Barrington Bayley - The Grand Wheel

Someone had fallen from one of the overhanging structures. The figure came tumbling through the air, narrowly missing an arched bridge, limbs flailing. Scarne saw the victim’s face – a man’s – as it swept past them barely yards away, eyes staring and the mouth drawn into the Oh of a soundless scream. Then it was gone.

Soma cackled. ‘Oh, you’ll soon get used to that. It happens all the time. Every few minutes, in fact.’

Scarne stared at him blankly. ‘But why?’

‘Just the natural accident rate. Don’t look so shocked, Cheyne, it isn’t any greater than the rate for automobile accidents on Mars or somewhere like that. It’s just more visible, that’s all. Think about it: Chasm has a population at any average time of a third of a million people. They slip off a bridge or something occasionally; and then there’s suicides. The point is, there’s only one way for them to go, and that’s down this narrow chasm where everybody can see them.’

‘But why not have safety nets?’

‘This is Chasm,’ Soma answered, his mouth firming. ‘Come on, we have to get to our quarters. There’s a lot to sort out.’

They walked along the street. Scarne had already noticed, in point of fact, that, as on the top level, all balustrades protecting pedestrians from the gulf were only waist-high.

Cadence seemed to notice his questioning stares. She gave his arm a squeeze.

‘It’s like he says,’ she told him. ‘Just a normal accident rate. You soon get used to it.’

Do you? he wondered. But people who came here, he reflected, had attuned themselves to the idea of risk. They were looking to win; some were looking to lose. But other people’s losses were a matter of indifference.

They turned into the lobby of a hotel. Scarne took a last look up into the gulf. Far above, falling fast, were two small figures, one a woman’s, the other, even smaller, probably a child’s. Still holding hands, tipped upside down, they went hurtling together towards the depths.

The Straight Flush restaurant was built on a platform that extended out over emptiness and gave an excellent overall view of the chasm city. Here, while eating or whiling away his time over drinks or beverages, the customer could gaze down into the ever-busy gambling metropolis and, protected from falling objects and bodies by a transparent sloping roof, drink in the lurid scene that was like a visionary’s painting of one of the minor departments of Hades.

Scarne sat near the edge of the semi-circular ledge, sipping coffee laced with rum, an extremely worried man.

Though he had more than one problem, the most pressing of them was that his last spray-can of SIS drug would not last more than a few weeks now. Here in Chasm the holo numbers he had been given were useless, so he had no direct means of renewing his supply.

But he had hope. There would be Legitimacy agents in Chasm, he reasoned. If they knew that Dom had brought him here they might contact him.

During the starship journey he had come directly under Dom’s tutelage. The work was taxing; therefore every fourth day was his own. On these rest days he deserted Cadence and tried to make himself available, establishing a routine round of the city, visiting one or two of the big casinos, the displays, and a leisurely hour or two, always at the same time, at the Straight Flush .

A shadow fell across him.

‘Mind if I sit here?’ a voice said.

Scarne made a vague gesture. ‘Of course not.’

His heart thumped as he studied the face of the man who sat down at the table. He didn’t recognize him.

The stranger pointed into the gulf. ‘Weird, isn’t it? Some might say scary.’

‘A lot different from Earth, or Tycho,’ Scarne agreed.

‘Are you new to Chasm?’

‘Yes.’ The man leaned suddenly forward and rattled off one of Scarne’s holbooth numbers. ‘You’re moving fast, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’

Scarne shrugged, glancing around him, wondering for the thousandth time if the Wheel had tabs on him. ‘Marguerite Dom brought me out here. It wasn’t my idea to stage that raid on Luna. That was a real hick move, wasn’t it?’

‘Based on information supplied by you.’ The agent’s voice came to him in a metallic, bitter-tasting tone. ‘But nothing was found.’

‘Of course not! You ought to have known Dom’s own intelligence service is good enough to tip him off about any developments of that kind. He’s got people everywhere, he’s probably better informed than you are.’

The Legitimacy agent took the sideswipe insult without overt reaction. ‘Did Dom bring the goods with him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘We figure he must have. He’s making this place his base. The mathematical cadre is here.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Scarne said truthfully. There had been a lot of people on the ship; he had seen only a few of them.

‘Apparently you’re quite a protege. You’re right close to the centre.’

‘I’m only a trainee. Nothing’s definite yet.’

‘A trainee for what?’

‘A games player of some sort.’ He hesitated. ‘For one of their special clubs, or something, I think.’

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell his Legitimacy masters what the game really was, not if his suspicions, his horrible but all-too-probable suspicions were true. Because he knew what the Legitimacy’s reaction would be, once they had confirmed his story. Indeed they would see very little choice, desperate though the recourse would be. Chasm would be the first world to be delivered a planet-busting bomb. Other Wheel-dominated worlds would also be destroyed, in short order. It was fairly certain, too, that the Wheel would have some means of retaliating to all this. And the Hadranics would walk in to trample on what was left.

‘Listen,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to contact me. Did you bring me a supply?’

‘Supply?’

‘ My supply! The aerosols!’ He became suddenly impatient, irritable.

The agent chuckled mockingly. ‘You’ll be all right for a while yet. You know the arrangement.’ He bent his head forward, glaring at Scarne from beneath raised eyebrows. ‘Now you listen to me . All the Wheel big shots are in Chasm right now. It’s a regular convention – we reckon they’re making this the Grand Wheel’s capital. We’re certain the data is here, and the equipment to make it effective too, if any exists. Find it!’

‘You’ve got Chasm crawling with agents,’ Scarne retorted. ‘ You find it.’

The Legitimacy man spread his hands. ‘You don’t even have to procure it yourself. You only have to lead us to it.’

Scarne grimaced. ‘How can you be sure there are any… there is the data you want?’

‘You know it as well as we do. There’s no doubt, at this stage.’ The agent gave a monitory tap on the table-top. ‘You’re the man who’s placed to get it – so get it . That’s an order that comes from high up, from way up, and you’re on the spot. Time’s running out for you, isn’t it, Scarne? You’ve got about two weeks, so I’m told. You’d better hear this – nothing else is coming to you . You either get released, or you get nothing.’

‘You really want this information bad, don’t you?’ Scarne said, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

‘That’s outside your brief – and mine,’ the other answered sternly, with a wave of his hand. ‘Just do what’s required of you.’

Scarne nodded. ‘You really need it. Why, I wonder? It’s the war, isn’t it? We’re going to lose the war, unless the government can pull something out of the hat pretty soon.’

The agent stiffened. He stared at Scarne in disgust. ‘You’re talking crap,’ he said. ‘The Legitimacy doesn’t lose wars. Ever.’