Goldin Treacherous Moon

Agents of ISIS, Bool, 2
1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-3-7554-2599-1
Verlag: BookRix
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 214 Seiten

Hundreds of thousands of people have visited the pleasure moon Vesa and simply vanished without a trace. Is this part of some vast galactic conspiracy?   To find out, the Imperial Special Investigation Service dispatches its two top agents to look into the matter--and the shocking truth they reveal leads to discoveries that eventually threaten the stability of humanity's entire interstellar Empire.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Goldin, Stephen

Leseproben

Chapter 1: Predators and Prey

The Golden Crater Casino was unquestionably among the largest and plushest gaming palaces in the galaxy. Its reputation for the exotic and the exciting was fully earned, as but the briefest of walks down its crowded corridors and across its even more crowded rooms would reveal. People were jammed elbow-to-elbow in some places in their fanatical attempts to lose money to the House. Women in abbreviated costumes roamed the floor, ostensibly employed as photographers, waitresses and the like—though it was common knowledge that a fifty-ruble bill would procure other services from them as well. The great and the near-great mingled at the tables, amid throngs of those who were merely wealthy but had aspirations toward greatness. Here a tridee star brushed against a grafinya; there a corporation president bumped into a famous news commentator. Rank and social distinction were of little importance in the casino; the only question of interest was how well could a person gamble and was luck on his side today? Yet even as notorious and plush as it was, the Golden Crater was considered merely routine on Vesa, the moon that billed itself as the “Playground to the Galaxy”—and which cynics called a variety of other names. Nils Bjenden, a banker from the planet Lindstrom, stood to one side of a doorway looking with distaste across the crowded room. This chamber was so jammed with people that he had difficulty seeing the other side. The ceiling arched high above his head, and on it was projected a kaleidoscopic light show that continually changed colors with the changing noise level in the room. But he hadn’t come here to look at the ceiling, he’d come to gamble—and the mob on the floor was packed so densely that he couldn’t see so much as a single gaming table. “I told you we should have gotten here earlier,” he said to his wife Karen, who stood beside him and looked as bewildered as he felt. Nils found he had to yell to be heard above the room’s din, even though his wife was only centimeters away. “But you wanted to stop and eat first. We should have left when I wanted to.” “I didn’t know it would be this crowded,” she apologized. A stranger who’d been standing behind them came to the woman’s rescue. “Don’t blame her, gospodin. The Golden Crater’s like this around the clock. Vesa is ‘the moon that never sleeps,’ you know; these casinos prove that.” Nils grunted noncommittally and would have walked away, but Karen struck up a conversation with the man who’d saved her from a tongue-lashing. “You seem to know a lot about it. Do you live here on Vesa?” The stranger laughed. He was a tall, thin man with brooding eyes and a dark complexion. His clothing was almost as conservative as Nils’s: a lightweight brown jacket and flared pants, a stiff white shirt and a gold sash tied about his waist. “No, gospozha, I don’t think I’d care to. It’s all too hectic, too busy; I’d go crazy in two weeks. I do travel a lot, though, and I come here fairly often—every couple of months, at least.” “This is our first time,” Karen gushed. “I’ve been wanting to come for years and years. It’s not as if we couldn’t afford it. But Nils, my husband, is a banker, and he’s always busy with one deal after another. You’d think the entire planet would fall apart without him there to look after it. I finally had to put my foot down and tell him that we were going to Vesa now or else.” “Hmpf,” snorted her husband as he craned his neck to look over the throng of gamblers on the floor. “Some vacation it’s been, too. I haven’t had a moment to relax since we got here. There’s always people, people, people. What did you say your name was, again?” “Lessin,” the stranger replied. “And if you think it’s crowded here you should see what it’s like down on Chandakha.” It took a moment for Karen to realize what he was talking about. The moon Vesa was so famous that many people forgot there was a planet it circled. “Oh yes, I remember reading something about it on our trip out here. They’ve got an overpopulation problem, haven’t they?” “That’s putting it mildly.” Lessin closed his eyes and shuddered, as though recalling some personal nightmare. “Things are so bad down there that the people are little more than animals sometimes.” His tone made Karen shiver. “Then I’m just as glad I’m up here, among civilized people.” “I’m not,” Nils grumbled. “I should never have left Lindstrom, not with that big deal about to go through. I don’t like the thought of having to fight my way through that mob just to get near a table and do a little gambling.” “I quite agree,” Lessin said amiably. “I much prefer the private clubs, myself. If I hadn’t promised to meet a friend here, I’d be at one of them right now.” “I didn’t know there were any private clubs,” Karen said. “Well, they certainly don’t advertise. That’s how they manage to stay private. They like to avoid crowd scenes like this.” “What are these private clubs like?” Nils asked. “They’re much smaller, more intimate places. Couple dozen people at most, and the atmosphere is more relaxed. The stakes can vary from moderate to high, depending on where you go, of course.” “Would there be any chance of our going to one of those places?” Nils asked. “There sure as hell isn’t going to be any action for us around here.” The stranger hesitated. “Well, they are for members only ....” “You’re a member, aren’t you?” “Nils! You have no right to impose on this man,” Karen complained. “Oh, I don’t mind. I was about to continue that the clubs are for members and their guests. I was going to be taking my friend to one, but,” he looked at his wristcom, “he’s more than half an hour late right now. If I know him he’s probably picked up one of the floorgirls and forgot all about me. I hate going places by myself. In fact, I had just about decided to invite you two nice people to come along with me.” “Yes, that’s more the spirit,” Nils said, rubbing his hands with gusto. It was obvious he preferred the thought of a quiet, dignified evening of gentlemanly gambling to the raucous atmosphere of the Golden Crater. “It sounds lovely,” Karen added. “Fine, then it’s all settled. Just give me a moment to get my cape from the checkroom and I’ll be right back with you.” Lessin smiled at them and moved off quickly toward one side of the chamber. “We were lucky to meet him,” Karen whispered to her husband. Her low voice was just barely audible above the noise of the casino. “He certainly seems to know what he’s about.” “Very good sort,” Nils agreed. Their newfound friend was back three minutes later, a full-length brown fur cape draped elegantly over his tall, handsome frame. “Shall we be off?” he suggested. As they left the casino and the door shut behind them, the drop in noise level was an immense relief. They faced one of the broad traffic corridors that carried the bulk of Vesa’s public transportation. Being an airless satellite, all life on Vesa existed underground in the vast hollowed out chambers and tunnels that honeycombed the moon. This tunnel was one of the major “streets” and dozens of electric vehicles went past them each minute, “Thank goodness,” Karen said in the comparative quiet of the corridor. “I thought I’d burst an eardrum in there.” “It’s not too long a ride to the club,” Lessin said. “Let me see if I can flag down a jit.” He stood on the curb and waved at a likely looking vehicle. A large shuttle lumbered in their direction. This was one of the buses, or “jits,” that were the universal method of transportation on Vesa. Jits were privately owned and operated, acting as combinations of cabs and buses; they could pick up passengers at will and take them anywhere on Vesa, without fixed schedules. Tiny computers built into the driver’s controls calculated the fare from the point of pickup to the destination. This jit was obviously an old one, judging from all the paint peeling off its six meter length. The glass in four of its windows had large cracks. As it pulled to a stop beside them, the group on the curb could see the vehicle’s occupants—half a dozen seedy-looking men wearing dirty clothes. Most of them were in need of a shave. They leered out the windows at the well-dressed trio. Lessin waved the jit away. “That’s a problem you’d better be warned about if this is your first trip here,” he explained. “Very few people have private cars; nearly everybody uses the jits because they allow for more flexibility in the traffic patterns. But there’s a certain outlaw element that takes advantage of that. They’d...