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Authors: Vaughn Heppner
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gave him more energy. He checked the wall clock. Thirty hours he’d been here. Could he go ten days?
“Pump,” he whispered.
He did.
At thirty-one hours, a final numbing fog came over Marten. Just a little longer , he told himself.
Then a thud, a shiver, shook the room and shook the cylinder. Marten blinked, wondering what had happened. The doctors, nurses and interns looked alarmed and pointed at the ceiling. Marten glanced up. He didn’t understand what caused their concern. Miraculously, the water falling onto his head slowed. It slowed and became a trickle. The trickle stopped. Marten didn’t understand. He didn’t need too. He simply collapsed and fell asleep.
He woke to the sound of interns removing the stopper. Groggily he looked up. They lowered hooks. He grabbed hold and they lifted him.
Major Orlov brooded at the bottom of the platform. Red-uniformed PHC thugs stood beside her.
“This is highly unusual,” the doctor told her.
Major Orlov glared at him. The doctor fidgeted with his clipboard
An intern draped a tunic over Marten. The thugs each grabbed an arm and marched him out of the auditorium and down a hall. Marten could barely walk. The muscles in his back, shoulders and arms had frozen. The thugs deposited him in the interrogation room with the bench. This time, however, Stick wasn’t there. The two held him up. Otherwise, he’d simply have fallen over.
“Your time runs short, Mr. Kluge.”
Marten wasn’t sure, but Major Orlov sounded desperate. A spark of something bade him keep his mouth shut.
“Give me your agonizer.”
Incredibly, the thug seemed reluctant. But at this point, Marten couldn’t be sure about anything.
Major Orlov twisted the setting and touched the agonizer to his chest. Marten bellowed and fell backward.
“I have decided to accelerate the process,” said the major.
The two thugs picked Marten off the floor and set him back on the bench. Smiles twitched across their lips.
Major Orlov lowered the agonizer for another touch. Marten squirmed as they held him tight.
“Well, Mr. Kluge?”
Marten stared at the agonizer. It moved closer, closer—
The door opened, and a guard said, “You’re needed, Major.”
Major Orlov hesitated. Then she tossed the agonizer to a thug. She glared at Marten and hurried out of the room.
After several moments, the red-uniformed PHC men moved to the door. They whispered urgently together. Somewhere outside a klaxon blared. Marten lay down on the bench. They didn’t say anything about it. So he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
9.
Months away from Earth in terms of space travel time—Tanaka Station orbited blue Neptune. Vast cargo ships circled this commercial clearinghouse. In the distance, a fat ice-skimmer worked its way up from the blue mass of the gas giant.
The Ice Hauler Cartel, which owned much of the Neptune System, also owed Tanaka Station. The habitat was run on strict capitalist lines. The general principle of the Solar System seemed to be that the farther one left the Inner Planets behind the purer became the capitalism. Unfortunately, for a first class-rated space pilot from Jupiter, this “pureness” came as a shock.
Osadar Di huddled miserably in a bar close to the docking bay where she’d berthed her ship. The owner of the vessel had just departed, leaving her in a dim cubicle. She held onto a beer, but she hadn’t sipped it. Around her in the packed bar mingled pilots, dockworkers, sex objects and gamblers. It was different from the Jupiter Confederation where she’d been born and raised, and only recently fled. The bar was like a caricature of an Old Asteroid Mining vid she’d watched as a child. The pilots and gamblers played cards, cheating, drinking and getting into fistfights. In other cubicles, shady deals were being hatched and nefarious plots conceived.
Osadar Di had short dark hair, dark worried eyes and an unremarkable nose. On the tallish side, she had long shapely legs in a
“Pump,” he whispered.
He did.
At thirty-one hours, a final numbing fog came over Marten. Just a little longer , he told himself.
Then a thud, a shiver, shook the room and shook the cylinder. Marten blinked, wondering what had happened. The doctors, nurses and interns looked alarmed and pointed at the ceiling. Marten glanced up. He didn’t understand what caused their concern. Miraculously, the water falling onto his head slowed. It slowed and became a trickle. The trickle stopped. Marten didn’t understand. He didn’t need too. He simply collapsed and fell asleep.
He woke to the sound of interns removing the stopper. Groggily he looked up. They lowered hooks. He grabbed hold and they lifted him.
Major Orlov brooded at the bottom of the platform. Red-uniformed PHC thugs stood beside her.
“This is highly unusual,” the doctor told her.
Major Orlov glared at him. The doctor fidgeted with his clipboard
An intern draped a tunic over Marten. The thugs each grabbed an arm and marched him out of the auditorium and down a hall. Marten could barely walk. The muscles in his back, shoulders and arms had frozen. The thugs deposited him in the interrogation room with the bench. This time, however, Stick wasn’t there. The two held him up. Otherwise, he’d simply have fallen over.
“Your time runs short, Mr. Kluge.”
Marten wasn’t sure, but Major Orlov sounded desperate. A spark of something bade him keep his mouth shut.
“Give me your agonizer.”
Incredibly, the thug seemed reluctant. But at this point, Marten couldn’t be sure about anything.
Major Orlov twisted the setting and touched the agonizer to his chest. Marten bellowed and fell backward.
“I have decided to accelerate the process,” said the major.
The two thugs picked Marten off the floor and set him back on the bench. Smiles twitched across their lips.
Major Orlov lowered the agonizer for another touch. Marten squirmed as they held him tight.
“Well, Mr. Kluge?”
Marten stared at the agonizer. It moved closer, closer—
The door opened, and a guard said, “You’re needed, Major.”
Major Orlov hesitated. Then she tossed the agonizer to a thug. She glared at Marten and hurried out of the room.
After several moments, the red-uniformed PHC men moved to the door. They whispered urgently together. Somewhere outside a klaxon blared. Marten lay down on the bench. They didn’t say anything about it. So he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
9.
Months away from Earth in terms of space travel time—Tanaka Station orbited blue Neptune. Vast cargo ships circled this commercial clearinghouse. In the distance, a fat ice-skimmer worked its way up from the blue mass of the gas giant.
The Ice Hauler Cartel, which owned much of the Neptune System, also owed Tanaka Station. The habitat was run on strict capitalist lines. The general principle of the Solar System seemed to be that the farther one left the Inner Planets behind the purer became the capitalism. Unfortunately, for a first class-rated space pilot from Jupiter, this “pureness” came as a shock.
Osadar Di huddled miserably in a bar close to the docking bay where she’d berthed her ship. The owner of the vessel had just departed, leaving her in a dim cubicle. She held onto a beer, but she hadn’t sipped it. Around her in the packed bar mingled pilots, dockworkers, sex objects and gamblers. It was different from the Jupiter Confederation where she’d been born and raised, and only recently fled. The bar was like a caricature of an Old Asteroid Mining vid she’d watched as a child. The pilots and gamblers played cards, cheating, drinking and getting into fistfights. In other cubicles, shady deals were being hatched and nefarious plots conceived.
Osadar Di had short dark hair, dark worried eyes and an unremarkable nose. On the tallish side, she had long shapely legs in a
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