PART 7
Terra: The AECO Starport
"RUN, DAMMIT!"
"Can't--<huff>--keep up!"
"Come ON! We're DEAD if we slow down now!"
The running footsteps echoed in the long tunnel, splashing water in
the dim light from the coldlamps hanging in the air like a mist of silver.
Faint and far away, a strange sound was heard for the barest instant, like a
sudden roll of thunder.
<whoom>
"What was THAT, f'Godsakes?!"
"I dunno! RUN!"
There was a splash and a curse, as a body went sprawling in the
water. In a final disgusting indignity, the puddle was sticky and warm to
the touch....the sound reverberated in the tunnel again, louder this time.
<Whooom>
"Get UP, damn yer ass!"
"What the hell IS that!"
"Who cares! RUN!"
Echoing footsteps, light after light passing by overhead in an
endless stream. Again, the sound. And again, louder still.
<WHOOOOM>
"THERE!" Grant skidded to a stop, nearly bowled over from behind
by the others. He pointed at a dim shadow, barely visible on the ceiling
in the darkness between the ill-spaced lights.
"Access hatch," he panted. "Kherk! Footstool!"
The huge Vargr hunched down in the corridor, and Sanchez scrambled
onto his back. Fell and Jaeger steadied his legs as he reached up above his
head and began to work at the lock....
<WHOOOOMMMM!>
"What the hell is that NOISE?!" Fell threw a glance over his
shoulder. "It keeps getting louder...."
Jaeger stiffened suddenly. "Oh, no," he muttered. "They wouldn't.
Not even the SOLOMANI would stoop that low!" He shuddered quietly to himself.
"What? WHAT?!"
"They're blasting the tunnels in sequence with live steam from the
main fusion plant," Jaeger gritted. "They mean to boil us alive."
"Hey, HOLD STILL!" Sanchez teetered for a dangerous moment, then
recovered himself. "Trying to WORK up here!"
<WHOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!>
"Sorry," Kherkhoulloth muttered, trying to still his shivering.
"Boiled alive," he whispered softly.
"Straight out of a Fleming novel," Jaeger sighed. "What a positively
TACKY way to die...."
"Tacky." Fell seemed to be desperately trying not to laugh. Or maybe
scream.... "Tacky." He sighed. "Well, SORRY, Jaeger. These things--"
<WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!!>
"--happen."
"I FELT that one." Grant touched the curving wall. "In the rock...."
"GOT IT!" Kherkhoulloth rolled to the side as the access valve
clanged open and Sanchez rode the retractable ladder from the open access
tube down to the floor. He swarmed up the ladder again, panting, "Gotta get
the upper hatch, now...."
"Go! Don't wait for him! GO!" Grant hustled Fell and Jaeger up the
ladder after Sanchez.
"You next, chief," Kherkhoulloth rumbled. "I can take the heat on my
fur better than you can."
"Kherk--" Grant was cut off by the rumbling roar of steam, deafening
now. Chips of plaster fluttered down from the ceiling.
"That one was right next door, we're NEXT! Don't argue!"
Grant went up the ladder, three rungs at a time. Kherkhoulloth
hurried after him, pausing in the narrow hatchway to reach down and begin
hauling the ladder back up. Three pulls, four....
The ladder jammed.
Growling angrily, Kherkhoulloth reached down out of the access hatch
and grabbed the ladder's lowest rung. In doing so, he had to poke his muzzle
and head back down into the corridor. "I must look like an idiot," he
snarled. Upside down in a narrow tube, hauling on a stuck--
His eyes widened. A boiling wall of flame was hurtling down the
tunnel toward him. The crash and roar was earsplitting. With a howl of sheer
terror, Kherkoulloth let go of the ladder and grabbed the hatch, hauling
upward with all his might. It hit the ladder with a clang, jarring it loose,
and slammed shut just as the dim tunnel suddenly turned hellishly bright....
Kherkoulloth wasn't brave, but Tsogukh was. And if there was one
thing an Urzaeng Vargr did well, it was enduring pain stoically. He hung
upside down for a long minute, muscles straining against the slipstream that
was trying to haul the hatch open and suck him into the boiling maelstrom
below, gritting his teeth and whimpering softly as the hatch handle grew
warm, then hot, then scalding....
And then it was over. There was only quiet below him. Gently he
turned the hatch handle a half turn, hissing as the skin peeled away from
his hand. Gingerly he let it go. It held.
He resisted the urge to faint, forced himself around in the narrow
tube, and began to climb the ladder, hind legs slipping on the rungs, burned
hand clutched to his chest. There was light above him, and a breeze....
And then they were hauling him out of the vent shaft and easing him
down onto the hard concrete floor. "You okay, buddy?"
"I burned my hand," Kherkhoulloth whimpered. "See?" He held the
wounded hand up for the others to inspect.
Fell whistled as he gently turned the Vargr's hand from side to side.
"Second-degree burns for sure," he said. "You got pretty cooked, furball."
He grinned. "But compared to us ALL getting parboiled, I'd say that was a
pretty good tradeoff."
"You would." Kherkhoulloth began licking the wounded hand gingerly.
"Where are we, anyway?" Fell looked about him with interest. The
wall in which the access tube was set was an interior one, and the ceiling
was high and dimly lit in the stifling heat. The tube opening was well hidden
behind piles of crates, grouped to allow easy access with grav lifters.
"Storehouse for offshipped items, I'd guess," Jaeger ventured,
examining a crate's shipping label. "Pah," he muttered disgustedly. "All
computer coded. Nothing to read. Why didn't we keep Hector with us?"
"Because they know we have him," Sanchez sighed. "He can travel
faster on his own, and meet us when we get the hell out of here." He fumbled
through the pouch at his waist. "Nope, no code reader," he shrugged. "I guess
the guy I slugged wasn't a stevedore...."
His voice trailed off at the sound of whistling. Someone was coming
down one of the aisles.
Jaeger smiled wickedly. "Methinks I have an idea, gentlesophonts."
"Ah, 'scuse me a moment!"
The Transshipment Inspector turned around at the unfamiliar voice.
He saw a somewhat unkempt man in a TI uniform striding toward him across the
cargo dock. The new arrival was obviously a senior bureaucrat of some kind,
the Inspector thought with an inward sigh. He carried himself with that
certain air of arrogance that officials in positions of power tend to
develop, and he was having a terrible time staying out from under the cargo
haulers as they rapidly unloaded crates from the AECO monorail cars.
The Inspector saluted smartly. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I'm ah, really sorry to disturb you, Mister," the bureaucrat said
in an gravelly snarl, "But my partner and I--" He flicked a thumb over his
shoulder at another man in a TI uniform, poking about the crates with a code
reader, "--are looking for a mixup in the AECO shipping register for this
run." He leaned closer to the Inspector. "Probably nothing, but YOU know what
it's like dealing with The New Boss, right?"
The Inspector's carefully neutral look faded to a small frown. "Watch
what you're saying, friend," he said mildly. "You KNOW they could be
monitoring us, right?"
"Yah, sure," the official grinned, shrugging. "But who cares?" He
bellowed at the ceiling, "IF THEY'D LET US DO OUR JOBS!" --his voice returned
to its previous growl. "--We'd have a lot less to worry about."
The Inspector gulped audibly.
"Here's the problem," the official said, handing a codesheet to the
Inspector. "There's been a shipment of carbon film, YOU know, for fusion
cleanup crews, that's gotten mixed up with a shipment of CARTON film, the
stuff you wrap around piles of crates to keep'em on the dolly, you know?"
He gave the Inpsector a playful dig in the shoulder. "Simple mixup with the
parser, probably, but you can't be sure, so me and the guy in Moscow are
busy trying to make sure the right shipment went to the right place, see?"
"Ah." The Inspector nodded, and retrieved a code probe from his shirt
pocket. He ran the probe over the sheet. "Hmm. That'd be over here, in the
stuff I haven't inspected yet." He pointed down the tube toward the tail of
the monorail. "I'm not supposed to skip over any part of the shipment, but
this doesn't look like it'll take more than a minute...."
"Great. I appreciate it. I'll mention how helpful you were to your
supervisor...." The official wandered down the bustling dock beside the
Inspector. Behind him, his partner walked quickly up to a pile of crates
that was being readied for inspection by a stevedore in a cargo lifter,
and cleared his throat loudly.
"Yah? So whatchawant?" The stevedore leaned out of the lifter's cab,
chewing on a narco and looking over the official doubtfully.
"We could use a hand with a quick inspection check, friend," the
official said mildly. "My partner over there is with your supervisor,
preparing to crosscheck codes on a shipment that may have been misdirected.
Would you mind giving them a hand?"
"I got crates ta move," the stevedore said surlily.
"Very well," the official shrugged. "I shall find someone more
willing to help his superiors when a crisis arises." He turned away.
"Waitaminnit!" The stevedore spat out his narco and gunned the
lifter. "I'm goin', I'm goin'. Sheez! Humpin' bureaucrats...."
The second official watched him go, a small smile on his lips. He
nonchalantly reached down to the customs tag on one of the crates the
stevedore had been about to lift and stack, and yanked it off with a snap.
"Go," he whispered.
The lid of the crate opened, and Grant, Kherkhoulloth, and Sanchez
staggered out clumsily. "What a ride," Sanchez managed, as he and the others
slumped down behind a stack of crates, out of sight of the stevedore. Quickly
the official attached a new tag to the crate, and looked up nonchalantly as
his partner returned with the Inspector.
"Well?"
"All clear," was the reply. "Damn stevedore had the crate we wanted
on the bottom of the stack, but I was able to do a spot check by lot number.
Looks like the parser did okay, so they're NOT gonna get carton film at the
Moscow Power Authority!"
The Inspector chuckled. "Thank heavens for that. All we'd need was
another scandal for the monit--" His mouth snapped shut. "You know," he
mumbled lamely.
"Uh-huh," the first official said soothingly. "Thanks for
everything." He and his partner walked smartly away toward the exit. The
Inspector watched them go, shaking his head. Then he returned his attention
to the crates....
"I never never NEVER wanna do that again," Kherkhoulloth muttered
as the group, mingling with the crowds, made its way out into the glaring
sun. "What a RIDE! Even WITHOUT Sanchez throwing up."
"That's unnecessary," Sanchez snapped uncharacteristically. "When
one has been (a) interrogated (b) starved (c) subjected to severe physical
and emotional--" He stopped. "Whoops," he smiled sheepishly. "Seems like
there's still a little Newton left rattling around in here." He clapped a
palm to an ear several times, as if knocking water from the other ear.
"Well, of COURSE there is," Fell said irritably as he stuffed the
official's uniform into a trash bin. "He's mostly YOU, isn't he? Just a
set of fake memories and habits spliced onto your old training. Like
Tchorgin, or Newton, or...."
His voice changed tone suddenly. "AL-JEET!" He began pushing to the
edge of the air/raft ramp, waving. The others followed him, mystified.
"Aljeet?" Sanchez scratched his head. "What does--"
A battered, rattling old air/raft swerved out of the neat lines
of vehicles at the monorail station entry, nearly causing a number of
accidents. Other drivers leaned out of their cabs and shook their fists
at the cab as its gull-wing doors swung upward to admit the party.
"HEEYIKE!" Kherkhoulloth yanked the door shut behind him with his
good hand as the raft rocketed upward, heeling over on one side like a
starfighter. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!"
Fell rattled off a few quick words in Arabic to the driver, who
grinned through rotten teeth, sang, "Kham, effendi!" and sent the raft
shooting across the desert toward the distant towers of Cairo.
"Do ALL taxi drivers in Egypt go hell bent for leather like this?"
Grant frantically struggled with his seat restraints, trying to strap
himself in as the raft lurched and stalled, dropping a hundred meters
before it recovered its lift.
"Of course not, Captain," Fell grinned. "Only the ones who take
inordinate risks delivering passengers without allowing them to be picked
up by SolSec monitors-- at a price, of course." The driver nodded, grinning.
"But how could he--ah!" Jaeger nodded understanding. "A code word!"
"Al-Jitni," Fell nodded. "Jitney. Unregistered hired transport."
He spoke a few more words to the driver, who nodded, his dark face suddenly
serious. The raft swooped downward to one of the Cairo arcology towers, its
vast expanse of terraces and windows looming huge before them.
"Are we gonna HIT?" Sanchez looked ready to vomit again.
"Be ready to bail out," Fell barked, popping his seat restraints.
"I don't care WHAT your supervisor says," the young woman sobbed
tearfully as she blew her nose on her napkin. "It's our ANNIVERSARY! You
can't just go packing off to, to," She blew her nose with a honk, "To
CLEVELAND for a week!"
"Sweetheart," her husband sighed, pouring another cup of coffee,
"If I thought I could ask for a delay, I WOULD have! But I just don't know
if he'd let me get away with it. If I had some sort of sign--"
His voice was cut off by a shrill scream from his wife. Like a
breaching whale, a creaking old air/raft had risen to the level of their
balcony, close enough to touch.
It unceremoniously tilted to one side, a door opening and dumping
an odd assortment of people onto the balcony next to the tea table. Four
humans and a Vargr. A HUGE Vargr, at that.
"Beg pardon." A tall, sharp-faced man tipped an imaginary hat to
the couple as he made his way inside. The portly fellow in the lead didn't
even speak to them.
"Sorry about this," said the pale blonde man as he ushered the Vargr
through the door.
"We really must drop in again," said the foppish-looking youngster
who was last through the door. The husband leaped to his feet and charged
after them, but they had already gone out the front door of the apartment.
He turned around and looked at his wife, who was staring in shock at
the rapidly-fading outline of the air/raft as it streaked toward the horizon,
three SolSec speeders in hot pursuit.
"I'll call my supervisor," he whispered. "Now."
TO BE CONTINUED