leaving the hospital. Or maybe one of the maintenance crew going home.
Most of Selene was underground, and the hospital was two levels down. Bracknell’s first move was to call up a map on the information screen across the corridor from the hospital’s entrance. He found the transportation center, up in the Main Plaza, and headed for it.
I’m free! he marveled as he strode along the spacious corridor, passing people walking the other way. Not a thing in my pockets and the hospital authorities might call Selene’s security people to search for me, but for the moment I’m free to go where I want to.
The place he wanted to go to was Hell Crater.
He located a powered stairway and rode it up to Selene’s Main Plaza, built on the surface of the great crater Alphonsus. Its concrete dome projected out from the ringwall mountains and onto the crater floor. Bracknell saw that the Plaza was green with grass and shrubbery; there were even trees planted along the winding walkways. An Olympic-sized swimming pool. A bandshell and stage for performances. Shops and little bistros where people sat and chatted and sipped drinks. Music and laughter floated through the air. Tourists flitted overhead, flying on their own muscle power with colorful rented plastic wings. Bracknell smelled flowers and the aroma of sizzling food.
It’s marvelous, he thought as he headed for the transportation center. This is what they cut me off from: real life, real people enjoying themselves. Freedom. Then he realized that he had neither cash nor credit. How can I get to Hell Crater? Freedom doesn’t mean much when you are penniless.
As he approached the transportation center, an eager-looking young man in a splashy sports shirt and a sparkling smile fell in step beside him. “Going to Hell?” he asked brightly.
Bracknell looked him over. Blond crew cut, smile plastered in place, perfect teeth. A glad-handing salesman, he realized.
“I’m thinking about it,” Bracknell said.
“Don’t miss Sam Gunn’s Inferno Casino,” said the smiling young man. “It’s got the best action.”
“Action?” Bracknell played naive.
“Roulette, blackjack, low-grav craps tables, championship karate competition.” The smile grew even wider. “Beautiful women and free champagne. Dirty minds in clean bodies. What more could you ask for?”
Bracknell looked up at the transportation center’s huge display of departures and arrivals.
The young pitchman gripped his arm. “Don’t worry about that! There’s an Inferno Special leaving in fifteen minutes. Direct to the casino! You’ll be there in less than two hours and they’ll even serve you a meal in transit!”
“The fare must be—”
“It’s free!” the blond proclaimed. “And your first hundred dollars’ worth of chips is on the house!”
“Really?”
“As long as you buy a thousand dollars’ worth. That’s a ten percent discount, right off the bat.”
Bracknell allowed himself to be chivvied into a cable car painted with lurid red flames across its silver body. Fourteen other men and women were already sitting inside, most of them middle-aged and looking impatient.
As he took the empty seat up front, by the forward window, one of the dowdyish women called out, “When are we leaving? We’ve been waiting here almost an hour!”
The blond gave her the full wattage of his smile. “I’m supposed to fill up the bus before I let it go, but since you’ve been so patient, I’ll send you off just as soon as I get one more passenger.”
It took another quarter hour, but at last the car was sealed up. It rode on an overhead cable to the massive airlock built into the side of the Main Plaza’s dome. Within minutes they were climbing across Alphonsus’s worn old ringwall mountains and then down onto the plain of Mare Nubium. The cable car rocked slightly as it whizzed twenty meters above the bleak, pockmarked regolith. It smelled old and used; too many bodies have been riding in this bucket for too long, Bracknell thought. But he smiled to himself as the car raced along and the overhead speakers gave an automated lecture about the scenic wonders they were rushing past.
There was no pilot or crew in the cable car; everything was automated. The free meal consisted of a thin sandwich and a bottle of “genuine lunar water” obtained from the vending machine at the rear of the car. Bracknell chewed contentedly and watched the Straight Wall flash by.
True to the blond pitchman’s word, the cable car went directly inside the Inferno Casino. The other passengers hurried out, eager to spend their money. Bracknell left the car last, looking for the nearest exit from the casino. It wasn’t easy to find; all he could see was an ocean of people lapping up against islands of gaming tables, looking either frenzied or grim as they gambled away their money. Raucous music poured from overhead speakers, drowning out any laughter or conversation. No exits in sight; the casino management wanted their customers to stay at the gaming tables or restaurants. There were plenty of sexy young women sauntering around, too, many in spray-paint costumes, but none of them gave Bracknell more than a cursory glance: in his gray coveralls he looked more like a maintenance man than a high roller.
When he finally found the casino’s main entrance, Bracknell saw that the entire Hell Crater complex of casinos, hotels, restaurants, and shops was built inside one massive dome. Like Selene, the complex’s living quarters and offices were tunneled underground. Bracknell studied a map display, then headed on foot to the rejuvenation clinic of Takeo Koga. It was one of six such clinics in the complex.
Down two levels and then a ten-minute walk along the softly lit, thickly carpeted corridor to Koga’s clinic. It was blessedly quiet down here, and there were only a few other people in sight. No one paid attention to Bracknell, for which he was thankful. It meant that there was no alarm yet from the hospital about his absence.
The sign on the door was tastefully small, yet Bracknell found it almost ludicrously boastful: ideal renewal center. koga takeo, M.D., D.C.S.
Hoping he didn’t look too disreputable, Bracknell opened the door and stepped into the small waiting room. Two brittle-looking women sitting in comfortable armchairs looked up at him briefly, then turned their attention back to the screen on the far wall, which was showing some sort of documentary about wild animals. Silky music purred from hidden speakers. There were two empty armchairs and a low table with another screen built into its surface. The table’s screen glowed softly.
Bracknell went to the table and bent over it slightly.
“Welcome to Ideal Renewal Center,” said a woman’s pleasant voice. “How may I help you?”
“I need to see Dr. Koga.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“This is about his brother, Toshikazu,” Bracknell replied.
A moment’s hesitation, then a different voice said, “Please take a seat. Someone will be with you in a moment.”
K0GA CLINIC
A young Asian woman opened the door on the far end of the waiting room and crooked a finger at Bracknell. Wordlessly she led him to a small examination room, gestured to the chair next to the examination table, and softly closed the door behind her as she left.
Bracknell suddenly felt uncomfortable. What if they’re calling security? But no, how would they know who I am? Still, he felt trapped in this tiny, utterly quiet room.
He stood up and reached for the door just as it swung open and a stocky, grim-faced Asian stepped in. He looked young, but his handsome face did not seem to go with his chunky build. His cheekbones were sculptured, his jawline firm, his throat slim and unlined. He wore a trim, dark moustache, and his hair was cut short and combed straight back off his forehead.
“I am Toshikazu’s brother, Takeo,” he said as he firmly closed the door behind him. Takeo looked suspicious, almost angry. He took in Bracknell’s unimpressive coveralls and paper shoes at a glance. He must be a good diagnostician, Bracknell thought.
“Well, what’s he done now?”
Bracknell took in a breath, then said, “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Takeo’s eyes widened. He tottered to the examination couch and sagged against it. “Dead? How did it happen?”
