Torchship (10 page)

“Don’t have to, Skipper,”
replied the mechanic. “That’s been at the top of my wish list since I came on
board. It’s a huge jump in efficiency. Much stabler waste products. Heck, we
could start buying iridium for power fuel.”

“Seriously?” asked Bing. “I
thought you still wanted kids.”

“An 897 will eat iridium and
just give out direct current and some stable isotopes of iron. None of this
short-halflife crap our current converter puts out if we don’t feed it just
right.”

“Okay, we’ll take it,” said
the captain. “Huh. What’s the odds they’d have something that sweet sitting
around?”

“Well . . . it’s Disconnect-compatible
gear. Fusion ships would buy the version with lots of readouts and integrated
controls. 897s just have some analog dials and manual controls.” Guo wasn’t
convincing himself with that.

“Wouldn’t cost much to refit.
I’ll just chalk it up to our fairy godmother.” He made sure he had everyone’s
attention “We’ll have shore leave while the repairs are being done. I’ll have a
couple of crew meetings planetside, you’ll get advance notice, but stay on
twelve-hour recall. Oh, and the Navy wants each of us to go to their hospital
for a check-up after that unpleasantness. That’s free so be sure to ask about
any coughs or moles you’ve noticed.”

***

Mitchie didn’t want to deal
with the Navy any more than she had to. After a second reminder showed up on
her sheet she decided it would be less suspicious to go. Demeter had a more
efficient military than most. In a few hours she was in an examining room watching
a doctor fiddle with 3-D displays of her insides. “No physical trauma. Good
health overall.” He paused. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” answered
Mitchie.

“Huh.”

“I grew up on Akiak, in a
rural area,” she explained. “It’s a rough place to live.”

“Ah. Well, there’s nothing that needs repair. So we can talk
upgrades. There’s a lot that’s covered by the citizen stipend. I can give you
an immuno-monitor or basic comm implant.”

“I’m a Disconnected Worlds
citizen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. When I saw
the coverage I assumed you’d been granted residency.” The doctor went through
the list again. “There’s an upgrade we give to Marines, bone reinforcements.
It’s purely structural so it wouldn’t matter that you’re living outside the
network.”

“I
don’t think I’d get much benefit from that,” said Mitchie. Which was also what
she felt about the doctor. She still had to suffer through some diet and
exercise recommendations before she could escape.

Fives Full
Bridge Deck

MS
Barito
, Near Akiak, acceleration 0 m/s
²

Pete floated through the hatch without bumping the rim. A
month ago he hadn’t thought he’d ever be that graceful in free fall. Now he’d mastered
it just in time to be grounded again.

“Take a look,” said Agum from the pilot’s couch. “Your new
home.” Akiak filled the bridge windows, its daylight side dazzlingly bright.

“Wow,” said Pete. “It looks like someone painted an Easter
egg and didn’t let go of the ends.” The planet’s equatorial belt was a band of
green and blue between the massive icecaps.

Agum laughed. “The story is two terraforming ships arrived
here at once. They argued whether it could actually be terraformed. First ship
bet a ton of antimatter it could do it. Second one left and came back thirty
years later. It looked over Akiak, gave the first ship half a ton, and left
without a word.”

“Ha! Yeah, it’s on the edge. I’m surprised they have room
for more immigrants.”

“The ice shrinks a little each year.”

MS
Barito
, Akiak, gravity 10.3 m/s
²

“Pete!” yelled Hatta. “You’re clear to off-board.”

“Finally.” Pete started gathering up the cleaning brushes
and bucket.

“Leave that, I’ll have to finish the job later.”

“Sorry,”

“Nah, you’ve done good. I don’t think the ship was this
clean when she came from the builders. Grab your bag and meet the captain at
the mid airlock.”

“Aye-aye.” Pete had already packed his duffle in a fit of
optimism this morning. He shouldered it and headed for the ladder. Hatta
followed.

A stranger in a dark suit stood with the captain. The rest
of the crew spread out through the corridor. “Mr. Smith,” said the captain,
stepping forward to shake Pete’s hand. “We’ll be leaving you here. I want to
thank you for all your hard work. You’ve been good company on this trip.” The
rest of the crew gathered around offering handshakes, backslaps, and a mighty
hug from Otto the mechanic.

Agum stepped forward, holding a small bag. “We don’t want
you starving your first week there so we all chipped in our pocket change.”
Pete stammered thanks as he took the heavy bag. Agum leaned in to whisper, “Cap’n
put in gold.”

After some more farewells the suit led Pete off the ship. “Party’s
over,” said the captain. “Rig for cargo handling.”

“Already?” said Hatta.

“Michigan’s friend has some ore he needs moved.”

Primary Starport, Akiak, gravity 10.3 m/s
²

The suit had confined his conversation to making sure Pete
understood the difference between the different coins in his bag. Apparently
the frontier vids got that one right. When they arrived in the Immigrant Lobby
the suit pointed him at the receptionist and walked off without a word.

“Hi! Are you immigrating?” said the young woman at the
left-hand desk. The room had ten desks along one wall and more than two hundred
seats in back-to-back rows. Wordy posters covered the walls. The two of them
were the only people there.

“Yes. Yes I am,” said Pete. He sat down in the chair by her
desk.

“What’s your name?”

“Peter Smith.”

“You can take all the time you need to think of one, no need
to make a snap decision.”

“No, that’s my real name.”

“Oh. Well, this is Akiak. You can pick whatever you want for
your name. We don’t care what you went by elsewhere.”

“Um. I’ll stick with it. Peter Smith.”

The receptionist gave a tiny shrug and typed it in. Pete
realized the keyboard had to be physical. He didn’t have a display to see a
shared virtual overlay with.

“Date of birth?” She extracted all the information a triage
nurse would want. There weren’t any questions about his non-medical history.
Soon she handed him a small card. “This gives you basic access to the public
library network. Don’t use your password on that for any private system.
Welcome to Akiak, Probationary Citizen Smith.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, you’re done. I recommend taking some time to read the
posters before you go. They’re written by recent immigrants so there’s a lot of
practical advice.”

“Thank you.” He started with the one titled ‘NEVER BREAK A
PROMISE.’

***

The starport’s main entrance had benches outside. Pete sat
as the culture shock slammed into him. He’d expected the naked feeling of not
having a HUD to explain things to him. But the differences were obvious to the
naked eye.

Pedestrians kept almost bumping into each on the sidewalk.
One pair did collide, elbow brushing purse. They kept walking, muttering “excuse
me” over their shoulders. No sign of an Anti-Social Contact Warning lighting up
on their HUDs.

Some people didn’t bother with HUDs. Pete saw a man put a
HUD on, check something, then put it back in his pocket. The voluntary
isolation shocked him.

The street traffic looked as chaotic as the sidewalk but
they didn’t hit each other. He kept watching until he picked out which
occupants operated their vehicles on manual and which left the vehicle in
control. The ones on manual pushed the limits of the autocars to squeeze ahead
but gave each other plenty of room.

So much dangerous behavior and no arrests being made. His
head hurt.

His stomach hurt too. Hunger finally pried Pete off the
bench. He’d taken six copper coins out of the bag before stashing it in his
duffle (per the “Avoid Petty Crime” poster). It was time to find out how much
food they’d buy.

A thick sandwich and mug of beer only cost four of them.
Pete ate slowly, appreciating the taste of the beef.
Barito’s
crew had
fed him well but all he could taste was the spices.

His table had a small display reading “Dine-Net. Free to
customers. No login required.” Job listings were a top level menu item. Pete
typed in the name of his favorite programming language. A dozen listings came
up. All were Fusion immigrants offering to work for free to prove themselves.

He chewed another bit of his sandwich. He’d kept telling
himself not to count on getting professional work but it still hurt to feel the
hope die. Fortunately he had another skill.

Typing in “Cleaning” brought up pages of listings. The first
one was titled “SILVER IN YOUR HAND FIRST DAY.”
Well, it might take a long
time to save up for a programming rig, but I won’t starve.

Fives Full
Main Deck

Planet Demeter. Gravity
7.5 m/s
²

In three months on Lapis Mitchie had never explored the
dance clubs. She’d decided to correct that on Demeter. Billy had promised to
play tour guide. An autocab had picked him up just outside the spaceport with
the message “A young lady wishes to see you.” Mitchie couldn’t hold it against
him but she still missed him as she entered the chaos of the club.

Getting a drink and a table with a good view was easy.
Figuring out the dynamics of the club wasn’t. Billy had mentioned people
researching each other on the dance floor. The concept was so opposed to Disconnected
Worlds life that he’d dropped it with “it makes more sense when you see it.”
She could spot the virtual activity by its effects. Two strangers got up, met
on the dance floor, then left together.

Mitchie decided to give the local style a try. A
bland-looking man danced by himself at the edge of the dance floor. The
datasheet identified him as Jaime Sienta, 33 years old. He lived a few klicks
away. Worked as a “data integrity consultant,” whatever that meant. No criminal
record, just a typical set of traffic and privacy violation offenses. Clean
finances. No current legal partner. Looking into his social and reputation
networks showed no current romantic partner. He’d had a dozen of various
degrees of seriousness over the years. The last had dumped him eight months
back. Investigating that found a quote from the ex describing him as “sweet,
but boring.” She’d quickly acquired a new partner. He’d taken it less well,
lying low for a couple of months, then taking a high workload assignment. He’d
just started having an active social life again in the past month.

“Hello, mysterious lady.” Mitchie looked up to see her
research subject standing in front of her. He placed another daiquiri next to
her almost empty one.

Oh, crap
, she thought.
He got a ping from my
searches
. She put on a friendly smile.

“What’s a Disconnect spacer doing here?” Sienta asked.

“Just checking out the exotic native customs,” she answered.

“Was that your answer for Demeter or just the club?”

“The club. But Demeter’s pretty exotic too. It’s so
crowded
.”

“Why did you come to our crowded planet then?”

“A job. Somebody needed some big cargo hauled here and we
needed to get paid.”

“Why did a little ship like yours get a big cargo? I’d think
that would go on one of those huge freightliners.”

Realizing this stranger had already looked up the
Fives
Full
set Mitchie even more on edge. It took work to maintain a cheerful
tone as she explained how the liners insisted on standard container sizes to
let them make their turnaround times, leaving oddball cargo to the tramp ships
like hers.

“How long a turnaround are you—” Sienta cut himself off.
Mitchie saw his glasses flicker with something new being displayed. “Shucks. My
client just called me in. Lousy timing. That’s the price of being a
free-lancer.” He presented her with his contact info and dashed off to “piss on
the fire.”

Mitchie sipped the drink he’d bought her—certified as the
same contents as before by the bar tracking system—and tried to wrap her head
around what had happened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so
little control over a conversation. An alert popped up on her datasheet. She
opened it, expecting an order from her captain.

TO ASSOCIATES OF JAIME SIENTA, it began. BE ADVISED HE HAS
BEEN EXPOSED TO VIRUS WHB05749. MONITOR YOURSELF FOR SYMPTOMS. SEEK MEDICAL
ATTENTION IF YOU MAY BE INFECTED. Mitchie burst out laughing. Sienta’s work
emergency was just a feeble excuse to cover for having gotten his disease warning.
Curious what venereal diseases were a problem in the Fusion, Mitchie researched
the virus and how Sienta was exposed. It turned out to be one of the few
surviving strains of the common cold.
They sent out a disease vector warning
because the poor guy got sneezed on? Fuzies are
so
paranoid.

That tipped the balance. Mitchie left the club and started
walking back to the hostel. She wanted a guide the next time she went dancing.

***

Guo arrived a little early for the crew meeting. The purpose
wasn’t specified. Once he saw the address was for a firing range he stopped
wondering. Mitchie was already there. She waved him over. “Is this a normal
thing for this ship?” she asked.

“No, new on me. But the captain always prepares for
disasters. You should see the fire suppression gear in the hold.”

“There was a fire on the ship?”

“Not this one, his last one. Bad cargo. He got all the crew
off but couldn’t save the ship. Hit him hard—it was a big ship, four times the
size of
Fives Full
, and he was half-owner. If you ever see him in shorts
he’s got burn scars on—” Guo cut off as the captain and mate came into the
lobby. They made small talk for a few minutes. The mechanic touted the Demeter
Opera’s new show to everyone. Bing let them know how the repairs were progressing.
Finally Billy arrived, sporting a black eye and some cheek abrasions.

“Oh, no! Did someone set you up with that car ride?”
exclaimed Mitchie.

“Nope, that was exactly was I thought it was,” said Billy
with a grin. “The wear and tear are from when her parents caught up with us.”
He clearly had no regrets over it.

Schwartzenberger decided to ignore his deckhand’s
misadventure. “I don’t think we’ll ever face a situation like that boarder
again. But there’s other hazards out there. Ships have been hijacked or had
their cargos stolen. So I’ve decided we’re going to be better prepared the next
time someone attacks us.” A salesman had come up holding several cases. “We’ll
have weapons for each of us and armor-piercing ammunition.” The salesman
started a demo on how to use mechanical sights and unpowered ammo. Apparently
some locals liked to try out such exotic and tightly-restricted items. The
Fives
Full’s
crew was all Disconnect-bred so the captain hurried the salesman
past the theory and got everyone into the firing range. The rangemaster handed
them each a pistol. An instructor ushered the salesman out and took over making
sure everyone knew the basics. The employees ignored Mitchie—she’d arrived an
hour early and they’d already learned she didn’t need any help.

Once Schwartzenberger had gotten a feel for his new weapon—larger
than the one that had failed him against the boarder—he switched to the
armor-piercing ammo. Twenty rounds later he was content that the ammo wouldn’t
behave differently than the practice rounds. He looked over the rest of the
crew. Billy had some holes in the bullseye, others outside the rings
completely. Bing was being tutored by the instructor. Guo plugged away with a
slow rate of fire. Mitchie—“Where’d you get that gun?”

“I picked it out earlier. I can afford it, I’ve got some
savings.”

“You don’t need to buy your own, we’re getting weapons for
the crew.” Mitchie put down the one she’d been firing, picked up the pistol the
captain had picked, and pivoted her body away from the firing line so he could
see her hold on it. About a third of the grip stuck out below the edge of her
hand. “Right. Well, is that one working well for you? Never mind.” The target
for her lane had a tight cluster of marks in the center. The hologram had blue
and green spots indicating where two or three bullets had gone through the same
place. “I’ll add that one to the ship buy. Unless you really want it out of
pocket?”

Mitchie chuckled. “You’re not paying me that much, sir. It
can be issue gear.” She went back to firing the small pistol. Schwartzenberger
went off to find the salesman and argue him into applying the group discount to
the non-overstock gun.

Guo leaned over from his lane. “Were you a sniper or
something?” he asked her.

“It’s called real shooting, city boy. Rabbits don’t have
those three and four rings around them so you can say ‘I got close.’ You have
to actually hit them.”

“Arsenic Creek is not a ‘city.’” He put another round into
the four ring.

“If you see three houses at once my family calls it a city.”
She watched Guo’s next two shots. “Mind your breathing.”

“I know how to control my breathing.”

“Yeah, but you’re not doing it. You need to get the sights
and focus and breathing and trigger control all together. You’re only doing two
at a time.” The mechanic grunted. Mitchie coached him through a few more shots
until he regularly put them in the center ring. “Okay, now make sure you have
the sights absolutely straight on.” That shot went to the bottom edge of the
four ring. “See, you can’t just concentrate on one and forget the rest. Have to
do them all together. That’s how you keep those damn rabbits from stealing your
veggies.”

Guo laughed. “Right. I guess I’ll be coming back here a few
times.”

The captain called his crew meeting to an end. The weapons
were paid for but wouldn’t be delivered until the ship was out of yard hands.
The salesman explained how incredibly illegal it was to carry such primitive
weapons on the streets of Demeter and promised to have guards escort the
delivery. As the meeting broke up Guo said to Mitchie, “I’m fine with the slow
delivery. Having the guns here makes it easier for me to get more practice.”

“Go for it. The instructor’s pretty good, he can work with
you to get your form down.”

Before Guo could answer Billy butted in. “Hey, Mitchie, you
still want that tour of the club scene?”

“Sure! I’ll get back to the hall and change. Meet you there.”
She scampered out.

Billy turned to Guo. “You up for any dancing tonight?”

“No,” answered the mechanic, looking out the door, “I’m
going to a show.”

“Have fun then.”

***

Billy’s favorite dance club
was an easy walk from the spacers’ hall. Ahead of them some commotion disrupted
the flow of pedestrians. Mitchie hopped up on the back of a bench to get a
look. “Looks like a couple of cops arresting someone. Must be a big deal, there’s
some more following with evidence.”

“Damn. They’re going to tie
up this block for an hour. Let’s double back and take Magnolia there,” said
Billy.

“We’re in no rush. I’m
curious. Never seen Fusion cops in action before.” Mitchie didn’t stay to argue
her point. She had already wormed her way into the gathering crowd. Billy
muttered and trudged after her. By the time he caught up she had a front-row
view. The cops had cleared out a twenty-meter circle around their arrestee. He
looked nothing like the Disconnect’s thug class to Mitchie. This guy was well
fed and huddled into himself. The cops stacked a telepresence rig next to him.
Probably was a serious virtual reality gamer if he spent his whole citizen stipend
on that.

A senior cop walked up to
Billy. “Sir, you are requested to serve as a trial juror.”

“Um, sorry, sir, I’m a
non-resident.” Billy held out his spaceport pass. The cop nodded and turned to
Mitchie. She pulled out her pass. He moved on around the perimeter, eventually
ushering a dozen locals into a group near the edge of the circle. Flyers dropped
off officials and their gear.

“Hey, that’s a judge!” said
Mitchie, pointing at a black-robed woman who’d just arrived.

“Can’t have a speedy trial
without one,” replied Billy.

“Well, yeah, I’d read it, but
I’m just used to everyone coming to the courtroom.”

“HEY, GEETER, GEETER, THIS IS
YOUR FAULT!” The arrestee’s shout was followed by his lawyer’s call to the
cops. “Officer, I’m subpoenaing that man as a witness!” An on-looker was
escorted into the circle.

The judge called the boss cop
over for a chat, to Mitchie’s joy close enough for her to overhear. “What are
we waiting on?”

“Just the parents, your
honor. Should arrive in another seven minutes.”

“That’s fine. We’ll give them
ten minutes with him.”

A quarter-hour until the
start of the trial sounded like more reason to leave to Billy, but he wasn’t
bored enough to ditch his shipmate yet. Mitchie was fascinated. She’d sweet-talked
a local into identifying some of the players. “That one’s a network security
analyst. Probably third trial for him this year. Prosecutor always uses him.”

Once the trial started it
went by too fast for Mitchie to follow even with her new friend’s help. Apparently
the young man had added unlicensed processors to his computer to win at a team
game. He’d blamed Geeter for suggesting it but the jury accepted the witness’s claim
he’d intended “You’ll only be on top with a breaker rig” as a joke. To avoid
being forced out of the game for cheating he’d diddled the network monitoring
of his system, which was the real crime.

Witnesses went back and
forth. The defendant’s lawyer talked more than his witnesses did. Heavy
emphasis on youth and lack of actual harm. The prosecutor pulled up a school
transcript proving the guy’d passed a test on the applicable law. That provoked
enough mutters from the crowd for the judge to warn them she’d set up a sound
barrier if it kept up. The jury kept its debate short before returning a
unanimous guilty.

The judge had the defendant
brought before her. “Jerome Bessem, you have been found guilty of endangering
our society. By your knowing actions you have provided a garden that a random
weed could sprout in. Such weeds ruined the home of our race. We must all stand
watch and make sure that no places are left for such, because, as probes
falling from the sky or corruption in our own software, they seek places they can
grow. And growing, they will ruin our world and our lives as they ruined Earth
and the lives of all who lived there. We must watch to be safe. You hid a safe
place for an AI from our watching. You endangered our entire world. You must
now pay the penalty for your crime, that by your example others will know to
not follow your path. I grant you ten minutes for your farewells.”