Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  Wendy nodded her agreement. "That's true. They're cheaper to operate and carry larger payloads to boot. The company still charges us an arm and a leg, though. But so what? How does that help us?

  Lando took a sip of coffee. "Answer the following question first. You indicated that your supplies arrive via Mega-Metals hulls. Does the company search your cargo prior to landing?"

  Wendy shook her head. "No, that's done at the other end. The company's security police search our supply modules before they're loaded aboard. The company claims that they're looking for contraband, but the truth is that they're checking to see what we're up to. By analyzing what we import, they can tell which crops are doing well, which aren't, and where to put more pressure on us."

  "So," Lando concluded, "it's fair to say that whatever cargo comes off the carrier is taken at face value?"

  Wendy's face lit up with sudden understanding. "I get it! Somewhere between Earth orbit and Angel we load the concentrate aboard their own ship! The vessel arrives, and they bring the fertilizer dirtside along with everything else. Not only that, they deliver it right to our front door! It's brilliant!"

  "Maybe," Lando said thoughtfully, "and maybe not. The timing would be absolutely critical. There's no way to locate, much less board, another ship in hyperspace. That means the cargo would have to be loaded just prior to, or just after the jump. Not only that, there's the matter of available space. Would there be enough room for the concentrate?"

  "Yes, sometimes," Wendy answered eagerly. "The company man, a rather unpleasant individual named Lorenzo Pal, gripes about partially loaded supply ships all the time. They lower his profit margin. But there's no way to be sure that we'd get one.

  "As for the other problem, well, that's a good deal more difficult. Tugs escort the carriers out from Terra and stand by until they enter hyperspace."

  Lando nodded. "So it would be impossible to load the concentrate prior to the hyperspace jump. What about afterwards? Are tugs waiting at the other end?"

  Wendy bit her lower lip. It was a nice lower lip, and something about the way it moved caused Lando to think about other activities. He forced himself back on track.

  "No, I don't think so. We don't get much pirate activity around Angel, and the tugs are kept pretty busy, so Pal allows the carriers to drift for a while."

  "How long would that be?"

  Wendy shrugged. "It's hard to say exactly. Hours at least, days at most."

  Lando gave it some thought. For the scam to work, they'd have to match speeds with the carrier, land on it, crack the company's security code, fine a place to stash the additional cargo module, shift the concentrate from The Tink's hold to the larger vessel, secure it, and escape. All without leaving any sign of their visit. Not an easy task. Still, it would be one helluva scam, and might even impress his father.

  Lando thought about the problem for a moment longer, and then raised his cup. "To a first-class scam. Let's hope it works."

  6

  Lando glanced at Wendy, saw that she was absorbed in a medical text, and slid out from behind the table. He walked the few short steps to the cockpit, dropped into the command chair, and checked the ship's sensors. Nothing. Not too surprising, since a buzzer would sound if a ship came near.

  Lando swore softly and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The main drives were shut down to avoid the possibility of detection. The result was an unusual amount of heat buildup, less than optimum air-recycling, and a shortage of water.

  Three standard days had passed with no results. How long would it take for a cargo carrier to appear? A day? A week? A month?

  Things had gone pretty well up till now. Sex is fun, and done properly, takes lots of time. But even that wears thin eventually. Both wanted to talk, to share more than their bodies, but were afraid to actually do so. They were very different people. What if they disagreed? Became angry? Had a fight? No, it seemed safer to stay with what they had. And what they had was a lot of time to kill.

  Lando decided to wait a bit longer. One more day. If the cargo carrier didn't show up within one standard day, they'd call the whole thing off and try something else.

  The smuggler got up, made his way back to his cabin, and stretched out on the bunk. Maybe some shut-eye would make the time pass more quickly.

  The harsh sound of a buzzer brought Lando up and out of a shallow sleep. He rolled off the bunk, pulled the curtains aside, and slipped into the cockpit.

  Wendy had heard the buzzer as well, and arrived a few seconds later. She wore short-shorts and a sweat-stained halter top. "Is that what we hope it is?"

  Lando activated the ship's tac tank. A star system appeared, complete with color-coded planets, a yellow-white sun, a green dot that represented The Tinker's Damn, and a red delta that symbolized the incoming vessel. The ship had dropped in-system about halfway between Angel and the sun.

  Words appeared beneath the red delta. SHIP. TYPE UNDETERMINED.

  "It's hard to tell," Lando replied. "It's too far away. We'll have to wait."

  Time passed slowly, but the incoming object was following the right track, and decelerating all the way.

  Then, when the object was only a few hundred thousand miles away, a radio beacon came on. It made an intermittent beeping sound, and according to The Tink's sensors, was easing into an orbit around Angel's sun. It had to be a cargo carrier. A crewed ship would keep on going.

  The tac tank confirmed Lando's theory with the words: SHIP. CARGO CARRIER. TYPE TM49021. REGISTRY: TERRA/MEGA-METALS HN30-78965.

  "That's our baby," Lando said happily. "Let's get to work."

  Lando fired the drives, felt the temperature begin to drop, and imagined that he could taste the additional oxygen in the air. Now came the challenge. To match speeds, transfer the concentrate, and escape without detection.

  Like most NAVCOMPs The Tink's would accept instructions via voice or keyboard. Lando preferred the keyboard except for rare emergencies. It gave him a feeling of direct control.

  He typed some instructions into the NAVCOMP and watched the distance between the green dot and the red delta start to shrink. He scanned the tac tank. No tugs or other vessels on their way to retrieve the carrier. Good.

  The next few hours passed with agonizing slowness. First came a long period of acceleration followed by an equally long period of deceleration. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the waiting was over and the cargo carrier appeared on Lando's viewscreens.

  The carrier was little more than a gleam of light at first, but it quickly took on shape and size, and became a long rectangular box. Each corner of the hull was marked by a flashing beacon.

  Knowing that the cargo carrier would never be called upon to negotiate a planetary atmosphere, the tech types had been free to ignore aerodynamic design. And, while the resulting shape brought joy to the hearts of Mega-Metal's accountants, it had none of the streamlined grace common to smaller vessels.

  No, the box-shaped hull reflected the cargoes it would carry, and nothing more. Standard-sized cargo modules on the journey out, and raw ore on the return. Both would fit into the cargo carrier's hull with a minimum of wasted space.

  The smuggler's fingers flew across the control panel, giving the NAVCOMP some necessary freedom, but reserving the right to override the computer's decisions.

  While nothing less than a computer could guide a ship from system to system, there were times when facts weren't enough and intuition came into play. Although most NAVCOMPs were self-programming, and could acquire experience, they did make mistakes about which experiences to retain.

  Most computers had a tendency to collect information around orthodox problems and accepted solutions. A tendency that made them somewhat less than useful when sentients decided to do something unusual, such as landing one ship on another.

  Unusual for The Tink that is, not for the company's supply shuttles, which landed on cargo carriers all the time. Their computers knew what The Tink's didn't.

  A double row o
f white landing lights came on and rippled the length of the ship. The letters M-E-G-A-M-E-T-A-L-S had been stenciled lengthwise along the hull, and a green X marked the landing zone.

  Lando's heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. Was someone aboard? It was possible. There were emergency crew quarters on some cargo carriers. Had a tech type come along for the ride? Had they mistaken The Tink for one of the company's tugs and activated the landing lights? Should Lando abort the landing and run like hell?

  No, wait a minute. They'd be on the comset by now. "Hi there, it's about time you showed up," or something like that.

  Lando scanned the most commonly used radio frequencies,

  just to make sure. Nothing. The most obvious explanation was best.

  The cargo carrier's NAVCOMP sensors had detected another ship's presence and assumed that it would land. After all, The Tink was the approximate size and shape of a medium-sized tug. Lando released a long slow breath.

  The Tink's NAVCOMP made its approach, disapproved of the landing zone, and started to abort. Lando switched the computer to standby and took control.

  The cargo carrier was closer now, and Lando could see that the landing path was more like a channel than a flat surface. It had thick raised sides with nothing at either end.

  The sides were far from empty, though. They contained cargo-handling equipment, a variety of ship's systems, and yes, the emergency crew quarters. An area that held increasing interest for him.

  The ship jerked slightly and the larger ship rose with alarming speed. Wendy closed her eyes.

  Lando cut power to the main drives, fired the ship's retros, and used steering jets to push The Tink towards the carrier.

  Wendy opened her eyes and saw lights flashing by. The freighter skimmed only feet above the carrier's durasteel skin. The raised sides were only feet away from The Tink's stubby wings.

  Then, just when it seemed certain that The Tink would zip through the landing zone and shoot off into space, the lights slowed to little more than a crawl. There was a gentle thump as Lando put the ship down at the very center of the green X and activated the electromagnets built into the ship's landing jacks.

  Wendy let out a sigh of relief. "That was something to see… and I never want to see it again!"

  Lando released his harness and laughed nervously. "Thanks. I think. So much for problem Number One. Now for problem Number Two."

  "Which is?"

  "Which is breaking and entering," Lando replied, getting up from his seat. "With the emphasis on 'entering.' Breakage could cause problems. We don't want the company to know that we've been here."

  Wendy released her harness and also stood up. "Won't the carrier's NAVCOMP tell them that we landed?"

  "It would if they asked," Lando replied. "But I'm banking on the fact that the company has no reason to ask. Not until they hear about what happened on Weller's World, anyway."

  Wendy nodded. What Lando said made sense. But how would they get inside? Surely there was an access code or something.

  Lando pulled a keyboard out of a wall recess and tapped on the keys. "How about it, Wendy? Have you ever gone for a walk outside?"

  "As in outside the ship? In space armor?"

  The words PROGRAM CHECK COMPLETE rolled up on a small screen. Lando eyed them and tapped a key. The words disappeared. "Yeah, as in 'outside the ship in space armor.'"

  "Never."

  Lando nodded and straightened up. "That's what I thought. But that's okay 'cause there's plenty for you to do right here. See this keyboard?"

  "Yes?"

  "Well, when I get outside I'll ask you to operate it. If the keyboard's a problem, use voice. Keep an eye peeled for visitors too. The sensors are set for max. If one goes off, then let me know right away. Got it?"

  Wendy nodded. "Operate the keyboard and monitor the sensors. Got it."

  Lando grinned. "Good. Then how about a kiss?"

  Wendy slid into his arms and met his lips with hers. The kiss lasted a long time.

  When it ended, Lando cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "You're a very distracting lady. Too distracting. Remind me to continue this conversation a little bit later."

  Wendy smiled. "It's a deal."

  It took Lando half an hour to gather what he needed, to don his space armor, and exit through the ship's tiny lock.

  The white landing lights still rippled the length of the ship and the nav beacons still flashed. The endless void stretched off in every direction. It would be easy to unclip the safety line, push hard, and drift away.

  Lando shook the idea off and moved away from The Tink's hull. Within a matter of three or four steps he left argrav behind and entered zero-G. He checked the safety line to make sure that it was secured. It was.

  Two squirts from Lando's built-in jet pak carried him over to the cargo carrier's raised side. A series of yellow arrows interspersed with the words "Emergency Quarters-Oxygen Breathers Only" led him to the personnel lock.

  The outer hatch was made of durasteel. Right next to it was a pressure plate and an internally lit numeric keypad. Lando palmed the pressure plate. Nothing. Surprise, surprise. The hatch was locked.

  He anchored his self-closing supply sack to the cargo carrier's hull and fumbled through his gear.

  "Hey, Wendy… you read me?"

  "Loud and clear. I can see you, too. The port vid cam has a nice clean shot."

  "Good. I'll need your help on the keyboard. Enter 'Test Sequence,' but don't execute."

  "Roger."

  Lando found the small self-powered transceiver, checked the setting, and turned it on. A magnet held it to the deck. Assuming that everything worked correctly, the transceiver would provide linkage with a small, highly specialized computer aboard The Tink. A computer equipped with some useful but rather illegal programs.

  "Okay… execute."

  "Executing."

  Seconds passed, and Wendy returned. "I have 'Test Sequence complete.'"

  "Good. Set up 'Run Program,' and wait to execute."

  "Roger."

  Lando attached two leads to the numeric keypad and connected the other ends to the transceiver. An indicator light glowed red. The smuggler checked to make sure the leads were properly seated. The red light disappeared.

  "Okay," Lando said, "here goes nothing. Execute."

  "Executing."

  Time passed. Lando used it to sip water from his suit. Wendy's voice boomed inside his helmet.

  "A series of numbers appeared on the screen."

  "Excellent! What are they?"

  "Ten… seventeen… twenty-three… and twelve."

  Lando punched the numbers into the keypad and watched the indicator light flash green.

  "Very tricky," Wendy said approvingly. "You used the computer to run all the possible combinations until it hit the right one. That's illegal, isn't it?"

  "Is it?" Lando asked innocently. "I'll check the next time I visit a law library."

  The hatch cycled open. Lando unclipped his safety line and attached it to one of the many tie-downs located just outside the lock.

  He stepped inside. Lights came on and threw his shadow against the bulkhead. He waited while the outer door irised closed and the ship's computer pumped an atmosphere into the lock.

  A "Pressurized" sign came on. Lando checked the heads-up display inside his helmet to make sure. It agreed.

  Lando opened his visor and found that the cargo carrier's air tasted musty and stale.

  "Pik?" Wendy sounded nervous.

  "Yeah?"

  "Is everything okay?"

  Lando stepped out of the lock and into the ship's emergency quarters. There were some tidy bunk beds, a serviceable galley, and a wall full of electronics. Lando headed in that direction.

  "Sure… everything's fine. I'm inside now. Any sign of company?"

  "No, not so far."

  "Good. Keep your eyes peeled."

  There was a chair located in front of the electronics. Lando sat down. It made a
whirring noise and adjusted to his frame.

  The ship's central computer sensed his presence and activated the control panel. A screen came on, and rows of indicator lights glowed red, yellow, and green.

  Lando grinned. It was just as he'd hoped. Since there was no way to anticipate who might use the emergency quarters, the company had dispensed with the usual security codes.

  He spoke. "Show me how much of the cargo capacity has been utilized."

  Silence. It seemed that Mega-Metals didn't waste money on voice-actuated computers for the emergency quarters on its cargo carriers. The keyboard would have to do.

  Although his gloved fingers made it difficult to type, Lando entered: "Cargo… Percentage of capacity utilized this voyage."

  Words flashed on the screen: CAPACITY UTILIZED 98.7%.

  Lando swore under his breath. "Damn!" So much for slipping the concentrate into an empty slot. Every freighter lost some of its hold space to odd nooks and crannies, the gaps between cargo modules, and sloppy stowage. The 1.3 percent of supposedly available space wasn't really there.

  "Did you say something?"

  "Yeah," Lando replied. "I did. This baby's fully loaded."

  "Oh," Wendy said, obviously disappointed. "Well, that's that, I guess."

  Lando tapped his fingers on the console. His gloves made a clicking sound against the plastic. "Maybe, and maybe not. We could dump some of the company's cargo and replace it with the concentrate, or locate some of your supplies and do the same thing."

  Wendy thought out loud. "If you dump the company's supplies, they're almost sure to notice the discrepancy and investigate. And if you dump our supplies, then we lose something we need."

  "That's about the size of it," Lando agreed. "It's a tough decision."

  A buzzer sounded in The Tink's cockpit and made itself heard over the radio.

  "We've got company, Pik! It looks like there's a tug headed our way!"

  Lando felt his pulse pound in his head. He knew he should pull out, run like hell, but they were so damned close. "So what's your decision?"