Counterweight (13 page)

Rick nodded absently, watching the capsule slide out of the
elevator mechanism and glide over to a debarkation ramp.

“Hurry,” the guard urged, “or you’ll be stuck here for the
next two centi-days.”

A half hour seemed like a pretty fast cycle time but what
did Rick know about orbital tethers? He squeezed in with the other passengers
as the door slid down.

The capsule lurched to the side, moving toward the empty
elevator frame. Rick was pressed against the woman in front of him as the
compartment came to a stop. A few seconds later, a green light flashed on the
far wall and he felt heavier as the assembly began accelerating toward the
planet.

The docking chamber slid out of view and a series of panels
and beams flashed by. The view of open space came as a shock as they dropped
beneath the shield generator.

The planet looked massive, its graceful blue curve gradually
filling the entire view as they dropped. Rick’s lunch joined the fun, trying to
climb back up his throat.

Gravity in the capsule was a hot mess. As they reached the
midpoint, there was none at all and an automated voice advised them to
re-orient themselves, aligning their feet with the ceiling before they entered
the planets gravity well. They’d left the outward bound gravity caused by
centrifugal rotation and now they were about to feel the real thing.

He wondered why they didn’t use gravity compensators in the
capsule – or were they simply broken?

That was a thought he wished he hadn’t experienced. He
looked up at the ceiling. If the braking system failed, this would be a very unpleasant
ride. He started in alarm as they dropped past the surface of the water, much
to the amusement of a passenger who was, more or less, facing toward him. No
doubt a regular. His orbital control uniform probably entitled him to ride to
work for free.

Interior lights came on as they dropped below the oceans
surface and they began to slow as they descended the sheilded shaft. The
gravity of the capsule returned to normal and he craned his neck past his
fellow passengers in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the city. At first, all
he could see was a dim haze outside the windows but then he saw a line of
glowing panels, which he took to be glazed roof panels, stretching off into the
gloom.

He managed to contain his surprise as they dropped into the
entry port, though he did hear a few gasps and exclamations from the other
passengers. He looked back at the uniformed passenger and returned the grin he
saw aimed at him.

With a final, soft bounce, they came to a full halt and then
the capsule began to glide to the side. A synthesized voice, blaring from the
ceiling in court Dheema, advised them to debark quickly or face a hefty fine.

The door slid out of the way and there was a momentary pause
as those at the front gazed out uncertainly.

“C’mon, citizens,” the uniformed passenger called out in a
bored tone. “I don’t want to pay a fine just because I’m stuck behind you.”

An alarm began blaring from the ceiling, pulsing slowly and
in a low tone. It began to speed up and the tone jumped up a notch with each
pulse. It had the desired effect and Rick was carried along with the general
exodus. They passed out into a large entry hall.

It was split into two sides and, looking back over his
shoulder, he could see a little of the departure side. There was a line of passengers
waiting to board and they were watched by at least a dozen armed guards
patrolling a catwalk above.

A pair of guards moved along the line, scanning each
passenger’s hand before allowing them to move forward. Just as Rick began descending
the debarkation ramp, the guards pulled a young girl from the boarding line.

He lost sight of the scene as he followed the other
passengers. They flowed through a scanner and the press of his fellow
passengers was relieved as they entered an open area.

There were a few reunions for passengers. Some, like the
uniformed passengers, simply walked straight toward the main doors. Others,
newcomers, were stopping to listen to recruiters. The company running this
world seemed to have a constant need for new employees.

This seemed to be the point where those who had not managed
to learn of the exit cost were made aware of the horrendous mistake they had
just made.

Sharp comments betrayed the disbelief and anger of those who
were learning how foolish they’d been to assume the exit cost would be similar
to that of the entry. The only option for many would be to spend a few years
earning the price of their freedom.

Some would never leave here.

Rick put a hand against the cargo pouch on the front of his
EVA suit. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about being trapped here. He’d
look around for a few days but then he’d be getting back on the elevator and
moving on.

But first, he needed clothing.

Tsekoh, Capital of Chaco Benthic

“
P
ull
over here,” Graadt ordered. “Shove that cab out of the way if he doesn’t show
some sense.”

The Stoner’s carrier nudged the back of a black and yellow,
open-top cab. The driver turned to unleash an angry tirade but thought better
of it when he saw Kaans’ grinning face through the driver’s window of the
carrier. 

The last thing the cabbie wanted was to lose a week’s
earnings because of a broken leg and so he turned back to his controls and
abandoned his hard-earned pick-up spot. The colorful, open-top vehicle lurched
into motion, nearly getting hit by a runabout as the agitated driver made room
for the Stoners.

Graadt jumped across the closing gap and stopped to get a
better view of the commotion that had drawn his attention in the first place.
His two companions joined him on the platform.

“It’s one of those urchins,” Kaans volunteered, nodding at
the crowd in front of the training outlet. “Another ‘intellectual’ with no
prospects.”

“And the magisters are roughing up her parents,” Nid
growled. “Right in front of her. And they call
us
savages.”

“What do you expect from a race that clones their own kind?”
Graadt asked in the soft tone that warned his comrades of the anger boiling
just beneath the surface.

Unable to watch any longer, Graadt led his cronies through
the crowd and crossed the empty space that surrounded the hapless little family
and their four tormentors.

Graadt was eager to interrogate the parents of an
elevated
urchin.
The nickname was spreading quickly – a play on both the education
and the orbital elevator that nullified it. He was also more than willing to
get rough, but there were some things you just didn’t do and humiliating a
parent in front of their child was a line the Stoners wouldn’t cross.

He reached out, grabbing the back of a magister’s neck in
his large hand and gave it a squeeze. The other three turned at the undignified
squawk from their colleague, fear ghosting their features as they realized who
the interlopers were.

The Republic tolerated Stoners because they were useful but
they were also uncontrollable. They led a wild existence, compared to their
Dactari cousins, and often seemed to have a reckless disregard for the
consequences of their actions. More than a few planetary officials had died
throughout the Republic at the hands of a Stoner.

It was clear these magisters understood their peril.

“Hello, little cousins.” Graadt gave another squeeze. “Has
this man committed some crime?” He nodded at the father, who was doubled over
from a blow to his stomach. His wife held their young daughter, both watching
this new wrinkle play out with a mix of fear and anger.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” one of the magisters
answered with a thin veneer of bravado. He had the sense to be frightened, just
not enough to keep his hole shut.

“What evidence have you got?” Nid asked as he moved to stand
behind the magister.

A nervous glance over his shoulder. “Well, where did he get
the money to turn his daughter into a scientist?”

“That’s not evidence,” Graadt stated flatly. “It’s just a
petulant question.” He held his grip on the first magister as he turned to the
family, gazing at the father who’d managed to stand back up, though his
breathing was still labored. 

Graadt nodded to himself. “I see nothing here but parents
who want the best for their child.” He turned back to the four tormentors.
“Move along.”

Nid grabbed their spokesperson by the shoulders and gave him
a shove toward the crowd. Graadt pushed his man’s neck in the same direction
and the magister took a few stumbling paces before recovering.

This was the moment where it could go either way. The four
magisters had been made to look foolish in front of hundreds of citizens. They
were used to being treated with deference and the humiliation might just be too
much to bear.

The one by Nid turned to look back at his fellows. There was
a pregnant moment as they waited for someone to make a decision and then the
magister whose neck Graadt had held nodded curtly toward the pedway.

They began to move off, ignoring a scattering of catcalls
from the crowd. Ordinarily, magisters would never tolerate any show of
disrespect, but this situation was no longer in their control. There was no
chance of dealing with the insults.

Graadt turned to the parents, directing a glance at their
work clothing. “You must have met in the extractive metallurgy plant?”

A wary nod from the mother.

Graadt sighed, glancing around at the expectant crowd. “Good
pay in EM,” he muttered, turning back to her. “Good enough, I suppose, to save
up for an education if you took every shift that came along but not enough to
afford both this,” he waved at the entrance to the training center, “
and
save up for an elevator ticket.”

“No,” the father admitted, exchanging a glance with his
wife. “Someone gave us the credits for the training. We have to save for the
ticket ourselves.”

“Who?”

A shrug. “Don’t know him,” the man said. “He sat next to me
in a bar last night and started talking about his kid. Asked me if I had any…
Next thing you know, he’s handing me a chip with the exact amount needed for an
education.”

“Someone you don’t know handed you five year’s salary?”
Graadt forced himself to sound incredulous but he had a pretty good idea what
was going on here.

The father spread his hands. “I’d find it hard to believe
myself, even with the rumors that’ve been circulating lately, but it’s true. I
have no idea why folks are suddenly doing this but wouldn’t you jump at such a
chance?”

Graadt had little choice but to believe him. He took another
look around. The mood of the crowd had changed, largely due to his own actions.
In driving off the magisters, he’d emboldened the crowd. Sullen obedience had
been replaced with sullen restlessness and he was certain he wouldn’t be able
to take this family away for questioning without sparking a riot.

He looked back at the father. “Where was this bar?”

Square One

Tsekoh, Capital of Chaco Benthic

R
ick
walked out of the clothing shop, his confusion plain on his face.

“Don’t let me catch you in here again, you yokel!” the owner
yelled from the door. He walked back inside, shaking his head in disgust.

“Something wrong?”

Rick turned to find a young man smiling at him. He was
shorter than the average Human and very pale – possibly an Ufangian. Rick
wasn’t in a trusting mood but he was also very confused by the turn his luck
had taken. “My money,” he declared in stunned disbelief, holding up the chip.

The young man frowned down at the proffered hand. “Your
money?”

“I was trying to pay him and he threw me out. Doesn’t he
take this kind of money chip?”

“Ahhh!” the young man exclaimed. He reached out and took the
chip before Rick could protest. “There’s your problem,” he offered. “This isn’t
a money chip – it’s a breath pack.”

To Rick’s horror, the Ufangian popped it in his mouth.

“Oh… Gods!” The man screwed his face up in disgust. He spat
out a gooey mess. “You must have gotten this from a Dactari. Their species
exists solely for the purpose of keeping the scarab-berry flavor on the
market.”

He spat again. “Tastes like the south end of a north-bound
cackler.”

Rick finally got a handle on the moment and he realised what
had happened. “Motherless clone!” He looked uselessly upward. “Bastard stole my
share of the salvage. When I get my hands on him…”

“Someone stole your salvage money?” The Ufangian seemed to
have cleared out most of the offending breath pack. “Up on the station?”

An angry nod.

“How much?”

“Just over two million. Some motherless orbital controller.”

The Ufangian whistled. “Two million?” He shook his head.
“You won’t be getting your hands on him, my friend. He probably already quit.
He’ll buy a ticket on the next flight away from here and leave behind whatever
possessions he had in the city.”

Helpless rage. The bastard wouldn’t be coming down here and
Rick, fool that he was, didn’t have the money to ride back up. He’d been
tricked with a damned breath mint.

“Sounds like you could use some help.” The Ufangian grinned.
“You probably haven’t lined up a job yet, seeing as you thought you were rich.”

“True.”

“C’mon, I know a guy.” The Ufangian started off and Rick
fell in behind him.

Now that the shock of being fooled so easily had worn off,
Rick could understand how it had happened.  The controller had paid for
his elevator ride so he wouldn’t discover the scam until he was safely trapped
down beneath the ocean. Because the ride was far beyond his fourteen-second
pre-cog ability, there was no way for him to know what was coming.