Danger in Deep Space by Carey Rockwell (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📖

The jet cab raced along the highway to Venusport

The jet cab slammed to a stop at a busy intersection of the city. This was Spaceman's Row, and it dated back to Venusport's first rough and tough pioneering days.[55]

For two blocks on either side of the street, in building after building, cafés, pawnshops, cheap restaurants above and below the street level, supplied the needs of countless shadowy figures who came and went as silently as ghosts. Spaceman's Row was where suspended spacemen and space rats, prospectors of the asteroids for uranium and pitchblende, gathered and found short-lived and rowdy fun. Here, skippers of rocket ships, bound for destinations in deep space, could find hands willing to sign on their dirty freighters despite low pay and poor working conditions. No questions were asked here. Along Spaceman's Row, hard men played a grim game of survival.

Loring and Mason paid the driver, got out, and walked down the busy street. Here and there, nuaniam signs began to flick on, their garish blues, reds, and whites bathing the street in a glow of synthetic light. It was early evening, but already Spaceman's Row was getting ready for the coming night.

Presently, Mason left Loring, climbing up a long narrow flight of stairs leading to a dingy back hall bedroom to pack their few remaining bits of gear.

Loring walked on amid the noise and laughter that echoed from cheap restaurants and saloons. Stopping before Café Cosmos, he surveyed the street quickly before entering the wide doors. Many years before, the Cosmos had been a sedate dining spot, a place where respectable family parties came to enjoy good food and the gentle breezes of a near-by lake. Now, with the lake polluted by industry and with the gradual influx of shiftless spacemen, the Cosmos had been given over to the most basic, simple need of its new patrons—rocket juice!

The large room that Loring entered still retained[56] some of the features of its more genteel beginnings, but the huge blaring teleceiver screen was filled with the pouting face of a popular singer. He advanced to the bar that occupied one entire wall.

"Rocket juice!" he said, slamming down his fist on the wooden bar. "Double!" He was served a glass of the harsh bluish liquid, paid his credits, and downed the drink. Then he turned slowly and glanced around the half-filled room. Almost immediately he spotted a small wizened man limping toward him.

"Been waiting for you," said the man.

"Well," demanded Loring, "did'ja get anything set up, Shinny?"

"Mr. Shinny!" growled the little man, with surprising vigor. "I'm old enough to be your father!"

"Awright—awright—Mr. Shinny!" sneered Loring. "Did'ja get it?"

The little man shook his head. "Nothing on the market, Billy boy." He paused and aimed a stream of tobacco juice at a near-by cuspidor.

Loring looked relieved. "Just as well. I've got something else lined up, anyway."

Shinny's eyes sharpened. "You must have a pretty big strike, Billy boy, if you're so hot to buy a spaceship!"

"Only want to take a little ride upstairs, Mr. Shinny," said Loring.

"Don't hand me that space gas!" snapped Shinny. "A man who's lost his space papers ain't going to take a chance at getting caught by the Solar Guard, busting the void with a rocket ship and no papers." He stopped, and his small gray eyes twinkled. "Unless," he added, "you've got quite a strike lined up!"

"Hey, Loring!" yelled Mason, entering the café. He carried two spaceman's traveling bags, small black plastic containers with glass zippers.[57]

"So you've got Al Mason in with you," mused Shinny. "Pretty good man, Al. Let's see now, I saw you two just before you blasted off for Tara!" He paused. "Couldn't be that you've got anything lined up in deep space, now could it?"

"You're an old fool!" snarled Loring.

"Heh—heh—heh," chuckled Shinny. A toothless smile spread across his wrinkled face. "Coming close, am I?"

Al Mason looked at Shinny and back at Loring. "Say! What is this?" he demanded.

"O.K., O.K.," said Loring between clenched teeth. "So we've got a strike out in the deep, but one word outta line from you and I'll blast you with my heater!"

"Not a word," said Shinny, "not a word. I'll only charge you a little to keep your secret."

Mason looked at Loring. "How much?" he demanded.

"A twentieth of the take," said Shinny. "And that's dirt cheap."

"It's robbery," said Loring, "but O.K. We've got no choice!"

"Loring, wait a minute!" objected Mason. "One twentieth! Why, that could add up to a million credits!"

Shinny's eyes opened wide. "Twenty million! Hey, there hasn't been a uranium strike that big since the old seventeenth moon of Jupiter back in 2294!"

Loring motioned to them to sit down at a table. He ordered a bottle of rocket juice and filled three glasses.

"This ain't uranium, Mr. Shinny!" he said.

Shinny's eyes opened wider still. "What then?"

"What's the most precious metal in the system today?" Loring asked.

"Why—gold, I guess."

"Next to gold?"

Shinny thought for a moment. "Couldn't be silver[58] any more, since they're making the artificial stuff cheaper'n it costs to mine it." The little man's jaw dropped and he stared at Loring. "You mean—?"

"That's right," said Loring, "copper!"

Shinny's mind raced. In this year of 2353, all major copper deposits had long since been exhausted and only small new deposits were being found, not nearly enough for the needs of the expanding system. In an age of electronics, lack of copper had become a serious bottleneck in the production of electrical and scientific equipment. Search parties were out constantly, all over the solar system, trying to find more of the precious stuff. So a deposit of the kind Loring and Mason were talking about was a prize indeed.

Shinny's greedy fingers twitched with anticipation.

"So that's why you want to buy a spaceship, eh?"

"Wanted," replied Loring. "I don't want to buy one now. The way things look, we'll get what we want for nothing!"

Mason, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly jumped up. "So that's your angle! Well, I don't want any part of it," he shouted.

Loring and Shinny looked up in surprise.

"What're you talking about?" demanded Loring.

"All of a sudden it's come to me. Now I know why you've been hanging around the spaceport for the last two weeks. And what you meant when you saw the spaceman get out of that freighter today!"

"Sit down!" barked Loring. "If you weren't so dumb, you'd have caught on long ago." He eyed the shorter man from between half-closed lids. "It's the only way we can get out of here!"

"Not me. I ain't pulling anything like that!" whined Mason.[59]

"What's going on here?" demanded Shinny. "What're you two space bums talking about?"

"I'll tell you what! He's going to try—"

Loring suddenly stood up and slapped the shorter spaceman across the mouth. Mason sat down, a dazed look on his face.

"You space-crawling rat!" hissed Loring. "You'll do what I tell you to do, see?"

"Yeah—yeah, sure," bleated Mason. "O.K. Anything you say. Anything."

"What is this?" demanded Shinny.

"You shut up!" growled Loring.

"I won't!" said Shinny, as he also rose from the table. "You may be tough, Billy Loring, but not as tough as me!"

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Finally Loring smiled and patted Mason's shoulder. "Sorry, Al. I guess I got a little hot for a moment."

"Quit talking riddles," pleaded Shinny. "What's this all about?"

"Sit down," said Loring.

They sank back into their chairs.

"It's simple," said Mason fearfully. "Loring wants to steal a spaceship."

"A pirate job!" said Shinny. He drew in his breath sharply. "You must be outta your mind!"

"You've called yourself in on this," Loring reminded him. "And you're staying in."

"Oh, no!" Shinny's voice dropped to a husky, frightened whisper. "Deal's off. I ain't gonna spend the rest of my life on a prison asteroid!"

"Shinny, you know too much!" Loring's hand darted toward the blaster he wore at his belt.[60]

"Your secret's safe with me. I give you my spaceman's word on it," said Shinny, pushing back his chair. Abruptly getting to his feet, he scrambled rapidly out the door of the Café Cosmos.

"Loring," said Mason, "get him. You can't let him ..."

"Forget it," shot back the other. "He won't break his spaceman's oath. Not Shinny." He got up. "Come on, Mason. We haven't got much time before the Annie Jones blasts off."

"What are we gonna do?" the shorter man wanted to know.

"Stow away on the cargo deck. Then, when we get out into space, we dump the pilots and head for Tara, for our first load of copper."

"But a job like this'll take money!"

"We'll make enough to go ahead on the first load."

Mason began to get up, hesitated, and then sat down again.

"Come on," snapped Loring. His hand dropped toward his belt. "I'm going to make you rich, Mason," he said quietly. "I'm going to make you one of the richest men in the universe—even if I have to kill you first."