Drifter (27 page)

Pal was completely speechless. His jaw worked but nothing came out. He was just about to fire Sato on the spot, when Corvo pointed towards the screens.

"Look, boss! Look at the dust! Sato's right!"

Pal looked. The truck had disappeared off the flat, but a cone of dust was pointed down behind the rim of the ancient crater. The dust was like a finger pointing at its prey.

Pal smiled. "Thank you, Sato. When you're right, you're right. Let's wrap this thing up."

Sato nodded, directed a silent "up yours" in Pal's direction, and performed a routine sweep of the screens. Movement caught his eye. His eyes went to the stern vid camera and stopped. What the hell was that? It looked as if someone was chasing the crawler.

Lando's lungs felt as if they'd burst. His heart was pounding like mad. Dust spurted up where his boots hit the ground. Just a little bit further, just a little bit further, just a little bit further.

Who knew why the crawler stopped? Who cared? Just a little bit further… twelve feet… eight… the crawler loomed in front of him… heat rising in waves off its rear deck, engine rumbling softly.

Lando was almost there, leaning forward, waiting for his fingers to touch hot metal, when the crawler's engines roared to life. Black smoke engulfed him as the machine rolled away. It was gone seconds later.

The smuggler stopped, put his hands on his knees, and sucked oxygen into his lungs. It was minute, maybe two, before he looked up. He saw it instantly. The spiral of dust, the crawler heading off to intercept, and the certainty of the outcome. Lando wiped the dust off his face with the back of his sleeve and started to jog.

Wendy looked up at the screens. "I think we lost them."

Schmidt shrugged. "I hope you're right… but it's too early to be sure. Let's find a box canyon or something similar. We'll stash the trailer and use the tractor to lead them away.

Wendy nodded her agreement and searched the monitors for some sign of what they were looking for. The problem was that there were so many passageways, corridors, and canyons, it was difficult to choose.

Schmidt skirted the edge of the very same crater that they'd been forced to flee a few minutes earlier. Was that good or bad? He wasn't sure. If only…

The crawler came out of a side passage at ten or fifteen miles an hour. There was a terrible crash as it hit Honey's right flank. The truck was lifted up off the ground and held there while both of the pincers went to work. Metal screeched and groaned as durasteel fingers cut their way through Honey's armor plate.

Schmidt gunned the engines but nothing happened. A metal claw smashed its way through Wendy's door, missed her arm by a fraction of an inch, and opened wide. Wendy hit her harness release and the geologist jerked her towards him just as the pincer snapped closed.

The rest was instinct. Schmidt tried to open the door, swore when it refused to budge, and hit the window switch. The reinforced duraplast made a whining noise as it disappeared into the door frame.

Pal's voice came over the comset. "Wendy? Are you there? Would you like this to stop?"

The pincers opened, closed on a section of the control panel, and pulled. There was a horrible crunching sound as a fifty-pound chunk of metal and plastic was ripped away. Wendy could see into the engine compartment and feel the heat that flooded out.

"Wendy, you could stop this. You liked what I did to you. I know that you did. Tell me you liked it and I'll make them stop."

The pincers took another bite of dashboard, and Honey's engines went silent as if cut with a switch.

Schmidt wriggled out through the window, desperately afraid that the truck would fall on him, but determined to drag Wendy clear. He grabbed her wrists. Wendy looked up at him and started to speak.

Schmidt saw Janice, saw her head start to turn, and knew the bullet was coming. He screamed "No!" and pulled with all his might.

Pal's voice was calm, almost conversational. "I like your body. What a waste it would be if the pincer cut it in half. But business before pleasure…"

Lando slipped, fell, and hit his knee on a rock. It hurt like hell. Damn, damn, damn! A battle raged just beyond the edge of this crater on the perimeter of the next. He could see the dust and hear the noise. The smuggler got up and limped forward.

Wendy popped loose and Schmidt fell backwards, pulling her with him. She was barely clear when the truck teetered and came crashing down. The cylinders made a loud clanging sound as they broke free of their tie-downs and rolled around inside the trailer.

Schmidt helped Wendy to her feet and they backed away as the crawler tore Honey apart. The crawler peeled the truck like a Terran orange. It ripped the armor off first, cut the frame into sections, and laid the interior bare.

The cylinders shone in the sunlight. They were naked and completely vulnerable. Tears ran down Wendy's cheeks as a pincer gave one of the cylinders an experimental nudge.

Engines roared as the crawler backed away.

Schmidt grabbed Wendy by the arm, jerked her towards a slab of rock, and pulled her behind it. It stood only waist-high, but some protection was better than none.

Metal clanged as Sato brought the pincers together. They formed a wall of steel. The crawler belched black smoke as it lurched forward. There was a clang and Wendy winced as pincers collided with metal cylinders. The tanks rolled away from the impact, banged off of each other, and came to a stop. The crawler hit them again.

Schmidt touched Wendy's arm and pointed towards the left. There was a pit in the middle of the crater, like the circle at the center of a bull's-eye, and that's where the cylinders were headed. Wendy scrambled up onto the top surface of the rock to get a better look.

She saw a cliff, a fifty-foot drop, and a pool of stagnant water. She bit a knuckle as she watched the cylinders near the edge.

The crawler stopped. Pal stuck his head out of the hatch. He waved. His voice boomed over the external loudspeaker. "Hey, Wendy! Watch this!"

The crawler roared, metal clanged, and the cylinders rolled off the edge. They fell, hit the jagged rocks below, and fell again. There were three almost simultaneous splashes. Vapor misted the air. The tanks bobbed, floated for a moment, and disappeared. A series of bubbles floated up from below, burst, and gave off clouds of gas. Languid waves rolled out to lap against the sides of the crater.

Wendy gave a long, shuddering sigh. The cylinders were gone. The dream was over. She jumped down off the rock. Schmidt did likewise.

The crawler backed away from the edge. It turned their way and stopped. Pal stood on top of the machine. About forty feet separated him from Wendy. He looked down at her.

"Well, I don't know what you had in the cylinders… but it's history now."

A blaster materialized in the corpo's hands. He aimed it at Schmidt. "Wendy and I want to be alone… so take a hike."

Schmidt's hands opened and closed. They were powerful hands, used to hard physical labor. To hell with nonviolence. The geologist had a sudden desire to wrap his fingers around Pal's neck. He started forward.

"Lars, no!"

The beam of bright blue light and the crack of a slug gun came almost together. A puddle of rock appeared next to Schmidt's right foot. It started to cool.

Pal looked surprised, staggered, and looked around. Lando fired again and the corpo flew backwards off the crawler. He hit the ground with a distinct thump.

Engines roared as the crawler turned. Smoke puffed away from Lando's arm as a pair of mini-missiles raced down to hit the right-hand track. The explosion was surprisingly loud. A link parted and the crawler came to a stop.

A scrap of white cloth appeared, followed by Corvo's arm.

Sato cut the engines and pulled his hands out of the gauntlets.

Metal made a pinging sound as it started to cool.

Wendy looked at Lando. She knew that it was wrong, but she was grateful for what he'd done. A meteor, a big one, chose that particular moment to cross the sky and explode somewhere in the distance.

Lando took charge of Sato and Corvo while Wendy walked over to the cliff. There wasn't so much as a ripple to show where the cylinders had gone in. It was over. In spite of all their planning, all their work, the whole thing was over. The company had won.

Schmidt appeared by her side. The geologist stood there for a full minute. Then he started to laugh. It began as a chuckle, segued into a full-fledged laugh, and exploded into gales of uncontrolled mirth. The geologist clutched his sides as tears rolled down his cheeks and into his beard.

Wendy wanted to smile, but did her best to resist. It didn't seem appropriate. "What's so funny?"

Schmidt pointed down towards the pit. "The cylinders… they broke open as they fell…. Look around you. Metal everywhere. Food. Leaching down into the water. Soup. The tanks fell into a big bowl of soup!"

Unable to say more, the scientist laughed again.

Wendy looked from Schmidt to the pit. Metal? Soup? What did Lars mean?

Then it hit her. Of course! The bacteria ate metal! They would thrive in the metal-rich water below! The microorganisms would flourish and multiply. They would follow the equatorial zone around the planet. Then, bit by bit, the bacteria would move north and south along the veins of rich ore until they had spread far and wide.

It was perfect! Much better than any delivery system that the scientists could have devised! Schmidt and Wendy were still laughing when Lando made his way down to stand beside them.

They told him the joke and he laughed too. He looked down into the sludge. The army had landed and the war had begun.

18

The next few weeks passed quickly.

Annette Corvo proved to be a good deal more reasonable than Lorenzo Pal had ever been. Rather than punish the colonists, she wrote a report that blamed everything on her boss, and sent it to Terra. The suits started to arrive a week and a half later. They were on the same ship that brought The Chosen's legal team.

Lando spent most of his time ducking "thank you" dinners and finalizing the arrangements by which The Chosen were supposed to pay him. A rather unlikely possibility, but what the heck, a guy could hope.

The Chosen's lawyers asked Lando to make taped depositions for use in the legal battle that was sure to follow. Both the colonists and Mega-Metals had violated countless Imperial laws. The case would keep a dozen attorneys busy for years to come.

The company had already lost the first round by requesting a planetary quarantine, a condition that made it impossible for the colonists to import any additional microorganisms but applied to the company as well.

Had Mega-Metals designed bacteria of their own, and brought them in quickly enough, they might have been able to neutralize the invading army before it had time to spread. The corporation's scientists told the executives that, but most of them were lawyers, and refused to listen.

But even though the elders had won the first battle, they were almost sure to lose the war. When the last motion had been filed, and the last appeal had run its course, Mega-Metals would emerge victorious. The company had
lots
of money,
lots
of lawyers, and
lots
of influence.

But as Lando's father liked to say, "There's winning, and then there's winning. Be sure you know which is which."

Time was on the side of the colonists. The legal process could take as long as twenty-five or thirty years. More than enough time for "Dr. Bob's magnificent metal munchers" to colonize the planet, eat the company out of house and home, and block any possibility of commercial mining.

So what if the company won the lawsuit? What good is a judgment against a bankrupt organization? And who would buy half of a worthless planet?

No, the elders looked forward to losing, especially since the Imperial government had agreed to step in. Some rather bored looking marines had landed and were keeping a close eye on both sides. The company wouldn't dare pull anything underhanded with a company of marines looking over its shoulder.

Yes, things had gone pretty well for the settlers, but not for Lando. He felt sorry for himself. It was Wendy's fault. He'd been perfectly happy until she came along. First she'd given him something, then she'd taken it away, and now it hurt.

Lando had considered hanging it up. He could ask Wendy to marry him, he could build a house, he could scrape a living out of the soil.

But it didn't fit. Deep down, the smuggler couldn't stand the thought of living on an increasingly isolated planet, staring at the soil instead of the stars, doing something he didn't enjoy. No, he'd lift and do it soon.

And not just for emotional reasons. Tests had shown that the bacteria were still confined to the E-zone. But for how long? The government would impose a two-way quarantine one of these days, and ground whatever ships were dirtside at that particular moment.
The Tink
would be stranded on the planet, food for the metal-eating bugs, a monument to the past. It was another reason to lift.

Lando kept the goodbyes as brief as possible. The moment with Wendy was the worst of all. It took place next to
The Tink's
starboard landing jack. A light breeze swept down off the mountains, rippled through the crops on Elder's Flat, and teased her hair. She looked very solemn.