Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [88]
‘Who said that we rejected science?’ Adam said. ‘Living on this planet you need all the help you can get. What I reject is the arrogance of the Scientifica. They think that they can solve everything if they throw enough scientists at it. At the same time, they forbid research into a vast number of areas and they frown on individualism.’
‘You sound bitter,’ Tegan said. She of all people knew a grudge when she heard it. ‘Anything personal?’
‘I’m not some Scientifica reject, if that’s what you mean.
I come from a mining family. When my father was born he knew that he’d have a job for life. By the time I came of age, a robot had my job.’
‘So you hate robots?’
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘You’re quite the amateur psycho-analyst, aren’t you? It’s the Scientifica I hate. They run this planet. Their system is meant to run like clockwork but it doesn’t. So they ignore the uncomfortable facts to balance their precious “equations” and “calculations”. Meanwhile a thousand people starve because they’ve missed off a decimal place. The world would be a lot better off without them.’
‘What would you put in their place?’
The comer of Adam’s mouth curled. ‘A smoking crater, given half the chance.’
‘And the government?’
‘Anything would be better than the Scientifica, believe me. They called in three legions of Adjudicators to enforce their law. You should have seen them arrive in the frostlands, gunning down anyone in warpaint because they were traitors.’
‘That doesn’t excuse terrorism,’ the Doctor said ‘You don’t target railway stations and shopping centres if your dispute is with the military.’
‘Don’t believe everything you see on their holoscreens.
You’d think that I was to blame for every crime on the planet. I’m a scapegoat, an easy solution.’
‘You’re really Robin Hood, then?’ Tegan said sceptically.
‘No,’ he cackled, ‘I’m usually robbing skitrains. I’m just a highwayman, a common thief. My friends are the pushers who sell the Scientifica’s kids bleep and booster to perk up their nights out. I hang around with alien smugglers like Quint and his brother. I know I’m better than them, though. I don’t think that justice is on my side. I don’t think I’ve cracked the secret of the universe. I’m scum, just an ape who’s got above himself. The difference is that I know it.’
Medford stepped from the lift onto the bridge of the Battle Platform. Three officers were manning the command post.
They stopped what they were doing to salute him.
‘Justice by your side!’ they chanted.
‘And fairness be your friend,’ Medford replied. ‘Is the response team ready?’
It was Dareau that answered. The Adjudicator-Lieutenant was a small man with a permanent sneer on his face. ‘Yes sir. We can put them on the ground anywhere on the planet in two minutes.’ This was an orbital platform designed as a command post. In the early stages of a conflict it would co-ordinate communications traffic and troop movements of a battlezone. Normally it was a module of the Icarus Skybase but in emergencies such as this it detached and took up a tighter orbit around the colony.
‘Show me the freighter.’
The lighting in the control room dimmed and the hologram pit lit up. The freighter was ploughing along the tops of the clouds. By the side of the image, a tactical map appeared. The interceptor was following the freighter at a discreet distance. The picture was coming from a robot camera mounted on the nose of that plane.
‘What are the sensors showing?’
‘Three lifeforms. Apart from that, there’s nothing: the hold’s empty,’
Or shielded.
Medford asked the tactics officer to assess the skills of the person flying the freighter.
‘He’s good. Those Type Twelves are difficult to handle in an atmosphere, and he’s managing to keep it steady even though he’s not using the flight computer. He’s also keeping us guessing – we’ve got no idea where he’s planning to go.’
‘He’s just entered the northern frostlands. Sir, he’s coming in to land.’
‘You’re kidding?’
They were planning