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12

Lando entered the cabin, put the tray on the shelf next to Dee's bunk, and flopped into a chair.

Dee made no response. Her eyes were closed and only the steady rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was alive.

Lando hooked a leg over the arm of the chair. "Cut the crap, Della. About ten minutes ago you were up and around looking for your slug gun."

One eye flew open and glared in his direction. It was very green. "How did you know that?"

Lando pointed up toward the ceiling. "Because shortly after I brought you aboard Cy put a vid pickup on the overhead."

The other eye opened. "You spied on me!"

"We watched to make sure you were okay," Lando countered. "Sorry . . . but we're short on nurses."

Dee sat upright in bed. It hurt but she was too angry to care. "I didn't have any clothes on!"

Lando grinned. "Not true. You had that shirt on. A shirt that happens to be mine by the way."

"But that's all I had on!"

"Now that's true," Lando agreed thoughtfully, "but you should think of me as your doctor."

"My doctor? My doctor?" Dee demanded. "Think of a common criminal as my doctor? No way!"

Lando shrugged. "Have it your way. How're you feeling?"

Dee fell back in bed and turned toward the bulkhead.

Lando got up and headed toward the door. He was halfway through when she spoke.

"Pik . . ."

 

He turned around. "Yeah?" "Thanks for taking care of me." Lando smiled. "I was happy to do it."

Up on Junk's bridge Melissa pushed a button. She made a face as the vid screen faded to black. "'Thanks for taking care of me.' Oh, think nothing of it, darling, I was happy to do it. Ugh! Absolutely disgusting!" And with that she stomped off the bridge.

Lando knocked on Cap's open door. "You wanted to see me?"

Cap looked up and scowled. Lando saw that while Sorenson hadn't shaved for two days he was reasonably sober. As usual his office was a mess with junk all over the place and a half-empty plate of food by his elbow.

"Yeah, I wanted to see you. You've been avoiding me."

Lando nodded. "True enough. For some strange reason I thought you'd be angry with me."

"Angry with you?" Cap asked sarcastically. "Angry with the man who took my daughter dirtside without permission, dragged her into a gambling den, and got her arrested? Angry? Why would I be angry?"

Lando held up his hands defensively. "Okay, I accept what you're saying. I was wrong to take Melissa dirtside."

"Wrong?" Cap demanded, leaning forward in his chair. "'Wrong' isn't strong enough. How 'bout stupid? Or criminally insane?

"You knew Cy had a gambling habit, you knew Willer was out there somewhere, you knew about the price on your head . . . I'd say you were something more than 'wrong.'"

Lando's eyes grew narrow. "Why you sanctimonious old bastard. Where the hell were you when Cy and Melissa wanted to go dirtside? I'll tell you where you were, lying unconscious on your bunk, that's where! Melissa is your daughter. You want to take care of her? Fine. Stay sober."

Cap's face turned absolutely white. For one long moment both men stared at each other. It was Cap who broke and looked down at the surface of his desk. His voice sounded small.

"You're right of course. I know it doesn't mean much, but I haven't had a drink since I went to pick her up."

Lando cleared his throat. "It could mean something, Cap. It could be a start if you want it to be."

"Yeah," Cap said, looking up and into Lando's eyes. "I guess it could. I've read books about it you know. They say to 'take it one day at a time.'"

Lando nodded. "You could make one little girl extremely happy. And speaking of her, where was she? They split us up early on. Cy and I were worried."

The color returned to Cap's face as he leaned back in his chair. "They took her to some sort of juvenile facility. For a while there I thought I'd have a hard time getting her out, but when I blamed everything on you they released her right away."

Lando grimaced. "Thanks a lot."

"Think nothing of it," Cap replied cheerfully. "Now, Cy was something else again. It turned out that our little friend had gambling debts totaling a quarter million."

"A quarter-million credits?"

"Yup, two hundred and fifty thousand big ones. It took every bit of your gold, my gold, and the proceeds from the sale of the speedster to pay them off."

"Wait a minute! My gold was hidden!"

"Of course," Cap replied smugly. "But this is my ship, remember? I helped build it. It didn't take long to open the ventilation duct, find the gold, and put the screen back in place."

"Why you old . . ."

"Hold on," Cap admonished. "Cy promises to pay us back. Even if he has to stay on my payroll for the next hundred and forty years. Besides, you shouldn't say unpleasant things about the man who lets you bring bounty hunters home, and pays for burned-out rental cars."

"You paid for the rental car?"

Cap nodded. "I had to. Otherwise they were coming up here to take you and your bounty hunter into custody."

Lando remembered the firefight and the bullets flying every which way. "Thanks, Cap. I'm sorry about the speedster. I know you liked it. When Cy pays me I'll pay you. Or Della will."

Cap gave a grunt. "Thanks. I won't hold my breath. Let's just finish the contract. It's only a matter of time until Willer comes after us again."

Lando stood up. Cap was right. Willer wanted him dead. As for Cap, well, when it came to the Star of Empire, both men were slightly deranged and Willer most of all. He wanted the ship first and Cap second. Were it otherwise Willer could've killed Sorenson a dozen times over. No, he had some sort of crazy fantasy in which Cap would lead him to the ship, the ship that took his body.

"Right. I'll get to work."

"Not so fast," Cap replied. "Take a look at this." He held up a fax.

Lando took it. The fax bore an official-looking seal and was addressed to Cap:

 
Dear Captain Sorenson,

Regarding the disposition of item D-878 presently occupying OL-18: We are well acquainted with the fact that said item is occupied by unauthorized beings.

However, this fact in no way relieves you or your crew of responsibility for the fulfillment of your contract, and falls within the purview of page sixty-seven, paragraph two, which clearly states " . . . that the contractor shall bear full and complete responsibility for dealing with any and all life forms dwelling in and around such orbital debris during the life of the contract."

With that in mind, we remind you that final payment is conditional upon meeting the agreed-upon deadline, and that your time is nearly up.

Should you dispute the content of this letter please feel free to appeal our decision. Judging by our current caseload your appeal should be heard in six or seven months.

Sincerely yours,
Carolyn Baxter
Secretary,
Orbital Commission
Planet of Pylax

 

Lando handed the letter back. "I don't get it. What 'life forms'? And what is item D-878?"

"It's an old habitat," Cap answered sourly, "I cam across it while you were off playingcops and robbers with Lieutenant Itek.

"As I understand it 878 was originally constructed as a small-scale zero-G biological lab. The company that built it went broke, it passed through various hands, and was ultimately abandoned".

"So?"

"So it's too damned big to recycle as is. According to the terms of our contract, we're supposed to break it down into smaller pieces, and that would kill the people living aboard."

Lando raised and eyebrow. "How many people? And how do they survive?"

"Just two," Sorenson replied, " and as for the second part, well, I guess they just sort of scrounge for a living. You know, search for useful debris, steal whatever they can, and so forth."

"So what do you want me to do?"

Cap shrugged. "You read the letter. It's up to us. Either we get rid of them, or we don't get paid. Go over there and evict 'em."

Lando narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why me? Why didn't you evict them yourself?"

Sorenson slammed his fist down on the table. It made everything. "Because I'm the captain, damn it! Because I own this ship and you don't!"

"Okay, okay," Lando said, moving toward the door. "Don't get yourself in an uproar. Item 878 in OL-18. It's as good as done. See you later."

 

Lando fired the tender's retros and waited for the ship to match speed with D-878. It certainly wasn't much to look at. A couple of side-by-side cylinders, a long section of grid work that ran at right angles to them, and a mismatched set of solar panels. Cap was right, the damned thing was too big to recycle, and would have to come apart. The sudden squawk of the standard ship-to-ship frequency startled him. The voice was male.

"You there . . .I don't know who you are, or what the hell you're up to, you'd better get away while the gettin's good.

I have a Nergelon 500 energy cannon aimed your way. One false move and you're free metal."

Lando eyed the habitat's solar panels and checked the tender's sensors. The panels wouldn't generate enough power for a Nergelon 500, and judging from the habitat's heat signature, neither would the small on-board fusion plant. The voice was bluffing.

"All I want is a little conversation," Lando replied. "I'll suit-up and drop over for a visit."

"Don't do that!" the voice replied tersely. "Not unless you want to boil inside your suit!"

"I guess I'll just have to take that chance," Lando replied dryly, and put the tender on standby.

Twenty minutes later Lando was inside his suit and jetting toward the habitat. The suit still smelled like the bottom of a Class IV garbage scow. Lando tried to breathe through his mouth.

D-878 was closer now, close enough to see the main lock, and that's where Lando headed. He was about a hundred yards away when he heard the voice again. This time over his suit radio.

"Okay, I couldn't bring myself to use the energy cannon, but if you board I'll put a blaster bolt through your faceplate!"

"That sounds real messy," Lando replied calmly, "and completely unnecessary. Why not talk instead? That's all I want."

No answer.

Lando flipped end for end and activated the electromagnets in his boots. They hit the cylindrical hull with enough force to bend his knees.

Now that he was right on top of it Lando saw that the habitat was pretty beat-up. It looked as though a ship, or something heavy, had hit one of the cylinders about halfway up. Someone had repaired the gash with a patchwork quilt of roughly joined scrap metal.

There was other damage as well, signs that someone had stripped the hull of external fittings, and been less than gentle in the process.

Lando walked across the hull, grabbed the all-purpose tool from his belt, and rapped on the habitat's lock. He couldn't hear but the people inside the hull could.

No response.

Lando sighed. He chinned the radio on. "Okay, be stubborn I'll cut my way in."

Lando released the tool and felt the lanyard pull it in. Grabbing the cutting laser that hung at his side, Lando checked to make sure the power pak was fully charged, and flicked it on. The hull metal glowed cherry-red where the beam cut into it.

He felt like the big bad wolf huffing and puffing and blowing the house in.

"All right, all right!" the voice said. "I'll open the lock. Turn that damned thing off. There's enough holes in this pile of junk already."

Lando did as he was told and the lock cycled open. The second he stepped inside it closed behind him as if to keep any others out. Time passed until his external indicator read "Pressure normal, atmosphere breathable." The inner hatch irised open.

Satisfied that they hadn't tried to flood the lock with toxic gas, Lando broke the seals on his suit and pushed his helmet back over his shoulders. The air tasted like the usual recycled stuff. Killing the power to his boots Lando launched himself toward the hatch. Arriving outside he expected the voice would be there to greet him. Outside of a beat-up old space suit on a rack, and a net full of salvaged junk, there was no sign of another human being.

Lando pulled himself through a hatch and into a long corridor. In spite of the cracked and dirty paint, he could make out the words "Crew Quarters" stenciled on the bulkhead, along with a faded green arrow.

Using conveniently placed handholds to pull himself along, Lando saw that the floor of the tunnel was almost as good as new. Without argrav nobody had ever used it. Of course "floor" was a somewhat relative term in zero G but it seemed to fit because the path in question was free of conduit and equipped with a plastic mat.

Now a solid bulkhead blocked Lando's way. It had a hatch but that had been welded shut. The faded sign said "Crew Quarters" but a crudely drawn arrow pointed toward the left.

Lando opened a small access door and followed, realizing that he was inside a maintenance tunnel, and moving from one cylinder to the next. The passageway was dark but Lando saw light up ahead.

A few moments later he swam out and into a relatively large compartment. It had once served the lab as both cafeteria and lounge. Now it looked like a somewhat messy apartment. There was stuff all over the place, most of it secured by nets, but some floating free.

And there right in the middle of the room was an old man, and behind him in some sort of hammock affair was an elderly woman. Lando couldn't be sure what with the blankets and so forth but it looked as though her body was twisted by some sort of terrible disease. The hammock made a sort of free-floating nest in which she could rest pressure-free.

She looked like a fragile bird, with small features and a nose just a shade too large for her face. There was something in her eyes though, a brightness, which made her beautiful. In spite of Lando's uninvited status she smiled and the pilot found himself smiling back.

The man was thin, with a halo of white hair around an otherwise bald head, and deep circles under his eyes. As Lando approached, he moved to place himself in front of the woman. The man was scared but determined. The blaster shook slightly in his hand. "That's far enough! Now, what do you want?"

Lando smiled disarmingly. "Hi, my name's Pik Lando. I work aboard a salvage tug, and we . . ."

"I already told the first guy no," the old man said, "we aren't leaving the lab. My wife's sick and if I take her dirtside she'll die. We can't afford a zero-G hospital so I brought her here. It took all our savings just to make the habitat livable. So do your worst."

"Now, Herbert . . ." the woman started.

"No, Edith, I mean it," Herbert replied sternly. "We've been through this a dozen times. This is our home now. It's as good a place as any to die."

Lando sighed. He'd been royally had. Cap had been here, found himself unable to evict the elderly squatters, and sent someone else to do his dirty work. Well, it wasn't going to happen. He forced a smile.

"Sorry to impose on you folks. I'll be on my way."

Lando was just about to enter the maintenance tunnel when Herbert stopped him. "Wait a minute, young man . . . what are you going to do?"

Lando looked around. "Beats me, Herbert. But whatever it is won't hurt you or Edith."

The blaster wavered and dropped. "I'm sorry about the threats. We were scared."

Lando nodded soberly. "That's quite all right. You take care. I'll see you later."

"We'll be here." Herbert put his arm around Edith's shoulders and she smiled.

The image of Edith's loving face and Herbert's fierce determination was still clear in Lando's mind when he reached Junk.

He headed straight for Cap's cabin and didn't knock when he entered. Cap looked up from his com screen. "Well? Did you kick 'em out?"

Lando was angry. "No, I didn't 'kick them out.' And neither did you!"

Cap shrugged. "I don't have to. I have you to do those things for me. You know the score. Either we move 'em or we don't get paid."

Lando was just about to speak, to tell Cap what a worthless lowlife he was, when something clicked. "What did you say?"

Cap raised an eyebrow. "I said, 'You know the score . . . either we move 'em or we don't get paid.' You're starting to slip, Lando. Maybe that pressor beam scrambled your brains."

Lando ignored the insult. "Move 'em! That's the answer!"

Cap leaned back and shook his head. "'Fraid not. I thought of that one too. Use Junk to tow 'em into a different orbit. Nice thought but it won't work. We agreed to clean things up, not just move them from one orbit to another."

Lando shook his head. "That's not what I meant. We've got some portable thrusters right? The heavy-duty jobs you sometimes mount on big tows? We could strap a few of those on the lab!"

Cap frowned. "So what good would that do? It's like I told you. Moving the lab isn't enough."

"No," Lando said impatiently, "you don't understand. Think about it. What's the difference between a habitat and a ship?"

Cap looked thoughtful. "Well, a habitat stays in orbit and a ship has the capability to"—the older man's face lit up with sudden understanding—"travel from place to place! That's great!" Then his face fell. "Damn."

"What?"

"It won't work, Lando. Sure, the thrusters might get them to another planet, but they might not too. All kinds of things could go wrong. Chances are we'd send them to their deaths."

Lando smiled. "Wrong, Cap, you still don't get it. Like you said, a ship has the capability to travel, and that means that it falls outside the authority of the Commission. They can levy a parking fee but that's it."

Cap nodded slowly. "I'll have to check but I think you're right. But what about the cost? Those thrusters are worth a thousand credits apiece, and how 'bout the parking fees?"

Lando paused in the doorway and smiled. "Think about it, Cap. Which would you rather have? The money or a clear conscience?"

Cap scowled. "The money."

But he didn't mean it, and three rotations later it was he who poured champagne on the lab's durasteel deck, and named her after a flightless bird. And light sparkled off mismatched solar panels as the good ship Penguin circled the planet Pylax.

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