Exiled to the Stars (58 page)

"The point is," Jack continued, "without me, and my casino, and my park, and my playground, the colony would be a much grimmer place; a prison with little to look forward to. Oh, I know," Jack said as Ken opened his mouth to reply. "You have your Bingo games, held in a gray, characterless multipurpose hall, with colorless callers announcing numbers in bored monotones.

"My casino is filled with life, and music, and fun, and laughter. That's not their 'weakness'. That's their humanity! Yes, I'm making money, but
you're
the one who set up this capitalist system." He shrugged. "If
you
want a little truth, I think you've been wasting a lot of good opportunities. We should be working together on things like the Seaport Project, not fighting over them. I assume that project is why you finally steeled yourself to meet with the Devil."

Ken nodded. "Of course. You know that the Council has not approved a fishing settlement on the seacoast, and they are unlikely to do so."

Jack shook his head. "Of course, they are. That's why Jim Watson and old 'Berto Gomez came to me when you turned them down. You know very well that catches are diminishing in the river, and we haven't found any more edible species. If Jim hadn't come up with the idea of using ground-up fish from Gouge Lake in the livestock feed, the fishermen would be out of business. The Seacoast Project is their chance to start over."

Ken shook his head. "But the coast is thirty klicks from here. We couldn't protect them, Besides, what would they do for power? We certainly couldn't afford to build a fusactor that far from the colony. The colony is responsible for those people. We can't let them just go haring off into the wilderness."

Jack shook his head. "What gives you the right to stop them? They're not asking you to be responsible. This will be strictly a private enterprise project. In fact, we're making every effort to avoid colony involvement. We don't intend to go to the Council for a while.

"We will employ our own defense force, and negotiate the purchase of weapons from the armory. And if the Council refuses to sell them to us, we'll just have some of the colony's
private
companies make us some. Maybe old-fashioned firearms. And we won't need a fusactor. The fishermen are experts in solar power now, and the site survey indicated that a brisk offshore wind might make windmills practical. We'll build a road from here to the coast, so we can transport our catch."

He shook his head again, and raised his eyes to meet Ken's. "Admit it, Administrator. If my name wasn't linked to it, you'd be falling all over yourself to push this project. It's time we started breaking out of this little farming enclave, and spreading out. The only things we'll ask of the colony administration is to sell us a few of the things we'll need, like weapons. Since nearly everything we'll need is now produced by private companies, very little involvement by the colony, and especially the Council, is required."

Ken frowned. He'd seen the plans for the Seaport Project, and Brooks was right. If he hadn't been involved, Ken would have been a cheerleader for the project. Still…

"Okay," he said, "That's the sales pitch. Now, what's
your
angle? What are
you
going to be taking from those people?

A genuine smile finally crossed Brooks' face. "I'm financing it. I'll be a full partner in their co-op, and receive a standard share of the income from the catch." He shrugged. "It'll probably take a couple of years for them to turn a profit, but I'm ready for that."

He paused, and then continued, "Administrator, I came here to level with you. Ever since I was a kid, all I wanted was to be rich. Oh, I know that wealth is power, but it wasn't power I was after. I was smart enough to grab Ryles' casino when the colony went private, and used it to get rich. Yes, after the still was such a success, I actually considered organizing prostitution and some other vices, but I didn't have the stomach for it. I guess gambling and booze was my limit.

"But I was surprised by how easy and quick it was to become wealthy. And I found I had already reached that lifetime goal. I was the wealthiest man in the colony, and I was too young to retire, and not content to just sit in my office and run my casino, still, and real estate. Five years ago, I was out of challenges.
It was too easy
! And I've spent the last five years looking for more challenges. The Seacoast Project is the first thing I've been excited about in years. I don't care if I spend my last zinc on it. Money's easy, and I've still got the casino and still.

"And frankly, I don't much care whether you join me or fight me. Either way, it'll be a challenge, and it'll be
fun
." The grin he turned on Ken was wide and genuine, and Ken had to restrain himself from answering it with one of his own.

"Yes, well," he replied, "I suspect you're going to need a lot more from the colony than just a few weapons. And I doubt the Council will agree with your easy dismissal of their authority.

"I'll have to think about this," he continued. "In many ways you're correct, and it is a road down which I was hoping the colony would go. But I'm not at all certain that this is the time, or that we're ready for such adventures." He sighed. "Well, Messer Brooks, this may have been the first time we met, but I'm certain it won't be the last. We'll be talking again."

Jack nodded, accepting the dismissal, rose and headed for the door. He turned back at the sound of Ken's voice. "By the way, I don't suppose any of this has anything to do with Jorge Fuentes suddenly trying to form a 'Miner's Guild' and demand higher wages for the miners, does it?"

Jack grinned and shook his head. "Not guilty. From what I've read on the comp, it sounds like Capitalism at work. Your 'revolution' is finally coming home to roost." He paused. "I think you've got a wolf lizard by the tail. And you can't let go: there are
teeth
in the other end!" He sailed out the door without waiting for a reply.

Ken had just found a paper he'd been seeking on his desk when Evelyn's sweet contralto said, "Jorge Fuentes is calling, dear. Should I put him through?"

Ken sighed. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, and then, louder, "Put him through."

When Jorge's image appeared on his monitor, he put on a professional smile. "Good Morning, Jorge. Call to threaten me with your union again?"

Jorge looked confused. "What? What? Oh. That. No, we're still organizing. I called because we're getting those weird readings again."

Here we go
, Ken told himself.
Dragging it out of him, bit by bit.
"What readings? What are you talking about?"

Jorge frowned. "Why, the R65C, of course.

"The what?" he paused. "Oh, yar, the metals detector."

Jorge stared as though he'd just grown another head. "Of
course
the metals detector. The one that's installed in the big airship, and that's been running scans for about fifteen years, now."

Ken chuckled. "Jorge, do you have any idea how long it's been since I even thought of that gadget?" He paused. "If it's acting up, shouldn't you be talking to Frank Wong? It's his baby, isn't it?"

Jorge's expression became exasperated. "It isn't 'acting up', and there's nothing wrong with it! Frank just did the complete maintenance program a month ago. It's not the machine. There's something out there!"

Ken suppressed a grimace. "Something out there? What is
that
supposed to mean?"

Jorge's exasperation faded to worried confusion. "Don't you remember – no, you probably wouldn't. The machine did this once before, a few years ago. You were going to send out some Explorers, but that was about the time the power went out, I think. Now we're getting the same kinds of readings, and in the same area."

Ken struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Jorge could be a problem, sometimes. "
What
kind of readings? What's weird about them?"

Jorge shrugged. "Oh, you know, showing very strong concentrations of some metals, and some strange alloys. Even the comp can't identify some of them. I think there's something
made
out there. Something not natural."

Oh, wow. Well, Jorge was getting on in years. He should be ready for retirement soon. Ken wondered if it would be soon enough. He sighed. "All right, Jorge, I'll send a heli with a detachment of Explorers. How far away is this?"

Jorge shrugged again. "About 500 klicks north of here."

Ken nodded. "Okay. Send the coordinates to my tablet. I'll get hold of Ron Creding and see who he can send."

Ron shook his head. "You know, sire, Messer Fuentes is always trying to get us to run ground surveys for him."

Ken sighed. "Yes, I do know, Ron. I'm the one he comes to when you tell him you want Council approval first.

"But this is different. I'm getting a little worried about Jorge. He's really got a bug about this thing. I'm afraid he's going to start seeing aliens or something. I just need a couple of your people to take a quick run up there in the heli, and find out what he's talking about. It's only about 500 klicks. If you get an early start, you can probably do it in one day."

Ron grinned. "Well, Grampa Vlad's been complaining that he hasn't seen the twins in almost a week. This could be a good excuse to drop them on him and run off for a private weekend. I'm qualified to fly the heli."

Ken smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me. If Vlad complains, tell him it's colony business."

"Complain? Are you kidding?"

Ken nodded. "All right. But Ron, take this seriously, will you? If we
are
getting anomalous readings from that thing, we probably need to know what it is."

Ron's grin faded. "We always take our work seriously, sire. We'll load the heli tonight, and lift off early tomorrow." His smile flared again. "We might not get back for a couple of days, though. These investigations can take time."

Ken nodded, smiling. "Understood. Call me when you get back."

Expecting the Credings to enjoy a few days' camping, Ken was surprised when Evelyn announced a call from Ron the next afternoon.

"We're on our way back, sire," Ron reported his tone full of excitement. "Will you be at home later? We have something to discuss with you."

Ken started to ask a question, but he'd already noticed that Ron was trying to avoid reporting over the 'net. "Well," he said, "I have some reports I'm looking over. I'll just hang around here until you arrive."

Ron nodded. "Thank you, sire. About two hours."

When Ron and Elaine arrived just over two hours later, their excitement was obvious. They were obviously bursting with news.

"Messer Fuentes was right, sire," Ron began excitedly. "There's something out there, all right. We think we've finally found those natives we've been looking for!" Elaine, eyes large in her darker face, was nodding enthusiastically.

Ken straightened. "Tell me about it."

"Well," Ron began, "We went right to the coordinates, but we didn't see much at first. It's right at the edge of a bluff, maybe 10 meters high. We landed at the base of the bluff near an old rockslide, and started to make camp. We were spraying a site when Elaine saw a sort of cave in the face of the bluff. We checked it with the instruments, and they were off the scale! It was still early, so we decided to check it out.

"At first, I thought it was just a cave. But then I realized that it was artificial. The tunnel was, well, circular, but kinda
squashed
into an oval. The walls were some sort of weird stuff, looked like plas or ceramic. But it drove the detectors crazy. They kept screaming 'unknown substance, unknown substance'.

"The tunnel only ran about twelve meters, and it ended in a small room with eight funny-looking saddle things sticking up from the floor. The room was oval shaped, like the tunnel, but rotated ninety degrees. When we were coming out, I realized that there must have been a landslide a few years ago that uncovered the tunnel. We looked around until we found a few small pieces of that wall stuff that got broken off in the slide. We brought them back in sample containers."

"Please tell me you got pictures," Ken begged.

Both Ron and Elaine grinned. "Of course, sire. But we put them in the tablets' local storage. We didn't think you'd want them on the 'net." the Explorers quickly downloaded their photos and vid to Ken's tablet.

He started through them. "You're right," he said. "That stuff does look like plas."

Ron nodded. "Yar, but when you look at the sample, you'll see that it looks like it's made up of fibers of some kind.

Ken continued through the images. The tunnel's artificial origins were obvious, even in the light of the Explorers' lanterns. In shape it resembled an oval, wider than its height. The walls were white, smooth and seamless.

The tunnel's end was smooth, but abrupt. The room at the end shared the flattened oval shape, but at 90 degrees to the original tunnel. The eight saddles were wide and flat, with scalloped edges. They were mounted on oval poles protruding from the floor. "They're about a meter long," Elaine supplied, "And maybe two-thirds of that wide. The poles are about a meter high. Everything was covered in about five cems of dust."

"The room at the end had no doors, other than the one that connected with the tunnel," Ron added. "As you'll see, I examined it closely, and it does seem there's a door of some sort." He grinned. "I wasn't about to try to make it work. Especially not from the inside!"

Ken grinned. "I don't blame you," he replied. He stopped the vid, and sat back in his chair. The others didn't try to disturb his obvious deep thought.

Finally, he sat forward. "All right," he said. "The two of you get on home and enjoy your night off before Susan finds out you're back and returns your two terrorists. In the morning, I'll want you, Ron, to put together a full team of Explorers to escort the party of investigators we'll be sending. There may be only half a dozen or so at first, but as they start to find and analyze things, they'll be calling in other experts. I'd set up as large a camp as you have room for, because I'll guarantee it won't be large enough."

"They're not terrorists," Elaine protested. "They're just…energetic."