Drifter's War (2 page)

"Come on, honey… it's time to leave."

They made good time up the path, encountering little more than a robo-sweeper and a tired-looking jogger.

They arrived at the lodge a few minutes later. It was a large sprawling affair, all logs and pseudo-thatch, and much more substantial than it looked. There was a lot of carefully tended lawn, some artfully placed fish ponds, and paths covered with white gravel.

There were plenty of people about, guests mostly, with a scattering of staff. None looked like bounty hunters, but it pays to be careful, so Lando stayed out of sight. He pulled on Melissa's hand.

"Let's circle around to the causeway. That's where the vehicles are."

In an attempt to preserve the property's unspoiled beauty, both guest and commercial vehicles alike had been banned from the island, and restricted to a mainland parking lot. A single causeway linked the two.

They followed the pathway around the perimeter of the lodge to the point where it joined a much wider walkway out onto the wooden bridge.

As was usual for that time of day there were a number of guests leaving the lodge, heavily laden robo-carts trundling along behind them, their vacations complete. An equal number of people had just arrived. Lando gave thanks for the crowd.

Many of them smiled at the cute little girl, nodded at the man they assumed was her father, and continued on their way.

Lando gave a sigh of relief. The Pik Lando story hadn't received much play yet.

The causeway was slightly arched in the middle and Lando used the additional height to look at the other side. What he saw didn't look good and must have shown on his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Lando produced what he hoped was a smile. "We've got company. The bad kind. Enjoy the view while I take another look around."

The smuggler looked again. His second glance confirmed the first. A group of men and women were gathered at the far end of the bridge. A lively discussion was under way. There was plenty of arm waving, foot stomping, and faintly heard invective.

Half the people wore Rothmonian uniforms, while the rest were dressed in a wild assortment of armor, leather, and weaponry. Bounty hunters. Trying to gain entry but running afoul of the resort's security forces.

Bounty hunters were a strange breed, part cop and part parasite; they clung to the empire like remoras to a shark, eating scraps too small for their host to bother with.

Rather than pay for an interstellar police force, and tax his citizens accordingly, the first Emperor had decided to rely on bounty hunters instead.

It was an easy business to get into. All the perspective bounty hunter needed was a gun, a certain amount of luck, and access to a public terminal. The list was miles long. Names, crimes, histories, weapons, known associates, all of it was all there.

It was a simple matter to scroll through the names, choose a fugitive, buy a license, and go after them. Simple, and more often than not extremely dangerous. Which accounted for the fact that very few bounty hunters lived long enough to retire.

Lando swore silently and turned in the other direction. Something hard and heavy rode the pit of his stomach. Why so many? The bounty on his head was relatively small compared to many others.

Lando knew the answer, or thought he did. The bounty hunters were after him all right, but they were after something else as well, the drifter itself. The artifact was worth millions of credits, and he knew where it was.

And that implied something more: Wherever Cap was, and whatever he'd said, the location of the ship was still a secret.

Melissa looked up at Lando. "Where are we going now?"

"The boat dock," Lando replied, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

"Does that mean we're going to steal a boat?"

"Only if we aren't able to charter or rent one."

"Oh."

It took them about five minutes to reach the marina. It sat huddled within the embrace of a man-made breakwater. The water was aqua-blue, crystal-clear, and extremely calm. Jet skis zipped this way and that, poorly piloted sailing dinghies drifted aimlessly along the breakwater, and an airboat made its way out through the harbor's entrance.

When it was clear of the harbor the boat fired its repellors, vanished inside a cloud of steam, and reappeared moments later. Drives howled as it blasted upward.

There were two docks, one for the boating crowd who owned their own yachts, and one for the guests who wished to rent. A section of pseudo-thatched roof sat on some posts about halfway out. There was a sign that said "Rentals," and an attendant sitting on a stool.

Lando's heart sank. The rental dock was nearly empty. It was late afternoon, and most of the hovercraft, sea sleds, and water walkers were already in use.

But there, way out toward the end of the dock, sat a sleek-looking craft that mounted an aerodynamically shaped mast and what looked like an aircraft wing. A skimmer. Not his first choice, but better than nothing at all.

"Come on."

Lando sauntered out onto the dock and Melissa followed along behind. She looked over the edge, watched her reflection in the water, and waved to see herself wave back.

The rental shack didn't have any walls, but the roof provided some protection from the sun, and the attendant had centered himself in the middle of the shade.

What hair he had was white and cut so short that it fuzzed the sides of his head. He wore a grease-stained yachting hat, a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and a perpetual frown. When Lando smiled the frown became even more pronounced.

"Yeah?"

"I'm interested in renting a boat."

"Don't have any. Come back tomorrow."

Lando raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the end of the dock. "What about that one?"

"It ain't for rent. Belongs to the manager, Mr. Izzo. Come back tomorrow."

Lando started to say something in reply but felt Melissa tug on his sleeve. She pulled him away. He frowned. "What?"

Melissa pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. "Are we going to steal it?"

Lando glanced at the attendant. He pretended they weren't there.

"Yeah, I think so."

Melissa nodded in agreement. "Right. I'll distract him while you take the boat."

Lando thought about it. There was a comset about four inches away from the attendant's right elbow. A call would bring security on the run. Some sort of diversion would be a good idea.

"Okay, but come when I yell."

Melissa smiled mischievously. "Don't worry about me."

This was the adult Melissa. The same one who could run her father's business affairs, and, if push came to shove, fly a shuttle to boot.

Lando nodded, smiled at the old man, and strolled out toward the end of the dock.

The skimmer looked strange. It had a long pencil-thin hull. The winglike structure crossed the top of the mast like a giant T, slanted down to touch the water off the boat's port side, and bobbed up and down with the waves.

The canopy-covered cockpit was located just forward of the mast and looked large enough to accommodate four people.

As the smuggler came closer he saw that foils had been mounted on each end of the wing, one of which rested in the water, while the other hung suspended in the air. The leading edge of the wing had slats while the trailing edge was equipped with flaps.

The wing design gave Lando a pretty good idea of how the skimmer worked. The wing acted as a sail, providing a surface for the wind to push against, but adding something more as well. Air would pass over the down-slanting wing to create forward suction and provide lift at the same time. The result was a wind-powered craft that could achieve speeds of sixty or seventy miles an hour.

Though not a fan, Lando had seen skimmer races on the vid nets, and knew the ships could really move. Just the thing for an ocean-going getaway.
If
they could get the skimmer out to sea.
If
they could lose the pursuit. And
if
he could keep the damned thing under control.

Those were a lot of ifs but the smuggler had very little choice. He started to step aboard, thought better of it, and turned toward Melissa.

She made a sound designed to attract the old man's attention, teetered on the edge of the dock, and fell into the water with a big splash.

Lando was concerned at first. Melissa's swimming skills were little more than so-so and she was screaming her head off.

Then Lando noticed that Ralph was propped up against a post, dry as could be, and well out of harm's way. Melissa knew exactly what she was doing.

The attendant moved with surprising speed. Within seconds he had a long boat hook and had extended it toward Melissa.

Lando stepped aboard, touched a button, and smiled as the canopy whirred open. He stepped down into an oval-shaped observation-control area. The control position was toward the rear. It had airplane-type controls with a stick instead of a wheel.

Lando dropped into the captain's chair and watched the U-shaped screen light up. There were no security codes or anything. After all, why bother with an attendant looking on?

Words appeared. "Welcome aboard the
Nadia.
Keyboard or voice?"

Lando thought about that one. He had a general preference for keyboards, but that was aboard spaceships, where he knew what he was doing. In this case voice would be faster and therefore safer.

He said it aloud. "Voice please."

"Aye, aye, sir," a salty-sounding voice replied. "And where are we bound?"

Lando thought for a moment. He knew very little about the planet's geography, but remembered that a seaport called Norton was relatively close to Brisco City. And Brisco City was where they had left Cap and Della Dee.

"Our destination is Norton."

"And Norton it is, sir," the computer replied cheerfully. "The course is loaded and ready ta go. Begging your pardon, sir, and not wishing ta speak out of turn, but should we load more supplies? Our supply of wine is running low, especially the Cathcart '75, and we're almost out of goose liver pâté."

Lando smiled. Mr. Izzo had expensive tastes. "No, that won't be necessary. We have enough food and water for two?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. I will bring my companion aboard and cast off."

"Aye, aye, sir. Auxiliary power, sir?"

Lando imagined trying to maneuver the skimmer out on wind power alone. Talk about disasters. "Yes, please."

Lando stepped up and out of the cockpit. The sun had disappeared. Some raindrops hit his face. They felt warm.

Melissa was still thrashing around in the water. The attendant yelled for her to grab his boat hook. She ignored him. Lando waved his arms.

Melissa saw him, waved in response, and grabbed the boat hook with both hands. She gave it a vigorous jerk. The attendant tumbled in headfirst. There was a tremendous splash.

Lando watched to make sure that the man could swim, saw Melissa pull herself up and out of the water, and laughed as she retrieved Ralph from his resting place.

The rain had just started to make dark circles on the sun-bleached wood as Melissa scampered down the dock. Her eyes danced with excitement as she ran toward the skimmer. She jumped and Lando caught her.

"How did I do?"

Lando had to shout against the rush of the rain. It splattered around him and drummed against the skimmer's composite hull. "You were great! Now get below and find a towel!"

Lando cast off the bowline first, gave the dock a healthy shove with his foot, and ran toward the stern. The stern line splashed as it hit the water.

Then the smuggler realized that it was supposed to work the other way around, that the lines should stay aboard the skimmer, but by then it was too late. The gap between the dock and the boat had widened and the on-board computer had activated the auxiliary power unit. The wake foamed white as the
Nadia
headed away from the dock.

The rain fell even harder now, drenching Lando to the skin and churning the surface of the bay. The attendant was out of water now, comset in hand, pointing toward Lando and talking in an animated fashion.

The rain fell in sheets. The robo-sentries were skeletal figures only dimly seen. They stalked down across manicured lawns, ignored the dock, and headed out along the top of the breakwater.

Lando looked out toward the ocean. The entranceway was half a mile ahead. If the robo-sentries got there first they could grab the skimmer or, failing that, blow it out of the water. He dropped into the cockpit.

"I want full speed ahead."

"Aye, aye, sir, " the computer replied. "Full speed it is." The skimmer surged forward. Lando bit the inside of his cheek. The race was on, and the outcome would be extremely close.

2

Della Dee pushed the door open and stepped inside. A neon nude ran the length of the opposite wall. Pink nipples flashed on and off. They stopped as the door closed. Smoke hung in slowly drifting layers. One of Terra's most popular vocalists moaned seductively in the background, her voice distorted by the bar's cheap sound system.

Dee's boots made a clacking sound as she approached the bar, selected a stool, and sat down. It was early yet, and while half the tables were occupied, Dee had the bar to herself. Every man in the room turned to stare.

Dee had bright green eyes, flawless skin, and a nice figure. She wore a white blouse under flat black body armor, skintight pants, and knee-high boots. The slug gun rode high and tight in a cross-draw holster. But it was the flaming red hair that drew their attention. It was and always had been both a blessing and a curse, attracting men like moths to a flame.

Dee looked too straight to be a whore, too hard to be a citizen on the prowl, and too good to be unattached. Long red fingernails made a clicking sound as they hit the bar.

The bartender looked, liked what he saw, and nodded. He had a bullet-shaped head, a wrestler's torso, and massive arms. He grabbed an aluminum cask, heaved it off the floor, and dropped it into a cradle. It hit with a distinct thud. The bartender smiled as he turned around.