Drifter (9 page)

"It would if they asked," Lando replied. "But I'm banking on the fact that the company has no reason to ask. Not until they hear about what happened on Weller's World, anyway."

Wendy nodded. What Lando said made sense. But how would they get inside? Surely there was an access code or something.

Lando pulled a keyboard out of a wall recess and tapped on the keys. "How about it, Wendy? Have you ever gone for a walk outside?"

"As in
outside the ship?
In space armor?"

The words PROGRAM CHECK COMPLETE rolled up on a small screen. Lando eyed them and tapped a key. The words disappeared. "Yeah, as in 'outside the ship in space armor.'"

"Never."

Lando nodded and straightened up. "That's what I thought. But that's okay 'cause there's plenty for you to do right here. See this keyboard?"

"Yes?"

"Well, when I get outside I'll ask you to operate it. If the keyboard's a problem, use voice. Keep an eye peeled for visitors too. The sensors are set for max. If one goes off, then let me know right away. Got it?"

Wendy nodded. "Operate the keyboard and monitor the sensors. Got it."

Lando grinned. "Good. Then how about a kiss?"

Wendy slid into his arms and met his lips with hers. The kiss lasted a long time.

When it ended, Lando cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse. "You're a very distracting lady. Too distracting. Remind me to continue this conversation a little bit later."

Wendy smiled. "It's a deal."

It took Lando half an hour to gather what he needed, to don his space armor, and exit through the ship's tiny lock.

The white landing lights still rippled the length of the ship and the nav beacons still flashed. The endless void stretched off in every direction. It would be easy to unclip the safety line, push hard, and drift away.

Lando shook the idea off and moved away from
The Tink's
hull. Within a matter of three or four steps he left argrav behind and entered zero-G. He checked the safety line to make sure that it was secured. It was.

Two squirts from Lando's built-in jet pak carried him over to the cargo carrier's raised side. A series of yellow arrows interspersed with the words "Emergency Quarters-Oxygen Breathers Only" led him to the personnel lock.

The outer hatch was made of durasteel. Right next to it was a pressure plate and an internally lit numeric keypad. Lando palmed the pressure plate. Nothing. Surprise, surprise. The hatch was locked.

He anchored his self-closing supply sack to the cargo carrier's hull and fumbled through his gear.

"Hey, Wendy… you read me?"

"Loud and clear. I can see you, too. The port vid cam has a nice clean shot."

"Good. I'll need your help on the keyboard. Enter 'Test Sequence,' but don't execute."

"Roger."

Lando found the small self-powered transceiver, checked the setting, and turned it on. A magnet held it to the deck. Assuming that everything worked correctly, the transceiver would provide linkage with a small, highly specialized computer aboard
The Tink.
A computer equipped with some useful but rather illegal programs.

"Okay… execute."

"Executing."

Seconds passed, and Wendy returned. "I have 'Test Sequence complete.'"

"Good. Set up 'Run Program,' and wait to execute."

"Roger."

Lando attached two leads to the numeric keypad and connected the other ends to the transceiver. An indicator light glowed red. The smuggler checked to make sure the leads were properly seated. The red light disappeared.

"Okay," Lando said, "here goes nothing. Execute."

"Executing."

Time passed. Lando used it to sip water from his suit. Wendy's voice boomed inside his helmet.

"A series of numbers appeared on the screen."

"Excellent! What are they?"

"Ten… seventeen… twenty-three… and twelve."

Lando punched the numbers into the keypad and watched the indicator light flash green.

"Very tricky," Wendy said approvingly. "You used the computer to run all the possible combinations until it hit the right one. That's illegal, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Lando asked innocently. "I'll check the next time I visit a law library."

The hatch cycled open. Lando unclipped his safety line and attached it to one of the many tie-downs located just outside the lock.

He stepped inside. Lights came on and threw his shadow against the bulkhead. He waited while the outer door irised closed and the ship's computer pumped an atmosphere into the lock.

A "Pressurized" sign came on. Lando checked the heads-up display inside his helmet to make sure. It agreed.

Lando opened his visor and found that the cargo carrier's air tasted musty and stale.

"Pik?" Wendy sounded nervous.

"Yeah?"

"Is everything okay?"

Lando stepped out of the lock and into the ship's emergency quarters. There were some tidy bunk beds, a serviceable galley, and a wall full of electronics. Lando headed in that direction.

"Sure… everything's fine. I'm inside now. Any sign of company?"

"No, not so far."

"Good. Keep your eyes peeled."

There was a chair located in front of the electronics. Lando sat down. It made a whirring noise and adjusted to his frame.

The ship's central computer sensed his presence and activated the control panel. A screen came on, and rows of indicator lights glowed red, yellow, and green.

Lando grinned. It was just as he'd hoped. Since there was no way to anticipate who might use the emergency quarters, the company had dispensed with the usual security codes.

He spoke. "Show me how much of the cargo capacity has been utilized."

Silence. It seemed that Mega-Metals didn't waste money on voice-actuated computers for the emergency quarters on its cargo carriers. The keyboard would have to do.

Although his gloved fingers made it difficult to type, Lando entered: "Cargo… Percentage of capacity utilized this voyage."

Words flashed on the screen: CAPACITY UTILIZED 98.7%.

Lando swore under his breath. "Damn!" So much for slipping the concentrate into an empty slot. Every freighter lost some of its hold space to odd nooks and crannies, the gaps between cargo modules, and sloppy stowage. The 1.3 percent of supposedly available space wasn't really there.

"Did you say something?"

"Yeah," Lando replied. "I did. This baby's fully loaded."

"Oh," Wendy said, obviously disappointed. "Well, that's that, I guess."

Lando tapped his fingers on the console. His gloves made a clicking sound against the plastic. "Maybe, and maybe not. We could dump some of the company's cargo and replace it with the concentrate, or locate some of your supplies and do the same thing."

Wendy thought out loud. "If you dump the company's supplies, they're almost sure to notice the discrepancy and investigate. And if you dump our supplies, then we lose something we need."

"That's about the size of it," Lando agreed. "It's a tough decision."

A buzzer sounded in
The Tink's
cockpit and made itself heard over the radio.

"We've got company, Pik! It looks like there's a tug headed our way!"

Lando felt his pulse pound in his head. He knew he should pull out, run like hell, but they were so damned close. "So what's your decision?"

"My decision? You mean you're still willing to try?"

"It'll take them hours to get here. What's your decision?"

"But they'll detect us when we break away!"

"Maybe, and maybe not. What's your decision?"

Wendy killed the buzzer. The sudden silence helped her think. An investigation was out of the question. The timing would be terrible. What if the company found out about… No, she mustn't even think it.

That left the second alternative. Dumping some of their own supplies. Which would the elders prefer? The concentrate,

or whatever else was aboard this particular vessel? Short of checking the manifest, and actually asking them, there was no way to be sure. Wendy took a chance.

"Okay, dump some of our stuff. Anything but medical supplies, replacement parts, or lab equipment."

"Roger."

Lando instructed the computer to display all non-company cargoes. A manifest rolled up. He skimmed the list. Tools, clothing, medical supplies, food paks, lab equipment, replacement parts, and a long list of data cubes.

"How about clothing, food, or data cubes?"

Wendy bit her lip in frustration. Every one of the things Lando had named was desperately needed. Still, the concentrate was absolutely critical to Angel's future. "Dump the clothing first, food second, and data cubes last."

"That's a roger," Lando replied and went to work. Here at least he could get some help. The cargo carrier was highly automated and capable of loading and unloading itself. The first problem was to locate the cargo he wanted to dump.

Lando ran the cursor down the manifest and highlighted the items in question. With that accomplished, the smuggler asked for and received a 3-D schematic showing the location of each item.

Now Lando saw that the cargo was stowed in vertical stacks under the topmost surface of the ship. The same surface
The Tink
had landed on. So, unless the cargo he wanted to dump happened to be on top of a stack, other modules would have to be removed and then put back. A time-consuming chore even with automated equipment.

The clothes were towards the stern, packed under five of the company's cargo modules, making them impossible to access in the time available. They would stay.

The food was located amidships, not far from the landing zone, second in a stack of twelve.

The data cubes were in a perfect location, extremely close to the landing zone, and right up front with nothing blocking the way.

The problem was that the data cubes had an insufficient mass. The concentrate would require almost double the amount of space that the cubes occupied.

There was no doubt about it. The food would have to go.

The computer keys were oversized to accommodate space-suited hands, but Lando still found it difficult to type with gloves on. He made mistakes, and ground his teeth as he used precious seconds to correct them. The company's tug got closer and closer with every moment that passed. Lando forced the thought out of his mind.

"Wendy."

"Yes?"

"Go back to the hold. Release the straps that hold the concentrate in place. Then return to the engineering space, seal the hatch, and depressurize the cargo bay. Once that's done, instruct
The Tink's
computer to open the outer doors. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Give me a holler when the doors are open."

Part of the cargo carrier's automated equipment consisted of specially designed zero-G autoloaders.

Though built to shift cargo modules weighing thousands of pounds apiece under Earth normal gravity, the autoloaders were extremely light, and looked like eight-legged Terran spiders. Under zero gravity conditions agility and control were much more important than strength.

And, similar to Earth-type arachnids, these could also spin long safety lines, which allowed them to venture out half a mile or so from the ship whenever necessary.

But, even with help from two autoloaders, it still took an hour to open the proper stack, remove the company's cargo module, launch the food into space, replace it with the fertilizer, and doctor the cargo manifest to hide the switch.

The cargo carrier's computer would still rat on them if asked the right questions, but Lando continued to hope that no one would think to do so.

As he rose from the chair, the console turned itself off and the indicator lights went dark. The smuggler looked around, assured himself that everything looked just as it had when he arrived, then headed for the lock.

"How close is the tug?"

Wendy's voice was shaky. "Damned close. Their ETA is eight hours and twenty-six minutes. They'll pick us up the moment we separate from the carrier."

Lando waited for the lock to cycle him through. Wendy was right. The tug's crew would be sure to notice if he fired up
The Tink's
drives and took off in the normal manner. The combination of heat, radiation, and electromagnetic activity would light up half their control panel.

But what if he took another approach? What if he simply released
The Tink
and drifted away? Yes, the ship's life-support systems would generate some heat, but not enough to trigger the tug's sensors. Or so Lando hoped.

The lock irised open and closed automatically. The smuggler found the safety line, clipped it to his armor, and was halfway to
The Tink
when he remembered the transceiver. There was nothing he could do but go back and get it.

A full minute passed while Lando grabbed the transceiver and his other tools, stuffed them in the self-sealing bag, and headed for
The Tink's
lock. He nearly went crazy waiting for it to cycle him through.