them, too. Any successful gambler will tell you the value of keeping something in reserve.
That’s all I intend to say on the subject.”
The next morning, all the newsrolls were filled with the story of this mysterious Brian
Sangers, his incredible gambling ship-and his reputed “secret weapon” against pirates
that made his ship all but invincible. The Bavols read the reports and smiled. They had
thrown a challenge directly into -the pirates’ faces; the next move was up to the other
side.
Two days later, the Paradise left orbit around the planet Egon on the first leg of its initial
voyage. The passengers were looking forward to fun and thrills; Pias and Yvette were
hoping to supply them with even more thrills than they’d bargained for.
Chapter 5
Traitor’s World
Gastonia:
A planet the same size as Earth, circling a yellow dwarf star similar to Sol; a planet with
one large moon and three smaller ones; a planet with a breathable oxygen atmosphere
and an axial tilt of twenty-one degrees, providing the standard seasons; a planet with a
large abundance of water; a planet with a flourishing population of native plants and
animals; a planet composed of mountains and plains, of oceans and barren wastes; in
short, a planet not too dissimilar in many respects from Mankind’s original homeworld.
There was, however, one crucial difference. Gastonia circled its sun at a mean distance
of 220 million kilometers. Being 14 times farther from its primary, it received only half the
amount of radiation that the Earth did. Gastonia was a cold world, harsh and forbidding
to people attuned to warmer climates. Its rivers and lakes were frozen over for large
portions of its long year; only the complex tidal actions of the four moons insured that the
oceans themselves remained fluid and ever-churning. In midsummer at the equator the
temperature could sometimes reach up as high as twenty-five degrees Celsius-but that
was hardly a time for rejoicing. Such temperature extremes from the normal climate
range only served to increase the furious wind currents, bringing storms that made
Earth’s Asian monsoons look like spring showers.
This, then, was the world that “Mad Stephanie” had chosen as the permanent home of
those who opposed her regime. It was a habitable if not a happy place; there were
plenty of native plants and animals to serve as the settlers’ food, and a guaranteed water
supply from the frequent snowfalls. The Empire supplied the basics of human comfort,
but little else; by opposing the Empire, these traitors had turned their backs on what the
Empire could provide, and now they were paying the consequences.
As the SOTE prison ship carrying the d’Alemberts to their new home approached
Gastonia, Jules and Yvonne were allowed a few quick peeks at the exile world. The
planet appeared very bright from space, with lots of cloud cover through which there
were tantalizing glimpses of blue ocean and white, snowcovered land. During the landing,
though, they were sent back to their cells and not allowed out until the ship had touched
down.
The ship landed at the single small spaceport on the entire planet, inside the walled
administrative garrison the Empire maintained to keep an eye on its prisoners. Gastonia
was one of the two inhabited planets in the Galaxy that was not ruled over by its own
duke, the other such planet being Earth; like Earth, it was considered the personal
property of the Emperor himself, and subject to his direct supervision. The Emperor
appointed a Governor to run the world, and the Governor, in turn, selected his own staff
and reported to the Emperor at intervals through SOTE.
The d’Alemberts were ushered unceremoniously off the ship and into the garrison, where
they underwent a thorough ID scan to make certain these were the same two prisoners
who’d been convicted on Islandia. When that was finished, they were treated to a
complete physical examination, certifying their health upon arrival. The administrative
center maintained the medical facilities on Gastonia and needed files on all the incoming
prisoners before any problems developed.
Check-in procedure completed, each of them was dressed in a warm thermal uniform
consisting of a shirt and slacks, thick leather boots and a heavy fur parka. A guard
escorted them to a door, handed them each a fistful of small brass coins, and pressed
the button that opened the portal. “Go through here and walk quickly to the other end.
The door will open for you there. Enjoy your new home.”
“Wait a minute,” Yvonne said. “Where are we supposed to live? What will we eat? How
do we meet the other prisoners? What … ?”
“There’ll be someone outside to meet you,” the guard said brusquely. “There usually is;
they can tell the difference between an incoming prison ship and a regular supply ship.”
The guard was not in a talkative mood. She shoved her two prisoners roughly through the
door and slammed it shut behind them. The door closed with a solid bang of finality and
the agents could hear a hissing as it sealed itself tight. There was no knob or button to
open it from this side. Unless they wanted to stay here for the rest of their lives, they
would have to move forward.
They were in a bare, iron corridor fifteen meters long. Lighting panels overhead gave but
feeble illumination. At the far end was another door. That was their only alternative. Jules
shrugged. “No point in staying here,” he said. and led his wife to the door at the other
end.
The corridor itself was chilly, but they were unprepared for the shock of freezing air that
blasted them as they opened the far door. They closed their eyes and covered their
faces with their hands to protect them from the stinging cold of Gastonia’s weather. They
realized that the fur parkas, which they had thought were quite warm inside the garrison,
would be scant protection here on this frozen planet.
After a few seconds of adjustment, they moved out through the doorway, and the door
closed automatically behind them. There was no way to open it from this side; they were
now irrevocably committed to life on Gastonia and all that implied. “I hope we know what
we’re doing,” Yvonne muttered under her breath; Jules beside her nodded imperceptibly.
Self-doubt could hardly be avoided under these circumstances, but at the same time they
knew that they had risked their very lives before on longer gambles and come out
successfully, No one, after all, had promised them a job without hazards.
Behind them, the blank iron wall rose ten meters high, towering well above their heads.
The administrative garrison had been built with its back to a series of mountains to
forestall attacks from the rear. The high wall prevented attacks from the front. As far as
the official records went, there had never been a successful escape from Gastonia in its
more than one hundred and fifty year history as a prison world. Yet somehow a woman
named Karla Jost had managed it without anyone’s knowing and how many others as
well? That was what the d’Alemberts were here to find out-and to stop, by any means
whatsoever.
“If you want a ride to the village,” said a sour voice, “you’d better move along. I ain’t got
all day.”
The d’Alemberts turned from their perusal of the garrison behind them to study the man
who had spoken. He was an older man, possibly in his middle to late forties, with a bushy
beard and a craggy, weather-lined face. He was dressed in a fur parka similar to their
own, but his boots were fur-lined and wrapped tightly about shins and ankles. He stood
beside a handmade sleigh that was harnessed to a large, powerful quadruped. The
animal was covered by a thick coat of shaggy gray fur and sported two pairs of
wicked-looking horns, but otherwise appeared quite placid as it stood hitched to the
sleigh awaiting its master’s orders.
“Who are you?” Vonnie asked.
“Name’s Zolotin. I drive new arrivals to the village-unless you prefer to walk.”
“How far is it?” Jules asked.
“Five kilometers. Make up your minds quick.”
There was really little decision involved. Walking that distance on Gastonia when they
were unaccustomed to the severe climate would have been almost suicidal. “We’ll ride,
thank you,” Jules said, starting toward the back of the sleigh.
Zolotin moved to interpose his body between Jules and the sleigh. “Fare’s fifteen slugs
apiece.”
“Huh? Oh.” Jules looked down at the coins he’d been holding since the guard gave them
to him. All were of brass, of different sizes and shapes, but without any markings to
distinguish the denominations. “Which of these is what?” Jules asked the man.
Zolotin looked disdainfully at the collection in Jules’s hand. “The small round ones is one,
medium round ones is five, large round ones is ten, triangles is fifty, squares is a
hundred. Hexagonals is a thousand, but you won’t be seeing many of them for a while.”