Reality Matrix Effect (9781310151330) by Laura Remson Mitchell

bowl-squatters needed a lesson—a little
demonstration of the fact that they couldn’t just order us around.
That’s when I got this idea:  Hold back some of the colonists’
supplies and make ’em pay the crew a bonus to get the stuff
back.”
    “Terrific idea, ain’t it?” Barnard said to
Wraggon, nudging him with an elbow.
    “So what happened?” Wraggon asked, ignoring
Barnard.
    “Fleet didn’t think it was such a good idea,”
Tauber said. “‘A violation both of Fleet’s contracts and of the
Merchanters Code of Ethics.’  That’s what they told me nine
months ago when I went through channels before my last run. And at
first I bought that garbage.”  Tauber shook his head and
sipped his drink. “Anyway, when I was up there last time—I don’t
know. I just decided to go ahead and do it. I was the senior
merchanter on the run, so it was easy to get the others to go
along. Hell, they wanted to show those rock farmers up as much as I
did!  Anyhow, we held out some of the supplies and got a nice
bonus for ourselves in colonial trade goods. Even got some of the
newest molecular computer components.”
    “Hey,” Wraggon interjected, “those things are
hard to get!  The CDN has top priority. MECs are kind of
expensive, too. We use ’em to make some of the advanced
experimental robbies at the plant, and we’re always having trouble
getting enough of ’em.”
    “What are MECs?” Barnard asked, looking
confused.
    “Molecular electronic components,” Wraggon
said unceremoniously.
    “The point is,” Tauber resumed, “by time we
got back to Earth, the rock farmers had filed a complaint with
Fleet. That’s when they called me in. After that, they turned me
into a desk pilot.”
    “You didn’t expect the colonists to file a
complaint?” asked Wraggon.
    Tauber shook his head. “No. You see, the rock
farmers can’t survive without the supply ships. We know it, and we
assumed they knew it. They can’t afford to alienate Fleet. So I
told them that we were implementing a new Fleet policy. Any
sensible people would be more worried about offending Fleet than
about losing a little in trade goods. But then rock farmers aren’t
very bright. After all, their ancestors were Earth’s failures and
rejects. I should’ve known they’d be too thick to realize how much
trouble they’d be in if I was leveling about Fleet policy.”
    “Howdaya like that, Charlie?” Barnard yelped.
“They’re too dumb to know when they’re in trouble, but they go
around lording it over us merchanters. They’re so damned used to
ordering robbies around. Makes ’em think they’re better’n we are.
And they get away with it. It’s just like you been sayin’. The
robbies are lettin’ the dummies and the weaklings have too much
power!”
    “That’s for sure!” Wraggon put in as he
drained his glass and reached for the bottle.
    “Is that what you think?” Tauber asked in a
controlled, low-pitched voice.
    “Damn right!  Don’t you?”
    Tauber looked thoughtful for a moment as
Barnard refilled the ex-merchanter’s glass.
    “Yeah, I guess so,” Tauber finally answered.
“Never really thought of it quite that way, but maybe you’re right.
There’s more to it, though. Has to be. This whole country—the whole
world—depends on robots and computers. Just like you said before.
They’re kind of the foundation of the power structure that runs
things these days.”
    “Yeah?” said Wraggon. He had the feeling that
there was more on Tauber’s mind.
    “I don’t know for sure. Just seems to me that
superior people should be able to find some way of changing that—or
at least a way of turning it to our own advantage.”
    Wraggon looked closely at Tauber. The former
merchanter’s forehead was creased in concentration. Like he’s
trying to come up with some sort of plan, Wraggon mused.
    Wraggon’s thoughts were cut short as Barnard
lifted his glass in a toast.
    “Down with the robbies!” the big