. "How much more of this do we have to go through?"
"It's not that bad," Said Shaun. "Now that the camera is repaired all
critical equipment is back on-line."
It had all started when they had gotten out of the main body of the
asteroid belt and the pusher ship had applied thrust. Smoothly at first
but, during the burn sequence, one of the computers had received an error
code and attempted to shut down the engines. The remaining two had
rechecked the data, found the error incorrect and restarted the engines at
full thrust. The resulting three-gee bump shook both ships to the core,
causing more malfunctions than could be quickly handled.
The Major systems, power, lighting, engineering and life-support had
enough redundancy built in that they were not badly affected but the less
vital secondary systems had suffered aboard both ships.
The break-free point had passed ten days ago and the pusher ship was
now limping back to Alpha while the Giant Killer, her own engine sequence
completed, streaked towards Earth rendezvous.
One by one the damaged systems were stripped, diagnosed and repaired
before the crew moved on to the next piece of faulty equipment.
Shaun and Michaela were assigned mostly to support roles because they
simply did not have the expertise that Charlie or Joe did. Michaela, for
the last forty-eight hours had been opening and re-inventorying all of the
cases of spare parts stowed aboard the ship. She had found that almost
nothing had been put in their proper cases. Most notably, she had found
twelve dozen coffee bulbs stowed in the case marked 'camera spares.'
The hatch to the galley swung open an she entered, carrying a bowl of
oranges. "Well, well," said Shaun, pleased. "Where did those turn up?"
"In the last place you would expect to find them, considering our
present problems. In the case marked 'entertainment tapes'."
This brought a few chuckles and Joe asked. What made you look in
there?"
"I found the tapes in the box marked 'Feminine Hygiene' and decided
to look in the tapes case to see what was in there!"
"Oh," said Joe, blushing. "Has everything been found then?"
"No!" Said Michaela, in frustration and anger, her face turning
nearly as red as her long hair. "My hygiene case is still missing. And I
NEED that case! Now!"
"Okay," said Shaun with a grin. "I get the picture. Everyone, lets
get going again. It seems that whoever scrambled everything did a much
better job than we thought." He turned to Michaela. "Have you remarked
everything you have looked in?"
"Yes," she said. "A new number has been inked on them in red and a
new master list has been made. All you have to do is check the cases
without the red numbers and reassign a new one. Then enter it into the
computer along with it's location, understand?"
"There can't be more than a couple of hundred cases left then," said
Shaun. Split up then and everyone take a different storeroom. Hopefully we
can avert the present catastrophe before dinner."
It had taken far less time than that to find the errant case.
Michaela had done a superb job and there were far less than one hundred
cases left to go through. And, surprisingly, a large number of them were
actually filled by what they were supposed to have. And Michaela's missing
case was found in the Galley storeroom in a case marked 'paper products:
napkins'. All but Michaela found humor in the classification.
"I'm glad that that's over," said Charlie. "Now maybe we can get back
to the business of repairing this broken-down workhorse. She still has one
hell of a job to do."
Weeks later, her long range radar, one of the most sensitive ever
placed in a ship her size produced the first clear pictures of the
Earth-lunar system. The big permanent structures she had no problem
identifying but the smaller objects took a while longer. The comp however
quickly filled in the missing data as the different ships communicated
with each other and the Giant Killer tapped their messages.
One of the first things they noticed once the chart was finished was
that the Hermes was missing! She was, at present Earth's fastest ship and
she should have been safely in orbit around Earth. Another thing they saw
was the presence of the Rock. She had arrived approximately thirty days
ago and a lot of work had progressed on her. They could pick out a lot of
the smaller structures with the scanning camera, even this far out.
All four of the crew were in the command module and securely strapped
in. "Okay, boys and girls, this is it! Turnover time." the large ship
turned end for end gracefully and her big engines flared into life and
then building up to full power. The resultant six gees, although very
uncomfortable, was endurable. The Giant Killer quickly shed velocity, her
strong hull specifically designed for smooth hi-gee maneuvers.
And so it went, She burned for ten minutes and then rested for ten,
then re-burned. Finally it was over. They had lost enough velocity so
that, as fast as she was. She was slow enough to perform the operation at
hand and Shaun flipped the ship to it's operational position.
"No radar lock yet," reported Michaela.
"Good," said Charlie. "The computers were programmed to shut down the
long-range radar two hours before package launch. It looks like the
embedded programming has done it's job. They won't know we are here until
we get within range of their short ranges."
They were now entering the Earth-lunar system proper. The radar,
coupled to the scanning camera and a holo tank enhanced by the computer
system clearly showed all of the objects in Earth-lunar orbit. They could
see all four stations slowly rotating, they saw a surface shuttle on close
approach to Leo base the Rock, and the dozens of sleds operating around
the stations and the Rock.
"Here she comes," said Joe, pointing to a small object rising from
the lunar surface. "Right on schedule," chuckled Shaun. It had cleared the
surface and was well on it's way to rendezvous with a waiting sled far out
in space and near the Rock.
"Spin?" Asked Shaun.
"Twelve RPM," came the quick reply from Michaela.
"Tumble?"
"None"
A Chuckle brought three pairs of eyes to Charlie. "No one ever asked
me why a device that was to be mounted in a permanent structure needed a
gyro stabilizer. They all assumed I knew what I was doing!"
Joe quickly got busy with the attitude controls. He assumed control
of the package and quickly stopped all of it's rotation and aligned the
track of the Giant Killer to exactly match that of the package. She moved
in quickly from behind the moon, passing within a kilometer of the
surface, following unerringly it's fleeting quarry.
"Lunar Control, this is the Radar watch officer. I have an
unidentified ship on scan. She just popped up over the lunar horizon." The
junior Lieutenant sat glued to his repeater with a commlink in his hand.
"Roger watch. We have him. Be advised that we are taking control."
"Watch Officer out, Control." The Lieutenant watched his console as
the big comp from Lunar Control took over, cutting him out as an operator
but it at least allowed him to watch. The duty crew, now rendered useless
left their own consoles and crowded around the Lieutenant to watch. A few
flicks of his controls threw the whole spectacle onto one of the big
screens in the room.
"What is it?" Asked one of the technicians.
"I don't know," answered the Lieutenant. "The comp reported a
completely unknown design and no recognizable markings."
"Shit, she's fast," another of the technicians commented. "Where is
she headed? The Rock?"
"Sure looks like it," the Lieutenant answered. "It's hard to tell
without comp control But she's doing over sixty-thousand KPH though."
Aboard ship they were preparing for target acquisition. A strong
cushioning and antishock system had been built into the central chamber,
awaiting it's precious cargo.
"Here we go," said Shaun. "It's gonna get real fast here. Are all
systems operating?"
"Yes," reported Joe.
"Percentage of differential?" Asked Shaun.
"Fifty-three," replied Charlie quickly.
"Engage computer control now," ordered Shaun. Everyone aboard knew
that they needed at least a ninety percent course match at this speed to
insure a safe trap.
Joe acted quickly, engaging the computer which immediately took
command of the engines and thrusters and they all felt the jolts as the
computer tried to match the course of the Giant-killer to that of the
speeding target.
"Sixty-one percent," announced Charlie.
No one else in the cabin spoke, all eyes were riveted forward,
seeking the cylinder that they were relentlessly pursuing.
"Sixty-eight," continued Charlie as the figures came in. The entire
ship now shook with the minute shocks as the computer continued to pulse
the engines and thrusters, bringing the two ships closer and closer into
alignment.
"Forty-five seconds to acquisition," Announced Joe.
"Seventy-three percent," said Charlie.
Now, ahead they could see the cylinder that they had chased across
countless millions of kilometers to find.
"Eighty two percent." Around them, the ship fell suddenly quiet as
the thrusters ceased firing. No word was said among the four as they sped
onward, toward their rendezvous with their fate.
"Fifteen, Fourteen, Thirteen," counted Joe as the cylinder approached
nearer and nearer.
Suddenly, catching the four off guard momentarily, a single side
thruster fired briefly.
"Ninety four percent," announced Charlie, satisfaction coloring his
words.
"Impact," said Joe quietly. Ahead, the Cylinder sped toward them,
passing below their field of view, as if they had flown over it. "Bingo!"
Crowed Joe. "We have it!" All aboard could feel the jar as their precious
cargo came to rest, safely wrapped in its cocoon of webbing inside the
central hold of the small ship.
"Let's get the hell out of here," said Shaun. "I want engine control
now. Disengage computer and brace for full engine sequence."
Joe applied full thrust to the engines and angling the ship away from
her track toward the sled far ahead of them, lying in earth orbit and
awaiting the arrival of the cylinder.
Shaun quickly added delta vee in an attempt to get as far away as
possible before pursuit started.
"She's turning," said one of the watching technicians. "Inward toward
the Sun. What did she want?"
"The cargo pod," blurted the Lieutenant, suddenly realizing what was
missing on his scan. "They stole the pod!" He could see some of the ships
on his scan begin their own main engine sequence, taking up the chase.
"The Eccet its moving," said one of the technicians, indicating the
French ship. "And there goes the Prinz Franz and the Peking Star," he
continued. "They will catch her," he said confidently."
"I don't think so," said the Lieutenant. "The intruder has a huge
lead on them. And at the speed she is going the only ship that has any
chance at all to catch her is the Hermes.
"Maybe so," said the technician dubiously. "But where is she?"
"Mercury," came the quick answer from the Lieutenant. She'll be
waiting there for them. Boy, that's one fight I'd love to watch."
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the World Senate. May I have your attention
please?" Asked Mahjid Bey. One of the wonders of modern communication was
the Holonet. Here he was, sitting in an empty room in blue pajamas and at
the same time he was presiding over the world Senate in an immaculate
pinstripe suit, added automatically to his signal by his comp. In front of
him sat the images of the collected Senators via the net.
Finally the noise leveled off to a point where Mahjid Bey could
begin. "I apologize for this impromptu meeting but circumstances demanded
it. Approximately three hours ago an unidentified ship entered Earth space
and forcefully stole the main synthesis chamber for the Beanstalk!"
The noise level again increased to the point where no one individual
voice could be understood over the others. Mahjid Bey increased the
strength of his own signal and cut the others down before continuing,
effectively drowning out all of the other Senators with sheer amplified
power.
"Please," he shouted. "Order, order!" Even with the additional
amplification he couldn't get their attention. Regretfully he cut in the
privacy circuit and all of the other voices dropped to silence even though
he could see them all trying to talk. The holonet was not allowing any of
the voices of the assembled Senators, with the exception of the Chairman's
to be transmitted.
One by one, they all ceased talking when they realized the futility
of it all. They were effectively locked out until Mahjid Bey released the
circuit.
"Again I apologize, but I must have order. As I said earlier, the
synthesis chamber is gone. We have three ships in pursuit at this time but
they have virtually no chance of catching the intruder. However the Hermes
is in Mercury orbit and will be waiting there for the intruder. She will
then attempt a rendezvous and a recovery of the chamber." Mahjid Bey
removed the privacy lock from his comp, allowing the Senators to once
again speak.
"Who are they?," asked one of the closer Senators.
"We are not sure yet," admitted Mahjid Bey. The ship design is
unfamiliar and looks like it was specially constructed for just this one
operation. But we suspect the Asteroid colonies to be behind it." If the
Hermes doesn't catch her, she has been directed to follow as best as she
can and find her base of operation. As you know, the Hermes is the fastest
ship we have at present and it is doubtful that if the intruder IS from
the asteroids, she will get away from the Hermes.
"And if it isn't from the Asteroids?," asked another. "Who else could
have sent it?"
"That is one of the question we are not even speculating on. We have
too tight a control on Mars for it to have originated there. The best
guess at this moment is the rebel Alpha Base out in the belt."
"Why would they want it?," came another voice from the crowd.
"And how did they know which shipment was the synthesis chamber?,"
asked another.
"That is another thing we cannot figure out," admitted Chairman Bey
reluctantly. "We do not know how they launched the chamber. I have been
extensively briefed by our computer people and they assure me that the
launch sequences are completely automatic and run by the big lunar comp.
Somehow, someone inserted a command that caused the comp to encapsulate
the chamber and launch it twenty months earlier than originally scheduled.
That cargo pod was supposed to carry a shipment of drugs from one of the
lunar medical labs, destined for a research lab in central Europe. It took
us nearly two hours to finally discover what had actually been taken.
"And as to why, our experts feel that it is probably going to be used
as a bargaining chip when the mines of Mercury are in full production.
They know we need it and lack the resources to build another quickly. And
this may put the beanstalk timetable back as much as ten years."
"Ten Years?," Shouted Senator Polkova. She had inherited the seat
recently and was rapidly regaining the respect that her late husband had
held. "We cannot afford the damn thing now! How in hell can you believe we
will be able to afford it then? And what is to be done against the rebel
base? Alpha I believe you called it?"
"Nothing," said Mahjid Bey.
"Nothing is not enough!," Sneered Amiru Polkova. They need to be
destroyed. As long as they are there, they serve as a rallying point for
all of the hotheads in the belt. Gone and they will all be easier to
control!"
"Yes!," Shouted another Senator. "We must regain control of the belt."
"We haven't lost control," said Mahjid Bey. "If we try to destroy
Alpha then there is no telling what they will try next. Let them have the
illusion of some control over their lives."
"You now sound like a rebel yourself," shouted Senator Polkova. "I
move that we declare open war on Alpha base. Wipe out that subversive nest
now while we can." She stood silently, waiting to hear what kind of
support she had.
"She's right, came an unidentifiable voice in the back. "I second!"
"Wait," pleaded Mahjid Bey. "Let's think this over before we do
anything rash."
"Us?," sneered Senator Polkova You forget, Mr president, that they
are all criminals out there. They have no rights! They are the ones doing
rash things, not us. "I call a vote. Show who you support. Earth or the
rebels in the belt."
Mahjid Bey refrained from the vote but turned to watch the tote-board
mounted over his head. He was dismayed to see that, with the exception of
one vote, his own, the entire Senate had voted for war! He shook his head
sadly and turned to face the assembly. "I hope you all know what you are
doing," he said.
"You aren't going to do something stupid like veto it, are you?,"
asked Senator Polkova.
"No, I am not. However I am going to sit on it for forty-eight hours
and let you all think about it. If enough of you come to your senses and
contact me about changing your vote, I will then decide whether to veto or
not. But I will not go against the wishes of the majority."
"This seems to have killed your precious Beanstalk," sneered a
Senator, one of Mahjid Bey's main opponents.
"Maybe," agreed Mahjid Bey. But then, maybe not. We must do nothing
yet but wait and see! You all will be informed of new details as they come
in. Your offices have been given all current data and you may use it as
you wish."
Mahjid Bey cut the transmission, removing himself from the circuit.
It would be morning in about six hours and Allah knew he needed the sleep.
"Scan shows three ships pursuing," reported Joe.
"Do you have acceleration and speed curves yet?"
"Yes," answered Michaela. "Nothing unexpected. Engine flare shows
they are underpowered as compared to the Hermes and ourselves. They won't
catch us."
"Damn," said Shaun. "Where the hell is the Hermes?," he sat still for
a moment, deep in thought. "Where could they have sent her?"
"Mars maybe?," asked Michaela. "Is it possible they sent her there
chasing Dr Quade and she just hasn't returned yet?"
"Doubtful," said Charlie. "First it has been too long ago for that
and I do know that the military likes to keep it's fastest ship in Earth
orbit where they can keep an eye on her. No, she is somewhere else."
"Well," said Shaun. "We do know where she is not. And that's where
she should be. Earth."
"Exactly," said Joe. "So there is nothing to do but play the cards
dealt. Besides if we reach the sun first, it won't matter. With the SC
drive, we can outrun everything!"
"If it works, that is, Joe. If it works," said Charlie gravely. "We
must remember that it is as yet an untested system. We all agreed at the
start that we would engage it only if absolutely necessary. If it is not
needed then it is not to be used."
"Free-fall in thirty seconds," announced Shaun. "The ship is on
course and ahead of the pack."
"The pursuit ships are throttling back also," reported Michaela. They
all knew what the ship's Captains were aware of. Exactly how much reaction
mass they would need at the other end to remain inside their safety
margins.
"Freefall," said Shaun as the engines cut off. "Pursuit status when
available please," he asked.
Michaela said nothing, waiting for the comp to run it's program.
"Okay," she finally reported. "They are also in free-fall. They won't
catch us but we won't lose them either. They will be able to keep their
scanners on us all the way to the sun!"
"Shit," said Shaun. "They are faster than I thought they would be.
When I saw that the Hermes was missing, I thought we might have a chance
at a clean getaway."
"But we expected the Hermes too follow us down," objected Charlie. We
cannot hope to maintain complete anonymity very long and didn't really
expect to anyway."
"Okay," said Shaun. "Stand down from acceleration stations. I want
one person on the scanners at all times. We must keep on top of all
changes in pursuit status."
The other three nodded in agreement.
"I'll take the first watch," volunteered Joe. "Everyone might as well
get as much rest as possible. It's a long fall down."
The military contingent of Internal Security base, Lunar farside
stood rigidly at attention as their commander, Major Efram Caine paced
slowly down the ranks of men. He was followed by Lieutenant Hadley and
Captain Rifman, the base commander. He turned to the Commander. "You may
dismiss your men, Captain. They all look very good. You run a tight base
here."
"Thank you sir," Captain Rifman said in appreciation. He had gotten
only one hour's notice that there would be a surprise inspection of his
troops by Major Caine and he thought the men had done an admirable job in
getting ready on such short notice.
"You office," Major Caine said bruskly, allowing the tall man to lead
them out of the open bay and into a narrow corridor.
They soon reached the large office, and Captain Rifman opened the
door and allowed the two men to enter before him, stopping briefly to
close and seal the door, assuring complete privacy. "I understand that you
keep a number of ships fueled and ready to go at all times, Captain. Is
that true?"
"Yes sir," Captain Rifman acnowledged.
"I will be needing one. I need to go to the Rock and, possibly one or
more of the geosynch's. I will of course need a pilot. He turned to wpeak
to his aide. "Lieutenant, the authorizations."
Lieutenant Hadley opened a hand grip that he was carrying and removed
a thin sheaf of papers, and handed them to Captain Rifman.
"This will give your pilot priority status in the Earth-lunar system
allowing him to go wherever I need to go. How soon will you have the ship
ready?"
"That depends on which one you want," said Captain Rifman. I have two
small ships fueled and ready to go. But they are of limited range. However
I can have one of our long-range ships ready in about two hours."
"I believe that will do just fine," said Major Caine smiling. "Have
the Rock programmed in for the first destination. Until then Captain,
Lieutenant Hadley and I will be in the officers mess."
"Yes sir," said Captain Rifman. "I will see to it at once. And if you
wish to meet the pilot first should I send him to the mess?"
"That will not be necessary," Captain. "We will meet aboard ship in
two hours."
Major Caine allowed Lieutenant Hadley to unseal the door and lead the
way out, closing the door behind them, leaving Captain Rifman alone in his
office.
After they were gone, Captain Rifman quickly ordered the ship to be
fueled and prepared for space and then selected a pilot. He gave the
choices a long thought before finally settling on one man. Something was
going on and he wanted to know what. And the pilot, completely loyal to
him, should be able to supply some of those answers.
Two hours later, Both Major Caine and Lieutenant Hadley were seated
in two of the bridge chairs flanking the pilot selected by Captain Rifman.
"Any time you are ready," said Major Caine.
"Fine sir. Lift-off in thirty seconds." The ship that they were
seated in, although small, suited Major Caine perfectly. It was more than
adequate to get him around in Earth-lunar space quite adequately and, it
could even take him as far as the asteroid belt and back.
Lift-off was a smooth, gentle push. None of the heavy gee's required
to pull free of Earth's heavy gravity well. They were vectored on a
minimum fuel transfer orbit to the geosynch position held by the rock. The
priorities that Major Caine carried did wonders for clearing traffic ahead
of them.
At last they were on final approach to one of the long docking booms
extending out from the Rock. Slowly the ship drifted inward until they
made contact and a flexible tube was finally connected to their outer lock
seal. The two officers then quickly left the ship and the pilot behind,
disappearing into the office complex on the Rock.
"Major Caine," said the Commanding Officer. "This is unexpected."
"Surprise visit. Just came up to look around a little."
"Just look around?," asked the Commander. A long trip just to
sight-see."
"To be perfectly honest, the Senate did ask me to eyeball the place
and make my recommendations."
"Recommendations? About what?"
"Surely you realize that now that the synthesis chamber is gone, we
are reassessing this whole project."
"But we must build another one!," blurted the Commander. "Surely the
Senate realizes the importance of this project. We have far too much
invested to shut it down."
"Not according to the Senate. The hardliners are demanding the
project be shut down permanently. Too expensive, they say."
"But, they can't do that, can they?"
"Of course they can. They pay the bills, after all. Remember, only a
fraction of the cost of the total beanstalk has been spent. We will be
paying for this thing for years to come. Billions of credits are yet
needed to finish the job."
"So what are we going to do here?"
"That's what I am here to find out. I will just nose around and get a
feel for the place. I am sure that there is something we can use it for."
The Commander wrung his hands in anguish. "Is there anything I can do
to help?"
"Just stay out of my way," ordered Major Caine. "I will be staying
for a while and I will need quarters for myself and my aide. We will be
doing some traveling between the stations so I want the ship ready at all
times. The pilot will need quarters also. Preferably near the ship.
Understood?"
"Completely, sir," came the quick answer. I can put you in the VIP
quarters if you wish. Follow me and I will show you where they are."
Major Caine and Lieutenant Hadley followed the nervous commander
along the corridor until they came to a wide door. "Through here sir," he
said, opening the door and allowing the two men to enter the rooms.
Major Caine took a quick look around and turned back to the
Commander. "This will do fine," he said at last, allowing the commander to
flee the room.
"There goes a man who's whole world just fell apart," said Lieutenant
Hadley, indicating the now closing door."
Later, there came a soft knock on the door.
"Enter," called Major Caine. The door opened and Abe Fortas stepped
quickly in and closed the door behind him.
"Abe," exclaimed Major Caine. I am glad to see you made it all right.
Sit, sit," he said, indicating a chair."
"I wanted to report to you as soon as possible," he said, strapping
himself into the chair. Everything you set me to do is done and the plan
is moving along according to schedule.
"You heard the news then?, that an unidentified ship grabbed the
synthesis chamber and is on its way?"
"Yes sir. They could not contain the news, although they tried. The
sled operator had a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He got back here
about twelve hours ago."
"The only thing," admitted Major Caine," I could not control was the
location of the Hermes. She's at Mercury."
"Mercury? What is she doing there?"
"They had an accident that took out most of their life support. The
Hermes rushed needed spares to them, since she is the fastest ship we
have."
"What does this mean to the operation?"
"I'm not sure. It depends on how much reaction mass they have left.
There is always the possibility that they will catch the intruder."
"So what do we do now?," asked Abe.
"Nothing except continue with the plan. The rebels have a good chance
of escaping since she carries nearly full reaction mass tanks."
"Well, I'm ready to go whenever you are," said Abe.
"Good. Lieutenant Hadley is waiting at the ship-lock for us. We will
boost directly out to the belt and Alpha base. I believe it is time to
abandon this sinking ship once and for all."
They carefully made their way to the ship via the surface of the
Rock. They exited by a seldom-used lock where Abe had earlier disconnected
the alarm to central control. They wanted to be sure that no one knew they
were leaving, especially the pilot they had picked up on the Moon. They
were unobserved as they clambered up the boarding ladder and into the
small ship.
"We are ready back here," Major Caine called to Lieutenant Hadley
once they were strapped in and ready for the boost.
Nothing changed as the hours flew by. The Giant killer continued to
pull ahead of the three ships. With Venus well behind them, she had built
up a sizeable lead but still remained well within scan range.
"Shaun to the bridge please," Charlie called over the intercom.
A few minutes later the door on the bridge swung open and Shaun
popped in. "What's up?," he asked.
"Would you like to know where the Hermes is?," asked Charlie. "She's
in orbit around Mercury," he continued before Shaun could say anything.
Charlie flipped out of the seat in front of the scanner and allowed Shaun
to sit. In it he could clearly see the three pursuit ships out near the
edge of the scan, and Mercury, with the Hermes in a fast orbit around her.
Shaun keyed the intercom. "Crew to the bridge please. Man
acceleration stations." Before long all four were strapped into their
seats and apprised of the situation.
"We have a long way to go yet, and now I'm not sure we will make it.
It's a whole new ball-game now."
Mercury orbit lay an hour away and the distance to the solar orbit
needed for the grav-whip lay farther yet.
"She's moving," reported Michaela from the scanner station. Shaun
glanced over to Charlie. "Looks like you will get a chance to test your
new toy after all, Doc."
Charlie nodded grimly but said nothing. Joe, in the auxiliary pilots
seat was operating the navigation equipment and running acceleration and
speed estimates as the Hermes moved.
"FIrst estimate coming in," he said finally. "Engine plume is short
so she is not at full power yet. She's at three point five gee-s, steady.
assuming that her tanks are full she can catch us before we hit grav-whip.
But not at three point five. We will clear the sun ahead of her if she
does not accelerate!"
"By how much?," asked Shaun.
"Uh, lets see. Shit. Twenty-thousand kilometers or so."
"Doc, I sure hope that machine of yours works because we can't escape
her with our engines," stated Joe finally."
Inward they fell, the quarry and its faster pursuer. The hours fled
faster than the kilometers as the Hermes closed in on it's prey.
At last the orbits were warped by the sun. First the Giant Killer,
followed closely by the Hermes and then, far to the rear the Eccet, the
Peking Star and finally the Prinz Franz. Around the sun they streaked,
allowing the sun's gravity to boost their speed.
"Approaching breakout point," reported Joe.
"Good," said Shaun. Ready Charlie?"
"Yes," he reported. "But something is wrong"
"What?," asked Shaun nervously.
"The equipment is fine," Charlie said to calm Shaun's nerves. "But I
have a much higher gauss reading than expected. We somehow miscalculated
the strength of the sun's magnetic field by more than a factor of two."
"What does that mean?," asked Shaun.
"Higher acceleration than we expected," said Charlie.
"That's good," said Shaun "How much higher?"
"Best guess?, eight to twelve gee's."
"No," corrected Shaun. "That's bad." No one else said anything. All
were experienced enough to know what that meant to them all.
"There is nothing to do but go for it," said Shaun. Without it, we
are caught for sure."
"Yes," said Charlie simply.
"Navigation, position," ordered the Captain on the bridge of the
Hermes.
"Nineteen thousand kilometers and closing, sir,"
"Weaponry control, load a dummy missile into #1 launcher."
"Yes sir," answered the weaponry officer. "But I don't understand
sir."
"We want them to stop, not destroy them. They won't know it is a
dummy missile. They will assume it is live. I am trying to scare them into
talking to us."
"I see sir. Missile loaded and locked onto target."
"Fire on my command Lieutenant," ordered the Captain.
"What could cause a higher gauss reading?," asked Michaela.
"Sunspots," answered Joe. "During periods of increased solar activity
the sun's magnetic field increases in strength.
"That's not all that happens!," shouted Michaela. I have a solar
flare on scan!"
"Damn," said Shaun "Let's get the hell out of here. "Charlie, you're
on."
Charlie threw the switches, engaging the supercooling system to the
SC drive and the temperature started to drop toward the critical point.
"You're not going to believe this," shouted Joe. "But I have a
missile on scan! It's from the Hermes!"
"So what else is going to happen?," asked Shaun loudly. "Everyone
brace, we're gonna go, one way or the other!"
Shaun had almost finished speaking when the SC drive cut in, catching
them all off-guard with the surge of raw power. Joe's right arm, fingers
poised on the main engine firing button slammed back into his armrest,
sending a blinding wave of pain into his already acceleration-numb brain.
Mercifully, black overtook him and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Shaun was not so lucky. The surge didn't catch him physically off
guard but surprised him none-the-less. "Damn thing works he croaked, his
eyes focussing on the acceleration meter. "Eleven and a half gees and
steady," he reported.
Michaela also managed to hold onto consciousness, but not by much.
She could see the edges of black trying to push inward and fought it off,
her eyes glued to the scan as the missile crept closer and closer.
Finally, at less than a half a kilometer, the distance between the two
started to widen as the Giant killer pulled away.
"Outran it, Captain," she said to Shaun, her voice lowered to a husky
growl. She did not know if Shaun heard her or not. Finally she too
surrendered to the black and allowed unconsciousness to whisk her away.
Charlie went out with the first wave of acceleration. Older and in
poorer shape, he did not have the stamina of the other three to fall back
on.
Finally, assured the ship was safe, Shaun also let the darkness crawl
forward over his eyes and he too escaped the terrible pressure.
"I don't believe it, sir," reported the Navigation officer on board
the Hermes.
"What is it Lieutenant?," asked the Captain.
"The intruder sir. She's accelerating at eleven point five six three
gees and just outran our missile!"
"Impossible!," he said in disbelief. He pushed out of his own seat
and joined the lieutenant at the scanner. He then accessed the comp and
called up an outside camera view of the fleeing ship.
"No engine flare, Lieutenant. She is not under power."
"Not according to the scan sir," the young Lieutenant said.
"According to the comp, the missile approached within a kilometer of the
ship and is now over ten kilometers away and falling behind!"
The captain bent over the scan, checking the data for himself,
finally accepting the evidence stacked against everything his experience
told him.
13
"Send a message to Earth," ordered the Captain of the Hermes. "Give
them all of the data we possess. Emphasize that the unknown ship, using a
new type of drive system, escaped us in grav-whip.
"Sir!," shouted the Navigation Officer. "I have indications of a
solar flare!"
"Oh shit. Where is it going?"
"Computing." Everyone on the bridge knew of the dangers of solar
flares while in grav-whip. Silence gripped the crew as they waited for the
results.
"It will miss sir, but not by much."
"Good," he said, relieved. "How about the other three ships?"
"They are still in grav-whip, sir," announced the officer. "I don't
know. Let me check."
He swung the main camera array around and increased the filtration to
max. "The Eccet is visible sir, but not the Peking Star or the Prinz
Franz."
"Contact the Eccet. Find out their status. And keep trying to contact
the other two."
"Yes sir," he said although they both knew there was little hope for
them. He tried one frequency after another in a forlorn hope of
establishing contact with the three ships. "Nothing sir. All channels are
dead."
"Navigation, what are our chances of catching the intruder?"
"Zero, sir."
"Then decelerate and match with the Eccet. And continue to try to
find the others."
A number of Yes sir's followed the command as the bridge crew turned
to it's tasks.
"Sir," reported the communications officer some time later. "Message
received from Lunar Command. They request that you recheck your data and
discard all erroneous readings."
The captain shot him a grim smile. "That's a polite way of saying
'your nuts'"
Mahjid Bey faced a strangely quiet Senate. It was ironic that it took
an event of this magnitude to assemble every delegate. This, he believed
was the first face to face session to report one hundred percent
participation in the forty-plus years of the World Senate's existence.
"The Hermes reports that the intruder used completely new type of
drive that appears to be a form of antigravity. It went from Mercury orbit
to Venus orbit in nine hours, which indicates a speed in excess of four
million kilometers an hour. This is far above anything we are capable of.
This data has been verified by lunar command. She will be crossing Earth
orbit in about eight hours."
"Do we have anything capable of meeting it and stopping it?," came an
unidentified voice from the crowd.
"No. It is crossing too far ahead of our position. The Hermes, our
fastest is still down in the vicinity of Mercury and cannot get here
inside of twenty days. And we have nothing else available."
"How about at Mars?"
"Again no. Mars is at present behind us and therefore even farther
out of position. Also, according to the last reports from Lunar Command,
the ship has changed course to lift itself above the plane of the
ecliptic. However, Lunar Command reports she did so with a conventional
drive, not the antigravity drive."
"Is there an explanation for that?," asked another voice.
"The scientists believe it is some sort of gravitic repulsion drive.
It works well going away from the Sun but the ship must be close to the
Sun for it to work. They don't seem to be able to change course with it."
"Who do you think they are?"
"Not human," answered Mahjid Bey. "A man could survive eleven and a
half gees but he would not be happy about it. Any pilot I know of would
cut the drive as soon as they realized they had gotten away. But whoever
is in that ship let the drive operate for almost fourteen hours! Barring
something simple like a drive malfunction, they are aliens."
"What about the survivors from the Eccet?," asked the French Senator,
changing the subject.
"The five men are on board the Hermes and are being brought here as
fast as possible. The Eccet itself is a wreck. Drive systems totally gone
and it's life support and emergency power systems barely operational. It
is repairable but not in space.
"The Hermes is not rigged for towing but a heavy tug has been
dispatched to salvage it. However the Prinz Franz and the Peking Star are
gone. No trace of either ship or their twelve man crews."
Mahjid Bey stopped talking, his thoughts on those thirty-six brave
men who set off in pursuit less than a month ago. Now only five were
returning. And their survival was still in question!"
Joe opened his eyes to see the familiar ceiling of his cabin above
his head. He was strapped into his hammock, with Michaela close by. "What
happened?," he asked, amazed at how tired he was.
"Quiet down and lie still," she answered. "You will be fine and you
are still feeling the effects of the sedation. Your right arm is badly
broken but I have set and cast it. You are lucky. The break was in your
upper arm and the high-gees acted as a tourniquet to stop the blood flow.
it's possible you might still lose a finger or two but probably not."
Joe closed his eyes and tried to rest. "The others?," he asked
finally.
"I am okay. Tired, shook up but physically sound. Shaun is awake and
on the bridge. He looks ten years older but claims he feels fine. I'm not
so sure, though.
"Dr. Quade however is still unconscious. I think he suffered some
internal injuries but again I cannot tell. He is resting lightly and
doesn't seem to be laboring. He has a good strong pulse and respiration so
again I'll just have to wait and see."
Joe could do little more than nod as he slipped back into sleep.
The next time he awoke, Michaela was gone. He carefully unstrapped
himself and slowly made his way to the bridge. There he found Shaun but
again Michaela was nowhere to be seen.
"Feeling okay Joe?," Shaun asked.
"No, I feel like I got spit out an exhaust port. You?"
"Bruised, battered and I think I cracked a rib. But don't tell
Michaela. She'll have me taped up in a heartbeat."
"You're sure you will be okay?," asked Joe.
"My injuries will not kill me, if that's what you mean. However our
other problems just might."
"Problems?, like what?" Joe asked Cautiously. Shaun wore too serious
an expression for Joe's liking.
"We were under power for nearly fourteen hours at eleven plus gees at
the start, tapering down to near zero before the power ran out," Shaun
said bluntly.
Joe did a bit of quick mental math and came up with a figure far too
high to believe. He turned to the comp and entered the figures. The answer
he received made him wish he had believed his first rough calculation. "I
calculate we are traveling at just over four million kilometers per hour,
right?"
"Close enough. We left Grav whip twenty-two hours ago and have
already crossed Venus orbit. It will take us twelve hours more to cross
Earth orbit!"
Joe slid into the navigation station and strapped himself in. "Then
the next question is, how the hell do we stop?"
"That's the problem I have no idea how to solve. I can knock about a
half-mil off by expending our reaction mass, but then what? Damned if I
know!"
"Is Charlie awake yet?," asked Joe hopefully.
"No, not yet. Michaela is tending him but there is no change yet."
"Damn!"
"It's up to us, Joe. We can't expect Charlie to pull us out of
everything."
"Okay, then let's do something. First, I don't like hitting the belt
at four mil plus. Can we get above the plane?"
"Yes. I already ran that one. It's easy enough from here. We can use
a minimum amount of reaction mass. The closer we get though the more fuel
we will have to expend."
"Then let's do it." Joe called Michaela, back in Charlie's cabin and
informed her of the coming operation. She securely fastened Charlie into
his hammock before reporting to the bridge.
"How much does she know?," asked Joe before Michaela arrived.
"Nothing yet. You are the first person I told. No sense in worrying
her more than necessary. She has enough on her mind taking care of
Charlie."
"She has to know," said Joe softly.
"I know, but not now."
"No!," stated Joe. If we don't tell her now, we will have to later.
And later won't change anything. She is a part of the crew and should be
in on everything. Also, if she takes one look at the Њscan, she will know
something is wrong. Mercury should be on it, not Venus.
"You're right," sighed Shaun. "We tell her now, when she arrives."
They sat in silence until the door opened and Michaela joined them.
"How's Charlie?," asked Joe.
"Better," she answered. "He seems to be almost conscious. He has
begun mumbling things that almost make sense. I have hope that he will
awaken in a few more hours."
"Good," said Shaun. "We need him. Badly."
"I knew something was wrong. We were under power too long. The first
thing that I noticed was that the accumulators were dead. Which means the
SC drive was on until the power died. How fast are we going?"
Joe shot a smile to Shaun. Just over four million KPH," he said to
her.
"Do you remember the comment you made just before picking up the
chamber?," she said with a sly grin. "The one about maybe breaking the
record for top speed?"
"I sure do," said Joe with a smile of his own. We sure broke that
one, gang."
"If we can get home to brag about it, that is," pitched in Shaun.
"What are we going to do?," asked Michaela.
"First," said Shaun, "is get out of the junk zone. Once above the
ecliptic we have time to plan and then we will see."
"It seems to me," said Joe, "that the SC drive works on magnetic
fields. Could we do any fly-by's and drop any speed that way?"
"Maybe," said Shaun quickly. He called up the solar system on the big
plotting table and put the current course in. "Earth, Mars and Jupiter are
out," he said at once. But Saturn, Uranus and either Neptune or Pluto are
well within our parameters. Nice thinking Joe!"
The course correction took nearly no time at all and Michaela was
soon on her way back to Charlie's cabin, leaving the two men to plan alone
on the bridge. Unfortunately there was no information on the magnetic
fields of any of the planets in the limited memory of the ship's comp. At
last though,they had the course laid out and then went down to check on
Dr. Quade.
"Shh," said Michaela when they tried to push their way into his
cabin. He's sleeping now but he did wake up. He is complaining of chest
pains and his legs feel like they are asleep. I am afraid the strain put
too heavy a load on his heart. He will have to take it easy for a while. I
taped his ribs though, just in case."
Joe and Shaun traded knowing grins but neither man said anything. Joe
took Michaela by the arm and pulled her away from Dr. Quade. "Let us know
what is happening with him. We have a few more maneuvers to make in the
next few days and we don't want to injure him any more. But these
maneuvers must be done if we have any chance of getting home."
"I understand and I will do my best. She caught Joe by surprise by
giving him a quick kiss before sending him out the door with Shaun.
Joe spent the next week checking and repairing systems that were
damaged by the SC drive. Due to the earlier work they had done, few
systems needed very much work and soon he had all shipboard systems up to
one hundred percent capacity.
And over the next twelve days Dr Quade improved greatly. The chest
pains were gone after the second day and the circulation problems had
nearly cleared up.
Joe and Shaun had flipped the ship a few days earlier so that any
gees applied would be in the proper direction, along the axis of the ship.
Charlie had diverted as much power as possible to the accumulators.
Although they were not fully charged, they did carry enough power for the
coming operation.
Finally, all four were assembled on the bridge and were strapped into
their seats. As the gauss meter began to show a slight magnetic field, Joe
engaged the SC drive. At first the gee force was negligible but it slowly
built up until it stood at one and a half gees. In an hour it was all over
and the Giant Killer, pursuing it's long course outward, headed toward
it's next appointed rendezvous with Uranus.
Joe had connected the accumulator to the field coils as soon as the
SC drive had been cut off "Might as well take every advantage we have," he
said.
"How much did we lose?," asked Shaun once Joe had finished his
calculations.
"Not enough," Joe replied. "About one hundred thousand KPH. We are
still way up over three mil."
"Next stop, Uranus," announced Shaun. We will give it another try in
about ten days or so."
Joe noticed that Michaela seemed to seek out his company more and
more over the next few days and the time passed quickly for them until the
day came when they all found themselves back on the bridge with Uranus on
the screen.
"Field is stronger, Captain," reported Joe. Charlie quickly energized
the SC drive and again the gee's built up. This time, deceleration topped
two and a half gees and the deceleration period was much longer also.
"Dropped almost a mil," called Joe when the figures came in.
Nothing was said on the bridge as the ship bent it's course toward
the last meeting in the solar system.
"Which one?," asked Joe. The four had gathered in the galley over
coffee. "If we pick the wrong one, that's it. Last chance!"
"Does it really matter?," asked Charlie. "There is no way we can drop
two million kilometers per hour, no matter how strong the field is."
"So what the hell should we do?," asked Shaun. "Quit?"
"No, we have to keep trying," Charlie said. "At least it keeps us
busy."
"So what do we do next?"
"I don't know," admitted Shaun. "I'm all out of answers."
"We all are," agreed Michaela with a sad sigh.
Joe left the galley to escape the oppressive atmosphere and Michaela
hurried after him, catching up to him in the passage leading to his
stateroom.
"Are we going to die?," she blurted, before Joe knew she was there.
"Probably," admitted Joe. And as he turned to face her, she slipped
into his arms.
"Make love to me? Please?," and together they slipped silently into
his cabin.
The following day the four met back in the galley. "Which of the two
would take less fuel to reach?," asked Charlie.
"Neptune," said Shaun quickly.
"Then I think that is where we should go."
"Why?," asked Joe.
"We started this whole trip to deliver the synthesis chamber to the
belt. Our first priority is to the belt. The first thing we do is
decelerate as much as possible by passing Neptune. Then we unship one
engine and the fuel tank with all of our remaining reaction mass. Since
most of the mass will be gone, the engine will have enough power to
deliver the synthesis chamber to the belt."
"Then that's it?," asked Michaela.
"Yes, that's it," agreed Charlie. But there will be plenty to keep us
busy. Joe and I have to build a guidance module and then we have to bolt
the whole thing together. And nothing heavy can be done until after the
Neptune pass because we cannot afford to have loose equipment during the
gee maneuvers."
Joe and Michaela spent as much time together as possible. In the next
few weeks most of Joe's time was spent with Charlie on the guidance module
but he found time to be with Michaela. At last they were both relieved
when the module was completed and it had passed it's's final tests.
"Acceleration stations folks," announced Shaun "We have Magnetic
field indication." Two hours later it was all over. Less than three
hundred thousand KPH had been lost and they were still up over two mil. No
words were said among the four. No words were needed.
"I suggest a good long sleep," said Shaun. We will need all of our
energy for the next few months." The last thing Charlie did was switch on
the charging system before leaving the bridge.
There was a lot of preparation to be done before the heavy work could
be started. Detailed plans were made and parts were laboriously fabricated
to connect the engine to the synthesis module. During this time, Michaela
decided that Joe's arm had finally healed and removed his cast, finally
allowing Joe to do much more of the heavy work than before.
Once the connectors had been completed, the synthesis chamber was
unshipped and moved alongside the ship. The removal of the engine went
relatively quickly and was soon mated to the module.
"Michaela," called Joe. "We need the guidance package. It's on the
bridge, connected to the navigation computer. Will you get it for us?"
She had no trouble locating the module. The ship's comp had finished
the final programming run and it was ready to be installed. Her path
brought her near the SC drive console and her gaze came to rest on the
charging meter.
"Strange," she thought. "Why is the console showing we are charging
the accumulators?"
She keyed the intercom quickly. "Dr Quade, could you come to the
bridge please?," she asked.
"Is there something wrong with the module?," he asked, concerned.
"No, something else. But I'm not sure what it is."
Charlie wasted no time at all getting up to the bridge. He was
followed closely by Shaun and Joe, who had been delayed because of their
pressure suits.
"I'm not sure what it means," she said once he had arrived. "But we
seem to be charging the accumulators!"
A surprised look crossed the face of Charlie and he took a quick look
at the charging display. "She's right," he said. "We are in a magnetic
field, it seems."
"We must get the chamber back aboard now!," ordered Shaun.
"What about the engine?," asked Joe.
"Leave it on. The whole package should fit inside. Just get it
secured. Joe, you come with me. Michaela, you man the pilot's console.
Charlie, secure everything loose around the ship that you can find. And
Michaela?, please run a scan forward and try to find out what we are
running into, okay?"
The four split up. Shaun and Joe retrieving their pressure suits and
met at the main airlock. They each carried a portable thruster to help
move the chamber. It turned out to be a long and laborious job but at last
they got the chamber, engine and all back into the central cavity. The
module itself, being relatively small, fit with no problem. However the
engine, being quite a bit larger was much harder to fit. It took them much
longer than expected to finally get it secured for the high-gee maneuvers
to come.
At last they were finished and cycled back through the main lock.
Once out of their suits they joined Charlie and Michaela on the bridge.
"What have we got?," asked Shaun.
"Charon!," announced Michaela to a surprised Shaun. At least what
people would have called Charon until Pluto's moon was discovered. The
tenth planet at any rate!"
"The tenth planet?," asked Joe. "Are you sure? People have been
looking for it for a hundred years!"
"They weren't looking for it in the right place!," said Michaela
smugly.
"How so?," asked Shaun.
"It's simple, really," said Michaela. "The solar system follows
strict laws concerning the placement of the planets. Modern astronomers
were able to predict the orbits of the outer planets before they were
actually spotted. With the exception of Pluto, and now this new planet. We
are calling it Dys, another of the aspects of hell. All the others fall
within this rigid set of rules."
"So why are Pluto and Dys different?," asked Joe.
"Pluto's orbit is deformed. There are times when Pluto is not the
outermost planet. Neptune is. The standard explanation is that Pluto is a
captured planet. Also, due to the wobble of Pluto, a tenth planet has been
speculated for years but no one had been able to find it. The answer is
simple. It's not where it is supposed to be!"
Charlie sat in the Navigation console, letting Michaela talk. After
all, she had found it, let her have her fun.
"It's out of position by a few billion kilometers. And that's not
all. Pluto's orbital deformation is not due to the fact that it is a
captured planet at all. It was formed right here where all of the other
planets were.
"Then what is causing it's deformation?," asked Joe.
Michaela wore a smug smile, savoring the puzzled looks on Joe and
Shaun's faces. "Dys is. It's gravity is what is causing the deformation!,"
announced Michaela.
"It's gravity?," asked Shaun. "How big is Dys anyway?, it would have
to be huge," he said finally.
"Actually, it's tiny. The pictures we have received show that the
physical size of Dys Beta is smaller than our moon."
"Back up," said Joe. You said Dys Beta"
"Correct. We have pictures of Dys Beta. We haven't actually seen Dys
Alpha yet but it seems to be a small rotating black hole, with Dys Beta in
orbit around it."
"A black hole?," said Joe, finding it hard to believe. "Are you sure?"
"No, we aren't. Beta is orbiting what seems to be an empty point in
space. There is a tremendous magnetic field surrounding it and we can
measure it's gravitational field due to the effects it has on Beta and on
distant Pluto. Although we haven't seen it yet we do know it's there,"
said Charlie finally.
"How big is it?," asked Shaun.
"Small. Very small. About one one hundredth the size of our sun.
Probably the remnant of a long-dead supernova, said Charlie.
"Have you officially named it yet?," Shaun asked Michaela. "The
discoverer of a new planet is entitled to name it, you know."
"Yes, she did," said Charlie. The planetoid will retain the name Dys
but I have entered the name of the black hole as the Riecce Singularity!"
"You did what!," screeched Michaela. "You never told me that!, how
could you do that?"
"It was simple. A few buttons on the keyboard and it's done. Besides,
you did discover it."
"That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"Sure. But you would have never have agreed to it if I told you
before I did it!"
"Damn right I wouldn't have. What makes you think I wanted a planet
named after me?"
"Well do you?," Charlie asked bluntly.
She softened slightly. "Well, now that it's done, it is nice. And how
many people have a planet named after themselves?"
"A lot of Gods, that's who," said Shaun, enjoying her predicament.
"You are in good company. If I do say so. But anyway. We have a job to do.
Acceleration stations everyone.
"How strong is the field," Shaun asked Charlie, once everyone had
taken their seats.
"Strong, strong enough," said Charlie at last.
"Gauss reading?," asked Shaun.
"It will stop us," said Charlie
"But how fast?," asked Shaun. "Is it too strong?"
Charlie knew without checking that the field was stronger than the
solar field but also knew he couldn't tell Shaun. This was their last
chance and he wouldn't allow anyone to pass it by.
"Not bad, Shaun. We'll all make it," he lied. "Ready when you are."
"Joe," ordered Shaun. "Set the comp to cut off the SC drive when our
speed is low enough to put us in orbit around Dys."
"Done," said Joe, entering a sequence of commands on his comp
terminal.
"Then this is it, folks," said Shaun. "See you on the other side!"
The four of them braced for the shock. Charlie flipped the switch and
the big ship shook and bucked against the enormous acceleration forces.
A distinguished man stood facing a gleaming statue set in front of an
elegant building. The sparkle of the transparent dome could be seen
overhead, slightly dimming the brilliant stars. Beside him stood a boy,
just entering manhood. On the base of the statue was a brass plaque.
Dr. Charles Quade
Erected by the grateful people of the federation of
free asteroids as a memorial to his sacrifice.
Born: Chicago: 2021
Died: Dys B: 2079
"You knew him, didn't you, dad?"
"Yes son. I counted him as one of my best friends."
"Do you know how he died?"
"Yes."
"We studied the revolution in history but so much was left out. Like
how he died and who the crew was. It was glossed over in school and no one
seems to know any more that what is in the official texts."
"At first it was to protect the crew from the retaliation of the
Earth Government once they found out the truth. Later, when it was obvious
that Earth could not mount a retaliatory expedition, to protect the
privacy of the crew."
"Then you know who the crew members were?" The boy asked eagerly.
"Do you remember meeting Shaun O'Cassidy?"
"The old man in the Hospital? Sure I do."
"He was the Captain of the Giant Killer."
"Is that where he got his injuries?"
"Yes. It was a miracle that he survived." Joe turned to face his son.
"Tonight is our last night here and I believe you deserve the whole tale.
The truth." He led his son to a low bench beneath a tree, growing close to
the side of the magroad.
"You learned the important things in history. Why the Giant Killer
was sent, the solar flare that killed thirty-five men and three ships and
you learned of the discovery of Dys A and B.
"Yes, I know that all the history books say is that the crew brought
the ship back to the belt and that Dr. Quade was dead. It goes into great
detail about setting up the beanstalk and how it revitalized the belt
economy."
"And then there was the whole section on the Earth's belief that the
Synthesis chamber was stolen by an alien culture, the subsequent collapse
of Earth's economy and the break-up of the World Senate. And of how we
took over the Mercury outpost and are now engaged in the massive
rebuilding of Earth. It's ironic. The Earth Senate decided that the Belt
population was surplus and condemned them to die, and nearly killed
themselves in the process.
"I remember all of that dad," the boy interrupted.
"Well, when Charlie engaged the SC drive.."
"You mean the Quade drive, right?"
"Okay, the Quade drive. He knew that he could not take the high gees
to come. So he reported a much lower flux density. The deceleration was
immediate and crushing. Peak deceleration hit fifteen plus gees. By the
time we realized what was happening it was too late to stop. Charlie died
almost immediately."
"Michaela, your mother came through better than the rest of us. I
re-broke my arm, cracked three ribs, my lower leg was broken in three
places and my right ankle was also broken.
"Michaela cracked a couple of ribs, broke three fingers and two toes.
"Captain O'Cassidy's spine was broken, his pelvis and right leg
fractured and he suffered a serious concussion. If it hadn't been for
Michaela, none of us would have made it back. She nursed us back to health
and returned the ship to the belt. I'll never know how she managed it, but
she did. Considering the fact that we were missing a main engine, it's a
miracle that any of us are alive today."
"Both you AND mom?," the boy asked in awe.
"That's where we met. And we've been together ever since. Joe stood.
"It's time we got back. We'll be late if we don't hurry.
A shuttle was waiting for the two of them at the small port. Overhead
they could see the huge ship waiting for them. A very short flight put
them at the shuttle access lock, the large doors sliding open as they
approached, allowing the shuttle to slip into the big bay.
"Welcome aboard, sir," said a junior Officer, saluting smartly. "The
Captain is waiting for you on the bridge"
Joe returned the salute. "Thank you, ensign. Carry on." He turned to
his son. "Let's go see what he wants, okay?"
They took the tubelift up to the bridge level where they were met by
the Captain. "Admiral," said Abe Fortas, once Joe had stepped out of the
lift. We were waiting for your return before removing spin. All systems
are go and your wife left you a message. She said that she would see you
later after her duties in Navigation are over."
"Then let's take her out," said Joe to the waiting bridge crew.
"Aye aye, sir." Abe keyed a switch on his console. "May I have your
attention please," he announced through the big ship. "Free fall in five
minutes. Crew to acceleration stations please. Initial boost in ten
minutes and High-gee acceleration in one hour." Control jets fired on the
hull of the huge ship. Slowing it's rotation to a stop. Large engines
flamed into life, moving the huge ship slowly away from it's orbital
position, moving closer and closer to the invisible singularity. Finally,
in position, the engines were cut off and the Quade drive was engaged. At
six gees, the huge ship, unrecognizable as the once rebel Alpha base
headed outward into the interstellar void on a straight line course for
Alpha Centauri.
"Admiral," an ensign interrupted. "A message has been received from
President Efram Caine."
"Please read it," ordered Joe.
"To interstellar ship Explorer. Good luck. Our hearts and good wishes
go with all of you."