Dale shook his head. “No. I hate flying. Scared to death of it. My parents' plane... never mind. You know about Dad's plane crash, right? Look... I shouldn't be here for much longer. I'll be heading back to Earth on the Veneralia shuttle, right? So I just need to stick it out until you can get me home.”

  “Suit yourself. Now that you mention the shuttle, that gives me an idea. I think I'm going to make you a ship wrangler. That'll get you familiar with the landing well. It might make it easier to smuggle you on board the shuttle when the time comes. Shuttles come and go, so they need fuel, but containers are disposable. They're just dropped in from orbit, basically, and we wrangle those things all the time. It'll be good, steady work for you. And like I said, it'll help familiarize you with the landing well, and that experience might come in handy. It'll be a little scary, though. You'll be outside, and in the raw atmosphere. But you won't go outside the well, you'll be anchored in the whole time, and you won't be near Carl or Heinrich. How's that sound? Think you can handle it?”

  “Yeah.” Dale wasn't as confident as he tried to sound, but he didn't trust his coworkers anymore, so there wasn't much choice.

  “Good. Then head back to your quarters. I'll tell Myrtle about your new assignment. She'll get you set up.”

  Chapter 18 – Reports

  Zack watched the news from his home office. There had been yet another attack on Hesperus.

  “According to our sources,” said the reporter, “the Supreme Court building suffered some sort of computer malfunction. Every door locked simultaneously, and the environmental controls turned the heat up to the maximum. It was several hours before workers were able to cut their way into the building and rescue the justices.”

  Zack smiled. He had a pretty good guess what was coming next.

  “There has been no official confirmation of terrorism as of yet. But one of our sources was in the building at the time, and she claims Dr. Aeneas was responsible. According to her, a message appeared on the justices' net goggles. She didn't know the precise wording, but she overheard one of the justices mention the terrorist's name.”

  Zack pursed his lips and turned the matter over in his mind. Dr. Aeneas had raised his game lately, and attacks were coming more frequently. Tension on Hesperus was close to spilling over. The situation threatened chaos, but it also promised opportunity. Zack had made the right choice in switching to the Free Space Party. Independence was on the rise, at least on one planet.

  “The justices were brought out of the building on gurneys,” the reporter continued. “They had sweated profusely and required intravenous hydration.”

  Zack laughed. He could imagine those nine shriveled-up old men and women, looking for all the world like bedraggled cats. If any video got out, they'd be humiliated. Then again, they'd been locked inside their own building and broiled, and everyone knew it, so they were likely already furious. Once they recovered from the ordeal, they'd be out for blood. Which meant they'd be riding the mayor of Hesperus pretty hard. Mark Immerson would have mollified them without actually doing anything, but Gantry, the new mayor, was a different sort. He'd never defy the Supreme Court. Pressure from the justices would force him to “do something” about Dr. Aeneas, and it would almost certainly be something the ordinary people of Hesperus wouldn't like. And that would only add fuel to the now-imminent revolution.

  Zack leaned back in his chair and sighed. He hoped Dale was finding his way without too much difficulty. The conspiracy to save him had worked, but avoiding Mercury was just the first step. He was still a fugitive, and Raynor's killer still needed to be found and punished. There was a long way to go before things could get back to normal.

  Zack turned back to the monitor and switched off the news. He brought up balance sheets and production figures and tried to focus his mind on those matters. He was still the head guy at Tanaka-Chandra, after all, and he had a company to run.

  * * *

  “Just watch,” Myrtle said through the atmosphere suit's comm. “Don't touch. No work today. Not for you. Watch first. See how it's done. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Dale said with a nod. It was all he could do to avoid throwing up.

  They stood in the landing well of Hesperus, a large pit in the top of the city's hull. A number of others were there, experienced wranglers all. Dale was the only one who had no idea what to expect.

  He tugged on his anchor cable again, just to be sure. It attached to his belt and snaked over the deck towards a winch in the side of the landing well. The others wore similar cables, and they criss-crossed all over. It made for a hazardous situation, and everyone had assigned places to keep their cables from getting tangled.

  Dale's atmosphere suit had couplers on the toes of each boot, and they attached to anchors in the hull. It had taken a little practice, but he had finally gotten the things to couple and release when he needed to take steps.

  The sky above was bright white, with barely a tinge of yellow. The landing well was mostly in direct sunlight, which meant a radiation risk, but the face window on Dale's suit had an active filter, so he wasn't worried. The wind wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Occasional gusts swirled down into the well, but the wranglers were protected from the full force of the gale. Overall, it was a case of “so far, so good,” and in spite of his fear and his nerves, he was cautiously optimistic.

  “Hesperus, D.C., Phosphorus,” said a voice in his comm. “Container is free. Confirm inbound.”

  “Declaration of inbound container received,” Myrtle replied.

  Dale blinked and looked at her. She must have been patched in to Flight Control, or whoever was tracking the thing. He looked towards the heavens, trying to spot the container.

  “You won't see it,” said a new voice in his comm.

  It was one of the wranglers, but Dale couldn't remember the man's name. Introductions had been hurried, and all the names and faces blurred together. He looked around at the others, trying to spot the speaker.

  “It's on a ballistic reentry,” the person said. “Phosphorus kicks it down on the other side of the horizon. We won't see it until it's nearly on top of us.”

  Dale nodded, still not sure who was talking. He checked the indicator on his oxygen capsule and took a deep breath. Waiting was nerve-racking when standing outside in poison air.

  “Parachutes deployed,” said the voice from Phosphorus Station. “Hesperus Flight Control has the ball.”

  “Confirmed,” Myrtle said. “Got the ball. Trim thrusters activated. Jetsuit engines.”

  Several of the wranglers activated the turbines on the backs of their jetsuits.

  “Ten seconds,” Myrtle said.

  Dale shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back. He knew from Myrtle's briefing what was coming, but he couldn't believe he was about to see it.

  Myrtle counted down. “Two... one. Snag it.”

  The wranglers wearing the jetsuits uncoupled their feet and launched into the air. Their jetsuits deployed short wings made from smart fabric. Those wings received instructions from the wranglers' brainwaves and adjusted rudders and fins accordingly. The wranglers' cables trailed behind them, whipping around in the wind, and their suits' engines spat out a stream of exhaust, a mix of white magnesium oxide and black carbon powder. They soared over the edge of the landing well and disappeared from view, but remained tethered to the city.

  Dale and the others watched and waited.

  “Cut trim thrusters,” said one of the fliers.

  “Cutting thrusters,” Myrtle said.

  “Lines secured,” the flier said a few moments later. “Reel her in.”

  The winches whirred into action, and the cables tightened. The slack ran out, and they became taut.

  A shadow appeared overhead, and Dale stared. The container was slowly but surely being pulled into the landing well. Its parachutes were enormous, and they streamed away from it almost horizontally. The force of the wind was no joke, and he marveled at the strength of the fabric. If not for the cables securing it to Hesperus, the container would have blown away.

  The winches steadily reeled it in, and details came into view. It was a rectangular box with small thrusters attached to nudge it during flight. Dale could see the forms of the wranglers hanging onto the sides of the container. He knew from the briefing that they had coupled their feet to the container and then transferred their cables to it. The hull-bound wranglers kept the various lines untangled and adjusted the winch speeds to guide the container in. It was a complex ballet, but everyone seemed to be an old pro at it.

  The container entered the landing well and settled onto the hull with a few thumps. The ground crew secured it, and then the parachute was released. Its lines whipped over the side with a few loud snaps, and then the chute was gone forever, its purpose fulfilled.

  “Container secured,” said one of the ground crew.

  “Close the well,” Myrtle said.

  The roof began to slide over their heads. The well was an enormous space, and it took about a minute for the roof to close. It finally did, sealing the landing well away from the atmosphere. There was a hissing sound as the air exchanger began to replace atmosphere with breathable air.

  Dale blinked and squinted. The lights were on, but it was dark compared to the light of the outdoors. His suit's window filter adjusted, and more details came into view. The red warning lights had been on the whole time, but were barely visible with the roof open. They seemed bright now. They remained on for several minutes, and everyone waited patiently. Finally, the lights turned green.

  “Suits off,” Myrtle said.

  They all began removing their suits.

  Dale did likewise, even though he wasn't working. He was just going through the motions to familiarize himself with the procedure. He stripped down to his underclothes, trying very hard to not be self-conscious. He didn't catch anyone staring, though, so he relaxed. He carried his atmosphere suit over to the locker, plugged it in to recharge, and donned his regular work coveralls.

  Once the wranglers were dressed for inside work, pallet jacks and forklifts whirred into action. The container was opened, and they began hauling its contents away. The thing was emptied in a matter of minutes. When all of the cargo had left the landing well, the wranglers brought out the cutting gear and began dismantling the container itself.

  “That's it,” Myrtle said from right behind him.

  Dale jumped. He hadn't heard her sneak up.

  “Another tomorrow,” she said, apparently not noticing she had startled him. “You'll work tomorrow. Not much. Ease into it. Winch duty. That's all.”

  Dale gave her a thumbs-up. He was ready.

  Chapter 19 – Mistakes

  Later that evening, Hoyser paid him a visit in his quarters. “I've been digging into the nozzle incident,” he said. “It wasn't Carl. Or anyone else from the maintenance crew, for that matter.”

  Dale stared. “That's impossible. It had to be. Those things can't just open by themselves, can they?”

  “No, they can't. They're tied into Flight Control. The ship's computer keeps us on a smooth course by constantly making adjustments in the nozzle array's geometry. Reactors that are down for maintenance, though, like the one you were in, are locked out from Flight Control.”

  “What does that all mean?”

  “It means it was either a computer glitch or something a lot more insidious.”

  Dale frowned. “Insidious? You don't mean...”

  “Dr. Aeneas?” Hoyser shrugged. “I can't say for sure it was him. In fact, it doesn't make much sense to me for him to target something like that. But the good doctor is the only explanation I can think of at the moment.”

  Dale's heart sank. “I guess that means I owe Carl an apology.”

  “You do, but I doubt it'll do any good. You're an Earther, and he already didn't like Earthers. Throw in a false accusation, and, well...”

  “Yeah.” He lowered his head. “Thanks, Hoyser.”

  “Sure thing, kid. Just thought you'd want to know. Good luck tomorrow.” Hoyser left.

  Dale sat and thought for a while. After a few minutes, he made a call on his goggles.

  Carl's face appeared in his vision. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to apologize,” Dale said, trying to sound humble. “I know it wasn't you who tried to kill me. I was scared and angry, and I went off half-cocked, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you.”

  “You think we're all a bunch of cave men,” Carl said. “That's it, right? Spoiled sinker from Earth thinks he's better than all of us Hesperans who actually work for a living.”

  “That's not it at all. I just—”

  “Take a dive, Earther.” His face disappeared.

  Dale closed his eyes. He had really screwed up, and now he didn't know what else to do. There was nothing else to do, really, other than go to work and hope time healed all wounds.

  * * *

  After a week, Dale finally felt like he was getting in a rhythm. The work in the landing well was dangerous, but it hadn't killed him yet, and that was encouraging. The other wranglers had finally started to look at him with a little bit of respect. Not much, but a little. Baby steps.

  Dale woke up the next morning brimming with newfound confidence. He went over everything in his mind, just as he had every day on the job. He knew the wrangling procedure. He was starting to get a real feel for how the containers handled in the wind, and he could tell when to get out of the way to avoid getting crushed. It was thrilling work, like being a cowboy in a rodeo. The “wrangler” moniker was apt.

  Even more encouraging was that he was losing weight. The slightly lighter gravity made moving around easier than on Earth, and so he had done more of it. Add in manual labor, better diet, and walking everywhere, and the fat was melting away. A few more weeks, and he wouldn't be “well-rounded” anymore.

  All in all, his life seemed to be improving. He made sure everything in his quarters was squared away, and then headed for the door. He tugged on the handle. It didn't open.

  He scratched his head and examined it. The door wasn't locked. It was simply stuck. Not just sort of stuck, either, but absolutely frozen in place—it wouldn't budge even a little. He put a foot against the wall and pulled with all his might. Again, nothing happened. It was as if the thing was welded in place.

  He gave up, shook his arms out, and walked over to the desk. He sat down and called Hoyser on the room's computer. There was no answer.

  Dale began to panic. He was trapped in his quarters, and the person he trusted most to help wasn't there. He realized he was clenching his teeth, so he let his mouth fall open and wiggled his jaw a little. He took slower breaths and forced himself to relax. Hoyser was already at work—that was all. That's why he wasn't answering. If that was indeed the case, then he might have his net goggles with him. Dale donned his own goggles and tried calling Hoyser's.

  “Hey, kid,” Hoyser said, his face popping up on the lens.

  “Oh, good. I tried your quarters, but got no answer. I was afraid something had happened.”

  “I don't use the forwarding feature. It gets confusing for me. So what's up?”

  “I'm stuck.”

  “You're what?”

  “I'm trapped in my room.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Hello? Hoyser? You still there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Um... I'll be there in a few. Just hold tight. And call Myrtle. Tell her you're going to be late.”

  Dale did so and then sat on the bed and waited. Twenty minutes later, Hoyser called on the goggles.

  “Found the problem,” he said, obviously trying not to laugh. “Someone Chandrapoxied your door.”

  “Someone what?”

  Hoyser couldn't hold it in anymore, and he burst out laughing. “It's a prank, kid. Someone sealed you in. I'll have to get a cutter.”

  Dale fumed. It was Carl. It had to be. He was getting him back for the false accusation. But Dale couldn't accuse him of sealing him in his room. Not without proof. Not again. His mind raced. There were still weeks left before Veneralia. He couldn't deal with juvenile stunts for all that time. It would drive him crazy. Besides, the pranks might get worse. For all he knew, someone might try to toss him off the city at some point. Have him “take a dive,” as the Hesperans say. Whoever was responsible, Dale needed to change that person's mind, and quickly.

  It all boiled down to respect. Dale needed the Hesperan underworlders to accept him as something other than a spoiled Earther. And there was only one way to do it. He made his decision. “Hoyser?”

  “Be there soon.”

  “Not trying to rush you. There's just something I want to tell you.”

  “What?”

  Dale took a deep breath. “I want to be an angel.”

  Chapter 20 – The Mayor

  “Sorry I'm late, Mayor,” said Jon Uncton, the mayor's assistant. He ducked into the office, dropped a file on the desk, and quickly turned to leave.

  “Hold it,” Mayor Cameron Gantry said from behind his desk. His assistant's newly shaved head had caught his attention.

  Jon stopped and sighed.

  “Turn around.”

  He did. Not only was his head completely bald, but his eyebrows were missing, too.

  “Rough night, Jon?” Gantry asked with a smirk.

  Jon blushed. “Not exactly.” He paused. “I wasn't sure whether I should tell you or not. I mean, there's nothing you can do about it, and it's all over now, so it would just be a useless distraction, and—”

  “Out with it. What happened?”

  “It's a message. From Dr. Aeneas.”

  Gantry sat up straighter. “Say what?”

  “It happened in the middle of the night. I don't know how he got in. I always lock the door. But he must have made some noise, because I woke up and saw someone in my room. He put a damp cloth over my face, probably chloroform, and then shaved me while I was out. There's not a single hair on my body.”

 

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