“I assign you a new task. It is a problem that has mushroomed. I speak of dream dust usage. The Sun Works Police Chief tells me that the sellers are very subtle. You must find and stamp out these sellers. Then you must discover where they manufacture this foul substance and destroy the sites. If you should fail me in this small task, Moral Enforcer, then these past seven minutes will seem like paradise in comparison.”
Without another word, the Praetor left.
Hansen sagged and his knees buckled. Fortunately, the two techs kept him from falling.
“Time to leave, sir,” said the taller of the two techs.
Hansen nodded and let them guide him to the dressing room.
7.
Nadia Pravda rode the pod to the secret hanger. She meant to leave the Sun Works Factory forever. Her heart raced and she dreaded the lack of running lights of the formerly thousands of busy space vehicles. Near space seemed so empty around the Ring-factory now. Would the station tracker pinpoint her and wonder about her unscheduled flight? She dared it because she couldn’t hide in the crawl space any longer.
Her natural caution caused her to park and anchor the pod a kilometer from her destination. She towed a huge bundle of supplies and clang, clang, clanged her way along the habitat’s inner ring. Later she punched in the door code and went through the smaller hatch. She used the flashlight Marten had used the first time and then clanged to the stealth pod. Soon she reached the craft’s hatch, a smooth, black, oval-shaped door. She put the code-breaker over the lock and pressed a button. Lights flashed as the code-breaker went to work.
Time passed. Nadia grew impatient. After two hours, she switched oxygen tanks. Still the code-breaker winked its lights. She began to feel uneasy. She rechecked the code-breaker. Like the dumb little brute that it was it flash, flash, flashed, coming up with codes and testing each. She clicked the flashlight and washed it around the hanger.
Bad mistake, she realized.
Two men in vacc suits floated toward her.
She yelped in terror and clawed for her tangler. Dark clots flew at her. She ducked and swayed, but one hit her vacc suit and tangled her with strong, wiry strands. She struggled, but that only tightened them.
The vacc-suited duo floated closer. Their visors were dark so she couldn’t see who they were. At least they weren’t big enough to be Highborn.
The code-breaker flashed green as the duo reached her. One of them switched off her magnetic boots and picked her up. No! This wasn’t fair! Her stomach twisted and heaved. The other one opened the hatch and floated inside. Then, to her amazement, the second one entered the pod and took her along. She was in the ultra-stealth pod after long last, but not in the manner she had envisioned.
As the one man held her, the other explored the main cabin. He studied the board and pressed several switches. Lights came on and soon the oxygen bulb showed that the air was breathable.
The first man removed his helmet. It was Hansen. He had circles around his eyes and his mouth twitched. He seemed to be in pain. His eyes bored into her after the other man took off her helmet. Then the second man removed his. It was Ervil, with a big white bandage over his nose. He stared at her in a cold manner, as if she were an insect. He frightened her, he always had.
“What is this ship?” asked Hansen, wincing every time he moved.
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Tell me,” he said, trying to sound patient but doing a poor job of it.
“It’s a ship, like you said.”
Ervil grabbed a fistful of her vacc suit—to steady her, she realized a moment later—and slapped her across the face.
“Yes,” said Hansen. “I can see that it’s a ship. And you don’t need to hit her, Ervil.”
Ervil shrugged.
The setback was too stunning for tears. It left her flat, almost emotionless. She said, “Marten called it an ultra-stealth pod. It will, or should I say that it was supposed to have taken us to the Jupiter Confederation.”
Hansen’s foxy eyebrows rose. “You two have been busy. May I know why you wanted to journey to Jupiter?”
“Who wants to live under the Highborn?” she said. “But Marten also hates Social Unity, so Jupiter, is the closest system after Mars.”
“Word is the Martians rebelled against Social Unity when the Highborn first destroyed Geneva,” said Hansen. “And now the Highborn no longer garrison it with a Doom Star, not after May 10. Why not flee to Mars?”
She shook her head. “It’s in Inner Planets. Sooner or later it will be dragged into the war.”
Hansen glanced around, wincing as he did. He asked her, “Could this pod actually make to the Jupiter System?”
She couldn’t shrug with the tangle strands wrapping her. “The short answer is yes,” she said.
“What are you thinking, boss?” asked Ervil.
“Have you ever spent any time in a pain booth?” Hansen asked Ervil.
The short, wide-shouldered monitor shook his head.
“It’s unpleasant, an experience I don’t plan on repeating,” said Hansen. “It has also opened my eyes to reality. You can never please a Highborn.”
“You don’t think the Praetor would be pleased if you turned this up?” asked Ervil. “He might even make you Chief Monitor again.”
“He plans to stamp out all dream dust production,” said Hansen. “And to find the manufacturers and… I don’t know his plans for them, but that’s us, you and me—and you,” he told Nadia.”
Ervil touched the bandage swathed across his nose. His dead, emotionless eyes revealed nothing.
“I have a question,” said Nadia.
“Ask,” Hansen said.
“How did you find me?”
“Ah. When you last entered the habitat, to get your dream dust, I presume, a spy-stick shot an automated tracker onto your vacc suit.”
Nadia closed her eyes. She had forgotten to sweep her suit for bugs. Stupid. When she opened her eyes, she said, “So what do you plan?”
“Can you pilot this ship?” asked Hansen.
“Yes.”
Hansen blew out his cheeks in relief. “Then here and now I forgive you your errors.”
“What about him?” she asked.
Hansen regarded Ervil. “We’re finished in the Sun Works Factory.”
“You got too greedy, boss, that was the problem.”
Hansen stiffened. Maybe he wasn’t used to that sort of talk from his clean-up man. “Maybe so,” he said. “But I propose that we start fresh in the Jupiter System. She brought dream dust. So did I. That will be our stake in the new world.”
Ervil didn’t move and his gray eyes seemed to grow dull. “How long will the trip take?”
“Six months,” she said. “Maybe longer.”
Ervil shook his head. “You’ll go stir crazy, boss. And two men with one woman, that’s bad.”
“We need her to pilot the ship,” Hansen said.
Ervil turned his lifeless eyes on Nadia. He shrugged. “What about Dalt and Methlen?”
“They’ll have to fend for themselves,” Hansen said. “Five seems like too many people for this craft.”
Ervil grunted.
“Now untangle her,” said Hansen.
“Maybe it would be smarter to keep her tangled,” Ervil said. “She could tell you what to do and you pilot the ship. That way we don’t take no chances.”
