Drifter

by William C. Dietz

  A stocky woman stepped out of the double doors, pulled a hood up around her face, and walked towards an all-terrain vehicle. She didn't look at them or acknowledge their existence.

  Lando watched Wendy pause in front of the doors, draw herself up straight, and march forward. On the surface she looked strong, purposeful, and in control.

  But Lando saw the fear in her eyes, the slight trembling of her lower lip, and knew something was terribly wrong. But what? The smuggler frowned and followed her inside.

  The reception area looked as if it hadn't been cleaned or painted in years. Green paint had peeled away to reveal more green paint. There was a large, rather modern-looking reception console, but the rest of the room was a total disaster.

  The floor was covered with a thick layer of semiliquid mud, the modular furniture was filthy, and a dead plant stood in one corner.

  It bore a hand-lettered sign which said "To Diane, Best Wishes, The Crew."

  Two doors opened into the reception area and each had a faded sign. One said OFFICE, and the other said RESTRICTED.

  As Lando and Wendy came to a stop in front of the console, the "Restricted" door swung open and a middle-aged man entered the room.

  The man was almost entirely bald. What little hair he had hung like a greasy curtain around the sides of his head and brushed the top of his shoulders as he moved.

  The man wore a dirty orange jumpsuit with "Pops" embroidered over the left breast pocket. Having just come from the toilet, he was still in the process of zipping the suit over a hairy pot belly.

  Pops stopped, looked at Wendy, and smiled. "Well, hi there, sweet lips. Nice of you to drop in. Mr. Pal is waiting. You know the way." He jerked a thumb towards the door marked "Office."

  Wendy gave a short jerky nod and walked towards the door. It opened inward to let her pass.

  Lando started to follow, but the big man blocked the way. He held up a huge paw.

  "As you were, son. This may take a while… so take a load off."

  The look in the man's piggy little eyes, the set of his body, signaled his readiness to fight if that's what Lando wanted to do.

  Lando met the man's challenge with a smile and a nonchalant shrug. Pops outweighed him by a good sixty pounds. That, plus the possibility that there might be some muscle under all that blubber, suggested a less direct approach.

  "Sounds good, Pops. The truth is that I can't wait to get rid of her. There's nothing worse than a spending a week aboard ship with a religious nut."

  Pops chuckled understandingly and moved around behind the console. "She wouldn't put out, huh? Well, it's all in knowing how. You take Mr. Pal, for example. Now there's a man who knows how to get what he wants. Wish I was boss. Some people have all the luck."

  Lando felt his belly tighten up, and fought to control his voice. He moved forward to lean on the console. "It sounds like Mr. Pal has a good thing going."

  Pops nodded as he dropped into an oversized chair. It creaked under his considerable weight. "Yup, that's for sure."

  The older man took a quick look around as if checking for witnesses, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You wanta see what you were missing?"

  Lando nodded eagerly and resisted the temptation to shoot Pops right between the eyes. "I sure would."

  "Come around here," Pops said, motioning Lando behind the console.

  The smuggler obeyed, coming around the far end of the counter, to stand by the other man's left shoulder. Now Lando understood why the security console looked better than everything else in the room. It was packed with com gear, sensor readouts, and vid screens. Some showed huge robo-scrapers moving through the murk, others showed Mega-Metals personnel going about their various jobs, and still others were blank.

  "Watch this," Pops whispered, and flipped a series of switches. Suddenly Lando found himself looking at three different angles of the same room. In comparison to the reception area it was nicely furnished and spotlessly clean. But Lando had no interest in the room or its furnishings. His eyes were on Wendy and a man standing directly in front of her.

  Pal was a small man, an inch or two shorter than Wendy, and rail-thin. He had dark, almost black hair, which he wore combed straight back, and even, almost handsome features. He wore the same sort of jumpsuit that Pops did, except that his was clean and pressed. In spite of his size, the company man's voice was deep and commanding.

  "Look at me!"

  Wendy stood completely still, her eyes focused on some point over Pal's head. The scene reminded Lando of a recruit standing in front of her drill instructor.

  Pal slapped her across the face. "I said, look at me!"

  Wendy's head tilted so that her eyes were in line with Pal's, but they were out of focus, as if her mind were somewhere else.

  The company man nodded approvingly. "That's better. Now, given the fact that you are a member of a known subversive group, it will be necessary to search your body for illegal substances. Take off your clothes."

  Wendy's face was completely expressionless as her hands came up and her fingers started to unsnap her blouse.

  Pops never knew what hit him. Lando's handgun made a solid thunk where it hit the back of the older man's head. The smuggler felt reasonably sure that Pops would live, but really didn't care.

  A quick check showed a selection of handguns and stunners neatly racked to one side of the console. Lando selected a stunner, aimed it at Pop's head, and pressed the firing stud.

  The security man gave an involuntary jerk as his entire nervous system went into temporary spasm. The effect would last a good thirty minutes.

  Lando glanced at the monitors. Pal was watching with obvious enjoyment as Wendy removed her blouse. A comset started to buzz, and Lando ignored it.

  The smuggler stepped over to the entryway marked "Office," touched the plastic access panel, and waited for the door to open. Nothing. Locked from the inside.

  Lando took a step backwards, kicked the door open, and walked through. Pal took his hands off Wendy's breasts, spun towards his desk, and dived for the gun belt hung on the back of his chair.

  Lando yelled something incoherent as he squeezed the trigger. The slug gun made a loud booming sound as the bullet creased the corpo's side and spun him around. Blood sprayed across the beige carpet as Pal went down. He swore and went for his blaster.

  The slug gun boomed again. A large hole appeared in the center of Pal's hand. He screamed and held it to his chest.

  "Lando! No!"

  The smuggler heard Wendy's voice but paid no attention. All the blood drained from Pal's face as he looked up into the bore of Lando's slug gun and waited to die.

  Wendy hit Lando's arm just as the gun went off, causing the bullet to slide along the side of Pal's head instead of passing through his brain. The security man slumped backwards.

  Lando tried to bring the gun back up, but Wendy was holding his arm. "No! Not for me! You've done enough harm already!"

  Lando let the gun fall. "Harm? Done enough harm? What the hell are you talking about? That man was going to rape you!"

  Wendy's eyes blazed with open fury. "That man has already raped me! He rapes me every time I come back! It's the price I pay for going off-planet."

  Lando looked at her incredulously. "Are you crazy? Is that the problem? Or do you like being raped?"

  Wendy slapped him across the face. "Damn you! And damn your mindless violence!

  "Killing Pal would accomplish nothing. There are millions more just like him. That's why we must have the entire planet, that's why I allowed him to abuse me, and that's why you are an idiot! Thanks to you, the company has an excuse to search our settlements, and depending on what they find, people may die."

  Wendy ignored Lando's astonished expression, and felt for Pal's pulse. "He'll live. Come. We must warn the elders."

  Wendy picked up her clothes, turned on her heel, and headed for the door. She dressed as she went.

  Lando took one last look around, and followed. B
y the time he reached the reception console, Wendy was already outside and headed for the ship.

  Lando ignored the cacophony of buzzers, chimes, and bells, and pulled Pops away from the counter. The man slumped back in his chair.

  Lando frowned as he scanned the electronics for the inevitable recorders, found the appropriate data cube, and pulled it out. A tidy little record of everything that had happened. Not much, but better than nothing. Lando slipped the cube into his pocket.

  He stepped out through the front doors, took a quick look around, and jogged towards the ship. Wendy stood in the lock and waved him on. Was she crazy or was it him? Either way they were in a heap of trouble. Lando swore and ran a little faster.

  8

  "This is Mega-Metals orbital control. Return to PROS-PLANT 2 at once. Failure to comply with this order will result in serious consequences."

  Lando keyed his mike. "And what 'serious consequences' might those be? What will you do? Nudge me to death with a tug? Give it a rest, Orbital Control. I'll get back to you in ten or fifteen minutes."

  There was a squawk of outrage, but Lando keyed the comset off. Angel loomed large below. A luminous ball surrounded by a skirt of silver. The view was spectacular, but Lando had little time to enjoy it.

  The smuggler's fingers fairly flew over the keyboard as he gave the NAVCOMP control of the ship, pulled the data cube out of his pocket, and dropped it into a player.

  "What are you doing?" Wendy demanded angrily. "Land this ship immediately!"

  "In a few minutes," Lando answered grimly. "After we buy ourselves some insurance."

  A green COPY COMPLETE light came on. Lando pushed a button and caught the new cube as it popped out. He slipped it into a pocket. Now for the next step.

  "Does the Church have an attorney or business agent on Terra?"

  Wendy frowned. "Yes, but I don't see what…"

  "I need his or her name and some sort of address," Lando interrupted. "We don't have a lot of time."

  "Alexis Strasser, the Imperial Tower, in Main Port."

  Lando nodded and his fingers danced across the keyboard. A RECORDING light came on.

  "Now will you tell me what you're doing?" Wendy asked.

  "Sure. Did you see the data cube I put in the player? Well, I took it from the company's security console. It shows Pal trying to rape you."

  Blood surged into Wendy's face. "It what?"

  "It shows Pal attempting to rape you," Lando repeated patiently. "And your lawyer can use it to light a fire under the company. The Imperial Court may be jaded… but I think this will get their attention."

  Wendy looked both shocked and confused. "You mean he taped what he did to me?"

  "Yes," Lando replied gently. "That's exactly what I mean. I'm sorry."

  Wendy remembered the two previous occasions when Pal had abused her. How many of the company's employees had watched and vicariously enjoyed it?

  Hatred boiled up from deep inside, overflowed her self-control, and filled her with rage. Every atom of her being wanted Pal dead. She knew it was wrong, knew she should feel otherwise, but couldn't help it.

  The COPY COMPLETE light came on.

  Wendy's voice shook with emotion. She used the back of her hand to wipe a tear away. "So, how will you get the information to Terra?"

  "The Tink carries two message torps," Lando replied. "One should be enough, but I'll use both just to make sure."

  Wendy nodded her understanding. Due to the fact that no one had figured out how to ram a radio signal through hyper-space, ships were still the fastest way to move information from one system to another.

  So, in order to meet the need for a less expensive way to move information from one place to another, the tech types invented message torpedos. The torps had hyperspace drives, a tremendous amount of memory, and could move faster than all but the most advanced speedsters.

  "I'm sorry," Wendy said. "Message torps are very expensive."

  Lando tapped some keys. The words "Torpedo Armed" appeared. The smuggler pushed another button and The Tink jerked slightly as both message torps surged away, fired their main drives, and headed out towards the nearest nav beacon.

  In a week or so the torps would emerge from hyperspace near Jupiter, head in towards Earth, and announce their presence. One of the many recovery firms would pick them up and charge Alexis Strasser a stiff fee for delivery. The NAVCOMP indicated that both missiles were running straight and true.

  Lando said, "Forget it," but his emotions belied the words. The message torps had been modified to carry small and somewhat illegal cargos. Each torp was worth twenty thousand Imperials. Counting the cost of the hotel on Weller's World, and Wendy's medical expenses, Lando's profit margin had fallen from a tidy half million to around four hundred and fifty thousand.

  The time had come to quit goofing around and pick up his pay. All sixty-nine pounds of it.

  A sensor beeped. The tac tank came to life. Lando saw that a small ship was closing in on his position. A Mega-Metals tug or shuttle. Easy fodder for The Tink's energy cannon and missiles. But Lando wanted to avoid conflict if at all possible.

  It was like his father always said. "I've been in a lot of fights, son, and never made money off one of them yet."

  Lando keyed the comset. "Tinker's Damn to Orbital Control. We're heading for Elder's Flat. Have your security people meet us there."

  There was a burst of outraged protest, but Lando flicked the set off.

  Wendy bit her lip and clutched her armrests as Lando headed for the surface. The ship bucked up and down and jerked back and forth as the smuggler forced it down through the atmosphere.

  Lando watched to see if the pursuing ship would try to catch them. It didn't. Good. Someone had decided to send surface forces instead. That would take some time, and the more the better.

  They came in over the ocean just as they had done before. Wendy watched the wave tops whip by to either side, and felt slightly ill.

  Tall cliffs made a jagged line against the sky, and Lando was about to pull up when he saw the river. It was wide but still strong after the rough-and-tumble journey down from the mountains.

  Lando moved the stick to the left just as the sun appeared.

  The river turned into a highway of light and the smuggler followed it upstream.

  Rocky cliffs flashed by to either side, sometimes giving way to green valleys, but always closing ranks again.

  Then the walls crept in. The river became smaller, faster, and broken by rapids. As Lando pulled the ship up and out, he was surprised by what he saw.

  The plateau, or "flat" as Wendy would call it, was like a pan onto which wind and rain had deposited what little topsoil the mountains had to offer.

  There was low-lying scrub at first, cut here and there by man-made roads, eventually giving way to carefully tended fields.

  Some fields were planted, and some weren't. All of them had been contoured to minimize soil loss. No wonder the settlers were willing to pay such a high price for fertilizer. Farming had always been tough, but the conditions on Angel made it close to impossible.

  There were houses as well, each one neat as a pin, surrounded by a cluster of sheds. Most were made of stone, something Angel had plenty of, but were missing the chimneys that one would normally expect to see.

  Given the lack of forests, or nearby coal deposits, the settlers had nothing to burn. As a result, each house had to be equipped with its own fusion plant imported at great expense from one of the inner planets.

  The town was small and carefully laid out. It consisted of two- and three-story buildings, an arrow-straight street, and a large church with an old-fashioned steeple. The whole thing looked like a scene from ancient Earth.

  "There," Wendy said, pointing towards the bow viewscreen. "That's the airfield."

  Viewed from above, the airfield looked like little more than a giant "X" that someone had scraped out of the ground. Lando saw a prefab hangar and a couple of beat-up planes, but nothing big
or fancy enough to be corporate.

  Good. It would be nice to have a little time before Mega-Metal's goons arrived and started to throw their weight around.

  Lando killed speed, switched to repellors, and felt the landing jacks thump down a few moments later.

  The Tink slumped to the left, but Lando decided to dispense with the phony leak. Might as well save the Number 3 lube for someone who cared.

  He did leave the ship's systems on standby, however. He hoped the Mega-Metals rep would listen to reason, but you never knew. He could run if push came to shove. Assuming they let him get aboard the ship, that is.

  The Tink was almost entirely surrounded by ground vehicles by the time Lando and Wendy climbed down from the lock. There were beat-up trucks, tractors, and homemade creations that defied description.

  Behind them Lando saw flat, uncultivated ground, the dark clustering of the town, and the white-capped mountains beyond. He noticed that clouds had moved in to hide the sun and erase most of the shadows.

  Lando watched as men, women, children, and dogs crowded in and around Wendy, all talking, laughing and barking at once, each eager to hug, kiss, or in some cases, lick her hand.

  Lando felt envious. He had many things, not the least of which was The Tink and the freedom that the freighter represented. But Wendy had her people, a place to call home, and a cause that she believed in. It looked like a lot.

  The crowd parted suddenly and people looked his way. Wendy moved forward with a large, awkward-looking man at her side.

  The man's bones were visible under the surface of his wind-reddened skin. A shock of white hair stood straight up from the back of his head, and that, along with the beard that whipped sideways in the wind, gave him the look of an old-time prophet. He was dressed in heavy work clothes and wore a circle-and-triangle pendant around his neck.

  But it was the man's eyes that caught and held Lando's attention. They were brown like Wendy's, warm in a way, but almost fanatically determined.

  Lando knew that this was Wendy's father, the source of her strong personality, and a force to be reckoned with. It was something they had in common. Strong fathers and mothers who died young.