The Rock Rats

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” the captain said, smiling knowingly.

Harbin looked at her sharply. “Afraid? Of you?” He barked out a single, dismissive laugh. Then he left her cabin and went immediately back to his own ship.

Only after he had broken away from the supply vessel and was heading deeper into the Belt did he open the packet and remove the chip it contained. As he expected, it contained a list of ships to be attacked, together with their planned courses and complete details of their construction. Another death list, Harbin thought as he studied the images passing across his screen.

Abruptly, the specification charts ended and Grigor’s lean melancholy face appeared on the screen.

“This has been added at the last moment,” Grigor said, his dour image replaced by the blueprints of a ship. “The ship’s name is Starpower. We do not have a course for it yet, but that data will be sent to you via tight-beam laser as soon as it becomes available.”

Harbin’s eyes narrowed. That means I’ll have to get to the preplanned position to receive the laser beam and loiter there until they send the information. He did not like the idea of waiting.

“This is top priority,” Grigor’s voice droned over the image of Starpower’s construction details. “This must be done before you go after any other ships.”

Harbin wished he could talk back to Grigor, ask questions, demand more information.

Grigor’s face appeared on the screen again. “Destroy this one ship and you might not need to deal with any of the others. Eliminate Starpower and you might be able to return to Earth for good.”

WALTZING MATILDA

“I have good news,” Nodon said as George pushed through the hatch into the bridge. “While you were EVA I wired the backup laser into the comm system.”

George squeezed into the right-hand seat. “The backup laser?”

“From our supply stocks. Back in the storage section.”

“And it works?”

Nodon beamed happily. “Yes. The laser can carry our communications signals. We can call for help now.”

Breaking into a guarded smile, George asked, “We’ll hafta point it at Ceres, then.”

“The pointing is the problem,” Nodon said, his happiness diminishing. “At the distance we are from Ceres, the beam disperses only a dozen kilometers or so.”

“So we hafta point it straight onto the optical receivers, then.”

“If we can.”

“And the fookin’ ’roid rotates in about nine hours or so, right?”

“I believe so,” Nodon said. “I can look it up.”

“So that means we’d hafta hit their optical receivers bung on at just the right time when they’re pointin’ toward us.”

“Yes,” said Nodon.

“Like playin’ a fookin’ game o’ darts over a distance of thousands of kilometers.”

“Hundreds of thousands.”

“Fat chance.” Nodon bowed his head. For a moment George thought he might be praying. But then he looked up again and asked, “What of the engine? Can you repair the thruster?”

George grunted. “Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“You can?”

“If I had a repair shop available and a half-dozen welders, pipefitters and other crew.”

“Oh.”

Heaving a weary sigh, George said, “We’ll hafta depend on the laser, pal. The fookin’ engine’s a lost cause.”

CHAPTER 24

Lars Fuchs didn’t spend more than five minutes deciding what he was going to do. He called up the flight history data on Waltzing Matilda. Sure enough, Big George and his crewman had been working a fair-sized carbonaceous asteroid, according to the data they had telemetered back to the IAA. They had started mining it, then all communications from their ship had abruptly cut off. Efforts by the IAA controllers on Ceres to contact them had proved fruitless.

Evidence, Fuchs thought as he studied the flight data on his main comm screen. If I can locate Waltzing Matilda and find evidence that the ship was attacked, deliberately destroyed, then I can get the authorities Earthside to step in and do a thorough investigation of all these missing ships.

Sitting alone on the bridge of Starpower, he tapped the coordinates of the asteroid George had been working into his navigation computer. But his hand hovered over the key that would engage the program.

Do I want the IAA to know where I’m going? He asked himself. The answer was a clear no. Whoever is destroying the prospectors’ and miners’ ships must have exact information about their courses and positions. They can use the telemetry data that each ship sends out automatically to track the ships down.

I must run silently, Fuchs concluded. Not even Amanda will know where I am. The thought of the risk bothered him; the reason for sending out the telemetry signal was so the IAA would know where each ship was. But what good is that? Fuchs asked himself. When a ship gets in trouble, no one comes out to help. The Belt is too enormous. If I run into a problem I’m on my own. All the telemetry data will do is tell the IAA where I was when I died.

It took the better part of a day for Fuchs to take out Starpower’s telemetry transmitter and install it into the little emergency vehicle. Each ship carried at least one escape pod; six people could live in one for a month or more. An example of so-called safety regulations that looked important to the IAA and were in fact useless, ridiculous. An escape pod makes sense for spacecraft working the Earth/Moon region. A rescue ship can reach them in a few days, often in a matter of mere hours. But out here in the Belt, forget about rescue. The distances were too large and the possible rescue ships too few. The prospectors knew they were on their own as soon as they left Ceres.

Fuchs grinned to himself as he thought about all the other uses the emergency vehicles had been put to: extra storage capacity; extra crew quarters; micrograv love nest, when detached from the spinning ship so the pod could be weightless.

But you, he said silently as he installed the telemetry transmitter into Starpower’s escape pod, you will be a decoy. They will think you are me, while I head silently for George’s asteroid.

Once he returned to the bridge and sat in the command chair, he thought of Amanda. Should I tell her what I’m about to do? He wanted to, but feared that his message would be overheard by Humphries’s people. It’s obvious that they have infiltrated the IAA, Fuchs thought. Perhaps the flight controllers on Ceres are secretly taking money from him.

If something happens to the escape pod, Amanda will think I’ve been killed. How can I warn her, let her know what I’m doing?

Then he felt an icy hand grip his heart. What would Amanda do if she thought I was dead? Would she mourn me? Try to avenge me? Or would she run to Humphries? That’s what he wants. That’s why he wants me dead. Will Amanda give in to him if she thinks I’m out of the way?

He hated himself for even thinking such a thought. But he could not escape it. His face twisted into an angry