Excerpt

Luis Ahmad had tried every anti-nausea drug in all the galaxy and every home remedy from a hundred AlliedSystems planets. And without fail, as soon as a sub-light transport smaller than a vast ore freighter decelerated for orbit, he was sweaty and shaking, huddled beside the nearest receptacle.

His own specialty of deep psych-hypnosis didn't work any better than transdermal herb infusions from Beta Handsos. He'd even entered orbit submerged in a buoyant vat of Jemushian violet nectar. He had to admit that he smelled wonderful after that, but he still felt awful.

For a man with a body so ill-suited for interstellar travel, Luis often wondered how he'd stumbled into a career demanding just that. He'd never quite given up hope that hibernation technology, and safety regulations, would eventually allow him to wake up on his destination planet rather than hours before braking.

A guy had to hope.

One reason he'd taken an assignment so far from Earth, on the edge of the far-flung Abrams System, was passage on the biggest ore freighter in the TransGalactic fleet. His hypersleep recovery cabin onboard the Bountyfield resembled nothing more than a dull steel rectangle, with five empty bunks wedged in around the floor-level spot he'd assigned himself. A few grunts and groans when he got up and down were a small price to pay for less gut-twisting motion.

The bass rumble as the ship's braking engines kicked in were the cue to keep himself focused with sensations other than his belly. Stretched out on the rock-hard mattress with his eyes closed, he ran his fingertips across the nubby blanket on his neatly made bed, pointedly ignoring the unfortunate shade of green.

He held his other palm flat on the cold, ridged floor. A mouth full of plain old Earth-style mint candies didn't do much to settle his stomach, but the sharp chill in his throat and nostrils gave him something else to concentrate on.

His position as TransGalactic's head psych-officer, not to mention the absurd amount they were paying him for this assignment, gave Luis the choice of far more luxurious recovery staterooms on board. Even the most rugged freighter carried a few for VIPs, and the Bountyfield was hardly rugged.

Commissioned only ten years ago specifically to make runs to the vital Abrams System, the forward section of the kilometers-long freighter could pass for TransGalactic's corporate headquarters. Silks from the moons of Kayren, mood-sensing crystal lighting from Outer Rigia. The finest chefs from around the known civilized systems. All standing ready for hypersleep recovery, on-board meetings, whatever the elite demanded.

And unfortunately for Luis, the staterooms were close to those gourmet kitchens, the better to waft tempting aromas through circulated air. Most humans woke ravenous. Avoiding food, no matter how expertly prepared, until he was planetside worked far better for Luis.

He opened his eyes when the braking engines cut out, leaving only the sound of his own breathing. The worst was over as far as gastric upset, but he was better off staying right where he was. The small crew on a big ship would work like ants racing ahead of a flooding river preparing for space dock. All Luis and any other passengers could do was get in the way.

He sat up carefully in case the grav-dampers still needed to adjust and pulled on a black wool jacket to match his pants. Luis pressed his back against the smooth, steadying wall. No bored long-haul crews had scratched or decorated it yet. One perfect coat of shiny TransGalactic blue would eventually give way to patches and repairs.

An hour until dock. May as well refresh his memory about the case that brought him such a long way. And focus his attention anywhere but on movement he could neither see nor control.

Luis pulled a spherical holo-reader out of his small woven aluminum daypack. He held the reader cupped in his palm, then pressed three fingers into the top to activate the display. He'd resisted the feather-light device at first, preferring the flat touch screen reader he'd grown up with.

The versatility of the display and the simple beauty of the nearly transparent ball won him over in the end. He adjusted the height until what looked like solid paper sat the perfect distance from his eyes before letting the reader float in place.

If Luis had been in one of those posh corporate staterooms several levels above, he would have a sprawling view of Bitanthra by now. More surface water than Earth on a smaller planet resulted in a thick grey and white cloud cover.

Native plants remained primitive and mostly safe, though humans with spring allergies tended to suffer greatly on the surface. A young, blue-tinted star left all that water looking especially brilliant if the observers weren't dealing with watering eyes.

The truth was nothing in particular recommended Bitanthra until TransGalactic got the sparkling deep-green ore scattered all over the rocky surface into their research and development labs. Decades later, Luis and most other sentient creatures understood what Bitan did. Only a handful outside of TransGalactic personnel ever had a chance to actually touch any.

Even the smallest grains were too valuable to remain unused.

Luis shifted his display, changing from text to images almost lifelike enough to take the place of touch. An uncut stone turned slowly in mid-air, gleaming pine forest green interrupted by brilliant flashes of purple, red, and orange.

A fine specimen like this, the actual size not much larger than a grown man's thumbnail, was worth more than a thousand homes on Earth.

Two quick metallic raps pulled Luis out of wondering if he'd have a chance to touch a piece of Bitan. He pushed himself to his feet, only grunting a couple of times. He slipped the reader into his day pack and activated the pack's magnetic seal.

***

A TransGalactic escort, obviously dispatched from the staterooms judging by her perfectly pressed midnight blue pantsuit and gleaming gold buttons, waited in the corridor. She looked about thirty, but with people in this line of work spending so much time in hypersleep, Luis never guessed about such things.

He didn't guess about TransGalactic pairing her with him, either. There were no classes or official documents admitting to it, but anyone on long-term hypersleep duty understood the open secret. Luis matched well with men or women with reddish hair, blue or green eyes, and fair skin. Her warm smile made it clear his brown eyes and hair and easily tanned skin fit her preferences as well.

"Dr. Ahmad. I trust your recovery has been smooth."

"Smoother than usual. Please, call me Luis."

"As you wish, Luis. I'm Tegwin Fairbrooke. We're boarding the first shuttle, if you're ready?"

"Lead the way."

The utilitarian steel hallway was decorated only with stripes of paint along the floor. Luis wasn't sure what the black, red, or green paths led to. He'd been told to follow the TransGalactic blue, and Tegwin did the same. Several crew members rushing past them wore sturdy canvas coveralls in colors matching the floor, but he didn't have a chance to see if they followed their proper stripes.

"Your first time on Bitanthra?" Tegwin said.

"It is. I've heard it's lovely."

She shrugged, continuing her quick pace. "Definitely peaceful. I don't mind ten days or so, but I think I'd struggle on a long ore loading stop with nothing else to do."

"Aren't they loading this time? I thought we were here for forty days."

Tegwin stopped in front of a personnel tri-axis motivator. Luis didn't love the unpredictable motion of a tri-ax, but it was unavoidable on a ship this size.

"I'll have plenty to do, Luis. I'm your corporate and planetary liaison. We can always catch a smaller freighter out if you're finished early, but the Bountyfield will be here for the duration. Before you ask, I trained in psych before I signed on with TransGalactic. Never had a chance to work much with hypnosis, though."

She waved her wrist in front of a round black sensor beside the tri-ax door. Luis hadn't noticed the thin silver com-bracelet she wore. He wondered how much Bitan it held, and how much a civilian would have to pay for one.

"You'll get plenty of chances to watch deep psych-hypnosis in practice if all goes well," he said.

The lift had the same boxy design as his recovery cabin had, with unpainted steel walls and a textured floor. Tegwin didn't do anything he saw, but the tri-ax moved smoothly to their right, toward the front of the freighter.

Most people swore they couldn't feel the damped motion and were surprised to find out where they ended up. Luis always knew.

"The shuttle will have us on the ground in about twenty minutes. Do you need medication for the drop?"

Luis laughed. "I see my reputation got here first. I'm usually fine as long as I can see and the shuttle isn't bumpy, thank you."

"You'll be able to see. Maybe better than you want to."

The tri-ax door slid to the side, and the reality of a working ore freighter slammed into Luis's senses. Whirring machinery, the stink of hot gears and human bodies working at top speed, a blur of people and material in motion. Tegwin stepped confidently into the controlled chaos, still following the blue stripe on the floor. Luis took a deep, mint-flavored breath, and followed.

When Luis spotted the curved bottom of the shuttle about a hundred meters away, Tegwin's comment made sense. The forward section was transparent, likely a proprietary TransGalactic alloy. The open cargo doors and the back of the shuttle were solid black, as shiny and new as the rest of the Bountyfield.

Luis followed Tegwin up a short flight of portable stairs into the crew seating area. White plastic seats with the thinnest of blue cushions were jammed in three to a side, with only a long, narrow window at shoulder height breaking up the matching white walls.

"You're welcome to stay back here if you think the drop will bother you," Tegwin said. "SteelGlas is every bit as strong as the rest of the ship, but some people prefer an enclosed space."

"I'd like to get a look at Bitanthra on the way down. If I have trouble, I promise I'll let you know before it's too late."

A wave of her wrist-comm, and they passed into another world. An absurdly expensive world created by the magic of that green rock. A black-carpeted walkway ran down the middle of the forward lounge, but the rest of the floor, walls, and ceiling were nearly invisible. The empty chairs up here were more like upright cocoons, all facing toward the center aisle.

Thick TransGalactic blue padding adjusted itself to Luis's body when he sat at the front of the shuttle, creating an odd sensation of both security and floating.

"We drop in about a minute." Tegwin settled in beside him. "I can call the attendant if you'd like refreshments or food."

"No, thank you. Are we the only ones going?"

"For now. There's a board meeting on the Bountyfield, so the shuttle will be bringing Bitanthrans back up for that. Most of the execs will be outbound on a smaller freighter in a few days, meeting with another colony. If you want to face out for the drop, press the armrest with your right hand. Another press brings you back."

Luis did a quick internal check. Everything felt secure for the moment. He swung himself out into what looked like solid black empty space.

He heard a faint wavering alarm, probably about a thousand times louder in the cargo hold, ending with a solid thud that jarred the shuttle.

"Outer shuttle door," Tegwin said. She'd positioned her chair beside his. "Drop begins now."

A line of light below Luis's feet broke the darkness, letting in a flood of white and blue light. The light grew upward as the inner door rose over the thick clouds of Bitanthra.

The shuttle glided forward, clearing the sides and top. When Luis saw nothing but clear space and choppy clouds with occasional flashes of dark beneath, the shuttle dropped. Not abruptly like most older models, and not too sharply.

Luis hardly noticed his stomach's slow roll.

"We're over the sea right now." Tegwin pointed to flashes of dark blue beneath them. "We'll circle the equator then heard north to the eastern mountain ranges. Smoother entry that way."

"That's where the mines are?"

"The big ones, yes. A few are scattered across all the land masses, and we've recently discovered Bitan deposits in the seas. The highest quality ore is still in the highlands."

Luis wished he could pull up the image of flashing green Bitan again, but he'd never been comfortable reading in motion. The reddish sun was hidden behind the mass of the Bountyfield, so he could observe the one source of the most important ore in the galaxy without a trace of glare.

A handful of those stones allowed communication across so far unlimited distances, all in real time. Voices and data traveled hundreds or thousands of light years in an instant, while the fastest transport in any fleet would take years or longer to make the same trip. Rapid colonization and the rise of the AlliedSystems would have been impossible without Bitan.

Luis had started out on this journey to save the most vital, and valuable, human colony in the known galaxy three Earth years ago.

To say the collapse of Bitanthra could lead to the collapse of the AlliedSystems and the TransGalactic empire, if anyone were brave enough to speak those disturbing words out loud, would be no exaggeration.

The problem here wasn't dissatisfaction with the workers, not like cautionary tales of labor struggles of the distant past on Earth or anywhere else. Everyone involved knew mining, processing, and shipping Bitan was never going to be easy.

The stones were too fragile and soft for heavy automation or careless handling. Hours were long under and above ground. But TransGalactic took care of their invaluable colony and the people who made it work.

Luis wasn't here for the families of the workers either, at least not the adults. Several generations had been born and raised on the surface, and people rarely wanted to leave.

The colony was under serious and growing threat because of their children.