Lasertown Blues Read online

  They walked down the long length of corridor, the air more metallic and smothering every second, until it suddenly widened into a hall, where the air freshened somewhat, as an ancient recycler wheezed inside the arch. Massive bulkhead doors closed at their heels once every man was in.

  He recognized Bull at the platform, transistorized speaker worn over his bulging adam’s apple. Next to him was a woman, short-haired, nearly androgynous and supple as a gazelle. Jack had only a second to wonder who she was.

  “Contractors, in a few moments, you will be given your crew berth assignments. You’ll be joining crewmembers who have seniority here. Give them the respect that is their due—becoming a part of the team is something your lives as well as your cheeks depend on.” The foreman’s gaze swept them disdainfully. He deferred to the woman at his side. “Governor Franken.”

  “Contractors.” Her voice, definitely feminine with overtones of a hidden strength, stilled the crowd immediately. How long, Jack wondered, had it been for some of them, hearing a woman’s voice. He thought of Amber, too young for him, and yet he felt a pang. How could he ever have forgotten Amber?

  “Contractors, it is customary at this time to allow those of you who feel you’ve been inducted unfairly to come forward. Your case will be reviewed. We’re a mining community. Our lives depend on the happiness and reliability of our workers. Speak now,” and she smiled, a smoky expression that faded before the echo of her words, “or forever hold your peace.”

  The crowd stirred. Jack found Stash elbowing in next to him. The man looked at him. “Say a word and you’re dead,” he said.

  “What?”

  Stash nodded earnestly toward the governor. “Don’t believe a word she says.”

  Behind him, two men argued in low, coarse voices. The querulous one said, “Me ex-wife did it, I tell you! She used an old plastiprint to authorize me contract.”

  “Hist and what if she did. Hold your tongue.”

  The governor pressed slender fingers to her throat mike. “No takers?”

  Jack felt jostled as the second man gripped the first man in place. He shrugged. “What the hell.” He stepped out and away from Stash. “I’d like my contract reviewed, your honor.”

  A hush settled over the rumbling crowd. Her eyes raked over Jack. “Well,” she said, and smiled sadly. “An honest man.” She looked to Bull, who stood mute. She waved to Jack. “You’ll be escorted.” She turned and left the platform, settling herself in a one-man cart.

  Two immense men flanked Jack, and they walked to a four-man cart. Jack looked back. Stash’s impervious smirk had vanished and his face had whitened. He gave a jaunty wave. “See ya, mate.”

  Not that he expected it to be a farewell, or even that his complaint be taken seriously. Jack only hoped he could survive what was going to happen to him, the price he would pay to see the hub of Lasertown, to get an overview of the deathtrap he planned to escape, an overview he would never have a chance to get cloistered in the stifling tunnels. The cart jerked forward, throwing him against the massive shoulders of the guard to his right, as they started toward the great, bloated belly of the spider city.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady—ah—”

  “Styrene,” Amber said, drawing herself up. Posture and bearing did more for this role than did makeup and dress. She looked at the solid man who positively seeped managerial qualities.

  “Yes. Your, ah, baggage, far outweighs the allotment—”

  She looked away, feigning unconcern, even as her heart did flip-flops. She did not want to leave Bogie behind! Suppose Jack needed him to fight his way out of this mess? “Yes, I’m aware. I have… necessities. Charge the overweight to my account.”

  The Duchess’ account. But, then, surely, the Duchess would have known this would occur once she’d decided to lend out her chip so boldly. And Amber would arrange to have it paid back.

  “Madame Styrene, this is excessive even beyond overweight penalties.”

  Facing the other direction, Amber bit her lip. Damn! Why did Bogie have to weigh so much! Her other luggage carried a pittance of a wardrobe. Even leaving the other two bags behind would barely make a dent. The ticket manager cleared his throat and continued, “I would advise shipping the trunk or storing it…”

  Amber watched the wave of passengers pass the centrifuge scales. The crowd was light, not many people spaced out this way. An idea seized her. She swung around to the manager. “I can’t leave my trunk behind, citizen. Perhaps we can make other, er, arrangements.”

  His gaze swept her almost guiltily and he flushed, his large fleshy nose showing pink. “Lady Styrene, I hardly think this is the way to carry out a business—”

  “Another ticket,” Amber said haughtily. “Your passenger manifest appears to be a little light to me. I’ll take my trunk on as another passenger. Cheaper than shipping it, eh? And certainly within your weight limits.”

  The manager licked his lips. “Well. Ah. A heavy passenger, but we’ve spaced heavier. Not human, of course, but… well. I don’t see why not. Charge the fare to your account?”

  Amber waved her hand. “You have my authorization. Now, I know you must be a dreadfully busy man. Is that all you needed me for?”

  The manager shook her hand. “Thank you for the cooperation, Lady Styrene. Your boarding pass.” He stamped the back of her hand lightly, lingeringly, before he released it.

  Amber bolted up the ramps as she realized he must have had another kind of business arrangement in mind.

  The ticket manager watched her go, more graceful than a woman of her age and bearing might ordinarily be. Under her pancake makeup and heavily styled hair, she had a youthful beauty hidden that he, for a fleeting second, wished he might have had access to. But he had his orders. He returned to his office com and opened the lines.

  Winton answered promptly.

  “I had to let her on.”

  “Does she still have the baggage?”

  “She bought a passenger ticket for the overage. I could hardly refuse her, under the circumstances.”

  The man made a cold sound at the back of his throat. He tapped at the monitor’s framework. “You could have, if I had ordered you to do so.”

  “Yes, well, if you had ordered.” The ticket manager’s mouth went dry. “I could, er, still do so…”

  “No. Never mind. Let her go.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want her—”

  Winton’s dark eyes stared harshly at the man out of the visiphone screen. “You don’t know what I want, other than for her to be delayed or refused, if possible, without raising suspicion. You have done what you can, within your limited scope. That is enough for you to know.”

  The com line went dead abruptly.

  Winton sat back in his chair. He looked out the rosy pink wing of the Emperor’s palace. The man should have been dead, and was not. Several times over, should have been dead. Perhaps this time, it would be wiser to stay in the background. Let the girl find him, if she could. If she could, he would deal with them both. If she could not, he was still as good as dead.

  But not dead. No. And Winton wanted him dead. Dead as dead could be. He’d have to think of a way to handle it, after all.

  But after Milos and Claron and even Malthen, Winton was beginning to think that this man led a charmed life. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the monitor framing.

  Once aboard, Amber pulled off her wig and scrubbed her face of makeup, angrily, anxiously, as if she could change everything about herself. Rolf had taught her to read people. Now she knew she had the psychic ability that gave her the edge to do so and do so uncannily well—and she knew the ticket agent had let her aboard too easily. What had he been ordered to do? Delay her enough to miss the flight? Discourage her altogether without alerting her?

  But she’d been made and she knew it. Jack had been ordered killed instead of chilled down and shipped out… and if they followed her and she was lucky enough to find his trail—Jack was still a dead ma
n. Damn Ballard. The Duchess’ chip was as good as smoked. She’d have to throw the Duchess offboard, get her bags and get out without being noticed. Before they made port. Before, or it was no good at all.

  Amber tapped on the viewscreens and watched latecomers boarding. She watched nervously, unseeing, thinking. The baggage slide was still quiet. Freight would go on last.

  And that meant she needn’t get on at all. Amber chewed on her lower lip. She spotted an elegant looking woman on the ramp, an older, equally elegant looking man at her elbow. Amber smiled. A little bit of pickpocketing in reverse ought to solve part of her problem—for the moment. A quick pat and the chip would change ownership. A tradesman’s coveralls, and she’d have the trunk out of the freight loading area. She’d leave the other bags, not needing them now. Amber knew how to start over from scratch, she’d done it often enough, and this wasn’t the only spaceport off Malthen. It didn’t even dock the fastest ships. She suddenly decided she needed a very fast ship.

  And once she picked up the trail out of the cold sleep lab, she’d think of something else.

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t look like a torture chamber to him, but then, he hadn’t been in a torture chamber before. Jack had few illusions about the appearance of the outer offices of the governor, though, for the two giants flanking him were tense as well as muscled. That made for a bad impression despite the unthreatening décor.

  And the air smelled almost as bad in here as it did out there.

  “Sit,” the big man on his left said.

  Jack sat. He looked out the large windowed wall of the outer office and saw the sprawling mining community below. Drab. Gray. Sterile. The two men started to leave. Jack looked up. “No company?”

  They grinned. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  As the door shut behind them, Jack saw they were right. The interior walls of this place were heavily fortified. He stood up and walked to the window behind the computer bank. The dome overhead shut off most of the view of space. He saw no sign of the planet the moon encircled.

  Once down in the tunnels, he wasn’t likely to get a view of it ever.

  He rubbed his arms. He turned and looked at the armored door. In the suit, he could have walked through it. He savored his newly gained memories. Everything was in its place, that he could expect, with the exception of Stash. He remained enigmatic.

  There was a snick, a slight movement in the air pressure. Jack swiveled and saw that the door to the inner offices had just barely opened. Sound bled out. He heard the governor’s voice.

  “What’s the damage look like?”

  “Tunnel 102 is shut down. You can override the computer if you want. I’m told the crew got an insulator panel up in time. They’re asking for official action.” A crisp male voice, blurred slightly by the com lines. Jack relaxed a little and stepped closer to listen.

  “I can’t do that. The tunnels are not part of the main installation. If Lasertown is the spider, the mining tunnels are the webs. It’ll be damn difficult proving the Thraks strafed it on purpose and that it wasn’t hit by debris from the embargo lines. Override the recycling computer if you think the leak is plugged. And get the crew back in there to make repairs. Dock them two pay periods if anyone refuses to go.”

  “But governor—they want protection.”

  The woman swore softly. Then she said, “They’re drilling below the surface. That’s all the protection they get.”

  “That’s not enough when the Thraks come in.”

  “It’s all they’re going to get! I have to protect the main domes. The scramble and the armament stay focused in on the main domes.”

  Jack stood quietly and listened to the angry buzz of a disconnected com line. He stretched his neck thoughtfully. Almost before he had a chance to draw a breath, an incoming call chimed.

  “Governor Franken?”

  The woman sighed imperceptibly and answered, “Yes, Reverend Wesley. How may I help you?”

  “There is some concern in the hotel because of the latest raid.”

  “Everything is fine, reverend.”

  “There are rumors of a disaster in the mines.”

  She answered without even a pause. Jack grimaced. The woman could definitely think on her feet. “Rumor, only. One of the recycling computers has a malfunction. It showed a blowout and shut down one of the newer tunnels. But there’s no leak and we have it under control.”

  “Ah.” The softly modulated male voice paused. “Perhaps then we can discuss our petition?”

  “This is really not the time, Reverend Wesley.” Governor Franken did not strain to keep the irritation from her voice.

  Her caller pressed. “We’ve been delayed several months already, governor. I’ve had an opportunity to review some of the on-surface strip mining projects—”

  “How did you get hold of that! That information is confidential.” Now Franken was no longer bored and angry, but just angry.

  “Let’s just say that we Walkers have believers everywhere. It was given to us by someone who believes that we have a genuine archaeological find that we must investigate, not mine. Your plans for the area will destroy the evidence this moon’s unique conditions preserve.”

  “Oh, come on now,” Franken snapped. “If you think Jesus Christ walked on this… this rock, you’re more than fanatics, you’re insane. Look at it out there beyond the domes, reverend!”

  “The ways of the Lord are mysterious. Who can say if this moon was always lifeless? And if it has been, who can say how the Lord chose to visit it, if visit it He did. You haven’t answered our petition.”

  Jack felt the tension fairly boiling out of the inner office. He stood very still, half-holding his breath.

  “And I don’t intend to, yet, reverend, until I’ve had time to review it properly. The site of contention is on the dark side and I have yet to see any visual evidence to corroborate your assertion that there is a find. I like to have some evidence myself before making decisions.”

  Jack thought that it would be damned difficult getting an aerial photographic assessment, what with the Thraks picking away at Lasertown.

  The male voice said firmly, “At least that’s better than a denial. And when do you think you’ll be able to make time?”

  Franken’s nails clicked impatiently on the desk top. “If you can get these Thraks off our backs, it might help.”

  A dry chuckle. “That would be miraculous work. I’m sorry, governor, but that is not in my province. However,” a pause, “to give you some incentive, I’ve been informed that my superior is en route. He knows how to apply pressure. Good day, governor.”

  The line buzzed open and the speaker cut off abruptly, leaving dead silence. He heard the woman murmur, “You’re not so bad at it, yourself.”

  Jack walked back to the couch where he’d been deposited. Walker evidence here? He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That would be something to see.

  The door opened and Governor Franken emerged. She smiled, a whitened, strained gesture. “Well,” she said. “Not many contractors take me up on my offer.”

  “I’m sure it was not a wise decision on my part.”

  The woman leaned against the computer console. She showed a sleek amount of leg, having changed her protective gear for in-office wear. She tilted her head to one side. “You’re as intelligent as you look.”

  Jack answered with a small nod of his own. He stood up. “I’m a free mercenary, Governor Franken, not a contractor. But I’m not stupid enough to think that the labor contract you hold on me has any loopholes. If it had—I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

  She smiled, a loveless expression that etched vertical lines to either side of her mouth. “You may not make it much farther if you decide to threaten me at this point.”

  “Not threaten. But free mercenaries share a certain camaraderie, if you will.”

  “As well as reputations.” Governor Franken reached behind her and picked up a smokestick from the computer console
. She lit it, and an incense-scented gray-blue smoke drifted out as she drew on it deeply, then exhaled. “Done anything that we might have heard about, even way out here on the frontier?”

  “I was in the assault group that took out General Gilgenbush’s satellite.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “You surprise me again… whatever your name is.”

  “Last I heard, it was still Jack. Jack Storm.”

  “And what kind of labor were you shanghaied for?”

  “Demolitions. I got myself demoted to welding, however.”

  She drew again, tension lines easing out of her face and bared neckline almost perceptibly. “I would think a man with your background would find demolitions a natural.”

  “I find staying alive even more natural,” Jack answered dryly.

  “So I don’t get to hear about your injustices? Stories about your enemies?”

  “If I told you stories about my enemies, you might find yourself working down in the tunnels next to me.”

  “Really?” Franken straightened abruptly. “So if you don’t want your contract contested, what do you want?”

  Jack smiled. He walked over to the window and looked out. He had a nearly 200 degree overview of Lasertown. “I just wanted to see the lay of the land, governor.” His smile stayed as he turned back to her. Thrakian raids could camouflage an escape very nicely.

  “Just the land?” Franken asked gently. “It doesn’t pay to question the contract. If you managed to break it, you would still be in hock to the company. For transportation, food, gear, and so forth. Talk, in Lasertown, isn’t cheap.”

  “I guessed that.”

  The silence that fell in the office tingled along his spine. He was caught in the spider’s web and the spider’s lair. And he had the distinct feeling that this spider lady could be most poisonous. He might gain freedom of a certain kind if he stayed here—but he would also be watched more closely. He remained smiling. “Thank you for the tour.”