Fool's Gold: Carson Lyle's War - Part One Read online

  FOOL’S GOLD

  CARSON LYLE’S WAR : PART ONE

  By Thomas J. Rock

  http://thomasjrock.wordpress.com

  Cover image by Luca Oleastri | Dreamstime.com

  Cover Layout by Thomas J. Rock

  Copyright © 2016 by Thomas J. rock

  All rights reserved.

  ALSO BY THOMAS J. ROCK

  The Jack Foehammer Omnibus

  Four science fiction about people and technological discovery.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Other books

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Continue the Adventure

  For April. Thanks for believing.

  Chapter 1

  Orbiting Space Port

  Planet Webb-151b: "Atlantia"

  Twin Suns Territory, 22 Light years from Earth

  What the hell is all this?

  Carson Lyle stepped off of the shuttle ramp and into the main concourse of the main freight port orbiting Atlantia and was greeted by an unusually high bustle of activity for that time of the morning. Passengers rushing around to catch their transports to whatever menial job they had for that day, port workers, local security personnel, and even armed marines, all crisscrossed his path as he made his way toward his usual security checkpoint. It reminded him when ships from Earth docked almost routinely. Maybe he’d missed some news while he slept on the shuttle ride up into orbit? On a whim, he glanced up at the nearest jump gate status board. The full list of jump gate nodes was green, with a just a few in yellow status…except one. At the bottom of the list, the jump gate to Earth was grayed out. The timer clocking the outage had rolled over many times, but everyone that slogged through the dilapidated conditions throughout the Twin Suns territory on a daily basis knew it had been nine standard years.

  Wishful thinking, I guess.

  Lyle found an increased security presence at the his checkpoint, as well. Marines flanked the checkpoint and the security supervisors were more visible than usual, carefully making certain everyone passing though was scrutinized. Beyond the checkpoint, he could see a much larger than normal crowd of haulers making its way around the corner toward the bidding platforms.

  What the hell? I didn’t think I was that late?

  Lyle took his place in line, wincing with each step. His right leg hurt more than usual. The line of haulers ahead of him moved slowly - a natural side effect of increased security - but the A.I. droid at the screening station was getting people through efficiently. After a few minutes, Lyle made his way up to the A.I. at the screening station.

  “Morning, Joe,” Lyle said, as he pulled his sidearm out from under the back of his jacket and stowed it away in a storage capsule. He swiped a card through a slot reader on the panel by the opening of the capsule, took the key chip the popped out of the capsule, and watched the capsule whoosh down a tube that went into the storage area below the deck.

  "Identification, please," the A.I. said, extending a robotic hand. The A.I.’s facial image on the screen was rigid and showed no hint of the casual nature Lyle was used to.

  He pulled a scuffed and scratched white card from his inside breast pocket and handed it over. Lyle noticed the supervisor, off to the right, looking on.

  "Is it evaluation time again already?"

  Joe shook his head as he inserted the card into a slot on his terminal and was rejected as unreadable. It took two more tries before it worked. In a moment the holo-display showed a picture of Lyle, along with his Class 6 Freight Hauler license information. "They're looking for something, but haven't told us who or what," he said, just above a whisper. Then he pointed to the hand print reader. "Authenticate, please."

  Carson, put his hand on the reader and whispered, "They’re looking for something, but don’t tell you what. So it’s really a normal day, then?"

  The A.I. shrugged his robotic shoulders as he tapped a couple buttons on the display. The color of the holo-display changed to green. Joe handed the card back to Lyle. "Submit yourself for scanning."

  Lyle hated this part. Most days, Joe would let him pass without a scan knowing what does to him. Today, no such luck.

  The A.I. guard motioned him to step between two screens that were just far enough apart for him to do so. The scanning tech threw a couple switches. The scan beams penetrated his clothing, his skin, and his tissue, looking for weapons and other contraband. The scan also aggravated his right leg. Lyle grimaced and fought the urge to curse. The tech's screen view automatically zoomed to Lyle's right thigh where it detected the presence of metal. "Is this documented?" The tech said.

  The A.I. brought up Lyle's file. "Confirmed. Shrapnel, right thigh."

  Lyle that that was odd. Even that tech knew about the shrapnel in his leg. Something definitively had them going by the book today, and it wasn’t an evaluation.

  The tech waved Lyle through. The A.I. appeared on the monitor on top of the other robotic chassis at the end of the screening line and met Lyle as he exited.

  "I'm feeling extremely safe and secure with the excellent job you're doing," Lyle said, raising his voice so the supervisor could hear. "Your strict adherence to policy and procedure is a model for everyone to follow."

  "Just make sure you're keeping your own nose clean,"

  "What was that? You deserve a raise?" Lyle said, loudly and smiling.

  "Geesh. You're clear. Just go," Joe said, quietly, then disappeared from the screen, returning to the line that was waiting for him.

  Lyle continued on toward the bidding platforms, where he and the other haulers would bid on that day's available contracts.

  He rounded a corner…and stopped.

  Son of a bitch!

  Chapter 2

  "...Sold!" Said the foreman on the right platform, pointing to scruffy, fat man in the crowd. "Step up here, and put your chop on this."

  Haulers were crowded around both bidding platforms. It was standing room only and bidding had already started.

  Lyle scanned the crowd. There had to be at least twice as many haulers, as usual, looking for work that morning. It looked like almost everyone who was anyone among freight haulers was there, along with a lot of the bottom feeders that usually don't show up until after noon to bid on the low-risk milk runs. There were also more than a few unfamiliar faces around. Not that Lyle cared how many haulers were there. Everyone had a right to bid on work. It just meant bidding would probably take longer, which would cut into everyone's profit margin. Hopefully, all the dumbasses stayed home.

  Regardless, something was up here too. Was it the same thing that had security riled up? Maybe. The contracts bid on here are ones that the large freight companies have turned down because they're too small or carry too much risk. Others come from clients that don't want to attract too much attention to themselves. But all of these contracts are supposed to be cleare
d by the Customs and completely legal, but it's not unheard of for something to slip through the cracks.

  Lyle noticed a short, bald, hauler leaned up against a nearby post from a mug. He made his way in that direction and walked up behind him.

  "I didn't think it was possible," Lyle said, "but I think you're getting shorter…Shorty."

  The man turned and looked up from his cup. His left eye was covered with a tattoo of a falcon wing that covered a good portion of that side of his face. "Fuck off."

  Lyle laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

  "Yeah, well, you should try." He took a drink. "I mean who actually names their kid 'Shorty', anyway?"

  Lyle laughed, then noticed the scent from Shorty's cup. "Hey, is that real coffee?"

  "You’re damn right, it is." Shorty smiled from ear to ear.

  "How?"

  "I did a run for Kylo-Alpha last week. Went out to—"

  "Kylo-Alpha? Don't tell me anymore. I don't want to know," Lyle said waving his hands in front of him.

  "Anyways," Shorty said. "When I got back, they couldn't afford to pay the full contract. So they made up the difference with a liter of coffee grounds."

  "No shit? How pure is it?"

  "Only been brewed through a half-dozen times," Shorty said with an even bigger smile.

  Lyle was jealous. He hadn't even sniffed coffee that pure in almost a decade. In his mind, it almost would have been worth it to do a deal with those little freaks to get it, himself, if he knew it was available. Almost.

  He nodded to the bidding platforms. "Anything good come up yet?"

  Shorty shook his bald head. "Nah. Mostly small stuff so far. But I've heard some skinny about something big that's supposed to come available today. Heavy load, high risk, high payoff, high bonus potential. I'm trying to wait on that."

  Lyle gestured to the crowd. "Is that what all this is about?"

  Shorty looked surprised. "You haven't heard?"

  "Nah. I slept on the shuttle."

  Shorty smiled. "Well, maybe I should've kept my mouth shut, then." He sucked in his gut and tried to stand a little taller than his one-and-a-half-meter frame allowed.

  Lyle rolled his eyes. He and Shorty weren't necessarily friends. They were rivals, as freight haulers, but did have a mutual respect for the other. Shorty had been around longer, but Lyle was better at turning a profit on jobs that others passed on and had a much better reputation in the business. But it wasn't often Shorty knew something he didn't, so Lyle decided to let him have this brief moment in the sun.

  "Alright. Fine. Whatever," he said.

  Shorty stood there, with his coffee, gloating.

  "Well, whatever this job is, it must be prime. Looks like every cockroach with a ship that could carry a cubic meter of crap showed up here today."

  Shorty nodded. "Once in a lifetime type of opportunity, I hear."

  "Well, if it’s got your interest then it must be something special."

  The foreman on the left platform completed the transaction with the fat man and stepped back to the center, facing the eager bidders. "Okay, gentlemen," the foreman said. "Who wants to make a run out to Andoro?"

  Lyle laughed. "Andoro? I'm pretty sure that's not your special job."

  “Nope, but you’ll know it when it come up.”

  “Not going to tell anything about it, huh?” Lyle said.

  Shorty was quiet, but Carson knew he couldn’t help but make sure everyone knew he had the inside track on a sweet job. All it took was a little prodding.

  “Not even a hint?”

  Shorty thought for a moment and said, “You should think about the future.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You ever thought what would happen to us if the Earth gate was ever fixed? ”

  Lyle couldn’t hide his surprise at the question. He leaned in and said quietly, “Have you heard something?”

  “This is one of those jobs that can set someone up for the future,” Shorty said, without looking at him. “And it’s going to be mine.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You just wait and see and remember what I said.”

  Was it possible? The Earth gate? Shorty seemed oddly serious for it to be a line of BS, Lyle thought. No. That’s too big to be kept under wraps. He would have heard about it. He’d have heard something. Lyle actually had thought a lot about the possibility. It was frightening. He expected the first ships the Authority would request would be capitol battlecruisers that would head straight to the Outer-Rim to bring them back in line. The closing of the Earth Gate helped end the last war. The Twin Suns territory wasn’t ready for another.

  Lyle forced the thought out of him mind. He figured he had some time while the low end contracts were auctioned off and decided to see what was happening in the territory today. He retrieved his data pad from his jacket pocket and pulled up the News Net. A list of that day's headlines populated the screen and he began scrolling.

  Economic Strife Continues to Pummel the Poor.

  Another Ship Lost in EMF Zone.

  Air Quality Still A Problem.

  Mech Corps Says Missing Equipment Was A 'Clerical Error'.

  That one caught Lyle's eye. He tapped on it and skimmed the article.

  "...government spin doctors have been hard at work trying to put out public relations fires after another embarrassing report about inefficiencies in the operation of the military. The latest stemming from an audit showing tens of millions in equipment, including combat mech parts, went missing last month.

  Authorities are now saying there was a clerical error that misplaced that equipment on inventory spreadsheets, but assures us no equipment is actually missing.

  The concern, of course, is making sure no equipment ever makes it into the hands of the Outer Rim settlements, in the asteroid field.

  Authorities say this is an impossibility, and also say none of the equipment, in question, were arms or ammunition so there would be no advantage to..."

  'A clerical error', Lyle thought. That's some funny shit right there.

  Chapter 3

  The foremen, on both platforms, continued trying to sell their contracts. Despite the crowd of haulers that Lyle knew needed any work they could get, there were few takers on the milk runs they were selling. But even with some haggling on the payoff terms, the work was slowly getting sold.

  He noticed the crowd of haulers was getting larger and elbowed Shorty. "Must be getting close to show time. Do you need me to pick you up so you can see?"

  Shorty didn't answer, but his usual scowl had more wrinkles than usual.

  The foreman had just finished finalizing a sale when he stood up and looked to his partner on the other platform and mouthed something Lyle couldn't quite see. The other foreman nodded back.

  He turned to the crowd. "Gentlemen! I see more of you have gathered here. I know what you're here for and it's time!"

  The haulers cheered. Lyle cheered too, anxious to find out if the job was going to live up to the hype. Shorty suddenly looked serious.

  Lyle took another look around. There definitely was some good competition for this work. He might have to dig into his bag of tricks to secure this contract.

  "I have, in my hand," the foreman continued, "a prime contract from a client that needs a heavy load moved and he needs it done yesterday. The client is offering a prime rate and heavy bonus if this cargo arrived at the destination in thirty-six hours. How does all that sound to you boys?"

  More cheers.

  "Sounds great! Let's bid, already!" Someone said.

  "That is an excellent idea, good sir," The foreman said, tapping keys on his data pad.

  "Boys, who wants to go to...El Dorado!"

  A picture of a rocky planet against a backdrop of distant asteroids and the second of Twin Suns that made up the territories binary star system appeared on the screen behind him. The crowd of haulers began muttering to each other. Some were shaking their heads. Some
threw up their hands, as if to say 'I'm out.'

  The foreman laughed. "That's right, boys, El Dorado. That changes things, doesn't it? The faint of heart need not apply." He tapped a button on his data pad and the terms of the contract appeared on the screen. "This is what you're bidding on – if you're still bidding, that is."

  Lyle looked carefully. "Holy shit! Grey Corporation!" That was a surprise. It didn't have its hands in any one specific enterprise, but rather did anything that would keep the marketplace - and its profits - moving. In a time when the economy of the entire territory was stagnant, Grey Corporation flourished.

  "What did I tell you, son?" Shorty said. "When I get in good with them, I won't have to bid for work no more."

  Lyle nodded. One of the occupational hazards of taking on these bid-for-work contracts was the client couldn't actually pay up, but that wasn't going to be an issue with this one.

  The contract also specified ships that could handle six of the large G-type containers. Others around him must have read that same line as another three dozen bowed out.

  He read the details on the board behind the foreman: Cargo type: Various. Cargo weight: 501673 Kg.

  Lyle rubbed his scraggly chin. 'Various' wasn't unusual, but it was for that weight. Jobs in that weight range are usually moving large quantities of one thing. Was Grey moving a whole apartment building of people? Lyle couldn't imagine that many people wanting to move to El Dorado…ever! Forced relocation? That was a possibility. The screen clearly showed the Authority Customs chop on it which meant whatever was being moved was legal.

  Still, it did seem irregular.

  Shorty started moving his way forward through the crowd. Lyle noticed. It wasn't like him to be so anxious.

  "Here's the meat and potatoes of the deal, boys." The foreman pointed to the compensation clause. "The client has listed the starting pay bid for this run at nine-hundred-eighty-two thousand credits."

  A couple haulers cat-called their approval.