Lasertown Blues Read online

“And do you think they would have listened? Come on, Jack. This is wai, us against the rest of them.”

  “No, that’s just it, Stash. We’re all in this together. You don’t seem to get that, do you? Lasertown is a cruddy, miserable excuse for life… but we’re all in this together. That’s the only way we’re getting out of here.”

  Stash rubbed his bruised face where Fritzi had smashed a food tray into it. He shook his head. “You’re still a baby, Jack.” He shouldered past him in the hallway. “I guess that’s one o’ the things I like about you.” He snickered. “You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

  Infuriated, Jack watched him leave, then followed after. Hall security cameras watched his every move. He looked up at them briefly. In his frustration with Stash, he had uttered a very potent truth. If all the miners broke out together, there was nothing on this rock that could hold them.

  Amber didn’t think she could get much colder and live. She paused, huffing and puffing, in the shadowy corner of a side street. Her breath no longer frosted on the air, her insides now just as cold as her outsides. She hauled the trunk alongside her, its bottom scraping the sleet covered streets. She had none of the things she needed to survive here at Wheeling—no money, no E.P. suit, not even a jacket. There would always be hope tomorrow, in the daylight, if this godforsaken planet had a daylight.

  She tucked her hands in her armpits.

  Actually, the planet was far from godforsaken. It was a Walker outpost built as a jump-off point for further exploration. Just before dusk, the streets had been full of them, snug in their robes, even the women. Amber took her hands out and breathed on them hopefully. If she could just keep her fingers limber until someone came out of a bar or gambling pit… then she could lift some plastic and charge for a night’s rest.

  She stood on one numbed leg and then the other. Nights were always worse, always, when things were bad. She wouldn’t give up till morning. There was always another day. Always, she told herself.

  Unless she froze to death on the street tonight.

  She thought momentarily of pawning Bogie. He was a pain to drag around anyway, but she didn’t have enough coin for a locker at the port. But she doubted anyone here would value the armor. And it would be a lot tougher to steal back than a ring or charge card.

  Amber discarded the idea.

  She flexed her fingers. So close and yet so far.

  A white, frosty cloud of warm air puffed onto the end of the street not far from where Amber huddled. She watched it with a new sense of hope.

  “I suggest we retire for the evening, sir. You’ve an early morning ahead of you.”

  More than one man came out on the street. Amber disliked the odds, but then decided she could create enough chaos on the sleet-and-icy streetway to offset that.

  An older man—she couldn’t see him well in the halo of light from the street lamps—rubbed his gloved hands together. “I don’t see Wheeling near as often as I should. I like to keep an eye on what we built.”

  The younger man gave a polite laugh. “It’s no longer ours, sir.”

  “No, indeed. The leading edge of the frontier, with all its roughness, seems to have claimed it. Some good work for you, eh, if I decide to go on alone?”

  “Sir! You can’t… the dig…”

  “Ah. You want to see the dig site.”

  The younger man straightened to an awkward, beanpole height. “More than anything!”

  “It’s not been authorized.”

  “No, sir.”

  Amber gave her fingers one last rub. She’d have to leave the trunk in the alley and come back in a few hours. But the snow was drifting over it already, and she doubted anyone would find it. She prepared for the bump and hit, and dash across the road.

  It was now or never.

  Amber threw herself out of the alley. She bumped the older man, found his plastic immediately, tripped him down and sent him rolling into the second man. Then she ran for it.

  But the second man jumped the body of the first agilely. Amber heard him grunt, his warm breath grazed her shoulder, and then she was hit herself, tumbling through the air. She hit the ground and skidded, her breath sobbing from her lungs, the plastic card cutting into her frozen fingers. She lay gasping for breath as the young man kicked her over onto her back.

  His angry brown eyes blazed down at her, his face blurred by the street light. “Even in Wheeling, slag, you have to have guts to attack a saint.”

  Amber caught the ragged edges of her breath. It was cold and iced through her bruised chest. “Saint or not, I got to live.”

  The older man ambled over and put a hand on his friend’s arm as he looked down mildly. “What have you caught, Lenska?”

  “A thief.” The young man kicked her wrist to knock the card out of her hand. The blow on her iced bone was even more shocking than it might have been and Amber gasped.

  “That’s enough, Lenska.” The older man bent over. “She looks harmless enough to me.”

  “She? That’s female?”

  “I think so. Yes,” and the man laughed softly. “When it wants to be. What are you doing out here?”

  “Surviving.” Amber stood up stiffly.

  “Not well. And thieving is no way to do it.” The older man looked at the beanpole. “Here’s your first challenge. How would you reform her?”

  Amber felt sullen as the young man looked over. He grimaced. “I wouldn’t even try.”

  The old man tsked. He looked at her. “Then you try to reform yourself. Name your punishment.”

  She thought of the warm robes she’d seen the others wearing. “Make me a nun,” she said, only a little sarcastically. The one called Lenska kicked hard.

  “Really? Repent and become a nun? Would you?”

  “I’d do anything to get warm again,” Amber answered honestly, and a little hopefully, for the older man had a wealth of humor in his eyes.

  “Sir!” gasped the beanpole. “That’s sacrilege.”

  “No,” laughed the elder. “That’s realism. Come with me, then, and I’ll see what I can do. But only until you get warm. I won’t have the robes of a Walker disgraced.”

  “But, sir, you can’t take on a—a street thief.”

  “And why not?”

  “You’re spacing out tomorrow morning.”

  The brisk walking brought some feeling back to Amber’s legs and feet. She began to shiver violently. The old man noticed and removed an outer cloak. He draped it over her shoulders. “Ah, yes. That’s right. That is a problem. Unless, of course, you’d like to come with us.”

  Amber shook her head, her teeth chattering, but she forced out, “No… no, sir. I’ve got places to go.”

  “So have I. But I can’t leave you here to the weather and the streets. That’s a Walker failing. Once having found work that needs to be done, we don’t like to walk away from it. And I think you need some re-working, young lady, unless I miss my guess.”

  Amber stopped short and dropped the warm cloak in the snow. “No,” she said. “I’m not anybody’s project. I have to find somebody. Thanks, anyway.”

  And Lenska blurted, “You can’t take her to Lasertown, Colin.”

  Amber blinked. “Lasertown?” she repeated numbly. She bent quickly and picked up the cloak. “On the other hand,” she said, “I did say I’d even become a nun to get warm.”

  St. Colin smiled broadly. “There’ve been worse reasons,” he answered and took her chilled hand in his.

  Chapter Ten

  Well,” St. Colin said, as they settled aboard the compartment suite. He had said little during the night or in the morning when Amber rescued the snow-laden trunk from the alleyway, though his magnificent eyebrows had danced a little with surprise. He waited until Lenska left, though the shambling youth had not wanted to, and had glared at Amber when he finally did.

  Amber, meanwhile, snuggled into her new clothes which were courtesy of the Walker church. Her fingers fairly glowed with rosy warmth. She sat down and drew
her legs up inside the robe, and wrapped her arms about her knees. “Yes?”

  Colin sat as well. “You don’t expect me to believe you wish to become a nun or even a convert. What is there at Lasertown you expect to find?”

  “I’m not all that interested in Lasertown,” Amber returned. “Any place is better than this iceberg.”

  He shook his head, wearily. “No, my street thief. I expect the truth from you. You’re not from Wheeling, either, or you’d have been dressed for the cold. Therefore, you’re in transit. And you know what to expect from Lasertown, I think. It’s a dead moon mining community. By going there with me, you are, as the ancient saying has it, going from the frying pan into the fire as ill-prepared as you are. Treat me with respect and intelligence, child. What do you want in Lasertown?”

  Amber’s nose twitched. She tossed her head and looked at him warily. “All right. I have a friend I think was sent there.”

  “Sent?”

  “Illegal labor contract. I think he was put into cold sleep and shipped out under one.”

  The religious man sat quietly, thoughts shadowing mild brown eyes and the air conditioning in the cabin ruffling the thin fringe of hair he had left. Labor contracts were the closest thing to slave labor. Difficult to stop from being made and still more difficult to breach. He’d been handsome, once, she thought, even as she looked away from his gaze which she found hard to bear. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Perhaps, child, you were merely abandoned again.”

  “No! He had no reason to sign up. I know he was taken forcibly by someone who wants him out of the way.”

  “Who would want to do such a thing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, St. Colin, you don’t want to know. But there are reasons, all right. Anyway, if I can just get to him, I can prove who he is and they’ll have to let him go.”

  “Break contract?”

  “That’s right. I’ve been tracking him for a couple of months.”

  “I see.” The Walker fingered his crude cross as though it helped him to meditate. “Just who is this man?”

  Amber hesitated for just a moment, then shrugged. “He’s Jack Storm, and he’s a member of the Emperor’s new Guard. Whoever messed with him is going to be real sorry.”

  St. Colin’s eyebrows danced again and his face paled slightly. “Storm, you said? Kind of sandy haired, tired blue eyes? Plain face, but striking?”

  “That’s him! You know him?”

  The man sank back in his chair and mumbled. “Indeed, I do.” He thumbed on the intercom. “All right, Lennie. Tell the pilot he has my okay to take off.”

  Amber’s head swiveled. “What?”

  Colin shrugged. “You didn’t think I’d take you along for the ride, my dear, without knowing why you wanted to go? This old hide has been a target once or twice in its lifetime, too. As a matter of fact, this Jack of yours is responsible for saving it the last time out.”

  Amber shoved her legs out of her curled up position and stood up. “You mean you were going to kick me off?”

  “Of course, if you hadn’t told the truth or I didn’t like what I heard. I would have let you keep the robes, though. I do have some Christian charity.” He beckoned at her. “I suggest you sit down now. The take off will be more than a little bumpy.”

  Amber sat as the ship began to thrum. She swallowed heavily, disliking the thrust of a ship taking off from full gravity.

  St. Colin fished around in his robe pocket, peeled off something and handed her a tiny patch. “Put that behind your ear. It’s Triscopalomine. Does wonders for take offs.”

  She did as she was told.

  The Walker settled back. His dark blue robes shimmered over the plain taupe jumpsuit beneath it. “How would anyone get their hands on Jack? He’s damn near invincible wearing that armor of his.”

  “He wasn’t wearing it. It’s in the trunk I’m lugging along.”

  “I see.” Colin half-closed his eyes in thought. “Do you think it’s wise bringing something like that along to Lasertown?”

  She grinned. “I figure Jack might need all the persuasion he can find.”

  “Yes, well, you’re probably right there.” He smiled back. “And having me on your side won’t hurt any, either.”

  Their conversation was interrupted as the ship began its spiral launch, the force of its thrust pushing them deep into the heavily padded chairs. But Amber closed her eyes in appreciation of St. Colin’s intuitive grasp of the situation. All hell was going to break loose once she got the suit to Jack!

  ***

  Jack wouldn’t look at Stash on the march back down to the tunnels. Stash’s scarred eyebrow winged upward.

  “You look a bit peeved, mate.”

  “Not only did you wipe out your credit line, but mine, too. Guilt by association,” Jack pointed out.

  “Well, there’s that, but look. There’s money to be made here and I don’t mean by grubbing down in those tubes. There’s dreams and privileges to be bought and sold.”

  “I don’t deal in those.”

  “Neither do I, mate, normally. Look, stick wi’ me and we’ll be fine. Promise. You’ll have your contract bought out in a year’s time.”

  Finding Stash’s hand on his wrist in a pretense of earnestness, Jack stopped. “I don’t need to stick with you, mate, but I have noticed that you seem to stick by me. Now why is that?”

  Stash drew himself back. He brushed his thick black hair out of his face. “Well, now. That’d be hard to say, exactly. Maybe it’s because we’re both the same kind of man.”

  Jack snorted as he turned away and began striding back to the barracks. He had enough time to suit up and get out on shift without being docked.

  “Now look,” Stash called, as he hurried to catch up. “See here. We’re not miners or welders, like that lot. I’m a bit out of fortune right now, but I don’t intend to stay that way.”

  “Not like me.” Jack shook his head. “You’re nothing like me, Stash.”

  “Maybe I’m more like you than you think.” the man returned quietly. Then his bravado overrode him. “We’ll both be back on top, you see, and by this weekend, we’ll have a couple of girls waiting for us in the domes, and you’ll be happy with old Stash for providin’ all the comforts of home.”

  Jack lengthened his stride until the other fell puffing by the wayside. But something Stash had said rankled at him. The drill instructor for the Emperor had repeatedly said, “No suit, no soldier.” But even Stash knew better, instinctively reaching beyond the trappings to the basic core of a man. He was a soldier. He hadn’t had much opportunity to fight lately, but he had an enemy and he was damned if he was going to retreat now.

  He suited up. One of the small transport cars was still on track. He checked its programming. Evidently the shift had gone on ahead and had not needed this extra car. He started it up. Stash shouted, made a lumbering jump and caught it, pulling himself into the last seat. Jack left his com off, not wanting to hear any more pseudo-carefree Aussie chat. Fellow soldier or not, Stash was, in almost any way he could name, thoroughly despicable.

  He tapped in his ID number at the work station computer. It flashed a “Fifteen minute penalty for lateness” at him and settled back to opaque. Jack shrugged. It could have been worse. He stepped over the cables being laid by the cable crew, squinted at the temporary arc lights and went on down the line.

  The small, crumpled deepsuit that was Alfredo Boggs waved to him as he walked onto the job site. Jack flipped on his com lines and went over.

  “Sorry to see you go with him,” Boggs said. “That was a bum rap.”

  Jack laughed. “Life can be a bum rap. Maybe I deserved it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s being hooked up?”

  “A T-joint here, as soon as demo is finished. We’ve got seismo readings that say we should reach a gem deposit in that direction, but the foreman wants to keep options open.”

  “Right. Where do you want me?”

&nb
sp; “Right here next to me. This is a tricky seam—keeps wanting to bulge on me, and you do nice work.”

  Jack nodded. It was a dubious honor. The tunnel was already being pressurized. If the seam blew while either of them were working on it, they might not live to realize what had happened. On the other hand, Boggs was acknowledging he had a deft hand with the welder. He grabbed an iron and lit it up. He paid no attention as Stash trailed in and went to work in another direction.

  “Poor pay for a good day’s work.” Boggs heaved a sigh as he wrenched his helmet off and set it back on a hook. The suit technician stood by, waiting impatiently, as he unsuited.

  Jack helped him shrug out of the heavy garment. “It’s a living some of us have to settle for,” he said.

  Boggs wagged a bony finger at the tech. “See I get a full charge next time! I’m not usin’ the damn thing to walk off this rock in. I don’t want to run out of nothin’ if I’m workin’ a double shift. Comprende?”

  The tech grimaced and threw the suit on a rack. Boggs shook his head. “Nobody cares about nothin’ down here.”

  “Except you.”

  He straightened and gave Jack a hard look. “I’m shift manager. I got to care. Besides… you kids don’t call me Pops for nothing. I’ve twice outlived most of you.”

  Jack kept his expression under control. What would Pops think if he knew Jack was twice as old as he looked, thanks to cold sleep? Probably not much. He doubted if much got by Pops. He peeled off his own suit. Pops might not intend to walk off, but Jack did. He’d noticed that the air supply was kept low and had wondered how he could circumvent that. Pops had just given him a clue.

  He followed the wiry middle-aged man to the showers and the lockers beyond. Water here was more than scarce. He got fifteen seconds of heavy steam to open his pores, a rag to soap with and another rag to wash off with. He’d taken longer showers on his battle cruiser over Milos. But he did feel cleaner. Jack grabbed down a disposable towel and padded toward the lockers.

  He heard Stash’s voice before he rounded the corner. Jack grimaced. Last on the line and first off, that was Stash. He was giving that sly smile of his, baiting the mountain man Fritzi.