Chapter SEVEN
Arms folded across his chest, Brad half-listenedto Hodak reeling off status from screens that linedthe Raven's flaked, time-battered bridge.
The indicators in Brad's line-of-sight, at leastthose that still functioned, displayed erratic anduncertain status of systems and accessories in themain power plant, fluids pressure pumps, oxygengenerators and other vital gear. More than slightlyprecarious, according to the dials and blinkinglights, but the records would show that the ancientutility had been accepted at the spunnel gatewayin the void between the Asteroid Belt and Jupiter,despite its technical difficulties.
Sneaking into the tail end of a crowded convoy ofSlingshot-bound transports gave them the 'jump'they needed. The Neptune spunnel exit would dofine and provide a seemingly reasonable storyunder interrogation, if it came to that.
Stripped to her vitals, all but the simplestdecisions diverted from her computer, the Ravenreminded Brad of his old freighter when he firsttook her over. The Raven's maintenance recordsshowed that she had slipped to less than marginal.Hodak's expertise with duct tape and hand toolswould get credit for the successful escape.
Planet Pluto, in her ashen melancholy, lay deadahead. Sprawled across the frozen methane plaina couple of points to starboard Coldfield's lightsshimmered through its frost-crusted, barelytranslucent dome. Stretching away from thetwenty-kilometer-wide city, the mottled terrainspread in all directions, slashed by ravines andman-made, soil-fused excavations, roads andbridges. Mooring towers, launch and landing padsspotted the barren landscape across whichcrawled processions of utility tugs.
Near-space cargo and passenger shuttles andtaxis landed at and departed from pads adjacentpressurized air docks into the city. Deep-spacetransports and utilities rode high, immobilizedby fore-and-aft mag-beams at the pinnacles oftwo-hundred-meter mooring towers.
The Raven drifted closer. Brad noted the hardorange glow of energy packs encapsulated invehicles moving about on the dome and surroundingland surfaces. Adjusted magnification defined thevehicles as personnel carriers, flatbed trailers,dome fissure-fusers, and methane frost scrapers.Coldfield was a busy place.
Charon drifted into view from over the horizon asthe Raven nosed forward. Only Lamplight's domeand high-intensity flashers that pinpointed itslanding pads, gateways and walkways broke themoonlet's solid gray-green landscape. Further out,the logistics depot slid slowly across the sky likea glowing green-and-orange sausage.
Zolan keyed a signal to Pluto Traffic Controlas the Raven crossed the line into the planet'sjurisdiction. He added the ship's name and callsign. Several minutes passed without response.Zolan leaned back from the console and winked atBrad. News of their presence had preceded themand the locals were likely wondering why had theship appeared in their skies.
The receiver squawked, "Raven. Stand by for escort."
A yellow-and-green-striped space tug driftedalongside and flashed its 'Follow Me' signal. Bradnodded at Zolan who acknowledged the tug'sinstruction. Adari trimmed the Raven's controlsand clamped a mag beam on the tug. She and thetug driver exchanged salutations and prattlednavigational details as the escort moved off withthe Raven following like an elephant leashed to aflea. Adari logged their destination: Slot 09 alongColdfield marker 13K.
Their passage was slow. Despite the heavy trafficof tugs, taxis, and other small craft the laneswere orderly and the flow steady. Traffic thinnedas the ship drifted across surface-parked lots forsmall vessels and disappeared entirely as the Ravenclosed on its mooring towers.
The escort rattled off the coordinates and theRaven fixed her position. Adari released themag-beam. The tug slipped around to starboardand mag-nosed the clumsy vessel into its slot. Acommand from the tug and mooring beams glowedat the fore-and-aft towers to immobilize the Raven.Adari and the tug driver exchanged rough civilitiesand the escort was up and away.
"Lock down, fore and aft," Brad intoned. "Safetycheck mooring beams and vital connections. Secureall internal hatches and passages. Set environmentcontrols at minimal levels for an indefinite stay.Report."
He keyed the order into the log, added the timeof entry, and keyed the record closed using hissuspended Space Master's code.
Myra assembled records required by port officials.Hodak and Adari consulted checklists as theytrooped from one compartment to the next; Hodakopened and closed switches, turned wheels andsecured and sealed valves as Adari observed andverified. She surveyed each station, mumbled,"confirmed," and initialed the appropriate itemson her copy of the checklist.
Zolan closed down the deep space communicationssystem and inspected their suit's intercoms. Kumikodrew six handguns from a rack, checked firingcontrols and charges, and fitted the weapons tosuits.
Zolan called for a taxi.
##
"Lock-sealing the effective range on personalweapons is the first order of business for allnewcomers."
The officious clerk in the Port Registration Officewas skinny, short, stooped and sallow; and hesquinted as if he had just emerged from darknessinto glare. The deep wrinkles around his mouthtwitched from cast-iron grin to scowl and back ashe pointed from Brad's holster to the waist-highcounter that separated them.
Brad drew his sidearm, checked the safety andset it on the counter. His companions followedsuit. The clerk hefted each weapon in turn,double-checked the safety, and positioned itunder a penetray scanner to check for illegalmodifications and, using a hand-held standard,reset the range to Coldfield's limits.
"Five meters, max," he said as he worked, "andminimum-effect level at all times. Set it any wayyou want when you leave the dome, but reset it assoon as you come back in. We do the first one forthe record; after that it's up to you. Penalty forviolation depends on circumstances; minimum isa couple of sleeps in the brig."
He peered at them across the counter.
"We know who you are and where you came from,"he said. "Keep out of trouble and you'll get by OK."
As he finished each weapon inspection he returnedit to the countertop, pointing the muzzle intoa shielded enclosure and stepped back behind abarrier. The owner picked up the sidearm, recheckedthe safety and the setting, and slipped it back intoits sheath.
"Hope you were listening when I said we knowwho you are," said the clerk, scowling, lookingfrom one to the other. "If you didn't hear methe first time, I'll repeat it: keep out of troubleand you'll get by OK. Y'hear?"
Brad scowled back, silent. Hodak grinned; Myra andKumiko nodded and vigorously pointed at themselves.
"I hate trouble," Myra said with solemn sincerity.
"Me too," Kumiko chimed in. "I hate trouble.I really do."
Adari laughed, leaned over the counter, andrumpled the little man's scant hair. He jerked away.
"Wouldn't think of it, Buster," she boomed.
She drew her hand back, looked at the palm,and rubbed it on her suit as she turned away.Zolan ignored the scene.
Hodak leaned over the counter and waved the clerkcloser.
"So you know where we're from, do you?" His voicewas a friendly growl and he got a curt nod in reply.
"Then you know we came here for sanctuary,"Hodak said. "How do we get it?"
"Your entry permit is provisional; permanent partystatus depends on how you adjust to our rules."
"This is the only place left to us," Hodak addeda whine to his voice. "We're not about to starttrouble and wear out our welcome." Switching toa hoarse whisper, he added, "Look, man, we needa place to put our stuff, and then we want to lookaround. Maybe we can find action in our kind ofwork that'll build up our credits. We've talked itover." He thumbed to include his companions."We're available, and we can't afford to be choosy.The Inner Region doesn't mean a thing to us. Knowwhat I mean?"
"Sure."
The clerk repeated his grin-scowl, snickered, andslapped Hodak on the shoulder.
"What's the word on living accommodations underthe dome?" Adari cut in.
"Gotta register for permanent quarters, and you'llneed a permit to build a place of you
r own. They'realmost impossible to get. Try for 'temporary' untilyou know your way around. Good place to start isthe Condor over on Con-man Slash."
"How do we get there?" Kumiko asked.
"Taxi to dome air lock 22," he replied. "Inside,take the second transit strip. The off-ramps areSmuggler's Alley, Faithhealer's Spread, PlunderCove, Bunco Crawl, and then Con-Man Slash.It's in the center of town; you can't miss it."He waved them toward the air lock. "On your way,folks; you're cleared."
He watched them suit up and enter the air lock.When he heard the whisper of the outer door, helifted a comm device, pressed buttons and spokehurriedly.