pg.25 "Heard worse." What was he up to? A muckraking colum- nist from a publication like Spiral Arm Today doesn't just show up on a wreck like the Nimbus Colony for fun. He had to be after a story. Riggs tingled with a newsman's hunch. He knew he was onto something. Nimbus was an absolute disaster - para- lyzed, almost. There were more security mutants on board that miners. The ore had stopped coming up from the planet quite a while ago, but the United Mining Corporation was still reporting major yields. He knew that from the SpaceWave intercepts that Druella scanned for him. Grey had to be lying to everybody, including the press. The mines would be close to shut down, Riggs calculated. All that expensive machinery would be just sitting down there on the golden sand, rusting, slowly turing turquoise in the thick Borgian atmosphere. soon the scavengers would be orbiting like sharks: vast junker ships with green three- armed giants at the controls - Kargons, junkers to the galaxy. the salvage yards of Karg were famous throughout the Slug Nebula. There was hardly a working ship that didn't have at least one part obtained from the Kargons. They had every kind of ship ever built anywhere, piles of them, a parts farm. Riggs had been there, but not just to see that. Karg was also the site of the Gak Academy. Riggs shifted uncom- fortably in his seat. "I guess Riggs is as good a name for a star as Kangor." Kangor was Karg's main star. "By the way, who did that painting?" Grey glanced at the painting. It was a lousy painting. Osten- sibly a landscape of Borg - but the artist had obviously never seen Borg, only read about it. The planet in this painting was covered with silica, decom- posed from sandstone. The actual Borgian surface was pyrite and mica, flecks of the stuff in a layer several miles deep. pg.26 Miners had to put metaplast tubes through it just to reach the ore-bearing strata, which accounted for most of the expense of the UMC's Borgian operation. Walking on that sur- face was like walking through dry soup, Grey remembered. The Artist depicted deep, rocky canyons, barren except for a few thick vines. In fact, the canyons were volcanic rifts, miles deep, choked with jungle and debris. The debris showed dis- tinct strata, indicating sudden die-backs approximately 3,000 years apart. All the strata that had been studied, Grey knew, showed a marked decrease in higher plant forms after each die-back. Spectrochromatographic test results hinted at periodic cataclysms of unknown origin. The artist must have read about the carnivorous vines. Sure, there were still vines in places, and Grey had scars to prove it. But they were dying out. Unfortunately for them, they tended to grow down cliffs and ravines, dangling in places where carnous life was scarce. Sometimes a poor Lau would wander by; then there would be flowers in that spot and the other Lau would avoid it. Those were the flowers, reflected Grey, that they used to manufacture their sacred narcotic. They called it Magic. Grey had experienced it, once.... The intellegence cringes; its luminosity writhes away from the colony hull. The elder Terran is thinking thoughts he has no right to think, recalling memories that are forbidden all but the Lau. But in the wide universe, indignation and anger are inconsequential. The great eyes widen. The mind again peers into the small office. "I think a machine did that painting, to tell the truth", said Nathan Grey. pg.27 The other guy laughed, rubbing a ring on his left hand. Grey noticed the inlaid insignia, which could have held a printed circuit, or maybe a chip. What device did it operate? Abruptly, he asked, "When are you leaving us?" The guy stopped laughing and shrugged. "I haven't made any plans", he said, meeting Grey's eyes. "I take it you've been reading my columns?" "No I haven't had time", said Grey blandly. "Have you writ- ten about Nimbus Colony already? I thought you roving cor- respondents filed on SpaceWave twice a day. I haven't noticed any transmissions to Spiral Arm Today on our log." "I've been slipping them in", said the guy a bit to quickly. "Those little columns only take a half-second burst." But Grey was suspicious now. He glanced at the ring. A shielded transmitter? "Anyway", the guy continued, "Mr. Gibbons wants me to stay, see what UMC might be up to out here. As a matter of fact, I might want to get down to Borg. Would you mind arranging that?" Grey almost snorted. "Impossible, of course. As you are aware, Borg is a Class IV planet." "Why?" "I'd have to be a Federation agent to know that," said Grey with a soft laugh that sounded like a loose rock sliding downhill. "Or a smuggler", said the guy, and Grey's mind registered a thought that sent the eavesdropping entity reeling... The gaseous eyes drift outside the hull. the intelligence watches a the young Terran woman stroll jauntily out of the office, but doesn't follow. The Nate Grey Terran intrests it more. The cloud hovers outside the colony dome as the aware- ness watches Grey punch a button on his desk. pg.31 "Grgla! Hey - stop filling your face and get in here!" Nate Grey had to avoid looking at his receptionist when it appeared in the doorway. Why couldn't he have had a Terran female for a secretary? Unfortunately, the UMC was an Equal Enitity Employer... "Have you been saving those SpaceWave tabloids? I want to see the current issues of Spiral Arm Today." "Certainly Mr. Grey", honked Grgla, flouncing out. The floor shook. In a few moments Grey had a stack of the cheesy publications on his desk. He flipped through the top one, started reading a groaned. The latest edition of the beam- published newspaper carried stories in many languages. One of several in Terran was a popular column called Be Here Now, by award-winning reporter-at-large J.Delbert Riggs. BE HERE NOW By J.Delbert Riggs ------------------ No Silver Lining on Nimbus (part one) DATELINE: UMC Nimbus Colony, Slug Nebula As you read these words, a bizarre drama is being played out in this forsaken corner of pg.32 nowhere, on a sleazy industrial satellite and the mysterious desert planet it orbits. The cast of characters includes intergalactic dropouts, smugglers, murderers, at least one Federation agent, and an ancient civilization of mystical beings called the Lau. Just to make the plot a little thicker, the star player - a powerful Lau shaman known by the name Garbo - may not even exist. The scenario is convoluted, to say the least. And there's only one reporter who has managed to gain an overview of the whole sordid mess: Yours truly, J.Delbert Riggs. I'm here now. Still reading? Good. Here's what I have so far: A band of space pirates - "Breakers" in Slug Nebula Standard Received (SNSR) has estab- lished a headquarters in deep volcanic rifts on this Class IV desert orb called Borg. For some time now, according to Federation sources, the Breakers on Borg have been using Nimbus Colony as a base for Galaxy-wide smuggling operations. This orbiting junkpile is allegedly owned and operated byt the omni-present United Mining Cor- poration (UMC), which ostensibly uses it as an operational base for mineral recovery on Borg. (The astute reader will recall that UMC recently acquired exclusive mineral rights to Borg follow- ing a protracted legal power-playa directed by UMC executive Nathan Grey. See my column, Where the Heck is Borg? in SAT # 449681-B.) I say ostensibly, because quite frankly it is rather hard to believe anybody owns this colony - or "klink" in SNSR - and harder to imagine it's actually being operated at all. Token work crews do shuttle down and back regularly, but no ore has been shipped out for months. According to the company's own geological projections, the latvium deposit they were working should have been exhausted by now. So why does Nimbus Colony remain in fixed orbit? More to the point, why is the klink deserted except for a skeleton workforce, and oversize departement of fierce mutant security cops - known as "Gaks" in SNSR - and of dropouts, drifters, adventurers and other deep-space detritus - "Breakers" in SNSR - confined in a wrecked bar on the utility level of a deserted residential module? Why, indeed. Having been assigned to quarters in that very module - and yes, it is quite deserted - I unavoid- ably made contact with these Breakers in my first few hours here. They are most certainly a motley pg.33 and a dangerous bunch. But I can assure you that the Breakers are a far better company that their adversary, the Gaks. At last, I can appreciate the recent rash of "Gak jokes" (How many Gaks does it take to catch a red ball, etc.) - although I now know I wasn't missing much. They are stupid, sadistic, scum- bags, and I've said as much to their visors. You can't ever see their faces - which is probably just as well. (Tomorrow: Breakers - the Entities your Mother Warned You About) "Damn!" howled Nathan Grey. "That wulla-brain! Why now? Why him? Damn!" Angrily, he grabbed the next issue on the pile and continued reading. BE HERE NOW By J.Delbert Riggs ------------------ No Silver Lining on Nimbus (part two) DATELINE: UMC NIMBUS COLONY, SLUG NEBULA In the last column, I sketched the particulars of a bizarre drama now playing on the UMC colony, Nimbus. I'm here now. pg.34 There is a species of spacefarer known as a Breaker. That's a loose synonym for adventurer, shuttlebum, pirate, outlaw, loser, and any other kind of misfit one might care to avoid mention- ing - or associating with. For reason or reasons unknown, virtually all the Breakers in the Slug Nebula are now on Borg. Most of them have been trapped on Nimbus Colony, but a fair number seem to be making it down to the planet, where they join up with a band of smugglers headquartered in Borg's deep volcanic rifts. The Breakers on Borg are lead by a former Federation agent, professional ballet dancer and convicted murderer named Vulkos Mulcahy. Little is known about Mulcahy except that he's fast, smart and treacherous. His sidekick is a wicked punk who currently goes by the name Don. Mulcahy's mistress is Minnie Markarova, the one-time pride of Sector X's Paris Colony and Mulcahy's ballet instructor until she fell under his spell. Minnie dropped out of sight after help- ing him extort virtually every cent in the Paris Colony Ballet's operating fund. (See my column, Minnie Makarova, Bad Girl or Pawn? in SAT # 4449677-B.) This unsavory trio, and a bunch of their closer friends, are now working out of Borgian Rifts. They reportedly deal in some especially unsa- vory contraband: slaves and narcotics. It seems that some of the Lau - a particularly gentle folk said to possess unique telekinetc poweres - have been turning up in chains on other worlds. Pets of the rich? I'm told by my close personal friend Druella Comstock, the glamor- ous shuttle-set ingenue, that having your own Lau is the height of the current top-drawer chic. Immoral? Certainly. Illegal? Of course. In fact, it stinks - but that's the rich for you (close personal friends excepted, Druella, and I mean that). Mulcahy's contact on Nimbus Colony is a vet- eran bootlegger whose name is known to shcool- kids in every system from here to Andromeda: the legendary, nearly mythical Casey Jones himself, another former Federation agent turned smuggler, killer, and thief. But before we start inquiring into the basic nature of Federtation agents, let's get to the crux of the matter. Jones and Mulcahy are duking it out. it seems that the two master criminals - one controlling the source of contraband, the other its distri- bution - are now going for each other's throats in an all-out war over the proceeds of their nefarious trade. pg.35 Enter the mysterious Federation agent. Nobody, not even inside sources who have never before let me dowwn - at any price - will reveal who this agent is, but all concur that he or she is the best they have. The agent is allegedly on Nimbus Colony even as I write this. In fact, it's quite likely that I spoke with the agent in the Breaker bar, but I would have know way of knowing. Keep in mind that Mulcahy and Jones were both Federation agents at one time. Incredibly, Nathan Grey was also a Fed before his early retirement to join UMC. Confused yet? pg.35 cont.. At any rate, the deal seems to be about to go down here on Nimbus Colony or, more probably, on Borg itself. Any yours truly, intrepid cor- respondent that I am, has every intention of witnessing it. Meanwhile, mysterious ore freighters continue to stop here regularly. They take on cargo - but it sure isn't ore. So far nobody here cares to recall (for a reporter's benefit, anyway) what the last one looked like or who was aboard. Grey has agreed to give SAT an interview at some point, but never seems to be in his Adminis- tration Module office, or anywhere else, when this reporter shows up to talk. That's okey for now. I have other leads to pursue. Sources in the Breaker bar have told me that Casey Jones works out of a concealed room near the shuttle bay on the lower level of this colony. As soon as I make a final attempt to see Grey, I'm going down to find Jones and interview him on the situation. I trust he'll keep his famous Colt .45 holstered out of respect for the press. That's it, I'm on my way. (Tomorrow: Casey Jones - the Rat Behind the Legend) "That dirty...Grgla!" The hideous receptionist slithered into the office with the flange-file in one limp claw. Grey shouted at it on his way out. "I'm away from my desk, in a meeting and with a client until further notice, got it?" "Sure thing, sir" said Grgla, already making plans. pg.39 The vast intelligence probes the receptionist's mind, but Grgla has a powerful mental scrambler in place. Turning into the maze of corridors and pod chutes to locate Nathan Grey, the intellegence comes across Riggs in his residential module. Riggs is talking withe someone called Druella. The intelligence is mystified - it can't locate another function- ing mind in the module. Nonetheless, it tunes in: "Druella", said Riggs, "I'd like to go over that material on Borg again." "Okay, Delbert", responded a perky voice. "Coming right up." There was a melodious beep. Touching the young Terran's mind, the intellegence read along with him in a book called All About Borg, by famed explorer Captain Brumus Dart, Ph.D. The table of contents listed the chapter headings typical of a scholarly work. Riggs turned to the one titled, Garbo: Alter-Orb or Legend? He began to read: pg.40 GARBO Alter-Orb or Legend? According to Lau belief, Borg has a shadowy, insubstan- tial twin that orbits on the same path (see Appendix Q: Source Mythology, Borg and Garbo). Our instruments have not been able to detect such an entity, but the Lau believe in it absolutely. They call this alter-orb Garbo, and have invested it with a persona which is manifested collectively by a body of seven Lau shaman. (Note: I was never able to meet a "Garbo" shaman, and wonder whether they, too, may not be a figment of the Lau mythology.) Moreover, they believe that the mysterious alter-orb is the wellspring of Lau energy, and the source of all life on Borg. They say that a kind of balanced polarity exists between the unique forces emanated by each of Borg's two suns, the blue and the gold. These forces are held in dynamic stasis by energy from the Garbo alter-orb. (Note: This is my interpretation of the various indistinct, incom- plete, and often incomprehensible versions of the Garbo myth obtained from individual Lau. It should be treated as hearsay.) Perhaps the most familiar facet of the Garbo myth is its apocalyptic emphasis. Like so many other deities, this Garbo creates through destruction. The Lau believe that once every several thousand years, the orbital paths of the two