Metal Boxes - At the Edge Page 16

Stone remembered seeing the toddler throwing the first missile at the start of the riot. He hoped the little girl had not been caught on camera. Work camps might be a euphemism for prisons. Sending a child to a work camp was wrong. He asked, “That sounds like a lot of people.”

  She shrugged, “Peacebreakers.” It was as if that phrase answered all of the questions.

  Stone thought sending people off to work in government-sponsored work camps would keep unemployment low. If you don’t work, you won’t eat. If you don’t behave, you’ll be put to work.

  Ailette said, “There is plenty of work to do at the Prophet’s spaceship factory. I prefer keeping this spaceport peaceful, so behave yourself this time. I think it’s useless to say this, but try and control Bethy before she meets the Prophet at the enclave.”

  Stone asked, “May I offer to pay the medical bills for injuries to your people?”

  She shook her head sternly, “No. Why would you—well, I can see that you really do not understand the love and power of the Prophet. We have no need of your money for such things. You’ll see tonight at the enclave.”

  Some planets had universal care with free medical to its population while others did not. Stone felt confident a theocracy would provide for its people’s health care needs.

  “You have—”

  Ailette interrupted. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  It was obvious she was done talking about the subject.

  Jay and Peebee bounded along beside them, but once they saw their destination was just a short distance away, they raced forward to a wide grassy area. They sniffed at the grass and a few decorative trees. Stone was afraid they were going to start stripping leaves and eating gulping tufts of turf. But they snorted and rolled in the grass.

  Peebee shouted to Stone, “The grass smells as funny as the sun feels strange, but they still feel good.”

  Stone glanced upward, wondering if his drascos could feel the variations in solar radiation. He was grateful the roof of their transport blocked this sun. He had stood under more than one sun and this sun felt like every other. For a young man afraid of open spaces, he was becoming quite adept at visiting other worlds. He stuck his hand out the side of their transport. The sun felt warm but no different than the heat of any other sun.

  Stone held his hand out the open window for as long as he could and then yanked it back. He stared at it, checking for burns, scars or other damage caused by the open sky. He knew without a doubt his fear of open skies was illogical. Emmons had worked with him to understand why he distrusted open air. Rational or not, he still did not like it.

  He did understand why his phobia had come crashing back after his court-martial. He felt abandoned and alone. In reality, he had not been abandoned by his family, his friends, and the UEN, and he knew Allie had his back, as did Hammermill, Tuttle, Dollish, Numos and dozens of others. He was certain Allie loved him, as did his family. Understanding it did not mean he could reconcile his thoughts with his fears.

  The drascos romping under this sun was nothing new or unusual. They had all experienced the sun on the unnamed chlorine-covered planet in Hyrocanian space, whereas he had spent the whole four days in a combat suit.

  Every sun generated light, heat, and radiation. No two suns were alike. Humans required certain types and ranges to survive and thrive. He may have wondered more about drasco capabilities, but their transport slowed to a gentle stop in front of a building, under a wide rippled aluminum awning extending many meters beyond the building itself in all directions.

  Stone asked, “Ailette, the drascos will be comfortable laying in the sun. Is it all right if they just stay outside?”

  She glanced at the people around him. “Someone going to watch them?”

  Stone shook his head. “They don’t need babysitters.”

  Nodding, she looked thoughtful. “You pay for anything they break?”

  Stone shouted, “I’m going inside to do some business. You two stay here and don’t break anything, okay?”

  Jay’s TTS blared back, “What’s to break? This is just grass. The sun feels good on our babies.” Both drascos rolled to their backs, propping their feet in the air, letting the sun warm their bellies.

  Before Stone got out of the transport, Ailette put a hand on his forearm. “Signore Stone, I must insist—at the request of the Prophet, of course—that you bring his people back.” She waved a hand to stop his interruption. “I have been assured by the Prophet himself, that those people only sought refuge from the violence and that you gave them sanctuary out of the goodness of your own heart. However, the Prophet insists they be returned before the enclave this evening.”

  Stone was not ready to admit that a few of the refugees did not want to come back, claiming they were victims of religious oppression. By law, he had to keep them aboard and transport them to civil authorities as soon as he could. He wanted to ask Doctor Emmons if causing a rift over a few refugees would help or hinder their mission, but she was not here, and she knew nothing about their true assignment. He was sure she believed something was going on, but being in the emperor’s employ for many years, she had learned not to ask, comment, or even raise an eyebrow when things went sideways.

  “I think the captain is getting people ready to attend the Prophet’s enclave this evening. My cousin should be bringing most of them down with her when she comes.”

  Chapter Thirty

  A young man stood waiting for them at the door to the building. Without a word, he led them to a small suite of offices. Five men and a woman stood for them, clustered around a huge conference table. They looked like executives from any one of a hundred worlds with soft hands and loose muscles, but cold eyes and hard lips.

  Stone smiled. There were six of them and only four on his team. Their larger number might make them more confident in negotiations, but Stone knew his team held the advantage. As near as he could calculate, his team actually outnumbered them three to one. Not that Stone expected the meeting to turn physically hostile.

  Handshakes, greetings, and introductions were directed at Stone, although most of the men and the woman could barely resist eyeing Tuttle. One of the men eyed Hammermill as if he was more appetizing than the extensive buffet set to the side.

  Hammermill and Tuttle stood at ease, bracketing the door to the conference room. They did not introduce themselves. Stone did not introduce them, after all, who introduces servants or security guards? He did point out Dollish and said only, “My assistant, Tim.”

  Dollish nodded politely and wandered over to the large display of food stacked on a credenza. He popped a small pastry in his mouth. Trying not to grimace, he covered his mouth with a napkin and spit it back out.

  Stone almost laughed when Dollish hesitantly tried a small appetizer of some kind on a tiny stick. The young man winced, but managed to chew quickly and swallow. Back on Allie’s World, Stone had watched Dollish eat a bowl of wild animal meat seasoned with dried moss scraped off the rocks in a cave. He was not a finicky eater.

  He waved at the chairs. “Shall we?” Grandpa had taken him to several business meetings when he was a youngster. Grandpa eschewed chairs. He believed that meetings ran quicker and men got to the point faster when they were on their feet. Butts in the seats tended to expand time and the size of their pants.

  Stone and the business people sat as Dollish continued sampling the food at the table. Though Grandpa was right about the chairs, he wanted these people overly comfortable and confident. Both could play to his advantage if real business came up. The purpose of the meeting was not about real business, but dragging out the reason for his being on the planet. Any delay could help Agent Ryte’s investigation.

  He adjusted his chair up a few inches, making the table feel uncomfortably low, but it allowed him to tower over the others. He smiled at everyone.

  Stone said, “For a minor and useless planet at the edge of human space, you certainly have made this a beautiful home.” Throwing out an insult and a compliment in the
same sentence as an opening negotiation tactic would make Grandpa proud. “Most colony settlements need more goods imported than they can build, though you seem to be self-sufficient on Holliman’s Rift.”

  The woman spoke, taking on the role of group leader. “We are indeed a small planet at the edge. And yes, we are a farm-based economy, but we are growing. We do hope our group and your company can expand our growth.”

  Stone smiled, “Of course. You wish to expand your economic growth and your political influence in this part of space?”

  “Influence? Why, whatever do you mean? We are here about business, not the Prophet. His influence will spread with or without whatever we decide here today.”

  Stone looked closely at the woman. He thought he saw a small smudge of dust in the corner of her eye. It rapidly disappeared into her tear duct.

  He said, “The Prophet’s sphere of influence is not my concern. What I know of him is impressive, and I hope to learn more about him.” More than I am willing to admit to this crowd. “I see that you’ve built a stable, expanding economy under his guidance. In these days, that’s an impressive feat of leadership. I believe that Stone Freight Company can help your economy grow further and faster by helping to provide goods and supplies that the Prophet—and you—haven’t been able to build for yourselves. We believe Holliman’s Rift may present enough profit that we all might benefit.”

  The woman echoed Stone’s smile, “Your grandfather must have recognized our potential when he sent you here first rather than one of a dozen other worlds at the same stage of development.”

  “Grandpa does have an eye for business.”

  “As do you, I’m sure.” The woman gave a slight nod of her head.

  Stone shrugged, “Not so much. Just between us, I hope to lean on your expertise.”

  The woman was keeping her face passive, but a glint of greed flicked in her eyes. A wave of garlic odor washed over Stone. It was thick enough to taste, but he could tell that some of the men were not motivated by excessive greed.

  She said, “We are, as you’ve said, a very self-sufficient society. We have little need of outside goods, however—”

  Dollish snorted in derision as he plopped into a chair next to Stone. “Sorry, I don’t know trade, economies, or shipping worth a darn. I do know food. If that’s the best you can do, I feel sorry for your restaurant clientele.”

  Stone put a hand on Dollish’s arm. “Now, Tim—”

  A man on the woman’s right interrupted Stone with a wave. “Your assistant is right, signore. We have a few basic restaurant chains here in the capital city, but we just don’t have the equipment and the spices necessary to provide a quality dining experience. My wife catered this display rather than rely a commercial establishment.”

  Dollish said, “I didn’t mean to insult you or your good wife, signore.”

  The man shook his head. “No insult, young man. My wife and I immigrated to Holliman’s Rift.” He glanced sideways at his companions. “Not that we regret the decision to move here. No, signore. Not one little bit. We love the Prophet and the world he’s built for us. But I used to run an entertainment consortium on Perth Four and my wife managed one of our gourmet restaurants. She is good, but cinnamon and coriander are unknown on Holliman’s Rift and our brick ovens are wood fired. It might make good pizza, but it doesn’t work well for éclairs or soufflés.”

  Stone said, “Maybe Stone Freight Company can contract with one of your companies to bring in kitchen appliances as well as spices and…what? Baking tools?”

  The woman said, “We have plenty of manufacturing capability for most of what we need.”

  The man nodded, “Yes. Of course. The Prophet is well and truly right when he says that we can make most of what we need.”

  The woman added, “It is a matter of keeping our jobs at home.”

  Stone smiled. “A wise policy, I’m sure. However…” He let the phrase hang.

  The man drew a paper from his pocket. It had been folded and refolded a dozen times. From across the table, Stone could see the paper had been scribbled on, erased, and rewritten more times than it had been folded.

  Dollish gawked at the paper. Stone was sure it was a rare sight for the young man to see actual paper instead of a digital display. They were close enough at the edge of human space that the technology to make personal assistants was not as readily available as the skills needed to make cellulose pulp sheets.

  Stone pulled his personal assistant out, scanned the document, and passed it back. “Thank you, signore. This is a list of…?” Again, he let the question hang.

  The man looked at the woman and swallowed. “Well, it is a list of some kitchen goods we can’t manufacture for ourselves yet. My company would like to see if these items are worth shipping in.”

  Stone scanned through the list, noting the large varieties of goods until Dollish grabbed the edge of his display and pulled it away from him. Stone let him read the list, while accepting a dozen other pages from the business people.

  He scanned each document and handed it back. “Some of these items will be easy to locate and transport. Would you be interested in having the Stone Freight Company act as your procurement agent as well as your shipper?”

  The woman smiled, “We would like to inquire about sending a few of our people along with you as emissaries of the Prophet to search for these goods. Your company would act as transporters only, that is if you have no objection to helping the Prophet spread his gospel and search for profit to his glory.”

  Stone laughed. “No objection whatsoever. I’m a firm believer in religious freedom. I’d like to hear more about the Prophet. I already like his policies on business. Profit is a good thing.”

  The woman laughed with him, “As is the Prophet.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Stone sat alone in the shade of the building awning at the edge of the tarmac, basking in the quiet. Chairs were scattered about, but no one else was nearby. A small group of workers sat at a picnic table in the far corner of the grassy area laughing and sharing lunches brought from home. He wondered if his presence had scared away the locals or if the small park-like area was little used. Waiting in the shade for the shuttles to transport the rest of the partygoers would be pleasant.

  He watched the spaceport security officer come across the lawn toward him. Ailette stopped a few feet away, near where Jay and Peebee were lying in the grass. Peebee appeared to be asleep. Jay casually watched the woman like she was the only thing moving besides a few leaves on the trees.

  Ailette called to him, “Signore Stone? Do your things bite?” She leaned down and looked into Jay’s face, well within biting distance.

  Before Stone could answer, Peebee wonked in laughter. She did not even open her eyes as she typed rapidly into her TTS, “I don’t bite. However, my sister has been known to chew through arms, legs, and heads.”

  Instead of backing up, Ailette leaned in closer. She held out a hand, letting Jay sniff it, then carefully patted the drasco on the top of the head. “Hunh? Strange critters. I’ve got a younger brother just like them.” She came over and sat in a chair facing Stone.

  “How is your brother like Jay and Peebee?” he asked.

  She gave a rare smile, “Too smart for their own good.”

  Tuttle came around the corner of a building and plopped into a chair next to him and Hammermill dropped into one on the other side having come from the opposite direction. The awning stretched around the building forming a shaded terrace on all sides.

  Tuttle glanced at Ailette, but reported to Stone, “Perimeter check is good. Outside restrooms are on that side.” She pointed the way she had come. “There’s a small snack bar for spaceport crew around that way, although I don’t think I’m hungry enough to try the local cuisine after what that buffet had to offer.”

  Dollish pulled up another chair. He had been following Tuttle. He waved some food at them. “This isn’t bad. Some kind of rodent on a stick. It’s a little stri
ngy, but sweet and peppery.”

  Tuttle made a gagging noise.

  Hammermill said, “Nothing around the other way except a storage shed for worker’s equipment and a lottery office.”

  Stone asked, “A lottery office?”

  Ailette’s stern face returned, “It’s close to payday. Most workers are using what disposable cash they have left over from payday to buy tickets to heaven.”

  Hammermill confirmed, “There’s a line of people buying tickets for dozens of different lotteries. I might be tempted myself since a couple of those lotteries were offering several hundred million credits to the winner, though I doubt the posted odds for winning are legit.”

  Tuttle said, “I saw that. Most of the people in line looked like local workers dropping bundles of cash.”

  Ailette nodded, “As I said, payday.”

  Since this was not a private conversation, Stone spoke carefully. “The lotteries seem to be a voluntary tax. I’m sure the Prophet isn’t taxing businesses or goods. From what we learned in our meeting, they are all about getting rich in the here and now.”

  Ailette leaned back in her chair. “Of course, getting rich is for here and now. What good does being rich later do? I’m sure the business people you met with understand that as well as the janitors and deckhands standing in that line to buy heaven-bound tickets.”

  The business meeting had ended quickly and on a good note. Stone offered free rides to wherever the Prophet wanted to send his people, as long as they promised that all products sent to Holliman’s Rift were on Stone Freight Company ships. It had been a quick meeting, but dozens of items were discussed. No contracts were signed, but the Holliman’s Rift business people had a long wish list.

  Stone asked, “May I ask about your vision of heaven?”

  Ailette held up a finger in the universal “give me a minute” sign. She held a hand to her ear, glanced at Stone, and said, “Sure. Send ‘em on.” She sighed. “Heaven? Well, it’s more than a vision with me. I have a sister who won a lottery a few years back. She won almost a hundred million credits on a one-credit ticket. She took her husband and three kids with her to heaven.”