Island Worlds (15 page)

"Thor here can fill me in on what he's read during my next voyage. He's coming along on the
Sisyphus
." Oh, I can, can I? Thor thought. Presumptuous, arrogant bitch.

Shaw smiled slightly. "Good name for a rock-hauler. Give Thor a thorough grounding in Belt business. I have real hopes for him."

"Oh?" she said, looking Thor over again, as if trying to figure out what Shaw could possibly see in him. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"And now, I must go," Shaw said. "I'm late for a duel, a severe breach of good manners. I'll see you both in the next few months sometime."

They made their goodbyes and went on to arrange for delivery of their purchases to the
Sisyphus
. Thor found himself fantasizing about things like humiliating Shaw and leading the crew of the
Sisyphus
against Caterina. Could this be love?

SEVEN

From the writings of Martin Shaw:

It was the tragedy of the earliest phases of the space programs of the Earthly nations that the immensely valuable rewards of exploration were not immediately tangible. Most were scientific, abstract. From the beginning, the actual payback was tremendous in almost every field, but this was not easily perceived by the public. Sovereigns had always known that the commons and the nobility would grumble at the special taxes levied to outfit an expedition, but that all that would be forgotten in the general rejoicing when the ships returned, laden with gold, rare spices and slaves.

Well into the third decade of space exploration, when the rewards of the program were all-pervasive, the average citizen of America, Europe or Japan had little knowledge of the fact. The typical American, whose heart pacemaker, portable calculator, and innumerable other indispensable possessions, could never have existed without the space program, was almost always blissfully unaware of this fact. To this citizen, the space program was a waste of his taxpayer's money. The tons of hardware shot out into space seemed to bring back nothing tangible. Thus, from the earliest days, the average citizen of the democratic nations of Earth was conditioned to consider all space operations as futile, wasteful and parasitic.

The Soviet space program, needless to say, did not suffer from this problem of poor public image. The Soviet program, planned rationally and proceeding steadily while the West moved by fits and starts, suffered from other problems. The Soviets were always technologically backward compared to the West and suffered from shortages of all resources. Some of the backwardness could be remedied by pirating Western technology, but never enough. Most fatally, the huge bulk of the Soviet economy was enslaved to their military machine, and Soviet scientists had a continually more difficult struggle in wresting even a minimal budget away from the military. The result was to concentrate on those aspects of space exploitation that were of military significance. (see the authors
"Nekrasov's Tunguska Bomb—The True Story"
)

The same fatal link between space scientists and the military took place in the West. As the heady exhilaration of the early space flights wore off and the populace demanded to see results they could understand, space authorities fell back on the oldest of pleas—national security. If funding could not be had for mere science, perhaps people would vote the money if it made them feel safer. The military, always looking for a new area in which to extend its influence, was glad to oblige. The early U.S. space shuttle program almost certainly would not have existed had the military establishment not supported it, insisting that it was essential to the national defense. Appalled, many serious space scientists watched as more and more of the space program passed into the hands of the military. And the military had no interest in space beyond the orbital phase. The military was interested in looking in only one direction -down. When the Moon became militarily important, it, too, came under military observation.

In the democratic countries the fighting for government money became more and more brutal as resources dwindled and immigration from the Third World strained available social services. In many countries, space establishment was lumped together with the military as the enemy in the battle for government handouts.
(from the foreword to "The Great Schism—Motherworld vs. the Outerworlds")

The earliest entrepreneurs of free enterprise in space were not, to be sure, the most reputable of specimens. But then, in the history of Earthly exploration, it was seldom the comfortable, successful middle class who pioneered in the new frontiers. The trails were broken by desperate men and adventurers—the ruined sons of the nobility, turned-out soldiers from recent wars and men one step ahead of a hangman's noose. The first European presence in the New World was not that of courtiers or merchants or professors from Oxford or the Sorbonne. It was conquistadores and buccaneers. China was opened to the West by opium smugglers and Africa by slavers. India was subdued by a mercenary army owned by the British East India Company.

The early free enterprisers in space were of much the same mold. Luckily for all our souls and consciences, there were no natives in the solar system to be brutalized, enslaved or murdered en masse as so often in the past. If the free traders and explorers of space were not as brutal and murderous as conquistadores and buccaneers, they very much resembled the hard-driving Yankee clipper-ship captains and crews of the nineteenth century, undertaking insanely perilous voyages in tiny, fragile ships for the sake of high profits and the sheer, exhilarating adventure of breaking new ground.

Many of those who pooled their resources to buy cast-off government spacecraft and go exploring were persons that the authorities were not sorry to see the last of. Beset with constant crises, Earth had little room for adventurers. As always when adventure beckoned, young men out to prove their manhood contrived to find a way onto a ship. In the age of liberation, young women took the same course for the first time in history. Many an independent skipper, after carefully looking the other way on leaving Luna, found that there was a "stowaway" on board; a boy or girl from some high-school expedition. Coincidentally, rations were always available for such a newcomer, and very little else except a great deal of hard labor. Great were the protests from parents', teachers' and humanitarian groups, but to no avail. Many of the most famous skippers and settlers got their starts as runaways.

Perhaps the most famous of the early entrepreneurs was the legendary Ugo Ciano, who got the jump on everybody by being fabulously wealthy before he began his independent operations in trans-lunar space. Unlike most such businessmen, who are far more interested in protecting their wealth than in high-risk capital venture, Ciano spent his capital like water, seemingly uncaring whether any profit was realized or not, as long as the cause of Man in space was advanced. He was a constant trial to his partner Ian McNaughton, a cautious, canny businessman if ever there was one. Luckily, Ciano had a Midas touch and most of his ventures paid off handsomely.

He was also a trial to his closest friend, Samuel Taggart, commandant of the Space Marine Corps. Along with his inordinate genius, Ciano had a corresponding lack of any respect for the laws of Man or God. A true Nietzchean
Übermann
, Ciano blithely waved all such considerations aside as irrelevant. In his seeming amorality, Ciano probably did mankind more good than all the "humanitarians" in history. Anecdotes abound.

When Ciano needed some geologists and other scientists for his first voyage to the asteroids, he simply went to the nearest source of supply—the Soviet Lunar scientific station at Khruschevgrad. He spirited away the entire staff without the boring formality of consulting with the Soviet government. He was the only man ever condemned to death in absentia by the U.N., with all the non-capital-punishment nations voting. He considered a lengthy criminal record to be an asset when hiring skippers and crews, but he financed the first cathedral on the Moon entirely out of his private funds. When he learned that Europharmaceuticals Inc. were keeping the supply of their carcinogen-suppressant drug artificially low in order to maximize profit, he put his orbiting laboratories on a crash program to develop afar more effective drug. The cost was enormous, as the drug could only be manufactured in freefall under the most stringent conditions. Ciano then flooded the Earth market with it, at a price so low that even the poorest cancer victims could afford it. It did not bother him at all that the World Medical Cooperative saw to it that he got no credit for the revolutionary treatment. He had set out to destroy Europharmaceuticals and he had succeeded.

Ciano could be a fearsome enemy, but he never acted out of petty motivations or spite. When he took aim at a person or organization, rest assured that they had richly earned disaster. He had a reputation as a ruthless competitor, but he believed in competition so strongly that he often bailed out bankrupt competitors just to let them have another shot at him. Fanatically loyal to his friends, he would give anyone a break, once. He could not stand to be praised or even thanked for his generosity, but any who betrayed his trust were never heard from again.

Ciano was one of the most mercurial, contradictory personalities in all of history. Generous and ruthless, ferocious and kindly, crude and chivalrous, he had three qualities which remained constant throughout his long life: he was loyal, he was courageous, and he would not tolerate injustice. He was, perhaps, the prototype of the ideal spacer. Legends grow up around such men, and he was no exception. The circumstances of his death are as mysterious as his origin. As always, there are those who say he never died.
(from "Saints and Rogues: The Free Spacers" by Martin Shaw)

One rule of politics is as rigid as any law of physics: Those who protest most vehemently at government money being used for a space venture will always be the first to demand "their fair share" of the profits when it is successful.
(from "The Loony Bin: A History of Space Funding" by Martin Shaw)

"Hey, Thor!"

Thor looked up from the holographic game he was playing with Ortega. Two years in
Sisyphus
had left their marks on his face. The Mexican took advantage of his momentary distraction to wipe out all his warships. "Pay me!" Ortega exulted. Automatically, Thor handed over the credits while he sought the source of the hail in the crowded room. Then he saw a bulky form sailing across the chamber, brushing aside dozens of floating miners and freighters. Thor grinned as he recognized the ugly face with a large scar across the left cheek. The man looked like a cross between a fighting Pict and a marauding Viking. His red hair and beard were braided and his bare arms were ringed with the rare precious metals and gems sometimes found in the asteroids.

"Sean Roalstad!" Thor called. "When did the
Odin
get in?"

"Got me a new ship," Roalstad said. "Named her the
Longship
. I turned the
Odin
over to my boy, Loki. It's time he had his own command. Here, have one." He had been trailing a string of balloon-like spheres and Thor and Ortega took one each. They punctured the balloons with straws and began to suck out the beer. "Jesus, Thor, where'd you get that?" Roalstad pointed his chin at the red new scar that slanted from Thor's right ear almost to the corner of his mouth.

"We got hit by boosters just after we finished taking on highgrade at L-505. Some son of a bitch got me alongside the face with a knife before we drove them out of the ship. They didn't shut the door before they left, either. Good thing Josue here, and Patrice were suited up. They got us into rescue bubbles before we croaked. Had bends for a week as it was."

"Any idea who they were?"

"No, they were all in pressure suits. We know who gave them the time and coordinates, though. Two miners on L-505 named Chang and Youssoupov disappeared with the boosters when they cut out. Those two are dead men if I ever find them. We put their likenesses and specs on the KOS net."

"I'll scan it first chance I get," Roalstad said. The Kill On Sight net was universally respected in the lawless, courtless far reaches of the outerworlds. "Won't do much good, though. They'll be back in circulation in a month with new looks and new names." Plastic surgery clinics asked few questions. "You still with the
Sisyphus
?"

Thor nodded as he scanned the chamber. Delos was a small asteroid with a convenient location, where freighters auctioned their cargoes to refiners. Most of all, it was a way station, providing R&R for spacers on lengthy voyages. Here they could relieve the long, tedious hours in space with conviviality and gossip and do a little business on the side. His expression didn't change, but his heart beat a little faster when he saw Cat crossing the chamber.

"I got a good price for the highgrade," she said without preamble. "Almost double the usual shares for everybody. There was also a summons for me at the message center. We're heading back for Avalon."

"I thought we had to pick up a load at Z-221," Ortega said.

"It'll have to wait. We'll go out later with an extra hold. This is from the family. The whole Clan's gathering for an emergency session. Don't ask me what." She handed a broad envelope to Thor. "This came here a couple of months ago from Luna. It's been chasing you around for a while."

Puzzled, Thor took the envelope and broke the seal. Inside were several printout sheets clipped together. On top was a news printout.

Washington—President Jameson, in an unprecedented move, declared outlaw the so-called Humanity for a Future information network. In a statement to the press, Attorney General Percival Meeks called the underground information net "traitors to our President personally, and traitors to the United States of America and all of the human race." Blanket arrests were ordered for the network's financier, Robert Ciano, and all local operators. "This fifth column trafficking with our enemies must be nipped in the bud," said the President. "Better that freedom of information be slightly abridged, than that the offworld powers should have the aid of this nest of traitors in our midst."

Scrawled at the bottom of the clipping, in vermilion ink, was a short message. "Needless to say, I split. Living in Armstrong now. Sorry about the next part. Luck, Chih' Chin Fu."

Thor passed the clipping around. "So we're the enemy now," said Sean. "It's official. That's all right. I never had any use for Earthies anyway."

"What in hell are the 'offworld powers'?" Caterina said. "Us? We may be offworld, but a power we ain't. We're the most disorganized mass of humanity in existence."

Thor was reading the next page, a handwritten note in beautiful, feminine calligraphy:

Dear Mr. Taggart:

A few days ago, Mr. Robert Ciano showed up at the Hilton. He told us who he was, but not to use his real name because the police were after him. Cousin Chih' Chin confirmed this. He threw wild parties for everybody and was always dodging police raids. They had orders to shoot him, if you can believe that, but we kept him hidden. In the middle of one party, he quite cheerfully informed us that the g-forces of his clandestine flight from Earth had fatally strained his heart and he had only two or three more days to live. The next day, he bought a surface suit and a buggy with four days worth of air and he drove out through the number five lock.