“Just what the heck does that mean?”
“We’re going to have to jettison some excess weight! Standby! This is going to be rough!”
Abruptly the shuttle lurched as a small explosion came from the rear of the craft. McNally strained at the controls, swinging the ship to port. To their rear, the pursuing craft was closing fast. It suddenly banked momentarily before a titanic detonation surrounded the craft.
“Got ‘em,” sighed McNally.
“What do you mean, ‘got ‘em?’”
McNally did not answer. Their craft sped on as he adjusted their course into the blackness that stretched before them. Louiston gave one look back to see what lay behind. There was no further pursuit.
“I don’t see them.”
There was a long pause before McNally replied. “That’s because they’re gone.”
“They’re gone? Gone as in ‘back to the asteroid’?”
“I mean gone as in forever and ever, amen…”
“I don’t believe this,” gasped Louiston. “You’ve been busting my buns this whole time about the importance of innocent lives…and now you tell me they’re atomized?”
“I jettisoned the shuttle’s auxiliary power-core in their path. With the damage to our ship, it was the only way to assure our escape.”
“But…”
“But nothing! I said you were the most important person in my universe…and if you hadn’t noticed, my universe was about to end!”
“Nice to see your priorities change when you own skin is on the line.”
McNally remained silent as the shuttle continued into the darkness of deep space.
***
Nursing the damaged engines, they traveled in silence for more than two hours. Occasionally, McNally would run a check through the navigation system. In his headset, he could hear Louiston snoring softly behind him. Earlier, Louiston had tried to engage McNally in conversation several times, but when no reply came, he had eventually drifted into sleep.
Smiling, McNally adjusted the volume on the craft’s interior radio. “Louiston!”
The sleeping man jerked upright and looked about him. “Wha—what now?” he stammered.
Chuckling, McNally turned in his seat. “Wake up call! My ship’s just ahead.”
“Oh yeah? I hope it’s in better condition than this shuttlecraft. Let’s take a look at it.”
McNally flicked several switches and the cockpit’s windows brightened as they shifted to radar-receptive telescopic mode. Before them, Louiston now saw a large space-tractor. Even though it was still several thousand meters distant, Louiston guessed it was the largest rig he had ever seen. But it was dwarfed by the monstrous, irregularly shaped mountain of rock that lay behind it. The radar imagery did not show the tractor beam that connected the ship and load; for all Louiston could tell, the beam might not even be activated.
“Nice rig,” commented Louiston. “Interstar dynamic-class, I’ll bet.”
“Close! D-class 1800-plus. She’s one of a kind! I.S. 4200-series fusion engines with a dynamic-class inertial system, boosted with a secondary fusion converter. I could pull a small moon out of orbit with that sucker…and not even experience stage two secondary vibrations!”
Louiston whistled softly. “What are you hauling?”
“The load grosses a little over two-hundred billion tons. Lots of frozen hydrogen and nitrogen. But she’s rich with a streak of gold and other heavier elements. My last load.”
“So? You retiring?”
“Hardly! My contract was cancelled! That’s my tenth load.”
“Cranston open contract?”
“That’s right…want to tell me about your last partner? Gibson wasn’t it? Whatever happened to him?”
There was a long pause before Louiston replied. “Yeah, his name was Gibson. We were pulling in our tenth load when those Cranston blackhearts cancelled our contract!”
“And Gibson?”
“I guess he ran his mouth to the wrong people…about the wrong things. He disappeared two weeks ago. I’ve been running ever since!”
“Know of anyone else this has happened to?”
“I’ve heard rumors. This sector of the Oort is a big place…lots of haulers, lots of mining stations. I’ve been out here five years and rarely met the same hauler more than five or six times. But I’ve still heard stories.”
McNally was now busy guiding the craft towards the rig’s underbelly docking bay. He paused and turned once more to face Louiston. “According to records supplied to me by The Company and ISDOT, Cranston Incorporated has cancelled almost three hundred contracts in the past two years! Over ninety-percent of those haulers have disappeared. I think I got to you just in time to keep you from becoming one of those statistics! What do you think?”
“So that’s it, you’re an agent for the Interstellar Department of Transportation!”
“Not really…The Company is tired of hearing about disappearing men and rigs. They sent me out here to put an end to this nonsense…and to make sure that Edward Cranston and all the scum-eating vermin that work for him are put out of business!”
Louiston said nothing as he tried analyzing the events of the last few hours. Finally he had to ask. “So just where the blazes do I fit into this?”
McNally’s reply was immediate: “Like I said…you’re evidence!”
CHAPTER THREE: MCNALLY ALMOST HONKS IT
Edward Cranston slowly pushed his chair away from his desk, stood and walked over to the large window dominating an entire wall of this office. He took a deep breath and looked out at the rolling expanse covering the interior cylinder of the Madeira Colony. Looking upward, he shielded his eyes with one hand; the glare from the neon florescent lighting tubes could be fierce. Glancing around his hand, he saw the other side of the cylinder seven miles overhead. Looking to his left, he almost believed he could see the end wall of the colony some eleven miles distant. A light haze hung over the parks, gardens and buildings stretching out towards that end of the colony—a truly inspiring and beautiful view.
The area occupied by the colony and its seven hundred thousand inhabitants had been carved from an asteroid’s interior a little more than a four-centuries before. The project had taken a dozen decades to complete and was hailed as one of mankind’s greatest achievement. Back then gravity had been maintained by placing the asteroid in a slow spin. Now, artificially generated gravity fields did the same thing.
Cranston smiled. The project that most occupied his corporation had begun more than ten years past. Soon it would be time for scholars to update the list of the solar system’s seven wonders.
The intercom on his desk chimed. “Mr. Burroughs is here sir,” said his secretary. Cranston spent a moment more absorbing a partial view of the more than five hundred-fifty square miles making up the Madeira Colony, then returned to his desk.
“Send him in, Margaret,” said Cranston, keying the intercom.
Almost immediately, the double doors to his office slid open and Burroughs, dressed immaculately as always, walked briskly into the room.
“Good day, Mr. Burroughs,” said Cranston, as he sat behind his desk. “I trust your flight back was enjoyable.”
“It was uneventful, as usual sir,” the somber man replied.
Again the intercom chimed. “Mr. Johnson, sir.”
“Send him in,” said Cranston casting a dark glance at Burroughs.
The doors again slid open as Johnson entered. “Please, take a seat,” said Cranston, gesturing towards the chair that was directly before his desk.
“Mr. Johnson, you were to secure one Samuel Louiston, commonly referred to as Doctor Louiston. Not only did Louiston elude your men, but now two of our most valuable employees lie cooling on a morgue slab on some distant outpost.”
Cranston turned his chair to face Burroughs. “I am confident you have an explanation for this somewhat disastrous turn in events.”
Johnson squirmed in his chair. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead an
d upper lip. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Cranston. But an unknown individual intervened—“
“Intervened and complicated my otherwise simple instructions?” Cranston swung his chair around to face Johnson. “Mr. Burroughs, you were to choose someone to supervise this mundane chore. It is apparent that your choice of Mr. Johnson was an error. You have failed! Please explain to me how you intend to rectify this blunder!”
For a moment Burroughs gazed intently at Cranston. Then with almost laconic slowness, he reached into his jacket, withdrew his pistol and fired at Johnson. The man lurched backwards in his chair as the soft-nosed titanium slug ripped through his skull. The body hit the floor and jerked once.
Cranston again stood and faced the window. “I don’t need to tell you what’s at risk here. I want to know what happened to Louiston and I want to know who this mystery man is! We may be a quarter of a light year from Earth, but sometimes even small indiscretions have a way of making themselves known to the home office and ISDOT. Now you find these men and eliminate them! No further instructions and no further questions! I want them dead, is that clear? And call cleanup on your way out and have this mess removed.”
Burroughs nodded and left the office.
Cranston walked to the window and again surveyed the magnificence of Madeira Colony. It was indeed a beautiful view.
***
“So what the heck do we do now?” asked Louiston as he walked into the main control room. “By the way, what’s the name of this royal liner of a space-tractor?”
“I call her the Duster,” said McNally, swinging his chair away from the control panel. “Stands for Starduster. I like to keep everything short and sweet. As to your question…we need to continue building evidence against Cranston and his organization. We know he’s been suckering tractor teams with his open contracts. We know that a good percentage of those pilots have disappeared, and we can speculate that he must have help from the Sector authorities. We need to prove that help! Ever heard of Claire Cranston?”
Louiston paused in thought. “I know of a Thornby Cranston…mines the outer boundaries of this sector, but I don’t know any Claire.”
“You’re not much help,” sneered McNally, engaging the main engines. “Claire’s been working for about four months at a club over on the Donadio asteroid, about twenty-seven hours from here. She’s Cranston’s stepdaughter.”
“You don’t say. What good is she going to be to your little plot that, if I may point out, seems to involve the investigation of someone who eats little people like us for breakfast?”
McNally continued working the controls as the ship crept into motion. “I’m going to ignore your obvious attempts to insult me. Ms. Cranston is the dispossessed heir to the fortune that big daddy has been using to eliminate haulers and generally rule the commerce in this portion of the cloud. Her testimony is part of the information I need to transmit back to The Company. With that done, I’ll have a license to remove however many individuals I deem necessary to eradicate the cancer that has festered in this sector!”
“Well excuse me! I don’t want to stand between you and your delusions of grandeur.”
“Look Doc, I’m telling your straight…I came all the way out here to fix this mess. If you don’t want to be in on the downfall of the Cranston Empire, just let me know! I can drop you off in space anywhere along the way, but our next stop is the Donadio outpost, and if you don’t like it, say so now.”
“Hey, Donadio sounds fine to me!”
***
Claire closed the door to her office, stepping outside and looking about the club. The crowd was still thin, but with the second shift ending soon, the lounge was sure to fill with the usual miners and technicians. Unfortunately, the evening crowd proved the most difficult to deal with. She was tired and hoped she would not have to tolerate the advances of more than a dozen or so customers. Claire always hated being mistaken for one of the club’s working girls. As assistant manager, she liked to stay in the background and remain as low-key as possible. The last thing she wanted was to attract the wrong kind of attention—from the wrong kind of people.
The early regulars had already taken up their favorite tables and stools. One group of men she didn’t recognize sat around a table to one side of the dark stage. She thought this unusual, as it was still at least an hour before the first dancers would make their appearance, and the first girls to go on were not their best draw. Those dancers would go on later, after the evening crowd had a few drinks and were more likely to tip better. Claire uneasily looked about for others she did not recognize—years of hiding from her stepfather had made her very cautious.
That’s when she spotted the two strangers coming through the entrance and making their way towards the bar. One moved…well…different, his dark eyes swept the room obviously intent on a purpose other than a night of alcohol, relaxation and companionship. He was tall, muscular and gave the impression of someone used to moving fast. As he looked about, Claire was uncertain why, but he reminded her of nothing less than a deadly predator seeking his next kill.
The other man appeared no different than any other customer, just another hauler in search of drink and company between loads…or was he? Studying him more closely, she noticed his gaze was accentuated with nervous glances about the room. Watching these two, Claire was getting nervous herself.
The taller man leaned across the bar and spoke to the keep in low tones, gesturing in her direction. When the bartender nodded and also looked her way, the dark eyed individual fixed her with his intense stare. Claire felt a chill climb her spine and she immediately grew alarmed. Had her stepfather finally found her?
The two left the bar and walked across the club. When they drew near, Claire stood straight, inhaled deeply and readied herself should events dictate a hurried exit.
McNally stopped close to what Louiston considered the most striking woman he had seen in a very long time. Her dark, silken gown flowed almost to the floor, a provocative slit almost reaching her hip. The dress hugged her curves in all the best places. She stood confident and sure of herself, but Louiston thought he could see a touch of nervousness play about her eyes as she looked McNally over. He smiled despite his anxiety, he understood how she felt—McNally had that effect on people.
“Ms. Cranston,” said McNally. “We are not your father’s employees. I need your help, and if you could give us a few minutes, I promise you will find our conversation most interesting.”
Claire’s breath caught in her throat when the stranger mentioned her stepfather. She had used her real name for so long, she had forgotten just how much she hated her adopted one.
“Look mister, if half the people in this room knew my name was Cranston, they’d probably pay good money to tear my heart out.” She looked about, trying to act casually. She noticed the men who had first caught her attention rise in unison from their table and start in her direction. “You just gave me the scare of my life.”
“I bear you no ill will,” continued McNally, “but it is imperative we talk.”
“Look fellah, I’m sure you have some interesting business to discuss. Don’t turn around…but there are some serious looking men heading this way! If nothing else, around here you become a good judge of looks…and these guys look like really bad news for someone!”
Louiston glanced rapidly over his shoulder. “Blast it,” McNally! If those aren’t Cranston’s men, I’ll kiss your butt! They must have figured out we’d come here looking for his daughter! Let’s get out of here!”
McNally turned slightly and fixed Louiston with a relaxed, but cold smile. “You have my permission to use your weapon…when the action starts, take out as many as you can. Try not to hit any of the other people unless they make a move towards us! If my guess is correct, they’ll be more than just these five that are heading this way!”
Claire looked surprised. “You didn’t even look. How did you know?”
One of the men in the gang mumbled something to the othe
rs as he reached inside his jacket. The men suddenly surged forward as a group, spreading outward to surround Claire and the two strangers. Louiston whirled and dodged to one side, crouching as he fluidly drew the cumbersome TS-11, firing several rounds at the nearest men.
As the deafening reports rang out, the club exploded into motion. The working girls screamed while moving away from the trouble as men around the room jumped up in confusion. McNally grabbed Claire, lunging smoothly to one side as several attackers crashed past them, tripping over McNally’s outstretched foot, clumsily knocking chairs and tables about in their haste. Claire tried to say something as McNally shoved her out of harm’s way and jerked back to elbow a huge brute across the throat.
McNally spared a moment to look about as the man hit the floor. He ducked low and charged. Louiston fired again and scored—that was two down. McNally extended his arms, catching two men across their midsection, his legs pumping powerfully as momentum carried them towards the bar, crashing against its unyielding surface. The men fell stunned and McNally finished the job with two well-aimed kicks.
The fifth man paused in confusion, looking for some place to run as McNally turned towards him. Louiston used that moment to his advantage and disabled the man with a roundhouse swing of the TS-11 to his temple.
Two others sitting near the bar jumped up, reaching for their weapons. Bellowing, McNally dove, knocking them across the floor, where they briefly struggle furiously. Seconds later, he stood and shouted to Louiston. “Grab the girl! Head for the loading bays! Let’s move!”
Louiston ran to Claire as McNally sprinted for the entrance. “Come on Miss,” said Louiston. “If you stick around here I’m sure you’ll be very sorry!” He grabbed her arm, pulling her along, following after McNally. For an uncertain moment, Claire resisted, then ran with Louiston after the initial shock wore off. These two men knew who she was and were apparently trying to help her…that’s all that mattered for the moment.
At the doorway, Louiston and Claire caught up with McNally. Already, klaxons hammered the air with their relentless sounding.
“We’ve walked into a trap,” cried McNally. “Ms. Cranston, I’m sorry about all of this, but you are in grave danger! Those most certainly were your father’s men. I can’t be sure, but right now he may want you as dead as he does Doctor Louiston and me.”
The Last Load Page 2
