Drifter's Run Read Free Page B

large open space. A transparent dome curved up and over their heads. The planet Snowball hung suspended above them. It seemed ready to fall at any moment.
    Lando assured himself that it wouldn't happen. And given the laws of physics, the moon wouldn't fall on Snowball either.
    The planet had a slightly pink albedo and a surface temperature of -290 degrees F.
    The atmosphere was too thick to see through, but Lando knew most of the planet's surface was covered with oceans of ethane, ebbing and flowing around occasional islands of ice.
    Just great for the robotic gas scoops that cruised the planet's surface but not very good for people. They stayed on the moon.
    The dome's floor was part passenger terminal and part warehouse. All sorts of sentients came and went. Lando saw humans, Finthians, Zords, Lakorians, and a few aliens he couldn't name, all going about their various chores.
    Meanwhile hundreds of machines rolled, whirred, hissed, rumbled, and creaked their way through the crowd.
    There were lowboys stacked high with cargo modules, tall mincing auto loaders stepping over and around sentients and machines alike, and short multi-armed maintenance bots that dashed every which way in a valiant attempt to keep things running.
    Working together the sentients and their machine helpers were trying to load, unload, and service the circle of ships that surrounded the dome.
    There were freighters, couriers, scouts, tankers, and a dozen more. Appearance depended on function, racial preference, and a whole host of other factors. In fact, the only thing the ships had in common was their size. All of them were small. Due to the moon's gravity, and the relatively small dome, larger ships were forced to remain in orbit.
    "Our tender's over there," Melissa said eagerly as she pointed across the dome. "Lock 78."
    Now that negotiations were over Lando noticed that Melissa had undergone a change. The mostly serious business manager had disappeared. In her place was a naturally gregarious little girl. Of the two Lando preferred the second.
    "It's a good thing you're here," Melissa said seriously, "Daddy gets mad when I fly the tender. He says I'm too young. Still, what am I supposed to do when he's sick?
    "Mom flew the tender when she was alive, she could do anything, but that was a long time ago. She died trying to salvage a wreck. Daddy said it would have been a big score, big enough to retire on, but the wreck's drives went critical and blew up. I miss Mommy… but Daddy and I do okay. Do you have any children?"
    An alcoholic father, a dead mother, Melissa's nine or ten years had been far from pleasant. Lando felt a tightness in his throat. "No, Melissa. I don't have any children. But if I did, I'd want a little girl just like you."
    Melissa's eyes shone as she looked up into his face. "Really? You're probably just saying that to be nice, but I like it anyway. We're almost there."
    The robo-porter picked that particular moment to follow a short, stumpy Lakorian toward a distant ship, but was quickly retrieved and guided to Lock 78.
    Melissa touched the red indicator light located next to the lock and was rewarded with a synthesized voice. It said, "Manual override engaged. Please call for attendant."
    Melissa said something ungirlish under her breath and hit the attendant call button.
    It took a while, but eventually a Zord rolled up, stepped off his motorized platform, and examined them with a baleful eye. Like all of his race the Zord was vaguely humanoid. But while the alien had two legs, four armlike tentacles, and a skinny torso, any resemblance to a human ended there. Folds of brown leathery skin hung all over his face, and a writhing mass of tentacles surrounded his oral cavity.
    Because Zords have no vocal apparatus they use the tentacles that surround their oral cavities to communicate via high-speed sign language.
    While Lando knew enough sign language to get by, Melissa was a good deal more proficient, and took charge of the