Free Freehold by William C. Dietz

highest bidder. It was rumored that they had developed secret weapons of incredible power with which to defend their artificial world. So far, no one had tried them on for size.
    “And what did our high-priced friends have to say?” Stell asked.
    “They say the folks on Freehold have come up with an interesting source of revenue. One which will make them very rich, if they can produce it in quantity ... if they can get it to market, that is. The eggheads told me they'd been puzzling over the stuff coming out of Freehold for some time. So, using their existing research, plus the information I provided, they were able to do a pretty good analysis. Evidently, that maze of pipes and stuff is all part of a sophisticated water-filtration system. So sophisticated that the brains estimate it's capable of filtering out a piece of matter only a couple of microns across. The stuff on the work bench confirms that, and also suggests that the system is set up to recover a single mineral, one that is evidently present in large quantities in those underground rivers.”
    “Any idea what mineral that might be?” Stell asked.
    Sam grinned and lit a new dopestick from the butt of the last. “I thought you'd never ask! The brains call it thermium. They say it's the secret ingredient that makes Freehold's ceramics so special. Nobody's been able to duplicate them, and I guess plenty have tried. Evidently, they are unbelievably heat resistant. There's nothing on the market like them, and there's thousands of possible applications, in everything from weapons to mom's toaster. Techno made me a generous standing offer for any thermium I could bring them.”
    Stell frowned thoughtfully. “That explains a lot. If this mineral is something new, and extremely diluted in those underground rivers, that would account for how Intersystems missed it during their original survey. And, if it's as valuable as you say, it explains why they want the planet back—so much so that they're willing to strike some sort of deal with the pirates.”
    “Exactly,” Sam agreed. “And it also suggests how Freehold has managed to make those payments up till now. They're not living in the lap of luxury or anything ... but those specialty ceramics have kept them from going under. But why make the ceramics themselves? Why not market the thermium and let others manufacture the products?”
    “I don't know,” Stell admitted. “But maybe they think it's important to build their own industrial base. They seem like an independent bunch.”
    “An independent bunch who're lying like hell,” Samantha said, jabbing a dopestick in his direction. “Why haven't Kasten and, what's his name, Roop, told you about thermium, instead of pretending it doesn't exist?”
    “Because,” Stell said soberly, “they're convinced that potentially we're just as bad as the pirates, and in a way you can't blame them. Once dirtside, we could easily take everything they've got. I think Kasten wants to tell us ... but Roop's stopping him.”
    Both were silent for a moment as Sam blew out a long stream of scented lavender smoke. “No,” she said finally, “I guess you can't blame ’em. If I had a home, maybe I'd do the same.”
    Just then, Stell's com-set buzzed. “Yes, Sergeant?”
    “The Sergeant Major's on his way up, sir.”
    “Thanks, Wilkens,” Stell replied, as a tremendous commotion began out in the hall.
    Seconds later a small, ragged figure was shoved into the room, kicking and screaming abuse, with Sergeant Major Como close behind. “Sit down,” Como ordered sternly, pointing at a straight-backed chair.
    The skinny little girl jerked her arm away and spat defiantly at Como's feet. “Screw you, mister,” she said. “Who died and made you an Elder, anyway?”
    The Sergeant Major looked down at the spittle on his highly polished boots and then back up with an expression that had terrified full-grown men. The girl promptly sat down. “And what have we here, Sergeant