Planet of trechery, p.6
Planet Of Trechery, page 6
Pias visited all four of the planets in turn, soliciting business in an almost casual way. On each world, he would first spend a couple of days locating the casinos where the best action could be found. He would then spend another few days observing who the most important gamblers were. He made friends with dealers, croupiers and "hostesses," pumping them most discreetly to learn the latest scuttlebutt. His trained eye was sizing up everyone in the house, and it seldom took him more than an hour to ascertain which people would be of interest to him and which could be ignored.
Once he'd chosen his quarries, his plan of attack was carefully calculated. A few select words about the wonders of the new gambling ship; a hint that the maiden voyage might already be filled up; and a card he would hesitantly slip to an interested listener, a card bearing only a subcom number to be called for a "ticket to Paradise." Pias refused to answer any questions about the ship in person, giving his prospective clients the impression he had already let out too much as it was. If they wanted to know more, he told them, they would have to call the number and set up a screening appointment. Then he moved on-usually without even giving his name.
By the time Pias had made the rounds of all four planets and returned to Egon, where work on the Paradise was being completed, the clamor for tickets was surprising even to him. Yvette was going slightly crazy trying to process all the applications by herself while doing her own job as well; Pias promptly stepped in and relieved her of this responsibility.
People he had talked to were unable to resist telling their friends about this unique excursion, and the friends, in turn, had told even more people. Applications were even coming in from outside the four planets where Pias had done his recruiting. As a result he could afford to be quite selective, often rejecting people on seemingly trivial grounds. With each rejection he sadistically sent along a full-color trioptic brochure showing all the wonders the Paradise had to offer-and with each rejection, the demand seemed to double.
Looking up from a stack of applications one evening, Pias told his wife, "You know, if the pirates don't hit us on the first couple of trips, we may actually make a profit on this whole deal. Even including all meals in the package, we've got a high enough basic fee; with the house percentages of the take, plus our share of the money on the special services, we could end up doing quite well for ourselves."
"Mon Dieu, I think you're starting to like this."
"Just thinking about job security. We've got to catch Lady A and her crew sometime-and if there aren't any more plots, SOTE may put us out to pasture. I'm too old to learn brain surgery-I have to have something to fall back on."
As Yvette had promised, she was responsible for obtaining the crew-a crew that would never be overrun by pirates, no matter how well armed the outlaws were, no matter how badly they outnumbered the ship's complement. Fortunately, this was the easiest part of the entire operation. Yvette merely called for members of her family.
The Family d'Alembert was unique in human history. Throughout the Empire the family was renowned as the principal performers in the Circus of the Galaxy-aerialists, ac-
robats, jugglers, animal tamers, magicians, clowns, wrestlers... the whole gamut of thrilling entertainment. The d'Alembert clan was synonymous with the Circus-more than a thousand of them, constantly on tour throughout the inhabited planets, playing to packed houses wherever they went.
But that was only the surface appearance of this truly incredible family. Beneath the glittery facade, the Circus was also one of the most valuable weapons in SOTE's arsenal against treason. This was a fact that was known to only a handful of people outside the d'Alembert family itself-that handful being the Imperial family, the Head of SOTE, and his daughter/second-in-command. So secret was the Circus's connection with SOTE that no mention had ever been made of it in writing and no records of its activities had ever been put on file, lest some enemy gain access to SOTE's computer and learn the truth. The d'Alemberts were not even on the Empire's payroll; through a complicated system of maneuvering, the Circus's taxes were rebated to the d'Alemberts-and so successful was the show that that money was more than sufficient to fund the family's activities for the Service.
Yvette had at her disposal dozens of relatives to help staff the Paradise. All the members of her prolific family were from the high-gravity world of DesPlaines-and as such, they were the products of generations of forced evolution. Their reflexes were three times quicker, their bones three times stronger and their muscles three times more powerful than those of normal humans. DesPlainians in general were in great demand in any job requiring speed and strength.
Added to that, though, was the d'Alembert family's longstanding tradition of physical perfection. They were circus performers, their bodies well-oiled machines of classic efficiency. The d'Alemberts were DesPlainians-plus; and that extra margin of ability was sometimes the only advantage the Service had in its eternal struggle against the forces of chaos.
With the exception of those men and women Yvette had hired exclusively for their physical charms, each of Paradise's crew, people--from the captain down to the lowliest galley boy--was a member of her talented family. Each was skilled enough to perform his appointed task-and in a fight, there was simply no comparison.
Pias's only objection at first was on the subject of croupiers and dealers. He wanted to put professionals in those positions, to guard against any card sharps that might slip past even his thorough scrutiny. But Yvette put his mind to rest in that regard; all the people she assigned to work the tables were proteges of her Uncle Marcel, the Circus's magician. Not only were they adept at sleight of hand themselves, but their trained eyes could spot any trickster in a moment. They gave Pias a free show, and the Newforester left shaking his head... but convinced that no cheats would manage to evade the Paradise's security.
Finally, after seven long weeks of preparation, the Paradise was ready to begin its historic maiden voyage. Pias made it a gala celebration, hosting an enormous party for the press and public alike. He made a short, exciting speech about the thrills of the excursion they were about to undertake, and of the many marvels that awaited the Paradise's passengers. He announced that the first four voyages were completely booked, and then asked for questions. Many of the inquiries dealt with him personally. Who was this mysterious entrepreneur who had appeared out of nowhere to start this daring project? Pias, who had assumed the pseudonym of "Brian Sangers," had a great deal of fun dropping misleading and totally invented clues about his shady past-much of which he stole shamelessly from the book reels he had read so avidly as a child. Finally, a d'Alembert, who'd been planted in the audience as a member of the press, asked the question the Bavols had been wanting raised all along. "With all the money and valuables that will be on board your ship, aren't you afraid you might become a target for pirates?"
"Not at all," Pias replied with a casual toss of his hand. "As you might have guessed from what I've told you of my background, I'm familiar with many aspects of violence in space. I have devised a security system that makes the Paradise as immune to pirate attack as an Imperial battle cruiser. Our patrons will be as safe aboard this ship as they would be in their own homes. Safer, in fact; in your own home you always have to worry about burglars, and there will be no burglars aboard the Paradise."
With that provocative little tidbit of information thrown to them, the reporters leaped on the subject of security. They wanted to know whether the Paradise had its own heavy space artillery to ward off attackers. Pias smiled as he replied, "You all know it's a violation of Imperial law for any private vessel to travel armed through interstellar space."
The reporters did not consider that an answer, and kept pressing for more details. Pias was delighted by their attention and milked it for all it was worth, while saying nothing in the process. Finally he called a halt to this line of interrogation.
"Please, everyone-if I give you all the details of my security system, the pirates will know them, too. Any successful gambler will tell you the value of keeping something in reserve. That's all I intend to say on the subject."
The next morning, all the newsrolls were filled with the story of this mysterious Brian Sangers, his incredible gambling ship-and his reputed "secret weapon" against pirates that made his ship all but invincible. The Bavols read the reports and smiled. They had thrown a challenge directly into -the pirates' faces; the next move was up to the other side.
Two days later, the Paradise left orbit around the planet Egon on the first leg of its initial voyage. The passengers were looking forward to fun and thrills; Pias and Yvette were hoping to supply them with even more thrills than they'd bargained for.
Chapter 5
Traitor's World
Gastonia:
A planet the same size as Earth, circling a yellow dwarf star similar to Sol; a planet with one large moon and three smaller ones; a planet with a breathable oxygen atmosphere and an axial tilt of twenty-one degrees, providing the standard seasons; a planet with a large abundance of water; a planet with a flourishing population of native plants and animals; a planet composed of mountains and plains, of oceans and barren wastes; in short, a planet not too dissimilar in many respects from Mankind's original homeworld.
There was, however, one crucial difference. Gastonia circled its sun at a mean distance of 220 million kilometers. Being 14 times farther from its primary, it received only half the amount of radiation that the Earth did. Gastonia was a cold world, harsh and forbidding to people attuned to warmer climates. Its rivers and lakes were frozen over for large portions of its long year; only the complex tidal actions of the four moons insured that the oceans themselves remained fluid and ever-churning. In midsummer at the equator the temperature could sometimes reach up as high as twenty-five degrees Celsius-but that was hardly a time for rejoicing. Such temperature extremes from the normal climate range only served to increase the furious wind currents, bringing storms that made Earth's Asian monsoons look like spring showers.
This, then, was the world that "Mad Stephanie" had chosen as the permanent home of those who opposed her regime. It was a habitable if not a happy place; there were plenty of native plants and animals to serve as the settlers' food, and a guaranteed water supply from the frequent snowfalls. The Empire supplied the basics of human comfort, but little else; by opposing the Empire, these traitors had turned their backs on what the Empire could provide, and now they were paying the consequences.
As the SOTE prison ship carrying the d'Alemberts to their new home approached Gastonia, Jules and Yvonne were allowed a few quick peeks at the exile world. The planet appeared very bright from space, with lots of cloud cover through which there were tantalizing glimpses of blue ocean and white, snowcovered land. During the landing, though, they were sent back to their cells and not allowed out until the ship had touched down.
The ship landed at the single small spaceport on the entire planet, inside the walled administrative garrison the Empire maintained to keep an eye on its prisoners. Gastonia was one of the two inhabited planets in the Galaxy that was not ruled over by its own duke, the other such planet being Earth; like Earth, it was considered the personal property of the Emperor himself, and subject to his direct supervision. The Emperor appointed a Governor to run the world, and the Governor, in turn, selected his own staff and reported to the Emperor at intervals through SOTE.
The d'Alemberts were ushered unceremoniously off the ship and into the garrison, where they underwent a thorough ID scan to make certain these were the same two prisoners who'd been convicted on Islandia. When that was finished, they were treated to a complete physical examination, certifying their health upon arrival. The administrative center maintained the medical facilities on Gastonia and needed files on all the incoming prisoners before any problems developed.
Check-in procedure completed, each of them was dressed in a warm thermal uniform consisting of a shirt and slacks, thick leather boots and a heavy fur parka. A guard escorted them to a door, handed them each a fistful of small brass coins, and pressed the button that opened the portal. "Go through here and walk quickly to the other end. The door will open for you there. Enjoy your new home."
"Wait a minute," Yvonne said. "Where are we supposed to live? What will we eat? How do we meet the other prisoners? What... ?"
"There'll be someone outside to meet you," the guard said brusquely. "There usually is; they can tell the difference between an incoming prison ship and a regular supply ship."
The guard was not in a talkative mood. She shoved her two prisoners roughly through the door and slammed it shut behind them. The door closed with a solid bang of finality and the agents could hear a hissing as it sealed itself tight. There was no knob or button to open it from this side. Unless they wanted to stay here for the rest of their lives, they would have to move forward.
They were in a bare, iron corridor fifteen meters long. Lighting panels overhead gave but feeble illumination. At the far end was another door. That was their only alternative. Jules shrugged. "No point in staying here," he said. and led his wife to the door at the other end.
The corridor itself was chilly, but they were unprepared for the shock of freezing air that blasted them as they opened the far door. They closed their eyes and covered their faces with their hands to protect them from the stinging cold of Gastonia's weather. They realized that the fur parkas, which they had thought were quite warm inside the garrison, would be scant protection here on this frozen planet.
After a few seconds of adjustment, they moved out through the doorway, and the door closed automatically behind them. There was no way to open it from this side; they were now irrevocably committed to life on Gastonia and all that implied. "I hope we know what we're doing," Yvonne muttered under her breath; Jules beside her nodded imperceptibly. Self-doubt could hardly be avoided under these circumstances, but at the same time they knew that they had risked their very lives before on longer gambles and come out successfully, No one, after all, had promised them a job without hazards.
Behind them, the blank iron wall rose ten meters high, towering well above their heads. The administrative garrison had been built with its back to a series of mountains to forestall attacks from the rear. The high wall prevented attacks from the front. As far as the official records went, there had never been a successful escape from Gastonia in its more than one hundred and fifty year history as a prison world. Yet somehow a woman named Karla Jost had managed it without anyone's knowing and how many others as well? That was what the d'Alemberts were here to find out-and to stop, by any means whatsoever.
"If you want a ride to the village," said a sour voice, "you'd better move along. I ain't got all day."
The d'Alemberts turned from their perusal of the garrison behind them to study the man who had spoken. He was an older man, possibly in his middle to late forties, with a bushy beard and a craggy, weather-lined face. He was dressed in a fur parka similar to their own, but his boots were fur-lined and wrapped tightly about shins and ankles. He stood beside a handmade sleigh that was harnessed to a large, powerful quadruped. The animal was covered by a thick coat of shaggy gray fur and sported two pairs of wicked-looking horns, but otherwise appeared quite placid as it stood hitched to the sleigh awaiting its master's orders.
"Who are you?" Vonnie asked.
"Name's Zolotin. I drive new arrivals to the village-unless you prefer to walk."
"How far is it?" Jules asked.
"Five kilometers. Make up your minds quick."
There was really little decision involved. Walking that distance on Gastonia when they were unaccustomed to the severe climate would have been almost suicidal. "We'll ride, thank you," Jules said, starting toward the back of the sleigh.
Zolotin moved to interpose his body between Jules and the sleigh. "Fare's fifteen slugs apiece."
"Huh? Oh." Jules looked down at the coins he'd been holding since the guard gave them to him. All were of brass, of different sizes and shapes, but without any markings to distinguish the denominations. "Which of these is what?" Jules asked the man.
Zolotin looked disdainfully at the collection in Jules's hand. "The small round ones is one, medium round ones is five, large round ones is ten, triangles is fifty, squares is a hundred. Hexagonals is a thousand, but you won't be seeing many of them for a while." He chuckled at his private little joke.
The d'Alemberts took a quick stock of their "wealth," and computed that they had nine hundred slugs between them. They
had no idea what prices were like in the village, but thirty slugs did not seem an outrageous fee for "cab fare." Carefully they parceled out the indicated coins and paid Zolotin what he demanded. Only then did the man let them climb in the back of his sleigh and, with a crack of his small whip, he drove his animal forward.
"What kind of an animal is that?" Vonnie asked, hoping to start a conversation.
"It's called a yagi."
The yagi was plodding at a pace somewhat faster than Yvonne could have crawled. "Doesn't it move any faster than this?"
"Maybe if there was a fire behind it or a female yagi in front. Why'? You in some kind of a hurry''"
Yvonne blushed. She was used to fast-paced environments; Gastonia was obviously a place where people conserved as much of their energy as possible just to keep warm. What reason could there be for hurrying around'? No one was really going anywhere.
Seeing his wife's embarrassment, Jules stepped into the conversational gap. "I imagine there must be some kind of rules for living here."
"Sure," Zolotin said. "You do what the mayor tells you and you don't make no trouble. Most of all, you never ask anybody what their life was like before they came here. If you do those things, you'll probably live a while."
"Who is the mayor?" Jules asked. "One of the Governor's men?"
Zolotin gave a derisive snort. "The Governor don't have much to do with us, or us with him. Right now the mayor is a man named Kwame Tshombase. The farther you stay from him, the longer you'll live."
