Empire Builders (16 page)
TWENTY-TWO
“I DON’T LIKE it,” growled Pops Tucker. “Sounds too damn risky to me.” “We can do it,” Dan insisted.
Big George was sitting at the other end of the shelter, by the airlock, resealing a knee joint on the pressure suit he had just repaired.
“What do you think of it, Georgie?” called Tucker.
The oversized Aussie looked up from his work. The work light behind his shoulder cast its high-intensity beam on the suit legging, leaving his shaggy-maned face in shadow.
“It does sound risky,” he said.
Tucker nodded with satisfaction across the table at Dan.
“On t’other hand,” George went on, “having our own looking hopper would make life a helluva lot easier around here.”
Dan grinned back at the wizened older man. “See? George is for it.” “I didn’t say that,” George replied.
“You didn’t say you’re against it,” Dan challenged. “No. Not exactly.”
Tucker gave Dan one of his patented sour frowns. “Now look,
Mr. Big Shot: we get along here by keeping a low profile. As far as the corporations are concerned, we’re not worth the trouble of rooting us out. But if we start stealing big, then Yamagata and Astro and the others will come down on us and we’ll all end up over in the penal colony.”
Mr. Big Shot: we get along here by keeping a low profile. As far as the corporations are concerned, we’re not worth the trouble of rooting us out. But if we start stealing big, then Yamagata and Astro and the others will come down on us and we’ll all end up over in the penal colony.”
“They won’t even know it’s gone,” Dan said. “I can jigger the logistics program so that it looks as if the hopper was routinely retired from service and scrapped.”
Tucker looked utterly unconvinced.
“I can do it from here,” Dan added. “I’ve already hacked into the program so we can work it from your desktop here.”
“And how do we hide a rocket vehicle big enough to carry a five-ton payload?” Tucker snapped, his grating voice almost a snarl. “You don’t have to hide something that nobody’s going to be looking for,” Dan said. “It’s not unusual for a hopper to be parked alongside a shelter. Survey parties, maintenance crews—they all use hoppers all the time.”
“And the propellants?”
Dan grinned across the table at the older man. “I can make a deal with a couple of people in Yamagata ’s logistics center. We send them some of the designer drugs your friends in the pharmaceutical lab cook up and they divert enough propellant to us to keep the hopper running.”
“You think you’e pretty damn smart, don’tcha?” Tucker growled.
In truth, Dan did not feel comfortable making a drug deal. Most narcotics had been legalized when he had been a kid, but the designer drugs that the lab people made illicitly out of their employers’ chemical supplies were usually untested and always more potent than the stuff available legally. On the Moon, a man or woman stoned or even a bit high was a potential killer.
Yet he shrugged and answered, “I think we can do better than we are.” “Just what the hell do you want out of this? What’s pushing you, Randolph?”
“I want to get back to Earth,” Dan heard himself say. He had not known that until the words formed in his mouth. “I want to fight the bastards who stole my company and make them give me back what’s rightfully mine.”
“Fat chance.”
“Maybe no chance at all. But I’ve got to try.” “Even if it means dealing drugs?”
“Come on, Pops, you’ve bartered your share of them. We’re not talking about the hard stuff. It’s perfectly legal for people to use recreational drugs. They’re not addictive.”
“Oh no? Those lab guys brew some pretty potent shit, you know.”
“Not as potent as that rocket juice booze they make out at the Nubium camp. That stuff’ll dissolve your liver.”
From the other end of the shelter George said, “You’re talking about a lot more than the little bit o’ trading we’ve been doing.”
“It’s time you guys started thinking bigger. I’ll never get back Earthside on the minor little pilfering
you’ve been doing.” Grinning, Dan added, “If you’re going to steal, steal big! Steal big enough so you can afford a good lawyer.”
George did not laugh.
Tucker stared at Dan for several long moments, his wrinkled old face a mixture of disgust and pity, his red-rimmed eyes wary, almost feral.
“I wish I could get back to Earth too,” he said at last, his voice so low Dan could barely hear him. “I got grandchildren I never seen. They think I’m dead. My own kids think I’m dead.”
“Help me and I’ll help you,” Dan said.
Tucker made a derisive snort. “It ain’t that easy, Mr. Big Shot. I’ll never get back to Earth. Body’s all shot to hell. I’d collapse and die of heart failure if I tried to stand up to a full g.”
“But we could-”
“You could nothing!” the old man snapped angrily. “You think you’re so friggin’ smart. Do this, do that, and snap, crackle and pop you’re back on top of the world. Lemme tell you, Big Shot, it ain’t gonna happen.”
Dan stared back at the bitter old man.
“Know how I got here? Playin’ with their computers, just like you want to do. I was an expert at it. I made a friggin’ fortune for myself, workin’ for Astro by day and piling up a fortune in bank accounts all over the world just with a few touches on my keyboard at night.”
“They caught you?”
“I caught myself. Couldn’t keep my big stupid mouth shut. I was so-o smart! Got a couple drinks into me one night and told a pal what I was doin’. Two days later a squad of Yamagata security pigs lifted me outta my desk chair and threw me in a detention cell. Japs! Your friggin’ Astro security people let the Japs pick me up.” Dan said, “Yamagata’s responsible for law enforcement all through A1phonsus. What you did wasn’t just an internal Astro matter.”
With a sour face, Tucker went on, “They sent me to the penal colony for five years. I got out in two, good behavior and all that crap, but by then I couldn’t make the trip back to Earth. Too weak. Muscles shot to hell; heart too.”
“So?”
“So they put me on an enforced exercise program. Worse than the penal colony. Like being’ in boot camp. Instructor was some fanatic from Uganda ; he thought Afro-Americans were nothin’ but shit. Gave me hell every minute. And they were chargin’ me for the service! By the time I woulda got back Earthside I’d not only be broke and have a prison record, I’d owe the friggin’ Yamagata Corporation a year’s friggin’ salary!”
“You bugged out?”
“Damn right. That African bastard was tough but he wasn’t smart. I faked a heart attack and snuck out
of the hospital they put me in. Been on my own ever since. Met up with Big George a few years ago and we been livin’ in these shelters, going’ from one to another every few months.”
of the hospital they put me in. Been on my own ever since. Met up with Big George a few years ago and we been livin’ in these shelters, going’ from one to another every few months.”
George put down the suit legging and came up to the table.
Sitting down massively, he said, “You know, Pops, I been thinking that if we had a hopper we could make the move from one shelter to another a lot easier.”
“We’ve been doing all right without a hopper.” “We could do better with one,” Dan said. “Like how?”
“We could extend your range of operations. Instead of just going as far as the mining camp on the other side of the ringwall, we could start trading with Copernicus.”
“A hopper can’t get that far!”
“Unrefueled it can’t,” Dan said. “But suppose I could get my friends at Yamagata to deposit propellant supplies for us along the route to Copernicus?”
“You’re crazy,” Tucker muttered.
Big George looked thoughtful, though. “Let me ask you something, Dan.” “Sure.”
“What do we gain by all this? I can see the risks we’ll be taking, but what do we stand to gain?” “Money.”
“Money?” Tucker snapped. “What the hell can we do with money? We live on barter, we’ve got no use for cash or credits.” “Money,” Dan repeated. “Until now you guys have just been living hand to mouth, just eking out your survival. But now we’re going to start making money. We’re going to pile up credits in banking accounts.”
“Why?”
“To buy what each of us wants. Freedom. With money you can buy lawyers. You can buy media reporters. You can buy your way out of this rat’s nest and come back into normal society and begin to live like real human beings again.”
Ever since her meeting in Houston with Jeff Robertson, Jane had been troubled by the Texas energy tycoon’s angry remarks about the Mafia.
For more than a week she did nothing about it. But each time she saw Rafaelo Gaetano, whether it was in a meeting or a cocktail party or just in passing in the GEC offices, the question nagged at her. Is Rafe really part of the international crime syndicate? And what did Jeff mean by what he said? Is he really worried that the Mafia might in some way try to hinder our global conversion plan? No matter how she tried to forget the matter or ignore the persistent questions that percolated through her mind, she could
not drive the matter out of her consciousness. One night she even dreamed that Dan was alive, not on the Moon but in Sicily , running a vastly complex criminal organization instead of his own Astro Corporation.
not drive the matter out of her consciousness. One night she even dreamed that Dan was alive, not on the Moon but in Sicily , running a vastly complex criminal organization instead of his own Astro Corporation.
When she awoke that morning, troubled and bleary-eyed, she made her decision. She phoned Jeff Robertson. From her apartment, not her office at GEC headquarters.
For several heartbeats the phone’s screen remained blank. Jane sat at the little curved rosewood desk in the room she used as an office and realized that it was only a little past four in the morning in Houston .
Finally the screen brightened and Robertson’s puffy-eyed face appeared, grinning curiously. “You know I’m an early riser, Jane honey,” he said amiably, “but this is kinda ridiculous, isn’t it?” “I’m sorry, Jeff,” she blurted.
“If the phone had said it was anybody but you I’d have cussed ‘em out and gone back to sleep.” “I just couldn’t put off calling you any longer.”
“It’s about what I told your Italian friend, huh?” “Yes. How did you-”
“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to gnaw on that bone.” “Are you really serious?” Jane asked. “Is there an actual threat from some international crime syndicate?”
“You bet there is.”
“It’s hard to see how criminals could get in the way of the GEC.” “That’s part of what makes ‘em successful,” Robertson said.
“The victim doesn’t even know he’s being infected. Real parasites.” “What should we do?”
“First thing you oughtta do is hop on over here so we can talk in private, one on one. I got a lot to show you but I don’t trust phone links.”
Jane immediately thought that Rafe would find it suspicious if she suddenly took off for Houston . She said, “I could take a long weekend, a sort of minivacation.”
“At you; home in Horseshoe Bay ?” “Yes.”
“Got room for a weekend guest?” “For you, Jeff, anytime.”
I’ll have to bring the wife. She don’t trust me too far.” Jane laughed. “Of course. Bring Helen along with you.”
“I was getting frantic, that’s why!” Kate Williams nearly shouted at the phone screen.
Her sister’s face stared out at her, eyes smoldering with sullen distrust. Kimberly Williams was four years younger than her sister. Even with her flaming red hair cropped militarily short, she looked enough like Kate so that a stranger would quickly realize they were sisters; but Kim looked used, worn, pale and sick. Except for her eyes. They were fiery, tawny, defiant, the eyes of a caged leopard. “You didn’t have to call the fuckin’ police,” Kim said.
“I hadn’t heard from you in a week,” Kate replied, her inner anger building. “You hadn’t shown up in the clinic for ten days.” In the two and a half seconds it took for Kim’s reply to come to her, Kate studied her sister’s face. No bruises. Eyes look clear, not dilated.
“I was with one of their damned doctors! It was his idea to take a week off and go have some fun!”
Kate pulled in a deep breath, trying to calm herself, trying to avoid the explosion that so often erupted when she and Kim talked to one another.
“I’m clean,” Kim added, less belligerently. “The doctor wouldn’t let me get started again.” “That—that’s good,” said Kate.
Again the transmission lag. Then Kim’s pale, angry face softened. “He didn’t want me stoned.” She almost giggled. “I had to be awake and alert to please him.”
Christ, Kate thought, there’s always the damned ‘body tax.
You’d think by now a man and a woman could work together or be friends without sex. “Listen, Kim,” she heard herself saying. “How’d you like to come up here for a while?” “To the Moon? Leave the clinic?”
“I can arrange for your treatment to continue here. I’m going to be staying here for a while. Why don’t you come up and stay with me?” She waited for her words to register on her sister’s face.
“You really mean it, Kate? You want me to stay with you?” “I love you, Kimberly. I know I haven’t been the best big sister in the world to you, but I want us to be together now.”
Kate had not expected the reaction she got. Kimberly broke into tears. The two sisters cried together, separated by a quarter-million miles but feeling closer’ than they had in years.
It was an hour later, all the details of Kim’s trip to Alphonsus carefully worked into the computer, when Kate signed the authorization for scrapping a long list of defunct equipment. Computers notwithstanding, such orders had to be signed; the legal department insisted on a personal signature of authorization.
Kate signed the thin plastic sheet—paper being nonexistent on the Moon—with only a cursory glance at the list of equipment to be scrapped. She noticed that it included a full-sized rocket hopper, but she paid
no real attention to that. She was thinking, instead, that it would be good for Kim to be away from her doctor friend. And with Kim at Alphonsus, Kate herself would not have to pay court to Rafaelo Gaetano anymore.
It had been a long time since Dan had piloted a hopper. Inside his pressure suit he felt a thin sheen of nervous cold sweat as the Astro technician walked him around the ungainly vehicle.
The hopper looked worn and battered. Maybe it really is ready for the scrap pile, Dan thought as he walked around it. Sitting on six splayfooted aluminum legs, it was little more than an open-grillwork platform with a T-shaped control console up front where two space-suited people could stand, and a trio of bulky cargo containers, their gold anodized finishes pitted and faded. Underneath there were six in all rocket nozzles, looking black and hard-used, evenly spaced around a long flat propellant tank. The craft’s minimal electronics were built into the forward console. Spare oxygen bottles were strapped against the first cargo container.
“You read the manual?” The tech’s voice in Dan’s helmet earphones sounded dubious. The young man knew that what he was doing was illegal, and the wreck of a “scrapped” hopper anywhere near Astro’s launch facility would swiftly be pinned to him.
“You saw me go through it, right on your own screen,” Dan said. “Pretty damned fast, if you ask me.”
“I’m a speed reader. Besides, I can pull up the manual on the control panel screen, can’t I?” “Helluva time to be reading the manual, when you’re spinning into the ground.”
“I was flying these rigs before you were born,” Dan snapped.
“Yeah, sure. You came up here with Armstrong and Aldrin, didn’t you?” Dan laughed. “No, H. G. Wells.”
The two space-suited men walked slowly around the hopper, checking it out by eye. It looked old and weary to Dan, but the computer said all its systems were fully functional.
“Come on,” the technician chivvied, “I ain’t got all day for this.”
He’s scared somebody will see us and realize that this clunker is supposed to be heading for the recyclers, Dan knew.
“Okay,” he said, drawing in a deep breath. “Guess she won’t look any better than she does now.”
He climbed up the two-rung ladder while the tech quickly went to his little tractor and wordlessly started back toward the launching facility, about a kilometer away.
Dan plugged his suit radio into the console and asked for clearance to take off. Hoppers were always flitting around the lunar cities; the only need for traffic control was when they were located near a launch facility.
“Stand by, hopper,” said a man’s voice. “Got a tour boat about to leave.”
Dan turned entirely around so he could watch the passenger spacecraft lift off, more than a kilometer away. The launch was not a spectacular display, as it would have been on Earth. No thunder of rocket engines. No slow majestic rise of the booster out of clouds of exhaust and steam. The big bulbous spacecraft merely seemed to flick itself off the Moon’s surface like a flea jumping: one instant it was sitting on the launchpad, the next it was gone, flung into the dark sky so quickly that Dan lost sight of it in the restricted view from inside his helmet. A small dust storm swirled lazily around the pad in the wake of the launching, the thin clouds slowly sinking back to the ground in the gentle lunar gravity.
“Okay hopper, you are clear to take off.”
Dan reached for the pistol-grip control bar, feeling both a little scared and a little exhilarated. “Hopper taking off,” he said into his helmet mike.
The craft shuddered as he thumbed the ignition switch, then rose slowly off the ground. Cautiously, Dan turned it toward the tempo shelter he had been living in, and started gaining altitude to clear the first level of the ringwall. He grinned to himself. It had been a long time, but now he remembered that back in the old days flying one of the hoppers had always reminded him of flying on a magic carpet.
“I’m heading back to Earth,” he muttered to himself. Then he added, grinning, “Even the longest journey is started with a single theft.”
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