Barrington Bayley - The Grand Wheel

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, you’d better come right over here. Things are happening. I’ll tell Jerry – don’t be long, now.’

‘What things?’ he started to say, but she cut the connection. The holroom dwindled. He was back in the plastic booth, staring at the scanning plate.

I played it all wrong at the SIS centre, he told himself as he emerged from the booth. I have other information I could have traded – about the Pendragon creature, about Dom’s galactic contacts. But it’s too late now. They’d never believe me.

The drug, he thought suddenly. It was the drug that was responsible for these mental experiences – coupled, probably, with impetus given by the jackpot’s brain-charge. That item, too, he would file away for future reference.

Wearily he trudged towards platform sixteen.

‘What are you, some sort of brain-rotted cripple?’ Soma accused harshly when Scarne reported to his office. ‘You want nurses, or something?’

Scarne was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Soma seemed unwilling or unable to give him more than a few seconds of his attention. He was ferociously busy, glancing through piles of tapes and papers he had stacked on his desk, handing some to an underling who incinerated them, while others went back to file. While he was doing this he barked orders at people who came into the office.

‘Whatever it is, it can be sorted out later,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving. Word just came through: the Legitimacy is staging a raid on Dom’s demesne – the bastards will be sorry for pulling a stunt like that, by Lady. Not that it makes much difference, we have our plans, too. Dom and his retinue are pulling out, to Chasm. That includes you and me.’

‘Chasm,’ Scarne repeated thoughtfully. ‘That’s quite a way from here.’

‘The Legits won’t be able to get their claws on us there,’ Soma said. ‘We were to have had a venue there shortly in any case. We’ve brought our schedule forward a bit, that’s all.’

‘Is it just you and me that are going from here? What about the others?’ Scarne coughed softly.

Soma looked up. He grinned wolfishly. ‘Hungry for your little girl friend, eh? Don’t worry, Cadence is on the list too – if only to keep you happy. You should be proud. You’re one of Dom’s specials.’

Scarne suddenly became concerned for his SIS supply. ‘Have I got time to pack a case?’

‘Don’t be more than five minutes.’

As he left, Cadence passed him on her way into the office, and smiled nervously to see him. He hurried to his apartment and collected what he needed. Minutes later he rejoined her, Soma and three other members of the Make-Out staff in a cubicle elevator which took them all the way to the summit of the tower city.

Scarne stepped out of the cubicle and gazed about him. Below, the landscape was lost in a haze of distance. The city itself was largely occluded from view by the roof platform; only some of the wings and protruberances could be seen, seemingly floating in the air beneath their feet.

Cadence appeared at his elbow. She pointed upwards. ‘Here it comes. Right on cue.’

He followed her gaze. A small shuttlecraft was dropping out of the sky. It came expertly to a stop only a few feet above the platform and hovered there while they boarded.

Then it shot instantly back into the void, heading out. In ten minutes Earth had shrunk to a disk seen through the passenger windows. At the same time a medium-sized ship, interstellar class and Wheel-owned, came rising from Luna to meet them – and not just them, but about a dozen other shuttlecraft that had simultaneously quit the mother planet.

As soon as the passengers had been transferred and the shuttles had receded again, the Wheel ship took its bearings. In minutes it was on course for a destination fifty light-years away.

Somewhere in the ship, as they departed, Marguerite Dom watched a special transceiver. On the holscreen an SIS cruiser was descending towards his now deserted manse, blowing up clouds of moondust. Dom, his face expressionless, watched as SIS commandos poured from the cruiser and disappeared into the building. Then he leaned over to switch off the set, sat back and sighed.

Chasm was a Wheel world; the only such world where the Legitimacy had no vestige of authority. Not that the Legitimacy minded that too much, for Chasm had but one city – also called Chasm – which was what Las Vegas had once been: a place wholly given to gambling, and associated pleasures.

Addicts and pleasure-seekers flocked here from all over man-inhabited space. It was possible to arrive in Chasm’s colourful caverns with a penny and leave a wealthy man. Conversely, games were played here that could never have been staged elsewhere: games in which irresistible prizes were balanced against the risk of serious life impairments – disease, drug addiction, decades-long bondage.

The Wheel ruled here: there was no law except the law of wins and losses.

The name Chasm was a descriptive one. The city was carved into the sides of a deep natural abyss, the only shelter the planet offered from the hundred-mile-per-hour winds which swept its lifeless, rocky surface, and against which Dom’s starship battled as it descended towards the mouth of the chasm.

Below the gaping lip, the air was remarkably calm. The starship rolled into a cavern in the first level of excavations, just under the surface. Scarne disembarked to see the ship disgorging the rest of its passengers and cargo: some dozens of top Wheel operatives, big crates of equipment (and, probably, Pendragon). He saw no sign of Dom, unless he was in the covered hover-litter that hummed towards the elevator shafts and disappeared.

Jerry Soma joined him with Cadence in tow, picking his way through the scattered boxes and loading-trolleys.

‘Ever been to Chasm before?’ he asked.

Scarne shook his head. ‘I’ve never been out of Sol.’

‘Come on, I’ll show you the town.’

They emerged from the cavern on to a broad stone promenade. Chasm’s opposite wall reared massively half a mile away. Scarne looked up and saw what looked like a racing flood leaping across the top of the canyon. The broad-fronted river was wind-borne dust, flowing in complicated streams and tendrils on the surface.

A balustrade, only waist-high, bounded the promenade. He walked to it, peered down – and caught his breath. The abyss simply went down and down, criss-crossed with bridges that merged into a cobweb-like tangle, the walls glowing with coloured lights.

Soma laughed. ‘Quite a sight, huh?’

Scarne drew back. ‘How deep is it?’

‘Five miles. But the city itself only goes down a mile and a half. After that the air gets too thick. Let’s take a dive.’

He led the way to an elevator station. They swooped down with sickening speed – it was like being in a tower city – coming to a stop in a tiled tunnel-like area. Passing through a proscenium arch, they came out on to what was, to all intents and purposes, a crowded street. On one side, the gulf; on the other, an endless procession of gaudy entrances, animated light-signs and barkers.

Cadence hung on Scarne’s arm as he gaped around him. The sky was no more than a crack far above. Seen from here, deep among Chasm’s numerous levels, the plummeting walls were less sheer. Not only were they carved and tunnelled into, they also supported jutting piers, daring walkways, slender bridges, all of which made up a seemingly rickety maze hanging over the abyss.

Out into that abyss, too, floated noise and music, drifting from the levels of the city above and below. Chasm fulfilled its reputation: it was fantastic, and unique.

Then Scarne gave a cry of horror. ‘Look!’