THE EUROPA AFFAIR by Richard J. DENISSENThis book is dedicated to Eva Whitley and Jack Chalker, without whom this book would never have been written. Special thanks to my wife Rhi, for putting up with me while writing this, to Laura Gillespie for proofreading the manuscript. And also to my father, who would have understood. 1 A nondescript old man, dressed in tattered dirty rags shuffled aimlessly down the dim alley. In a city of millions hardly anyone passing him by gave him a second glance, instantly categorizing him as one of the city's thousands of unemployable homeless men. He turned down a wide boulevard, seeking out a tall gleaming building and stationed himself against the wall, near to the main entrance and partially out of the cold wind. From deep within a pocket of his ratty overcoat he produced a battered tin cup, the age-old symbol of poverty and settled in to wait patiently in front of the building. As he waited, A large black limo pulled up to the curb in front of the building. A uniformed man stepped out of the ornate front doors and into the cold mid-morning air to open the back door of the large vehicle. "Good Morning, sir," he announced crisply as Mr Kurschner climbed out of the back. Neither man noticed the bright clear blue eyes of the beggar examining them carefully from his vantage point in front of the building. After about two hours the old beggar moved on after collecting more than he had hoped to. A rather productive morning, all in all. With twenty-seven credits jingling in his pockets he found his way through back alleys piled high with rotting garbage. The city kept the main streets clean but sent none of its sanibots back here. If they managed to survive the rats, the human scavengers would get them. There was, after all a thriving market for cybernetic components. He finally arrived at his destination, an old diner that was located on a once chic street, but both the diner and the street had fallen onto hard times. Life and the city had passed them both by and they were now home to only the poorest population. "Afternoon, Jake," said the owner, an older man in a pair of filthy, once white pants and shirt that may have been called a uniform a long time ago. Potbellied, with thin greasy gray hair and a scraggly beard that completed the unsavory look. "Pickin's good today?," he asked after Jake had entered and swung the door closed behind him. Jake nodded a yes and walked back to the back corner of the diner, to the far end of a long counter top and out of direct contact with the cold wind whistling in under the door. "Coffee 'n' grits, he mumbled over toothless gums. "Cold," he added simply. "Money?," asked the proprietor who knew these men far too well to serve them before seeing their money first. Jake reached deep into a pocket and produced a one credit coin, placed it carefully on the counter and jingled the rest in his pocket to assure the owner of more. The owner said nothing but turned to draw coffee and hot water for the grits. "Haven't seen you in a while," he said, sliding the coffee over to Jake. "Nah," he mumbled. "Been away." The owner knew that away most likely meant a stay in one of the city's public hospitals. The government could keep a man healthy but could not keep him employed or properly fed. Often times the only thing wrong with the homeless was acute malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies. He shook his head sadly as he passed the grits over in front of Jake, knowing that the problems were worsening and there seemed to be nothing anyone could or would do about them. Scarcities were showing up everywhere on things that had always been available. Yes, many of the manufactured high tech goods were nearly impossible to find but that was expected. After all, it had always been like that. But necessities? He had had to go to four places before he had found tissue paper. And when he had finally found a shop that had a supply, they had allowed him to purchase only one roll. What was the economy coming to? But at least business was good, if you didn't mind catering to the homeless. There were enough of them to assure a steady stream of paying customers. True they seldom spent much but the totals quickly added up. But what good was money if there was nothing left to spend it on? Or that what was available was junk? "What the hell do I know," he thought to himself. "I'm just a dumb cook." The proprietor said nothing as Jake finished his coffee and grits. He left no tip and he walked slowly toward the door and the outside cold. He mumbled a goodbye as he disappeared out the door and into the dim street. About two blocks away was an old hotel that had been converted into a flop-house for those who had the price of a bed for the night. Here, the man in the cage by the front door knew him as well. "How are you doing today Jake?," he asked. "Are you Ok?" Jake nodded yes, but otherwise said nothing. He turned toward a hallway, careful to keep from tangling his feet in the tatters on the floor that used to be a rug. The proprietor knew him simply as Jake. He had come into his life nearly two years earlier when he had given the manager enough credit for five years rent on the tiny room he called home. He had not explained it, but the proprietor imagined it was the last of his savings after losing his job and was insuring that he always had a place to sleep. Once inside the tiny room, Jake visibly shed ten years as he stood erect and shook the gray hair out of his eyes. He reached into an inside pocket and removed a very well-made dental bridge and slipped it into his mouth. He then looked around his "room" checking if anyone had entered while he had been gone. The room was actually the old elevator car that had stopped moving years before. On the side of the wall was the old control panel. Jake stepped over to it and pressed the buttons marked one and seven together, simultaneously saying "Abe Fortas" into a small, barely visible microphone set in the old panel. Under his feet he felt a slight vibration as a large hydraulic cylinder lowered the old car down to the old parking garage that was located under the building. When the outer door opened he was confronted by two uniformed and armed guards. One held an instrument connected to a terminal inset in the wall near to the elevator. "Please identify yourself, sir," one said. Speaking directly into the instrument, he repeated his name and a green light flashed on the instrument. "Voice print Identity confirmed, sir," he said. "Sorry for the delay." Abe smiled to himself. Every agent who returned during a mission had to go through the same procedure but the guards were always polite. "The briefing meeting is not until 2:30, sir," the second officer said. "If you wish to clean up beforehand, you have time. "No, thank you," Abe said with a twinkle in his eye. "If they don't like me like this then it's just too damned bad. Besides it would take too long to get back into character when I leave." He quickly made his way to the cafeteria and ordered himself a decent hot meal. He often regretted the necessities of the job but knew that this was the only way that the job could be done and done properly. He quickly washed the taste of cheap grits out of his mouth and settled down to enjoy a good meal before his meeting. The conference room held a large oval table capable of seating at least thirty people, although Abe had never seen it used by more than three or four persons at once. He arrived a little late, on purpose, to give those waiting for him the feel that he, and not they controlled the meeting. Inside he found his briefing officer and the Director of this branch of the Agency. He sat in one of the comfortably ornate chairs, unconcerned that the chair would probably have to be completely cleaned after he left. "What have you discovered so far?," the Director asked, coming directly to the point. "I have visually identified him," answered Abe. "Are you sure that he is the one we want?" "Positive. He came up high on our list of suspects and we assigned a satcam to watch his actions," he assured Abe. "We have positive photographic evidence of him committing three murders in the last two weeks. "Damn," said Abe. "I was hoping that you were wrong. He seems to be an exemplary citizen." "One would think so, wouldn't you?," agreed the briefing officer. "We have however uncovered evidence of tampering by him on the gold market, causing the price to fluctuate. He then takes advantage of the fluctuations to buy all of the available gold he can. In the last year alone it is estimated that he made a billion credits." "He is, of course," continued the Director, "speculating with his bank's money but he has managed to skim off an impressive amount nonetheless. And this is but one sphere of influence. There are indications of many other schemes in operation." "Do you want me to take him out permanently, or just ice him?" asked Abe in a subdued voice. This was the part of the job that he least liked. "Ice him," came the quick response from the Director. "The government wants to make an example of him but they lack the hard evidence." "And a satcam is not admissible in court," chimed in the briefing officer. "Violation of privacy and all that," he said. "So what next?," Asked Abe. "It's up to you to manufacture the necessary evidence. We can deliver an itinerary of places he goes to when he will have no alibi," said the Director. "And the rest is up to you." "You will be contacted via your implant as to when the operation is a go. Do not move until you here from us to insure he has no alibi." "I understand," said Abe. "Do you have a victim in mind yet?" "No," admitted the briefing officer sadly. "We thought that since you know the homeless better than we do, you would be in a better position to pick one." "Damn," thought Abe. "They're going to pile all the shit on me, this time." "Question," he said tersely. "Go ahead," said the Director. "Will the victim's family be able to collect from his estate?," Abe asked simply. "Once we have him in custody," said the briefing officer, "and have direct evidence that will stand up in court, we will be able to get everything from him about the other crimes. The agency has already agreed to sue for full victim compensation, as the law allows." "You still haven't answered my question," said Abe bluntly. "Yes," agreed the Director. "Once he is proven guilty of one crime, then he has automatically forfeited his rights of privacy. We can use any and all means to remove whatever information we need from him." Abe knew that they primarily meant the various forms of chemical persuasion. It had been proven long ago that physical torture was meaningless and today they had many other techniques that worked including hypnosis and drug treatments. "The man is a psychopath," blurted the briefing officer. "And he enjoys killing. We must use whatever means we have to to get him off of the streets." "No," disagreed the Director. "He is far too smart to be psychopathic. He is driven by other reasons. And it is his very intelligence that forces us to fabricate evidence to nail him." He stopped to examine both Abe and the briefing officer before continuing. "We would have caught a psychopath by now!" he finally stated. "And that," thought Abe, "Is the crux of the problem. The man was credited with thirty or forty murders so far, although the total number would not be known until he was in custody. Most of the homeless that turned up dead were simply cremated. It was not until a pattern started to emerge that autopsies were performed on all of the homeless that were found dead." The authorities had been amazed at how many had died of unnatural causes once they began looking into the deaths. At first they thought that they were dealing with more than one killer but soon concluded that they should be looking for one man. The one lone survivor to date had been nearly no help at all. He could remember only that the man was reasonably tall, had been dressed in black clothing, and that he had been wearing a security screen. The screen, formed by a powerful generator mounted in a skullcap helmet kept the police from obtaining a positive retina print, which would have assured a positive identification that would have stood up in court. "You will drop the 'Jake' persona for now," cut in the briefing officer, "and then switch to Jonathan Burke. You will use this persona during the nightstalking operation. When you get cleaned up you will please report to the lab where you will receive your equipment," he continued. "You will be issued a screen generator similar to the one used by Kurschner, contacts with his retina prints on them, a complete set of black clothing and suitable ID cards, all in the name of Kurschner. As usual, all of the ID's are good enough to stand a comp scan, even to the point of accessing his funds. You will use the card after the onset of the operation but no more than thirty minutes later or more than five kilometers away from the operative point. "All standard," thought Abe. "I could have predicted the details of this operation as soon as I knew what they had in mind." He heaved a mental sigh of relief. At least it will be fast and then done. With luck it won't be too dirty, and I may not need a memory dump afterwards." He returned his attention to the briefing just as the officer asked if he had any questions. "Just one," he announced, surprising both of them. He had earned a reputation over the years of never asking for or needing additional information. "When all of this shit is over, I am putting in for a vacation. Any objections?" He didn't wait for either of them to object but quickly continued. "Good, I thought not. Is that all there is gentlemen?" He did not wait for a dismissal but stood and left the large conference room. One more of his weapons in making them think he was in control and not them. He had developed many psychological games he played with them over the years. It helped keep him sane, but he was not sure what they got out of it. Probably nothing but aggravation. He had no trouble finding his way to the lab, having worked here so long he probably knew the layout better than the people who actually worked inside and not out on the streets like he did. Once there he picked up his equipment, noticing a pair of perfectly balanced throwing knives. "Shit," he thought. "It's gonna be dirtier than I thought." He reached for the pair, Wishing he had listened better at the briefing concerning the operations weapons when he was stopped by an exclamation from one of the technicians. "Hold it," the voice ordered. Abe turned to face the man. "Do you know who I am?," he asked bruskly. "Sure," came the quick reply. "But I thought I should warn you that there is a very quick-acting poison on the blades of those knives. If you touch them and then pass the poison to your mouth, you are a dead man. But other than that, help yourself." Abe apologized to the young man and backed away from the table. "Look," he said. "I am not usually this short with people. But today might turn to be a bad day and I guess I am taking it out on the wrong person." "I understand," came the cheerful reply. "I have no idea what this is all about and I do not want to know, but I do have to show you everything here," he explained. He reached over and picked up one of the knives. "These are not that hard to handle, I just wanted you to know so you would take the proper precautions." He handed Abe the knife, allowing him to examine it closer. He then looked over the assortment of equipment on the table and first picked up the security screen. "This is an exact copy of the one that the suspect owns, with one main difference. If a laser hits it, the screen will fail, allowing the camera to photograph your retina pattern." He handed the screen to Abe. One question. These things are supposed to be perfect. Won't it's failure be suspect?," he asked. Suspect yes, but it is not an impossible failure. There have been two cases of this particular model breaking down exactly as this one will. Unusual but not unheard of." He turned back to the table and picked up a small foam case. "Contacts with his retina prints embossed on them." They disappeared into a side pocket before the young man continued. Next came a standard ID card. "This card will access his personal accounts. You are to use it within five kilometers of the scene and within thirty minutes of the successful completion of the operation. I recommend that you buy a new security screen, since the one that you have is going to fail." He then passed Abe a set of black clothing. "The type that he always wears while hunting," came the short explanation. "The last thing that I have to do is test your com implant." He walked over to a comstation and entered a code on the keyboard. Abe heard the familiar metallic voice in his head, directly behind his left ear. "It's working ok, " he announced to the satisfaction of the technician. "Then that is all that I have for you," he said. "Good Luck, sir," he added sincerely." "Thanks, I'll probably need it," he said to the young man before stepping back out into the corridor. He turned towards his in-house quarters and the fresher that was there waiting for him, and he was looking forward to getting cleaned up, since the Jake personna really bothered him. On his way there he passed the briefing officer. "Just so that you know sir," he said as he passed. "The real Jake has been returned to his room," he reported. Abe said nothing as they passed but nodded in reply. That was one thing less he had to worry about. Although he did not like the role he had to admit that the old indigent was a very useful disguise. Once back at his quarters Abe stripped off the dirty rags and placed them in a plastic bag to be laundered, deloused and resoiled for the next time he needed them. He then stepped into the fresher for a long leisurely hot shower. "The longer you go without bathing," he thought, "the more that you appreciate it when you finally get the chance." Later that evening, he returned to the cafeteria to eat a leisurely meal, not knowing when he might get another chance to do so. He then returned to his rooms where he dressed himself and distributed his equipment about his person. The two knives attached under his left arm in a dual sheath that facilitated ease of draw. The half helmet that the security shield was built into went atop his head. "An expensive toy," thought Abe. Powerful fields acted to distort the laser light used by the high-intensity security cameras designed to photograph retina prints. They were not very big but they really didn't need to be since only a slight distortion rendered the photographs useless. He popped his contacts in and then slipped the ID's into his wallet after emptying it of all other ID. The night lay undisturbed beneath a darkening moon as dark figures slipped into position through the carefully landscaped estates surrounding Dr. Quade's home. A limousine drifted silently to a stop at the foot of the long tree-lined driveway. The two officers sat in the back seat and watched the operation unfold with silent satisfaction. The junior of the two, Lieutenant Hadley briefly checked a miniature wrist video display before reporting. "Sir, all men have reported in and are in position." The senior officer nodded a quick acknowledgement before entering his access code on his own wrist terminal. "Major Caine here control," he said tersely. "Standing by, sir" came the quick answer. "We are now ready to penetrate the house defenses. Have you reestablished contact with Dr. Quade's security comp?" "Yes sir. The comp will allow you access, though we may not be able to maintain control. We recommend comp disconnection at your earliest convenience." "Recommendations noted control. I will keep you informed as the situation changes." Major Caine terminated the comlink and turned to Lieutenant Hadley. "You may now send in the penetration team. Make comp disconnect your number one priority." The Lieutenant spoke briefly into his own wrist comp and outside, barely visible from the foot of the driveway, three dark figures detached themselves from the shadows in front of the house. They quickly crossed the wide porch, slowed slightly at the front door and entered the house. Dark panelling set off the muted hues of the oriental rug on the floor of the foyer. Exquisite Japanese statuary, set into niches in the back wall disappeared upward in the curve of the stairwell. Two of the men took up positions in the foyer while the third slipped quietly into the interior of the house. He headed unerringly for the main library and the house comp, making good use of the hours of briefings and study of the house plans. Expert fingers danced over the keyboard, shutting the sophisticated machine down. Outside in the limo, Major Caine's wrist comp made one low bleat before he acknowledged the call. "Go ahead control," he said. "Problem, sir," said the unseen voice. "Dr. Quade's comp had a disconnect alarm on it and a call has gone out to the local police precinct station. A heavy cruiser has been diverted to your location." "Thank you, control. We will handle it here." "Yes sir. Control out. Major Caine shook his head sadly as he removed a thin sheaf of papers from his briefcase. He stepped out of the limo with a brief word to Lieutenant Hadley. "Keep the team in the foyer, I will be back shortly." Lieutenant Hadley resisted the urge to scratch a nervous itch on the back of his neck as he peered out through the windshield of the limo, wishing for the return of Major Caine. He let his eyes dart to the side every now and then, checking on Dr. Quade's house, but always returning his attention back to the dark street. "Everything could still go wrong" he thought. They had prepared for a hundred different scenarios but when dealing with a man as brilliant as Dr. Quade, there could be dozens of unforseen possibilities. And who would have thought that Dr. Quade's security comp could resist Internal Security's comp for three days? Their machine, one of the most sophisticated systems in existence should have been able to override any home security system in a matter of microseconds. Yet they had not been able to get an override signal in. They finally did get in but by a rather circuitous route. They had managed to get the comp to accept the three names and retina prints of their men and then convinced it that they should be admitted it the house as staff members. It would be a pity if the main program had been erased when the comp had been shut down. That small machine could do things that no home comp should be able to do. Armstrong station lay far behind the small orbital sled as it coasted silently through the depths of space. A full moon could be seen traversing behind the slowly spinning station, briefly silouetting its long spokes and wheels. The sled's pilot, Joe Francelli relaxed in the small bubble and allowed the onboard computer to control the flight. He always enjoyed the interstation runs because they allowed him time to himself and away from all of his co-workers. The computer had dropped the sled down into a lower and faster orbit in order to catch up to the Shepherd, lying ahead of the Armstrong in the same orbit. The three big stations, the Shepherd, Gagarin and the Armstrong were equidistantly spaced around the big geosynch circle and Joe knew that he was lucky to have gotten an assignment on the Armstrong, the youngest of the three stations. All of the managerial responsibilities for the Martian and Asteroid colonies were handled there and the Armstrong was the station that received the three big cargo ships from Mars. Every fifteen months the ships arrived with thousands of tons of metals and minerals to be off-loaded and sent on to their final destinations. As a result he was amassing an impressive number of hours in his pilot's log book. The other two smaller stations required far fewer pilots and all of the new pilots were assigned to them, while the Armstrong drew off the most experienced men to fill her own vacancies. The Shepherd was in charge of administering the Lunar mines and lately the newly developed Mercury outposts. The Gagarin, the oldest of the three, was in charge of all other Lunar operations and any new construction in geosynch orbit. The computer had shed about half of the sled's orbital velocity, dropping it down into a much lower and faster orbit. If Joe had not been in such a hurry he would have chosen a higher orbit, but not today. In about five hours a transport was leaving the Shepherd, taking passengers down to Leo base. Once at Leo he would catch an atmospheric shuttle down to the Australian shuttle base. This was to be the first vacation he had been able to take in over two years and he planned on enjoying the next thirty days completely. Finally the sled's engine fired, waking Joe from his nap and lifting the sled back to match the geosynch position of the Shepherd. Joe saw the twin wheels first outlined by the lights showing through the exterior window ports and then, when closer by reflected light from Earth and the Moon. Joe took control of the sled as he came within range of the station. He, like most pilots did not trust the small computer's ability to dock with the landing deck of the station. The landing platform itself was a large circular deck painted with concentric circles so that it resembled a bulls-eye on a target. Joe set the sled down as close to the center as possible, after arming the strong electromagnets attached to the landing skids. When the landing skids touched the deck, the electromagnets automatically engaged, insuring that the sled stayed where it was supposed to. Four handlers then popped up through a nearby access hatch to assist in moving the sled. When they each had a firm grip on the sled body, Joe released the magnets, allowing the four men to lift the sled and move it outward toward the rim of the deck. There it was nested into a group of similar sleds and Joe reactivated the electromagnets. One of the four handlers assisted Joe out of the vehicle while the other three disappeared back down into the station. The large landing decks, located at each end of the central hub, were kept at zero-gee by large driving motors that counter-revolved the deck. Standing at the edge of the platform, Joe could watch the two large wheels slowly turn, making the center hub truly look like an axle around which the entire station revolved. Joe cleared the airlock and then removed his space-suit. He carefully folded it and then packed it into a large flight bag. Most of the personnel who worked in hard vacuum, once having accumulated enough credit, had a personal suit tailored to their body. A lot of time was spent in the suit and most accepted the high cost of this comfort gratefully. He also knew that the mass of the suit would count against his personal weight allowance if he carried it to Earth with him. He therefore planned on renting a small storage locker at Leo base to store it in while he was on vacation. The landing deck that he had set down on was set aside for the orbital sleds while the other deck, located at the far end of the hub was reserved for the larger passenger transports. Most personnel were restricted to the passenger decks but a few, like Joe who held an orbital pilots license, had a little more freedom. His license gave him the ability to catch the transports from all stations instead of waiting the few days for the next one out of Armstrong. Although he was allowed to transfer among the three big geosynch stations, without a priority pass he was not allowed to take a sled down to Leo base. And a priority pass for personal use was nearly impossible to get. Leo base was far too small and had no room for extra sleds that it did not need. He waved briefly to the deck officer as he passed the control booth heading for the center of the hub and the transfer tube. Since the center of the rotating station was in zero-gee the transfer tube was used for access to and from the landing deck. To transfer, Joe simply entered the center of the tube and grabbed the handgrips on the inner rotating surface. Once he was turning with the rest of the station he deftly flipped through one of the hatches and into the station proper. This close to the center of the station, gravity was still negligible but would rapidly increase as he moved farther away from the center of the station. Here were located the elevators that ran through the long spokes and out to the wheels. If he had arrived earlier he could have caught a lift down a spoke to one of the wheels where there were a few good restaurants. However since the shuttle departure time was near he preferred to go directly to the waiting lounge at the far end of the central hub. Although the shuttle departure was less than an hour away he was one of the first passengers to arrive. The boarding clerk assigned him one of the better seats which assured him of a good view when the transport left. Joe had only a short wait before the passenger lounge began to fill and the boarding light came on. The clerk, assisted by the transport crew quickly and efficiently hustled all of the passengers onboard, seating them all and the transport was soon ready for departure. This vehicle, although a close relative of the orbital sled looked quite different. The passenger compartment was a long tube with seats. At one end lay the pilot's compartment and two engines were strapped on at the back of the framework. Fuel bladders were attached on top so that they would not interfere with the landing skids. Two small impulse jets were attached near the magnetic holddowns. These jets were used to push the transport out and away from the station. A small sealed compartment lay in the back for any and all personal gear. The departure from the station was uneventful and nearly unnoticeable. The first time that Joe was sure it was underway was when the main engines fired. Joe relaxed in his seat, trying to grab a short nap while around him the other passengers began to make new acquaintances and the buzz of voices increased. The transport dropped rapidly and accurately down toward Leo base. A small station, it would be dwarfed by Gagarin, the smallest of the three big geosynch stations. As the transport approached Leo, Joe began to see the details of it. Leo was backlit and first showed up in silouette against the blue©green Earth. As the transport got closer to Leo, she suddenly broke out of shadow and crossed slowly into the direct sunlight. First a portion of the outer wheel lit brightly to contrast sharply with the shaded spokes and hub. Joe watched as the shadows crawled quickly away from the light, down the spokes to the central hub and around the wheel. In less than a minute it was over, the station wheeling and glinting in the bright sunlight. As the transport maneuvered around the station to match with a vacant shuttle lock Joe saw one of the big surface shuttles. The deeply swept wings and big jet engine nacelles looking strangely out of place here in space and out of the atmosphere where it was designed to operate. The docking procedure went smoothly and was problem free. In almost no time at all Joe was out of the transport and on his way, having stopped briefly to reclaim has space suit. There were lockers available here for the long-term storage of personal items. Most frequent visitors preferred to keep a locker rented to keep clothing and personal items in. The cost of lifting luggage, pound for pound was far more expensive than a passenger ticket. Joe, who lived in space and rarely returned to Earth rented a short-term locker for the duration of his trip away from Leo. In it he placed his bulky suit bag. It was all he had brought with him because he knew that it would be far cheaper to buy all that he needed once he arrived on Earth. But then he could easily afford anything that he wanted. It had been over two years since his last vacation. On Shepherd, room and board were supplied free of charge as part of the job, and there was little else that he really needed to spend his salary on. Most pilots found that if they were frugal, they could easily accumulate enough credit to retire very comfortably in ten to fifteen years. After he had stored his suit he stopped briefly at a wall terminal to check the shuttle status. He saw that he had a guaranteed seat in the first class section and that the shuttle was due to leave in just over two hours. "Plenty of time," he thought. He had heard of a small restaurant near the shuttle port that had come very highly recommended. The food was excellent, expensive, and all of it was imported from Earth. None of the processed algae paste that was served by most of the cheaper restaurants. There were similar restaurants on the Armstrong but there the prices were even higher. He usually stayed away from them but today, on the first day of his vacation he decided to splurge. The restaurant was small, it's few tables were set up behind screens and plants to insure maximum privacy for its clientele. It was decorated in soft greens and browns with lots of intricately carved wood. Joe knew that none of it was real wood. But knowing that it was synthesized did not detract from the illusion. It would take a detailed chemical analysis to prove that it was not real. Dark red velvety upholstery and a white lace tablecloth increased the feel of expensive opulence. Fine china, crystal and real silver completed the setting with points of light reflecting from a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging over his table. Dinner was pheasant ala perigeux counterpointed by a fine white Arbois-vin-jaune followed by apricot genoise and chamboreau coffee. A fine French gourmet meal, the finest since he had left his native Italy. "And," he thought with a smile, better than anything that he had expected to find off of Earth. Joe finally arrived at the shuttle lock about thirty minutes before it was due to leave. He quickly found his seat and had plenty of time to settle in comfortably before small jets fired and the big shuttle drifted slowly away from the station. Her main retro's fired, slowing the shuttle down even more and starting her on the long drop toward the atmosphere and Australia waiting below. Her speed was still quite high when Joe heard and felt the first whispers of air. The pilot skillfully kept the shuttle in a shallow glide path while it lost speed, and the temperature of the outer skin dropped to a level that allowed the shuttle to descend to where it's jet engines would work. Finally, under power, the shuttle quickly winged down to the big shuttle base in northern Australia. From there atmospheric fliers would be available for travel to all the points of the Globe. Major Caine left the darkened limousine behind him as he walked quickly down the street. He did not want the big cruiser disturbing the quiet by Dr. Quade's house or attract the attention of his neighbors. He didn't have a long wait before he heard the whine of the turbines and saw the cluster lights of the heavy cruiser. Caine stepped out into the street, a streetlight throwing wnough light so that he would be easily seen by the cruiser. As the massive machine slowed to a stop, he did not fail to notice that the forward weapons turret maintained a steady aim on him. From experience he knew that the turret contained not only sophisticated weaponry but one of the cruisers audio and video packages as well. There were no apparent windows but Major Caine knew that three officers normally operated the machine, although in an emergency it could be fully operated by two. It sat solidly on six tires, the rear four were independently powered by gas-turbine engines. It was also capable of short hops on surface effect by firing directable jump jets. All in all it was a very powerful machine. A speaker crackled to life on top of the cruiser. "Please state your business," a voice said curtly. "Officer, we initiated comp shutdown in Dr. Quade's house," Major Caine explained. "I believe that these papers will answer all of your questions." He reached into his jacket pocket and removed the small sheaf of papers and stepped closer to the machine. A small port irised open, revealing a small box inset into the side of the machine. "Place the papers in the entry port and step back," the unseen voice continued. Major Caine complied with the request, watching silently as the port irised shut. Inside the machine the officer removed the papers, quickly scanning them. They were the arrest and search warrants for Dr. Quade. All of the authenticating seals and signatures were in order, including the one telling him that it was an Internal Security operation. He quickly photocopied the papers and squirted a fax to his headquarters before returning them to Major Caine. "All in order sir, sorry for the delay." There was a touch of respect in the unseen voice now that the officer knew who he was dealing with. Major Caine retrieved the papers before retreating to the sidewalk as the cruiser, turbines whining softly, accelerated into the night. He smiled when he saw that the rear turret continued to track him as the cruiser left. Lieutenant Hadley's thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of his superior. He mentally heaved a sigh of relief before stepping out of the limo to meet him on the sidewalk. Together they walked up the long driveway, crossed the wide porch and entered the house. Major Caine eyed the artwork appreciably as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, followed closely by the penetration team. A cross corridor lay at the top of the stairs with rooms opening onto it. Another set of stairs rose upward to the third floor. Richly framed paintings were hung in the hall, a few of which Major Caine recognized as expensive Old Masters. They left the second floor landing and went directly to the room that Dr Quade used as his bedroom. Against one wall sat a large desk, piled high with papers and a remote comp terminal. Another wall was taken up by a large bookshelf filled with research and reference books along with engineering, physics and chemistry texts. In the far corner stood a large bed containing the sleeping Dr. Quade. "Wake him," ordered the major. Dr. Quade was rudely shaken awake and allowed to briefly collect his wits before Major Caine spoke. "Dr. Quade, I am with Internal Security. You are under arrest for treason, sedition and sabotage." They watched him carefully as he dressed, one of the team checked each article of clothing before he was allowed to put it on. They then escorted him out of the house, reactivating the security comp before securing the door. Dr. Quade was led to an unmarked van and placed in the back for the short ride to the security offices. "Lieutenant," said Major Caine, as they watched the van pull away. "I want you to get the copies of the tapes that the police made tonight. Have them on my desk as soon as you locate them. You may now dismiss your men," he continued. "And tell them all 'very good'." Lieutenant Hadley watched Major Caine return to his limo before sending the dismissal signal. "It isn't often that Major Caine gave compliments," he thought, smiling to himself as the black limo sped off behind him into the darkness. 2 The big shuttle soon landed on the Australian runway, the aircraft taking about two thirds of the miles long ribbon to come to a complete stop. When at last the shuttle arrived at the terminal Joe had no trouble clearing security as his ID pack was in order, having all of the proper counterstamps affixed back at Armstrong station. After clearing Customs he again found a wall comp and inserted his ID card, checking the rest of his itinerary. A stratohop leaving tomorrow would take him into Singapore for the first leg of his vacation. Until the hop left the next day he was booked into the old Imperial Hotel in Broome. One of the few structures predating the huge airbase, it could trace it's roots back over one hundred years. When the runways were built the old hotel had been renovated and automated up to the modern standards of a luxury hotel and only recently it had received it's fifth star for both the restaurant and hotel. The front of the building was made of a red sandstone that was carved into columns and bas-relief panels. Real stonework that lent itself to the aged decadence of a bygone era. The original hotel had been greatly expanded during the renovation and the designers had skillfully melded the old and new together until the old stone seemed to merge and subtly blend into the plascrete and steel of the newer structure. Inside the doors Joe walked across a lobby floor that was a polished marble mosaic, surrounded by walls of a dark, tightly striated paneling. The ceiling rose twenty five feet above the floor from which were hung huge chandeliers. The registration desk was a single huge piece of beautifully carved marble set between two of the sixteen massive columns that seemed large enough to support the weight of the entire structure. Joe had set this trip up months ago and had seen to it that he had one of the larger suites in the old structure. Although it had not been fully automated like the newer structure he preferred the charm of the old rooms even though they lacked some of the more modern features. For one, he was limited to what room service could deliver instead of the full services of the gourmet kitchen. Although all food came from the same kitchen, there were many fine creations that had to be eaten within a few minutes to retain the subtle flavor distinctions or the fragile construction of the dish. As a result, more than half of the creations that the restaurant was famed for could not be brought up by room service but had to be delivered by the fast delivery system incorporated in the newer part of the hotel. Joe however did not mind. After two years in space living on processed algae paste, anything real would taste good. And he had never been a true connoisseur of fine food. Besides, he would be leaving in the morning for Singapore where he planned on trying the best of the best. He could finally afford to do so and he was planning on taking full advantage of the opportunity. After being escorted to his suite he called up the hotel's buying service on the vid and soon had new clothing, luggage and the other necessary sundries to make the vacation more pleasant. The first thing that Joe noticed was that styles had drastically changed in the two years he had been gone. One of his new formal outfits consisted of a pair of durable but stylish calf-length boots, a mid-thigh length skirt and a flowing cape that covered his shoulders and back. There was no shirt but he did have a wide-brimmed hat that matched the boots. A light cotton undergarment under the skirt completed the set. Although he felt foolish, he had to admit that it was extremely comfortable in the heat of northern Australian sun. He found his way into the plush bar noticing that the other guests of the hotel were dressed in similar outfits. The only real differences were color, cut and length. But it did seem that this season skirts were in for both sexes. Casual styles however were borrowed from all cultures and were left up to the individual for preferences. "May I sit down?" a voice asked. Joe had ordered a drink at the bar and accessed a televisor built into the top of his table. He had tuned it into one of the international news stations to reacquaint himself with local happenings while he had been gone. Armstrong boasted of a complete up-to-date news service but Joe, like the other pilots had found little spare time to stay up with the happenings on Earth. He drew his attention away from the screen and looked up to see a stunning young woman standing next to his table. She was a small girl, black hair and a light, almost elfin facial structure which seemed to be a blend of European and Oriental. She spoke a clear, formal English with only a slight overture of an accent. "I saw you register," she said. "You were wearing an Armstrong coverall. Do you work up there?" "Yes," said Joe, jumping quickly to his feet to offer her a chair. "I am an orbital pilot." "Have you been gone long?" she asked with a coy smile, her eyes widening with respect. "Over two years," Joe said, unable to draw his eyes away from her. "Do you live here in Broome?" She had gotten the best of Joe's curiosity and he almost expected her to turn out to be a play-for-pay girl after the way that she had introduced herself. "Me?" She said quickly, her cheeks reddening slightly when she realized the meaning of Joe's question. "No, I flew in from Singapore to pick up a delivery that came down on the shuttle. Pharmaceutical products from one of the orbital synthesis plants." "Then you are a doctor?" "No," she said. "But I am connected to one of the larger research hospitals on the Malaysian peninsula" "That's where I am going in the morning. To Singapore that is. On the first stratohop of the day." "That's the hop I am on," she said excitedly. "We will be fellow travelers, it seems!" She stopped speaking to order from the autobar. "If she has had a few of those," thought Joe, "she lost all of her inhibitions long ago." "Have you eaten yet?" he asked aloud. "No, not since lunch," she replied with a giggle. Buy a girl dinner?" "Sure, let's go, he said, rising to his feet and offering her his arm. He wondered about the effects of the alcohol acting on her empty stomach and privately thought that this night might turn out to be more interesting than he had earlier hoped. A discordant alarm chimed for attention at a disgustingly early hour. "God, what the hell is that?" asked Amiru groggily. "Alarm," answered Joe. "It's six A. M. and the hop leaves in three hours," Joe finished, his voice sounding stronger than he felt. "You want to shower first?" "Ok, maybe it will help my headache," she said, swinging her legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. "God, that's not all that hurts, you animal. Aren't there any women on the Armstrong?" "Yes," he said with a smile, "But none like you." She looked at him amusingly. "Flattery will get you nowhere. At least not till I recover from last night," she said with a smile. Joe watched her walk sinuously across to the shower cubicle. He lay back down on the big bed, trying to catch a few more minutes of rest. Before long they were both dressed and on their way down to breakfast. They both opted for a simple but satisfying meal and then caught a cab back to the big shuttleport. The port did double duty as an airport and shuttle base, the atmospheric fliers using the same long runways that the shuttles did. The stratojet dropped down toward the Malaysian island that was covered by the city of Singapore. Joe and Amiru sat side by side in the first class section. The older gentleman that had originally occupied the seat next to Joe had not minded swapping seats with Amiru and she had kept Joe talking about his experiences in space. As a result Joe had found out very little about her as she had skillfully kept him talking during the entire trip. "I'll be staying at the New Raffles," said Joe, once the jet had landed. Where can I find you?" He asked, allowing her a graceful exit if she desired one. "I really don't have to be back for a few days yet. Would you like a little company?" She asked with a sexy pout, batting her eyelashes at him. "Recovered from last night?" asked Joe with a nod and a grin. "Yes, I'd love for you to stay. You won't get into trouble, will you?" "Oh no. But I will have to make a call from the Raffles. Besides, I can show you around our city if you like." "It's a deal then. But first let's get over to the New Raffles." They found a row of taxis waiting just outside the large set of glass and chrome steel doors. Their luggage was loaded into the first cab and they were soon out of the stratoport's vehicle bay and on their way to the hotel. They passed through the city, down straight boulevards flanked by tall, immaculately clean and gleaming buildings and over to the far side of the island where the New Raffles lay. The hotel was itself not an imposing structure nor was it particularly large. It was a wide three floor white stone building showing a lot of glass. It's grounds were tastefully planted with large palm trees and a myriad of other smaller colorful tropical plants. Walkways wound through the gardens and benches were set back off the path in the shade of the tall palms. The New Raffles could trace its roots back to the beginnings of Singapore. Although the original hotel was built many years after the founding of the city it prided itself on its fine British traditions. The original Raffles had become 'THE' hotel to stay at while in Singapore. In 2011 a tsunami, generated by an undersea volcanic explosion swept ashore all along the Malaysian coastline causing billions of credits of damage and unnumbered thousands of lost lives. The city of Singapore had been all but destroyed. The owners of the Raffles had elected to rebuild on the same site and to recreate the old hotel as exactly as possible. They had also acquired some of the surrounding real estate and they used it to create their famed gardens. Today the shaded walkways and gardens were nearly as famous as the hotel. The old Apollo hotel had never been rebuilt but later a much larger and more modern structure had finally been built on the site. The famed esplanade had been rebuilt but it too had been redesigned. Singapore had always prided itself on being the cleanest city in the world and had looked on the tsunami as instant urban renewal. The city that emerged from the aftermath of the tsunami had become the sparkling jewel of the Orients eye. Once at the New Raffles the pair were met by uniformed men and escorted into the hotel. The uniforms recalled a bygone day of British imperial splendor. British colonialism had all but died in the mid-twentieth century but here the rich colonial traditions were carried out as if Britain still ruled the island and the world. A bellboy, wearing the livery of a footman of the house of Queen Victoria led them to one of the largest suites in the hotel. Out through their wide windows they had a beautiful view of the carefully manicured lawns and gardens of the hotel. The room itself was stunning. The sitting room was decorated with reproduction Victorian furniture. A small chandelier was set over a sunken lounge in the center of the room. A well stocked bar lay against a wall. A door set near the bar led into the bedroom where the decorators had continued the Victorian motif and included a huge four poster bed. Another door opened into a large bathroom-dressing room and the whirlpool bath they found there looked big enough for any six adults. Another door brought them full circle back into the main room. "What do you think?" asked Joe finally, once the grand tour was completed. "It's nice, but I want to try out the bath." She didn't wait for an answer but immediately began to remove her clothing. It quickly turned into a sexy striptease that ended when the couple were neck deep in hot soapy water. About an hour later they ordered up dinner from room service and soon were enjoying a quiet, intimate dinner. "Have you ever made love in a bath tub before?" Amiru asked coyly between mouthfulls. "Uh, no," said Joe with a blush. "That was the first time." Amiru smiled demurely before continuing. "Looks like I have a lot to teach you then. Your technique is fine but you really need to become a little more adventuresome." Joe's blush increased as he sputtered over his half-sipped glass of champagne, nearly spraying her with the sweet liquor. "Are all women as forward as you are?" He asked her once he had regained some of his composure. "No, not all. But it's getting to be more and more commonplace. And just what's wrong with it anyway?" She said passionately. "Women enjoy sex too you know. Why shouldn't a woman take the first steps if she wants to?" "Well, I guess it's okay. In fact it's nice, but I was raised in a strict religious household and it will take a little getting used to. But please don't stop," Joe said quickly. "Ill get used to it, I promise." "I'm sure that you will," she said in a low, husky voice. "You're going to be the death of me yet, woman. Get dressed please, I would still like to see some of the sights of Singapore before it gets too late, if you don't mind." "What did you have in mind?" she asked. "How about a dance club? Besides, if we stay here you are likely to rape me again." "Rape?" Amiru said with a squeal. "Rape? HA! Rape implies force and the last thing that I need to do is force you. She stood, sensuously writhing as she did so, allowing the towel she was wearing to slip to the floor. "This is all the force I need," she said softly. Joe threw a celery stick at her and chased her into the bedroom, watching from the bed in appreciation as she dressed for the evening. Once downstairs they found a taxi and soon were on their way, Amiru giving directions in what sounded like Chinese. Singapore boasts of a number of very fine nightclubs and dance clubs, a few of which actually had live bands. The age of computerization had hit the music industry harder than most. Today a single man with a synthecomp could sound as good, if not better than the great symphony orchestras of the last century. True afficionados claimed to be able to tell the difference and there were still a few large groups left but they were maintained mostly as cultural exhibits of an era long past. Joe directed Amiru to pick one with a synthecomp because he preferred the full spectrum of music to the limited repertoire of a live band. The club that Amiru chose was located in the top floors of the Zeus, the new hotel that had been built on the old Apollo site. The club itself was perched on top of the hotel, a huge round structure that slowly revolved, allowing a full panoramic view of the beautiful city at night. The interior of the club was a dazzling array of stainless steel and transparent plas. The bottom floor of the club was solid, with the synthecomp in the center, surrounded by the dance floor. Around that ran a single row of booths backed up against the outer plas wall. The second floor was actually a circular balcony with two rows of booths. The inside row overlooked the dance floor while the outer was, like the lower tier, backed up against the outer wall. The roof was a single solid sheet of plas that afforded a breathtaking view of the night sky. They were escorted to an inner booth on the balcony, overlooking the dance floor. "Do you see that couple over there?" asked Amiru, indicating a well dressed couple seated at a table fronting the dance floor. Joe and Amiru were out on the dance floor enjoying a slow waltz that had brought them out toward the row of booths. "Yes," said Joe. "Do you know them?" "Well, sort of," she replied. "They are Merilka and Fredoro. He's the finance minister of the city." "Is she his wife?" Joe asked. "No. He's not married and she is just a good friend," Amiru continued. "Although I am sure that she would just love to catch him with a ring. But then so would about two dozen other women that I know of. He is considered the city's most eligible bachelor and has no immediate plans to change that status," she said with a grin. "I see," said Joe in a low, conspiratorial voice. "Who else do you know here?" he continued. "Not many, personally. Oh, most of the regular crowd here I know by sight or by reputation but I don't try to cultivate many friends from among these people." "Why?" asked Joe. "Do you feel that you don't fit in?" "Something like that," she said. "Here in Singapore there is a definite line drawn between the rich and the poor. The well-off try to copy the life style of the truly rich but they are never really accepted into the upper-class structure," she continued. "It soon becomes a lot of meaningless posturing, if you know what I mean." "I see," said Joe. "Then what you are saying is that you were born on the wrong side of the line?" "Yes," she said in an enigmatic voice that Joe could not read. "They all know me and know exactly the differences between us. If you cannot truly be one of the upper class it makes trying to do so seem so futile." Joe sensed he was close to forbidden territory but chose to continue anyway. "But it can't be a rigid structure, can it? Is there no way for someone to join the upper class?" "Oh yes," she answered quickly. "You could marry into wealth or you can earn your own fortune. Most of the middle class are not accepted simply because they cannot truly maintain the lifestyle of the rich. They put on a good show but it's only the facade, not the whole production." "All the glitter but none of the gold?" Joe asked. "Yes, exactly, she answered tersely, putting a stop to the conversation. Let's get out of here, this place is beginning to depress me. She stood, allowing Joe to escort her over to the exit. "I'm getting hungry," she announced. "I know of a place that is cheap, the atmosphere is great and the food is the best I've ever had. Interested?" "Sure," said Joe, interested more in getting her back into a happier frame of mind than eating. "Where?" "Trust me," she said with a smile. "You'll love it." She then rattled off a string of sentences to the driver and the taxi sped off into the night. With a squeal of brakes the taxi pulled up to a stone quay near the mouth of the river. Here in a bend lay a small fleet of junks and sampans. Amiru approached a group of women and spoke briefly to them and soon she and one of the women returned to where Joe was waiting. "Okay," she said, "It's all set. Let's go." "Go?" Joe asked, looking around in confusion. "Go where?" "Follow her to the sampan, that's where," she said with a smile and a giggle. "Come on lover, be brave. I promise that you won't regret it." Together they followed the Malaysian woman to a moderately sized sampan, about twenty-five feet in length, and they all climbed in. "Where to now?" asked Joe. "I thought we were going to a restaurant." "No restaurant," she answered, "Unless you consider Typhoon Anchorage a restaurant." Joe looked around the boat. The older woman was seated in the back where she was sculling with a single long oar. The sampan was heading out to sea and away from the mainland. In the front of the sampan he was a small stove and a large bag of what seemed to be charcoal. A few baskets were there also and they contained a mismatched set of plates, cups and silverware. Another basket contained an extensive collection of spices, herbs and vegetables. Amiru watched Joe as he examined the small boat. When she saw the light of enlightenment in his eyes she explained. "She is taking us out to meet the fishing fleet. There she will prepare whatever we select for us." Ahead Joe could see a collection of sampans and, farther away, the first of the returning fishing fleet. Big Chinese junks, the lines of which had not changed in thousands of years. Amiru and the woman exchanged a few more comments before she turned back to Joe. "I told her to use her own judgement with the fishermen. She knows them far better than we do and she's likely to get a better selection that way." Joe nodded in agreement then returned his attention to the other small boats. They also were preparing for the arrival of the fleet. Near at hand he saw makeshift buoys in the water and noticed that the sampans were using these as their mooring points. The woman raised a small pole with a red banner attached to it and slid it into a holder at the stern of the sampan. "That tells the Captains that we are ready to negotiate," Amiru explained. The big junks paraded by the motley collection of small boats, the woman using her oar deftly while shouting up to the boats captains. Finally she came to an agreement with one and a crewman threw her a line, allowing the sampan to remain alongside without the junk stopping while the transaction took place. "What currency do you carry?" Amiru asked Joe finally. "Standard credits, Malaysian dollars and Italian lire, answered Joe. "Good, she answered. "Give me five standard credits please," she said, holding out her hand. "Five?" Joe said in amazement. "That's all?" "Yes," Amiru said, smiling. "For now, anyway. Later we will have to buy drinks too." Joe handed her five one credit coins. "But," he objected. "That is less than I tipped the taxi driver. Are you sure that will be enough?" "Yes. There are a number of things that you do not realize since you are not from Singapore, and currency is obviously one of them. You gave the taxi driver fifty Singapore dollars as a tip. That comes to about seven standard credits if you go to one of the official conversion centers. However if you take that same seven credits to one of the backstreet exchanges, instead of the official exchange rate of seven to one, you can get as high as twenty-five to one. So what you are looking at here is one hundred and twenty-five Malaysian dollars instead of the thirty five that you think your money is worth. She will use two credits to pay for the fish and keep the other three for herself. And believe me, she will be happy. "I never realized that," said Joe. "Are there really two different exchange rates here?" "Three actually. If you deal in one thousand credit notes I could get you as much as forty to one." "You could make a small fortune overnight by going back and forth between the two, couldn't you?" asked Joe cautiously. "No," she answered quickly. "That can't be done. You would have to prove where you got the dollars from when you go to reconvert them back to credits, since this is a local currency. The only place that you can get them is in Malaysia. You need a receipt or a bank invoice stating you had officially converted that much from credits before they would allow you to reconvert. If you tried, the banks would refuse the transaction." "There has to be a way around it though," insisted Joe. "Not really. But what you can do is convert one thousand credits officially to protect yourself, since dealing on the black market is illegal," Amiru explained. "Then you convert whatever you need over that amount on the black market for day-to-day expenses. When you get ready to leave you reconvert your thousand back into credits. It's a cheap way to have a good vacation. The receipt is your protection if the police stop you and you have to prove where you converted your currency." "Damn," said Joe, respect showing in his eyes, "I'll have to remember that." Their talk was interrupted by a basket being lowered from the Junk. In it were three large red fish and about a half-dozen small octopus. The woman examined them carefully and then dropped two of the coins in the basket. She then cast off the line and allowed the junk to proceed without her. She sculled the sampan back to the buoys and the collection of sampans moored there. She expertly snagged one of the buoys and clipped it to a line attached to the stern of her sampan, securing the boat in place. She then removed the red banner and replaced it with a white one. "That's the flag to signal the drink boats," Amiru explained. before long a small motorized boat pulled alongside and the bargaining began anew. Soon they were in possession of two large bottles of a dark native beer that Amiru claimed was excellent and two more credits changed hands. The Malaysian woman then deftly cleaned the fish and octopus, and expertly prepared them into one of the best seafood dinners that Joe could ever remember eating. The food and the ambient atmosphere of the quiet ocean created a soothing and satisfying mood that Joe had never experienced before. the hour was quite late before they were finally on their way back to the quay where they found a waiting row of taxis. "This place is not exactly a secret," laughed Amiru, leading Joe to a taxi. "Typhoon Anchorage is considered the finest seafood restaurant in the world," she continued once the taxi was on it's way. "There is a second anchorage in Hong Kong that is virtually the same as this one and there is a lot of argument over which one is better or, for that matter, older. "Singapore is an older city than Hong Kong but no one is really sure when the anchorage restaurants truly started. But it really does not matter. All I know is that they are good. Very good." "I'll agree with that," Joe said as Amiru directed the taxi to let them off about two blocks from the Raffles, so that they could walk back through the gardens. "Never have I eaten like that." Joe pulled her close as they walked through the darkened garden, following the footpaths by the light of low, dim lamps set along the edges of the paths. Eventually they came back to the front of the New Raffles and into the lobby, passing quickly through on their way up to their rooms. Joe unlocked the door and reached in to snap on the lights. His wrist was grabbed roughly from inside and he was yanked into the room. Surprised and unable to stop, he stumbled across the room and collided with an overstuffed chair that was in his way, crushing it as he fell to the floor. Joe slowly rolled over onto his back to see a black uniformed man pointing a small but deadly handgun at him. "Do not move" the man ordered tersely. "You are under arrest." Joe rolled his eyes over to look toward the door and saw another man in a similar uniform covering Amiru. "Leave her alone," he said. "she's done nothing." Sensing motion, he turned his attention to the other side of the room. There he saw four more men file out of the bedroom, all wearing similar uniforms. Joe was roughly assisted to his feet and then was thoroughly searched. One man removed his wallet and examined it. "It's Francelli," he said to the rest, examining the ID card. "Get him out of here." "Wait a minute," protested Joe. "What the hell is going on here? What gives you the right to break in here like this and grab us?" The man who had spoken and who seemed to be in charge turned back to Joe. "We're from the Singapore police force, and you have no rights here unless we choose to give them to you. Out," he barked at the two men holding him, gesturing toward the door. He was taken down through a strangely empty lobby and out to an unmarked police transport where he was locked into one of the holding cells inside. A short ride through the streets brought him to the local police station where he was transferred into a larger but equally dismal cell. 3 Abe finally left his rooms and reported to the exit officer. The man checked the camera hidden in an outside hall and then opened the hidden door, allowing Abe to slip quickly out and into the darkened hallway leading to the agency's parking garage where Abe kept his personal vehicle. Although he could afford much better, he chose to drive a modest three-wheeled dark brown runabout. It would not draw notice in a city where over a million similar vehicles were registered. He stopped briefly by the auto before deciding to walk tonight. His destination was not that far and he didn't need to add any more miles than necessary, preferring to keep his road-use taxes as low as possible. The streets tonight were dark and cold. Most of the street lamps were turned off to conserve power. Only the busiest streets were lit, and the occasional neighborhood where the residents were wealthy enough to pay for the power needed to keep the lights lit and maintained. The sections of the city that Abe was heading toward was in the poorest section of town, and the farthest he went, the fewer lights were on until, near the abandoned sections where the homeless could be found, not only had the lights been shut off, but the poles had been removed by the city for use in other more prosperous locations. Abe's eyes had adjusted to the deepening gloom by the time he had arrived near his final destination, taking up stations across the street from an old, decaying brownstone building that was actually in better shape than most of it's neighbors. Abe had only a short wait before he saw a figure slip out of the shadows that hid the front door. The man was dressed in similar attire and hugged the edges of the buildings as best he could. Abe had met the man occasionally when he had been 'Jake' and knew that he supplemented his beggars income by brief nightly burglary raids on the mostly unprotected homes of the marginally employed lower classes. Abe had expected the man to be working almost every night. He was a young man, with the agility and speed of the young, and his live-in girlfriend had just delivered him with a new baby a few weeks earlier. Feeling the need for a steady source of reliable funds the man had been working very hard in the last few weeks to insure the health of his new baby. Abe followed him quietly, keeping well back but maintaining visual contact as the man slipped through the dark, silent city. The young man expertly avoided the few street lights that were still functioning as he returned to the more populated parts of the large city, finally selecting a darkened home. Abe could see nothing special about this house but realized that the man probably had his reasons for choosing his one. Abe took up stations across the street and settled in to wait, pulling the collar of his thin coat up over his exposed neck and taking cover from the cold wind. He expected to be spending a number of similar nights until the opportunity that he was waiting for arrived. Seven long nights passed slowly, while Abe watched the skilled second-story man successfully ply his trade. He had received a number of go-aheads from control but had not been in position to make use of them. But he was, if nothing else, patient. He knew that all factors would eventually work out and the job would finally end. At two am, the eighth night out, Abe was hiding behind the remains of a large sofa and across the street from a large apartment building when he saw the young man swiftly climb down the ornate facade of the building and drop quietly to the pavement. As usual he carried little in the way of bulky objects, apparently selecting small, more valuable items that would be much easier to carry.xxx "Control here," came the tinny voice in his left ear. "Ninety seconds if you can finish it now." The voice broke off, leaving him alone with the silence of the dark evening. He knew nearly instinctively that the times given him by control had to be strictly adhered to to insure that there would be no alibi this evening. He also knew that he would have to play a difficult game of dodging the patrolling police cruisers afterwards. Abe stood silently from behind the ruins of an old sofa that he had been using as cover as the young man slipped swiftly into an alleyway. Abe followed him on silent feet, closing the distance between the two men rapidly. Just as the man was turning onto a wider but still quiet street, Abe released the first of the two knives, catching the man high in the upper thigh. Abe knew that, since the blade was poisoned, the wound would prove fatal but not fast enough to insure instant death. The man let out a soft gasp and dropped to the dirty pavement, clawing for an inside pocket and his com unit. He managed to press the emergency button before losing consciousness, death finally taking him shortly after that. "Com link activated," reported the tinny voice. Light cruiser is on it's way to your location. Satcam coverage locked in, and has you under surveillance," it added. Abe dropped the second knife in the alley and turned to run quickly back the way he came, relying on the satcam to keep track of his movement. He was two blocks away when the voice returned. "Light cruiser has reached the scene," it reported. "An alert has gone out to all units and a grid has been laid out. Satcam coverage has you listed as the prime suspect," it added needlessly. Two cruisers are now maneuvering to intercept you." Abe knew exactly how the grids worked and felt reasonably sure that he could keep ahead of the cruisers until the next stage of the operation was completed. Using a complicated scheme of turns and switchbacks, he kept moving himself off of the grid map the police were laying down as they hunted, forcing them to continually widen their patterns. Finally, Abe turned out onto a wide boulevard and ahead of him, mounted on the side of the building he saw a police camera and shortly after that, noticed the brief flash of laser light as the unit attempted to take his retina print. The security screen he was wearing flared and died, the laser pulsing again and again as Abe attempted to cover his eyes with his hands and stumble back around the corner, away from the camera. Smiling to himself, he darted into a narrow alleyway and found a rusting manhole cover. Ripping it up out of its mounting ring he dropped into the city's sewer system and fled through the darkened tunnels, finally escaping the police patrols. As Abe ran, he congratulated himself on a successful operation, as the comlink once again called for his attention. "Lasercam transmitted three complete retina prints to police headquarters," it announced. "The game is nearly complete. All police cruisers have been recalled and in about ten minutes it will be safe to finish the job." Abe settled down to a leisurely walk, keeping his eyes open for an easy exit out into the streets above him. Ahead he saw a bright circle of light streaming in from a missing manhole. He climbed carefully up the rusting ladder and peeked out of the hole. He was in another alleyway, but this one was off one of the city's main arteries and lay close to a functioning street light. Abe levered himself out of the hole, attempting to stay as clean as possible, brushing off the worst of the dirt before setting off purposefully toward one of the automated shopping outlets that he often frequented between assignments. Once he arrived there, he used his ID to open one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind him and accessing the shopping lists. He scrolled through until he found security screens and ordered one of the same models as the defective one that he now wore. He had waited about ten minutes when a thump announced the arrival of the package in the delivery hopper. He opened the corrugated box and removed the new helmet and placed it on the table in front of him. He then removed the defective one and put it in the box before dropping it down the disposal chute, sending it on its way to the salvage station. The last thing he did was remove the contacts and swallowed them, depending on his stomach's acid to quickly break down the soft plastic lenses and remove the evidence. After completing this last chore, he slowly walked back to the parking garage. He completed the algorithym, using the days date as the variable and entered a six digit code into the keyboard of the inoperative elevator on the first floor. He stepped out of the old car and waited for the control officer to identify him and open the hidden door, allowing him access to the underground offices of the Agency. He nodded briefly to the access officer before seeking out his briefing officer where he turned in his fake ID. "Good job," the man said warmly. "The police have enough evidence to pick the man up and make all charges stick. Soon they will have the opportunity to extract any information needed to convict him of the other murders as well," the man said, smiling. Abe chose not to answer the man but left silently, not even acknowledging the man's words. He really disliked these types of operations, but recognized their necessity. He had read that before the turn of the century, confessed criminals actually got off due to technicalities in the law. Today however, the laws were much harder to beat. And in the cases that were nearly impossible to prove, Internal Security had the means to manufacture any evidence needed, once the criminal's guilt had been assured. Today, like the eighties and nineties, a person's right to privacy was held to be inviolable. This did not mean that the police wouldn't use whatever they had to to acquire evidence, it just meant that much of it was inadmissible in court. Hence the need for operations similar to those he had just completed. If a criminal was successfully eluding the law, The agency had no compulsions toward manufacturing whatever was needed to prove guilt in a court of law once the police were assured of the man's guilt. "And," thought Abe, "to date, none of the cases that they had assisted in had ever been acquitted in court, but all had led to the conviction of the criminal in question." He passed quickly through the halls until he came to the offices occupied by his boss. "You cannot go in yet," protested the secretary, as Abe ignored her, stepping past and into the larger office. The man was alone, but was facing his vid and speaking to someone Abe could not see. "Something's come up, Major. I'll get back to you," he said as he hit the cancel button and turned to face Abe. Abe spoke first, not allowing the man any time. "You know I hate these kinds of assignments," he started, cutting off the older man with a sharp gesture before continuing. "I believe that I am overdue for vacation, and I am taking it!," he said, his tone of voice indicating that he would not accept any answer other than "yes." The older man nodded briefly before entering a string of commands in his comp. He then looked up and smiled. "Sure," he said, giving no argument. "In fact, I see that you have enrolled in our university," he announced." "The hell I have," growled Abe. "Vacation! Nothing more!," he said hotly. "But you will need it to take your cruise," he said, leaning back in his armchair and crossing his arms behind his head. "Just think," he continued. "Sixty days of nothing but rest, relaxation and seeing the sights." "There's a catch here, somewhere," said Abe suspiciously. "What am I supposed to be learning, anyway?" "Astronavigation," came the quick answer. "The hell you say," exploded Abe. "I absolutely will not accept another assignment yet. Especially one into space. Do you understand?" The last three words he punctuated by leaning over the large desk and driving his index finger into the older man's chest as he spoke. "Oh, come on, Abe, give me a break," he said disgustedly. "This assignment calls for a junior agent but since you need a break, I am offering it to you. It's a cakewalk. Besides, you are long overdue for your next upgrade. I was thinking of reccomending you for a promotion. You deserve one, judging by the way you handle your assignments. That would bring you up to Class Two." "Don't bullshit me. All class two's are general field operatives and are controlled by the area HQ. We both know that if you reccomend me, you will lose me. That is why I have been stuck here so long as a class three. I am the best that you have and you do not want to give me up." "That's not true," the older man protested. "You may be good but you are not the best. And you have to be damned good to rate a Class two. But to show you that I am sincere, if you agree to read the file, I will pass your reccomendation along to the sector headquarters. You can check on it personally before you commit to anything." He entered a string of commands on his terminal and turned back to Abe. "At least take the time to read the briefing report. It has been turned over to your room comp, and then think it over for a while. If you still say no, then you can have your vacation. Ok? And I am serious about the Class two." "Ok," Abe agreed finally, letting out a sigh of frustration. "I'll read it, but no promises," turning toward the door to let himself out. He returned to his rooms to read the reports, poring over the information there, losing track of time completely until his stomach growled for his attention and Abe realized how long he had been enraptured in the reports. He understood now why the Director had been so concerned. There seemed to be a back door into the computers that had yet to be found. Someone who was very good had entered quite a bit of information and bogus files. What was not known yet was how much had been added and what was yet to be uncovered. So far, all they seemed to have was a name. Charles Joiner. He was at present a prisoner on his way to Mars but there was no indication why the man was important to the underground. "He sure doesn't make it easy," thought Abe as he headed toward the cafeteria. Once there he found an empty table and settled himself in. "May I join you?," a voice asked from over his right shoulder. Abe looked up to see the briefing officer holding a tray and waiting to be invited to sit. "Sure," he offered, nodding toward one of the empty chairs. "Thanks," the young man said. "But honestly, I am not here by accident. The Director asked me to look you up. He said that you might have a few questions." Abe was not happy about being so manipulated but the man was correct. He did have a few things on his mind. He said nothing for a short while, but quickly finished his meal before speaking again. "How much do you know of this new mission?" Abe asked finally. "Probably more than you do, but not that much more," he admitted reluctantly. "That's a start," Abe said, settling back into his chair before continuing. "The Director said that this would be an easy job, and that he was originally going to assign a junior agent," Abe began. "But judging by the briefing reports, this one was designed around my special qualifications. True?" "Yes," nodded the young man. "This will be an easy job but only because you have the necessary position in the underground to handle it. The underground is up to something and the Director wants to know what." "Do you know anything at all about who it is that I am to follow?" "I don't," said the young man. "But I do not know what information the Director has at his disposal that he hasn't shared yet." Abe nodded but said nothing, lost in thought for the moment. "Surely there must be some information on him in the data banks," said Abe after a short break. "Unfortunately, no," said the briefing officer, much to the surprise of Abe. We suspect that they have access to the comp records and that they have changed his data files," continued the young man. "We wish to find out what they are doing, and one of the operations involves keeping track of the man and seeing what they are up to. Interested?" "Abe nodded reluctantly. "I hate to admit it, but yes, I am," he said to the smiling man. "We thought so," he admitted. "We suspected that once you fell into the information you would be intrigued enough to see it through." He stood before continuing. "In that case the Director would like to see you right away in his office sir," he said before leaving Abe alone at the small table. The Director was seated in his office, exactly as Abe had left him a few hours earlier. "In a better mood?," he asked cheerfully. "Somewhat," admitted Abe, seating himself in one of the comfortable chairs near the large desk. Abe let his eyes wander around the office, his eyes lingering over the wall of antique books, scanning rows of titles, most of which Abe had read at one time or another, although he owned no actual volumes. The rest of the office was decorated in comfortable furniture and expensive art objects, collected from various places all over the solar system, including a Martian abstract of red sandstone. If it was authentic, it was probably the most valuable piece in the room. Some people believed that the stones were of natural origin but most thought that they were relics of a long-lost Martian civilization that had disappeared millions of years ago, leaving nothing behind except piles of beautiful stone sculptures. Finally the Director spoke, drawing his attention away from the art. "So, have you made your decision yet?," he asked hopefully. Abe nodded, but said nothing at first but examined the Director. "Yes," he said finally. "Good," the Director said finally. "I thought that you would come around." He entered another string of commands into his terminal and slid a flimsy to Abe. "This is a copy of the reccomendation I sent of to HQ." He stopped speaking to spin the monitor around so that Abe could see the screen as the information he called for appeared. "Here is all the additional data that you didn't get due to security reasons. This should answer all of the rest of your questions." Abe nodded, quickly scanning the additional information and committing it to memory. "Then the underground does have access to the comp files?," he said finally, after reading the data. "Yes," agreed the Director. "They are getting in somewhere but we have yet to determine where and close the door. Until then, they can play havoc with the comp." "I can see why you are interested in this case, then. If we don't find the door, they can do literally anything and get away with it completely, with no worry of getting caught!" "That," agreed the Director," is why we want you to follow this Charles Joiner out into the colonies and find out who and what he and what it is that they are up to!" "Ok, I'm your man then. This sounds like an easy assignment after all. And I will have plenty of time to relax," he said with a laugh. "It may actually turn out to be a vacation. "That is one way to look at it," laughed the Director. "A vacation that no ammount of money can buy!" Things moved quickly after that. There was a rush to get him processed and into the system soon enough to be on the Oppenheimer when it left orbit for Mars. Once he had been down to the Hypnocenter and was crammed with a complete knowledge of Astronavigation, he was transferred to the Internal Security offices in North Africa, to await the launch of the last shuttle of prisoners. He was being escorted down into the prisoners section when his two guards stopped at an office and passed him through the door to an immaculately dressed lieutenant waiting inside. "Please sit, sir." The Lieutenant asked. Abe said nothing but sat as the lieutenant left the office by the front door. After a short wait the inner office door opened and Abe came face to face with Major Caine. Abe leaped to his feet as he entered, but sat down again as the Major waved absently at his chair. "This will be your last briefing," said Caine, placing a large briefcase on the desk. "And I brought along some special equipment that you will be needing on the mission." Abe said nothing but settled in to wait and listen to what the man had to say. Time. How do you measure time in a gray box with no windows? Two days or ten days could have passed. Or two hours. Memory hazes after a period of disorientation. But finally, after a small eternity he heard a door open down the hall and soon after that a large guard appeared. "Come on," the guard ordered. "You're wanted up front." He stood as the guard opened up the cell door and then was led to a series of rooms where he was slowly processed through the system. He was photographed, his fingerprints and retina prints recorded, he had his height and weight measured, his blood type, tissue type and finally his brain wave patterns recorded. After they were satisfied that he really was who they thought he was, they returned him to his cell. Through the entire grim ordeal no one, except for a few terse commands, had spoken to him. And no one would answer any of his questions. When he reentered his cell he found a plain but filling meal waiting for him. Algae paste proteins but then he had hardly expected more than that. And although he could find no indications of one, there must have been a camera monitoring his cell because, as soon as he had finished his meal, the guard reappeared to remove the empty tray. When the guard had disappeared another man, in a dark suit that almost screamed Lawyer, appeared and let himself into the cell. "Hi, I'm Marc Williams," he said, announcing himself before he sat on the bed next to Joe. "I have been assigned by the courts as your public defender." "It's about time," Joe said crossly. "I am getting sick and tired of all this runaround. But I can afford a real attorney, I don't need one assigned to me." "I am a real attorney and it's no runaround," he said. "I'm afraid the arrest is legitimate." "Legitimate?," protested Joe. "Bull shit. I just arrived from Armstrong and I haven't been here long enough to break any laws." "Nonetheless you were picked up with a known courier from the underground. It is suspected that you are also a courier here to pick up something and return it to the Armstrong." "That's crazy," Joe shouted, leaping to his feet. The cell was too small to pace in but he remained standing. "No, it's not crazy," Marc continued. "Unfortunately the evidence is stacked against you and there will be no acquittal. In fact you have already been found guilty! That is why you were assigned an attorney. Since you have already been judged guilty, you have no need to hire one. The money would just be wasted." "Look," said Joe in desperation. "We both know that the underground idea is nuts. The government..." He stopped to wave a hand toward the front of the building. "Everyone knows that Internal Security controls the underground and now, you are trying to tell me that the police think I am a member? Internal Security knows who they all are, just check with them." Marc held up his hands in supplication. "Look," he said. "I know you are not a courier, but the charges will stand, no matter what you do. Besides, before you could appeal the charges, you will be long gone. I don't like this any better than you do. This is one of my least favorite jobs and I am probably going to get into trouble telling you this but what the hell." He stopped and looked up toward the light fixture. "If they are going to railroad you, at least you should know why. The police want you out of the picture and this is the easiest way to do it." "But why?" Joe asked in a puzzled voice. "What the hell am I supposed to have done?" "Nothing. Personally I think that you are in the right and she should be the one punished." "She? Amiru?," said Joe incredulously. "What has she got to do with this?" "Everything," continued Marc. "In fact she is the reason that you are here. Look, you obviously don't know who she is. Her husband is Senator Polkova, one of the richest men in the world. And her own personal fortune is not far below that. He is in his seventies, while she is in her early twenties. Usually he just looks the other way when she has her affairs but then, she's not supposed to be so blatant about them." Marc stopped and waved back to the bed. "Sit down," he said. I don't like the way you are looming over me and my neck is beginning to ache. Please?" Joe sat, reluctantly. "Okay," he said. "But if what you are saying is true, why did they ever get married in the first place?" "You obviously don't know much about politics either. In Malaysia, the law says that if he dies while in office, his designated replacement inherits his seat. And she is who he designated. True, she will still have to stand for reelection but believe me, as an incumbent, it is almost impossible to lose the seat! This is just about the only way she stood a chance to get into the Senate. And as one of the youngest members of the World Senate, she stands to inherit untold power and wield it for a very long time. It was in her best interests to marry him. And he needed her family's power at the time to get a special project of his through. Otherwise it would have stood no chance at all. So believe me when I say it was a marriage based only on political power, not love. "Unfortunately for you, at this moment there is a behind the scenes power struggle going on in the Security Council. Senator Polkova chairs that council and he does not need an unfaithful wife's affairs thrown in his face by his political rivals at this time. He needed to show his opponents that he still can wield the power necessary to get his job done. You just turned out to be the example he needed. It is strictly politics, backroom, knifepoint politics and there is nothing either of us can do about it." "Ok. So if what you say is true, just what can I do?" "Nothing," admitted Marc sadly. "In a couple of days you will go on trial. And then it will be officially over. Look, you are lucky. This is a rush job. You will be tried, packaged, and sent off so fast that no one will see you go. You will be on the Oppenheimer when it leaves next week for Mars." "Mars?" Joe asked. "Just what the hell is an orbital pilot supposed to do on Mars?" "Not much. But there is a dire need for qualified ships pilots out in the belt." "Well, that's something," Joe snarled in frustration. "But once out there, I can't return. Ever! That is not fair! What about the rest of my life? and the plans I have. Have you tried contacting my family to see what they can do? My father is powerful in his own right" "So who ever said life was fair?," shot back Marc. "There is nothing they can do for you. Your father cannot buck the power Senator Polkova wields. Especially on his own turf. Had you gone to Italy instead, it would be a different story. Besides, it's a whole new life out there. Internal Security does not have it's tentacles there yet and may never do so." "So what's that supposed to mean?," asked Joe guardedly, picking up on the tone of the statement. Marc said nothing, but reached into his inside coat pocket. He removed a small black box with a couple of switches on it. He turned it on and set a dial. "I have to talk fast," he said. This is a squealer. It puts out a high frequency signal that overloads the audio pickup and they cannot monitor our conversation. There are big things happening there and the belt is the place to be. If you are interested you will be in on the action at one of the major turning points in history." "Like what?," asked Joe, beginning to get interested. "I can't tell you too much because I don't know much myself. But you are one of the types that I look for. You fit a specific job profile. In fact the profile could have been written right from your records, since you are the closest match I have ever found. But believe me when I say that this is not an end but a beginning. A new and bright beginning for Mars and the Asteroid Colonies. That is the place to be and you will learn more once you are out there. If you are interested, that is. There will be a ship on Deimos captained by Shaun O'Cassidy and the ship's name is the Runner, be on it." "I'll think about it," Joe said. "Okay?" Marc smiled. "Sure. That's really all that I can ask. There is one more thing though," he said, turning off the box. He handed Joe a short stack of papers. "These are the bills from the New Raffles. If you would look them over and approve them I can authorize their payment from your cash reserve. You do, by the way, have enough cash to cover it all." Joe smiled, taking the papers. "Sure," he said. "It's not their fault, what happened to me. It was a good hotel and they deserve to get paid." He read and then signed them for Marc. "How much will be left over after all of the bills are paid?" "Your personal accounts cannot be touched," said Mark "What happens to them?" "Once you are officially declared guilty it gets transferred to Mars. The official rate of exchange is one standard credit per Mars dollar. The actual value is about ten Mars dollars to one credit, so the government stiff's you there too. But there is nothing that you can do about it. They own the game and they make all of the rules. But you still will have a very large total," Marc explained. "Much more than most who arrive on Mars. You won't be badly off at all. In fact, you will have enough credit to buy your own ship outright if you want one. Few captains ever get to own their own ships." "Why is that?," asked Joe. He had never expected to get sent to the colonies so he, like most had learned very little about the actual situation out there. "It's tied in with the economic situation," said Marc. "Remember what I said the Mars dollar is actually worth? Well here's how it works. When you buy a ship, the banks, which are Earth controlled will not deal in Mars dollars because they consider it a local currency. You must exchange them for standard credits first. That is where they get you again. They exchange them back at the real value of ten to one. Everything that you buy, you pay actual value for but everything that you sell, including currency, you only get one tenth of its actual value. They figure it's value in credits and then pay you in Mars Dollars. That way they cannot lose. It's a system that is very unfair and one that needs changing badly." "Is there any way around it?," asked Joe. "Could I buy a ship here on Earth?" "No. The system was designed to gut the colonies of everything of value to supply a resource starved Earth. As a result nearly every colonist is not only broke but deeply in debt to the banks. They spend all of their time working to supply the hunger of the industries both on and off Earth. We now effectively have a class of serfs. An entire population economically tied to a piece of land with absolutely no way to move from it. In this case the piece of land is the Asteroid belt but it is still a valid analogy. They toil unceasingly, never getting out of debt but are always trying, although they fall deeper and deeper into debt every day." "Why?," asked Joe in a puzzled voice. "What happens then?" "Nothing. A person who is in debt is a person that can be controlled, a person who is owned. They want you in debt. The entire system is designed to keep you there. Remember that it is only a paper debt. If the colonists were paid a proper wage most of them would not be in debt at all. As of now the belt simply does not produce enough to cover the full cost of the colonies. There is a huge deficit that Earth feels more and more as her own economy falters. It keeps the colonists locked to this system to assure themselves that every last drop of blood is squeezed out of them." "I'm not sure that I understand," said Joe. "What kind of a whip do they hold? If everyone is in debt then why bother to try to repay them?" "Everything is bought and sold through the banks. If you don't do what they feel that you are capable of then they can reduce your rations until you are on a starvation diet. But they rarely do that. There are other ways of keeping people in line. Ship Captains, for instance face the possibility of losing their ships. In fact that is where they get the crews for the Mars runs. Operating a big freighter is a very undesirable job. The crews are on a very fixed income and have no chance of striking a big mineral or ore deposit like the mining ships do. They get no frills or luxuries, just the bare essentials. Most miners will do nearly anything to avoid falling that far. And there are other equally undesirable jobs. The only way to fill them is from the debtors rolls." Marc saw the confusion in Joe's eyes and quickly continued. "The roll is a complete list of the population of the colonies and how far in debt everyone is. When a job opening occurs the man or woman on the bottom of the list is assigned to it. Once you are assigned to one of these positions you serve for one year. At the end of that time your debt is cut in half and that raises you up above the point where you won't get another such assignment soon. There is a large enough turnover that at one time or another nearly all of the population is close to the assignment point." "Damn," said Joe. "It sounds a lot like slavery to me, yet you said that the belt is the place to be. Why?" "A repressive system such as that cannot last long. It will have to be changed and believe me, it will. Go out there and wait and see." Marc said no more but stood and let himself out of the cell. He disappeared down the gray corridor and Joe heard the security door down the long hall open and then shut behind the departing man. Dr. Quade awoke to keys jangling in the lock of his cell. He sat up on the side of the narrow cot, awaiting his captors. The cot was a small comfort in a cell of harsh angles. A toilet was set in one corner next to a concrete sink. A single faucet gave what water he needed. Cold water. No sense in making it any more comfortable than necessary. "Prisoner 13401, step out of the cell." Dr. Quade stood and examined his guard. Large, efficient looking. No apparent weapons, and probably had little need for any. As Dr. Quade left the cell the guard backed up, staying out of easy reach. In the narrow gray corridor stood a second guard, similar in appearance to the first. "Turn and walk down the passage," the guard directed with a curt, gruff voice. As Dr. Quade slowly made his way down the hall, the second guard stopped and relocked the cell door. On his way down the hall Dr. Quade passed a number of other cells. Most were empty but a few contained other prisoners. At the far end of the hall a heavy steel door opened out onto a large busy hall with the standard flavor of administration. The heavy steel door swung closed and was locked behind him and he was escorted to a small office. Here he was directed to sit in a chair next to a desk. "Prisoner 13401," a pretty young girl began, switching on her desk comp terminal. "We have finished entering your trial data and are now ready to transfer you out." She punched a few keys on the terminal and a printer clattered into life before ejecting a small plastic card. "Keep this with you at all times," she directed. She reached into a lower desk drawer and removed a long chain. "Wear it around your neck," she said, attaching the chain to the card. She then handed the card and chain to Dr. Quade. On one side of the card was his photo and on the other his pertinent biological data and a name. Charles Joiner. "The card will allow you to move freely about the holding areas of the ship," she said. She turned to the two guards. "I'm through with him here," she instructed. "You can now take him to medical." He stood, allowing the two guards to lead him out of the office, back into the corridor and into another set of suites a short distance away. Here he was confronted by a tall young man who handed him a clipboard and a pencil. "Fill out all of the forms and then return them to me," he was directed. Dr. Quade took a seat at a nearby booth and began. They contained all of the usual questions. List any and all allergies, history of broken bones, and so on and so on. After completing the paperwork he was next subjected to the most complete physical examination that he had had the misfortune of experiencing. Feeling at least five pounds lighter from the tissue and fluid samples they took, he was at last turned back over to his two guards. The last stop on the agenda was at the far end of the corridor. Here he was keyed through a security door into a small antechamber. Mounted on the wall at waist level, next to another security door was a small card reader. He inserted his card into the slot and the door cycled open revealing a comfortable waiting lounge where he was, for the first time since his arrest, in the company of other prisoners. Mounted high on one wall was a vid terminal tuned to one of the local sports stations. A table in the corner was being used by four men as a card table. Other prisoners made use of the large collection of books and magazines spread through the room. One of the card players stood and made his way over to him. "Do you know how to play five-man murder?," he asked. The man was short and swarthy with a definite Mediterranean look about him. His long face was accentuated by short black hair and cold blue eyes. "Yeah, but not since college," said Dr. Quade. "A long time ago." "College man, huh? Well professor, few of us here have much book learning but I think that you will find us a pretty sharp crew." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Joe" he said, introducing himself." "I'm, uh, just call me Charlie, Ok?," said Dr. Quade. "Sure thing. Come on over and meet the rest of the gang." He led Dr Quade over to the table. "That's Pete," began Joe, moving around the table toward a large man with a red beard and hair, with noticeably green eyes set back into his head. Pete nodded his acknowledgment. "Next to him is Tom," continued Joe. "Not his real name though. Won't tell us who he is so we all kinda settled on Tom." Tom examined Dr. Quade, blinking once but otherwise not speaking at all. "Last is Abdullah. He doesn't speak much English but he is a real sharp card player." Abdullah also nodded. And I am Joe Franchelli. Ipso facto leader of this motley montage of assorted criminals and ragtag citizenry. "Call me Charlie," he announced to the group. "But before we get started do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" "Depends," said Joe. "What do you want to know?" "First," began Charlie, "Where are we?" "Here?," Asked Joe in surprise. "Internal Security HQ., North Africa. The largest military base on the continent." "Their shuttle launch base, right?" "Correct," said Joe. "What else do you want to know?" "That's the main thing, but do you happen to know when we lift to the Mars ship?" "Mars," said Pete wistfully. "Do you know that we are lucky? Today is the last lift to the ship before she leaves orbit. After today's lift, Mars will be too far out of position for another ship launch. Only fast ships using grav-whip can make the run. Far too expensive to send colonists that way. By next launch date, the Antarctic penal colony will have lost twenty-five percent of their inmates. Did you know that?" Charlie shook his head. "No, I've never heard those figures before." "Yeah, well it's true," finished Joe. "They don't usually publish those figures on the newsvid. Anyway, lift is in about two hours. Let's play murder." Abdullah dealt first and Charlie waited until all of his cards had been dealt him before picking up his hand. "Damn," he thought. Only a small death. He might just fill it but the odds were he would suicide first. He examined the other players, seeking information in their faces. Joe looked worried, Tom and Pete were completely unreadable and Abdullah looked pleased. "Well," he thought to himself, "I'll concentrate on the two I can read and try to get the feel of the other two as the game unfolds." "I'll take one," announced Tom, seated to Abdullah's left. Abdullah dealt him one card. Tom picked it up and discarded a jack. And so the play went. As the end of the two hours approached Charlie felt that he had done rather well, managing to complete one full murder while holding his own fairly well on the hands that had fallen against him. Joe finally scooped up the cards and returned them to their box, which then disappeared into a pocket. "Reconvene aboard ship gentlemen?," he asked with a shy grin. "Sure thing," said Charlie. "Look me up." The others all nodded in agreement. "Attention" said a soft feminine voice a short time later. "You will all exit the lounge by the rear door," she said, indicating the heavy steel door was set in the back wall of the lounge. "As you go through the door you all must run your card through the reader," the hidden voice continued. "Once aboard the transport you may sit wherever you wish but you all must sit. When you are all aboard, the transport will run you out to the shuttle." The voice cut off abruptly as the steel door swung open, revealing a small room with another glass door at the far end. Dr. Quade joined the queue at the door, finding himself a seat at the rear of the vehicle. After a short run out onto the shuttle parking area, the transport's rear doors mated with the boarding lock on the large craft and both doors opened, allowing access to the interior of the ship. "All please exit the transport and seat yourselves in the shuttle" the feminine voice ordered. The interior of the shuttle was much like the commercial ships, which Dr. Quade was very familiar, but there were a few minor changes. One, the seats were narrower, allowing more of them. In this version there were three seats on each side of the narrow aisle instead of the normal two. And the compartments usually found up over the seats had been removed as was the forward flight attendants station. Most notably, the access door between the passenger and pilots compartments was missing. In it's place was a blank aluminum bulkhead. "Please make sure that your safety harnesses are fastened securely," a male voice announced, and Dr. Quade assumed that the pilot was now speaking. "Lift-off will be in ten minutes." Dr. Quade had gotten on board the shuttle early and had seated himself in one of the better seats, in front of the deeply swept wings where the vibration would be slightly less. He would have a good view of the terraine through the side viewport as the shuttle lifted off from the large air base. In the center seat next to him sat Joe, and a young man, one of the last to enter the shuttle occupied the aisle seat. There was almost no conversation in the shuttle as a dark feeling of anticipation spread through the vehicle. A slight vibration could be felt and, soon after the access hatch had been closed and sealed, the whine of the four large jet engines could be heard. They were mounted close in to the body of the shuttle, the base of the wings widening around them to protect them from reentry shock. Special panels mated with the wings could be closed off to protect them from reentry heat. Outside the viewscreen the scenery of the North African desert swung around as the shuttle rolled down the curving access lane, heading toward the main runways. The shuttle made one last tight turn to align its nose wheel with the center stripe of the miles long runway and Dr. Quade could see the massive white concrete and tinted plas building that contained Internal Security HQ. Suddenly the wing engines accelerated to a near ear piercing whine and the shuttle lurched into a smooth roll down the long runway. The passengers were pressed back into their meagerly padded seats and the gray white desert sand dropped away below them as the big shuttle clawed it's way upward, fighting for altitude. Up in the cockpit the pilot decreased his throttle settings as his flight speed increased and the shuttle gained lift, bringing the engine noise in the passenger cabin down to a much more tolerable level. The pilot thumbed the intercom switch as the shuttle passed 60,000 feet. "May I have your attention please," he announced. "At this time, please do not remove your safety harnesses. Scramjet ignition will be taking place in about thirty seconds. We will be going balistic briefly as I reconfigure airflow through the engines." Dr Quade could feel the rumblings of the powerful scramjets as the shuttle's speed came within ignition range. He pressed his head back into the padding in anticipation when, without warning, all aceleration ceased followed almost immediately by a surge in acceleration as the four big engines fired, thrusting all passengers back deeply into their seats and accelerating the shuttle far past the sound barrier. "Remarkable piece of machinery," Dr Quade thought. Powered by ram/scramjets in the lower reaches of the atmosphere and liquid fueled rockets when out in space. They were launched from huge bases near the equator to take advantage of the Earth's rotational speed, and were capable of short hops into low earth orbit to rendezvous with Leo base. At about 260,000 feet the scramjets began faltering and three small rocket engines cut in, propelling the shuttle into a stable Earth orbit, to match with Leo base. Out of the port side windows the prisoners could clearly see the big station. "Impressive, is it not?" commented Charlie. "You should see Shepherd if you think this one is big." "I've seen it Joe. I've seen them all. But they all are beautiful in their own way." "I know what you mean. I believe that is why I have never tired of space. No matter how often you see something, it can always look new to you. It is as if you forget just how beautiful it all can be. Space can be quite spectacular." There was a touch of awe and wonder coloring his voice. "I wonder what we are waiting for," said Charlie finally. "I thought that we were heading for Leo base." "That is what I had heard. But I have no idea what is happening now." After a short wait the cabis speaker crackled into life. "This is the pilot speaking," he began. "It looks like the Mars ship is anxious to get you all on board. Leo is sending out a sled with an auxiliary fuel tank on board. Once it is mated to the shuttle, we will boost directly out to the Oppenheimer." In the cabin Charlie and Joe said little, letting the confused voices of the other prisoners quiet down a bit. "I didn't know these shuttles could do that," Charlie said finally. "Neither did I. Apparently that is something that they do not want too many people to know about. Although I cannot understand why." "{erhaps it is merely a matter of economics. It is far cheaper to load everyone into the small orbital busses instead of boosting his big thing all the way out to geosynch. it's a big ship to move tha far." "Yeah, I guess that you are right," conceded Joe. A slow moving light outise the port attracted their attention. Soon, they could see the outlines of a small sled with a large fuel tank strapped underneath. the sled disappeared below the view of the prisoners and before long they felt a small bump as the tank was mated to the belly of the bug shuttle. "May I have your attention again," said the unseen pilot. "If any of you have removed your seat belts or have left your seats, please return to them. In ninety seconds I will be initiating a burn that will lift us below the orbit of the Oppenheimer. Once the burn is completed, you will have the opportunity to stretch your legs a bit. If any of you need to use the facilities, be sure that you read the instructions completely before you make a mess. I will not be cleaning it up, you will." "Sounds like a nice guy," said Charlie with a grin. Joe chuckled quietly but said nothing. Suddenly, with no warning, the main engined fired atan and they could see Leo base disappearing behind them as the Shuttle moved away. The pilot threw the ship into a tight eliptical orbit, dipping down nearly into the atmosphere, using the Earth's gravity to add more speed to the shuttle. The top of the ellipse would be near but below the orbit of the Oppenheimer, awaiting them in geosynch. "Okay, that's it folks," the pilot finally announced after the engines had shut down. "We will be in zero gee for some time now and I will warn you all before we make our next burn to rendezvoux with the Oppenheimer. You can now remove your seat belts and move about the cabin if you wish." In the cabin, Charlie was enjoying the view. He could see a large portion of the Earth through his port. Beside him, Joe leaned over to get a last glimps of Earth. "I thought that you would have gotten used to this sight by now," commented Charlie. "Never. Every time you see it, it takes your breath away. Besides, this is the last time I am going to see Earth again. And I am going to miss her." "Home sick?" "A little. But mostly mad. There is so much that I wanted to see. And now it is all being taken away from me and there is nothing I can do about it. My last meal was in Singapore, on a Junk." Charlie looked at him quizically. "You had to be there," said Joe. "There is much that I will miss also. My house for instance. I lived in a restored Victorian mansion. No, not a reproduction, nearly sixty percent of the house was verified original. It was on the national historic register. True, I did not see much of the world but what I did see, I will also miss." The two men said nothing, both lost in their own private reveries The time passed reasonably fast and Joe noticed that none of the other passengers left their seats during the trip, content to stay seated as the pilot had reccomended. "In five minutes," the pilot finally announced, I will initiate another engine burn. This will stabilize our orbit to match the Mars ship. If any of you have left your seats, please return to them and make sure that your harnesses are fastened." He made a few last-minute computer notations and then fired the main engines. The Mars ship lay behind them, about five kilometers away. Once he was sure that the orbit was stable he reignited the main engine raising it into a higher, slower orbit. Outside the cabin windows the Mars ship could be seen, slowly passing the shuttle in it's lower orbit. "Shuttle A3 to Oppenheimer," called the pilot, opening a channel of communications. "This is the Oppenheimer," came a confirming voice. "Go ahead, shuttle A3." "Will be arriving at your orbit soon," the pilot answered. "I have one last load of pilgrims for the wagon train." "Roger, shuttle A3," replied the controller with a grimace, as he tried to remember all of the variations of that tired old joke he had heard through the years. "Shuttle A3, I have docking confirmation now," the controller sent. "Bring your shuttle to access port B. There is a transfer tube set up and waiting for you," he said. "Roger, control," the pilot answered. He fired the directional jets, expertly bringing the shuttle in alongside the huge ship. Unlike the sleek shuttle this ship would never touch atmosphere. Similar lines of engineering could be seen between the Oppenheimer and the orbital sled. Most of the bulk of the ship was open steel framework connecting the parts of the ship that were enclosed. At the front the navigation and crews quarters. Farther back were the colonists quarters, linked by a pair of semi-flexible tunnels to the crews quarters. Much farther behind that, near the stern of the big ship lay the engineering modules and finally the huge nuclear engines. Attached throughout the framework were the fuel bladders, most of which were full. The rest of the open space would be filled after the ship reached Mars by the tons of metals and minerals from the Asteroid mines. On the way out she would be light and relatively fast, but on the return voyage she would be solid and slow, every usable square inch of space filled. Somewhere ahead of her were her two sister ships, the Einstein and the Neils Bohr. The Bohr would reach Mars in about thirty days, the Einstein two weeks later and the Oppenheimer in about two months. Once at Mars they would put down on Deimos to be refitted by the shipyards that had built them. The access port swung into view, its docking tube reaching out from the side of the ship like a huge gun barrel. Near the end of the tube were four suited figures. The pilot stopped all motion relative to the Oppenheimer, his job over for the moment. The suited figures wrestled with the tube, extending it farther outward to mate against the outer lock seal of the shuttle. After the tube had been pressurized, a man opened the shuttle door and entered the compartment. "Ok, this is the end of the line," he said. "Those of you who have zero-gee experience are requested to leave the shuttle now. All others will remain seated. There will be crew members along shortly to help the rest of you over to the Oppenheimer." A few of the passengers released their seat harnesses. "More than I expected," thought Quade, surprised. He himself, having been in space often had no trouble navigating in zero-gee, quickly making his way through the long boarding tunnel and over to the huge ship. Once on board he found himself in a narrow corridor with an airtight door at the far end. Set in the wall next to the door was a small card reader. Dr. Quade inserted his ID and the door cycled open. Quade stepped in through the open door and was confronted by a desk with a comp-terminal set into it. Seated at the desk was a large man, of light complexion and brown hair, with the look of middle age nearly passed. "Charles Joiner?," he asked. "I am Alex Dunkes, Prisoner liaison. You have been assigned to room L7. If you take this main corridor down to cross-corridor L and turn right, L7 will be near the end of the hall. You will find your sleeping quarters there. There will be a meeting in the colonists mess in two hours. Be there." Quade took that as a dismissal and pushed off down the corridor in search of his room. It turned out to be quite easy to find and inside he found a long narrow room with six zero-gee hammocks stretched across the two closest walls. He was the first one assigned here so he chose the farthest hammock from the door and slipped in, sealing the edges to insure that he stayed there. After a brief wait the door cycled open and Joe entered. "Charlie," Said Joe. "I hoped to get in with you. When I saw that you had your space legs I followed you out." They were interrupted by the door opening to admit Tom. "Seems like old home week," continued Joe. The room was soon filled, the last three arrivals were unknown although Charlie thought that he remembered them from the Earthside lounge. Neither of the three had ever been in space before so Charlie, Joe and Tom spent an amusing hour and a half teaching them the rudiments of zero-gee navigation. They finally had to call a halt to the impromptu aerobatics. "Meeting in ten minutes," announced Charlie finally. "Does anyone know the way to the mess?" "No," said Joe, "But I think that I can find out." He pushed off from the wall, aiming for the communications panel set near the door and the hand-grip beside it. There he keyed the button marked 'information'. "May I help you," said the communicator, with the definite metallic voice patterns of a comp. "Yes," said Joe. "How do I get to the colonists mess?" "Return to the main corridor and proceed aft. The corridor ends in an airtight door. That is the colonists mess," the computer directed with it's synthetic voice. Together the six of them left the room to join the procession in the main corridor heading for the mess. Most of the new arrivals had not had much practice in zero-gee which slowed traffic considerably. Experienced space hands would not have any trouble traveling in this size of a crowd, but due to inexperience the speed had dropped to a literal crawl. Charlie was forced to move slowly, one handgrip at a time toward the mess. Somewhere ahead of him was Joe, lost in the traffic jam. Tom had managed to stay near him but the other three were nowhere to be seen. Charlie finally arrived at the mess which turned out to look like a restaurateurs's worst nightmare. Tables and benches were attached to the floor, the ceiling and to two of the four walls. The back wall, opposite the entry door was given over entirely to small lockers. The access door opened on the forward wall which was the only bare surface in the room. A lot of the tables were already occupied but Charlie saw Joe wave to him while zealously guarding an empty table. As Charlie sailed over, Joe extended an arm, assisting him into one of the empty seats. He fastened his lap harness to insure that he stayed there. Tom, and then the other three quickly arrived to fill the small table. Soon all of the seats seemed to be filled and Alex Dunkes entered the room. All conversation stopped when he entered. Alex allowed his momentum to carry him across the room, grabbing a handgrip set between the lockers. He flipped himself around to face the men, using the handgrips to keep himself in place. "Ok, listen carefully," he said, speaking as a seasoned drill sergeant would to new recruits. "I am Alex Dunkes. And like all of you, I to am an immigrant, not one of the ship's crew. From now on you are no longer prisoners. You are colonists. Remember that. I left Earth twelve years ago and since then have worked my way upward in the hierarchy of the Mars Government. My job is simply to run the immigrants desk. I ride the ship to and from Earth solely for your benefit. And yes, I do get well-paid for it." A wave of laughter ran across the tightly-packed room. "The door by which you entered the ship, by the registration desk is the farthest forward you will be allowed to travel under normal circumstances. This room is the aft limit. Your entire world for the next two months will fall between those two boundaries. "If any of you are thinking of escape, think again. In the first place there is no place to go. We are presently in orbit around Earth and will soon be boosting out of orbit on our way to Mars. There are no space suits here for you so you wouldn't get very far. Second, there is no one among you qualified to operate this ship. We are completely at the mercy of our captors. "Once we reach Mars, your past is gone," he continued. "You are no longer prisoners, as I said earlier, but Mars colonists and as such, all forms of work are available to you. You will find that there are far more jobs than there are people to fill them. One thing that I want you to remember. No one ever returns to Earth. Not even me. I am completely restricted to the ship while we are in Earth orbit. Even the stations are off limits to me. Also, as I said before all forms of employment are open to you. Our highest official, the Governor of Mars, is also, like yourselves, an immigrant. "You will find that in order to move freely about the colonists section you will need your ID card. You will not be allowed in berthing quarters not assigned to you unless specifically invited in by one of the occupants and your cards will not open any door other than your own. At the end of each cross-corridor you will find a large community room. These rooms are open to all. There you will find a dispenser of suitable beverages, none of which, however are alcoholic." Another small wave of laughter crossed the room. "This room, the mess is where you will take all of your meals. We are on a rotational schedule. In your room below the communicator panel you will see a row of colored lights. The top light, the red one is the emergency alarm. If this light is on, you will not be allowed to leave your room. And if you are out of your room when the emergency alarm sounds, return immediately and seal yourselves into your hammocks. Once all of you are in the room the door will seal, insuring a completely airtight seal in the event of a loss of atmosphere. "The other eight lights are the shift lights. When the blue light is on you will be able to enter the mess. Your card will not open the door at other times. There will be three meals a day, each lasting one hour spaced four hours apart during your 'day'. There will be no meals served during your 'night'. These small lockers behind me are where you will get your meals. There is one locker for every man aboard. I suggest that you find your locker after this meeting so that at your next meal there will be less confusion. "In each of the community rooms you will find comp terminals connected to the ships library. Also in each of the berthing rooms is a vid, with an extensive library of contemporary programming. You are free to make use of all of them. If you have any problems I can be found in room A1. Are there any questions?" Throughout the room a number of hands were raised. Alex picked one at random. "When do we leave for Mars?," asked a young man on the other side of the room. "Loading of fuel will be completed in about three hours. The ship boosts shortly after that." Alex scanned the room, looking for more hands. All had been withdrawn. "Then that is all that I have. You are all free to go." 4 Major Caine looked up from his desk, interrupted by a quick knock on his door. "Come in," he ordered. The door opened and Lieutenant Hadley entered the large neat office. "May I have a word with you sir?," he asked. "Yes Lieutenant, come in and sit down," the major said, waving a hand toward one of the plush chairs in his large office. The young Lieutenant settled himself in a comfortable chair placed near the large ornate desk. "Sir," he began. "As you know I have been attempting to track down the audio and video records made by the police the other night at Dr. Quade's house." "Yes Lieutenant. Continue." "At first, sir, I thought that I was getting a runaround. I could find no one who remembered or acnowledged a call being answered by a heavy cruiser that night. I finally took matters into my own hands and personally checked the police records. "All of the heavy cruisers assigned to that precinct house were accounted for and could easily be proven to be nowhere near the area that night. I then checked on the whereabouts of every heavy cruiser assigned to the city. As there are only twenty-four of the machines here, it proved to be an easy task. There is no way that any one of them could have been there that evening. They are all accounted for. "Next, there is no record of a disconnect alarm on the house comp. I personally had the machine disconnected while waiting at the precinct house. No alarm was sounded. Sir, I am at a complete loss to explain any of it." "Is that all, Lieutenant?" "No sir, there is one other thing," he said nervously, pausing between sentence as if reluctant to continue. Finally he said, "Dr. Quade has disappeared." "Escaped?," asked Major Caine sharply, focussing his entire attention on Lieutenant Hadley. "No sir, not exactly. Just gone." The young man stopped briefly to order his thoughts before continuing. "Sir, it's as if the man was never here. There is no record of him arriving, no record of him in any of our detention cells and no record of him leaving. I have put out an interdepartmental order to all of our active operatives in an attempt to locate the man. But so far we have met with no success." "Who knew of his arrest, Lieutenant?" "Only those actively involved in the case here sir, but there is no telling where those police records from the other night have gone, or who may have seen them," he continued. "Therefore I sent out the locate order as a priority A7 operation." "Good. But if you had asked I would have authorized a higher priority. But the A7 will insure full discretion of our operatives." Major Caine turned to his personal comp, quickly entering his instructions. As his aide had said, there seemed to be no record of him on file. "Keep me informed of whatever you find." "Yes sir. I will report to you directly as events change." "Very good Lieutenant. I have much to do here, so please continue with your efforts," Major Caine said, dismissing the man. Two days later Lieutenant Hadley returned to Major Caine's office. "Sir," he said after being admitted and seating himself. "We found him." "Good," said Major Caine. "Whoever found him, see that he gets a commendation." "Actually, I found him, sir," he admitted, "by visually checking all of the records of the people who were brought into custody in the last week. They managed to change his records but they had to leave his picture unchanged, or his ID would have been useless." "Then I trust he is safely back into custody?" "No sir, not exactly," Lieutenant Hadley continued. "He is aboard the Oppenheimer!" "The Oppenheimer!," exclaimed Major Caine. "How the hell did he get there?" "I'm not exactly sure sir, but somehow a fictitious file was entered into our comp and Dr. Quade's file was removed. He was transferred to North Africa with the last of the Mars prisoners as a Charles Joiner, and was on the Oppenheimer when it left orbit seventy-two hours ago. I have technicians checking the programming in an attempt to discover how it was done. But whoever did it is good sir. Damned good." "Thank you, Lieutenant. I will look into it from here. Stay close though, I will need you for something later." "Seventy-two hours," he thought after Lieutenant Hadley had left his office. "A long lead, but perhaps not long enough." Two floors down Major Caine found Dr. Vincent in his office. "Efram," said Dr Vincent. "What brings you down to the working sections?" "Business this time, Paul," Admitted Major Caine, pulling up a chair. I need some information concerning the Oppenheimer. She left orbit seventy-two hours ago." "Yes. I am aware of her schedule, probably better than most here," said Dr. Vincent. "Exactly what do you need to know?" "Can she be returned to Earth and still make Mars rendezvous safely?" "No," he said quickly. "I don't even have to look that one up," continued Dr Vincent, surprised. "Since she is the last ship, the Mars window has closed for her. If she is brought back now we would have to wait till the next window opens. About eighteen months from now. Why?," he asked curiously. "There is a man on board that Earth Government wants back very badly," Said Major Caine cautiously. "What can be done about it?" "He must be very important if you are actually thinking of recalling the Oppenheimer," Dr. Vincent said, stopping for a moment, weighing possibilities. Finally he asked. "Can I ask who this man is?" Major Caine eyed Dr. Vincent carefully. He had known the man a long time and trusted him explicitly. "Dr. Charles Quade," he said finally." "Quade!," exclaimed Dr Vincent. "How in hell did he get aboard the Oppenheimer?" "It's a long story, Paul, and one that I better not get into now," Major Caine said. "I have already told you more than you really need to know, but I know that you can be trusted to keep this information to yourself. Now, what can we do about this problem?" "I don't know, but let's find out," Paul said, turning to his own desk comp and calling up all pertinent data on the Oppenheimer, and a list of all operational ships now in Earth orbit. "The Hermes is the fastest ship that we have at the present time," he explained. "She could rendezvous with the Oppenheimer with no trouble at all. But getting her back here would be another story. To be honest with you, the easiest solution is probably the longest. Let him go to Mars and return him on the first ship when it returns here in eighteen months." "I'm not sure that the Senate will accept that solution," said Major Caine. "Do we have any other options?" "Not many," admitted Dr Vincent reluctantly. "First you could recall the Oppenheimer. Not the solution I would recommend because Mars needs all of the supplies and equipment the Oppenheimer is carrying. "Two, we could send the Hermes out after him. She would have no problem catching the Oppenheimer but she has about a fifty-fifty chance of getting home with the fuel she can carry. And I don't think the Senate will risk Quade on those odds. Three, we can let him go on to Mars. If we dispatch the Hermes now, she will be waiting there for him when he arrives. We can then bring the Hermes back through a solar grav-whip and he can be here inside of a year." Dr. Vincent stopped suddenly and turned to his desk comp, entering a long string of commands. "Damn, Why didn't I think of this first?," he exclaimed. "The best solution however is to send him on out to the asteroid belt and then let him ride home on the Rock! Since he designed the beanstalk, why not let him take command of the project early?" Dr Vincent sat back in his chair and smiled. "In fact if you present it to the Senate properly you can make them think that it was the original plan. Since he is going to end up on the Rock anyway, I'm sure you can find a way of convincing them that this is to Earth's, and their best interests. Besides there are a lot of things he can do there now, to get the project ahead of schedule. So you really don't stand to lose very much at all. In fact we can expect to gain a great deal this way." "The Senate is not going to like the first three options," admitted Major Caine. "But I believe that the fourth suggestion will have to be the answer." He stopped speaking to think things through for a minute before continuing. "But before I speak to the Senate I have to find a senator who will back me up and then I must compose a believable statement to convince the rest of them that this was the original plan all along," he said to Paul. "The Senate naturally wants to keep him under close surveillance. In fact, he was in our custody four days ago before getting on board the Oppenheimer. He was to have gone to an area of maximum security where they would have been assured of his safety," admitted Major Caine. "Well, thank you," he said, standing and turning toward the door. "You've definitely given me something to think about." He stopped and turned back to face Dr Vincent from the doorway of his office. "Give me a call later, Paul," He said. "We must get together for dinner some night." "I'd like that Efram. But how about coming to my house instead? Janey has been asking about you and how you are always too busy to visit anymore." "Sure, I'd like that. And if I remember correctly, Janey is an excellent cook. Just be sure to remind her not to invite any of her single friends, okay?" "I believe that she is over that. She finally decided that you are capable of finding your own dates. Besides if she keeps throwing women at you she realizes that eventually you will stop coming over." "Ok then," Efram said with a wide grin. "Set a date and call my aide and have him put it on my calendar." "Sure thing Efram, I'll do it," Paul said smiling, as Major Caine let himself out of the office. Caine made his way back upstairs to his own office. He removed a few pieces of blank paper and carefully composed a message. He then called Lieutenant Hadley on wrist comp. When he arrived, the Major beckoned him over to the desk and handed him the message. "Lieutenant, I want to send this message to the commander of the military garrison on Deimos. Encode it using keys Alpha Alpha Nine Zero and send it out from the Moon using the big comm laser." Lieutenant Hadley quckly scanned the message, paling as he did so. "Sir," he began, but was cut off before he finished. "No one but the two of us here on Earth must know the contents of this message," he cautioned, not allowing Lieutenant Hadley to interrupt. "Deliver it in person to the commander of the comm laser on the Moon. Encode it here by hand and then destroy the original. Do not enter it into the comp as its security is still in question." "Do you know what you are doing sir?," asked Lieutenant Hadley. "I hope so, Lieutenant, since there is more at stake than you think there is. Much more. I don't have to tell you that if you deliver that message, your head is also in the noose." "I can see that, sir," he said, confused and not sure exactly what to do. One side of him told him to take it directly to the General Staff. But his loyalty told him to trust Major Caine and do what he wanted. One thing he quickly decided though, was that he needed more information before he made any other decisions. He stepped over to a chair and sat, surprising Caine by his boldness. "What is going on sir? I think that I have the right to know before I deliver this. If I deliver it that is." "The less you know right now the better. If I get caught all you really know now is that you're only a message carrier and not one of the planners. But, I can tell you that the Asteroids have been planning to break away from the Earth Government for quite some time now. And I plan to see that we are on the winning side!" "How can they be anything but dependent on Earth sir?," asked Lieutenant Hadley. "They get so much from us. If they try to secede, Earth can simply stop all shipments and in a year or less they will be begging for terms." "Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple, Lieutenant. Yes they lack adequate sources of food and water. But at the present time nearly all of our transuranics and a large percentage of other raw materials come from the belt while most of their food and manufactured goods come from us. What they do not realize yet is that the stocks of transuranics and metallic ores discovered on Mercury are vastly superior to those found in the belt. And they are now much easier to extract, making them far cheaper to acquire, using the new extraction techniques and refrigeration systems recently developed. In a few years we will be completely independent of the belt and all that they can supply. The belt colonies will soon discover that Earth simply cannot afford to keep them on as non-paying customers. And the Senate will have problems condemning that many people to death, although they will find that they have no other solution!" "Will Mars back the Earth, or the Asteroids?," asked Lieutenant Hadley, slightly dazed. He had trouble believing that the Senate would simply condemn that many people to a slow death that far from home. "A very good question, Lieutenant. Mars herself would of course back the Asteroids but Phobos and Deimos are simply too strong for her to resist. Mars will be forced to side with Earth." "But that does not explain why you are trying to start a war," said Lieutenant Hadley. "Lieutenant, there are still a number of things that you do not understand. The Asteroid colonies are too much of a drain on Earth's resources and the Senate will soon decide that they must be cut off once the Mercury mines are producing. Earth simply won't need them after that,"' said Major Caine. "But sir," objected Lieutenant Hadley. "What then will become of the colonists? Surely the Senate won't just leave them out there?" "That, Lieutenant is the rough part. By starting a war, the Senate will not hesitate to do what it has to do. Without a war to color the prejudices of the Senate, too many of the people in power will fight to help them. And that, Lieutenant, is what the Earth simply cannot afford." "Why?," asked Lieutenant Hadley softly, the truth of the matter finally hitting him. "That is a bit harder to explain. It all revolves around the money supply. Not the lack of it but too much of it." "Too much sir?," he asked in amazement. "How is that possible?" "Well, basically, most working people today have enough money to buy everything that they need to live and still have a little left over for luxuries. What would happen if one hundred people have enough money for a new vid terminal but there are only ten available, because the material for other ninety went to the moon to open a new factory or perhaps to build a new space ship for Mars? The money is available but the goods are not." "I think that I can understand that, sir," admitted Lieutenant Hadley. "There's more though. What if the proprietor of the store realizes that there is a shortage. He knows that he can double the price of the terminals and still be assured of selling them. He knows that the people will pay for them because there is no guarantee that any more will arrive. What we now have is the buying power of the money dropping by fifty percent. "This, Lieutenant is what is happening all over the globe. The Mars and Asteroid colonies are draining off that much material and manpower. Both food and high©tech manufactured items that they as yet cannot produce enough of. Add to that the dwindling resources here on Earth and the fact that we receive most of them from the asteroids now. Earth has a problem. And one that has no easy solution." "Surely it cannot be that bad, can it?," asked Lieutenant Hadley. "That," said Major Caine, "is a very simplified version of what is happening and there are a lot more factors involved. But tell me, what is your present annual salary?," asked Major Caine. "About one hundred thousand credits a year," said the Lieutenant. "Why?" "And what was a Lieutenant earning five years ago?," continued Major Caine. "About twenty thousand credits," he admitted. "His money then was worth about the same amount as yours is today, and you say that it cannot be that bad? Just wait, it will get worse, much worse. Earth will simply have to pull back and consolidate. True we still need the raw material from the belt but at this time they far too expensive. And added to that, if the Senate decides to bring all of the colonists home? Think of what that will do to the unemployment situation since there are not enough jobs to go around now. What will nearly a million new people do to the economy? Therefore, if the answer is abandoning the belt and its colonists, and then building up Mercury, which is a much cheaper source of materials, then, believe me Lieutenant, that is what will be done." He stopped and picked up the message and handed back it to Lieutenant Hadley. "Enough of this though. Please go and get this message sent." "Yes sir," said Lieutenant Hadley as he left the office, deciding then and there to continue to back Major Caine, wherever it might lead him. "It had all started a number of months ago," thought Major Caine once Lieutenant Hadley had departed. He had received an invitation from his uncle to attend a party in his mountain chalet. "Efram, I'm glad you could make it," his uncle had said, meeting him in front of the large estate house. His limo had been directed over to a grassy lot filled with similar machines, and had he been able to see the private airfield behind the house he would have noted the large number of private aircraft belonging to the distinguished visitors from farther away. The party promised to be a who's who of planetary dignitaries, and Major Caine was at a loss to explain his presence. His uncle escorted him into the front room where they stopped briefly at the top of a short flight of stairs to accept drinks from a liveried waiter stationed there. "Actually," his uncle continued when they were well away from any possible ears. "You are here by invitation. One other than mine, that is.Бx x A ББ Р Р F БMajor Caine masked his confusion carefully. "By whom?," he asked simply. "Later," came the cryptic response. "Just be sure that you are in the blue room at six o'clock tonight." The older man stopped walking and turned to face his nephew. "Believe me, son, this is important." Major Caine nodded but said nothing as his uncle left to rejoin his guests. He tried to enjoy the party but quickly realized that he simply did not fit into the distinguished company and he remained near an outside wall, attempting to stay inconspicuous. Finally six o'clock approached and he quietly made his exit, arriving at the bedroom known as the blue room by a rather circuitous route. He was familiar with the chalet and this room in particular because this was the room that he always stayed in when he visited here. At a few minutes after six, the room's outer door opened and his uncle entered., "Sir," he began, only to be silenced by a sharp gesture. A quick silent inspection insured that the room was empty. He then removed a small device from his pocket and made another slow inspection of the room. Major Caine recognized it as a portable listening device detector. Then, with a conspiratorial smile on his face, his uncle stepped out the room. The interconnecting door from the adjoining room opened and the Chairman of the World Senate stepped in. "Sir, I..." Major Caine began, jumping to his feet. "Sit, please," Mahjid Bey interrupted, sliding a second chair over close to the one Major Caine had selected. "Efram," he continued, after sitting. "May I call you that?" He asked. Before Major Caine could speak, Mahjid Bey quickly continued. "I needed to talk with you quietly, unofficially and I don't wish anyone to learn of this meeting." His English was flawless, spoken with a British accent and he spoke three other languages fluently. He had been born into an upper class Indian family and received his primary and secondary schooling in Britain, attending Oxford after completing his secondary schooling at Eton. He had finished his studies at the very exclusive and prestigious Switzerland Academy of Sciences. "I do not know how long I will be able to stay away from the party without being missed, so let me come right to the point," he said, immediately after sitting. "Are you familiar with the economic situation of the Earth today?" Seeing the puzzled look on Major Caine's face he continued. "I thought not. When you get a chance look into it. But let me say this. The drain on the economy by the Mars colony and the Asteroid belt is enormous. Unemployment is rising, and the value of money is dropping. Factories are closing due to lack of raw materials and more and more people are falling below the median poverty level. Financially the economy is a mess. "I do, however have a plan. One that nearly all of my fellow Senators most assuredly would not agree with. And that is what I need you for. I have been aware of what you have been doing with Internal Security for some time now." Mahjid Bey raised his hand, stifling Major Caine's protests. "If I had disagreed with your policies you would now be under arrest, not here today meeting with me. There are times when a leader needs an organization capable of operating outside of the government's stated policies." Major Caine knew by that statement that if anything went wrong, he, not Mahjid Bey would be thrown to the wolves. "Have you ever heard of a man named Dr. Charles Quade?" Again Mahjid Bey quickly continued, not waiting for Major Caine to speak. "Theoretical chemist specializing in synthetic polymer chains. His researches led to the recent breakthroughs in ultrastrong molecular filament synthesis." "The beanstalk," exclaimed Major Caine, beginning to catch on. "Exactly," answered Mahjid Bey. The beanstalk can be the answer to the entire crisis. At the moment I have the majority of the Senate behind me, but as the economy worsens I may loose that support. This then, is what I want you to do." "The Beanstalk," thought Major Caine as he rode homeward in the back of his limo. Actually not much more than a superlong, 30,000 mile cable. It would start from an Asteroidal rock in geosynch orbit, extend down through the atmosphere and terminate somewhere on the surface of the Earth. The new ultrastrong molecular filaments made the whole project possible. Economically it was the best way to lift materials out of the gravity well of Earth. But expensive. Very expensive. It would make obsolete the fleet of shuttles now serving Leo base and eventually Leo base itself. But until it was operating it too would be another huge drain on the Earth's already strained economy. "Yes," thought Major Caine. "We definitely need it, but not in the way most people think we do." 5 "The belief that interstellar travel is romantic," thought Charley, "is wrong." He had fallen into the standard shipboard routine of the three day week. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. The happenings of two days ago were long forgotten and hazed with all of the other previous gray days. The day after tomorrow was too far away to think about and today was turning into another day just like yesterday, with tomorrow promising to be the same. Randomly the red alert lights would flash and the emergency alarm would sound. At first this was a very interesting time. However, the builders had had the foresight to paint the floors and ceilings, if they could be called that, different colors. The passengers soon agreed on the convention, movement aft and to the port side, blue and movement forward and to the starboard side, yellow. This effectively split the passages into two layers of opposing traffic, simplifying movement about the colonists sections. After a number of drills, they all got quite adept at moving to their respective berths. The only thing that really broke the monotony of the trip was the nightly card games. By the time the ship reached Mars orbit, Charlie was losing. In fact, he owed nearly the GNP of the entire solar system to the various members of the group. He was thankful that they had agreed that all debts were cancelled when they crossed Mars orbit. One afternoon, Charlie was seated in the community room closest to their compartment and he was at present the only person making use of the room. The end of the trip was near at hand and most of the other passengers had stopped using the lounge, preferring to stay in their compartments and watch the vid. He was engrossed in a text from the ship's library when he was disturbed by the opening of the door. "Joe," he said, looking up from the terminal. "You're a bit early for the game, aren't you? It's not for another hour or so yet." By tradition they did not play cards until well after the last meal of the day. Joe slipped into one of the seats near the terminal and turned to face Charlie. "Have you given any thought to what you will do when we land on Mars?," he asked. "A little," replied Charlie. "I know a bit about chemistry and physics," he admitted. "I'll get by." "Know how to pilot a ship?" Joe asked, the bluntness of his question catching Charlie off guard. They both realized that he was breaking an unspoken rule about asking about someone's past. Charlie was reluctant to answer at first but these last two months together had told him intuitively that Joe could be trusted. "No," he answered finally. "Why?" "I do," admitted Joe quietly. "Coffee?" He asked. "Uh, yeah, sure, said Charlie, mentally shifting gears and thankful for the brief respite to gather his thoughts. Joe jumped over to the coffee dispenser, deftly catching a handgrip and swinging himself to a stop. He removed two bulbs from the storage locker, one black with two sugars and one light, no sugar and placed them in the heating unit. When they were done and the annunciator had chimed he tossed the black one to Charlie. "Where did you learn to pilot?," asked Charlie cautiously. "By accident, actually," said Joe, showing no reluctance to speak of his past. "First at Leo and then the Gagarin and finally at the Armstrong." "How did you get picked for space?," asked Charlie curiously. "I understand that it is a very hard field to break into." It started in Rome. I was finishing up a degree in physics and had been accepted at Oxford to study math. I was writing my disertation on zero©gee construction techniques. Although I admit I used my family to pull a few strings and get me up to the Gagarin, I was on my own once I reached there. I met most of the construction crew and convinced them that I could do a better job if I knew how the sleds worked. After that it was nothing but my own ability that helped me master them. After Oxford, getting assigned back to the Gagarin was easy with my experience and training." "I can understand that," said Charlie., "You have a masters in physics and tried for a BS in math?" "Almost. Finished my masters in physics and was trying for another in math," admitted Joe with a smile. "Not much book learning huh?" Charlie said with a laugh. "No wonder I lost so much to you. You are a lot smarter than I am." "Bull shit," Joe shot back at Charlie. "I can remember cards and you had many hands where you threw away good cards to accept poorer ones. You, Charlie, have something to hide." "Ok, maybe you do know a little math then," said Charlie with a smile. "Where did you go to school?," Joe asked. "Physics and Chemistry at the University of California, Berkeley. Math at Princeton, more chemistry and physics at MIT. Then to Oxford for more math and finally at the Switzerland Academy of Sciences." Charlie stopped to sip his coffee, eyeing Joe carefully, trying to determine if he had gone too far. "Jesus Christ," said Joe quietly. "Just what does that all add up to, anyway?" "Doctorates in chemistry and physics," started Charlie, deciding to trust Joe completely. "Masters in math and a BS in electrical engineering somewhere along the road just for fun," he finished. Joe said nothing. For the first time since they had known each other, he was speechless. "The belt, that's where I want to go," said Joe finally, breaking the silence. "Mars is still a prison. A large prison but nonetheless a prison. The asteroid belt is the only place in the system that there is true freedom." "I agree with you, Joe," answered Charlie carefully. "I too wish to get out to the belt," he admitted. "I may not have your qualifications but I am sure that there will be a job out there for me to fill." "Personally, Charlie," Joe said with a smile, "I think you will get out there before I do. I'll look you up when I get there, Ok?" "And I too will look for you," said Charlie warmly. "You have been a good friend these last two months and I would like to maintain that friendship." "It's a deal, then," raising his coffee in a salute. "To good friends meeting again," he said, taking a last sip of coffee. Charlie returned to his compartment and slipped into his hammock after setting the alarm on the comp panel. His mind drifted back to the beginning of the space age. He knew that a lot of work had been done before the turn of the century but little of it had lasted. He had been to the Challenger memorial in Houston and saw the original orbiter, the Enterprise and the Atlantis on exhibit there, but the real space age had started with the construction of Leo base. It's original name had been Challenger station but that name had never really caught on and everyone referred to it by the shorter name, Leo, for Low Earth Orbit base. It had finally opened up the lunar surface for mining and once the big lunar mass-drivers were operating a lunar orbital station had been constructed. From there the first of the three big geosynch stations had been built. The Shepherd being started after the lunar orbital station had been completed. The lunar wheel had finally been moved out into Geosynch and named the Gagarin, for the first man in space, shortly after the Shepherd was started. It had been built on the plans of the Gagarin but with a few necessary changes. Last came the Armstrong, a much larger and more modern station. While the Gagarin and the Shepherd were originally single wheel stations and were later expanded to two, the Armstrong was designed with four huge wheels, all interconnected by a common axle and radial tunnels out on the rim of the wheels. Charlie had been to the Armstrong many times, never failing to be awed by the sheer beauty of the station. As soon as the Shepherd was under construction, the Gagarin had been moved, then becoming the headquarters for the push out to Mars and the Asteroid belt. Earth knew that it had to have the unlimited wealth of resources to be found out in the belt since the lunar mines were severely limited. Bases had been set up on Phobos and Deimos, from which expeditions had been launched to tap the Martian polar ice caps. There, domes had been built and, using water from the ice, Hydroponic farms had been set up. With a better supply of food and water, the two moon bases could be enlarged. Today Phobos was being used as a scientific observatory and a penal colony observation platform. Her high orbital speed and tidal-locked orbit made her ideal for this purpose. Deimos, on the other hand had been much more built up until the entire surface of the moon was taken over by ore processing plants and shipyards. The Deimos shipyards had built the Oppenheimer and her two sister ships. Slowly the domes on Mars had grown, increasing their production but still they could not hope to supply nearly all that was required by a hungry belt. As the population off of Earth increased, Earth felt the drain more and more on her own meager resources. During this time the Asteroid belt was being built up. At first, most of the materials they processed stayed in the belt where it was needed most, but soon more and more found it's way back to Mars, to build up the capacity of the shipyards there. It was only in the last decade or so that shipments were being made to Earth. Ceres, the largest asteroid was the seat of the Belt government but spread through the belt, other large asteroids had been colonized. Today Mars could count on receiving shipments from all quadrants of the belt. But Earth was hampered by the distance from the belt and the fact that for most of the time Mars was simply out of reach. So Mars acted as a stockpile, receiving the metallic ores and minerals to be processed, awaiting the arrival of the three big ships. And when they did come, they were loaded with as much as could be strapped and bolted on to be sent back to Earth when again she was within reach. Finally the long two month journey ended and the Oppenheimer entered Mars orbit. She was greeted by a number of small tractor ships who altered her orbit to match with Deimos. After achieving the proper orbital position, large cables were unrolled and lifted, to attach to the stress-points of the large ship. Then, balanced by the slight Deimos gravity and the tractor engine power, she was slowly winched down to the surface of the small moon, finally arriving in her docking cradle. Close by lay the Einstein and the Neils Bohr. Beyond them could be seen the half completed framework of the fourth and as yet unnamed ship. Telescopic tunnels were then extended to mate with the outer lock seals of the ship. After pressurization the hatches were finally opened, allowing passengers and crew alike to leave the big vessel. As soon as the hatches had been opened, two men wearing the distinctive uniform of Internal Security entered the ship to talk with Alex Dunkes. They found him almost immediately at the registration desk surrounded by colonists waiting to be allowed to leave the ship. Together the three pushed their way through the crowd to room A1 where Alex keyed the door open for the two men. "You have a prisoner in board listed as Charles Joiner," stated the larger of the two men. They both carried themselves like the professional policeman that they were, giving the feeling of hard competence and the ability to take care of themselves. "No, said Alex quickly. I have a colonist named Joiner, but no prisoner. Why?" "A mistake has been made," the man continued. "He is to be turned over to us immediately." "That may be difficult," Alex began. "There is no way of knowing exactly where he is now. And I am not permitted to leave the area of the desk until all colonists have disembarked. However if I may suggest, if you wait here by the registration desk you can pick him up when he passes by. And since this is the only exit, he has to come this way." Alex was reluctant to cooperate with the two men but knew that the last thing he wanted to do was go against the wishes of Internal Security. If he had been out at the belt though, it would have been another story. "That will have to do then," said the officer reluctantly. They all left the room, to return to the registration desk, Alex resuming his seat and the two policemen taking up positions near the exit door. They both reached into an inside pocket and each removed a photograph of Joiner, although they both knew that appearances could be changed in two months. Near the desk, Tom, who had stationed himself there early quietly slipped away and headed back to his compartment. There he found both Charlie and Joe, the other three men who shared the compartment having already left to join the crowds in the corridors. "Charles," said Tom. "Portside lounge. I have to talk with you. Now and alone." Charlie shot Joe a puzzled look before following Tom out into the corridor and into the lounge. Tom switched on one of the terminals, using it to lock the lounge door. He then removed both of this shoes. Charlie said nothing, already astonished at the fact that the doors could be locked but simply watched Tom in confusion. A quick twist of the heels of his shoes revealed two hollowed-out compartments containing a number of small packets. "Welcoming committee at the door," he said simply. "Internal Security." Charlie nodded, saying nothing, engrossed in what Tom was doing. The contents of two the packets turned out to be chemicals for changing the color of hair. Tom's hair was quickly colored to match the silvery-gray of Charlie's while his own was darkened to match the deep brown of Tom's own hair. Two more of the packets changed skin color. Charlie's skin was darkened while Tom's was lightened. Tom then reached into his mouth and removed two cheek inserts, handing them to Charlie. Removing them gave Tom's round face a long lean look. "I hope that you enjoy them as much as I did these last two months," Tom said with a grin. Be thankful that you only have to wear them a few days and not months like I did." Next came a small foam case, containing contact lenses. "These will fool the retina-print cameras," he explained. "Again, only a few days until you are safely aboard ship to the asteroids." Lastly, the two men exchanged Id cards. "Good luck, doctor," Tom said. "I seem to have a date with Internal Security." Charlie said nothing, thinking that it was Tom and not himself that needed luck. Charlie watched as he unlocked the door and made his way over to compartment L7. In an exact copy of Charlie's voice, he heard Tom say, "let's see what's out on Deimos, Joe. I've been on board too long now." Tom knew the risks of the operation but also knew the necessity of those risks. Charlie suspected the risks and followed the pair out toward the registration desk, keeping a distance between himself and Tom. "That's him, officers," called out Alex after Tom had run Charlie's Id card through the reader. They stepped in quickly, separating the pair and allowing Joe to continue on through the corridor in confusion, but knowing that he could do nothing against Internal Security. "Charles Joiner," the larger officer announced. "You must come with us, he stated, allowing no objections as he and the other officer each grabbed an arm and hustled him off of the ship and into Deimos. Joe allowed the press of bodies to carry him along the access tube and down below the surface of the moon. All of the living quarters were below the surface to decrease the thermal losses of the colony. They were all led to nearby quarters to await shuttles down to the red Martian surface. During this time Charlie carefully avoided Joe in order to maintain the masquerade. The two officers took their charge down through the military headquarters of Deimos. They stopped at an empty office, Putting Tom inside while they remained outside. "So where the hell are they?," asked the smaller of the two. "Don't ask me, the larger said. "Call in and find out." "Ok, stay here, I'll be right back." He left in search of a comm terminal while the second officer stayed outside. Tom took advantage of the distraction, sitting so that he could see the one officer still outside. He snapped off the heels of his shoes, removing two inches of height. He then palmed a small tube of chemicals in his hand and dropped the two heels into the waste chute. He expected that the two men would not notice the height difference, since they had already accepted him as Dr. Quade. He next popped out his contacts and swallowed them. The whole operation took less than twenty seconds. Tom had only a short wait before two new men arrived, followed closely by the first guard. "Ok, we'll take him from here," one said to the security guards. "So where the hell did the two of you go?," asked a guard. "Coffee, and then we got hung up by the C.O.," he explained., And now we are behind schedule and have to hurry. The C.O. delayed the lift just for him." Tom stood and waited while the two ship's crewmen unlocked the door and then ushered him outside. "The ship's at lock eleven," said one of the crewmen. "Are you two coming along?" "Yeah, we have to make sure that he actually gets aboard and the ship lifts with him." As expected neither man noticed that Tom was two inches shorter. It was but a short walk to lock eleven and once there the two security officers officially turned their charge over to the two crewmen. They watched as Tom entered the small ship, remaining at the lock until the ship had actually lifted from Deimos. "Passenger seating is in through that hatch and down the corridor to your left," one explained. "Fresher is to the right. Ship lifts in about five minutes and we will go up at about a tenth of a gee so you don't have to worry about strapping down," he explained. "You are on your own now, we have to get aloft to our lift stations." Both crewmen then swarmed up a ladder, heading upward toward the bridge. Tom followed the directions, stopping first in the fresher. Here he broke the small vial of chemicals and spread them through his hair, removing the silver-gray and returning it to it's own natural brown color. Next he stripped off the mask of syntho-flesh covering his face. He then rolled it into a small tight ball and held it under the hot-air dryer vent, heating it into a sticky texture. He then used it to reshape his nose until he looked very little like the man who had entered the ship's lock. Located outside the wall was a standard comm terminal. He opened the unit expertly and carefully removed a microchip. He then reached into his mouth and removed his false bridge. One of the teeth was then removed and he pulled off the cap. Inset into the bottom of the cap was a row of pins that exactly fitted the empty socket. He entered a code on the com terminal keyboard and in less than five seconds the memory dump was completed. He removed the now empty data chip and replaced it in the bridge before returning it to his mouth. He then replaced the original chip and closed the comm terminal. He accessed the comp and requested a list of crew and passengers, then nodding and smiling before clearing the screen and entering the passenger compartment. Now, according to the comp, the special prisoner they had picked up no longer existed. In his place was Abe Fortas, an astrogation specialist on his way out to the Rock to assist in bringing it back to Earth. The two crewmen, the only two on board who had actually seen him had been very well-paid for their efforts. Dr. Quade had finally disappeared. 6 Slowly the colonists had been divided up into shuttle-sized groups and dropped down to Mars to be distributed among the domes. The trip down to the surface was a fast but otherwise uneventful drop. Mars had two large ship-ports, one by the northern icecap and one by the southern. What little traffic took place between the hemispheres was accomplished using the shuttles, the colonists finding it safer, faster and easier than building long roads. Some roads however had been built. A long road circumnavigated each icecap, linking all of the domes together. Inside each dome, most of the available space was taken up by the large algae vats and what space was left over was divided between housing and farming, each dome raising fresh vegetables and fruits of various kinds. Each dome had picked a specialty and trading their surpluses from dome to dome along the belt roads. Each dome from the beginning had tried to supply all of it's own food requirements by growing and trading and all of them had achieved self-sufficiency long ago. But they all were burdened by the requirements of the asteroid belt, sending out all of their excess produce to try to feed the hungry miners. The dome housing the Martian government always received the most desirable of the new colonists. A list of job priorities was kept and continually updated and all of the new colonist's qualifications were matched and then each was assigned a priority number, the top colonists arriving on the first shuttles down to the surface. Charlie, hidden in his new guise as Abe Fortas was on the first shuttle down to the surface. "Come in, come on in," said Lawrence Brady, the current governor of Mars. He was seated at a large synthowood desk that took up the bulk of the room in the small office. The small room was paneled in strips of contrasting synthowood and behind the large ornate desk was a large picture built into the wall to look like a window. It currently showed a view of an Earth beach scene. White clouds drifted slowly across an unusually blue sky. A few sea gulls could be seen winging swiftly over the surface of the rolling surf. There were no people in sight but tracks could be seen on the pale sand. If Charlie sat there long enough he would probably see one or two wander through. The Governor saw him watching the picture. "That's a compix," he explained "Very expensive but well worth it," he explained. "Everyone on Mars wants one and there are a few small ones available occasionally, but this one is the largest." Charlie was familiar with them although he himself had never owned one. On Earth they were not really expensive and owned mostly by the middle-class population. They could be programmed to hold dozens of different scenes and the owner could change from one to another as his mood changed. "How did you get it?," he asked curiously, wondering why that much money was allowed to be tied up in art. "That's the beautiful part," Governor Brady explained gleefully. "It was part of a scam dreamed up by the bank, and I, or actually the governor before me, beat them at their own game." "What did you do?," continued Charlie. "The way the scam worked was, the bank would sell it to a colonist for a fair price. At least a fair price out here on Mars. Then later, when their debt ratio rose too high, the bank would seize it and resell it, applying the sale price against his debt. They in essence kept selling the same picture to anyone who had the cash at the time to buy it. In the four years they had it, they made a lot of money from it." "So how did you beat them?," pushed Charlie, interested in the outcome of the story. "My predecessor bought it with his first years salary," the governor continued, enjoying any chance to show off to the newcomer. "He then donated it to the Martian Government. It now is not owned by any one individual and there is now no one to seize it from. The bank was rather upset when it happened, and have since learned their lesson. So far they have not imported any more of them to continue the scam. "Anyway, that scene is one of my favorites," he continued. "It reminds me of the beach where I used to vacation as a small boy. Sometimes I like to sit here, thinking that this is a beach cottage and I am back on Earth again." He said nothing for a moment, lost in his own daydreams. "But sit," he said at last, bringing himself out of his reverie. "Make yourself comfortable." Charlie sat in one of the chairs while the governor continued. "I shall miss it when I finally leave office," he explained. "Although I have been unopposed in the last three elections." Charlie raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Unopposed?," he asked in confusion. "Here on Mars," explained the Governor, "the only time anyone runs against an elected official is if the population is dissatisfied with the way he is doing his job. We tend to leave the status quo if the system is working." "But I thought that the system wasn't working," Charlie shot back. "No, actually it works rather well. And everyone realizes that there is little that can be done about the financial systems set up against them. Which means that very little is blamed on the governor's office." "So what you are saying is that it is difficult to do a bad job?" "Yes," said Governor Brady with a wide smile. "My predecessor lost his job by overindulging in what few luxuries we get from Earth and got reassigned to one of the Mars freighters. I inherited the job because I was the second in command. And here, the one person that has to run for office is the man that already holds that office. So far, no one wants it bad enough to try for it." "But it doesn't sound as if you are unhappy," said Charlie. "No, no I actually like being the Governor and the advantages of the office. But enough of that," he said finally. "Let me get to the reason you are here, Abe. I don't see too many people but I do like to interview the top colonists, the ones who we feel are qualified for any of the few really important jobs. The cream of the crop, so to speak." "I'm not sure that I understand," Charlie answered with a puzzled voice. "You see, we keep a list of jobs that are available and balance the colonists qualifications against it. The top matches are brought down first. That is why you and the others were on the first shuttle. "So what you are doing then," said Charlie with a smile, "is offering me a job?" "Yes, A job. That's exactly what I am doing," Governor Brady said excitedly. "Look, there is an ore processing lab on Ceres that collects crystalline formations. Locked up inside a lot of them are a number of rare-earth elements. We are trying to develop methods of extracting those elements from the crystalline matrices. What we need is an easier and cheaper way to do the extracting. I believe that with your background it is a job that you can handle. As a mining engineer with a chemistry background it seems to me that it is just what you were trained for." Charlie smiled to himself. Whoever had set up this personna had done their homework well. It was doubtful that the governor was a member of the inner circle of conspirators. He probably knew nothing of what was really going on or who he really was. "So what do you think?," asked Governor Brady, taking Charlie's silence as a sign that he was thinking it over. "Yes, it sounds like something I would like to try. And you say it is out on Ceres," he asked. "How would I get there?" "Yes, yes, Ceres. And as for transportation there is a ship in now from the asteroids and she goes by the name of the Runner. She dropped off a load of platinum ores on Deimos and is being loaded now with supplies to go back. She does have a limited amount of room for passengers and she leaves tomorrow afternoon. Mars time," the Governor added. "And, if you want, you can be on her." "Ok," said Charlie laughing. "You got yourself a chemist." "Then it's settled," said the governor, keying his com panel. "Kati," he said, speaking into the unit, "would you come in here please?" A tall blonde woman entered the small office. Pretty, although the rigors of a hard life could be seen lined in her face. "We're all done here," Governor Brady announced. "Would you be so kind as to show him to his quarters?" Charlie stood and followed her out into the small antechamber just outside Governor Brady's office, where he was met by a young woman. "Judy here," said Kati, "has volunteered to show you around the dome. Unless you object, that is," she added quickly. Judy stepped forward, sticking out a small hand. "Hi," she said in a soft pleasant voice as she shook Charlie's hand. "No," said Charlie with a smile. "I don't mind at all." Judy was a young woman, small, not far into her twenties and weighing no more than fifty kilo's, Charlie guessed. But she had a lot of curves packed into her small frame. "Come on," she said impatiently. "How about a quick tour of the dome?" "Sure," said Charlie as he followed her out into the main corridor. "This hall," she explained, "runs all of the way around the dome. All of the offices and living quarters back up against the outer wall while the center of the dome is taken up by our farm." As they walked along the hall, Judy pointed out various features of the dome. "This is the dining facility," she explained, pointing out one of the larger rooms. "And the living quarters are farther along the hall." She then opened a door on the inner wall of the hall, opening out onto a huge open area. "This is the farm," she said, leading him into a small orchard. "We have lights here to simulate the Earth's natural light to help everything grow. We raise peaches, carrots and spinach here." The trees were small but bore evidence of loving attention. "We are now entering early spring so it is too early to see the buds," she continued. "But later when they flower we all will help pollinate them. "No bees?," asked Charlie. "No insects at all," she said. "At least not in this dome. We do have some on order but we haven't gotten them yet. The carrots and spinach are easier to tend to," she finished. On the far side of the orchard were arrays of tanks. Hundreds of them, as far as Charlie could tell. "Those are the Algae tanks," she said. "They take up most of the space in the dome and yield seventy-five to eighty percent of our crop." She led him past the tanks and out into a small cultivated area of recently turned earth. "This is where we grow our carrots and spinach." Beyond the small plot Charlie could see similar small plots in various stages of growth. "Since they are not a recurring plant, we can grow them year-round and be assured of having fresh vegetables all the time. The surplus," she said. "We trade around the belt road to other domes for their surpluses." "What is your job here?," asked Charlie curiously. "I'm a hydroponics technician," she said. "I'm not really very important yet but then, that's why I usually get assigned to showing newcomers around." They stepped through another door and out into the main corridor. "These are the living spaces," she explained, indicating the large number of doors set in niches in the outside wall. Charlie followed her across the hall and through one of the doors. It led into a small room that Charlie assumed was hers, due to the feminine touches throughout the room. "You can use the 'fresher' in through that door," she said, pointing to a small enclosed cubicle. Once inside, Charlie found a real shower. He quickly stripped off his clothing and stepped into the stall, planning on enjoying the first real shower he had had since leaving Earth. The low gravity of Mars caused a lot more mist than he was accustomed to but he quickly adjusted to it. The door of the 'fresher' cubicle opened briefly and a small lithe form slipped into the shower with him. "Doctor Quade," Judy said. "I am your contact here," she said to Charlie's surprise. "The shower assures privacy," she continued. "I have never found any listening devices in my room yet, but why take unnecessary chances?" Charlie was having trouble keeping his attention focussed on what she was saying but reluctantly tore his gaze from her young body. "You must be aboard the cargo ship tomorrow and on your way safely to the belt before the switch is discovered. Everyone aboard will be friends, and once aboard you can relax your disguise." "One thing," asked Charlie. "Has anything happened to the real Abe Fortas?" "I don't know," admitted Judy. "They only tell me what I need to know and no more. But I hope someone is taking care of that problem. He knew the risks before accepting the assignment. In fact, we all know the risks. The one thing that we are all in agreement on is that in this case the end justifies the means. As a result we are all willing to face death because otherwise we are all dead anyway. This way at least, we are trying to protect ourselves." "True," admitted Charlie, admiring her patriotic attitude. "We are all here for the same thing. But you don't mind risking everything on trust alone?," he continued. "Not knowing what the overall plans are?" "We all know that the belt is on our side and that the Earth Senate is not. We trust the belt when they say that they will do whatever is necessary to protect us. Earth has not given us any real assurance of protection. And as result of that we no longer feel obligated to Earth, at least no more than they can force us to be," her voice raising in passion to compete with the noise that the shower was making. "Calm down," said Charlie soothingly, noticing with pleasure that her nipples became as red as her cheeks did. "Will I be the only passenger aboard the ship?" "That I do not know," Judy said, after her breathing had settled down to normal. "Although I believe I am not the only operative here, I know of no others. I get all my instructions from a trader when he comes in from the belt," she said as she picked up a bar of soap. "While we are here we might as well take advantage of the situation," she said, lathering up Charlie's body." "One more thing that I am curious about," he asked. "How can you afford the luxury of real showers if water is so precious here?" "Everything is recycled," she said. All of the water from the showers go directly to the purifiers. "And the one thing that we have plenty of is power. Every dome is supplied by sixteen square miles of photocells, laid out in the desert south of the dome. "Sixteen miles?," asked Charlie surprised. "Isn't that a bit excessive?" "No," she said. "Each dome must have enough capacity to supply all of it's own power requirements plus that of both domes on each side of it. That way we are always assured of power, no matter what disaster should occur." "Smart," admitted Charlie, admiring the engineer that laid out the system. "That is what is holding back the development of other domes. The photocell farm must be completed before work is started on the dome itself." "I see," charlie said. "One more question if I may. How long would it take to check someone out? A man I met on the trip out would probably be a good asset." "Quite a while," answered Judy. "The only way I could do that is to pass the message through my contact and then back to Earth. Since I won't see him for a while now, we are talking about two Earth years at least, and maybe more. Why?" "A friend," said Charlie. "I met him on the trip out and I got the feeling that he could be trusted." "If he isn't on our lists already, there is nothing that I can do," she said, scrubbing Charlie's back. When she was done, she turned him around to face her, her gaze wandering approvingly up and down his naked body, and noticed that he was not having much success keeping his mind off of her body. "We can talk later," she said, reaching up and kissing him passionately. "I will take you down to the shuttle pad in the morning," she said as they stood by the side of Judy's bed. "Tonight however you can sleep here with me, if you wish." Charlie's grin told her as much as his words did. "I'd like that if you don't mind sharing your bed with an old man," he told her. "I think I could get to enjoy it," she teased. "If you think you could keep up with me, that is. Charlie showed her just how well he could keep up with her and later that evening the pair wandered down to the cafeteria to eat, finally ending up back at her rooms for the night. The next morning Judy escorted him to the outer airlock where there was a transport waiting. "This is the morning bus," she explained. "It travels between the two closest domes and the shuttleport daily, and farther when needed." She gave him a quick kiss before continuing. "Just tell the driver where you want to go and he will get you there." Nothing more was said between the two of them as Charlie entered the airlock. He cycled through to the access tunnel connecting the dome to the bus and gave gave her a quick wave goodbye through the window. She waved back then turned and disappeared back along the corridor, dissapearing from sight while Charlie made his way carefully over to the bus and found himself a seat near the driver. He didn't look back as the bus pulled away from the dome and out onto the north polar highway. This shuttle was completely different from the one that had lifted him from Earth. It was set in a shallow pit with the engine module down below sight. A platform had been extended across the open area of the pit to the body of the ship. Since Mars gravity was about one fifth that of Earth, Rocket shuttles could be used quite efficiently and this shuttle looked much more like a small space ship than an atmospheric shuttle. The Martian atmosphere was too thin to require much streamlining and was not nearly thick enough for an efficient lifting wing. Charlie stepped through the large door and into the lower deck of the boxy shuttle. Inside the door was a wide open space with tie down points arranged across the floor, walls and ceiling. This large compartment was used for the transporting of large cargoes to and from orbit. There were a few large crates present, but Charlie assumed that the shuttle had mostly carried goods and equipment just brought in by the Oppenheimer. The second deck lay through another airlock and up a small ladder in the far wall of the big compartment. He quickly climbed the ladder and once up on the next deck he found a series of compartments and lockers where smaller items could be stored. Through another door was the small passenger's compartment. Charlie entered and quickly found a seat. He was briefly interrupted by one of the crew who poked his head briefly in for a look around. "Oh," the man said, somewhat surprised. "Sorry I'm late, but the bus arrived a bit early. I expected to find you down below in the cargo hold." "Sorry," said Charlie, not sure if he had broken some shipboard rule. "No problem," the man continued. "Just saves us some time. All strapped in?," he asked. "Yes," answered Charlie. "All set." "Good," he said as he left the room. "Stay in your seat," he called back. "We lift as soon as I get back topside," as his voice faded in the distance. The boost was as easy as it was disorienting. Since there were no outside windows Charlie could not see the desolate Martian landscape as it dropped away below the rapidly accelerating ship. The pilot soon matched orbit and then smoothly dropped down to the surface of Deimos to land with scarcely a bump at the closest shuttle pad to the much larger belt ship that was waiting there. The crewman reappeared soon after landing and assisted Charlie into one of the space suits near the passenger compartment. "Ever been in a suit before?," came a voice over the suit radio?" "No, never," admitted Charlie. "Been in space before?," came another quick question. "Yes," Charlie answered. "And I've had zero gee experience but never in a suit." "Well, low gee is different than zero gee, but not much, and contrary to what you might have heard, you really cannot jump off of Deimos. Maybe a couple of orbits at best but you will always come down, so if you lose your grip, don't panic, just enjoy the view." Charlie nodded but said nothing, waiting for the crewman to continue. "Outside the shuttle," the man said, the crew of the orecarrier Runner are setting up a hand line between the two ships. It will help you navigate over to her. And don't get any ideas of being an acrobat," he warned. "Like I said it isn't like zero gee and I don't want to have to chase you all over the landscape, ok?" "Ok," agreed Charlie. "I'll try and behave." He was led down to the main airlock and out onto the surface of Deimos. Here, he saw the rope that had been attached to a handgrip on the shuttle and over to another handgrip on the runner. "That," thought Charlie, "Was what a ship should look like." Although still boxy and never designed for operation in air, she was the first true space ship Charlie had seen that had a complete outer skin. Since she was designed primarily for hauling ores, all of her cargo space was enclosed for carrying large amounts of loose material. At this time her main holds lay partially empty, her off-loading being completed before Charlie had arrived. But she was being reloaded with food and manufactured items destined for the belt colonies. Charlie found the trip across interesting and he discovered that, instead of walking he traveled in a series of short hops, with the rope stopping his upward travel and quickly returning him to the surface. He also soon discovered that if he flexed his knees on landing he stayed on the surface with little bounce-back. It took him about ten minutes to traverse the relatively short distance to the larger ship. Once across he located a handgrip and swung himself into the open airlock. He turned to watch the crewman follow him, who was using a much different technique to cross. He simply jumped, aiming at an imaginary point above the airlock Charlie was in, relying on the weak Deimos gravity to deflect his course enough to hit the airlock squarely. At the last moment he stretched out his arms and caught himself on the sides of the airlock, grabbing the two handgrips located there and flipped into the airlock alongside of Charlie, still waiting there for him. After cycling in through the airlock, Charlie was assisted in removing his suit by a second crewman waiting by the entry. Charlie handed the suit back to the first man who then reentered the airlock and returned to the shuttle. "Showoff," muttered the man as he led Charlie away from the airlock. "Excuse me?," asked Charlie, confused. "Him," said the crewman. "That's not the usual way we cross, but he was trying to impress you," he said crossly. "Good way to get himself hurt. Or you hurt, for that matter." The man shook his head in disgust as he led Charlie along a short passage and into another passenger's compartment. Charlie blinked in surprise, fighting to control his expressions and emotions. Seated in one of the seats was Joe! Charlie finally nodded briefly to him and found a seat back near the entry hatch, attempting to stay away from Joe. Charlie was the last of the scheduled passengers for the Runner and settled into the silent personna that Abe had built up on the trip out to Mars. Soon, another crew member entered the small compartment. "We will be lifting in about an hour or so," he announced. "There is a small galley across the passage that you can use if you wish." You have free run of the place, just make sure that it is clean afterwards. "You all should be back in your seats for lift, and the captain will give you ample warning before blast off, although he will use so little acceleration that it really isn't necessary." He pointed to a com panel and continued. "You may use the view screen if you wish. Channel seven is tuned to an outside viewer and should give an interesting picture of Deimos as we depart. I have to leave now, I am on engine duty, but before I go are there any questions?" He saw that there were none so he pushed off into the passageway and disappeared into the ship. 7 The other three did little in the next hour, except getting to know each other better. Charlie was especially grateful for Abe's stony-faced silence, using it to draw away from Joe and the other two men. Finally they felt the rumblings of the powerful engines as the ship lifted slowly from Deimos. And not long after lift, the door into the compartment opened and the ship's captain stepped into the small room. "Good day, gentlemen," he began. "I am Shaun O'Cassidy of the Runner. Before we start, I think that introductions are in order." He sat down in one of the vacant seats, facing the four men before continuing. "We are all going to be here together for quite a few weeks and will probably be working together for quite some time after that." He pointed to Joe. "You might as well start. Name and special qualifications that might be useful." "Joe Francelli," he began. "Mechanical engineer specializing in zero-gee construction techniques. I am also a qualified orbital pilot." Captain O'Cassidy raised an eyebrow. "Pilot you say? Come up to the bridge later and we'll check you out on this old tub. I won't let you stand watch but I can list you as an emergency backup pilot if you are qualified, as you claim to be. "Thank you," said Joe gratefully. "I'd like that." He knew what Captain O'Cassidy's endorsement in his pilot's log would mean. "Ok, you're next," Captain O'Cassidy said, pointing to the next man. "Gorge Scapata," he said, speaking with a thick accent. Joe interrupted, speaking in a clear Castillian Spanish and the two men exchanged a few sentences before Joe turned to the rest of the group. "He says that he is a metallurgist specializing in photovoltaic materials. He speaks little English but understands much more than he speaks." Captain O'Cassidy nodded his thanks to Joe before pointing out the third man. This man spoke in a pleasant Oxford English although his features showed him to be of oriental descent. "Xaio Xien," he said. "I taught celestial astrogation at the National University of China to new space pilots." "Thank you," said the Captain to the three of them. "But before we get to the last of our passengers I want to say that among us there are no secrets. You all have been contacted by various members of the underground and you have all agreed to lend your many talents to help in the coming fight." He nodded toward Charlie. "And with that, Doctor, the floor is yours." Joe looked at Charlie with curiosity. "Finally," he thought, "We will get to the bottom of the mystery." "Before I begin, there is one thing that I would like to do." Charlie quickly removed the two cheek inserts which greatly relieved the discomfort on his upper gums. He then nodded briefly to Joe with a smile. "My name is not Tom," he began. "Nor is it Charlie Joiner." He tipped an imaginary hat to Joe "My real name is Charles Quade!" "Quade," exclaimed Joe, beginning to understand. "Weren't you in the news a couple of years ago?" "Last year, actually when I completed the research on synthetic polymer chains. "I remember you now," cut in Joe again. "You're the beanstalk guy!," he exclaimed. "So what the hell are you doing here?" Charlie turned to Captain O'Cassidy. "How much of the plan do you know and how much am I free to reveal here?," he asked. "I need to know how much might get out when we reach Ceres." "I don't know a lot about the plans or what is really going on but I do know that we are not going to Ceres," explained Shaun. "We are all going directly to Alpha base. While we are on our way there our deaths will be reported through official channels. Another ore carrier, identical to this one was involved in a collision with an asteroid a number of years ago," he continued. "And we have been saving it for an occasion such as this one. We have switched places and it will be towed into Ceres, masquerading as the Runner. So, Doctor, whatever you say here will never leave Alpha base. "Ok, that's what I need to know. The plan, gentlemen, although far from simple is this. We are going to steal the beanstalk!" "You're going to do WHAT?," exclaimed Joe with a look of disbelief on his face. "How in God's name are you going to steal a structure thirty-thousand miles long?" "Actually, we are not going to steal the beanstalk," Charlie said with a smile, enjoying the shocked looks on the faces of the men surrounding him. We are just going to steal the fabricator." He paused, letting the implications sink into the minds of the men before continuing. "You see gentlemen, the factory complex on the moon is now in the process of building the fabricator and then will be integrating it with its computer. It will then be stored on the lunar surface, with the rest of it's component parts until needed on the Rock. The synthesis chamber however is the key component. At this time the belt cannot produce one but they do have the capacity to build the rest of the fabricator." "So what you are saying," interrupted Captain O'Cassidy," is that if we steal this fabricator thing, we will have the means to build a beanstalk?" "Yes, that's it in a nutshell," agreed Charlie. "Simple," commented Xaio. "No problem at all. So just how do you plan on achieving this simple plan?" "At this time, work is being done on a large stony asteroid. Workers are attaching engines to it so that it can be dropped down into Earth's orbit. There it will be placed in a stable geo-synch orbit to be used as an anchor for the Beanstalk. All of the fabricator parts will then be sent up from the Moon by the big mass-drivers, and then assembled on the Rock." "So that's what the rock is," interjected Captain O'Cassidy. "We've been hearing rumors about it but no one has been able to get any information about it or where it was." "Where it is is not that important, since we do not plan on interrupting their work there. I do however have all of the timetables for the Rock's arrival in Earth orbit and also when the fabricator will be delivered to it. All we have to do is be there and pick it up in Earth-lunar orbit before it gets out to the Rock." "That's all?," said Joe incredulously. "I hope that the plan is a bit more polished than that." "I really can't tell you about that," said Charlie. "All I know is the basics. I do know that I will have to assemble the fabricator once we get it and I am carrying all of the timetables with me, hypnotically implanted of course. There are supposed to be people out at Alpha base working on all the various aspects of the plan." "Great," commented Joe glumly, not sure whether he had thrown in with certifiable loonies or not. "Just great." Captain O'cassidy cut the discussion short. "I'm afraid I have got to get back up to the bridge," he said, flipping over to the door leading into the passage. "Joe," he said. "When you get settled in, come up and see me on the bridge. We'll start getting you qualified to fly one of these things." He then pushed off toward the entrance to the access tube leading to the bridge and, with a quick wave, disappeared upward, heading back to the bridge. Charlie and Joe moved into one of the small, vacant staterooms while the other two occupied a second. "What I don't understand," said Joe once they were alone, "Is why someone would want to steal the beanstalk in the first place. "Ah," said Charlie. "Now you have hit on the interesting point." He strapped himself into one of the seats before continuing. "You see, the fortunes of the solar system are changing. The Earth is in a downward spiral into financial ruin and runaway inflation. She cannot afford to build a second beanstalk and it's doubtful that she will even complete the one being started now." "But why?," asked Joe. "Surely the Senate sees the advantages of it? After all, they aren't blind, or stupid for that matter, are they?" "You Joe, are an engineer, not a politician. You live in a completely different world than they do. As the money becomes more and more worthless all of the scientific and engineering projects that require large amounts of money will come to a stop. And one of the largest will be the beanstalk." "I guess I can see that," admitted Joe reluctantly. "Good," said Charlie. "Add to that the amount of money and resources that the belt drains off." "But they need the raw materials we supply them!," exclaimed Joe. "Without the belt they will never rebuild the economy." "It is true that they need a source of resources. But what if there is a cheaper and easier source of materials? What then happens to the Asteroid colonies?" "Where?," asked Joe quietly, not yet understanding what Charlie alluded to concerning the fate of the belt colonists. "Mercury," answered Charlie. "The techniques have recently been developed perfecting robotic and remote controlled mining techniques. On Mercury today, one man can run an entire mining section. At present there are about one hundred men on Mercury and they have the capability of outproducing the million plus colonists on Mars and in the belt. Within five years all of Earth's requirements will be met by the Mercury mines." "So what you are saying is that Earth will no longer need the belt? Is that it? That all of the colonists will finally get to go back to Earth?" Wishing to believe but forcing Charlie to tell him the truth. "That is what Earth wishes to believe, that the belt is unnecessary," said Charlie. But in actuality, Earth will always need the belt. And the colonists she is willing to abandon to die out here." Joe said nothing at first, choking his emoptions back. All that betrayed his innermost feelings was a single small tear forming at the corner of one eye. "So what are we going to do about it?," he said finally in a subdued voice. "The first step is to make the belt completely self-sufficient. "That's a tall order, Charlie," said Joe. "So far, only Mars has been able to do so, and there is no way at the moment that she can carry the belt alone. How do you expect it to be done?" "There are a number of different schemes underway now, but the first and foremost revolves around the beanstalk." "Just what are we going to do with it if we get it?," asked Joe. "That's the easy part. We put it up on Europa." "Why there?," asked Joe, confusion coloring his face. "Water," answered Charlie. "Water and ammonia. The colonies on Mars have enough water to supply their needs but the belt still gets most of hers from Earth. Plus nitrogen for fertilizers. Europa can supply all of the water for reaction mass, air, and hydroponics. With luck we can be self-sufficient by the time Earth cuts us off. But it all requires a working beanstalk." "That's a tall order," said Joe. "There are well over a million people out here. Are you willing to gamble their lives on the heist of the century?" "I agree that it is a long shot. But we have no choice, and we do have an important edge. There are some very powerful people on our side back on Earth who are farsighted enough to see what a beanstalk on Europa would mean. And they are willing to jeopardize their careers to insure that vision comes true." "Other than basic survival, what else are you trying to accomplish?" "First, with an adequate supply of water, food and air, we can build up the production capacity of the belt. Then," he continued, "drawing more and more from Europa as a source of reaction mass for the atomic engines, we will finally have the capability of launching the first interstellar star ships," Charlie said quietly. "That, Joe is what we are gambling our lives for. Not survival, not revenge but for the first interstellar ships mankind builds. And they will be built. This is the last true frontier of the solar system and this is where mankind either pushes out to the galaxy or crawls back to Earth for ever!" "Well, I'll be damned," said Joe admiringly. "And this plan comes from Earth?" "The ability to pull it off is up to us," said Charlie. "They are simply giving us the opportunity. A lot of powerful organizations have been penetrated. And those that have not been penetrated have had their computers turned against them. How do you think I got off Earth?" "I have no idea,"admitted Joe. "I would have assumed that the Senate would want you where they could keep their eye on you, and not allow you to flit off into outer space whenever you wished." "You are right, and this is how it was accomplished. First, data was entered into Internal Security's computer system telling them that I was a wanted man and to pick me up to stand trial. It was very carefully timed so that I would be on the last colonist ship and safely out of Earth's reach before the breach was discovered. The data was next changed to give me a new name and that I had already stood trial and been found guilty. I was then sent to Africa and up to the Oppenheimer. By the time that Internal Security discovered what had happened the Oppenheimer had already left orbit." "But surely Internal security found out about the switch immediately," said Joe. "They aren't that easy to fool." "Under normal circumstances, you would be right," continued Charlie. "However, they were misdirected. They were given a mystery to work on to deceive them long enough for the Oppenheimer to leave. That same misdirection caused them to believe I was still on Earth instead of in space. It gave us the time we needed to get far enough away to make retrieval difficult." "You must have powerful friends," said Joe. "But surely all Internal Security had to do was send a message to Mars and pick you up as soon as the Oppenheimer arrived." "That part was taken care of by a man named Abe Fortas, or Tom, as you came to know him. He is a high-ranking member of the underground, the REAL underground, not the one everyone knows about, the one controlled by Internal Security. He switched places with me just before we left the ship on Deimos and it was him that they picked up, not me." "What will happen to him when they find out about the switch?," asked Joe. "Hopefully, he has already disappeared. Means were placed at his disposal, and if he was able to take advantage of them, he is already beyond their reach. And he was one of the best agents the underground had, so I must assume he is safe. As it is, I owe him a debt I can never repay." "Is that why we are supposed to be dead?," asked Joe, understanding more and more. "Yes, exactly. Tom, who is actually Abe Fortas cannot hope to maintain the masquerade long. But eventually he will have to disappear as Dr. Quade. And when they realize they have lost the trail again, they will backtrack, and believe me, they are relentless, if nothing else. However, all of their investigations will stop with the wreck of the Runner and our bodies." "Bodies?," asked Joe sharply. "Surely they didn't kill anyone simply to provide covers for us, did they?" "No, of course not," said Charlie quickly. "But there are a number of deaths, both accidental and natural every day. Bodies of the right size and shape have been saved for this purpose. In fact, Alpha Base keeps a sizeable morgue frozen, waiting for when a body should be needed. It is an unfortunate thing that this type of cover is needed but everything must be done to guarantee the proper outcome. And you don't have to worry about positive identification, either. If you have ever seen a victim of a combination of explosive decompression and a heavy meteor strike, you would know that identification is impossible. Earth will have to accept the evidence that they are given." Joe, thinking of the few accidents he had witnessed while working on the big wheels said nothing but nodded his agreement. "What will happen to Tom? I mean Abe?," asked Joe finally." "Hopefully he is safe in his own identity and on his way to the Rock. There he will assume a normal working position and ride the Rock into Earth orbit. If we can extract him from there we will do so. If he wants to come back to the belt, that is. If not, he can take care of himself." Charlie stopped briefly before continuing in a subdued voice. "He, like all of us know the risks and voluntarily accepted them. We all understand that the fortune of all colonists in the belt is riding of the shoulders of a few. And we are ready to accept the risks as necessary. It won't be long before you may be asked to take the same risks and you will not be thought badly of if you do decide to back out." "To be honest, I really can't say yet where my allegiances lie. You certainly have given me a lot to think about though. I hope you don't mind if I watch and learn more before I commit myself yet?" Charlie smiled and clasped Joe around the shoulders. "Not at all. In fact you would have been suspect if you jumped whole-heartedly into this with no thought at all. Take all of the time that you need, although I suspect the captain will not allow you much freedom around the ship without some sort of commitment." "I can accept that," said Joe. "At the moment however, I wish to concentrate on learning how to navigate this ship, but I will be thinking over what you have said," admitted Joe. Neither man said anything more as Joe left the stateroom and climbed upward toward the bridge. There he found Captain O'cassidy seated at the command console. "What's the matter, son?," Shaun asked. "You look as if something is eating at you." "I'm not sure," said Joe reluctantly. I was talking with Charlie just now and he filled me in on a few of the details of this operation." "So what's wrong? Are you having second thoughts?" "Yes," admitted Joe. "And third and fourth also. It's just that all of a sudden I am not sure of anything. If we are so right and Earth is wrong, how can we order a man to kill himself? I believe that Earth would do that but not us. Doesn't that make us just as bad as them?," asked Joe quietly. "Now wait a minute son," said Shaun. No one had been ordered to kill himself. Did Dr Quade tell you that?" Captain O'Cassidy asked sternly. "Not in so many words," admitted Joe. "But the man who traded places with Charlie was, in a way. Is he so important that you are willing to sacrifice one man to get Dr Quade?" "No, you have it all wrong," said Shaun soothingly. "I know what you are going through, but believe me, im sure that the man who is pretending to be Dr Quade was not ordered to kill himself. He took the job voluntarily, knowing full well what he was risking and believing that he was capable of extracting himself. But if it does come down to dying, he is capable of doing so if he has to." Captain O'Cassidy's voice had been steadily rising im volume un till he spoke the final words in a near shout. "I'm sorry," he said, apologizing to Joe. "I shouldn't be shouting at you, after all you haven't been in the belt long enough to form your own opinions yet. But then, you were raised in an affluent family and were handed everything you needed to succeed in your society back on Earth. But you will find life is different out here. Very different. Here we are involved in a war. A war of survival, one that never stops for a moment. And on top of that, add the conflict that is yet to come with Earth. On Earth you never had to fight for anything that you wanted, but you better learn fast. No one is going to hand you anything here." Captain O'Cassidy paused to catch his breath before continuing. "Look," he said at last. "People get killed in wars and it usually isn't a pleasant sight. But every one who fights out here on our side does so voluntarily and by their own free will. Sacrifices must be made or we will all die. There are those among us who feel that our own lives are worth less than the possible future we are trying to attain for ourselves and for our children." Joe had said nothing up to now but finally cut in. "If I tell you right now that I am not interested in the fight, what would happen to me?" "That is had to say," said Shaun. "You know too much to be allowed to go your separate way, but we do not believe in coercion. Some way would be found to return you to Ceres to continue your life as you would wish." Captain O'Cassidy stopped and examined Joe. "Is that your wish?" "No, but I was curious. Right now I know too little about you all to truly commit myself one way or the other although I am strongly leaning toward your side right now. I just wish to examine all possibilities to insure that I am not making an emotional mistake." "Good," beamed Shaun. "Examine away. We all have nothing to hide and I am sure that you will find yourself believing more and more in what we are trying to do." What happens next?," asked Joe. "From here we head directly to Alpha Base to deliver Dr. Quade. He is, after all why we are here. And then, I am not sure. But something will be found for us to do. You can be sure of that." "What then happens to the Runner?," asked Joe. "She will be converted into something, but her ore carrying days are over," said Shaun. "Why?," asked Joe "Well, there were originally five of this class ship, but over the years all of the other four have been wrecked and salvaged. Or so say the records, anyway. In actuality, one was hidden and not broken up. That is the ship that is on it's way to Ceres now. And that is why the Runner was used. It is the only ore carrier that we had a double for." "So you volunteered, knowing you couldn't go back to Ceres?" "Yes," admitted Captain O'Cassidy. "And that was the hard part. I have a wife and family on Ceres. She doesn't know the ship coming in is not us." "What!," exclaimed Joe, shock showing in his voice. "Why did you agree to this, then?" "Because the Runner was the only ship that could carry out this mission, that's why. And Dr. Quade IS that important. I knew what I was doing, and so did the rest of the crew." "Now it is my turn to apologize," said Joe contritely. "What will become of your family?" "She might remarry, but I hope not, since she doesn't know of the switch. We couldn't take the chance, because her show of grief must be real to fool the authorities. Later, if we can she will be told and she might forgive me. I hope so but I will have to wait and see. If Internal Security is watching her, we may never be able to tell her." "I came up here to learn a bit of piloting but I'm not sure I feel up to it right now," said Joe. "Maybe later, Ok?" "Sure thing, Joe. Why don't you drop down and get something to eat and then look up the ship's doctor. Ask him to give you a drop of the captain's own stomach medicine before you sack in for the night. It usually helps me at times like these. Then come back in the morning fresh and ready for your first lesson," said Shaun. "Sound good?" "Yeah," agreed Joe. I think that's what I'll do," he said, turning and making his way back down the access tube toward his small stateroom. The Captain's own stomach medicine turned out to be a very potent and smooth scotch whiskey which, according to the label was a product of the belt. "Well," thought Joe. "Maybe life in the belt won't be so bad after all." 8 Joe spent the next couple of weeks immersed in belt astrogation and piloting. Captain O'Cassidy turned out to be a very good teacher and, contrary to what he had said at the start of the voyage, Joe was standing bridge watches before they entered the belt. One afternoon when Joe was off-duty, the ship's announcing system chimed for attention, calling for Joe and Charlie to come up to the bridge. Once there they found Captain O'Cassidy waiting for them. "We are about to enter the belt, gentlemen," he began. "If you are interested you can come down to the plotting room and watch the navigation procedure." This particular type of operation had led to much speculation among the four men and Joe and Charlie were more than grateful for the opportunity to watch and they followed Captain O'Cassidy down to the plotting room. The deck immediately above the crews quarters contained the plotting tables, the navigation computer, communications equipment and the ship's sick bay. The bustle of activity here was taking place around the two lit plotting tables and the navigation computer. "What we are doing here, gentlemen," explained Captain O'Cassidy, "is plotting a safe course through the asteroids." He brought them over to one of the lit tables. When Joe and Charlie looked into it they saw a number of glowing lines. "This is how it works," continued Shaun. "Whenever the navigation computer and the main ships radar detects a new asteroid that will come reasonably close to our course, it plots it in the table. The green lines are where the rocks came from, the blue dot is the rock itself and the yellow line is the projected path of the rock." "Then the red lines must be the ship's course?," asked Joe. "Yes," agreed Shaun. "The dark red is where we came from and the lighter red is our projected course." The table that the three of them were at was the less busy of the two, and most of the activity was taking place at the other table. "This table is the long-range plotter," continued Shaun. "All of the known asteroids are pre-plotted here. Our destination is also entered." They both noticed that the red line terminated on one of the large asteroids. They then realized how far from their final destination they still lay. Shaun then brought them over to the other table. This also had the single red line indicating the ship's course and the split green/yellow asteroid plots. "This is the short-range plotter," he said. "As you can see, the ship's course crosses the table completely. Our destination is still too far away to be seen on this table. This is where we do most of our work and the computer will keep our course terminated on Alpha base. So any time we make minor adjustments to the course, the overall destination will change and the computer, when it deems it safe will readjust the course automatically to bring us safely to our destination." As Captain O'Cassidy spoke, a new line winked onto the table. The green portion to their left and the yellow on their right. "That one's going to be close," said one of the men at the table. "Whenever we get a new asteroid, especially a large one, we try to give it a wide berth, because it is usually accompanied by a number of smaller rocks," explained Shaun. "At this distance the radar has a hard time distinguishing between different targets that are very close together. As we get closer though, that should change." The men at the plotting table worked quickly, adjusting the path of the Runner to swing wide around the rock. As the asteroid approached, the line broke up into more and more lines, indication the smaller rocks that were accompanying the larger one. At last the lines stopped multiplying and the men checked their last adjustments. "Is this how you usually pilot the ship?," asked Charlie. "No," said Shaun. "Only when we are in the belt. It takes too much effort to operate like this around the clock. In open space where there is virtually no danger, we can turn off the plotting system." As the ship neared Alpha base, there appeared fewer and fewer unrecorded asteroids and the tight watch on the tables was relaxed until the watch was held by only two crewmen. Joe was standing watch as an apprentice, still unsure of the system but more than willing to learn. Soon the day came when Alpha base appeared on the short range plotter and the end of their long journey approached. Alpha base was one of the best-kept secrets of the belt and it had originally begun as a small, nearly solid iron asteroid. It had been extensively reworked until it no longer even closely resembled it's original shape. First, a large hole had been bored through to the middle of it. Next a small chamber at the center was hollowed out and filled with ice. Then came the long and laborious task of resealing the access shaft. Once that was completed large mirrors had been assembled and focused on it. The asteroid was then was spun on it's axis and the accumulated power of the sun, focussed by the mirrors, poured millions of watts of power into it every minute. Slowly it began to heat up and, as the outer shell reached a near-molten state the trapped ice turned first to water and then flashed into steam. Slowly the pressure built up until finally the internal pressure exceeded the limits of the molten steel. Soundlessly but spectacular none-the-less, the steam blew a huge steel bubble out of the small asteroid, while the remnants of the steam escaped into open space through open vents in it's uneven surface. Finally, all of the holes were sealed and a large hole was cut and machined to create a huge door in the side of the bubble. Inner shells were slowly built over the years to provide living quarters and then pressurized until today the shell was, in most places, three levels thick. Engines were attached to it and disguised so that in an emergency it could be moved in case of discovery by the authorities. By design it showed as little outward signs of occupancy as possible, relying on it's appearance more than secrecy to keep it safe. To assist further in the illusion, huge degaussing coils had been built on the surface to reduce it's magnetic signature so that it looked like a huge stony asteroid both visually and to ship's sensors. On rare occasions a mining ship would come by but soon continued on it's way after a brief inspection. Inside the sphere lay the small fleet of ships controlled and operated by Alpha base. Here too were brought the damaged ships for storage or salvage. The engines that were built into Alpha base came originally from some of these ships. Here also were stored a large portion of the fuel and food reserves that the base had managed to hoard. The arrival of the Runner would help because she carried a large amount of food and water that had originally been destined for Ceres. The arrival of the Runner brought a large number of the planning council to the berth where she would be docking. The docking procedure was accomplished rapidly and soon a flexible pressurized tube was attached to the main airlock of the ship. "Doctor Quade," spoke one of the men in the front ranks as soon as he had cleared the tube. He pushed his way through the ranks and grasped Charlie's hand, shaking it vigorously. "We have been anticipating your arrival for a long time now," he continued. "On behalf of the population of Alpha base, welcome, welcome." "We are having a reception tonight in your honor," interrupted another voice, raised to pierce the hubbub around the lock. A hand snaked through the small crowd around him and drew him off and away from the others. Charlie allowed himself to be led away from the bustle and into a quieter corridor leading away from the press of bodies. "Come with me," the man said. "I will show you where you will be staying. Charlie followed the man down a wide hall that intersected numerous cross-corridors. "I assume you maintain gravity by spinning the entire structure?," asked Charlie curiously. "Yes," came the quick answer. "The axis of spin is where the ships enter. We do not pressurize the ships bay because there is too much volume and an airlock would be impossible." "Then you live in a band around the middle of the base?" "Yes. We call this hall here the Equator, and it is at full gravity. There are two other corridors that parallel it. One above us and the other below and are called appropriately, Cancer and Capricorn. All of the corridors intersecting these three are called longitudinals." "How far do the longitudinals go?," continued Charlie. "Some go all of the way around the sphere to connect in at the other side. Each longtitudinal is numbered from one to three hundred and sixty. Some starting from this corridor and others starting form either Cancer or Capricorn, depending on which level you are on." "How many levels are there?," asked Charlie again, beginning to get confused. "Only three. Each one is serviced by one of the main halls. It really is a simple system once you get used to it. Every longitudinal that is divisible by five extends to the north or south pole The north being where all of the zero-gee labs are and the south being the access door and shipyards. Your corridor, longitude fifty extends from your living quarters out to all of the labs assigned to you, including some zero-gee ones if you need them." They turned down a longitudinal and stopped in front of a wide door. "These are your rooms, through here," he explained. He keyed open the door and stepped in. By the door stood the familiar console of a comp terminal. "When you get a chance, enter your fingerprints and then it will let you set up a list of people who are authorized access and the passkeys will no longer be usable." He handed Charlie the key before continuing. "We apologize for the lack of furniture but again we did not know what you preferred so we waited till you arrived before furnishing the place." He opened a second door. "Through here," he explained, "is the bedroom. "He stopped to point out another door in the corner of the big room. "And through there is the fresher." He escorted Charlie back into the main room. "This door leads to the library," he said, opening another door off of the main room. "And this," he said," opening another door in the library, "is your personal comp." Inside Charlie saw a very large comp, one much larger than he had imagined would be available for his personal use. "Ships comp," he explained, seeing the puzzled look on Charlie's face. "The one thing we have a lot of is comps, all of them from the wrecked ships we salvage." Back in the main room, he was led through one last door into a large well equipped lab. "Your rooms open onto this lab and other similar labs are at your disposal, further up the longitudinal and also across the hall from here. Farther down the hall and out of full g are a large number of storerooms also set aside for your use. Whatever you need, just ask and we will do our best to provide it for you." "I... I don't know what to say," stammered Charlie, at a loss for words. "I am honored by your confidence in me." "No, we are privileged to have as distinguished a man such as yourself working with us. Whatever you need, we will provide it. Lab assistants, equipment, anything. All here would consider it an honor to work with you directly. But come," he said, changing the subject. "We will be late for the conference," he said, hustling Charlie back out into the corridor The conference was being held in a small room near Dr. Quade's residence where holocams and mikes had been set up to transmit the meeting to all people of Alpha base. As he was escorted into the small room, he noticed that four of the six comfortable chairs set around the conference table were occupied. He was led to one of the remaining chairs, while his escort stood in front of the last empty chair. "The patriots of Alpha base," he began, "would like to welcome Dr Charles Quade into our small community. But before we proceed with the meeting, I would like to introduce a few of our more distinguished inhabitants." The host turned to the chair directly to his right. "First, is Yvonne Perozie." She was an older woman with fair skin and graying hair. Short of stature and lean, she was wearing one of the common coveralls favored by most of the asteroid personnel. "She is our Assistant Director." He turned slightly to face the next chair. "Vittorio Orthaus, the Sciences Director. He keeps all of the departments in touch with each other by publishing the ongoing research results. And whenever we can get it, anything that arrives from Earth." A young man, with the look of boyhood still upon him, Orthaus was tall, with dark hair, freckles and a friendly warm smile. "Third is Jodane Lisenring, He is in charge of the dirty tricks department." Jodane was a small, nondescript man, with dirty blond hair, the type that would blend into almost any crowd and be completely unnoticed. "Fourth is Yoon Tae Yeo, the Director of Alpha base." He was also small but with the hair and features of Northern China. "And I," he continued, turning and bowing slightly to Dr Quade, "am Salvattoro Castagniera, Supreme Military Commander of the Army and Navy of Alpha base, and the free asteroid belt." This comment must have been meant rhetorically because it was met by hearty laughs from the audience. "You will soon find out," explained Sal, "that the the total armed forces of the belt consist of one converted mining ship which is our navy and ten armed soldiers. Or, more accurately, the security team and I, their officer. All in all, a definitely superior and powerful military organization if I do say so myself." Dr Quade found himself chuckling along with the rest of them at this grand pronouncement and thought that he probably would find it hard not to like this young man. Sal turned back to the holocams. "And now I have the great pleasure of introducing Doctor Charles Quade, late of Earth and due to his own recent and unavoidable death, late of Mars. But, following a miraculous recovery, like the rest of us here, late for his own funeral." Dr Quade stood and waited for the laughter to cease before speaking. "Sorry I'm late," he began, drawing yet more chuckles from the assembled crowd. "And, after an introduction like that, anything I say seems almost anticlimactic." He turned slightly and briefly nodded to Sal. "I will say, however that with the awesome strength of the military forces of the belt in so obviously capable hands, how can we lose? Besides since we are already dead, what more can they do to us?" He turned to Vittorio. "Is this being recorded?," he asked. "Yes sir," said Vittorio. "We don't want to let anything slip into the cracks, so to speak." "Good. There is a lot that I wish to discuss and it will be easier if it is all printed out afterwards to be distributed to the interested departments." "No problem sir," said Vittorio. "I will see to it." Dr. Quade nodded his approval before continuing. "There are a number of subjects that I wish to discuss tonight, and all of them relate to recent breakthroughs in the fields of chemistry and physics. But first," Charlie said, turning to Jodane. "What is a dirty tricks department?" Jodane smiled. "Most governments keep a dirty tricks department of some sort or another. They are supposed to keep their enemy's troops off guard. We, however try to come up with ways of supplying food, water and personnel. The Streaker/Runner switch is just one of the ploys we use." "Sounds like fun," said Charlie. "Yes, it can be. The thrill of the chase, you know. We do have a lot of friends scattered throughout the Belt. And the ones who are highly placed do as much for us as they possibly can." Dr. Quade first filled the group in on the events of the last few months, finishing by stating once again his desire to steal the beanstalk. "You are sure that this is absolutely necessary?," asked Yoon once Charlie had finished speaking. "True we are all dedicated to doing whatever is necessary but it seems as if we are deliberately starting a war neither side can afford to wage let alone lose." "Unfortunately, it is necessary. Computers on Earth ran every simulation we could come up with and this one is the only one that allowed the highest survival rate of the belt population. And, yes Earth cannot afford a war at this time, especially one with supply lines as long as these will be. The Senate understands that and should do everything possible to avoid a direct conflict, relying instead on an economic boycott to win the fight. "But just in case there are a few hotheads out here and back in the Senate, we may have to give them something to think about. "Mr Castagniera," he said, only to be cut short. "My friends call me Sal," he said. "Good," he said to the assembled crowd. "And since we all will be working together for some time, Dr. Quade is too formal, so please call me Charlie." There was a buzz of approvals from the crowd but Charlie continued quickly. "How is the ship coming along?," he asked. "The hull is completed," said Vittorio. "We are installing the engines and will be starting on the interior soon." "Fine," said Charlie approvingly. "I have brought a few changes along that you might find helpful, like the newest superconductor alloys. If this whole arrangement actually works, we just might give the Senate something to really think about." He turned to Vittorio. "How much do the people here actually know?" "Not much," admitted Vittorio. "We haven't been publishing anything about the ship due to the fact that the alloys we have really are not adequate for the job." "Why don't you fill everyone in?," asked Charlie. "The new alloys are far superior to the old ones and I think that they will fill the bill quite well." Vittorio faced the holocams. "Basically," he began, "We have been investigating an interesting side effect of superconductivity. "First, you must understand exactly what superconductors do. They allow the flow of electricity through a conductor with absolutely no resistance to that flow. Resistance causes heat and heat is a loss. Superconductors allow current flow with no losses whatsoever. "Superconductors have been around for quite a while. Back in the early nineteen hundreds an experiment was set up where a conductor was cooled nearly to absolute zero where the wire turned into a superconductor. And since then the search was on for a material that remained a superconductor at room temperatures. And although we are not there yet, we have been getting closer. "You may ask why we are interested in superconductivity? Actually the answer is quite simple. It was discovered that superconductors and magnetic fields repel one another. A common parlor trick is to get a magnet to float above a superconductive plate, balanced by the repulsion of the superconductor and the attraction of gravity. "Now, conjecture if you will," continued Vittorio. "If the magnetic field is produced by a solar body such as the sun and the superconductor is the hull of a space ship. The ship should get a sizeable kick from the magnetic field as they repel one another." This announcement was met with gasps from the assembly. "Taking the engineering one step farther, wrap the hull of an existing ship with a superconductor assembled around a hollow core. Out in deep space, a heated fluid is circulated through the tube, keeping the temperature of the conductor above it's superconductivity point. When close to the sun however, the sun itself will provide the necessary heat. When the drive is required, a supercooled liquid is passed through the tube, dropping the conductor's temperature below it's superconductivity point and the drive cuts in. "Unbelievable," said Yoon. "Is all this true?" "Yes," said Charlie. "And there is more. Do you know what is required to produce electricity?" "Sure," said Yoon. A magnetic field, a conductor and motion." "Correct. The field is supplied by the sun, the conductor is carried by the ship itself and motion is supplied by the ship during grav-whip. In essence, an electric generator. If we shunt this current into a large capacity accumulator, nearly all of the energy to supply the drive machinery will be supplied free of charge. Once the ship is past the sun and is on it's way back out, convert the conductor into a superconductor and there isn't a ship in the system that can catch her." "My god," said Sal in appreciation. A drive that supplies it's own power. Isn't that perpetual motion?" "No, not exactly. It still requires a lot of energy to operate the superconductivity equipment. More than the accumulators will be able to supply. Hopefully though, it will catch Earth off guard and we will get away clean. It will take a lot of experimentation to determine how to operate a superconductor drive in a planetary field but that is one of the things that we are fighting for. The chance to continue the research out here in the belt. But later I can get with the proper department and help with the technical details. The actual formulas for the alloys are hypnotically buried with a number of other items. "Is there anything else?," asked Sal, still in somewhat of a daze. "Yes, many things. One, for instance is a portable mass-driver. Using the advanced alloys we can produce a much lighter and more powerful set of magnets." "Wait a minute," objected Sal. What about the recoil? In space that must be a major consideration." "Yes, you are completely right. However, if you have two drivers instead of one, one firing a projectile out of the front end and the other out of the back end, the resultant force vectors cancel each other out and there will be no recoil." "How long would these things be?," asked Sal eagerly, the light of understanding in his eyes as his mind started working on the idea. "Twenty or thirty feet, depending on the amount of acceleration you want. Couple it to a photocell array and a medium sized asteroid to anchor the whole thing and to store ammunition and you have a cheap weapon that could effectively take out a space ship with one good shot." "Shit," exclaimed Sal. "If we kill a few of their ships, that should discourage them from actively carrying the war to us and change it into a waiting game very quickly." "Then you expect active war?," asked Yvonne, finally touching on the one subject they all had been avoiding. "Unfortunately, yes," he assented. "The Generals on Earth still do not think in terms of space warfare and the sheer distances we will be dealing with. However if we can produce a resounding defeat to their forces, they will very quickly get the idea and pull back, allowing us the freedom to continue with our other plans. After all, once we have the fabricator, I would not relish building a beanstalk while being actively fired upon." "Anyway," interrupted Yoon. "We can go on like this all night. We all can get together later and draw up plans for all of the things that you have brought us. "However, the original reason for this meeting was to get to know you and you, us. I believe we have adequately met those goals and I suggest that we retire to the cafeteria where a buffet spread has been laid out and continue these discussions later?" "Yes, excellent idea," said Charlie. "I need to get debriefed hypnotically before we can really dig into the information I have brought. So, if you would be so kind as to lead the way," Charlie said to Yoon, standing and allowing the older man to step off of the stage, "I'll be right behind you." He was led a short distance to a large cafeteria, flanked on one side by Yoon and Salvattoro on the other, with both men competing for his attention. The rest of the crowd stayed a few paces behind them, allowing a semblance of privacy as they walked. "When will you be able to get me a list of things that you will need?," asked Yoon. Charlie ignored Sal's incessant attempts for his attention, listening instead to Yoon, defering to the man's senoir position. "That will be hard to say," he began. "I really don't know the status of the other labs already in operation on Alpha. And until I see those labs and what they are actually doing, I will not know what areas may need to be addressed. I will be particularly interested in the ship though." "Ah, the ship," Sal said, finally succeeding in interrupting. "It is actually coming along very well and far ahead of schedule." "We recognize that the launching timetable is unalterable and have assigned all possible personnel on it." "Excellent," said Charlie. Later, if it can be arranged, I would like to see it." "That can be arranged," said Sal. "Anytime you wish, just say so to Vittorio. He will set it up for you." "I'll do that," said Charlie. He stopped and looked around the cafeteria, noticing that it was starkly decorated and it's strict utilitarian lines showed through. Frills were the one thing that there was little of here. At the far end of the large room, tables had been set up to hold the various trays and bowls of food. Prominently placed at one end of the last table was a large bowl of fresh fruit. As Charlie got closer to the bowl he saw a small hand-lettered sign that simply said "one each" placed beside the bowl. "They just came in on the Runner," explained Yoon. "We see so little real food, let alone fresh fruit that it is a real treat. As you might expect, nearly all of our fare here is algae paste." "I expected no more," said Charlie in agreement. "We do," continued Yoon, "have a number of very good chefs here that can make a very passable meal out of the paste. Nearly everything here tonight is algae, with a few exceptions other than the fruit." He stopped to examine the loaded tables. "In fact, I'll be willing to bet that you won't be able to tell which ones are real and which ones are not." "That's one bet I won't take," said Charlie with a smile. "But I will try whatever looks good though and give you my overall recommendations, ok?" "Agreed," said Yoon happily, reaching for a plate. "We can talk later after you get settled. I'll have my secretary set up an appointment." "I'd like that," said Charlie, finding it easy to like the small man. He filled a plate with a number of interesting looking items. He turned and was beckoned over to a partially filled table which was occupied by Sal, Vittorio and Joe! "I see you got a better reception than I did," said Joe with a grin. "Sorry," said Charlie with an apologetic shrug. "So how are you getting along? I am sorry I havn't had much time for you as of late. But perhaps that oversight can be remedied." "That's fine with me but I have a feeling that we both wil be rather busy in the near future. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the port master and he will assign me to an instructor to check me out and assess my piloting skills. If I am lucky, I will be a fully qualified belt pilot by next week. "Excellent," said Charlie. "I am sure that they can always use more pilots here. And I would like to see you in the running for the big job coming up later." "You mean on the Giant Killer?," asked Vittorio. "The WHAT?," asked both men unison. "That's what everyone has been calling the new ship," chimed in Sal, laughing at the reaction of the two men. The few of us who knew her true mission have had a hard time keeping it secret with a name like that." "No one is sure who started it," added Vittorio. One morning the first shift started work and found an engraved brass plate on her nose, with the name on it and it sort of stuck." "And since no one has been able to come up with a better name, we really haven't been trying to change it." Joe and Charlie had found this whole conversation rather funny and were having trouble controlling themselves through it all. "It's fine with me," said Charlie around his laughter. "A good omen, gentlemen. If you can keep your sense of humor at a time like this the battle is halfway won." "Do you think I will be ready by launch?," asked Joe. "I have no idea," said Charlie. "I have no way of knowing how good you are and what your qualifications are. I will leave that up to the port master." "Sorry," said Joe, red-faced. "It's just that you seem to have all of the answers." "No, actually I have very few. But I hope to be of some assistance in streamlining those that already exist. Most of the planning and work has been done. I just hope to be able to help complete them." "You mentioned earlier that war really was not a factor to worry about," said Sal. "Why?" "It's really simple. There are members of the Senate that know they will still need the belt and it's resources. If we do succeed in becoming self-sufficient then not only us but the whole solar system wins. No one would win a real war out here. The Earth simply cannot afford to supply a war this far from home. Hell, she can't afford to supply peace this far away. And war is much more expensive." "So what will they do?," asked Vittorio. "Now that a cheaper source of resources is available to the Earth, she will of course grab it. The Earth simply cannot afford the drain we place on her any longer and there are Senators who believe that they will never need us. Or at least, when that need reappears later, they can again develop the belt." "Isn't that a bit shortsighted?," asked Joe. "Yes," agreed Charlie. "One, since we are now considered unnecessary, we die. Very impractical from our point of view. And there is virtually no chance of being returned to Earth. Unemployment in many sections of the globe runs as high as twenty-five to thirty percent. There is no place there for us now and there never will be." "So what's next?," asked Vittorio. "Well, that's why we are here. Those of us on Alpha that is, fighting for a different future. True, Mercury can supply everything that the Earth needs and will greatly help her unemployment problem. However, as the resources start to arrive from Mercury, it will fill all of her manufacturing needs and there it will stay. As the Earth's population grows, more and more will be needed to house and feed the population. Everything Mercury supplies will go to Earth and there it will stay, feeding her cities and industries. "If, however we do succeed in becoming self-sufficient, all of the burdens of supplying Earth will be off of us and we will be able to use the resources as we see fit. Our population is low, and will stay there, never out-pacing our resource production. All of which will stay here to be used to build our own worlds. Hopefully, nothing will be needed from Earth again. With that freedom to grow and learn, the belt will become the leading edge of technology. We will have the room to grow and expand. Earth, once she has pulled back will not." "You paint a rosy picture," said Vittorio, finding it easy to be pulled into the spell of Charlie's words. "Rosy it can be but it will also be hard work. Work we will have to do ourselves, but we do have friends. Powerful friends back on Earth that are farsighted enough to see the true future of mankind and will do everything in their power to stop any true attempt at carrying war to us." "And we know what we have to do to win that war," said Yoon, who had approached from behind Charlie's chair and had been listening for some time. "I just received a message that came in with the Runner and has only now been decoded." He saw that he held the attention of every person within earshot and continued. "I realize that there have been a number of people that have been opposed to forcing our freedom but have been backing the decision of the majority. The message was sent to the military commander of the Deimos garrison. It details the decision to reduce the shipments of materials needed by the belt but at the same time requiring an increase in daily quotas from every man and woman out here. It also goes on to order the stop of all large construction projects with the one exception of the Rock and lists the timetable for reducing all garrison personnel, the last men to leave in no more than five years. By then, it says, the Mercury mines will be up to full production and the garrison will no longer be required." "Five years?," said Sal, "that's all?" "Yes, that's it. Our death sentence has just been passed. All personnel that will be going back will be returned on the new freighter being completed on Deimos, the other three will be shifted to the Mercury run as their last voyages out to Mars have been completed." "Five years should be plenty of time," said Charlie. "If our plans come to fruition, that is." "And they will," stated Yoon. "This should draw all of Alpha personnel solidly behind the efforts and serve to pull the rest of the Belt into the fray. Carry on gentlemen," he said. "I have to get back to my office, I wish to post copies of the letter and get them sent out to Ceres so they also can begin to act on it." Nothing was said at the table as they watched Yoon walk wearily away from them. "That sure puts a damper on the evening," commented Joe after Yoon had departed. I believe I will turn in, if you will excuse me. I've got an early appointment with the port master." "Good idea," agreed Sal and Vittorio. Sal turned to Charlie. "If you wish, I'll show you back to your rooms." Charlie nodded a silent agreement and rose, following the younger man out of the slowly emptying room. "You mentioned the first shift," said Charlie curiously, once the two men had gotten out into the main corridor. "Yes," said Sal. "We work around the clock here. Three shifts, each on their own timetable. A number of projects are on a round-the-clock schedule and other than that the different shifts was started to relieve the pressure on our limited support staff" Charlie soon fell into the routine of Alpha base. He personally kept track of the installation of the SC drive. The superconductor alloy he had brought out was a synthetic material that could be sprayed on a hollow wire and then baked to produce a hard ceramic material. At low current levels the wire would act as a normal current carrier. At higher levels it became a heater, supplying heat to the ceramic and taking it above it's superconductivity point. A refrigerant could be pumped through the hollow wire which dropped it's temperature down into the superconductivity range. The heater was incorporated in the design to act as a rapid shut-off in case something went wrong because a full operational test would be impossible until the ship entered the high magnetic field of the sun. One of the first things Charlie had done was meet with the port master and inquire about the top pilots at Alpha base. He was not surprised when he saw Joe's name on the list, but marked as provisional, depending of course on the outcome of his tests. Joe himself had not had quite the reception that Charlie had had. He had been assigned to quarters in a small room containing a combination couch/bed set against one wall. A small table with two chairs occupied a corner and a vid terminal stood alone against another wall. A small bathroom that was shared with the room next to his lay through the only other door in the room. "Not bad," Joe thought. "At least it's got possibilities. A little decorating might just liven the place up." Joe soon became accustomed to the scheduled routines of the place. The day after moving into his room he reported to the port master. He found him in a small office with one large window looking out into the huge ship bay of Alpha base. He was ushered in after a quick rap on the outer door. "Joe Francelli," he said, introducing himself and offering his hand. "John Henner," came the quick warm response, as he shook Joe's hand with a strong, steady grip. He was a barrel of a man, comfortable with the mantle of command, demanding and getting the respect of all of his pilots. Hard but fair, he was a near instant judge of character, knowing which men would give him everything they could and which men he would have to push to do their best. "Familiarize yourself with all of the various ships" he said, during the first quick tour of the docks. "But keep away from THAT one." THAT one turned out to be the Giant Killer, the ship the base was building specially for Charlie's expedition to Earth. It was a short, wide cylinder that was open to space through a large hole in the center. Crews quarters and the operating spaces were placed around the central cavity with the engines and fuel tanks in the rear. As Joe watched, a scaffolding was being assembled around the outer hull to begin incorporating the SC drive. It had been rigidly tethered to the inside wall, secure inside a pressurized plastic bubble. There were a number of similar bubbles and quite a few unused circular collars waiting for when they might be needed. "Some day," thought Joe, "this place could turn into a major belt shipyard." "One more thing," the port master said. "In a few days or so, when I can get one free, I am assigning you to one of our instructor pilots to assess what you do and do not know. Then, I can assign you to what classes you will need and get you into a working position. But until then, just hang loose and look around." Joe thought that was an excellent suggestion and planned to take every advantage of the offer while he could. "Sure," he agreed at once. "Anything special I should work on?" "Belt navigation, but I don't expect you to tackle that alone. It can be really confusing without an experienced man along side of you." "On the way out here," admitted Joe, "Captain O'Cassidy let me stand bridge watches and assist in navigating through the belt. "Will that help?" "Yeah," John said, surprised. "What did you do to the old battle-axe? Blackmail him?" "No, it was his suggestion. Why?" "As far as I know he has never let anyone other than crew onto his bridge," said John. "He has a bad reputation in the belt for being a recalcitrant and hardheaded. I have not been looking forward to meeting the man or having him work for me." "He seemed okay to me," said Joe, equally surprised. "Maybe he has a bad rep but doesn't deserve it?" "Possibly," agreed John. "But as a favor to you, I'll take it easy on him first. If what you say is true, no sense in antagonizing him on the first day." "I would appreciate it. I know you owe me nothing but I believe we will be working together for quite some time. We might as well start as friends." "Friends it is," John agreed warmly. "Friendship has never harmed a working relationship yet," he said slapping Joe on the back as he left the office. "And I'll check out Captain O'Cassidy too. Thanks for that bit of information." "Any time," said Joe. "Whatever I can do to help, just ask." "I will," said John with a wry smile. "Believe me, I will." Joe gave him a brief wave as he left the docks, heading back toward the living quarters and a cafeteria near his rooms. Joe had been working a few days when he was called into the docking foreman's office. It was decorated in the fashion of most working offices. Piles of blueprints were stacked in one corner of the office. Pictures of various ships, from one of the big colonist ships to a beautiful three masted sailing ship. A bookshelf spanning one whole wall was filled with engineering texts and reference books. Inside the office he was met by one of the men he had met immediately prior to the reception held for Charlie the other day. Joe momentarily forgot the man's name but was quickly reminded. "Salvattoro Castagniera," he said, introducing himself once again. "Come on in, Joe, and have a seat." Joe was waved over to one of the hard chairs by the small desk and sat, saying nothing, but waiting for the other man to speak. "I predict a long and mutually advantageous friendship," Sal began. "I have had a look at your pilot's log and I must say, I'm impressed with what I saw." He stopped to call up a copy of the log on the vid. "And we have been watching you closely since you arrived here and I am impressed by your abilities to absorb new engineering systems quickly." "Lots of men have more logged hours than I do," protested Joe. "Yes, they do. But most of them are long haulers, not orbital tug pilots. Most of your experience is under power; I doubt that there are five men in the belt with as many hours as you do in tugs. Coupled to your education, you could be a very useful man. I believe we will have no trouble finding a permanent spot for you." "Like what?," asked Joe enthusiastically. "I'm not sure just yet. How are you getting along with the ships?" "At first I thought that they were all different but as I study them I find that they are all very similar, just set up differently. The control systems all work alike. It's just a matter of learning where the different controls are on each type of ship." "Good," said Sal. "You come highly recommended too. Captain O'Cassidy signed your log book that you are a very capable pilot." Joe reddened slightly. Although private comments could be entered in the log book, they seldom were. Only exceptional pilots ever received personal endorsements. "And I see that it is not the first time either," continued Sal. "The Armstrong's flight officer made a few comments also. He cited your strict professionalism, a finely honed talent with tugs and a general willingness to do almost any job and then perform it flawlessly," Sal said. "Earth used a rating system, didn't they?" "Yes," answered Joe. "All pilots were rated every six months and the standings were posted. A lot of benefits went with the position of Top Pilot." "How many times were you posted as number one?" "Six. Once at Gagarin in five times at the Armstrong station." "Didn't the Gagarin rating get you the berth at Armstrong?," asked Sal. "Yes," answered Joe. "Once I arrived on the Armstrong it took me a while to regain the number one spot though. There were a lot of very capable pilots there, much better than at the Gagarin." "But once back on top, you stayed there?" "Yes," agreed Joe, beginning to wonder where this conversation was leading. "Well, It seems that I do have a job for you after all. How would you like to be posted as second pilot to the Giant Killer? Probational of course." Joe sat, momentarily stunned. "Me?," he asked finally. "But I have been here only a few weeks. Surely there are other pilots who know her better than I do?" "Frankly, no. The operating system will be completely different and you impress me as a man fully capable of learning the new system quickly and well. Interested?" "God yes," said Joe quickly. "But I do have a few questions though." "Ask away," said Sal "Anything you want to know, I am now authorized to tell you." "Will Dr. Quade be aboard?" "Yes," chuckled Sal. "I understand that you and he built up quite a friendship on the way out, didn't you?" "We got along well, yes. He is a good card player. And I look forward to playing him again now I know who he is." "Why would that make a difference?," asked Sal, puzzled. "On the trip out he was trying to conceal his identity, including trying to convince everyone he wasn't as smart as he really is. As a result he deliberately contrived to lose. Not often or spectacularly but just enough to keep him from being noticed." "I see," said Sal. Now that he doesn't have to hide who he is, it will be a much more even match?" "Exactly. Now we will find out which of us is better than the other. I will be looking forward to the rematches. But if he is so important to everything, why are you risking him on the mission to Earth?" "We tried to dissuade him but he insisted in coming along," explained Sal. "But then, since so much of the equipment is his design it was finally agreed that he should be on the ship to assess the fabricator after the theft. And if it should get damaged in the process, both he and you should be able to put it back into working order on the way back." Joe nodded, thinking things over "And who will the Captain be?," he asked finally. "Shaun O'Cassidy," Sal answered quickly. Joe stood, extending his hand. "Then yes, I shall be very pleased to accept the position." Sal grasped his hand and, shaking it with a smile. "Good, good. Then you are working for me now and welcome aboard! But remember. We will be pushing you t your limits in the next few months. If there is any doubt about you or your abilities, you are out! And there will be no appeal of that decision." "I have never been afraid of hard work. Nor have I v\ever been accused of doing less than the best that I could. I think you will have little to complain about from me." 9 The new modifications progressed rapidly on the Giant Killer because a lot of the work had been completed prior to Dr Quade's arrival. Final outfitting and the installation of the SC drive were all that was left to complete. Joe spent most of the time on board learning the new systems and familiarizing himself with the engine setup. A simulator had been programmed to assist in ship handling but no one could predict how the SC drive would work or even if it would indeed work at all. Captain O'Cassidy, Joe and the third pilot, Michaela Riecce all soon became quite adept at performing all of the required maneuvers when they would be in Earth orbit. One afternoon, Joe and Michaela were returning from the Giant killer when the emergency lights began flashing. "What the hell's going on?," asked Joe. "I'm not sure," answered Michaela. "Quick, in here," she said, pulling Joe into a small room off of the main corridor. She quickly sealed the door and then turned on the vid terminal. "This is an emergency hole," explained Michaela. "We will be safe here if we lose atmosphere. Let's find out what's going on, okay?" "Sure," agreed Joe, turning to the vid, where an announcer was speaking, preempting all programming channels. "An unidentified mining ship has just entered short-range radar, he was saying. This is a class 'B' emergency. No transmitters of any type are to be used until the all-clear is given. I repeat..." "Nothing to worry about," she said. "We get quite a few of them actually. Let's see if I can get a better picture on this thing." She returned to the vid and entered a string of commands on the keyboard. "Good," she finally announced. I have tied in to the exterior camera system monitoring the intruder. I can only get the one central control is watching on the main monitor but that should be fine." "Looks good to me," agreed Joe, pulling up a chair and settling in to watch. Michaela entered another string and soon the announcer's voice was back on. "I crossed the audio channel over to the announcer so we can hear anything he has to say without missing any of the action." "How did you learn those commands?," asked Joe curiously. "When I first arrived here, I was assigned to security central and had access to all of the codes and passwords. I still like to be able to keep track of things," she admitted. "It's a bit like spying, but I cannot access anyone's private vid without him or her knowing about it. The only thing I can monitor are the open security channels." On the vid they saw a small mining ship, slowly closing on Alpha base, making a standard pass, checking for any indication of iron, using magnetometers. "They usually make one pass and then go on. If there is no iron then they do not stop." "What's happening now?," asked Joe, still watching the vid. The ship had fired her retro's, bringing her to a relative stop near the large asteroid. "Damn," muttered Michaela. "It looks like they are going to come over and do a visual." "What's that?," asked Joe. "They are looking for anything that would not show up on a magnetometer. Ice, non-ferrous metals, minerals, anything at all that might be useful." "What will security do now?" "That depends on what they find and what they do next. If they do not find anything suspicious, like the degaussing coils or one of our monitor cameras, they may leave. Or they may sink a blast hole and check what's down under the surface." Two men detached themselves from the ship and, using jet packs, dropped down to the asteroid's surface. They landed on the north pole, that being the easiest place to set down due to the spin of the asteroid. "That's a lucky break," commented Michaela. There is much less to see there than on the south pole. The ship access door is much harder to hide than the coils and the cameras." "What will happen if they do decide to blast?" "Depends on where they try it. If they are over one of the labs, they will get one hell of a surprise when they vent it to space. But it should not go that far though." "Why not?," asked Joe, curoisity coloring his face. "Watch and see," came the enigmatic answer. Sure enough, the two men opened a case and withdrew a boring laser and began setting it up on the surface of the asteroid. Suddenly, behind them, a much larger ship appeared on the monitor camera. The commentator patched the communication channel into his broadcast and sent the dialogue throughout the base. "Stop what you are doing," came an unseen voice from the new ship." "Who are you?," came another unidentified voice. "We have a prior claim on this rock," the first announced. "All signed and legal by Ceres. Want to see it?" Nothing more was said for a short time. "This is the dangerous part. If they decide to fight about it, things could get dirty. Let's hope the intruder isn't too brave and quits." "So what are you hiding here?," the second finally answered. "Ain't no iron. Must be something good." "It doesn't matter. Whatever's here is ours. No sense in fighting about one rock when there are millions of others like it out here. Why don't you just move along and check a different one out?" Again came a minute or two of silence from the intruder. "Look," announced Michaela excitedly. "They are packing up." Sure enough, the two men on the surface were repacking the drill laser and getting ready to return to their ship. "Don't know what you are hiding, stranger," called the intruder. "But I'm sure it ain't worth a fight for. Keep it in good health and be damned," the voice said angrily. Joe and Michaela watched as the two men jetted back to the small ship and disappeared inside. Soon, they saw the pale exhaust of steam and the ship began moving away from Alpha, resuming it's hunt for usable ores." "That's the easy way," said Michaela. "I don't think I want to know what the hard way is. But what would happen if they decided to fight?" "They would lose. The second ship is not a mining ship and although it looks like one, it belongs to Security. All of it's cargo holds are carrying generators and accumulators. She carries one hell of a main laser, not to mention flush missile racks carrying both conventional and nuclear warheads." "Then I assume that's the hard way?" "Yes. Hard for them, easy for us. So far however, we haven't had to use it against anyone yet. There was one incident where we did fire the main laser, but missed, by design. We came close enough though that the other ship realized they were outclassed and turned tail and ran. A big mega-laser is enough to scare anyone. "I'm sure it is," chuckled Joe, putting himself in the place of that other captain. "I'm sure that in similar circumstances, I would have done the same thing." "Condition green," said the announcer, as the emergency lights stopped flashing. "The emergency is over, please resume your normal activities," he continued. Michaela returned the vid to it's normal mode of operation, deleting the instruction string and blanking the picture. "There," she said after completing the task. Now it is just a vid terminal again." "You could be handy to have around," said Joe appreciably. "Yeah, there are a lot of things I can do," she said flirting with him. Joe knew however that it was all in fun. She was involved with someone at the moment but still enjoyed the reactions she could get from the men she worked with. It had taken Joe a few days and a reminder or two to discover just how serious she actually was. Which was fine with Joe. He really did not need any more distractions at this particular time, since the Giant-killer took up most of his time. Finally the day came when the ship was finished, all fuel tanks filled and the provision lockers stocked. The four crewmembers looked forward to the time they would be allowed to try her out for real instead of in the Simulator. Major Caine received the summons to appear in front of the World Senate subcommittee on planetary defense with mixed reactions. Yes, he had expected the summons but none-the-less he was still mentally unprepared for them. "Lieutenant Hadley," he called into his intercom. The door to his large office opened to admit the young lieutenant. "I will need a round-trip ticket on the next suborbital flight to Zurich Switzerland," he said. "Yes sir," the Lieutenant said. "How long will you be staying and should I make reservations at one of their hotels?" "Yes, you better make them at the Hilton. I may be there a while. And," he said as an afterthought, "you better leave the return open." "Right away sir," Lieutenant Hadley said, saluting as he backed out of the office. The view of new Zurich was grand as the big aircraft banked in and overflew the city to land at the airport serving the World Senate. A small city in it's own right, it had been built away from old Zurich in an effort to preserve the historic city and it's distinctive architecture. A limo was waiting for him in front of the terminal building and he watched the panorama of the Alps out the side windows on the way to the Hilton. The driver had cleared the normally opaque windows to insure a good view on the long drive. Although Major Caine had not asked the driver to do so, apparently enough people had done so in the past so that he now did it automatically. "Here we are sir," the man announced as he pulled up in front of the large modern hotel. "I have been assigned as your driver for your entire stay here. If you need me, you can page me over your wrist comp." "Very good," said Major Caine, slipping out of the auto, as a liveried bellboy removed his baggage from the trunk of the large vehicle. "Lieutenant Hadley had done well," he thought, inspecting his small suite of rooms. Although not nearly the best the hotel had to offer, well within the normal budgetary requirements of his department. He was just getting ready for a quick shower when he heard a knock at his door. Opening it, he was confronted by a Major wearing the insignia of the Judge Advocate General's office. "Come in," he offered, stepping out of the way and allowing the large man to enter. "What can I do for you?" "Good afternoon, Major," he said. "I am Jon Trevor, JAG Corps. The General thought you might like a little legal representation when you confront the Senate in the morning." "Why?," asked Major Caine, somewhat puzzled. "I haven't been accused of a crime have I?" "Not that I know of, but since this is the first time you have been interviewed by the subcommittee I believe I should warn you that they are a group of crusty old bastards who have no consideration of other's rights. If you don't have someone on your side that is extremely familiar with the law, you might get railroaded into something you will regret!" "I don't really think I will need anyone," explained Major Caine. "But if you think it will help?" "You never know. These men like to get what they want and it is my job to see that they get it, but in a legal fashion. Understand?" "Almost," said Major Caine. "Who do you work for, me or them?" "You," came the quick answer. "Although you could say I really work for them. Much the same way you work for them also." "I hope not," said Major Caine earnestly. "I would wish my job on no one," he said with a sly grin. Major Trevor smiled broadly. "I believe we will get along just fine," he laughed. "I often feel the same about my job!" At eight AM the following morning, Major Caine, dressed in his finest uniform met Major Trevor in a small antechamber near the rooms where the subcommittee for planetary defense met. "Are you ready?," asked Major Trevor. "We have been given the first spot on the agenda. It seems they think your case is rather important." Major Caine extended his hand toward the doors of the chamber, allowing Major Trevor to lead the way through the unfamiliar building. A short distance away they stopped in front of a set of bronze double doors. "Here we are Major," he announced. He turned to the two guards at the door. Major Caine and Major Trevor," he said. "We have been called by the subcommittee." "Yes sir," spoke one of the guards. "We were told to expect Major Caine but were told nothing of you!" "You aren't going to try to keep me out are you?," he asked. "Oh no, sir. You are of course free to go on in." "Thank you Sergeant," Major Hadley said to the guard, opening the right door." "See what I mean?," he said to Major Caine. "You would never believe that these hearings are open to the public, would you?" "They are?," said Major Caine in astonishment. "Then why all of the security?" "Simple," Major Trevor explained. "If you don't know your rights then you don't have them. Here, you must take them or you don't get them at all. "Damn," said Major Caine, appreciating Major Trevor's presence already, even before they had gotten into the chambers. They walked through a small antechamber and entered the larger room through an open archway in the back of the room. In front of them lay a large U shaped table, with twelve men seated around it. In front of the open section stood a podium. "Please approach the podium and state your name," one of the Senators said." "I don't believe," interrupted the only woman on the subcommittee, "that we invited you, Major Trevor!" "Just thought I'd wander in and see what you all were doing today," said Major trevor flippantly." "Nothing here has any concern of yours," said the first man. "Nothing?," asked Major Trevor. "Perhaps just the fact that you are meeting at all today is of interest to me. And if you feel that way, call in one of your guards and have me removed!" "Now, now," soothed the woman. "We cannot dispute your right to be here. We only suggest that it isn't wise." "I have rarely been accused of being wise," Major Trevor said, sinking into one of the empty chairs set at the table. "Please continue, and pretend that I am not here." The man seated at the very end of the right U arm suddenly checked his wrist comp. "Sorry Senator," said Major Trevor. "But I do know the rules. My comp is disabled at the moment. I would not be so stupid to try to illegaly record these proceedings. You cannot get rid of me that easily." "As long as you realize that none of this may be recorded by anyone other than us and the man being questioned himself," said the woman. "Of course," Major Trevor said sweetly. "When have I ever been one to break the rules? Oh, by the way, Major. I would suggest that you do record the proceedings. That way you can check the official record against your own copy to insure everything is correct." "Are you accusing us of tampering with official records?," said the first man loudly. "Me?, no. I would never accuse you of that. But it is known that no one is perfect, and mistakes have been known to happen." Major Caine set his own wrist comp to record mode, wondering why Major Trevor was antagonizing them. "Well, Major," said the woman. "I hope you are easier to get along with than Major Trevor here is." Major Caine then realized that the man had been redirecting any animosity the group felt toward himself and away from himself. "Much, Senator. I am here simply to answer all of your questions as completely as I can." "Good," she said, glaring at Major Trevor. "Can you explain your actions concerning the disappearance of Dr Quade?" she asked bluntly. Major Trevor gasped in astonishment but Major Caine ignored the interruption. "We traced an illegal entry to an unauthorized terminal coupled directly to the main core of the Worldnet. From that terminal was entered an order to arrest and detain Dr Quade. Unfortunately, the order was directed to my department specifically and I personally saw to the arrest and detainment of Dr. Quade." "We are aware of that fact, Major. That is why we asked you to testify. Do you have any idea who placed the tap?" "No, but it's location might interest you." "And where is that," asked an old man, speaking for the first time. "We found it in an unused office in this very building!," announced Major Caine to a stunned subcommittee. "Perhaps you people are not that good at security either," said Major Trevor happily. "Who was the office assigned to?," asked the old man. "To a Senator Polkova," announced Major Caine. "The old man fell back into his chair, his face turning red and gasping for breath." "Now Senator," spoke the woman. No one doubts your loyalty. It surely was a blind setup!" "That's Senator Polkova," said Major Trevor. "Damn near gave him a heart attack that time. His pretty wife will be disappointed," he said, irony twisting his words. "As of yet we cannot find out who actually occupied the office last. But yes, it does not seem to have ever been actively used by Senator Polkova's staff." "Thank you, young man," said the Senator, regaining some of his composure. "Go on," he ordered. "After taking him into custody and placing him in a holding cell in the London branch of Internal Security, near his home, someone, still using the illegal tap changed his information and he was transferred to North Africa and sent up on the last shuttle to the Oppenheimer and on out to Mars. "This gets more and more interesting every minute," said Senator Polkova. "I hope you have a good explanation for everything?" "Actually, I do. I was acting on signed orders from the World Senate. Specifically, the Subcommittee on Planetary Defense!" "And you expect us to believe that?," gasped Senator Polkova. "Do you take us to be fools? We would never order something like that!" "And how was I supposed to know that? All counterseals were in order and I even got confirmation from your office when I asked for clarification!" "We are all obviously a victim of massive computer fraud," said the woman. "Until we discover who is actually responsible, we must not be quick to blame anyone." She turned to confront Senator Polkova. "Agreed Senator?" "Yes, damnit, I agree," Senator Polkova snarled. "But someone has to be held responsible!" "Good," she said. " As long as it is the guilty party and not one of the victims. Shall we continue?" "I take it then that you have since retrieved him?" "No sir, I have not. We were second guessed at Mars and he was whisked out from under our noses before we could catch him. We traced him finally to a ship called the Runner, which set out for Ceres shortly after Dr Quade arrived on Mars." "And where is the Runner now?," asked Senator Polkova. "Ceres," answered Major Caine. "Probably being broken up right now as we speak!" "Broken up?, asked the woman. "Why?" "She suffered a massive asteroid strike while on the way to Ceres and was destroyed, with complete loss of crew and passengers!" "WHAT!? Shouted Senator Polkova. "Dead? Impossible!" "You really should learn to control yourself better, Senator," said the woman. "Or we might just be dealing with your replacement soon!" She said to the still red-faced man. "That Bitch will never get MY seat!," he huffed, still panting for breath." "I beg to differ, Senator. If you foolishly choose to die before the elections, the seat is hers and you know it! Besides which, I am getting tired of being the only woman on this subcommittee!" "Already plotting to get rid of me?," he asked no one in particular. "I am tougher that that," he sneered. Baiting Senator Polkova seemed to be a popular pastime here, thought Major Caine. He more and more appreciated Major Trevor's initial action to redirect any animosity away from him. "So what are you going to do next?," asked Senator Polkova finally. "I don't know," admitted Major Caine. "We only have one man on Alpha but we are trying to introduce more." "Only one?," asked the woman, puzzled. "I was sure you reported getting one more aboard successfully." "Yes, we managed to get one additional agent on the Runner with Dr Quade. Unfortunately, He died along with the rest. So we still only have one man on board. And I refuse to jeopardize his position until I have at least two more men on Alpha." "A wise decision," said the woman. "Is there anyone else capable of finishing the work on the Beanstalk?" "Fortunately, yes," said Major Caine. We found complete sets of drawings and instructions for completing the beanstalk. I have turned it over to two of the best men in the field and they assure me that there will be no problem." "Good," said Senator Polkova. "Anything else?" "No, that sums it all up," he said finally. "Please stay in Zurich until we officially release you," said the man at the end of the table. "We wish to correlate your data and facts. If we have more questions we will call for you again." Major Caine took that as his dismissal, turning to leave as he came in. "And take that other person with you," said Senator Polkova to Major Caine's back. "They really don't like you, do they," Major Caine said to Major Trevor after they had left the chamber. "No, not at all. But they have learned to tolerate me and respect me somewhat.. I will say though that I haven't seen anything like that since I started here. Well worth the wait too." "What do you mean?," asked Major Caine. "The way you handled them," replied Major Trevor. "You played them like a master. You are wasted on Security, you should be in the JAG corps." "Me? A lawyer? No way. I'll stay just where I am, thank you! Tell me," Major Caine asked finally. "Are there any good restaurants around here?" "Sure, over in Old Zurich," replied Major Trevor with a grin. "If you will allow me to catch a ride with you I'll show you one of my favorites." "You're on," said Major Caine, delighted. "Major Trevor," he thought "Just might turn out to be a useful friend and ally. "She still handles like a pig," announced Joe to no one in particular. "There's got to be something we can do." "What did you say?," asked Charlie, looking up from his meal. The two of them, with Shaun and Michaela were seated in a small cafeteria around the corner from Charlie's labs. "She's a pig," Joe said again. She doesn't fly, she wallows. We couldn't outrun a garbage scow let alone the ships that will be waiting in Earth orbit." Charlie looked at Shaun for confirmation. "He's right," Shaun admitted. "Something's wrong and we cannot find it. Neither can the maintenance crew." Do you want me to look into it?," asked Charlie. "This is serious. That ship should be fast. It should be one of the fastest ships in the system. Are you sure you are getting max power out of the engines?" "All readouts indicate one hundred percent," chipped in Michaela. "That was one of the first things we checked. All engines are working as they should." "Did you check the engines themselves or are you relying on the computer?" "Why, the computer," admitted Shaun. "But you wrote that program." "So? You all forget I can make mistakes too. Check it out, and see what you find. Then tell me and I'll try to rework the program for you." "And if that doesn't work?," asked Joe. "We'll worry about that when it arrives. Assuming there is nothing wrong with the engines, there has to be a problem with the control systems. How does the simulator handle?" "Great. Better than we had hoped. But actual performance falls short of that." "The same program was used in both the simulator and the Giant-killer. Then it must be an incompatibility in the programming. Something that was added to get it to run on the simulator?" "Nothing that I know of," said Shaun. "But it gives us another possibility to check. They were interrupted by the entrance of the maintenance chief. He walked up to Charlie and dropped a handful of chips on the table. "Keep those damn things out of my ship," he said. Charlie looked at him, puzzled. "What's wrong with them?" "Don't know," he said. "With these damn things in, the engines are running at forty percent but they report one hundred percent!" He said nothing else but turned and stalked sulkingly out of the room. "Well, that answers that question," said Charlie with a laugh. Hard man to work with huh?" "Hard?," asked Joe incredulously. "Nearly impossible is more like it. But he does know his job though." "Well, leave him alone and let him do it then, is my advice," said Charlie. "That's pretty much what everyone does around him," admitted Shaun. "He refuses to admit that a pilot might just know something about his ship." "Well," said Charlie, in a conciliatory tone. "Let me ask you three a question. Do you know as much as he does?" "Of course not!," exclaimed Michaela, as the other two shook their heads in agreement. "I guess he may be right then," said Charlie, smiling at their discomfort. "Leave him alone and just concentrate on what you are supposed to learn and let him get the ship operational, okay?" "Yeah, sure," said Shaun grudgingly. "It just makes a man mad to be treated like an idiot sometimes." "I understand," said Charlie. Now if you will excuse me, I want to find out why these chips don't work properly." Shaun, Michaela and Joe returned to the remains of their meal as Charlie scooped up the defective chips and headed back to his labs. There was a soft knock on Salvattoro's office door. "Come in," he called. The door opened and Dr Quade entered. "Sit," said Sal, standing and indicating a single chair by his small desk. "I apologize for the size of the place," Sal began. "No need to apologize," said Charlie. "To each according to his needs, right?" "More like 'to each according to where they put him regardless of his needs'" Sal said with a laugh. "But what can I do for you?" Charlie reached into an inside pocket and removed a small plastic case and handed it over to Sal. Inside were the six micro-chips that the Maintenance supervisor had removed from the Giant killer. "We seem to have a small problem," Charlie began. Sal removed one of the chips and examined it. "So what's wrong?" "These chips were removed from the engine control system of the Giant Killer. The program was written by me and ran successfully in the simulator for months until the program was dumped into the main computer and integrated into the engine system." "What happened?," asked Sal curiously. "There was a virus lodged in the main system aimed at this particular program. It cut total engine power down to forty percent while reporting that they were producing one hundred percent." "Where did the virus come from?," asked Sal. "More like a who," said Charlie to a surprised Sal. "That's why I am bringing it to you. That virus was far too sophisticated to have been a mistake. And it was far too hard to kill. We found copies of it in the strangest places. Places that you would never normally think of looking for a control system virus." "Like where?," asked Sal, realizing that the more information he had the better the chance of finding the perpetrator. "Would you believe in the coffee pot?" Not the pot itself of course but in the control circuitry. It IS connected to the main computer system. After all that's where it derives all of it's automatic functions from." "Anywhere else?" "A few in the main core where you would expect it and on a few of the poerating chips, and we are still looking. But so far that's the strangest place we have found a copy. "So what happens if you miss one?" "Now, nothing. We have redesigned the control program, rendering this particular virus ineffective. But we are looking at everything, trying to discover if any more have been planted." "So what do you want me to do?," asked Sal, jokingly. "Security doesn't usually cure viruses. Maybe you should be talking to medical. Perhaps they can come up with a vaccination?" "Actually," said Charlie with a grin. "You aren't that far off. One of my bright young assistants is now trying to create a vaccine that will search out and kill this particular virus and any more that are similar. "But he is having no end of troubles. Whoever created it made it virtually impervious to the normal vaccines we use today. So it's been a long slow process of examining every line of programming, looking for any small, encapsulated program." "Have you found anything else yet?" "So far, just the one. But what bothers us is, this one is so sophisticated that whoever wrote it, if he is on Alpha could probably hide something in the system and we would miss it simply because it isn't a virus as we are used to seeing them." "I begin to understand your problem," said Sal gravely. "Could it have come in from another source by accident?" "That's a possibility we are looking into. But, it looks like this virus was written specifically for the control program. It is different from the normal programs in the other ships. And it does nothing if introduced to some other control system." "So now the hard part begins," admitted Sal. "Do you have any suspects?," he asked hopefully. "No, I don't," Charlie said, helplessly. "We have run all of the vaccine programs through the main system and turned up nothing. Whoever did this has to be stopped and fast. Since this attempt failed, I am afraid to see what he tries next." "Any ideas?" "A few," he said. "One, we can change the operating system to report ALL changes and send them to a printer. Any time a program is changed or entered, we can get a copy of it printed out and see what is being put into the system. "EVERYTHING?," asked Sal incredulously. "Have you any idea how many changes are made daily?" "No, but I have a feeling that I am going to find out. We also can divorce the ship from the main system and anything that goes into the ship is brought in on discrete chips. That way we can examine each chip before it goes in and hopefully protect the ship that way." "That's a good idea," said Sal. "How many people know that you suspect sabotage?" "Most of my top people plus Shaun, Joe and Michaela. the Maintenance chief and probably at least his top people. Maybe a few more but not many." "Too many already," said Sal unhappily. "I was hoping to keep a better lid on it but it's too late now. However, anything we decide now, we MUST keep to ourselves if we hope to be effective. Can you change the operating system to show any changes alone?" "Sure," said Charlie. "That's easy." "Good. "Do so and have the destination routed to my office. I will find a man to examine the results if you will show him what he is to look for." "You realize he has to be a programmer, don't you? In fact he should be an expert. The better he is the easier the job will be." "Don't worry," said Sal. "I have just the man in mind. How soon can you integrate the changes?" "Today if that's not too soon?" "Immediately, if not sooner. But do me a favor will you?" "Sure Sal, what?," asked Charlie. "Just tell him what he has to know and no more. I want to keep as much of a lid on this as possible." "Okay," agreed Charlie. "But aren't you being a bit too suspicious?" "Hell no!," exclaimed Sal. "You can never be too suspicious." He stood and held the door open for Charlie. "And welcome to the paranoid world of security and espionage," he said with a grin as Charlie left the small office. Later that afternoon, Charlie returned to Sal's office. Once there, he was met by Sal and a young man. "This is Randy Applegate. He is the programmer who will be examining the programs you send him." Charlie looked the young man over. He was of average height, long sandy brown hair and a light complexion. He was dressed in a pair of bluish pants and a tee shirt with a picture of a Cray 3a computer printed on it. He and Charlie shook hands briefly "I am Dr Quade," he said. "Yes sir, I have heard of you and I saw you on the vid when you first arrived," he said excitedly. "I am glad that I have the opportunity to work with you." "I haven't seen you around before," said Charlie. "Who do you work for?" "Sanitation," Randy said hesitantly. Charlie raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "How about showing us how the system works?," said Sal. "Uh, sure," said Charlie. He stepped over to the vid, calling up the first batch of changes. "All of the system changes have been sent here to be looked at. Do you know why we are doing this?," he asked Randy. "Yes sir," came the quick answer. "You are looking for anything out of the ordinary, especially viruses, right?" "Yes, exactly. If you do find something you think may be wrong, you can send it directly to my terminal here for me to look over. Anything at all that you think is suspicious. Do you understand?" "Completely, sir," Randy said. Shouldn't be too hard. Do you want me to correct them too?" "No, just let me see them. This will also tell us where the programs were entered from and give us an idea who is entering them so be sure to send the tag lines along also, okay?" "Sure, no problem. No problem at all." Charlie entered another string of commands, calling up a small program. "This is a copy of the virus that we have already found," he explained. Whoever wrote this is very good. He will try to disguise his work though so you must be vigilant." Randy examined the small program. "This?," he asked. "This has been around for years. It's a modification of a hookworm, created at Berkeley in 2024 and introduced into the Cray systems. It threw the California state tax system into complete disarray before it was stopped." "Can you kill it?" "Sure, no problem at all. Simple little program actually, but very sophisticated. Most systems can do things that their designers never thought of, but are there because of the complexity of the design. First you have to figure out what all of the short-cuts are. Then, using the principles that allow the short-cuts you write a program specifically using these principles. If done properly, it can spread through the system without anyone knowing it's there or interrupting any of the normal operations." "So what can be done about it?" "You're going to love this," said Randy. "The answer is a vaccine called a tiger. It hunts out any program that uses any of the short-cut steps and eradicated them from the core. It has a problem though in that it removes ALL of the programs using these steps but that is a small price to pay for the vaccine." Charlie turned to Sal with a smile. "Where did you find this guy?," he asked. "Sanitation," he said triumphantly. "Tell him who your grandmother was." "Cecelia Cray," said Randy to an astonished Dr. Quade. "She wouldn't..." "Yeah, she would," said Randy with a big grin. My great grandfather invented the Crays. Before I came out here I had a Cray 3A of my own. Antique, but fun to play with." "If I may ask, how did you get sent out here?" "Doing something that I shouldn't have," said Randy crossly. "You better tell him the whole story," interjected Sal or he won't trust you at all." "Okay," he said softly. "I crashed the core of the World Senate comp. "WHAT?," asked Charlie incredulously. "Worldnet? How did you do that?" "Easy. I reprogrammed the automatic power supplies for the memory drives and doubled all of the voltages. They burned out almost instantly, right down to the last one." "Why?," came the reply. "Why not?," Randy answered. "I was trying to get into the underground and thought it would impress my contact. It did. He was a plant from Internal Security and he turned me in." "I can see that," admitted Charlie. "But how did you get through the safeguards?" I slipped in my own password and it allowed me complete access. Hell, I wasn't even on the same continent. I was operating over my own satellite link." "Your own?," asked Charlie. "Yeah. I found a satellite with a damaged transponder and rerouted the auto-repair ship to fix it early. And then had complete use of it until it was officially reported repaired." "Then what?," asked Charlie, not sure whether to believe this or not. "How did you get your password in?" "Cray Engineering won a contract to redo one of the filing programs. My father oversaw that project and I encapsulated a bug to place my name, retina prints and voice prints in the main core. Then it was simple to get in and do anything I wanted. I thought that crashing the core would be the most spectacular thing that I could do." "I bet it got the desired results," said Sal. "And then some," said Randy with a laugh. "Boy, they were scurrying around like crazy trying to figure out what happened." "And then you told them?" "Yeah," Randy said unhappily. "If I hadn't said anything they probably would never have found out. Just passed it off as a power surge. In fact that is what they told the press. I don't think the Senate ever told anyone what really happened." "Not that I blame them," said Charlie. "I do remember hearing something about that though. If it was when I think it was, it raised one hell of a stink all right. And you did it?" "I am afraid so," admitted Randy shyly. "Okay then, I will admit that I had reservations about you at first but I believe that you will be perfect for the job," Charlie said, clapping the young man on the back. "The job's yours if you want it." "I do, I do," said Randy enthusiastically. "Good," said Charlie, stepping out of the room. He was followed out by Sal and together the two of them walked back towards Charlie's labs. "Are you sure he isn't the one who planted the virus in the first place?," asked Charlie when they had gotten a small way away from the office. "No I am not," said Sal. To be honest with you, I would like it if you would set up another monitor program to see what he enters from that terminal. He is in the unique position of sitting at the only vid that is un-monitored. Can you do it?" "Sure I can. But I will have to do it from that terminal. If I do it anywhere else he will know it." "Damn," said Sal. "I forgot about that. Okay, we will just have to wait until he breaks for dinner and do it then." Sal stopped in the corridor. "Let me know when you have the program ready. I will enter it as soon as he leaves" "I will dump it onto a memory chip and get it to you as soon as I can. What I will do is amend the send program so that whenever he sends anything along to me, it will also automatically send whatever was entered at his terminal. Will that do?," asked Charlie. "That will do fine," said Sal, pleased. "You can find me in my quarters until then," he said, heading off down the corridor, away from Charlie. Later that day, Charlie, Joe and Sal met in his room, after the modified program had been entered on Sal's office comp. "How sure are you that Randy is not the man we are looking for?," asked Charlie. "Not sure at all," answered Sal. "But I don't think so. First, he was too open about where the program came from and, second, he showed us how to kill it." "Yes, there is that," said Charlie. "I showed it to my assistant, the one who was trying to develop his own vaccine and he admitted that it was far above anything he could have come up with. In fact he admitted that extra features in the system had never occurred to him and he is fascinated with the idea. I expect a few interesting things out of the man when he figures out what is really going on in the core. "So if it isn't Randy, then who?," asked Joe. "We will have to wait and see," admitted Sal. Since the program is an old one, it could have been modified by almost anyone with an understanding of programming procedures. So now we are not really looking for a computer expert but anyone with computer experience." "That could be almost anyone," said Charlie. "Have you given any thought as to how he communicates with his people?" "I have been giving that some thought and have a few ideas," said Sal. "He could have a small signalling laser, or a small radio, although that could be overheard too easily." "The laser isn't a very good prospect because he would need to be outside to use it. He would also need some sort of directioning device to find whoever he wanted to talk to." "He could be a crew-member on one of our ships," added Joe. "That's true," admitted Sal. "I had thought of that also." "Is there any other way that you can come up with?," asked Charlie. "No, not really, other than by direct contact but I can't see how that is possible. I refuse to believe there is more than one saboteur on Alpha. How would he get into direct contact?" "How indeed," said Charlie. "How?," asked Joe. "Now wait a minute. A while back, didn't an unidentified mining ship land a couple of men on the North pole?" "Yes!," exclaimed Sal. "It's not that uncommon, really. Usually a ship will pass by and look us over and then keep going." "But three or four times a year," continued Joe, "one comes by that is more persistent and actually lands men for a closer look!," he said triumphantly. "What if they were not really looking at the asteroid but picking up or dropping something off?," asked Charlie. "Possible," said Sal. "Very possible. But how do we check it out? Whatever they left behind has been long since retrieved." "True," admitted Joe. "And going out there would probably tip whoever he is off. No, there has to be another way." "How about if we set up a fake drop?," asked Sal. "You mean use one of our own ships as the courier?," Asked Joe. "Sure. If we remove the transponder that the security ship recognizes, then they will not know it is us. Then we sit back and watch what happens. Hopefully our agent will think it is an emergency message drop and go out to see what is there." "Assuming of course that this is really how they communicate," added Joe. "Sure," said Sal. "But there is no harm in trying, is there?" 10 "I think it is definitely worth a try," said Charlie. At least it will eliminate one method of contact. And right about now we need to start eliminating as much as we can. We also need to catch this guy before the giant-killer leaves for Earth." "Yes, you have that right," agreed Sal. "Who do you think we should get to fly the mission? I think we should keep as much of a lid on this thing as possible." "The three of us for sure," agreed Sal. I'll be happy if we can keep it among just the three of us." "That may be hard," interjected Charlie. I'm sure that Director Yoon will not let Joe and I just waltz off with one of his ships without a good explanation." "Yoon then," agreed Sal. "Anyone else?" "Shaun O'Cassidy," said Joe. "Charlie here isn't a pilot and I sure would like a backup. Or be the backup for that matter." "Shaun or Michaela?," asked Sal. "Of the two, to be honest, Shaun is the better pilot. And Michaela's boyfriend might wonder about any unexplained absences. Shaun would be better." "Done then. "Anything else?" "The Maintenance Chief," said Charlie. "We will have to disguise the ship so it won't be recognized. Who better than him?" "Can't we do that ourselves once you are away from Alpha?," asked Sal. "Have you ever tried to paint in a vacuum?," asked Joe. All of the liquid in the paint boils away, leaving a powder. It has to be done pressurized." "That's assuming we paint," said Charlie. "How about big metallic decals?" We can place them over the numbers, and we can make other magnetic pieces to attach here and there, breaking up her lines.'" "Excellent," said Sal. "We can occupy one of the big unused labs out near the north pole. There is one there that we can open to space to remove everything we come up with. Then all we have to do is pick it up on our way out." "I see we have our work cut out for us for a few weeks," said Joe. "You all realize that we must not shirk our normal jobs to remain inconspicuous." "I see I am soon going to dislike espionage," complained Charlie. At least once I start to lose sleep, that is." "I," said Sal, "will talk to Director Yoon. Who wants to fill Shaun in. Charlie?" "I'll do it," Charlie agreed. "I seem to get along with him better than Joe does." "You're just the only one he can beat at cards," said Joe. "Of course he likes you." The three men left the room one at a time, Joe leaving first and heading back to his room, followed a short time later by Charlie, heading toward Shaun's room. Sal left last, waiting till both were out of sight before heading for a meeting with Director Yoon." "I've got three more things," said Randy, over the comlink into Dr Quade's lab. "Two I don't understand and one that just looks suspicious to me." "Okay," said Charlie. "Send them over and I'll have a look at them. The watching game had been going on for two weeks now and so far they had turned up nothing definite. Charlie turned to Joe, who was visiting him, the Giant-killer undergoing a few last-minute changes. "Either he isn't our man or he's laying low," said Charlie. So far he hasn't done anything to raise suspicion. One thing I want to know is, what was he doing in sanitation?" "I asked about that," Joe admitted. "It seems that no one trusts him around the computers. After what he did to worldnet, no one wants to take the chance." "Except Sal." "I don't think anyone other than us know he is doing what he is doing," said Joe. "I am positive that Director Yoon would have a fit if he knew. He is the man who insisted on keeping him out of the compnet. And has single-handedly kept him away since he got here." "And how long is that?," asked Charlie." "Six years or so." "Six years?," asked Charlie. "He doesn't look that old." "He is the youngest deportee on record," agreed Joe. He was sent here when he was eleven." "He crashed Worldnet at eleven?" "No, ten. It just took them a while to catch him!" Said Joe to a very surprised Charlie. The next day, both Charlie and Joe received a summons to meet Sal in a small conference room close to Sal's office. Arriving there, they found Sal waiting with Shaun. "I have filled Shaun in on nearly everything that we have discussed," began Sal. We have also called up the comp records and checked all of the different ships that have landed here in the last two years. Would either of you care to guess at what I found?" "We were right?," asked Charlie hopefully. "Yes!," said Sal triumphantly. "We have identified three different ships that have made nearly ninety percent of the landings. And they also made a number of flyby's without landing. Clearly someone knows we are here. And most likely it is someone we don't want to know!" "Then we are going ahead with the plan?," asked Joe. "Most definitely," agreed Sal. "But we now have to disguise our ship to look like one of the regulars. Or our spy might not take the bait." "Absolutely," agreed Charlie. "We haven't gotten our disguise department into full production yet so it should be no problem to complete the new disguise." "Very good," agreed Sal. "Captain O'Cassidy here has agreed to be either chief pilot or backup, whichever you decide," finished Sal, leaving the final choice up to Joe." "I am completely comfortable to act as backup," said Shaun. "After all, this is your operation. I appreciate being let into it but I feel that it is your show." "Thanks," said Joe, appreciating what the older man was doing. They both knew that as a senior pilot he could demand mission commander status and get it if he wanted. "So what do we do now?," asked Shaun. "Finish work on the ship," said Sal. "Director Yoon has already been apprised of the new situation and he is planning on moving Alpha as soon as we catch the spy." "How often do you move Alpha?," asked Charlie curiously. "Every couple of years or so," said Sal. "We have been here nearly three years now. "And how soon after arriving here did the ships start arriving?," continued Charlie. "Hold on a minute," said Sal, turning to his comp. He was silent for a few minutes as he compiled the data. "Almost exactly one month," he reported finally. "I missed that before because I only went back two years. "Interesting though. Somehow they know when we move and where we go almost immediately." "There are a number of answers to that," said Charlie. "The easiest is to keep a telescope centered on us. Or just as easily, a microwave laser. That way the laser could keep track of us automatically. If we move, the laser simply tracks us. Simple, neat, and hard to break." "And easy to check," said Charlie. "I'll get on it immediately," said Sal. "I can order a random sweep of all frequencies without telling the monitors what specifically we are looking for." "But if we are being monitored, what can we do about it?," asked Shaun. "We break the lock," said Charlie. "One thing we can try is to determine the frequency of the return signal and feed them a signal that is amplified a couple of hundred percent and attempt to burn out the receiver." "That depends on how sophisticated the equipment is," said Joe. "If it is a sampling type receiver, it will simply shut down when it begins to detect an overload, and we cannot take the chance on that. We have to shut it down the first time because we won't get to use the same trick twice." "I agree," said Sal. "The only way we can assure ourselves of removing the trace is to remove the equipment ourselves, permanently." "Or at least long enough to find a new hiding place," said Charlie. "Director Yoon will not like this," predicted Sal. "He was mad enough about moving in the first place." "But surely he understands the importance of remaining hidden?," asked Joe. "He agreed to move," said Sal, in reply. "He just isn't happy about it. It takes a lot of fuel to move this rock. And we don't have a lot of that to spare." "Then it's time to bring Vittorio Lisenring into our little conspiracy," announced Charlie. "What we have been doing this last week has actually fallen under the guise of dirty tricks. And now I believe we need the experience of his organization." "I'll call him. If he's free, we can fill him in now," said Sal, turning to the room comp. After a few minutes, the door annunciator chimed and Sal released the comp lock, allowing Jodane to enter." "Good day gentlemen," he said, seating himself in one of the empty chairs. "A fine bunch of conspirators if I do say so myself." Sal looked surprised. "What brings you to that conclusion?," he asked. "You all have been acting strange for the last two weeks now. A lot of us know that you are cooking something up but no one seems to know quite what!" "Are we really that transparent?," asked Joe, also somewhat taken aback. "Transparent?, no. The secrecy of your group is admirable. Slightly opaque is more like it. Something is going on and everyone who knows of it is being very tight-lipped. I must congratulate you on your ability to keep a secret." "Well, now you get to find out what is going on because frankly, we need your help," said Sal. "I am flattered to be asked to join such a distinguished group and I am curious about what I could add." "Quite a bit really," said Charlie. "Mostly your experience in running a dirty tricks department." The four of them spent most of the afternoon filling Jodane in on what was happening and found they had picked the right man. He had a number of good suggestions. "Laser?," said Jodane, to the surprise of the group. "We found that long ago. There just has been no reason to do anything about it yet." "What?," stuttered Sal. "Why didn't you say anything?" "Say what? There was nothing anyone could do about it until we move again. But when we do, watch out!" "What do you plan to do?," asked Charlie." "We have a mega-laser set up, primed and ready. When we get ready to move, we'll fire it back along the path of the infrared and fry it good!," he said, laughing. We'll teach them who to watch and who to leave alone!" "Not bad," said Joe, impressed. "But didn't you ever wonder who was watching us?" "That was easy too. The laser is on a big military asteroid twenty degrees ahead of Ceres." He turned to address Charlie. "I believe you referred to it as the 'Rock' a while back!" "Damn," said Sal. "What else do you know? I thought that the location of the Rock was a secret." "It's hard to be secret when they advertise it so well," said Jodane. "Although to be truthful, we found them long before they found us." "But how did you find them?" asked a curious Joe. "Radiation," explained Jodane. "Ceres used to be the asteroid body with the highest amount of radiated signals. About four years ago they were surpassed by the Rock. It's like putting a beacon up for those who can read it!" "And you can?," asked Joe. "Of course," replied Jodane. "Whatever we have to do to survive is worth the effort. And anything that will give us an early warning helps us survive." "Agreed," said Sal. "I have no problem there. But how can we turn it to our own advantage?" "Frying the laser will help," said Jodane. "But it will just spark off a big hunt until they find us once again. We need something else to distract them. We also need a way to replace the fuel and reaction mass we will use in moving this bus." "Got any ideas?," asked Shaun. "One," Jodane said. "Disguising a ship to match one of the watchers is good but I suggest we take it one step further. If we set up a big telescope and watch Ceres, when one of the ships leaves, we can fake an accident, like say, an asteroid strike in the main fuel tank and return to Ceres. We then allow them to repair the break and refuel the ship for free!" "Not bad," said Shaun admiringly. "Not bad at all." "But there is more to bringing off that kind of masquerade than just returning to Ceres with a damaged ship," objected Sal. "You are absolutely right," agreed Jodane. "That's where a good dirty tricks department comes in handy. We have been actively collecting information about all of the ships in this quadrant of the belt and keeping anything about any ship that happens to come our way. I have built up a system of spies and watchers. Hardly anything happens on Ceres that I don't know about." "So what do you think we should do?," asked Sal. "Finish disguising the ship, first," said Sal. "I can assemble a comp package that can convince the security comp on Ceres we are anyone we want to be. But I want my comp expert back first!" "Comp expert?," asked Sal. "Yes. Randy. I have been using him for quite a while now to assemble packages that I don't want any other department to find out about. He is the best on Alpha, and probably the best in the belt." "Then would we be off-base in assuming he is our spy?" "Randy a spy?," laughed Jodane. "Hell no. But he is loyal. He has been reporting to me regularly but will not tell me what he is specifically doing, just that it is interesting work and that I should find some way to get involved!" "That relieves my mind on a number of things," said Sal. "He's your man then?" "Always has been," admitted Jodane. He was the first man I recruited into the department." "So we will have to look somewhere else for our spy?," asked Shaun. "It looks that way," agreed Sal sadly. "Anyway, we will find him later," said Charlie. First thing to do is modify the ship. Two of the courier ships are of a class we have a few of. It shouldn't be hard to do a general disguise and then finish the job on the way to Ceres once we find out which identity we will assume." "Yes, good," agreed Sal. "I will go talk to Director Yoon right away and tell him of the new developments. I am sure he will release a ship to us immediately and we can get to work on it tomorrow." The four men nodded in agreement as Sal left the room, looking for the Director. The next day the maintenance supervisor had a small ship moved into one of the empty rings and erected a bubble around it, locking it onto the collar before pressurizing it. Joe watched the entire operation seated in the supervisor's office. He was impressed by the competence of the men doing the transferring, completing the task far earlier than he would have believed. Once completed, Joe entered the ship through the lower airlock and began inspecting the ship to see what kind of modifications it would need. The first thing that was done was assembling a large reaction mass tank inside the main hold. This would hold enough water to get them to and from Ceres. They then punctured the main tank and placed a flimsy patch over the hole, then refilling the tank with a small amount of water. The whole modification job taking three days to complete. The repainting took longer but by the end of the week all general modifications were done. By this time, the magnetic decals had been finished by the lab and soon loaded onto the ship in preparation of the launch, and the day soon came when the ship was moved out from her bubble and moored with the rest of the fleet, awaiting her mission launch. Jodane, with the help of Randy had quickly completed the programming package and installing it in the ships comp core long before she was ready for launch. Charlie had taken upon himself the task of setting up the watch on Ceres, finding three people from his department to do the actual watching without telling them why they were watching, only what to look for. One afternoon Jodane entered Charlie's main lab and found him in his small office examining a comp screen. "I just got word," Jodane said," that the Javelin, one of the ships we are watching for, has just left Ceres. The operation is on in eight hours." Charlie stood, blanking the screen first. "Finally," he said. Where are Joe and Shaun?" "On board, getting ready to go," answered Jodane." "Fine, said Charlie, pleased. "I want to check out the programming. Coming?," he asked Jodane." "Of course," he replied. "Randy is already there, doing just that but I'm sure he will appreciate the help," he said as the two men left the lab complex, heading toward the docks. There they met with Shaun and Joe, watching Randy with interest as he ran a few complex vaccine programs. "Can't be too sure," Randy said as the last program ran nul. "Nothing huh?," asked Jodane. "No," confirmed Randy. "Clean as a whistle. No one's been in here since we installed the programming." "How about hidden viruses?," asked Joe. "After all, we found one in the coffee pot of the Giant-Killer. "MY vaccine would have killed it," Randy answered indignantly. "It checks ALL microprocessor-based systems sharing time with the core. And with my updated version, any new systems added are automatically innoculated before allowing them access to the core. "Sorry," Joe apologized. "It's just that I am nervous as hell and I am just trying to reassure myself." "It's okay," said Randy. "I know how it is. I am used to being put down because of my age. I must not know much because I'm not very old. You might not have had it happen to you but I am sure you understand." "Everyone back to work," announced Shaun. "We can all get together and socialize after it's all over. I don't know about you," he said to Joe, "But I am going to take a nap and leave the rest of the checkout to more capable hands," he said, nodding to Jodane and Charlie. "Yeah," agreed Joe walking toward the airlock with Shaun. "Sounds like a good idea to me." A little over eight hours later the pair met once again at the docks. Sal and Jodane were waiting for them on the bridge of the small ship. "The dock superintendent has supplied us with an engineer for the trip," said Sal. "He knows a little, but only what he needs to know to get the job done. He is waiting on the bridge for you." Joe stepped forward and grasped Charlie's hand, shaking it warmly. "In case this doesn't work and I don't see you again," he began. "Charlie raised a single hand, interrupting Joe. "No," he said. "We will all get together afterwards and have a little party, okay?" "Sure," agreed Joe. "That will be fine. Sal stepped forward and handed Joe a small box. "This is something for the trip back," he said with a sly grin. "Good luck," Sal told both of them, stepping back out of the airlock. Neither man said anything as Joe sealed the hatch with one final wave. Together they went back to Security's monitoring room to watch the departure. In silence they watched the ship detach itself from the mooring mast and, using the least possible amount of power, carefully turned the nose of the ship towards the big exit door and slowly slipped out and into space." "There they go," said Sal at last, as the hatch closed behind them. Neither man said anything else, lost in their own private thoughts about the mission. 11 Joe sat silently in the copilot's chair, watching as Shaun slowly maneuvered the small ship out of the spinning asteroid. Privately he was glad that Shaun was piloting. Although he had flown this maneuver many times in the simulator, it wasn't the same as real life. In the simulator if you made a mistake, you tried it again. Here there would be no second chance. Finally the huge hatch slid out of view behind them and they were confronted by the vista of open space. Joe let his eyes scan all of his instruments, monitoring their progress even though he wasn't doing anything yet. Slowly Shaun applied power to the engines and the ship began moving faster and faster. "Give me the coordinates for Ceres," Shaun asked tersely, keeping his attention firmly on the tasks at hand. Joe fed him the data from his own station comp, saying nothing, trying to keep from distracting Shaun while he worked. Shaun piloted the craft slowly, twisting his ship through the small cluster of asteroids that were as much protection for Alpha as a nuisance to the ships flying there. Finally, the last of the rocks safely behind them, Shaun set the autopilot and released control of the ship. "We have only a few minutes before we have to be in the plotting room," he said. "Shall we go?" The two men released their safety harnesses and made their way out of the bridge and into central plotting. "How long is the flight to Ceres?," asked Joe. "About ten days total," said Shaun. "I want to get us up and out of the plane of the ecliptic and away from the main rock areas. Luckily for us, Alpha is situated right on the edge of the plane so it won't take long. Then the autopilot can take us in most of the way. A couple of hours here and we will be all done." "Good," said Joe. "I don't want to think about flying all of the way there without an autopilot!" "Neither do I," laughed Shaun. "Had that been the plan, we would have needed more people than the minimum possible." Together the two men maneuvered the small ship until it was well clear of the main body of asteroids and well out of the plane of the ecliptic, finally turning over all control to the autopilot. "And now we wait," said Shaun. "Chess?" Joe and Shaun spent the next eight days engaged in various games of skill and chance until the comp chimed for attention and it was time to reenter the belt. "I hope you got enough sleep," said Shaun. "The next forty-eight hours are going to be rough!" And rough they were. One of them had to be in plotting at all times, to insure they didn't really get hit by an asteroid. They split the day into eight hour watches, each sleeping six of their off-duty eight hours. Twelve hours out of Ceres they were met by another mining ship, larger than they were and much newer. "Do you require assistance?," the new ship had asked after both had identified themselves. "No, thank you, signaled Shaun. "But you could signal Ceres and tell them we are coming in damaged. We lost our antennas in the strike." "You are lucky that's all you lost, except fuel," came the quick answer. "We will be glad to let them know you are coming in." Four hours out Ceres they were met by a tug who followed close alongside in case they needed assistance after all. Joe met the chief engineer and assisted him in rigging a temporary antenna, finally regaining communication with Ceres. "Ceres port to Ship Javelin," came the call shortly after completing the hookup." "Javelin here," called Joe. "Please feed us a damage report. You are vectored in to pad C7, closest to the maintenance shed. Are there any injuries?" "Be advised, Ceres port, there are no injuries to personnel. The asteroid hit the main fuel tank after shearing off the main antenna array. Stand by and I will link in our comp for a complete damage report." "Standing by, Ship Javelin. Our comp links are in." This was one of the important parts of the operation. Embedded in the damage report was an insideous little virus that would enter both Shaun and Joe in the Main Ceres comp but under fictitious names. "Ship Javelin, we have your report. Maintenance will be ready when you arrive." "Ship Javelin out," reported Shaun. "We will be landing in approximately two hours." "Ship Javelin, if you need to contact us, use emergency channel D. That has been set aside for your traffic only. Ceres Base out and good luck. After about two hours, with Ceres looming ahead, Shaun called back to Ceres Port Authority, requesting landing permission. With luck, the virus had done it's work and both he and Joe were now listed as crew-members. In any case they would know soon enough." "Ship Javelin," replied Ceres. "You are vectored in as an emergency landing, although we understand you are in no immediate danger. You may land at your convenience." "Ceres Port, Thank you from the Captain. Crew-member Michaels will meet your maintenance crew at the main airlock, to start repairs. You do understand that we have to be away again as rapidly as possible?" "Affirmative, Ship Javelin. We have a priority in our comp concerning you. We will get you repaired and on your way as soon as possible." "Thank you Ceres Port. Ship Javelin out until after landing." Shaun cut the com channel and turned to Joe. Well, crewman Michaels, it looks like they bought it. Good luck to you. I would help but I might be recognized." "I understand completely," said Joe. I hope that this doesn't take long though." "Yes, me too," agreed Shaun. "The longer we wait the more might go wrong." Shaun brought the Javelin in to a perfect landing on pad C7, nearly exactly centered in the big landing ring. Joe was waiting at the airlock in his pressure suit waiting for the all-clear before opening the door. Finally the signal came and Joe stepped through the opening door and jumped lightly down to the surface of Ceres. Close to the ship lay the big maintenance shed, where most of the light work was done on the fleet. Anything heavier was done at the shipyards on the back side of the asteroid. Alpha had carefully calculated what could and could not be done here and had tried to keep the job well within the capabilities of Ceres Port. Waiting for him on the surface were two men wearing suits marked with the distinctive colors of the Maintenance crew. "Crewman Michaels here," announced Joe over his suit-to-suit com channel." "Let's see what you did to her," came a gruff reply from one of the suits. Joe assumed it came from the senior man but he was unable to be sure. He led them around the ship until they were below the puncture and the temporary patch. He stood and watched as the two men jetted upward to inspect the damage. "How much reaction mass did you lose?," one asked. "Nearly all," Joe answered. "And what we saved we used getting back here. We're lucky to have made it in one piece!" "You are lucky all right. We can slap a better patch on her. It won't be a pretty job like the yard could do. And it looks like the antenna array you have will be okay for now. But be sure to get it all repaired when you next go in for refit, okay?" "No problem there," agreed Joe. "We are in a bit of a hurry right now and we really don't have enough time to get a permanent job done right now." "We'll get you back into space safely," the man said. Give us a few hours and you'll be done. If you wish, you can wait in the sheds." "Where are you headed?," asked the Maintenance chief after Joe had removed his helmet and accepted a cup of hot coffee. "Don't know," he said. "Never tell us anything." "Yeah, I know what you mean. All they told us was you were coming in holed and needed a rush job. We'll do it fast but it'll be done right. You'll have no trouble with those patches when we are finished." "It looks to me like you all know what you are doing," agreed Joe. "Mind if I use your comp?," he asked innocently. "Sure, go ahead," the man said. Joe shrugged his upper body out of the pressure suit and then walked over to the comp. He seated himself behind it, giving himself a complete view of the room before entering a twelve digit number on the keyboard. He smiled to himself when he saw that the password that had been entered with the virus take effect and allow him complete access to the computer system. He entered Shaun O'Cassidy's name and checked the status of his family He then removed a small chip from his pocket and inserted it in the reader, entering the data. He watched carefully as the chip built up a fictitious account, which allowed them to draw liberally from the stores of Ceres. He then entered a list of items needed by Alpha from a second chip, and then sent it over to stores to be filled while the ship was refueled. He logged off and shut the machine down before putting his pressure suit back on. He reclaimed his helmet and walked over to the main door, heading back toward the airlock. "Thanks Chief," he said to the Maintenance supervisor. "Good coffee." "Wife not at home?," he asked. "Uh.. No. I left a message though," he said quickly, covering his initial confusion. Once back outside, he stayed away from the ship and observed the operation going on. He nodded briefly as one of the two men passed him on the way back to the shed. "You don't mind," he said to the man, "If I stay out of your way and watch, do you?" "Don't mind at all," came the friendly reply. "Just be sure you ARE out of the way. It can be a bit dangerous if you don't know what you are doing." Joe smiled to himself. With his experiences on Leo and Armstrong, he probably knew as much about space construction as both of these men did but he knew enough not to let them know that. Instead he contented himself to sit back and watch. Joe found himself a seat outside the Maintenance shed and plugged his suit air into the shed's supply, refilling his tanks as he did so. The man soon reappearing with a portable welding laser and a big steel plate with a ring attached to it. He jetted back up the side of the ship and, with the help of the other man, soon had the ring welded to the side of the ship, directly above the temporary patch. They both then dropped down to the surface. Soon a tanker truck appeared and they, assisted by the crew of the truck soon had the main tank emptied into the truck. Next a steel cable was lifted and threaded through the ring Then a platform was hoisted up the side of the ship to serve as a stable work platform. Finally, one of the men sprayed the polymer patch with a dissolving agent and the whole mass of the temporary patch dissolved into a liquid that soon boiled away, leaving nothing but brown powder where the patch had been. They carefully inspected the puncture, then, using a more powerful laser powered by a cable stretching up from the maintenance shed, cut a larger hole in the skin of the ship, baring the hole in the tank itself. Large steel plates were carried out of the shed and then measured and cut to fit over the holes, the two men not bothering to even out the jagged edges of the inner hole. After working for about four hours, the first patch was finally ready to be hoisted up and welded into place, soon followed by the second and much larger patch. Finally, six hours after the job was begun, the crew was finished. They dropped the platform down to the surface and then pulled out the cable, leaving the ring attached to the ship to be used by the yards later when the permanent job would be done. "We will have you hooked up to the fueling station in about a half-hour," he said. Then it will be about two hours more to top off your tank." "Well, I better be getting back inside," said Joe as the two men disappeared inside the shed. He walked slowly back to the ship, peering upward at the small dot in the sky that was the sun. "So far away," he thought, momentarily homesick for the warm sunshine of Earth. He missed the wind and the sea, being able to look down and see the Earth floating below him. Out of reach yet close at hand. Knowing he could go back at any time had kept him from missing Earth while in space. But now, he didn't have that assurance and the distance he was from Earth finally hit home. He clambered up the ladder welded to the side of the ship and swung into the airlock, cycling through before removing his suit and replacing it in the locker near the entrance. He found Shaun in the control room, monitoring the communications channels. "No sign that we are suspect yet," he reported to Joe. "Good. I got our order in but I'm not sure that it will be here in time to catch us. If it makes it, it will be close. They are about ready to start filling the tank up." "Good. We cannot afford to wait if the trucks do not get here in time. We will just have to wait and see." "The order that Joe had entered was a list of equipment needed by Alpha. It was disguised as an order from the Rock and to be sent out by next available ship. Hopefully they will have it ready before the Javelin left, otherwise there would be some very puzzled clerks on the Rock when the order arrives. "I also pulled this from the comp," he said, handing Shaun the chip. Shaun placed it in the reader and dumped it's memory into the bridge comp. Joe had asked for a complete history of Shaun's family after the Runner accident. "Smart woman," he said finally, wiping a tear from his eye. "She entered a one year open-ended contract, renewable by agreement of both parties. This way when I do come back, if she wishes, she can come back with me. Or not, if she so chooses." "And that," thought Joe, "is where the tear came from. Not knowing if she will terminate the contract when Shaun reappears." At least he held no animosity toward her. They both knew that a woman with kids had to have the security of a husband in order to survive. It was tough on any single person but doubly so on a single parent family. "It's for the best," Joe said, trying to comfort the older man. "She'll be back. Don't worry." "Maybe, but then, maybe not. Who knows how long it will be before we return. And what then? What if she truly loves him?" "Neither of us can answer that." Neither man said anything for a while. "Well, we have a job to do. Let's not let our feelings get in the way of what we have to do," said Joe at last. Shaun shrugged, throwing off his gloom. "You're right," he said at last. "Let's see what they are doing to us." They switched the main monitor on to watch the progress of the refueling operation. They were just in time to see a big tractor dragging a large hose approach the ship and mate the end to the Javelin's exterior refueling station. Shaun switched on the flow meter to monitor the filling process and it wasn't long before water started to flow into the big tank. Up on the bridge they could feel the vibrations as the water splashed into the tank. "Look," said Joe, pointing out a pair of large pallet trucks approaching from a distance. "They are better than I expected. Here comes our order!" "Damn, partner, we are going to get away with it after all," laughed Shaun, all traces of despair long gone. "I'll go down to the lock and help in stowing the pallets," he said, leaving the bridge in the very capable hands of Shaun. Below, Joe got into his pressure suit and entered the auxiliary cargo hold and then swung the large cargo hatch open. He watched the two trucks maneuver around the large hose and approach the ship, one stopping and allowing the other to back into position. A powerful hydraulic cylinder then raised the bed of the truck up to match with the lip of the cargo hold. Joe, assisted by a handler from the truck, quickly moved the covered palates into the ship. The second truck then backed in and soon the loading was completed, Joe waving good-bye as the handlers climbed back into the trucks. He then swung the hatch closed as the two trucks pulled away from the ship and headed back to the cargo depot. Not long after that the tank showed full and the hose was disconnected and dragged away from the ship. "Ship Javelin," announced the bridge comp, "this is Ceres Port." "This is Ship Javelin," answered Shaun. "Go ahead Ceres Port." "You are cleared to leave when ready," ship Javelin. Emergency channel D is now cleared and any other instructions will be sent over the normal ship channels." "Understood, Ceres Port. We wish to leave as soon as possible, already being far behind schedule." "Ceres Port out, Ship Javelin. Have a safe trip." "That's that," said Shaun to Joe. "Call down to engineering and ask for max power as soon as possible?" Joe turned to his communicator and called the engineer below. "He reports that he kept the engines hot and ready to go. You have full power now if you want it." "No sense in making them mad," said Shaun. Lets make a nice, low power lift as if we belong here, okay?" "Fine by me, boss. Take her away." Below the two felt the rumblings of the powerful engines as the ship built up power and slowly lifted from the surface of Ceres. Once she was well clear of the asteroid, Shaun applied more power and soon the Javelin was rapidly leaving Ceres behind. "We did it!," crowed Joe in triumph. "Actually it was like taking candy from a baby," said Shaun. "They never had a chance." "True. But then, that trick will never work again." "No, but with our hook in their comp, I'm sure that Jodane can come up with other schemes that will." They navigated the small ship up and out of the plane of the ecliptic and applied power, accelerating the ship along it's economy curve, saving as much water as possible, knowing that every drop would be needed by Alpha. The days passed quickly once the ship was on autopilot. Then, one evening Shaun entered the galley, carrying the small package that had been given them before departure. "Shall we see what they sent us?," he asked. "Sure," agreed Joe. Inside was a small bottle of Cognac, real cognac from Earth. "Damn," said Joe. "I wonder where the hell they found that!" "I don't know," said Shaun. But shall we try it out? Toast a successful mission? It's been quite a while since I tasted Earth liquor." Shaun carefully opened it and, after a short but interesting time, managed to get the contents into two plastic bulbs. Bottles were never invented for use in zero-gee. "Not bad," said Joe finally. "I agree. But perhaps I will stick with the booze the belt produces. Much cheaper and this is not that much better. But it is good to taste a bit of our heritage now and then. To remind us of what we are fighting for." Joe said nothing but raised his own bulb in a silent toast to memories past. Before long, The rocky area surrounding Alpha came into view on the radar. "One last task," said Shaun. Are you ready?" "Always," answered Joe. Shaun piloted the ship carefully through the rock field and matched orbits with the large asteroid hiding Alpha. Together the two of them got into pressure suits and then jetted down to the surface, spotting a large open flat spot to land on. The spinning of the asteroid threw Joe off for just a moment but he had no trouble landing. Joe pointed out footprints in the dust and they followed them for a short distance, stopping in front of a medium sized rock. Shaun leaned over and pressed his helmet against Joe's "I thought all loose rocks had been removed long ago," he said, puzzled." Joe leaned over and lifted the rock, and discovered it was much heavier than he had thought. Suddenly it came loose, revealing magnets set in the bottom and a hollowed out chamber. "Here's the drop," said Joe to a surprised Shaun. "Have we got anything to leave?" Shaun removed a sealed pouch from an outside cargo pocket and handed it to Joe, who slipped it into the opening and replaced the rock. He was distracted by Shaun, pointing out a large ship maneuvering in toward them. "Security," he said simply, Joe nodding in agreement. Let's take a hint and head back to the ship," said Joe as his comm chimed for attention. "Time to come back aboard gentlemen," called the engineer when Joe had acnowledged the call. Joe nodded briefly to Shaun and together they jetted back to the ship, confident that the bait had been properly placed. Finally, all their tasks done, they flew the ship away, out of radar range and then returned, rearming the transponder so that Alpha would recognize them. They all were relieved to see the big door swing open, allowing them access to the interior of the big asteroid and home. They docked the ship and then turned her over to the maintenance crew to repair the damage they had done earlier and the emergency repairs done by Ceres. Once off of the ship they headed directly to Salvatoro's office close to the Security monitoring station. They were ushered directly into the room by a silent Salvatoro, who had set as many cameras in the area of the north pole to watch. They had been there about thirty minutes when the door opened and Charlie entered, selecting a seat and joining the watchers. "You realize that whoever he is, he may not show for a while yet," said Salvatoro quietly. "Yes," said Shaun. "We will probably have to set up a rotation if he doesn't show soon." Two hours passed slowly with no sign that their bait was going to be taken. "Okay, that's enough," Salvatoro announced. "I will finish off this four hour period. Charlie, you are pretty well rested. How about you taking the next four hours? Then either Joe or Shaun, it's up to them. Then, we start all over again. Okay?" "Sounds good to me," agreed Joe as Shaun and Charlie nodded. "I'm going to get some sleep. Give me a call in four hours so I can grab a bite before I am due here, will you?," he asked Charlie. "No problem Joe," Charlie agreed. "And then I'll see you in nine hours Joe," said Shaun. "Assuming it lasts that long." Last that long it did. They had been watching for nearly four days and still nothing had happened. Charlie had just arrived to relieve Salvatoro, preparing to watch for the next four hours. "There has got to be someone aboard," said Charlie. "They found the rock. And judging by the description, there is no way that could be natural. And I don't believe it was left there by the crew that disguised Alpha." "I agree with you but what are we supposed to do?" Charlie said nothing, his eyes drawn to the video screens. "Salvatoro, look," he said. "At last!," exclaimed Salvatoro. He called Shaun and Joe and telling them to meet outside Charlie's labs. Salvatoro then entered a security code and sealed all of the outside airlocks. "That should hold him," he said. "The outer door will open, allowing him access, but the inner door will not. And once he closes the outer door, it will not reopen until I release it." When they arrived they met Shaun and had a brief wait before Joe arrived, having been asleep when the call came in. Joe arrived to see Salvatoro seated at Charlie's comp with the other two men standing behind him. "There!," said Salvatoro. "We have him! Lock nineteen, North pole longitudinal ninety. Ready gentlemen?" "You bet," said Joe excitedly. "Damn right," growled Shaun. Lets finish this damned thing off." "Security team, report to airlock nineteen. Do nothing till I arrive," Salvatoro said into the comp terminal. Airlock nineteen was not far from Charlie's lab and they arrived before the security team, waiting until they arrived to release the man. Finally four men, three armed with light laser pistols while the fourth, dressed in body armor was carrying a single heavy projectile weapon Joe recognized as a shotgun of an early Vintage. The four men took up positions around the airlock door and Salvatoro released the controls, allowing the man to step out of the airlock. Salvatoro signaled the man to take off his helmet. "Gorge!" Joe said, surprised. "You know this man?," asked Salvatoro. "A little," admitted Joe. "So does Charlie. We rode out on the Runner together." "I remember him too," admitted Shaun. "Take him away," Salvatoro ordered the security team. "Lock him in one of the holding cells. Strip him and put him in a light coverall and watch him constantly. We will be along shortly." Gorge Scapata spat once on the floor in front of Salvatoro before being pushed off down the corridor toward the holding cells. "Dammit, I want a hook!," shouted Salvatoro. "Anything!" His two assistants stood in front of Salvatoro's desk and said nothing. "You two have had him for a week now. Surely you know something about him." "Nothing sir. You said no chemicals. He won't talk. Not even to give his name, and we already know that." "Damn. He is giving us no choice," said Salvatoro. "Well, keep trying. And find me that hook!" Salvatoro stalked out of his office and headed toward Dr Quade's lab complex. He found that whenever he had a truly complicated problem, Charlie usually could help him out. He found Charlie in the lab, working with one of his lab aides over an experiment Salvatoro couldn't make anything of. "Morning, Salvatoro," said Charlie. "Can I talk to you?," he asked. "Sure. Come on into my office." Charlie led the way, stopping briefly to pick up two cups of coffee, handing one to Salvatoro. "Sit. What's on your mind?" "Gorge." Salvatoro said. "I have nothing on him and can't seem to get anything." "What do you want?" "Something I can use. Anything. He is obviously an intelligent man, and I would hate to waste him." "Do you have anything?" "No. There doesn't seem to be any information anywhere on him. We suspect Gorge Scapata is an alias but we cannot even prove that." "Hm," thought Charlie out loud. "Then I guess we have no choice, do we." Later that afternoon, Salvatoro and the security squad took Gorge out of his cell and marched him off down the equator. Gorge said nothing until they stopped in front of airlock number one. "Inside," said Salvatoro. "Now wait a minute," said Gorge, speaking nearly perfect english to the surprised group. "Toss him in," ordered Salvatoro. Two of the men pushed Gorge into the lock and swung the door shut behind him, and sealed him in. Salvatoro stepped over to the controls, watching Gorge through the window who was watching back. He thumbed the intercom. "Last chance," he said. "Live or die." Gorge said nothing for a minute. "You're bluffing." "No. I can't afford to have you free. I need you but only if I have a hook. Give me a hook and you are free. Otherwise you are out." Salvatoro started to spin the hand-wheel, bleeding the air out of the chamber. "Wait, stop!," shouted Gorge. "What do you want to know?" Salvatoro could see the sweat beading up on his brow. "Why did you agree to spy?" "Why not? I was unemployed on Earth. They promised to take care of my family if I agreed. Look," he pleaded. "You don't know how it is on relief. No job. No chance of a job. A wife, two kids, her mother, my folks, all crowded into a three room apartment. What the hell do you think I should do?" Salvatoro stepped back from the controls. "Is there another agent here?" "There was. I was supposed to meet him when I arrived but he never made contact. I finally tracked him down yesterday. He was killed last year in a handling accident. So as far as I know I'm on my own." "Let him out," ordered Salvatoro, relieved that he had not been forced to space the man. He really wasn't sure if he had been bluffing or if he really would have spaced the man. And he was greatly relieved that he didn't have to find out. He stepped up to Gorge once he had been pulled out of the lock. "You work for me now!," he said. "Remember that. And think of what will happen to your family if you blow it. Or what I will do to you." Salvatoro found it easier to play the tough man now that he was face to face and not threatening to space him. "Why do you want me?" "Simple. If I have you killed or keep you out of circulation, they will try to send in another agent. Controlled, I can feed them whatever I need to. And if they do try to send in more men, you are the logical choice to send them to. You are far more valuable to me alive and working as a double agent than you are dead. Remember that though. As soon as you become a liability, you are gone. Do you understand?" "Yes sir," said Gorge shakily. "Would you really have spaced me?" "Damn right," he said, trying to maintain the tough guy role. "And I still might. But that's the main reason I did not allow my men to drug you. I wanted your mind clear. A man will do strange things when he has been drugged that he would never dream of doing normally. I wanted you sane. Or at least, as sane as you can be." Jodane stuck out a hand. "Welcome aboard, Gorge." Gorge took it cautiously and shook it, his grip weak and shaky. "My family," he said "As safe as I can make them. As long as you perform as directed, there is no reason for Earth or Internal Security for that matter to know of our little arrangement. Or is there?" "No sir, not at all," Gorge said quickly. "Good. Go back to work. Your absence has been explained as illness. Your supervisor knows nothing of what just happened. In fact no one outside of about a dozen people on board know of your involvement. When I need you I will contact you. He turned to his men. "Give him his clothes and let him go." Sal walked quickly away from the small group, trusting his men to finish the task properly. Later that evening, seated in his room with a half-full bottle of bourbon in front of him, his door announcer chimed and then opened, admitting Joe. "Thought you could use a little company." he said, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a drink. "I nearly killed a man today," said Sal. "I have never done that before." "And you still haven't." "Yet. But what about next time?" "We are at war. People die in a war. Usually the man doing the killing doesn't see the face or the eyes of the man getting killed. Just the results of the battle. And you never really know if you killed this one or someone else. That is how most soldiers stay sane. The day you can look at a man and say 'I killed him' and not feel bad is the day you are in trouble." Joe took a pull from his glass. "You are a normal, sane human being who is horrified about taking a life. I am glad to see that. Let's finish the bottle and talk about it, okay?" Sal smiled and poured another drink. "Thanks," he said at last. "I guess I needed a friend now after all." "No, we always need friends. And drinking alone can kill you." They all spent the next two weeks preparing for acceleration. All ships attached to the mooring piers had to be removed, the only ones allowed to stay inside were the ones firmly attached behind pressure bubbles. Everything had to be tied down or put into something that was. The designers had thought of just about everything though. Most of the larger items had attachments for large powerful magnets to keep them in place while in free-fall. At last the day came when the base was ready and the command was given to remove spin. Director Yoon was in central control overseeing the whole operation when Jodane entered, looking for him. "Director," he said, catching the man's attention. "We are ready with the big laser whenever you say go, sir," he reported. "Good," Yoon said. "Then you may fire when ready." Jodane entered a code into control's comp and transmitted the order to the laser crew. "As the rotation brings us into the proper position, we will fire. The trace should be terminated in about one minute or so." They waited in silence. Suddenly, briefly the lights dimmed, then flaring back to their normal brightness. "That should do it sir," he said. "If you will excuse me, I'll get back to my station to see how we did." "Keep me informed," said Yoon, directing his attention back to the main operation. Ten million miles away, the surface of the Rock was hit by an intensely powerful laser. "What the hell was that?," shouted the base commander to the control room. "Checking sir. Laser," came the quick reply. "About a hundred megawatts or so. High frequency pulses. The whole beam lasted about two seconds." "I am on my way up there, Lieutenant. Where did it come from?" "Alpha, sir. They must have found our laser lock." "Have the sciences director report to me at once in control" he ordered. The base commander arrived to find the Lieutenant and the Sciences Director waiting for him in control. "I thought you told me that they would not be able to detect the trace, Captain?, can you explain this?" "No sir," he said nervously, sweat beading up across his forehead. "They are obviously better equipped than we thought they were." "You THOUGHT Captain? Not only did they find the lock, they also happened to have a laser capable of producing over one hundred megawatts of power, sustained for over two seconds. This does not sound like second rate technology to me!" "The laser is nothing new sir," reported the Captain. We have one at least as powerful here. And I can have it operational in ten minutes." The commander looked at him in amazement. "No!," he said simply. "What would you be shooting at? Have you seen pictures of Alpha? Everything is inside that rock! And since a laser is a surface effect device, how much damage do you think one would do to Alpha?" "Then you do not want me to reestablish the lock?" "HELL No!," shouted the director. "Do you want them to do it again? I don't. We are here to get the Rock back to Earth orbit and we leave in two days. I do not want any delays to occur. And someone out there with a megalaser could do just that." He turned away and addressed one of the operators in control. "Do we have a damage report yet?" "Yes sir," the technician reported. "It is coming in now." He turned to read off of the screen in front of him. "Most large surface structures relatively undamaged. Some surface effect but nothing of consequence. The maintenance shed's windows were blown out and lost complete pressure. However the emergency doors sealed and contained the breach there. No word on how many people were in there yet though. Twenty-seven bodies have been found so far, caught out on the surface when the beam hit. "An unknown number of vehicles have been disabled but most persons inside have reported in. The rule requiring suits when operating outside vehicles seems to have saved a lot of lives. Also, most of the remote work site domes have not reported in yet and are assumed lost." "Would you care to step out onto the surface and personally direct the firing of our own laser, Captain?," offered the director. "No sir," stuttered the Captain. "I thought not. Besides, we are not worried about losing contact with Alpha. We know exactly where they are, or have you forgotten that?" "No sir, but what if this attack was to destroy our lock prior to moving?" "What if it is Captain? We have other ways of keeping track of Alpha. The laser in fact was set up as a decoy, so that they could find it and believe that was the only way we could keep track of them. No, Captain. Let them move. We will find them wherever they go," he said tersely, terminating the conversation. He turned back to the seated technician. "I will be in my office. Have a complete damage report sent there as soon as possible with a list of names of those who were lost." "Yes sir, right away," said the tech to the departing Director. Slowly, Alpha reduced her spin until the rock was unmoving in space. Then, four huge nacelles, spaced equally around the equator rose from the surface revealing banks of engines. As one they all flared into life and slowly the big rock began to move away from her position in orbit, flying back, against the normal flow and away from the Rock. Joe, seated in Security Monitoring, silently watched the spectacle. "I'm glad I don't have to fly this thing," he said to Sal. "It does seem a little complex at first. But you must remember that we are going very slowly and it is all controlled by computers." "Where are we going?" "I don't know" explained Sal. "First we will lift ourselves up out of the plane to get away from the majority of the asteroids and then we will go looking for a good place to hide. What we will be looking for is a large cluster of rocks we can slip into and not be noticed. Our advanced scouts are ahead of us now, searching for just that spot. Then, lastly, we will be bringing some of the smaller rocks with us. A few of them have armed outposts in them. One of the defensive systems we have." "What is their purpose?," asked Joe. This being the first time he had heard of other manned asteroids near Alpha. "Two dozen of the smaller rocks have manned posts in them. They are there to protect Alpha in case of an attack. The idea being that any attacker will concentrate on Alpha and ignore the smaller rocks, giving them a clear field of fire." "Not bad," said Joe, admiringly. Suddenly, Joe felt a jolt, as if something had struck Alpha. "Asteroid strike," explained Sal. We fly with the north pole forward. The skin there is the thickest and can sustain more damage that any other part of the base. Also, all of the safety doors are closed. If it did manage to hole us, there is still nothing to worry about. "Unless there were people there," said Joe. "No. No one is allowed to be there during flight. Everyone who does not have a flight station is restricted to their quarters and we do not go until everyone is accounted for." "Seems like you know what you are doing," said Joe. "It's from lessons learned the hard way," admitted Sal. "In the early days we lost a number of people because of stupidity and shortsightedness. We are always trying to correct our procedures. The loss of even one life is too much." Joe turned his attention back to the main viewing screen. "Not much to see, is there." "No, not really. And once we are above the plane, there will be even less. And once we are there, limited access will be allowed, once we are well-clear of the main body of rocks. A few hours at most." Slowly, over the next two days everything returned to a semblance of normality. Travel restrictions were eased, although no one was yet allowed access to the north pole area. Joe, Shaun and Michaela spent the bulk of their time in the simulators honing their ship-handling talents. By moving the base, the timetable had to be changed and their departure date was now much closer. At last the word was passed that Alpha was approaching her new resting place and all personnel were again restricted to quarters. Slipping the big base into her new nest amidst the many smaller rocks took much less time than removing her from the last spot. But given a few months, the rocks would be spread out, making the approaches much harder. And compounding the problem would be the two-dozen outpost rocks following behind them. Finally the Giant-killer was removed from her bubble and Joe, Shaun and Michaela were again given control of her. Daily they took her out, away from the base and ran her through every maneuver they could think of. But the one thing that they could not test here was the SC drive. They would have to wait until entering a magnetic field for that." Director Yoon faced the four people. "You all know what is riding on this mission," he said simply. "All of us here on Alpha wish you a safe journey and a successful completion." He briefly shook hands with Joe, Charley and Shaun before giving Michaela a last good-bye hug. He walked silently to the docks with them, standing quietly with a tear in his eye as he watched them climb aboard and seal the lock for the last time. He remained there, long after they had received departure clearance and the ship disappeared out of the main access door. 12 Nearly all of Alpha tuned in to watch the departure. A pair of small ships, attached to the sides of the Giant killer, slowly applied thrust, backing the ship out of her slip. They then expertly brought her to a stop in the center of the big ship bay and spun her on her axis, aligning her nose with the exit port. Thrust was then reapplied and she slid gracefully out into deep space. Behind them, the big door swung silently closed behind them. The two ships remained attached to the bigger ship and continued to guide it outward toward it's rendezvous with another ship waiting nearby. The giant killer was brought to a near stop and slowly mated to the nose of the waiting ship. She would give the initial boost to the giant killer, allowing maximum speed without using any of her onboard fuel. Once the mating had been completed a faint blue laser line flickered between the Giant Killer and Alpha Base. Since all open radio communication was now forbidden in the vicinity of Alpha Base due to increased security requirements, all communication traffic was handled by undetectable lasers. "Alpha Base here, Giant Killer. Go ahead." "We are mated up and ready for the initial boost." "Go for it, Shaun," sent Director Yoon. "Good luck from all of us here. We have already begun planning the return party." "Sounds like fun, Yoon," said Captain O'Cassidy. "I hope we don't miss it. Just wait till we get back though before you start." "Sure thing Shaun, we'll be waiting. Alpha Base out." The laser winked out and the big ship's engines flared into life, slowly pushing the two ships farther and farther away from Alpha Base. The orbital path took them up and out of the plane where they could begin piling on the real gee's. Aboard the Giant Killer the four crew members were busy as they checking and double checking everything. Joe and Dr. Quade carefully checked the special programming while Shaun and Michaela occupied themselves with the engineering systems. Finally Dr Quade declared that he was satisfied with the operational software and together they went off in search of Shaun and Michaela. They found them elbow deep in the main cooling system of the superconductor drive. "Something wrong Captain?" Asked Charlie. "No, not really. We are tracing the coolant lines in an attempt to teach Michaela here how the system was put together. But to be perfectly honest, I know less than I thought I did. Everything was put together so fast that I don't know what half of the piping does." "And I know next to nothing," chimed in Michaela. "Oh, we all know how the system works, or is supposed to work anyway. But how do all of the interrelated systems tie together? And where did they put all of the different components?" "Maybe we can be of assistance," offered Charlie. "Although I helped design the system, I don't know how it was put in either. Soon, all four of them were crawling around, peering under deck plates and generally making a shambles of a once-immaculate auxiliary machinery space. "Well, that's the last pipe then," said Joe at last. "I hope whoever installed this system didn't also install the plumbing," said Michaela. "If so, we are all in trouble." "Yes," said Shaun with a laugh. "But at least we now know both how it works and how to fix it if it breaks down." They all got busy replacing all of the access covers and loose deck plates. "What say we all get cleaned up and meet in the galley for coffee?" Suggested Charlie. Muttering and nodding in agreement, the four split up and made their way back to their quarters. Although the ship was small, it was large enough to contain four small cabins and two zero-gee fresher booths. It also boasted a small but serviceable galley where the four could meet for meals and planning sessions. "Okay," said Shaun. "Here's the schedule," once everyone had arrived and settled down. "We stay on this trajectory until we are above the plane of the ecliptic and into the region we refer to as 'ninety percent city.' This is the area where ninety percent of all material in the belt is below us and safely out of our way. We will still have to watch for the last ten percent but this band is much safer to travel in at high speed. "If we moved far enough away to reduce it to one percent, we would have to travel millions more kilometers, at a much greater fuel expenditure. Besides, the rocks are spread out in this band and we run a very low probability of hitting one." "I can accept that," said Joe. "How long before we get there?" "Not long," answered Shaun. "About ninety six hours from launch time, which was approximately twelve hours ago. Once there the mother ship will give us an initial velocity of fifty thousand kph and we will then detach and take her up from there with our own engines. "We will cross Earth orbit in about ninety two days. We will then expend additional reaction mass to slow down and make the grab, leaving right after that. Hopefully successfully. Any questions?" "Sure," said Joe with a grin. "But none that you can answer here. So let's take our best shot and see what happens?" "It seems to me," said Michaela, "that we are betting an awful lot on the fact that it will be in orbit waiting for us. How can you be sure?" "Complex programs," explained Charlie, were written to control the mass accelerators. Buried in the programming are instructions to launch that particular package at a certain time. The computers will not let it go before that. This whole procedure is extremely complex but, if all goes well, it will be waiting for us when we arrive. But we must be there exactly on schedule." "Well," said Shaun. "We have a long trip in front of us and I plan on having everything on board checked out completely until every one of us knows each and every system backwards and forwards, understood?" They all nodded in agreement. "But," continued Shaun. "At the present time, I am exhausted and I will see all of you in about ten hours. After fixing himself a quick snack, Joe left the galley and also turned in. He saw no lights on in Charlie's cubicle and assumed he too had gone to bed. "Here it is," announced Joe, studying a pc module through a high power microscope. "A stress crack, just as I suspected." "Good," said Charlie. "May I see it?" "Sure. Take a peek." They were alone in the workshop, the stripped chassis of the high-resolution scanning camera was strapped to a test bench while all of it's associated parts lay in closed, transparent bins. Magnets on the bottom of the bins held them in place on the bench near the camera. "It doesn't look too bad," said Charlie finally. "None of the gold filaments are damaged. If we bridge the circuitry and re-laminate, I think this module will be fine." "Good," said Joe. "Shaun will be pleased. Once reassembled and installed, they ran the system through a series of tests and finally declared the camera fully operational and turned it back over to the comp. They found Shaun in the galley and helped themselves to a coffee bulb before reporting. "Good," said Shaun. I am glad it is on-line again." "Aren't we all?" Agreed Charlie. "The whole mission may ride on the operation of that camera. I still cannot believe that we do not have any spare parts for it somewhere." "Oh, yes," said Shaun. "I forgot to tell you. Michaela found the spare parts. They were with the fusion drive spare parts in a box marked 'indicator lights'" "Shit," said Joe. "How much more of this do we have to go through?" "It's not that bad," Said Shaun. "Now that the camera is repaired all critical equipment is back on-line." It had all started when they had gotten out of the main body of the asteroid belt and the pusher ship had applied thrust. Smoothly at first but, during the burn sequence, one of the computers had received an error code and attempted to shut down the engines. The remaining two had rechecked the data, found the error incorrect and restarted the engines at full thrust. The resulting three-gee bump shook both ships to the core, causing more malfunctions than could be quickly handled. The Major systems, power, lighting, engineering and life-support had enough redundancy built in that they were not badly affected but the less vital secondary systems had suffered aboard both ships. The break-free point had passed ten days ago and the pusher ship was now limping back to Alpha while the Giant Killer, her own engine sequence completed, streaked towards Earth rendezvous. One by one the damaged systems were stripped, diagnosed and repaired before the crew moved on to the next piece of faulty equipment. Shaun and Michaela were assigned mostly to support roles because they simply did not have the expertise that Charlie or Joe did. Michaela, for the last forty-eight hours had been opening and re-inventorying all of the cases of spare parts stowed aboard the ship. She had found that almost nothing had been put in their proper cases. Most notably, she had found twelve dozen coffee bulbs stowed in the case marked 'camera spares.' The hatch to the galley swung open an she entered, carrying a bowl of oranges. "Well, well," said Shaun, pleased. "Where did those turn up?" "In the last place you would expect to find them, considering our present problems. In the case marked 'entertainment tapes'." This brought a few chuckles and Joe asked. What made you look in there?" "I found the tapes in the box marked 'Feminine Hygiene' and decided to look in the tapes case to see what was in there!" "Oh," said Joe, blushing. "Has everything been found then?" "No!" Said Michaela, in frustration and anger, her face turning nearly as red as her long hair. "My hygiene case is still missing. And I NEED that case! Now!" "Okay," said Shaun with a grin. "I get the picture. Everyone, lets get going again. It seems that whoever scrambled everything did a much better job than we thought." He turned to Michaela. "Have you remarked everything you have looked in?" "Yes," she said. "A new number has been inked on them in red and a new master list has been made. All you have to do is check the cases without the red numbers and reassign a new one. Then enter it into the computer along with it's location, understand?" "There can't be more than a couple of hundred cases left then," said Shaun. Split up then and everyone take a different storeroom. Hopefully we can avert the present catastrophe before dinner." It had taken far less time than that to find the errant case. Michaela had done a superb job and there were far less than one hundred cases left to go through. And, surprisingly, a large number of them were actually filled by what they were supposed to have. And Michaela's missing case was found in the Galley storeroom in a case marked 'paper products: napkins'. All but Michaela found humor in the classification. "I'm glad that that's over," said Charlie. "Now maybe we can get back to the business of repairing this broken-down workhorse. She still has one hell of a job to do." Weeks later, her long range radar, one of the most sensitive ever placed in a ship her size produced the first clear pictures of the Earth-lunar system. The big permanent structures she had no problem identifying but the smaller objects took a while longer. The comp however quickly filled in the missing data as the different ships communicated with each other and the Giant Killer tapped their messages. One of the first things they noticed once the chart was finished was that the Hermes was missing! She was, at present Earth's fastest ship and she should have been safely in orbit around Earth. Another thing they saw was the presence of the Rock. She had arrived approximately thirty days ago and a lot of work had progressed on her. They could pick out a lot of the smaller structures with the scanning camera, even this far out. All four of the crew were in the command module and securely strapped in. "Okay, boys and girls, this is it! Turnover time." the large ship turned end for end gracefully and her big engines flared into life and then building up to full power. The resultant six gees, although very uncomfortable, was endurable. The Giant Killer quickly shed velocity, her strong hull specifically designed for smooth hi-gee maneuvers. And so it went, She burned for ten minutes and then rested for ten, then re-burned. Finally it was over. They had lost enough velocity so that, as fast as she was. She was slow enough to perform the operation at hand and Shaun flipped the ship to it's operational position. "No radar lock yet," reported Michaela. "Good," said Charlie. "The computers were programmed to shut down the long-range radar two hours before package launch. It looks like the embedded programming has done it's job. They won't know we are here until we get within range of their short ranges." They were now entering the Earth-lunar system proper. The radar, coupled to the scanning camera and a holo tank enhanced by the computer system clearly showed all of the objects in Earth-lunar orbit. They could see all four stations slowly rotating, they saw a surface shuttle on close approach to Leo base the Rock, and the dozens of sleds operating around the stations and the Rock. "Here she comes," said Joe, pointing to a small object rising from the lunar surface. "Right on schedule," chuckled Shaun. It had cleared the surface and was well on it's way to rendezvous with a waiting sled far out in space and near the Rock. "Spin?" Asked Shaun. "Twelve RPM," came the quick reply from Michaela. "Tumble?" "None" A Chuckle brought three pairs of eyes to Charlie. "No one ever asked me why a device that was to be mounted in a permanent structure needed a gyro stabilizer. They all assumed I knew what I was doing!" Joe quickly got busy with the attitude controls. He assumed control of the package and quickly stopped all of it's rotation and aligned the track of the Giant Killer to exactly match that of the package. She moved in quickly from behind the moon, passing within a kilometer of the surface, following unerringly it's fleeting quarry. "Lunar Control, this is the Radar watch officer. I have an unidentified ship on scan. She just popped up over the lunar horizon." The junior Lieutenant sat glued to his repeater with a commlink in his hand. "Roger watch. We have him. Be advised that we are taking control." "Watch Officer out, Control." The Lieutenant watched his console as the big comp from Lunar Control took over, cutting him out as an operator but it at least allowed him to watch. The duty crew, now rendered useless left their own consoles and crowded around the Lieutenant to watch. A few flicks of his controls threw the whole spectacle onto one of the big screens in the room. "What is it?" Asked one of the technicians. "I don't know," answered the Lieutenant. "The comp reported a completely unknown design and no recognizable markings." "Shit, she's fast," another of the technicians commented. "Where is she headed? The Rock?" "Sure looks like it," the Lieutenant answered. "It's hard to tell without comp control But she's doing over sixty-thousand KPH though." Aboard ship they were preparing for target acquisition. A strong cushioning and antishock system had been built into the central chamber, awaiting it's precious cargo. "Here we go," said Shaun. "It's gonna get real fast here. Are all systems operating?" "Yes," reported Joe. "Percentage of differential?" Asked Shaun. "Fifty-three," replied Charlie quickly. "Engage computer control now," ordered Shaun. Everyone aboard knew that they needed at least a ninety percent course match at this speed to insure a safe trap. Joe acted quickly, engaging the computer which immediately took command of the engines and thrusters and they all felt the jolts as the computer tried to match the course of the Giant-killer to that of the speeding target. "Sixty-one percent," announced Charlie. No one else in the cabin spoke, all eyes were riveted forward, seeking the cylinder that they were relentlessly pursuing. "Sixty-eight," continued Charlie as the figures came in. The entire ship now shook with the minute shocks as the computer continued to pulse the engines and thrusters, bringing the two ships closer and closer into alignment. "Forty-five seconds to acquisition," Announced Joe. "Seventy-three percent," said Charlie. Now, ahead they could see the cylinder that they had chased across countless millions of kilometers to find. "Eighty two percent." Around them, the ship fell suddenly quiet as the thrusters ceased firing. No word was said among the four as they sped onward, toward their rendezvous with their fate. "Fifteen, Fourteen, Thirteen," counted Joe as the cylinder approached nearer and nearer. Suddenly, catching the four off guard momentarily, a single side thruster fired briefly. "Ninety four percent," announced Charlie, satisfaction coloring his words. "Impact," said Joe quietly. Ahead, the Cylinder sped toward them, passing below their field of view, as if they had flown over it. "Bingo!" Crowed Joe. "We have it!" All aboard could feel the jar as their precious cargo came to rest, safely wrapped in its cocoon of webbing inside the central hold of the small ship. "Let's get the hell out of here," said Shaun. "I want engine control now. Disengage computer and brace for full engine sequence." Joe applied full thrust to the engines and angling the ship away from her track toward the sled far ahead of them, lying in earth orbit and awaiting the arrival of the cylinder. Shaun quickly added delta vee in an attempt to get as far away as possible before pursuit started. "She's turning," said one of the watching technicians. "Inward toward the Sun. What did she want?" "The cargo pod," blurted the Lieutenant, suddenly realizing what was missing on his scan. "They stole the pod!" He could see some of the ships on his scan begin their own main engine sequence, taking up the chase. "The Eccet its moving," said one of the technicians, indicating the French ship. "And there goes the Prinz Franz and the Peking Star," he continued. "They will catch her," he said confidently." "I don't think so," said the Lieutenant. "The intruder has a huge lead on them. And at the speed she is going the only ship that has any chance at all to catch her is the Hermes. "Maybe so," said the technician dubiously. "But where is she?" "Mercury," came the quick answer from the Lieutenant. She'll be waiting there for them. Boy, that's one fight I'd love to watch." "Ladies and Gentlemen of the World Senate. May I have your attention please?" Asked Mahjid Bey. One of the wonders of modern communication was the Holonet. Here he was, sitting in an empty room in blue pajamas and at the same time he was presiding over the world Senate in an immaculate pinstripe suit, added automatically to his signal by his comp. In front of him sat the images of the collected Senators via the net. Finally the noise leveled off to a point where Mahjid Bey could begin. "I apologize for this impromptu meeting but circumstances demanded it. Approximately three hours ago an unidentified ship entered Earth space and forcefully stole the main synthesis chamber for the Beanstalk!" The noise level again increased to the point where no one individual voice could be understood over the others. Mahjid Bey increased the strength of his own signal and cut the others down before continuing, effectively drowning out all of the other Senators with sheer amplified power. "Please," he shouted. "Order, order!" Even with the additional amplification he couldn't get their attention. Regretfully he cut in the privacy circuit and all of the other voices dropped to silence even though he could see them all trying to talk. The holonet was not allowing any of the voices of the assembled Senators, with the exception of the Chairman's to be transmitted. One by one, they all ceased talking when they realized the futility of it all. They were effectively locked out until Mahjid Bey released the circuit. "Again I apologize, but I must have order. As I said earlier, the synthesis chamber is gone. We have three ships in pursuit at this time but they have virtually no chance of catching the intruder. However the Hermes is in Mercury orbit and will be waiting there for the intruder. She will then attempt a rendezvous and a recovery of the chamber." Mahjid Bey removed the privacy lock from his comp, allowing the Senators to once again speak. "Who are they?," asked one of the closer Senators. "We are not sure yet," admitted Mahjid Bey. The ship design is unfamiliar and looks like it was specially constructed for just this one operation. But we suspect the Asteroid colonies to be behind it." If the Hermes doesn't catch her, she has been directed to follow as best as she can and find her base of operation. As you know, the Hermes is the fastest ship we have at present and it is doubtful that if the intruder IS from the asteroids, she will get away from the Hermes. "And if it isn't from the Asteroids?," asked another. "Who else could have sent it?" "That is one of the question we are not even speculating on. We have too tight a control on Mars for it to have originated there. The best guess at this moment is the rebel Alpha Base out in the belt." "Why would they want it?," came another voice from the crowd. "And how did they know which shipment was the synthesis chamber?," asked another. "That is another thing we cannot figure out," admitted Chairman Bey reluctantly. "We do not know how they launched the chamber. I have been extensively briefed by our computer people and they assure me that the launch sequences are completely automatic and run by the big lunar comp. Somehow, someone inserted a command that caused the comp to encapsulate the chamber and launch it twenty months earlier than originally scheduled. That cargo pod was supposed to carry a shipment of drugs from one of the lunar medical labs, destined for a research lab in central Europe. It took us nearly two hours to finally discover what had actually been taken. "And as to why, our experts feel that it is probably going to be used as a bargaining chip when the mines of Mercury are in full production. They know we need it and lack the resources to build another quickly. And this may put the beanstalk timetable back as much as ten years." "Ten Years?," Shouted Senator Polkova. She had inherited the seat recently and was rapidly regaining the respect that her late husband had held. "We cannot afford the damn thing now! How in hell can you believe we will be able to afford it then? And what is to be done against the rebel base? Alpha I believe you called it?" "Nothing," said Mahjid Bey. "Nothing is not enough!," Sneered Amiru Polkova. They need to be destroyed. As long as they are there, they serve as a rallying point for all of the hotheads in the belt. Gone and they will all be easier to control!" "Yes!," Shouted another Senator. "We must regain control of the belt." "We haven't lost control," said Mahjid Bey. "If we try to destroy Alpha then there is no telling what they will try next. Let them have the illusion of some control over their lives." "You now sound like a rebel yourself," shouted Senator Polkova. "I move that we declare open war on Alpha base. Wipe out that subversive nest now while we can." She stood silently, waiting to hear what kind of support she had. "She's right, came an unidentifiable voice in the back. "I second!" "Wait," pleaded Mahjid Bey. "Let's think this over before we do anything rash." "Us?," sneered Senator Polkova You forget, Mr president, that they are all criminals out there. They have no rights! They are the ones doing rash things, not us. "I call a vote. Show who you support. Earth or the rebels in the belt." Mahjid Bey refrained from the vote but turned to watch the tote-board mounted over his head. He was dismayed to see that, with the exception of one vote, his own, the entire Senate had voted for war! He shook his head sadly and turned to face the assembly. "I hope you all know what you are doing," he said. "You aren't going to do something stupid like veto it, are you?," asked Senator Polkova. "No, I am not. However I am going to sit on it for forty-eight hours and let you all think about it. If enough of you come to your senses and contact me about changing your vote, I will then decide whether to veto or not. But I will not go against the wishes of the majority." "This seems to have killed your precious Beanstalk," sneered a Senator, one of Mahjid Bey's main opponents. "Maybe," agreed Mahjid Bey. But then, maybe not. We must do nothing yet but wait and see! You all will be informed of new details as they come in. Your offices have been given all current data and you may use it as you wish." Mahjid Bey cut the transmission, removing himself from the circuit. It would be morning in about six hours and Allah knew he needed the sleep. "Scan shows three ships pursuing," reported Joe. "Do you have acceleration and speed curves yet?" "Yes," answered Michaela. "Nothing unexpected. Engine flare shows they are underpowered as compared to the Hermes and ourselves. They won't catch us." "Damn," said Shaun. "Where the hell is the Hermes?," he sat still for a moment, deep in thought. "Where could they have sent her?" "Mars maybe?," asked Michaela. "Is it possible they sent her there chasing Dr Quade and she just hasn't returned yet?" "Doubtful," said Charlie. "First it has been too long ago for that and I do know that the military likes to keep it's fastest ship in Earth orbit where they can keep an eye on her. No, she is somewhere else." "Well," said Shaun. "We do know where she is not. And that's where she should be. Earth." "Exactly," said Joe. "So there is nothing to do but play the cards dealt. Besides if we reach the sun first, it won't matter. With the SC drive, we can outrun everything!" "If it works, that is, Joe. If it works," said Charlie gravely. "We must remember that it is as yet an untested system. We all agreed at the start that we would engage it only if absolutely necessary. If it is not needed then it is not to be used." "Free-fall in thirty seconds," announced Shaun. "The ship is on course and ahead of the pack." "The pursuit ships are throttling back also," reported Michaela. They all knew what the ship's Captains were aware of. Exactly how much reaction mass they would need at the other end to remain inside their safety margins. "Freefall," said Shaun as the engines cut off. "Pursuit status when available please," he asked. Michaela said nothing, waiting for the comp to run it's program. "Okay," she finally reported. "They are also in free-fall. They won't catch us but we won't lose them either. They will be able to keep their scanners on us all the way to the sun!" "Shit," said Shaun. "They are faster than I thought they would be. When I saw that the Hermes was missing, I thought we might have a chance at a clean getaway." "But we expected the Hermes too follow us down," objected Charlie. We cannot hope to maintain complete anonymity very long and didn't really expect to anyway." "Okay," said Shaun. "Stand down from acceleration stations. I want one person on the scanners at all times. We must keep on top of all changes in pursuit status." The other three nodded in agreement. "I'll take the first watch," volunteered Joe. "Everyone might as well get as much rest as possible. It's a long fall down." The military contingent of Internal Security base, Lunar farside stood rigidly at attention as their commander, Major Efram Caine paced slowly down the ranks of men. He was followed by Lieutenant Hadley and Captain Rifman, the base commander. He turned to the Commander. "You may dismiss your men, Captain. They all look very good. You run a tight base here." "Thank you sir," Captain Rifman said in appreciation. He had gotten only one hour's notice that there would be a surprise inspection of his troops by Major Caine and he thought the men had done an admirable job in getting ready on such short notice. "You office," Major Caine said bruskly, allowing the tall man to lead them out of the open bay and into a narrow corridor. They soon reached the large office, and Captain Rifman opened the door and allowed the two men to enter before him, stopping briefly to close and seal the door, assuring complete privacy. "I understand that you keep a number of ships fueled and ready to go at all times, Captain. Is that true?" "Yes sir," Captain Rifman acnowledged. "I will be needing one. I need to go to the Rock and, possibly one or more of the geosynch's. I will of course need a pilot. He turned to wpeak to his aide. "Lieutenant, the authorizations." Lieutenant Hadley opened a hand grip that he was carrying and removed a thin sheaf of papers, and handed them to Captain Rifman. "This will give your pilot priority status in the Earth-lunar system allowing him to go wherever I need to go. How soon will you have the ship ready?" "That depends on which one you want," said Captain Rifman. I have two small ships fueled and ready to go. But they are of limited range. However I can have one of our long-range ships ready in about two hours." "I believe that will do just fine," said Major Caine smiling. "Have the Rock programmed in for the first destination. Until then Captain, Lieutenant Hadley and I will be in the officers mess." "Yes sir," said Captain Rifman. "I will see to it at once. And if you wish to meet the pilot first should I send him to the mess?" "That will not be necessary," Captain. "We will meet aboard ship in two hours." Major Caine allowed Lieutenant Hadley to unseal the door and lead the way out, closing the door behind them, leaving Captain Rifman alone in his office. After they were gone, Captain Rifman quickly ordered the ship to be fueled and prepared for space and then selected a pilot. He gave the choices a long thought before finally settling on one man. Something was going on and he wanted to know what. And the pilot, completely loyal to him, should be able to supply some of those answers. Two hours later, Both Major Caine and Lieutenant Hadley were seated in two of the bridge chairs flanking the pilot selected by Captain Rifman. "Any time you are ready," said Major Caine. "Fine sir. Lift-off in thirty seconds." The ship that they were seated in, although small, suited Major Caine perfectly. It was more than adequate to get him around in Earth-lunar space quite adequately and, it could even take him as far as the asteroid belt and back. Lift-off was a smooth, gentle push. None of the heavy gee's required to pull free of Earth's heavy gravity well. They were vectored on a minimum fuel transfer orbit to the geosynch position held by the rock. The priorities that Major Caine carried did wonders for clearing traffic ahead of them. At last they were on final approach to one of the long docking booms extending out from the Rock. Slowly the ship drifted inward until they made contact and a flexible tube was finally connected to their outer lock seal. The two officers then quickly left the ship and the pilot behind, disappearing into the office complex on the Rock. "Major Caine," said the Commanding Officer. "This is unexpected." "Surprise visit. Just came up to look around a little." "Just look around?," asked the Commander. A long trip just to sight-see." "To be perfectly honest, the Senate did ask me to eyeball the place and make my recommendations." "Recommendations? About what?" "Surely you realize that now that the synthesis chamber is gone, we are reassessing this whole project." "But we must build another one!," blurted the Commander. "Surely the Senate realizes the importance of this project. We have far too much invested to shut it down." "Not according to the Senate. The hardliners are demanding the project be shut down permanently. Too expensive, they say." "But, they can't do that, can they?" "Of course they can. They pay the bills, after all. Remember, only a fraction of the cost of the total beanstalk has been spent. We will be paying for this thing for years to come. Billions of credits are yet needed to finish the job." "So what are we going to do here?" "That's what I am here to find out. I will just nose around and get a feel for the place. I am sure that there is something we can use it for." The Commander wrung his hands in anguish. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Just stay out of my way," ordered Major Caine. "I will be staying for a while and I will need quarters for myself and my aide. We will be doing some traveling between the stations so I want the ship ready at all times. The pilot will need quarters also. Preferably near the ship. Understood?" "Completely, sir," came the quick answer. I can put you in the VIP quarters if you wish. Follow me and I will show you where they are." Major Caine and Lieutenant Hadley followed the nervous commander along the corridor until they came to a wide door. "Through here sir," he said, opening the door and allowing the two men to enter the rooms. Major Caine took a quick look around and turned back to the Commander. "This will do fine," he said at last, allowing the commander to flee the room. "There goes a man who's whole world just fell apart," said Lieutenant Hadley, indicating the now closing door." Later, there came a soft knock on the door. "Enter," called Major Caine. The door opened and Abe Fortas stepped quickly in and closed the door behind him. "Abe," exclaimed Major Caine. I am glad to see you made it all right. Sit, sit," he said, indicating a chair." "I wanted to report to you as soon as possible," he said, strapping himself into the chair. Everything you set me to do is done and the plan is moving along according to schedule. "You heard the news then?, that an unidentified ship grabbed the synthesis chamber and is on its way?" "Yes sir. They could not contain the news, although they tried. The sled operator had a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He got back here about twelve hours ago." "The only thing," admitted Major Caine," I could not control was the location of the Hermes. She's at Mercury." "Mercury? What is she doing there?" "They had an accident that took out most of their life support. The Hermes rushed needed spares to them, since she is the fastest ship we have." "What does this mean to the operation?" "I'm not sure. It depends on how much reaction mass they have left. There is always the possibility that they will catch the intruder." "So what do we do now?," asked Abe. "Nothing except continue with the plan. The rebels have a good chance of escaping since she carries nearly full reaction mass tanks." "Well, I'm ready to go whenever you are," said Abe. "Good. Lieutenant Hadley is waiting at the ship-lock for us. We will boost directly out to the belt and Alpha base. I believe it is time to abandon this sinking ship once and for all." They carefully made their way to the ship via the surface of the Rock. They exited by a seldom-used lock where Abe had earlier disconnected the alarm to central control. They wanted to be sure that no one knew they were leaving, especially the pilot they had picked up on the Moon. They were unobserved as they clambered up the boarding ladder and into the small ship. "We are ready back here," Major Caine called to Lieutenant Hadley once they were strapped in and ready for the boost. Nothing changed as the hours flew by. The Giant killer continued to pull ahead of the three ships. With Venus well behind them, she had built up a sizeable lead but still remained well within scan range. "Shaun to the bridge please," Charlie called over the intercom. A few minutes later the door on the bridge swung open and Shaun popped in. "What's up?," he asked. "Would you like to know where the Hermes is?," asked Charlie. "She's in orbit around Mercury," he continued before Shaun could say anything. Charlie flipped out of the seat in front of the scanner and allowed Shaun to sit. In it he could clearly see the three pursuit ships out near the edge of the scan, and Mercury, with the Hermes in a fast orbit around her. Shaun keyed the intercom. "Crew to the bridge please. Man acceleration stations." Before long all four were strapped into their seats and apprised of the situation. "We have a long way to go yet, and now I'm not sure we will make it. It's a whole new ball-game now." Mercury orbit lay an hour away and the distance to the solar orbit needed for the grav-whip lay farther yet. "She's moving," reported Michaela from the scanner station. Shaun glanced over to Charlie. "Looks like you will get a chance to test your new toy after all, Doc." Charlie nodded grimly but said nothing. Joe, in the auxiliary pilots seat was operating the navigation equipment and running acceleration and speed estimates as the Hermes moved. "FIrst estimate coming in," he said finally. "Engine plume is short so she is not at full power yet. She's at three point five gee-s, steady. assuming that her tanks are full she can catch us before we hit grav-whip. But not at three point five. We will clear the sun ahead of her if she does not accelerate!" "By how much?," asked Shaun. "Uh, lets see. Shit. Twenty-thousand kilometers or so." "Doc, I sure hope that machine of yours works because we can't escape her with our engines," stated Joe finally." Inward they fell, the quarry and its faster pursuer. The hours fled faster than the kilometers as the Hermes closed in on it's prey. At last the orbits were warped by the sun. First the Giant Killer, followed closely by the Hermes and then, far to the rear the Eccet, the Peking Star and finally the Prinz Franz. Around the sun they streaked, allowing the sun's gravity to boost their speed. "Approaching breakout point," reported Joe. "Good," said Shaun. Ready Charlie?" "Yes," he reported. "But something is wrong" "What?," asked Shaun nervously. "The equipment is fine," Charlie said to calm Shaun's nerves. "But I have a much higher gauss reading than expected. We somehow miscalculated the strength of the sun's magnetic field by more than a factor of two." "What does that mean?," asked Shaun. "Higher acceleration than we expected," said Charlie. "That's good," said Shaun "How much higher?" "Best guess?, eight to twelve gee's." "No," corrected Shaun. "That's bad." No one else said anything. All were experienced enough to know what that meant to them all. "There is nothing to do but go for it," said Shaun. Without it, we are caught for sure." "Yes," said Charlie simply. "Navigation, position," ordered the Captain on the bridge of the Hermes. "Nineteen thousand kilometers and closing, sir," "Weaponry control, load a dummy missile into #1 launcher." "Yes sir," answered the weaponry officer. "But I don't understand sir." "We want them to stop, not destroy them. They won't know it is a dummy missile. They will assume it is live. I am trying to scare them into talking to us." "I see sir. Missile loaded and locked onto target." "Fire on my command Lieutenant," ordered the Captain. "What could cause a higher gauss reading?," asked Michaela. "Sunspots," answered Joe. "During periods of increased solar activity the sun's magnetic field increases in strength. "That's not all that happens!," shouted Michaela. I have a solar flare on scan!" "Damn," said Shaun "Let's get the hell out of here. "Charlie, you're on." Charlie threw the switches, engaging the supercooling system to the SC drive and the temperature started to drop toward the critical point. "You're not going to believe this," shouted Joe. "But I have a missile on scan! It's from the Hermes!" "So what else is going to happen?," asked Shaun loudly. "Everyone brace, we're gonna go, one way or the other!" Shaun had almost finished speaking when the SC drive cut in, catching them all off-guard with the surge of raw power. Joe's right arm, fingers poised on the main engine firing button slammed back into his armrest, sending a blinding wave of pain into his already acceleration-numb brain. Mercifully, black overtook him and he slipped into unconsciousness. Shaun was not so lucky. The surge didn't catch him physically off guard but surprised him none-the-less. "Damn thing works he croaked, his eyes focussing on the acceleration meter. "Eleven and a half gees and steady," he reported. Michaela also managed to hold onto consciousness, but not by much. She could see the edges of black trying to push inward and fought it off, her eyes glued to the scan as the missile crept closer and closer. Finally, at less than a half a kilometer, the distance between the two started to widen as the Giant killer pulled away. "Outran it, Captain," she said to Shaun, her voice lowered to a husky growl. She did not know if Shaun heard her or not. Finally she too surrendered to the black and allowed unconsciousness to whisk her away. Charlie went out with the first wave of acceleration. Older and in poorer shape, he did not have the stamina of the other three to fall back on. Finally, assured the ship was safe, Shaun also let the darkness crawl forward over his eyes and he too escaped the terrible pressure. "I don't believe it, sir," reported the Navigation officer on board the Hermes. "What is it Lieutenant?," asked the Captain. "The intruder sir. She's accelerating at eleven point five six three gees and just outran our missile!" "Impossible!," he said in disbelief. He pushed out of his own seat and joined the lieutenant at the scanner. He then accessed the comp and called up an outside camera view of the fleeing ship. "No engine flare, Lieutenant. She is not under power." "Not according to the scan sir," the young Lieutenant said. "According to the comp, the missile approached within a kilometer of the ship and is now over ten kilometers away and falling behind!" The captain bent over the scan, checking the data for himself, finally accepting the evidence stacked against everything his experience told him. 13 "Send a message to Earth," ordered the Captain of the Hermes. "Give them all of the data we possess. Emphasize that the unknown ship, using a new type of drive system, escaped us in grav-whip. "Sir!," shouted the Navigation Officer. "I have indications of a solar flare!" "Oh shit. Where is it going?" "Computing." Everyone on the bridge knew of the dangers of solar flares while in grav-whip. Silence gripped the crew as they waited for the results. "It will miss sir, but not by much." "Good," he said, relieved. "How about the other three ships?" "They are still in grav-whip, sir," announced the officer. "I don't know. Let me check." He swung the main camera array around and increased the filtration to max. "The Eccet is visible sir, but not the Peking Star or the Prinz Franz." "Contact the Eccet. Find out their status. And keep trying to contact the other two." "Yes sir," he said although they both knew there was little hope for them. He tried one frequency after another in a forlorn hope of establishing contact with the three ships. "Nothing sir. All channels are dead." "Navigation, what are our chances of catching the intruder?" "Zero, sir." "Then decelerate and match with the Eccet. And continue to try to find the others." A number of Yes sir's followed the command as the bridge crew turned to it's tasks. "Sir," reported the communications officer some time later. "Message received from Lunar Command. They request that you recheck your data and discard all erroneous readings." The captain shot him a grim smile. "That's a polite way of saying 'your nuts'" Mahjid Bey faced a strangely quiet Senate. It was ironic that it took an event of this magnitude to assemble every delegate. This, he believed was the first face to face session to report one hundred percent participation in the forty-plus years of the World Senate's existence. "The Hermes reports that the intruder used completely new type of drive that appears to be a form of antigravity. It went from Mercury orbit to Venus orbit in nine hours, which indicates a speed in excess of four million kilometers an hour. This is far above anything we are capable of. This data has been verified by lunar command. She will be crossing Earth orbit in about eight hours." "Do we have anything capable of meeting it and stopping it?," came an unidentified voice from the crowd. "No. It is crossing too far ahead of our position. The Hermes, our fastest is still down in the vicinity of Mercury and cannot get here inside of twenty days. And we have nothing else available." "How about at Mars?" "Again no. Mars is at present behind us and therefore even farther out of position. Also, according to the last reports from Lunar Command, the ship has changed course to lift itself above the plane of the ecliptic. However, Lunar Command reports she did so with a conventional drive, not the antigravity drive." "Is there an explanation for that?," asked another voice. "The scientists believe it is some sort of gravitic repulsion drive. It works well going away from the Sun but the ship must be close to the Sun for it to work. They don't seem to be able to change course with it." "Who do you think they are?" "Not human," answered Mahjid Bey. "A man could survive eleven and a half gees but he would not be happy about it. Any pilot I know of would cut the drive as soon as they realized they had gotten away. But whoever is in that ship let the drive operate for almost fourteen hours! Barring something simple like a drive malfunction, they are aliens." "What about the survivors from the Eccet?," asked the French Senator, changing the subject. "The five men are on board the Hermes and are being brought here as fast as possible. The Eccet itself is a wreck. Drive systems totally gone and it's life support and emergency power systems barely operational. It is repairable but not in space. "The Hermes is not rigged for towing but a heavy tug has been dispatched to salvage it. However the Prinz Franz and the Peking Star are gone. No trace of either ship or their twelve man crews." Mahjid Bey stopped talking, his thoughts on those thirty-six brave men who set off in pursuit less than a month ago. Now only five were returning. And their survival was still in question!" Joe opened his eyes to see the familiar ceiling of his cabin above his head. He was strapped into his hammock, with Michaela close by. "What happened?," he asked, amazed at how tired he was. "Quiet down and lie still," she answered. "You will be fine and you are still feeling the effects of the sedation. Your right arm is badly broken but I have set and cast it. You are lucky. The break was in your upper arm and the high-gees acted as a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. it's possible you might still lose a finger or two but probably not." Joe closed his eyes and tried to rest. "The others?," he asked finally. "I am okay. Tired, shook up but physically sound. Shaun is awake and on the bridge. He looks ten years older but claims he feels fine. I'm not so sure, though. "Dr. Quade however is still unconscious. I think he suffered some internal injuries but again I cannot tell. He is resting lightly and doesn't seem to be laboring. He has a good strong pulse and respiration so again I'll just have to wait and see." Joe could do little more than nod as he slipped back into sleep. The next time he awoke, Michaela was gone. He carefully unstrapped himself and slowly made his way to the bridge. There he found Shaun but again Michaela was nowhere to be seen. "Feeling okay Joe?," Shaun asked. "No, I feel like I got spit out an exhaust port. You?" "Bruised, battered and I think I cracked a rib. But don't tell Michaela. She'll have me taped up in a heartbeat." "You're sure you will be okay?," asked Joe. "My injuries will not kill me, if that's what you mean. However our other problems just might." "Problems?, like what?" Joe asked Cautiously. Shaun wore too serious an expression for Joe's liking. "We were under power for nearly fourteen hours at eleven plus gees at the start, tapering down to near zero before the power ran out," Shaun said bluntly. Joe did a bit of quick mental math and came up with a figure far too high to believe. He turned to the comp and entered the figures. The answer he received made him wish he had believed his first rough calculation. "I calculate we are traveling at just over four million kilometers per hour, right?" "Close enough. We left Grav whip twenty-two hours ago and have already crossed Venus orbit. It will take us twelve hours more to cross Earth orbit!" Joe slid into the navigation station and strapped himself in. "Then the next question is, how the hell do we stop?" "That's the problem I have no idea how to solve. I can knock about a half-mil off by expending our reaction mass, but then what? Damned if I know!" "Is Charlie awake yet?," asked Joe hopefully. "No, not yet. Michaela is tending him but there is no change yet." "Damn!" "It's up to us, Joe. We can't expect Charlie to pull us out of everything." "Okay, then let's do something. First, I don't like hitting the belt at four mil plus. Can we get above the plane?" "Yes. I already ran that one. It's easy enough from here. We can use a minimum amount of reaction mass. The closer we get though the more fuel we will have to expend." "Then let's do it." Joe called Michaela, back in Charlie's cabin and informed her of the coming operation. She securely fastened Charlie into his hammock before reporting to the bridge. "How much does she know?," asked Joe before Michaela arrived. "Nothing yet. You are the first person I told. No sense in worrying her more than necessary. She has enough on her mind taking care of Charlie." "She has to know," said Joe softly. "I know, but not now." "No!," stated Joe. If we don't tell her now, we will have to later. And later won't change anything. She is a part of the crew and should be in on everything. Also, if she takes one look at the Њscan, she will know something is wrong. Mercury should be on it, not Venus. "You're right," sighed Shaun. "We tell her now, when she arrives." They sat in silence until the door opened and Michaela joined them. "How's Charlie?," asked Joe. "Better," she answered. "He seems to be almost conscious. He has begun mumbling things that almost make sense. I have hope that he will awaken in a few more hours." "Good," said Shaun. "We need him. Badly." "I knew something was wrong. We were under power too long. The first thing that I noticed was that the accumulators were dead. Which means the SC drive was on until the power died. How fast are we going?" Joe shot a smile to Shaun. Just over four million KPH," he said to her. "Do you remember the comment you made just before picking up the chamber?," she said with a sly grin. "The one about maybe breaking the record for top speed?" "I sure do," said Joe with a smile of his own. We sure broke that one, gang." "If we can get home to brag about it, that is," pitched in Shaun. "What are we going to do?," asked Michaela. "First," said Shaun, "is get out of the junk zone. Once above the ecliptic we have time to plan and then we will see." "It seems to me," said Joe, "that the SC drive works on magnetic fields. Could we do any fly-by's and drop any speed that way?" "Maybe," said Shaun quickly. He called up the solar system on the big plotting table and put the current course in. "Earth, Mars and Jupiter are out," he said at once. But Saturn, Uranus and either Neptune or Pluto are well within our parameters. Nice thinking Joe!" The course correction took nearly no time at all and Michaela was soon on her way back to Charlie's cabin, leaving the two men to plan alone on the bridge. Unfortunately there was no information on the magnetic fields of any of the planets in the limited memory of the ship's comp. At last though,they had the course laid out and then went down to check on Dr. Quade. "Shh," said Michaela when they tried to push their way into his cabin. He's sleeping now but he did wake up. He is complaining of chest pains and his legs feel like they are asleep. I am afraid the strain put too heavy a load on his heart. He will have to take it easy for a while. I taped his ribs though, just in case." Joe and Shaun traded knowing grins but neither man said anything. Joe took Michaela by the arm and pulled her away from Dr. Quade. "Let us know what is happening with him. We have a few more maneuvers to make in the next few days and we don't want to injure him any more. But these maneuvers must be done if we have any chance of getting home." "I understand and I will do my best. She caught Joe by surprise by giving him a quick kiss before sending him out the door with Shaun. Joe spent the next week checking and repairing systems that were damaged by the SC drive. Due to the earlier work they had done, few systems needed very much work and soon he had all shipboard systems up to one hundred percent capacity. And over the next twelve days Dr Quade improved greatly. The chest pains were gone after the second day and the circulation problems had nearly cleared up. Joe and Shaun had flipped the ship a few days earlier so that any gees applied would be in the proper direction, along the axis of the ship. Charlie had diverted as much power as possible to the accumulators. Although they were not fully charged, they did carry enough power for the coming operation. Finally, all four were assembled on the bridge and were strapped into their seats. As the gauss meter began to show a slight magnetic field, Joe engaged the SC drive. At first the gee force was negligible but it slowly built up until it stood at one and a half gees. In an hour it was all over and the Giant Killer, pursuing it's long course outward, headed toward it's next appointed rendezvous with Uranus. Joe had connected the accumulator to the field coils as soon as the SC drive had been cut off "Might as well take every advantage we have," he said. "How much did we lose?," asked Shaun once Joe had finished his calculations. "Not enough," Joe replied. "About one hundred thousand KPH. We are still way up over three mil." "Next stop, Uranus," announced Shaun. We will give it another try in about ten days or so." Joe noticed that Michaela seemed to seek out his company more and more over the next few days and the time passed quickly for them until the day came when they all found themselves back on the bridge with Uranus on the screen. "Field is stronger, Captain," reported Joe. Charlie quickly energized the SC drive and again the gee's built up. This time, deceleration topped two and a half gees and the deceleration period was much longer also. "Dropped almost a mil," called Joe when the figures came in. Nothing was said on the bridge as the ship bent it's course toward the last meeting in the solar system. "Which one?," asked Joe. The four had gathered in the galley over coffee. "If we pick the wrong one, that's it. Last chance!" "Does it really matter?," asked Charlie. "There is no way we can drop two million kilometers per hour, no matter how strong the field is." "So what the hell should we do?," asked Shaun. "Quit?" "No, we have to keep trying," Charlie said. "At least it keeps us busy." "So what do we do next?" "I don't know," admitted Shaun. "I'm all out of answers." "We all are," agreed Michaela with a sad sigh. Joe left the galley to escape the oppressive atmosphere and Michaela hurried after him, catching up to him in the passage leading to his stateroom. "Are we going to die?," she blurted, before Joe knew she was there. "Probably," admitted Joe. And as he turned to face her, she slipped into his arms. "Make love to me? Please?," and together they slipped silently into his cabin. The following day the four met back in the galley. "Which of the two would take less fuel to reach?," asked Charlie. "Neptune," said Shaun quickly. "Then I think that is where we should go." "Why?," asked Joe. "We started this whole trip to deliver the synthesis chamber to the belt. Our first priority is to the belt. The first thing we do is decelerate as much as possible by passing Neptune. Then we unship one engine and the fuel tank with all of our remaining reaction mass. Since most of the mass will be gone, the engine will have enough power to deliver the synthesis chamber to the belt." "Then that's it?," asked Michaela. "Yes, that's it," agreed Charlie. But there will be plenty to keep us busy. Joe and I have to build a guidance module and then we have to bolt the whole thing together. And nothing heavy can be done until after the Neptune pass because we cannot afford to have loose equipment during the gee maneuvers." Joe and Michaela spent as much time together as possible. In the next few weeks most of Joe's time was spent with Charlie on the guidance module but he found time to be with Michaela. At last they were both relieved when the module was completed and it had passed it's's final tests. "Acceleration stations folks," announced Shaun "We have Magnetic field indication." Two hours later it was all over. Less than three hundred thousand KPH had been lost and they were still up over two mil. No words were said among the four. No words were needed. "I suggest a good long sleep," said Shaun. We will need all of our energy for the next few months." The last thing Charlie did was switch on the charging system before leaving the bridge. There was a lot of preparation to be done before the heavy work could be started. Detailed plans were made and parts were laboriously fabricated to connect the engine to the synthesis module. During this time, Michaela decided that Joe's arm had finally healed and removed his cast, finally allowing Joe to do much more of the heavy work than before. Once the connectors had been completed, the synthesis chamber was unshipped and moved alongside the ship. The removal of the engine went relatively quickly and was soon mated to the module. "Michaela," called Joe. "We need the guidance package. It's on the bridge, connected to the navigation computer. Will you get it for us?" She had no trouble locating the module. The ship's comp had finished the final programming run and it was ready to be installed. Her path brought her near the SC drive console and her gaze came to rest on the charging meter. "Strange," she thought. "Why is the console showing we are charging the accumulators?" She keyed the intercom quickly. "Dr Quade, could you come to the bridge please?," she asked. "Is there something wrong with the module?," he asked, concerned. "No, something else. But I'm not sure what it is." Charlie wasted no time at all getting up to the bridge. He was followed closely by Shaun and Joe, who had been delayed because of their pressure suits. "I'm not sure what it means," she said once he had arrived. "But we seem to be charging the accumulators!" A surprised look crossed the face of Charlie and he took a quick look at the charging display. "She's right," he said. "We are in a magnetic field, it seems." "We must get the chamber back aboard now!," ordered Shaun. "What about the engine?," asked Joe. "Leave it on. The whole package should fit inside. Just get it secured. Joe, you come with me. Michaela, you man the pilot's console. Charlie, secure everything loose around the ship that you can find. And Michaela?, please run a scan forward and try to find out what we are running into, okay?" The four split up. Shaun and Joe retrieving their pressure suits and met at the main airlock. They each carried a portable thruster to help move the chamber. It turned out to be a long and laborious job but at last they got the chamber, engine and all back into the central cavity. The module itself, being relatively small, fit with no problem. However the engine, being quite a bit larger was much harder to fit. It took them much longer than expected to finally get it secured for the high-gee maneuvers to come. At last they were finished and cycled back through the main lock. Once out of their suits they joined Charlie and Michaela on the bridge. "What have we got?," asked Shaun. "Charon!," announced Michaela to a surprised Shaun. At least what people would have called Charon until Pluto's moon was discovered. The tenth planet at any rate!" "The tenth planet?," asked Joe. "Are you sure? People have been looking for it for a hundred years!" "They weren't looking for it in the right place!," said Michaela smugly. "How so?," asked Shaun. "It's simple, really," said Michaela. "The solar system follows strict laws concerning the placement of the planets. Modern astronomers were able to predict the orbits of the outer planets before they were actually spotted. With the exception of Pluto, and now this new planet. We are calling it Dys, another of the aspects of hell. All the others fall within this rigid set of rules." "So why are Pluto and Dys different?," asked Joe. "Pluto's orbit is deformed. There are times when Pluto is not the outermost planet. Neptune is. The standard explanation is that Pluto is a captured planet. Also, due to the wobble of Pluto, a tenth planet has been speculated for years but no one had been able to find it. The answer is simple. It's not where it is supposed to be!" Charlie sat in the Navigation console, letting Michaela talk. After all, she had found it, let her have her fun. "It's out of position by a few billion kilometers. And that's not all. Pluto's orbital deformation is not due to the fact that it is a captured planet at all. It was formed right here where all of the other planets were. "Then what is causing it's deformation?," asked Joe. Michaela wore a smug smile, savoring the puzzled looks on Joe and Shaun's faces. "Dys is. It's gravity is what is causing the deformation!," announced Michaela. "It's gravity?," asked Shaun. "How big is Dys anyway?, it would have to be huge," he said finally. "Actually, it's tiny. The pictures we have received show that the physical size of Dys Beta is smaller than our moon." "Back up," said Joe. You said Dys Beta" "Correct. We have pictures of Dys Beta. We haven't actually seen Dys Alpha yet but it seems to be a small rotating black hole, with Dys Beta in orbit around it." "A black hole?," said Joe, finding it hard to believe. "Are you sure?" "No, we aren't. Beta is orbiting what seems to be an empty point in space. There is a tremendous magnetic field surrounding it and we can measure it's gravitational field due to the effects it has on Beta and on distant Pluto. Although we haven't seen it yet we do know it's there," said Charlie finally. "How big is it?," asked Shaun. "Small. Very small. About one one hundredth the size of our sun. Probably the remnant of a long-dead supernova, said Charlie. "Have you officially named it yet?," Shaun asked Michaela. "The discoverer of a new planet is entitled to name it, you know." "Yes, she did," said Charlie. The planetoid will retain the name Dys but I have entered the name of the black hole as the Riecce Singularity!" "You did what!," screeched Michaela. "You never told me that!, how could you do that?" "It was simple. A few buttons on the keyboard and it's done. Besides, you did discover it." "That's not what I meant and you know it!" "Sure. But you would have never have agreed to it if I told you before I did it!" "Damn right I wouldn't have. What makes you think I wanted a planet named after me?" "Well do you?," Charlie asked bluntly. She softened slightly. "Well, now that it's done, it is nice. And how many people have a planet named after themselves?" "A lot of Gods, that's who," said Shaun, enjoying her predicament. "You are in good company. If I do say so. But anyway. We have a job to do. Acceleration stations everyone. "How strong is the field," Shaun asked Charlie, once everyone had taken their seats. "Strong, strong enough," said Charlie at last. "Gauss reading?," asked Shaun. "It will stop us," said Charlie "But how fast?," asked Shaun. "Is it too strong?" Charlie knew without checking that the field was stronger than the solar field but also knew he couldn't tell Shaun. This was their last chance and he wouldn't allow anyone to pass it by. "Not bad, Shaun. We'll all make it," he lied. "Ready when you are." "Joe," ordered Shaun. "Set the comp to cut off the SC drive when our speed is low enough to put us in orbit around Dys." "Done," said Joe, entering a sequence of commands on his comp terminal. "Then this is it, folks," said Shaun. "See you on the other side!" The four of them braced for the shock. Charlie flipped the switch and the big ship shook and bucked against the enormous acceleration forces. A distinguished man stood facing a gleaming statue set in front of an elegant building. The sparkle of the transparent dome could be seen overhead, slightly dimming the brilliant stars. Beside him stood a boy, just entering manhood. On the base of the statue was a brass plaque. Dr. Charles Quade Erected by the grateful people of the federation of free asteroids as a memorial to his sacrifice. Born: Chicago: 2021 Died: Dys B: 2079 "You knew him, didn't you, dad?" "Yes son. I counted him as one of my best friends." "Do you know how he died?" "Yes." "We studied the revolution in history but so much was left out. Like how he died and who the crew was. It was glossed over in school and no one seems to know any more that what is in the official texts." "At first it was to protect the crew from the retaliation of the Earth Government once they found out the truth. Later, when it was obvious that Earth could not mount a retaliatory expedition, to protect the privacy of the crew." "Then you know who the crew members were?" The boy asked eagerly. "Do you remember meeting Shaun O'Cassidy?" "The old man in the Hospital? Sure I do." "He was the Captain of the Giant Killer." "Is that where he got his injuries?" "Yes. It was a miracle that he survived." Joe turned to face his son. "Tonight is our last night here and I believe you deserve the whole tale. The truth." He led his son to a low bench beneath a tree, growing close to the side of the magroad. "You learned the important things in history. Why the Giant Killer was sent, the solar flare that killed thirty-five men and three ships and you learned of the discovery of Dys A and B. "Yes, I know that all the history books say is that the crew brought the ship back to the belt and that Dr. Quade was dead. It goes into great detail about setting up the beanstalk and how it revitalized the belt economy." "And then there was the whole section on the Earth's belief that the Synthesis chamber was stolen by an alien culture, the subsequent collapse of Earth's economy and the break-up of the World Senate. And of how we took over the Mercury outpost and are now engaged in the massive rebuilding of Earth. It's ironic. The Earth Senate decided that the Belt population was surplus and condemned them to die, and nearly killed themselves in the process. "I remember all of that dad," the boy interrupted. "Well, when Charlie engaged the SC drive.." "You mean the Quade drive, right?" "Okay, the Quade drive. He knew that he could not take the high gees to come. So he reported a much lower flux density. The deceleration was immediate and crushing. Peak deceleration hit fifteen plus gees. By the time we realized what was happening it was too late to stop. Charlie died almost immediately." "Michaela, your mother came through better than the rest of us. I re-broke my arm, cracked three ribs, my lower leg was broken in three places and my right ankle was also broken. "Michaela cracked a couple of ribs, broke three fingers and two toes. "Captain O'Cassidy's spine was broken, his pelvis and right leg fractured and he suffered a serious concussion. If it hadn't been for Michaela, none of us would have made it back. She nursed us back to health and returned the ship to the belt. I'll never know how she managed it, but she did. Considering the fact that we were missing a main engine, it's a miracle that any of us are alive today." "Both you AND mom?," the boy asked in awe. "That's where we met. And we've been together ever since. Joe stood. "It's time we got back. We'll be late if we don't hurry. A shuttle was waiting for the two of them at the small port. Overhead they could see the huge ship waiting for them. A very short flight put them at the shuttle access lock, the large doors sliding open as they approached, allowing the shuttle to slip into the big bay. "Welcome aboard, sir," said a junior Officer, saluting smartly. "The Captain is waiting for you on the bridge" Joe returned the salute. "Thank you, ensign. Carry on." He turned to his son. "Let's go see what he wants, okay?" They took the tubelift up to the bridge level where they were met by the Captain. "Admiral," said Abe Fortas, once Joe had stepped out of the lift. We were waiting for your return before removing spin. All systems are go and your wife left you a message. She said that she would see you later after her duties in Navigation are over." "Then let's take her out," said Joe to the waiting bridge crew. "Aye aye, sir." Abe keyed a switch on his console. "May I have your attention please," he announced through the big ship. "Free fall in five minutes. Crew to acceleration stations please. Initial boost in ten minutes and High-gee acceleration in one hour." Control jets fired on the hull of the huge ship. Slowing it's rotation to a stop. Large engines flamed into life, moving the huge ship slowly away from it's orbital position, moving closer and closer to the invisible singularity. Finally, in position, the engines were cut off and the Quade drive was engaged. At six gees, the huge ship, unrecognizable as the once rebel Alpha base headed outward into the interstellar void on a straight line course for Alpha Centauri. "Admiral," an ensign interrupted. "A message has been received from President Efram Caine." "Please read it," ordered Joe. "To interstellar ship Explorer. Good luck. Our hearts and good wishes go with all of you." |