Chapter THIRTEEN
The black skies and drab mounds of Planet Plutowere spotted with color. From where he stood onDrummer's enclosed patio, Brad looked throughthe transparent shields at ice-gray Charon lowover scarred ridges to the west. Shifting hiseyes slightly brought into focus the panorama ofColdfield's dome and its multi-colored lights. Theorange-green cylinder of the Slingshot LogisticsDepot gleamed in the black sky.
The Fandango force field around the depotshimmered. A wide gap separated the transportsloading and unloading at the portals inside theforce field from those outside waiting in lineor in clustered formations until moorings insidebecame available.
The short taxi ride from Coldfield had beenuneventful. The formalities of introductions behindthem, the host and his guests had refreshedthemselves, dined and rested.
Drummer joined Brad and followed his gaze to theorange-green cylinder and its gaggle of transportsand tugs. The silence was brief.
Drummer said, "I've had your ship searched."
Brad shrugged, eyes scanning the scene outside, andreplied dryly, "Hope it was worth your while. To us,it was transportation. Any old tub would have done.As it turned out, we were lucky."
"I'll accept that it's an 'old tub'. I gathered asmuch from the reports I received," Drummer said,"but I understand the primary systems are in goodcondition, considering the vessel's history and thespunnel shocks the ship must have experienced onthe way. How does it all fit together?"
"How does it concern you?" Brad turned to faceDrummer.
"Come, now." Drummer shook his head impatiently."Let's not act naive; it doesn't go with the restof you. But," he added waving his finger at Bradas he turned away, "just so you don't make a habitof responding to my questions with diversions, beaware that I am a member of President Narval'sCouncil of Advisors. Despite the incident withScarf, I have considerable authority and resourcesat my command.
"I've checked through my confidential sources inthe Inner Region," he went on, "and confirmed youare all convicted criminals that escaped from aGuardian Station prison. Now, for starters, howdid you manage to get a lift by spunnel and make itthis far without tearing that old wreck apart? Thosevessels don't have navigational gear for trips tothe rim, nor do they carry the required gear andsupplies. Straight answer."
"We're spacers," Brad said. "One of us is anexperienced maintenance engineer. Another isa space navigator. We've all knocked about thespace-ways a bit on assorted jobs. I was Captain ofa freighter before the Space Guard and the TransportBoard took my ship away from me on trumped upcharges, and then sent me up for five years ofrehab. We teamed up on the Guardian Station, workedout the details, kept our noses clean and our eyesopen, and, when the chance came, grabbed it. We didhave a few breakdowns, but we kept her moving alonguntil we could attach the ship to a convoy throughthe spunnel. We took our chances and made it."
Drummer shook his head. A muscle twitched in hisjaw.
"The reports I received identified your formerprofessions and gave me the rest of your personalhistories. Frankly, it has me wondering: a ship'scaptain, paramedic-logistics type, a maintenanceengineer, communications specialist, navigator, anda weapons technician. Wasn't it odd to have thesespecial skills fall into place?"
"Not really," Brad countered. "I could have made upany kind of crew I wanted. The station has lots ofspacers under lock and key. These folks happenedto fit in with my plans, and they were as anxiousto get out as I was. It worked. Now, what's theproblem?"
"The problem," Drummer replied, "is that ahalf-dozen escaped convicts with exceptional spaceskills make it to Planet Pluto; that one of themdefends a high level official in a tavern brawl,making for himself a mortal enemy of theirsanctuary's chief security officer. To cap it, theescaped convicts are now guests in the home of theofficial that they defended in the bar-room scrapewho, I might add, also happens to be a member ofthe President's Council. See the problem?"
"Crank this in," Brad remarked, "the citizen, whoconsiders himself a high government official,moves about without a bodyguard thus invitingconfrontations. Also, his attacker's arrival at thebar-room couldn't possibly have been predicted, letalone his drunken behavior and my colleague and Ihappening to be there. Add who it was that took theinitiative for departure from the tavern, and thatit was the high government official that invitedthe escaped convicts to his home. He wasn'tthreatened or coerced into extending hishospitality."
Drummer grinned, nodded. "You ordered Hodakto intervene. Why?"
"First, tell me more about Scarf."
Drummer shrugged.
"He's been with Narval since the beginning of theregime. Did, and still does, most of the dirty workthat keeps any government in power, and he'sbetter at it than most. He has a special hatredfor dissidents to Narval's policies and usesspies, informers and killers to infiltrate theirorganizations and tear them apart. By the way,he also had your ship searched. Watch out forhim. Now, my question."
"When Scarf began to hassle you, I had no idea ofhis identity or position. His words and actions inthe bar-room gave me an impression that, if wegot you out of that mess, you might reciprocateby helping us to get permission to remain onthe planet, and maybe steer us to jobs. It wasa chance. Now, as to your problem with us:is it insurmountable?"
Drummer studied Brad's face, trying to read histhoughts. "Not really, insofar as getting you andyour friends temporary resident status," he said."Scarf will not be easy with you and your friends,especially my rescuer, Hodak. I'll talk to myassociates. The skills you have might be usefulto us. Since you're a former ship's captain, I'llconsider you spokesman for your colleagues."