The Salvagers (11 page)

Chapter 14     Day 239

             
"December 20, 2259. Log of Captain John Andrew Nelson, Commanding Officer, UNAG Mining Vessel
Cape Hatteras
. We have altered our orbit in order to focus on the stony side of the asteroid. I have dispatched crewmen Marquez and Galon to the surface to collect science data and samples."

              The tone of Ed Iron's reply was angry, but it was more of a vent than anything else. He understood that there wasn't much I could have done. But without the gold exhibiting the
Cape Hatteras
and cashing in the few bricks left on it wouldn't come close to covering the cost of the expedition. He stood to lose a great deal of money if I didn't retrieve most of the gold, and I was already certain that the Smithsonian would sue when I delivered a pancaked hull instead of an intact probe.

             
Wandering around New San Francisco made me realize that my plan wasn't as clear-cut as I had envisioned. I had expected a population of law-skirting hooligans, but really they were just independent people looking to live apart from Earth and its trappings. If we were going to find the kind of people we needed, our last chance was Europa's only tavern. It was called the
Naughty Venus
.

             
Going in there involved stepping through a shifting barrier of smoke. It was so thick you could have cut it with a mining laser. But it wasn't just smoke from Europa's more famous crop. It was also tobacco. The health issues surrounding tobacco had long been solved, but it had never recovered the prominence it once had on Earth. On Europa they smoked it proudly. My throat was burning, so I ordered one of the local beers, taking care to read the ingredients.

             
I looked around the
Naughty Venus
. The view wasn't encouraging. A group of 20-somethings hovered around the bar to avoid any interruption in the flow of booze. Some older men sat at one of the tables, their beards and ponytails bobbing in the low gravity as they opined about the recent pirate raid for lack of any weather to complain about. I overheard one say that if they lost another crop the colony would be finished, and the UNAG would have to assume direct rule.

             
I figured that springing for a round might break the ice.

             
"Hey, human," said one. "Thanks for the bubbles."

             
Europans referred to anyone from anywhere else as "humans," as though we were a separate species.

             
"You're welcome. We're here from Earth on business," I responded.

             
"Never been there! I'm the first true Europan, born here in 2441," he said.

             
For someone about age 20 he looked scrawny from the low-gravity upbringing. He probably couldn't have visited Earth without breaking bones.

             
"Cool," I said, hoping to sound hip by using a 500-year-old colloquialism.

             
"Heh, yeah, frozen," he said with a chuckle.

             
I glanced at Neil to take over, and he launched into the slang of the day. It was incomprehensible to anyone over 30. From what I understand, body movements are just as important as the nonsense words.

             
"Far, Europan, you know the plantation," Neil said, holding his right arm high above his head.

             
"Yar, human, mang. Tonto and Grandpa do tha' mix," replied the Europan.

             
I had no idea what they were saying, and neither did Stacey. I assumed that I was "Grandpa."

             
"Oldie. Melon-good, but mang, Tonto udewatch, sour t'itch," Neil said. The Europan chuckled, and then they fluttered their hands at each other.

             
"Hey!" Stacey caught on. "What's this "sour" you're talking about?"

             
"Melon?" I asked.

             
"What?" said Neil. "I told him you were nice. It's, like, opposite meanings."

             
They ignored me and continued stringing words and gesticulations together that made them look like drunken dancers. In the end they simply appeared to be whistling at each other and on the brink of kissing when Neil turned to me as the Europan abruptly bounced away.

             
"Did you offend him?" I asked.

             
"No. Mission accomplished!" Neil said.

             
"What do you mean mission accomplished? What the hell just happened?"

             
"He said he's got the man we need. He'll be back in a few minutes."

             
Not long afterwards the Europan returned with the Mayor and Sister Mary Joanna in tow.  She waved with a giggle.

             
"Why didn't you tell me you needed someone stomped?" he asked, as though that were a perfectly normal thing to say.

             
"We don't need anyone stomped, Reverend. We need to get our property back," I said, mindful that he was still a government official of sorts.

             
"What kind of property? You aren't smuggling plant products are you? We'd have a problem if you are. We can barely survive pirates, much less competitors."

             
"No, nothing like that. Just salvage from a wrecked cargo ship."

             
"Ahhhh, salvagers. Little better than pirates, your lot are."

             
"Not us. We're doing it legally. It's some of the other salvagers who create a problem and give us all a bad name."

             
The Mayor sighed and looked at me suspiciously. "I suppose we know a lot about acquiring bad names here on Europa. Tell me what happened. No lies, no deflections, just spill it all if you want real help, instead of that. . . ," he said, as he pointed out a window framing crazy Randy, who was bending over and poking at some gooey stain on the street and chuckling at it.

             
"We wrapped up work on a ship. . . ."

             
"Which ship?"

             
"A cargo ship lost 50 years ago called the . . .
Cape Canaveral.
A salvager by the name of Finley Pace made off with our haul. The skipper of our salvor was in on it." I wasn't lying. I simply made an error in geography.

             
"I see, I see. And what sort of haul was it?"

             
"Scrap metal," I said. I was still not lying: gold
is
a metal and can be
called
scrap.

             
"Scrap metal, you say. It wasn't, by chance,
gold
scrap metal was it?"

             
"We wish! Just aluminum and advanced alloys," I said. Now I was lying.

             
He looked at me in silence for a moment, rubbing his beard. "I see. Well, that Finley character passed through here some months ago. He claimed he was looking for the
Cape Hatteras
. I've heard that one before. I told him the damned thing probably either didn't exist or has drifted halfway to Alpha Centauri by now. I guess he failed and made the best of it by robbing you."

             
"Must be, but my investor wants the goods back. The advanced alloys were of substantial value to him. He builds habitat domes and is always short on raw materials. I need people and ships to intercept the thieves when they pass through this system. It will be sometime within the next two weeks."

             
"I can help," said the Mayor. "My ship is in direct orbit of Jupiter watching for pirates. It's fast, and I've armed it to the teeth. It'll be more than a match for a couple of salvors. Of course, that's assuming you're willing to pay well for the service."

             
I didn't tell him about Finley's ram.

             
"Would $100,000 UNAG dollars be sufficient?"

             
"I'd need $200,000. I've got a large crew to pay, and I need a confidentiality agreement in writing. I don't want it broadcast that the Mayor of New San Francisco moonlights as a mercenary."

             
"Done."

             
We made our way through town to his office. Sister Mary Joanna wrote up a contract in triplicate, handing it to us with a squeal.

             
"Meet me in two days at Io. I'll be in a polar orbit at an altitude of 4000 kilometers," the Mayor said, signing the contract.

             
"Does anyone else here have a fast ship? I'd like to have some backup."

             
"It’s just me at the moment. Most people don't need them. Our transports are old and slow but very reliable. Especially when Randy pilots them," he said facetiously.

             
Having only one ship worried me, but the Mayor was confident that his vessel had the speed and overwhelming force needed to defeat Finley. We were left with extra time to see the rest of the city. Neil and Stacey had heard about a low-G swimming pool across town and wanted to try it.

             
The Mayor offered to have someone show me the agriculture domes, an offer I readily accepted since I didn't want to admit to Neil and Stacey that their salty old captain couldn't swim. I was met at the fountain an hour later by a young man named Bobby. He looked like something from
20th
-century Earth, complete with dreadlocks and beads. He ushered me into the tiered gardens rising hundreds of feet in the air and nurtured by an artificial sun. Vegetables and the cash crop were intermingled. The strong scent of the plants overwhelmed my nostrils, which were too accustomed to the sterile smell of technology and freeze-dried rations.

             
Europa might have had a reputation for skirting the law, but seeing it in person made it seem like a paradise.

Chapter 15
    
Cloak and Dagger

              "December 21, 2259. 0700 hours. Log of Captain John Andrew Nelson, Commanding Officer, UNAG Mining Vessel
Cape Hatteras
. Marquez and Galon have reached the surface. They report an alien landscape of porous spires of rock reaching a hundred feet skyward. A chain of small mountains lies a short distance away. I have instructed the men to explore them."

              Later that afternoon I went to find Stacey and Neil. The swimming was apparently more than they could stomach, and the water was so salty that their clothes had dried stiff. They were desperate for a mist shower, so we cut our exploration short and made our way back to the hotel. A half-hearted hello to Reeda was all any of us could muster.

             
I collapsed in slow motion onto the bed. I had been walking most of the day, or rather bouncing, and the prospect of a nap was sublime. No sooner had I hit the pillow than I heard a knock and the sound of paper sliding beneath the door. I had a look outside, but no one was there. I retrieved the note.

             
"Beware the captain of the
Neptune's Revenge
," it said in a sexy female voice.

             
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked the digipaper.

             
"Beware the captain of the
Neptune's Revenge
," it repeated, before flashing a grainy human memory-based picture of the Mayor.

             
I was more excited about getting a secret spy note than I was by what it contained. I already knew that I couldn't trust the Mayor. I folded the note away and took a long mist shower, thinking the whole time about my first real brush with cloak-and-dagger stuff. I hadn't a clue about who had sent the warning.

             
I had little chance of getting any rest, so after fortifying myself with three closed-top cups of coffee I collected Neil and Stacey with the intention of making our way back to the
Amaranth Sun
. They might have been better rested than I was, but neither of them looked well. That must have been one hell of a bad swim.

             
"Where are you all off to in such a hurry?" Reeda asked as we entered the lobby with our baggage.

             
"I hate to check out," I said. "I really hate it, sweetheart. I could stay here for eternity and enjoy your cooking."

             
"You're always welcome back," Reeda replied. "Next time I'll even give you a discount. I'd give you one now, but I have something worth more: advice. My grandson told me that you were looking for unsavory types in that terrible bar earlier. He brought you the worst one he could think of: Mayor Stunt. He showed up here just after the pirate attack and got himself elected by promising to drive them away if they ever came back. He's no good otherwise. He feeds on everyone's fears, and now he's trying to get us into some kind of weird religion he's cooked up. I can see it coming: next he'll want donations. Crooked as an ice crack on Ganymede, that man. If you're going to have dealings with him, watch him closely."

             
"Did you send the note?" I asked.

             
"What note?"

             
"Someone slipped a note under my door. It said as much."

             
"There was no one here, sweet tarpotch. I've been in the lobby all day. Your friends must be playing tricks on you."

             
"Must be. Don't you worry. We'll watch our backs," I said as we bounced out the door.

             
An awful lot of negativity surrounded the Mayor. I passed the note around to the others, who puzzled over who could have sent it. Stacey thought it had to be the grandson, but I was skeptical. Even though he did seem a little odd, why would he use a sexy female voice?

             
I was starting to think I might have made a mistake. We had no idea of how trustworthy Reverend Stunt was. I wasn't even certain what kind of ship he owned. I regretted not having asked more questions. On the other hand, the contract stipulated that payment was due upon completion of the mission. So what could go wrong?

             
We wended our way back to the reception dome in order to arrange a tender back to the
Amaranth Sun
. We'd have made it in under ten minutes if we had gone straight there, but we didn't. Instead, we stopped at the trading post to grab a few extra provisions and a supply of tarpotch steaks. Somewhere between the trading post and the reception dome everything went black.

             
I woke up face down on the floor with a tremendous headache. Neil and Stacey were still out cold, sprawled across the floor in the center of a poorly lit, windowless room. It was circular with a sliding door that had no handles. It was like a prison cell. Half an hour later my companions started to rouse, and just then the door opened.

             
"Come with me, Mr. Hunter," a man said as he stepped into the room. He was UNAG military, with the uniform and insignia of a lieutenant.

             
"Which one?" Neil asked.

             
"The old one. The rest of you stay here."

             
I didn't say a word. I knew that something was very wrong. I was certain that the Mayor had turned us in for planning to attack Finley's ship. I followed the officer down a corridor to await formal charges.

             
"Captain Masterson wishes to see you," he said.

             
"Are we under arrest?"

             
"Not yet."

             
"What does that mean?"

             
"It means not yet."

             
"Can we leave?"

             
"Theoretically, but it isn't practical."

             
I kept quiet as we negotiated our way through wherever I was. I could have been out for days. It occurred to me that we might not even be on Europa anymore. The UNAG colony on Callisto had a reputation for tough law enforcement, but Callisto was bigger than Europa, and I should have felt slightly heavier. Then I noticed something else that seemed strange: the floor was moving. I felt unsure of my step. I guessed that the sensation might have been from the drugs they had knocked me out with, but even the construction didn't look right for a colony. It was cramped and compact like a ship. My hand brushed against a wall. It felt warm, whereas space imparts cold on the walls of a ship. Another pair of doors opened onto a bridge. A man I assumed to be Captain Masterson was standing in the center.

             
"Welcome, Mr. Hunter. It's a pleasure to meet you. Imagine meeting the man who found the legendary
Cape Hatteras
. I'm Captain Laurens Masterson, and you are aboard the UNAG submarine
Lancaster
," he said, bouncing over and shaking my hand with a firm and confident grip.

             
"Submarine?"

             
"Yes, under the ice of Europa."

             
"Under the ice? What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.

             
"Monitoring the drug dealers above, of course. Did you think Earth wouldn't have a presence here? This is
our
colony."

             
"How did you get this thing down here?"

             
"We melted a hole on the far side of Europa and dropped it in from space. We're not the only ones. The Asian-African Union also has a submarine here. We shadow each other and play our little games. We even cooperate occasionally."

             
"How long have you been here?"

             
"Approximately five years. Of course, seeing this obligates you to secrecy. I'm afraid you can't tell your companions."

             
"My lips are sealed," I said, not wanting to push the issue. "Are my people alright and safe? What did you use to sedate us?"

             
"It's perfectly safe. Just a sleep agent. They've already been sedated again."

             
"How the hell did you know about the
Cape Hatteras
?"

             
"We knew you'd find it before you did, Captain Hunter. We
are
the UNAG."

             
"You were tracking me?"

             
"We track everyone."

             
"Forgive me, Captain, but I'm thoroughly confused. Why am I here?"

             
"Quite simply, Mr. Hunter, we want to help you get your treasure back."

             
"For what price?" I asked instinctively.

             
"No price at all. Well, other than the taxes you already intended to pay, I'm sure. And one other thing."

             
"And that would be?"

             
"Private access to the
Cape Hatteras
for two days."

             
"What for?"

             
"It's classified, " he said.

             
"Before we go any further, how did you know we found the
Cape Hatteras
? Did you know where it was?"

             
"I wasn't lying. We knew that you were going to find that ship."

             
"What do you mean?" Spying was their business, but they'd have to have been psychic to see that one. I wasn't looking for it when we blundered across it.

             
"The UNAG has always known where the
Cape Hatteras
was. We saw you getting close to it. You gave our tracking staff in Montreal quite a laugh when you nearly passed by it. Imagine missing the biggest treasure in the solar system," he said with a chuckle.

             
"Why didn't you salvage it yourselves?"

             
"It's classified."

             
I instantly worried that Masterson might tell me that I wasn't the legal owner of the derelict.

             
"You knew all that gold was there, and you didn't bother to get it?"

             
"That's correct. I can't say why. I may not even know why. But I can tell you that the last thing the UNAG wants is for that much wealth to go to the outer solar system, untaxed, possibly to be used against us. All of the unions agree on that issue."

             
At least that made some sense. If they didn't want the gold, and they didn't want the ship, then I didn't see a problem with their plan. It seemed potentially well worth it if they were going to offer help. Even so, I wondered what they could possibly want aboard a 200-year-old ship that they could have visited whenever they wanted.

             
"What do you propose?" I asked.

             
"We know that you are about to rendezvous with the Mayor of Europa Colony."

             
"New San Francisco," I corrected him.

             
"Europa Colony. We'd like to capture him. We have an operative on his ship who has been monitoring his drug-trafficking activities."

             
"Did that operative send me a note warning about Stunt?"

             
"Yes, that was from us. If we couldn’t kidnap you, we felt obligated at least to warn you."

             
That was the nicest thing a UNAG official had ever said to me. Their usual idea of being friendly was a tax audit. I then started to wonder whether the paranormal phenomenon that Sanjay and I had experienced on the derelict had something to do with the UNAG. Maybe they had invented hallucination beams, and were trying to drive us away.

             
"We want you to make your rendezvous with Stunt as planned. Afterwards he will be out in the open where we can capture him after you're safely off his ship. Our operative will let us know if you need our assistance. Should you fail, we will set up a perimeter at Saturn to capture your gold. We have two ships in the vicinity to aid you, plus another that can act as a last resort and destroy them if they get past Saturn."

             
"Destroy them?"

             
"Last resort, Mr. Hunter. You could always salvage the gold again from a truly wrecked ship."

             
"I suppose, but. . . ."

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "You are to make your rendezvous and go with the Mayor. Then send your small ship to secure the
Cape Hatteras
and await our arrival. Two war cruisers will meet you. We will contact you after your treasure is secure."