Chapter 2
Wheeb woke up the next morning with his head pounding, his eyes crusted shut, and a foul tasting fuzz in his mouth. As he pried his eyes open, the dingy outlines of a crewman's dormitory slowly took shape in his consciousness. Triple-decker beds were lined up along both sides of the large room, with about half the beds occupied.
Propping himself up on his elbow, Wheeb scanned the nearby beds for familiar faces. His eyes came to rest on a scaly head sticking out from the covers two rows over on the bottom level, and the events of the preceding evening came back to him. Thinking back over the evening, he was surprised he didn't feel worse. Climbing out of bed and standing up, he suddenly realized he did actually feel that bad.
Returning from the relief station, Wheeb clutched the bed rails for support with one hand and his head with the other, as he worked his way down to Quoin's bed. Sitting down heavily on the bed, Wheeb shook Quoin by his arm socket.
"Wha...What is it?...Oh, go away and wake me up when the world stops spinning." Quoin tried to bury his head under the pillow, but Wheeb was insistent. Quoin finally gave up the attempt to deny reality and sat up. "Is it morning already? My head! I'm not sure I had enough fun last night to warrant this much pain."
"Yeah, well the mornin's here, so pain or no pain, ya'd better get moving if ya don't wanna be charged extra for the bed. Don't know about you, but I ain't got no credits to spare."
"I hadn't thought of that. But then again I probably won't be doing much thinking today anyway. Thanks for the advice. What are you going to do?"
"Not real sure. Don't have much of a plan past findin' some breakfast. Kind'a hopin' somethin'll present itself 'tween now and breakfast."
"That sounds like a reasonable beginning. Would you mind some company?"
"Sure, why not? Seems we done all right last night. I'll gamble on a morning."
Wheeb and Quoin found the crewman's cafeteria and selected their food from the endless rows of nondescript platters. Finding a table off to one side, they set to consuming their bland rations more out of expected need than present hunger. Finishing his meal, Quoin said, "Now comes the hard part - figuring where to start looking for a way off the planet. Too bad none of the ideas I vaguely remember discussing last night would work."
"Yeah, too bad. But listen, we're still in orbit. We ain't checked what's down on the surface. Maybe we can find somethin' down there that pays more than the starvation wages 'round here. I got it figured there's no way ya can ever save up passage outta here on what ya can make after expenses. Once they got ya, yer stuck for good."
"Yes, I'd begun to notice that myself. Cost of living up here is higher than the most credits you can earn. You're right - we have to figure out something other than the standard program if we don't want to get trapped. Maybe we should look into what the surface has to offer. I don't recall ever hearing what they do down there - maybe it's such a good deal they don't want people who are trapped up here to find out about it."
A grizzled old spacer at the next table leaned over and said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. I can see you're new here, so's I'll set you straight if you wanna listen. Checking up on jobs on the surface will be a waste of time - there's nothing there."
"Nothing at all?" responded Quoin incredulously. "There's a whole planet there! Surely there must have been something on the planet to attract the sector repair center here."
"Oh, the planet has attractions, but nobody lives on the surface." Obviously, you haven't heard about Ringe. I've got a little time to spare, so I could tell you all about it if you like." Wheeb and Quoin appeared willing to listen so the old spacer pulled his chair over to their table. "First of all, there's no other planet in known space like Ringe. Most of the theories about how it got this way are just guesses. I've been down to the surface as the expedition pilot for the only team of geologists and archaeologists who've ever studied the planet."
Warming to his tale, the old spacer continued, "The way they explained it, Ringe was once an inhabitable planet with an atmosphere, liquid water and all the rest. Civilization developed that dug out all the useful minerals, ores, and isotopes. The geologists ran core samples and there ain't nothing worth going after under the crust - like I said there ain't no place like Ringe.
"Anyway, back to the story. After they couldn't get any more stuff out of the planet, a shortage developed, supplies got tight, and something happened. The scientists I was with couldn't make up their minds what caused it, but it was pretty obvious to me. Things get short, and people fight about what's left. Happens all the time. Only these guys must have had some god-awful weapons. The heat and radioactivity melted the upper surface down to a depth of 10,000 meters - flattening the mountains and filling the seas. Residual radiation kept the molten surface liquid long enough for the planet surface to stratify according to molecular weight.
"End result is that all the usable materials in the planet have been spread evenly over the surface in layers. All ya gotta do is know how deep to dig, and you'll find almost pure metals, minerals, and radioactives. The planet's water and atmosphere boiled and blew away during the fightin', so pure metals and the extraction machinery stay corrosion free forever on the surface.
"No more expeditions have come to study Ringe since. They say there isn't anything left to study - just trace impurities here and there. Theory is that the civilization on Ringe must have destroyed itself before ever getting out into space. Isn't even any sign of them having visited the close moons and planets."
"If there isn't anything on the planet, then what would you suggest as the best method to get back into space?"
"Well, your friend here's right about never being able to save enough money out of what you'll earn here. Hijacking's been tried too often to work anymore. There are some starship captains that have really ugly daughters that you might want to think about. Past that, I think just about every scam to get away from here has been tried."
Wheeb and Quoin thanked the old spacer for his advice and left the cafeteria feeling more hopeless than when they'd entered. "You know," began Quoin, "what it all boils down to is that we need a ship - either passage on someone else's, or since that option seems to be closed, one of our own."
Wheeb turned to stare incredulously at his companion. "You crazy? Ya got any idea how many credits a ship costs? I'm worryin' 'bout how I'm gonna afford to keep eatin', and you're dreamin' 'bout buyin' a ship!"
"There's an old adage that says if you can't get a little money, multiply by 10 and try again. It's pretty obvious we can't get a little money, so we don't have anything to lose by trying for a lot. Once we start sinking into the hole we won't ever get out. So if we're going to sink anyway, we might as well dive in deeply if there's a chance of escaping.
"Besides, the plan I'm thinking of doesn't involve buying a ship - at least not in the conventional sense. Your comment last night about buying the Edis and fixing it up started me thinking. It's too late to do anything about the Edis, but what if we set ourselves up stripping old wrecks and saving the pieces until we had enough to build our own ship.
"There's pretty stiff competition for good salvage, so we'd have to be content with the marginal cases. We'd have to sell most of the parts in order to keep the operation solvent, but if we worked hard and were careful, we could eventually accumulate enough pieces to assemble a complete ship. What do you think?"
"Do ya really think we can build a whole ship by ourselves? I mean, a ship ain't jus' some back yard project."
"We wouldn't be building the ship from scratch," reasoned Quoin. "We'd just be connecting the pieces together. Granted, it would still be a lot of work, but if it would get us out of here, I think it would be worth it. If we do it right, we'd even have the beginnings of a small freight business - the dream of every spacehand. Come on, where's all that gung-ho spirit you humans are always bragging about? Are you saying all those tales last night were just stories?"
Wheeb had visions of being marooned in the galactic wastes, or having his body reduced to component molecules by an explosion. His confidence wasn't enhanced by the memory that the service crew decided that Quoin's modifications had to be replaced. But he had gotten more than a little carried away with his bragging the night before. Most of the tales Wheeb could remember telling had probably happened - only maybe not to him personally. He had to admit that most of his best stories were ones he'd heard in spacer bars.
Since Quoin didn't seem to have heard the stories before, Wheeb had expropriated the lead role for himself, and enjoyed the reaction his stories produced. At least at the time. Now it seemed that all his bragging was coming home to haunt him. He wasn't at all sure he could live up to the reputation he'd created for himself in Quoin's eyes. But he'd also had so many reversals lately that he didn't want to add another. He decided to go along with the conversation - at least until it seemed that he was putting more on the line than he had to give.
"Hey, I got plenty spirit, but I like to look before I leap. What I can't figure is where yer coming from. Gandhrins is famous for their caution. Ain't supposed to make a move 'less it's a sure thing. This makin' a ship outta scrap parts don't sound like the safest project. Service crew didn't think much of yer work on the Edis. I'm up for tryin' somethin' that might work, but I try not to be stupid."
Quoin responded testily, "There's nothing wrong with my sense of caution - I wouldn't be suggesting the idea if I wasn't sure it could be done. And as for my work on the Edis, it didn't blow up did it? The drive problem was the predicted failure of an ion pump. It didn't have anything to do with the equipment I built. If those idiots on the service crew could see farther than their manuals, the Edis would still be hauling cargo. Now if you want to spend the rest of your life here on Ringe, hoping for a berth on what ever fugitive from the scrapyard happens to put in here with its crew already dead, or so eager to get off they'd rather take a chance on Ringe than stay with the ship, you go right ahead and scoff. I think that would be taking a bigger chance than what I'm suggesting."
While Quoin paused for breath, Wheeb broke in, "All right, maybe yer idea's OK. Ya can't fault me for wantin' to look at all the angles. Now supposin' I do agree to join this scheme - how we gonna set it up?"
"Well ah...let me think a minute." Quoin's mind scrambled to come up with a viable sounding plan now that he had Wheeb's interest. He'd just been thinking out loud when he mentioned the vague idea of building a ship out of salvaged parts. Now that he'd voiced the idea, Quoin realized just how much he wanted to give it a try. He also realized he needed more than wanted Wheeb to join in building the ship.
Quoin knew that despite his tough talk of a moment before, he would never be able to shed enough of his natural caution to try the project alone. When Wheeb was around with his tales of adventure and daring, Quoin felt he could push the limits of his own daring a little farther. If nothing else, he knew that a project as large as what he envisioned would require some kind of partner. There were some things that just couldn't be done by one person regardless of his species.
An idea flashed into Quoin's mind. "First of all, we find out where the pilots of the scrap shuttles congregate. We can find out from them which salvage outfit sends out the richest scrap - the scrap with the most equipment still intact. We go to that salvage yard and offer to buy their scrap for a little more than they're getting from the smelters. We then finish stripping the last pieces out of the scrap and sell what we can't save to the smelters for the original price they would have paid the salvage yard. We can work our way up from there to buying whole wrecks and doing the whole salvage job. Can you think of a better way?"
Wheeb admitted that he couldn't, and agreed to go along with Quoin's plan at least as far as checking out the situation. They made a few inquiries and were directed to a seedy dispatching office deep in what was referred to as the smelter belt.
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Wheeb slapped the control stick on the rented transport pod back and forth, dodging around the odd chunks of scrap that had escaped the furnaces and littered the smelter belt. Wheeb was obviously having a good time - going as fast as he could, only slowing down when they encountered other traffic or particularly dense swarms of lose junk. Quoin was huddled down in his seat with his eyes shut and his body braced for the collision he was sure would happen at any minute. "Are we there yet?" inquired Quoin plaintively.
"Almost," replied Wheeb reassuringly. "Wouldn't look yet if I was you. Swarms are real dense this close to the furnaces. Couple minutes an' we'll be docking at the dispatchin' office." Wheeb punctuated his remarks with a series of gut wrenching twists and turns - most of which were necessary, but which Wheeb had to admit he could have executed with much less force.
Wheeb maneuvered the pod up to a temporary parking bay on the office structure. The only construction requirements practiced in Ringe were atmospheric tightness and cheap materials, and Wheeb at first mistook the dispatching office for just another swarm of scrap that seemed a little denser than most. The offices, shops, residences - in short nearly every object except the ships being worked on themselves - were constructed of odd pieces of scrap welded together to form what served as buildings. Only when they got close could Wheeb make out that it was a solid structure. Quoin didn't open his eyes until Wheeb had carefully docked the air lock hatch with the gasket on the office structure.
"Ya can open yer eyes now," said Wheeb as he shut down the drive on the pod. "We gotta get our answers quick and get outta here 'cause we're in one hour parking."
"Just so long as we're stopped, I will be grateful. I shall endeavor to stretch my questions out for the entire hour."
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Inside the dispatching office, Wheeb and Quoin found the interior just as cobbled together as the exterior. An ancient ex-spacer floated in front of a dispatching panel constructed out of an odd mixture of mismatched components strapped together with a maze of wires and cables. Lounging around the adjacent crew ready room was an equally odd assortment of shuttle pilots.
Finding themselves ignored by the dispatcher, Wheeb and Quoin moved on to the ready room. Working down opposite sides of the room, they asked their questions of nearly every shuttle pilot there. The next-to-last pilot on Quoin's side of the room was a scruffy potbellied old codger who was obviously well past his prime. Sporting a faded pair of spacer coveralls and a three-day-old stubble, the shuttle pilot presented a generally disheveled appearance. But when Quoin asked about the scrap he hauled, he became suspicious. "Might know the answers to what you're askin', but you're gonna have to tell me why you wanna know first."
Quoin sized up the old codger and decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him. After Quoin explained the bare essentials of their plan, the old codger introduced himself as Villousence Macdraus - otherwise known as Villy.
"That's one of the best schemes to get off Ringe I've heard for a long time," remarked Villy. "If I were a couple dozen years younger, I'd probably wanna tie in with you two. But as it is, sure I'll help you out. The yard you wanna talk to is the Hurvense Salvage Yard. They only high grade the stuff they handle. I haul out of there all the time, an' I'm always seeing good stuff in their scrap. It just so happens I'm due to haul a load out of Hurvense in a couple hours. You two wanna come along, we could throw your pod in the cargo hold."
Quoin was thrilled by the offer and motioned Wheeb to join them. When Quoin explained the situation, Wheeb couldn't help but agree - even though a lump rose in his throat with the realization that by agreeing he was in essence committing himself to the project.
Quoin, true to his word, found reasons to dawdle in the crew ready room until their one hour parking limit had expired. After returning to the pod, Wheeb and Quoin took a sedate tour of the furnaces for three hours until the appointed time to meet the scrap shuttle. Gliding carefully though the floating debris hazards, Wheeb came up on the meeting place and cut back his speed. "Don't see nothin'," observed Wheeb. "Ya sure these are the coordinates where he said to meet?"
"Yes, we're in the right place. Are you sure you don't see him?"
"Well look for yerself. Ya see him anywhere?"
"I can't see anything. I have my eyes closed."
"Oh for Ordan's burn, Quoin, ya can open your eyes now we've .... Wheeb stopped in mid sentence as a huge shape suddenly filled his view screen. Wheeb, Quoin and their pod were just insignificant specks next to the monster that slid out of the floating litter into view.
"Well, Zewan a Vecky, will ya look at the size of that thing!" exclaimed Wheeb, jostling Quoin with his elbow to get him open his eyes.
"Oh my yes!" agreed Quoin. "It must be huge! I don't see the end of it in the view screen."
"Think I can see the control cabin. There it is, and there's Villy in the bubble givin' directions."
Wheeb pointed out the tiny clear blister on the skin of the shuttle. Quoin could just barely make out the shape of Villy motioning them to come closer and then to stop. Wheeb stopped the pod and they hung motionlessly in space wondering what was going to happen next.
"A ship that size must have a reasonable sized cabin, chattered Quoin nervously. I'll be glad to get out of this tiny little pod. I swear some of those loose chunks of scrap are twice the size of this pod. Wonder when we'll be able to board. You know, I don't see an air lock on...Gaach!"
Quoin's wondering was cut short as a grappling arm came up from behind the view screen and closed over the pod. Between the claws, Wheeb and Quoin could see a crack form in the side of the shuttle and grow into a yawning black hole as the cargo doors opened. Suddenly the claw, with the pod in its clutches, rushed at the opening in the shuttle. Quoin shut his eyes again and even Wheeb cringed a little as they were engulfed by the blackness. Instead of the horrendous crash that seemed imminent, the arm slowed suddenly and deposited the pod gently in the hold.
The claw released the pod and withdrew, allowing a sliver of light from the open cargo door to show on the view screen. But even that was quickly extinguished as the doors closed. With darkness all around them, and only the instrument lights for illumination, Wheeb and Quoin could only sit wondering as they felt the shuttle get under way.
The elapsed time was hard to judge sitting in the darkness, but it seemed to stretch for hours. The sliver of light returned at last as the cargo doors opened. They were better prepared this time when the grapple reached down and engulfed them, and only cringed a little as it closed in.
The grapple released the pod about 20 meters away from the control blister. They could see Villy facing the rear of the shuttle operating the grapple controls. With the grappling arm stowed away, Villy turned around in the tiny blister and flipped switches on the forward control panel. Wheeb and Quoin could see why they hadn't been invited aboard - there wasn't any control room, just the blister. And there was only just enough room for Villy in the blister.
Wheeb and Quoin were startled out of their observations by Villy's voice booming out of the pod's comm speaker. "I got to let you hitchhikers out here before I head for the dock. Place you want is over there." Villy gestured over at a large collection of the free form structures. All around the structures were ships in various stages of disassembly, and a general sense of hustle and bustle as small utility vehicles flitted around the hulks. "There'll be signs to guide you to the office. Gotta' go now. Good luck on your scheme!"
Wheeb and Quoin saw Villy turn to the controls, and the huge bulk of the shuttle moved smoothly away. It only took a moment to see why all the loose scrap floating around wasn't cleaned up. As the shuttle got under way, Villy activated the forward deflector screens and a clear path though the debris appeared. Wheeb, realizing an opportunity was presenting itself, waited until the shuttle's drive field had passed, and then followed the shuttle through the tunnel in the debris.
Quoin was so pleased with this arrangement that he kept his eyes open. As they turned out of the tunnel into the parking area, Wheeb remarked, "Figures. Let their scrap get in everybody's way, but here they keep the space clear!"
Wheeb flew through the cleared space and up to a parking slot. Maneuvering carefully, he docked the airlock hatch against the gasket on the office structure, and then shut down the drive. With his finger poised over the air lock cycle switch, Wheeb turned to Quoin and said, "Do we really wanna do this? I gotta feeling if I press this switch, there ain't no turnin' back. Maybe we should think 'bout it a bit longer."
Quoin felt his own resolve weakening and the whole project starting to slip away. With a sudden surge of desperation born of almost having his best chance of escaping from Ringe almost in hand, and then seeing it fall just out of reach, Quoin lunged forward and slammed Wheeb's finger down on the switch. As the airlock started to open, Quoin was amazed at what he'd just done, but he didn't pause to reflect. Trying to keep the momentum of the moment going until it was too late to turn back, Quoin pushed himself through the hatch.
Wheeb, feeling that events were rapidly slipping out of his control, helplessly followed Quoin. He had a feeling of unease about the impending events, but since he couldn't pin down anything in particular as the source of his distress, he allowed himself to be carried along with the flow.