Railways on Calicheman used ultrasonics to clear the way ahead of them. The speed at which the trains sailed over their tracks on magnetic runners meant that the pulses had to be of high enough amplitude to ring harmonics from any object in the same county.
On many planets there would be laws to prevent the railways from such an obvious hazard to public health. On Calicheman—at least near the starport—a cowboy being hammered by ultrasonics was likely to take a shot at the train—but then, the train driver might well shoot back. Other lands, other customs.
Franz leaned forward and said to the driver, “Ah, can you drop us at the best hotel in Tidal, please?”
Til drop you in the square,” the driver replied, “and you can walk to any damn hotel you please.”
Ran sighed. He was as interested in personal freedom as the next fellow, but he couldn’t understand people who felt that it was demeaning to do what somebody else paid you to do. That attitude got in the way of doing the best job possible . . . and Ran Colville didn’t have any use for people who did less than the best job possible.
It was possible that the taxi driver was some sort of aberration. More likely, she was a foretaste of the hotel staff, waiters, clerks, and everydamnbody else he’d have to deal with in Tidal.
It was still a beautiful day.
Tidal wasn’t on any body of water, which was a pity. Even a lake would have been useful to flush the effluvium of the slaughterhouses at the edge of town. Earthmoving equipment dug trenches to replace those already filled with stinking blood and offal. Flies and the native equivalents formed clouds that looked thick enough to walk on. Layers of quicklime, and the dirt bulldozed onto the trenches when evaporation had shrunk and congealed their contents, did little to discourage the insects.
“This is—hideous!” Oanh said.
“Amazing,” Franz echoed in scarcely less pejorative tones.
“This is certainly the home of the rugged individual,” Ran said mildly. “Nobody’s asking us to live here, of course.”
Though Calicheman was a beautiful place in its own stark fashion. Only the human colonists gave Ran pause. Not the first time he’d thought that about one planet or another.
Tidal was built in a melange of styles, most of them garish. High walls concealed and protected the homes of the wealthy, and virtually everyone Ran noticed on the streets was armed. There were no sidewalks, though paved plazas fronted some businesses.
The taxi pulled up hard enough to make the chassis sway on its springs. “Forty-two dollars,” the driver said, tapping the sign on her reader.
“I’ll get it,” Franz said, extending a credit chip.
“Double if it’s drawn on an off-planet bank,” the driver added. She’d unholstered her long-barreled pistol. It lay on her lap, not pointed anywhere in particular but a blunt warning.
“I’ll get it,” Ran said mildly. “My credit’s through the local Trident office.”
He fed his chip into the reader, his face without expression. Oanh got down from the car’s high body. Franz tugged their overnight cases from under the seat.
Oanh screamed. Two big men wearing bright garments beneath rough-out leather vests and chaps had the girl by the elbows. They tossed her into the back of a dosed car and leaped in behind her.
Ran grabbed the taxi driver’s pistol. “Hey!” she bellowed as she caught the barrel before he could aim. The kidnap vehicle accelerated away with all four wheels squealing.
“I’ll buy the damned thing!” Ran shouted.
“Like hell!” the driver shouted back. She tried to bite his hand.
Ran let go of the gun. It was too late for that. The other vehicle had vanished into the sparse traffic. He wasn’t sure he’d have fired anyway. He’d never been much use with handguns, and Oanh has likely to be injured in the crash even if he’d managed to shoot out a tire.
Franz Streseman was shouting for the police. Ran didn’t bother. The Empress’s pilotry information had made it clearthat self-help was the only help there was on Calicheman. Locals were watching the event with various levels of amusement.