Chapter 1
The sun baked all the way through, to the warm deck beneath her. April felt she might melt, like a pat of butter on a hot roll, and slide off the arch of the bow into the sea. She was in serious danger of fully relaxing, physically and mentally. The latter being far more difficult of course. She'd been sleeping that deep dreamless sleep, from which she'd eased so subtly, she wasn't aware of waking up. Nothing jolted her awake. Perhaps the steady breeze had shifted bearing a bit, or the rigging had whispered against the mast.
The tightly woven hat over her face had a pleasant scent when hot. She had never smelled a field of straw being cut, to know its richer form. The drift of fine salt spray, from the breakers outside the atoll, added a sharp note to the earthy odor. But the wind wasn't blowing enough to make the ship roll, sheltered inside the ring of coral.
"Dummmm, dumm…dumm, dumm…dumm, dumm," sounded low and ominously to her left. She should never have shown Jeff that stupid old movie. She refused to reward him by responding, but he must have sensed she was awake. When the strike came it was just above her hip on the left. Teeth far less savage than a Great White nipping her, right where he knew it tickled.
The first time he'd done it, yesterday, she'd shrieked so loudly the man on deck watch had run from the cockpit to see what was wrong. She wouldn't give Jeff the satisfaction today.
"That's a one-time funny joke, Jaws," she said from under the hat. "Go away and find some other prey."
"Heather got hungry and went below for a bite. I think I'll have mine right here," Jeff teased.
"I'm hungry too. Let's go down and see what's on the cold buffet."
"You're always hungry," Which was pretty nearly true. He wasn't gene mod, at least not the basic stuff like April, just tweaks and didn't eat near as much as April. "I'll go the long way," he declared. By the time April took her hat off and sat up, she just saw his feet disappearing over the edge of the deck, followed by a >sploosh < and a few drops of spray that managed to climb back this high. She got up, considered diving in herself and just wasn't in the mood. She just sauntered back along the rail of the ketch, on the narrow deck beside the cabin, to the rear deck and sunken cockpit. Stepping down onto a bench that ran along the side behind the wheel.
Jeff's wet footprints said he'd beat her to the cockpit and companion way below, despite having to climb up from the platform lowered off the transom for swimmers. She went in their stateroom and rinsed off with fresh water, stowed her hat and put on a pair of shorts. Her mom had always been a bit formal about behavior at the table and April just couldn't bring herself to sit and eat totally naked, French boat rules or no. Jeff had no such problem, he had just splashed his face and hair with fresh water and was drying it with a towel when she caught up to him.
April got to the food first, lifting the clear cover on the chill table and taking a cold plate. There were some cold salads, bean salad and potato salad, a pea salad with diced tomatoes and nuts, egg salad and ham salad, a beef roast and a block of white cheddar. Jeff caught up with her and started making a cold beef sandwich with horseradish and a pile of sweet pickles. April got a plate full of chilled prawns, with a cup of creamy hot sauce to dip them, a big dip of the pea salad and a glass of the iced coffee.
Heather was already at the table, with the ship's owner and one of the crew, eating a sandwich of some sort of fish salad. Not of canned tuna, rather leftover from the grilled fish that had been supper last night, pleasantly smoky. April hadn't caught it, so she wasn't sure what it was, except tasty. Heather was looking at the big flat screen, turned around to face the small upper galley from the main lounge. The atoll was a crooked circle in the middle of the screen, with white trim a couple places where surf broke on it. The Tobiuo was a white comma, off center inside. So small it was hard to tell bow from stern. The water varied from pale blue to green turquoise from above and fell off into deep dark water outside the atoll.
"I've been sitting, watching the waves," Heather told them. "They aren't simple. They especially aren't just parallel, driven by the wind. There are interference patterns, just like you see with a laser in different modes. I had the drone open up the angle of view and you could see there is a pattern of waves from the northwest and a weaker one from the south that mix with the main pattern of wind driven ridges from the west. I wonder why? Can there be wind on different bearings, off pretty far away and the waves from that reach way beyond the wind?"
The owner, Lin, looked at Heather surprised. "The old Polynesians, so long ago we're talking open canoes, used to read the waves to navigate. The islands both interfere with waves coming from behind them and reflect waves striking the side near to you. A big storm far over the horizon can also send big rollers through the whole pattern, just as you thought. But the interpretation of them is complex. I'm shocked you'd see the patterns so quickly, with no experience as a sailor."
"Oh, I don't understand them," Heather quickly explained. "And I have the advantage of a viewpoint from above they didn't have. But I can see there are patterns. I've looked at quite a bit of ocean from an orbital perspective, looking for ships and the patterns disappear when you back off the view that high. You'd have to look closely at a bunch of different locations to start to understand it at the level you're talking about. Those old sailors were pretty smart."
"They had incentive," Lin agreed, "The ocean is big and the islands they were looking for pretty small. They couldn't move against wind or current as easily as we can and if they missed their landfall they might starve in the open ocean, or at least never make it back to where they were hoping for, driven to a strange land."
"A fate we seem to be avoiding, happily," Jeff noted. He took a bite of roast beef, piled so high on his sandwich he had difficulty fitting it in his mouth. "This is so good," he said after chewing awhile. "I've had vat grown beef. They try to pass it off as better than beef on the hoof. It has good flavor, I admit, but there is something about the texture that is too uniform. It's weird to say, but might be better if they actually made it a little tougher," he decided.
"If we grow our own beef at Central it will have to be vat raised," Heather reminded him. "I can't imagine having enough cubic to raise cattle. With grass, like wheat, you can stack trays on conveyer racks, five or six layers deep, with lighting on the bottom of the trays above, high carbon dioxide levels and grow it pretty efficiently. A cow is just too tall to layer. It isn't the volume of rock you have to remove and seal, it's the volume of air to fill it that would be extravagant."
"When restaurants advertise beefsteak down here, they always stress it is tender," April reminded them. "I bet they used the tenderest tissue, from the very best kind of cattle for that quality, to seed the vat. It has to be grown as a muscle. If you just grow loose cells and filter them it doesn't have any structure or fat. Maybe you should look into acquiring an inferior line, to give it a little more bite, for when you don't eat it as a steak. My grandpa said he had some Argentine beef way back, when he was in the USNA military, that had to be cooked to death and was still pretty chewy. I bet it's cheaper too."
"That's a chuck roast," the crewman Able said. "It runs around thirty dollars a kilo out of Australia. The same thing out of Japan costs four times as much. The filet mignon off the same animal tastes just like vat raised, but costs twice as much as the chuck, Australian or Japanese either one. The off the hoof filet is so much pricier than vat raised, just for the snob appeal. Rich people like to think they are gourmands and know wine too, even if they abuse their palate with hard liquor and smoke. They might be hard put to tell something is from grapes, but they will pay for prestige."
"Well, I appreciate your cooking," April told him. "I don't know enough to critique it, but if I had something I didn't like, I wouldn't choke it down to avoid hurting your feelings. So far everything you've sat in front of me has been good, even a few things I had my doubts about, until I tried them." That visibly pleased Abe. Lin had added him to his crew from their new base in the Aci Castello marina on Sicily. He'd been chef at a nearby hotel, but the long hours in the kitchen, away from the sun, had turned something he enjoyed doing into a burden.
April and her friends had never seen the Tobiuo's new home port. They might never, if the political climate stayed tense. Their space habitat nation, Home, recently removed itself from Earth orbit and took up station in a halo orbit, between the moon and the far Lagrange point, L2. They'd been attacked repeatedly since independence, by both the Earth Super Powers and removed themselves from being a close easy target. Once relocated, they had announced no Earth power would be permitted to lift armed ships past L1 on the Earth side of the moon. The Earth powers were still sorting out their reactions to that announcement. April wondered how long it would be until one of them tried to test their resolve and ability.
They'd made a water landing in the shuttle Dionysus' Chariot to meet the ketch Tobiuo, waiting three days to do so, because their shuttle was heavily loaded and they wanted very calm seas to unload and transfer expensive cargo to the ketch. In the ship's hold, down below right now, was a great deal of electronic chips, some specialized crystals that needed microgravity to form properly and a number of drugs that benefited from the same environment. Those same products could have come down on returning supply shuttles from Home. However there were markets for these items, at well above normal prices, in several countries that embargoed trade with Home, including the two largest markets in the world, China and the USNA. Jeff and some of his associates, were happy to sell the items at a hefty markup, added for their skill in avoiding customs seizures.
Gunny and Barak finally crawled out of their cabin. They had been up very late stargazing. It was funny that it was easier to view the heavens directly here, than Home. On Home they could see better, but it would be on a screen, remotely controlling a telescope outside in vacuum. There was a huge element of enjoyment that was missing, if you didn't point the telescope at what you wanted to see and focus it, peering in an eyepiece. Something near impossible to do in a pressure suit.
If you were going to view it remotely on a video screen, you might as well just take a feed off a professional telescope, that could see much more. There was more of those sort of fantastic images on the 'net than anyone could sit and view. Looking at a speck of light in the sky and then aligning a scope on it and seeing Saturn's rings and the moons chasing around it real time, had a completely different immediacy and enjoyment, unrelated to image perfection.
Gunny made a face at the cold buffet for breakfast and went to the tiny main deck galley. He waved Abe back to finish his own lunch when he started to get up. "I can scramble a couple eggs just fine, Abe." But he actually scrambled half a dozen and dumped a couple spoonfuls of salsa in them too. Barack made do with cold beef and hard boiled eggs, on a bed of pea salad. Good thing, because Gunny wasn't sharing.
The cabin was cooled, but not too deep a chill. They wanted to be able to go in and out without too great a shock, from cabin to deck and back. It was maybe twenty-nine degrees. The boat had a generous surplus of power available, since it carried a fusion generator, designed and made by Jeff, but promised for past service by April. The fusion power package gave them a competitive edge on other boats that relied on diesel for propulsion when there was no wind and every other sort of auxiliary power.
"Do you enjoy taking the boat out like this for yourselves, or is it just work and you are anxious to get back home?" Barak asked.
Lin and Abe exchanged a significant look. Abe gave Lin a nod that said it was Lin's to answer. "We don't talk to you about port life, because you are on vacation and we didn't want to bring up unpleasantness. Things are getting rough on land. We have to post a watch overnight if we are at dock. There are people from other countries where things are even worse, who come to Italy. English and Germans and Romanians who can't find work. At least in southern Italy or Greece, they aren't going to freeze to death in the winter. But they will steal anything that isn't bolted down. They'll steal that too, if you leave them alone ten minutes with a wrench."
"Doesn't the government give them a little something to survive?" April asked.
"A little is right. Most of them are young men and fewer young women. The women tend to stay home. Life on the road is too dangerous for the young women. They get a small allowance deposited each month to an account. But if their card gets used outside their home area for more than a week they get cut off. It's the place they moved to that's now responsible for them,. There's usually a six month legal waiting period to get new benefits in Europe, but if not, there is usually enough bureaucratic red tape and indifference to delay it as long or longer," Lin said.
Abe changed his mind and decided to speak too. "A lot of them leave their card at home for their family to use. Their governments don't bother to DNA lock the cards for such small amounts. Some families may send a little of it to them in cash, if they don't desperately need it, but some have nothing but what they can steal if they can't find odd bits of work for cash. Such work doesn't pay much, because there are more workers than there is work. Some will work in a restaurant just to be fed a meal on their shift and maybe a sandwich to take home."
Lin nodded agreement. "We could have a dozen hands on the boat for practically nothing, but finding those who have any boat handling skills, or even who are trainable for such things as a cabin steward is difficult. They will desperately lie about their experience, hoping they can fake it and unless you try them out at dock, you won't know it until you are a hundred kilometers offshore. I couldn't send them into your cabin in good conscience, because they'd likely steal your things and I'd be afraid if we had two or three of them, they might cut our throats in the night and steal the boat."
"Sorry," Lin said, seeing Barak feeling his throat and looking entirely too thoughtful. "It's bad enough that we tend to anchor off in the harbor at night rather than stay at dock. We still put a watch out, but it's much harder to sneak up close to us in the open water. The watch can see an approach and call for help much earlier than at dock. At the dock nobody even looks up or pays any attention to gunfire in the city at night. When we are offshore we are freer to use the laser you gave us," he said glancing upward, since it was mounted high on the main mast. "It would raise entirely too many questions if we used it at dock and it left visible damage,"
"There have been two different weeks this season we weren't able to get a charter and we all agreed it was better to do some open ocean cruising, instead of staying at dock. Once we were in Florida and it saved us marina fees anyway, but another time it was in Sicily, where we pay to keep a permanent dock, even if we are not there. Standing a watch at the wheel at sea is much less stressful than watching the dock for boarders or small boats sneaking up to us. We can also do some serious fishing to fill up the larder."
Abe spoke again, "Since we have plenty of power, thanks to you," he nodded at April, "We put two commercial freezer chests down in the hold. We are usually able to catch more than we eat and we have arrangements with a couple farmers. We buy a bunch of chickens and pay them to raise a pig or calf, then buy the whole thing slaughtered and cut up. Sometimes we trade some of the frozen fish instead of all cash, it cuts our expenses and adds a little variety to both their diet and ours. On land there are a lot of areas now where it is too risky to keep a big freezer, unless you can generate your own power. If the public power goes down and you lose a freezer full it's a huge hit."
"We all live a little better than we could landbound," Lin asserted. "Although we lost a crewman because he was married and he worried too much about his wife and son when we were gone. He finally quit and moved them all up in the hills to his parents' house. It's not as comfortable as in the city, but it's safer. There was no way I wanted to start letting crew keep family aboard, which is what he was hinting. Pretty soon it would look like a refugee boat, with laundry in the rigging."
"So, none of the crew is married?" Barak asked. You could tell from his intense look it held more than casual interest.
"No and the rate of marriage has gone down on land too. At least official, legal marriages. When the economy is bad enough people don't want to make the commitment. A lot forgo having kids too. Does that seem strange to you?"
"Not especially, I'm just thinking about the crew from Home, who went out to Jupiter not long ago to capture a snowball. They are six unmarried crew, the oldest twenty-seven. They decided to either do all singles, or a crew of couples, but they couldn't find three qualified couples who would agree to a three year voyage. They're forming a second company and soliciting investors to send a second expedition already, before the first has returned. It will be better equipped and should be more profitable, but the crew will be the same, all singles and I thought I might apply if I can get my mom to agree."
"How old will you be when it leaves?" Abe asked.
"I'll be fifteen, near sixteen and I'd be seventeen when I get back."
"In the Age of Sail, young gentlemen might be sent to serve as midshipmen, training to be officers at thirteen, sometimes even twelve years of age," Lin told them. "By sixteen they might be close to taking their lieutenant's exam. They had to pass an oral examination before three captains, to demonstrate they knew how to handle a ship and command. It wasn't easy, some never passed it to advance."
"I didn't get the sense things were so rough down here," April said, concern written on her face. "I've done research for Jeff for our bank and I've seen the numbers for sales and margins turn down, but employment has stayed steady and pretty much everybody has the same thing as negative tax like North America, even if they call it something else. I get the feeling I don't really understand what motivates Earthies. I'm missing something."
"They also all have price controls," Lin said, "even if they don't call them that. It always leads to shortages. Your negative tax may let you apply to the government distribution warehouse, but if you want oil it may be canola, instead of peanut or corn oil and if you want milk it may be non-fat powder instead of Ultra. They may run out of wheat flour or rye and you have to take corn meal. It's still listed as available, but they run out early in the month. If you get the prepared meals like in North America, then they can sneak the cheap stuff in even easier. It just slowly gets a little worse each year."
"It spills over to the commercial sales too. Last time we wanted to buy diesel, when we were picking up some guests in England, it was fifty-seven EuroMarks a liter, priced higher for anything considered recreational use and another surcharge for foreigners. The marina was limiting boats that weren't based there to fifty liters. We were fortunate we had your generator and could beg off the sale at that price."
"We made a show of waiting the tide and taking her away from the dock under sail. There isn't much on the water moving under power only, just military and big freighters. A lot of the freighters now are fitted with sails or wings of some sort for auxiliary propulsion too. They'd rather come in a couple days later if the wind will let them save fuel."
"But isn't a lot of diesel made from waste bio-mass now?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, but if you add up the acres, there just isn't enough waste to meet the demand. Even if you don't factor in the energy costs to chop it up, take it to the tanks and then to separate and filter it. Then you still need to transport it to where it is needed, although a lot is reused for agriculture and never moves far."
"Now, you can get a lot more feedstock in tropical areas. You grow directly for fuel feedstock, not just waste from food crops. But the Amazon basin and Africa both seem to be in a perpetual state of unrest. You spend a fortune guarding your processing plant from attack, or paying protection money to every local thug and warlord, as well as the central government in power. You may guard the plant, but they can keep the growers from bringing the feed stock to the plant. I don't see any changes to that very soon either."
"How long can it keep getting a little worse each year, like you are describing, before it doesn't work at all?" April asked. "I don't want us to get caught by surprise. There are still things we need from Earth that would be very hard to do without."
"Like what?" Lin asked.
"Copper wire," Heather responded without hesitation. "Especially the sort reinforced with Bucky tubes. Solder and fluxes, anything with silver or fluorine or boron in it, plastics, lubricants, cloth and paper of all kinds," she looked an invitation at Jeff.
"Anything with big glass. Ports and rigid display screens, a lot of medical things like dressings and instruments. Needles, gloves and IV bags. A lot of those things we could make, but people who make few hundred thousand units a month can make them much cheaper than we ever could. Big pieces of steel, especially the high end stuff that has to be high strength. Anything with beryllium in it and yeah, silver like she said."
"They know techie stuff better than me," April admitted.
"I don't think it's going to be one big dramatic crash," Lin said. "Prices will just keep creeping up and selection and delivery will keep getting worse. You'll just reach a point eventually where you've had to wait for wire a couple times, the price is really a hardship, then they will finally quote you a crazy price and tell you that you have to wait months for delivery and it will kick you over the edge, to make dies and draw your own wire."
"That means we still have to find sources of copper and other scarce materials in the outer system," Jeff said. "We already have iron and a few other metals and soon all the volatiles we could want. Nobody can stop us from scooping nitrogen from Earth, but a lot of these things we have no idea where we'll be able to find them, out past Mars."
"What about Mars itself?" April asked Jeff. "Has the joint expedition found any serious ore in their explorations?"
"The participants appear to have quietly come to some sort of a gentleman's agreement to not publicize any such finds. I have word searched every public document about Mars, with particular attention to multiple word searches of any dealing with geology, field trips to volcanoes or prominent dikes. Not a single one gets specific about any minerals, except general descriptions of rock class. Indeed the only useful data is about the large number of iron meteorites to be found on some of the plains. I'm sure they mention those, only because they would consider it a desecration to see them as ore. A robot vehicle to follow a search pattern and scoop them up would be easy to do though. How many iron meteorites do they really need for scientific research? They'll never cut and examine one in a thousand, but they act like each one is precious. It's silly."
"Well, couldn't we go look for ourselves?" Heather asked. "They don't have any claim on the whole planet, do they?"
"There is a general treaty, signed back in the sixties, which basically says everything off Earth will be held in common. The moon has shown it is pretty much defunct. In particular trying to apply it to other star systems would be silly and if we find planets with owners it will look as arrogant and short sighted as the Pope dividing up the western hemisphere of Earth, without a thought to the fact it already had indigenous owners. Mars base has sent out drones, but the furthest anybody has been from base is about two-hundred kilometers. They won't take a flier beyond the distance they could be rescued in a rover."
"You'd support prospecting there then?" Heather asked.
"I'd rather see if perhaps the pickings are better among the asteroids and satellites of the gas giants first, before we look for what we need on a planet with inhabitants. It is after all at the bottom of another gravity-well, even if not as deep as Earth. In particular I'd rather none of us make a commitment to Mars, one way or the other, as Spox for any of our companies, before we discuss it again. Is that agreeable?" he asked. But he didn't sound bossy.
"Sure," Heather agreed. April was nodding her approval.
Lunch had progressed to cold drinks on a bare table. It was the hottest part of the day, everybody was full and nobody was in a hurry to go back on deck.
"What are our options to get materials, beyond the out system moons and asteroids, assuming Mars is out and Earth no longer can lift what we need?" Heather asked.
"Well, Venus is useless at our present tech level. We don't know much about Mercury. It's been mapped, but the only rovers examined a tiny area at the poles. The solar flux there should make processing ore on site easy. Eventually, I think we shall visit other stars. If our technology is good enough to do that, then I expect high value cargo will be worth shipping, organisms if we find living worlds and things like gold, indium and iridium. It's going to be awhile before we can synthesize them in quantity."
"How about separating out the trace quantities of elements, like a few parts per million, in asteroids?" Barak asked.
"That might be possible, if we can vacuum distill an entire asteroid, or concentrate all the trace elements in one end of a bar by zone refining. That's how a lot of semiconductors were first refined. Then there is mass spectroscopic separation, or chemically changing everything to various gasses and reducing them by vapor deposition. Melting a free-floating asteroid shouldn't be that difficult, but if you remove volatiles by raising the temperature past the boiling point of each element in stages, how do you capture the boil off?"
"Put it in a big ball and let it vacuum deposit on the walls?" Barak suggested.
"Possibly, but you have a dynamic system of a molten ball of metal that has to be kept at the center of a much lighter shell, or at least kept from touching it. And when do you harvest it? Do you stop after every major element is depleted and clean it off the shell? Or do you let them build up in layers and try to separate them later?" Jeff smiled at Barak's look of concentration. "Think on it. If you come up with another obvious solution I'll be delighted and make sure it earns you some money too."
"There's all sorts of resources in Antarctica the Earthies aren't using," Gunny reminded them. "If they can't challenge you militarily and you need them bad enough you can just go take them."
"As tempting as that is, I suspect it would precipitate a war and not a short easy one. Getting a foothold is one thing, but conducting mining operations when you might get bombed at random intervals would be pretty tough. One hypersonic cruise missile every few months would be plenty to neutralize any profits. I'm not ready to be the monster who reduced the USNA and China until they couldn't mount that much of a response. It would have to be a last resort and it should be a matter of our survival before we even considered it."
"We could do a lot to adapt new tech, based on different elements," Heather said. "We have lots of calcium, which is just fine for structural use and wiring in vacuum. But here's no legacy engineering data. We just need experience using it because the metal corrodes so easily. So does iron, but we have a couple thousand years of experience working around that. I'd love to know what we could do with say calcium – scandium alloys, or calcium – aluminum."
"There's just one thing I want understood," Barak spoke up at a lull in the conversation.
"Yes?" Jeff prompted him.
"If you are going to go out there and land on moons of Jupiter or Saturn and see all kinds of interesting stuff, maybe get crew shares on big mineral finds, I want a berth on that trip!"
"Nothing is certain, we'll just have to see," Jeff told him.
"Well, if you know you are going to do that when I'd be away getting a Snowball back to Home let me know. I'd much rather do a real landing trip than a snowball. I'd die to get back and find out I'd missed out on a trip like that."
"I promise, I'll let you know the very same day I do."
Chapter 2
"I'm thinking on what Lin told us yesterday," April told Heather. "We're getting none of that picture about what life is like on Earth from the news agencies. How do we know what's happening on the street level? Sometimes I get hints about it from reports of 'wreckers' busting windows or shooting down electric wires. There was a whole bunch of fires in Baltimore a few months ago and none of the explanations in the news made any sense. I think it was all arson and they just wouldn't say it. And last year there were way more forest fires than usual, but the weather was actually better, so there should have been less. Also the pattern seemed to be that a lot of those fires threatened well to do areas with expensive homes. But it's hard to tell what is sabotage and what is coincidence."
"Jeff has Eddie working on creating an intelligence network now. Tell them you want some hard information on how the average person is coping with shortages and regulations. I know a lot of the crop fires last year were set, after the cops destroyed so many of the guerilla gardens people had hidden out in the woods. If they can't grow food they get pissed off and figure if they can't grow it, they'll keep the big industrial farms from growing it too. It's just way too easy to drive by a field and throw something out the car window that will sit a couple days and then ignite and set the field on fire. You watch the weather report, pick a dry stretch and toss it to the upwind side and it's going to burn a lot of grain before they can stop it. They promised they'd guard the fields this year, but there are just too many fields and not enough cops. There wouldn't be enough people to guard crops if they called the whole army out to sit and watch the fields," Heather said.
"You're right, I'll ask Jeff and Eddie to pass that along to their people. They don't need to spend anything to pursue it, just be observant when they are gathering other intelligence. If they fill in enough details maybe I can understand the Earthies."
* * *
"You seemed so dubious when I told you we'd teach you to swim back home," April reminded Barak. "I'm glad you like snorkeling so much. It's really pretty in the lagoon isn't it?"
"It's prettier than I ever imagined Earth could be from photos. And Tara has been talking to me about diving other places. He said the reefs in other locations are just as nice, but sometimes completely different coral and fish. He's dived in ship wrecks and places where there are old buildings underwater. He was even telling me people dive in underwater caves, but he hasn't tried that."
"I'm not sure I'd want to be all closed in like that underwater."
"It's not much different than being in a pressure suit," Barak said with a shrug. "He's used a SCUBA outfit with a tank, but says a lot of folks now use rebreathers that let you stay down a lot longer. I figure Jeff could build me a rebreather that uses one of his miniature power sources. It could generate oxygen from the water and you could stay down as long as you want. I just have to figure out how you could sleep wearing it."
"I've been stuck in a p-suit for sixteen hours," April remembered. "You can sleep in a regular p-suit, but I sure wouldn't do it for fun. After that long you are so happy to wash and scratch and eat something you don't have to suck through a tube that you don't want to ever crawl in one again. I'd say you'd need a helmet instead of a mouth piece for a start. And if you have a helmet it has to have some sort of collar and shoulder yoke to attach to. I'm not sure you wouldn't just be better off with a full suit. What happens when your skin is in salt water for hours and hours? It has to be irritating."
"You probably look like a big prune," Barak guessed. "I'll ask a bunch of people what works and what has been tried before. Thanks for all the ideas."
"Just be safe. Nobody begrudges you having fun, but we'd feel terrible if you hurt yourself trying something reckless." She reached across and ruffled his hair playfully.
"Thanks April. I'll try not to be stupid," he vowed and for some reason blushed furiously.
* * *
At breakfast Lin stood and addressed them before sitting. "We need to catch the tide running outbound in the channel to clear the reef toward evening. If you want one last swim or any souvenirs, now is your last chance to get them. I think you all know, but just to remind you, no coral, even broken old pieces off the beach and no shells that still have the mollusk inside, or any on the endangered list, even if it was cast up on the beach and rotting. If you have anything like that it may be confiscated in Tonga and you could be fined, even if they can tell it isn't from their waters. They probably wouldn't jail you."
"How much time between when we dock in Tonga and our shuttle lifts?" Barak asked.
"We should arrive midmorning the day before your shuttle flight. I wouldn't suggest arriving the same day and trying to rush to the airport. If there are any complications you want the airline and officials to be able to reach you. We have reservations at a decent little hotel close to the space side of the field. If they can't contact you and confirm you are in the area they start to worry they are going to have an empty seat. I know you guys wouldn't argue, but a lot of people will give them a hard time if they charge them for a reserved seat that goes empty. Some folks would try to do a chargeback and tie their money up. Just having a contact at a nearby hotel is reassuring to them."
"Do you think maybe we can walk around near the hotel after we check in? Don't forget, I've never been in an Earth city. The only dry land I've been on is the atoll, when Gunny and I set up his telescope. I'd like to see some buildings and people like in a video."
"The area around the hotel is nice. If you stay in the area and don't go off in the less desirable parts of town you can do that, but I want you to take my man Tara along. April, could you send Gunny along too? None of us can carry weapons on Tonga, but there is safety in a group and both of them look formidable."
"Yeah, I want to go too, so Gunny is a given. That makes four of us so we should be fine."
Lin paused just long enough he must be having second thoughts, but he just nodded. "I might even find time to come along myself. There's an open market no more than two hundred meters from the hotel and they have all sorts of hand crafts and things. I think you'd find it interesting, even if you don't buy anything."
* * *
The hotel room wasn't that luxurious, although it was a suite with a large L shaped living room that had a balcony along one leg. The rooms seemed huge to satellite dwellers and their boat, while big for a boat, had nothing on a regular Earthie building for size. Barak in particular had never been in an Earth hotel, so when he became concerned that his bag didn't show up they had to explain to him that he had his own room down the hall he'd share with Tara, where he'd find his bag and all seven of them would not be sharing these rooms to sleep. There was no mint on the pillow, but there was a restaurant and a very nice small pool inside. After having the whole wide lagoon to themselves it had little appeal.
Tara and Lin both knew Tonga fairly well. They didn't argue with Barak's question about seeking lunch outside the hotel. The poor kid was pacing he was so anxious to go. But in the end all of them went, a mob that April could tell Lin was not entirely happy about.
The street was crowded, the more so since it was near midday and the Tongans tend to eat a heavy lunch and take a nap from the heat of the day, so a lot of people were on break from their work. Most of the crowd looked to be locals, many in western clothing, but an occasional man in the local style wrapped skirt. There were few hats despite the fierce sun and nobody was bare chested like they might have been in other tropical countries.
There were a few street vendors selling food you could eat standing, but Lin insisted they go to a sit down restaurant. The place he pointed out was a roofed over slab with open sides and the cooking area visible. It smelled wonderful. They picked a table next to the street to watch all the activity and a young woman brought them bottled water and menus.
After much indecision Barak got grilled chicken, which was well charred on the edges, strongly marinated in both lime and something sweet. With that he got a sweet taro cake in coconut milk and a cold chopped fruit salad, some chunks of which he couldn't identify. It was good but the drink appealed to him better than any of it, a slurry of coconut and watermelon.
Everybody got the chicken but Gunny, who went with a very un-Tongan pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw. But he ordered the local drink after everybody raved on it.
The market was jammed, the stalls each seller was allotted unusually small. They made up for this by displaying their goods vertically. There were carvings that didn't impress anyone, some local wraps for men that Lin and Taro both bought and a lot of western clothing that looked used. Some of it well used.
Gunny however, found a carver tucked in a corner who had much different wares. He caught back up to them with an object wrapped in paper, but shaped like a canoe paddle. The way he held it said it was heavy.
"It's a Tongan war club," Gunny said to Jeff's raised eyebrow. "It feels heavier than aluminum and it has some really good inlay work in it. I'll show it to you back in our rooms."
There were local fruits and vegetables, in stunning variety, the colors making April take some pictures with her pad, after buying some fruit she'd take back to their rooms. If anyone objected to her photography they didn't say anything after she'd spent some money.
Some vendors had little bottles of vanilla, the fancy bottles seemed to be more important to the tourists than the vanilla itself. There were a couple people selling elaborate panels of bamboo cut and arranged in geometric patterns. They'd have one full sized, as a backdrop to their stall and a number of other designs rendered in miniature.
April pictured a section of that for her new cubic, but decided it was too big an investment to lift to orbit for something she'd get tired of eventually and want to change. If it was removed after awhile it would be big to have to store somewhere. But then they found some people making mats called tapas, of the inner bark of the mulberry, dyed and patterned beautifully. That April could see in her new home. There were smaller ones, no bigger than a place mat, some with bright colors she suspected were for the tourist trade. The bigger ones tended to black and white and shades of brown.
One old man had a variety, but behind him was a mat standing rolled up vertically, only the one edge pulled open to show the pattern. It was a checkerboard of squares, three patterns repeating in a sequence April couldn't quite figure out. One a swirl inside a border, one a pattern that reminded April of a Navaho rug she'd seen and the last a solid pattern of dark and light parallelograms. It was of very thin fibers tightly woven and very fine.
April stood looking at it quite a long time, thinking. The old fellow could see where her eyes were going but pretended indifference, sipping on a cup of something. "Sir, is that rolled up tapa for sale, or do you just display it as an example of the art?" she finally asked.
He couldn't hide the fact that pleased him. "It is lovely isn't it? There aren't many ladies who can do this level of work now and there are a lot of hours invested in it. There are bigger tapas in the royal residence and in the museums, here and on Samoa, but few commercially available even this big these days."
"May one ask what you'd consider a fair exchange for it?"
"Let me think on that," he countered, like he didn't know to the centum. "You are a spacer aren't you? You'd pay a lot just to lift it to your home."
"I am. I already considered that. Some of my friends and I have been down to relax and enjoy the open spaces and the sun. We spent some days on an unpopulated atoll and swam and dove. We're from Home."
"Ah, your country has a special relationship with Tonga. I understand most of the freight lifting from here goes to Home. That's why we have so many Japanese lately, though I have to say we seem to get along with them better than the Chinese. We kicked most of them out in my grandfather's time."
"The Japanese built our habitat," April told him. "My father manages the physical structure for them. But I am also a resident of Central on the moon and if we can only get it sorted out to your King's satisfaction, we'll have Tongan residents there too."
"Are you a subject of the new Queen that we hear about on the moon? I was shocked to hear of a new monarchy. Earth seems to be discarding their royalty, which we Tongans are not ready to do. They may not be perfect, but we see them as stable, unlike the mob rule some places."
"She hasn't used the word queen in my hearing, but the young lady in the teal shirt is the sovereign of whom you're speaking. The young man with her and I and are close friends, business associates and by her word, her peers." She laid it on thick, hoping it helped the price if he was fond of royalty. She didn't mention she was upset Heather didn't drop the sovereignty after she felt it had served its purpose and still had a hard time accepting she was Dame Lewis. She still found occasion to give Heather a hard time about the concept of royalty and titles..
"That's good. Most of the mats of this quality are owned by the royal family. I am happier knowing it would be preserved and not allowed to deteriorate like it could in a common house."
"I had in mind to put it on my wall, with other fine art."
"You might seek help from a museum archivist, to hang it so it doesn't get bent and distorted over time."
That was good that he was talking like she already owned it.
"My home is in half gravity, it will only weigh half as much as usual here, so that helps to preserve it too."
He got the oddest amused look. "Don't you fairly bounce off the ground if you weigh so little? I'm trying to imagine it, but it seems odd."
"You do step differently and dancing has a much wider range, but you learn to shuffle along quickly and sleeping is much easier when it feels like you are floating on your back."
"That must be a marvel. I doubt I'll ever get up to experience it. If you think the tapa suitable for your home, I'd offer it to you at thirty thousand dollars USNA, or twenty eight thousand EuroMarks and an introduction to your sovereign."
"Sure I'd be happy to do that, I'm April Lewis, what is your name?"
"I'm Papahi Fetu Helu."
"Heather?" April waved her over and she came with Jeff following along. "Heather Anderson, this is Papahi Feta Helu. He is aware of Central and your declaring sovereignty, he asked to be introduced. We may do some business together. This is Jeff Singh also."
"Mr. Helu, a pleasure," Heather declared and offered her hand.
He hesitated and looked surprised, if not shocked. "That is permitted? We may not touch the King in Tonga."
"We are of a different custom," Heather assured him. "It is not offensive at all."
"Thank you," he took her hand like he might break it and gave it a single gentle pump. "I am honored and glad to see your family too," he added, including April and Jeff in his glance.
"We were close long before she founded Central," Jeff added smoothly. It was unusually social for Jeff.
"I could see that from your faces. You never look away long before you check to see where each other are," he said, with obvious approval.
Well, I never knew I did that, the old boy is perceptive. April thought.
"I'd be happy to have the tapa in my home," April assured him. "Dollars or EM it doesn't matter. Which would you like?" she asked pulling her pad out. She liked it too much to dicker.
"Ah, well Tongans don't use credit much," he said regretfully, "Just the big resorts and airlines and such. We have pretty much a cash economy. I'd send you to a bank, but you might have trouble getting that much cash without arranging it well ahead of time."
"Perhaps you'd accept this?" Jeff asked and handed him a gold Solar coin.
Papahi frowned, unsure what this strange object was and then jerked like it burned his hand.
"Ah, I'd like to, but you must not be aware gold bullion and coins are forbidden to us on Tonga. We can own gold jewelry, but it is tightly regulated and hard to find anything for less than double the cost of the metal, three times for small items like rings and earrings. I suggest you keep that in your pocket so some excessively law abiding person doesn't report it," he said, handing it back.
"I saw a jewelry store back a ways," Jeff remembered. "Might the jeweler buy this so we could trade?"
"Yes, but it will get reported. And it may make my sale come to the attention of the authorities. Most of our business is cash for a reason," he said.
"Oh, OK I understand," Jeff said. Cluing up that there were tax issues. "I think I might have a solution. Barak, there is a fellow back a few stalls selling tools. Would you please go back and buy a center punch or a screw set, an awl or an ice pick and a hammer?" He went over to Tara and had a few words and Tara took off back the way they'd come.
They stood chatting comfortably with the merchant about life on the island and life on Home, finding plenty to talk about. Barak got back first.
Jeff put the coin on top of a post marking the stall corner and picked a point in the plain area of sky on the front face art work. A smart strike of the center punch left a conical indention with a raised rim. He switched to the awl and drove it in further and he wiggled it loose and struck it a few more times. When he had a bump on the reverse side he used the punch there and switched back and forth until he had a hole through the coin, with a bevel leading into the hole on both faces. The gold was just displaced, not removed, so it retained its weight.
Tara got back while Jeff was finishing up and handed Jeff a small package when he was done. Jeff removed a very thin gold necklace, about a half meter long. The ends had a lobster clasp and a thin jump ring on the other end to engage it.
The ring wouldn't fit through the hole, so Jeff put the ring over the point of the awl. He pulled a small case of dental tape from his pocket and looped a double thickness through the same ring. Pushing the awl in the post to anchor it he pulled on the floss until the ring was bent oval shaped. It fit through the hole now.
Jeff, fished the chain through the hole, forced the awl in the jump ring further to force it round again, fastened the chain closed and offered it to the tapa merchant. "Would you take this gold chain and decorative pendant in trade Papahi? If you can trade it for double the spot price or more, it's twenty-five grams, worth considerably more than you asked."
"I believe you'd say, that's a deal," Papahi said, taking the 'jewelry' and hanging it out of sight under his shirt. "I just need to get a shipping address for Pilinsesi April, then I'll package this up securely and send it along to you."
Walking back to the hotel April asked Lin. "What did Mr. Helu call me back there? "
"Pilinsesi? It means Princess. I'm not sure their titles of nobility translate across well, but he said it very seriously. I'm sure he meant it as an expression of respect."
Heather held it in as well as she could. But every once in awhile April could hear a giggle escape back there. She ignored it.
Chapter 3
They had to get up early to pack, have breakfast and still make their shuttle. None of them were concerned about skipping eating for a shuttle ride. Most of them would take the pill for insurance and not worry. April and Heather could have skipped it, but taking it was easier than telling the boarding agents they hadn't. They never believed anybody who said they didn't get sick.
The hotel room service was expensive and limited, so they stopped at another local restaurant. It served more natives than travelers, was reasonable and the corned beef hash was wonderful. Their waitress however was ditzy, slow and made them rush to make their flight.
Their shuttle was a Mitsubishi and April was surprised to see it looked old. She was accustomed to most things around her looking new, until she expected it without a second thought. Something like a landing shuttle tended to become obsolete before it wore out. It would be cut up and scrapped and the stuff like electronics sent to be hand disassembled for gold and copper, the subassemblies would be shredded to an almost confetti fine consistency for recovery.
Their war with North America was a couple years back, but it was probably still forcing extended service from older shuttles. They had destroyed most every small shop in North America that made the critical components like special tires and Bucky foam shapes. You could throw up an assembly building pretty fast, but getting all the pieces made again wasn't near as easy. Europe, Russia and Japan had picked up what they could, but half the shuttles in service had been American. She'd helped remove a couple from service herself, rather abruptly.
There were two staggered seats to a side, three rows deep, separated by a very narrow aisle. The head was on the left, straight in from the lock and extra space between the right hand seats and the front bulkhead was the entry from the lock. It made the front right seats the most luxurious, uncrowded with extra foot room, something Gunny appreciated.
Gunny picked the first row aisle seat and planted himself in it, isolating April against the port, but leaving her first access to the lock, not that it meant very much with no pressure suits. Jeff and Heather sat behind, Jeff giving Heather the port seat when asked. Barak took the front port seat on the other side of the aisle. He was looking around with a dubious expression that said he felt the vessel belonged in a museum with stage coaches and steam locomotives.
After she fastened her carry on by her seat she came back up and looked for a manufacturer's tag near the lock. It wasn't in the entry, but beside the hatch to the flight deck. Instead of a peel and stick plastic card it was an aluminum plate, riveted to the bulkhead, with the model / date / build all stamped in the blanks. The numbers were placed carefully, but still crooked enough you could tell they'd been done with a hand held stamp and hammer, not a machine engraver.
The vessel was two years older than April. In space ships that was ancient. There was a clean spot on the bulkhead where an older intercom to the flight crew had been removed. The greenish phosphate covering was worn away next to it, where a thousand times a hand had braced there to press the call bar and the holes were filled in by putting new rivets in them. Above that patch was a new intercom with a twenty five centimeter screen and no switches or visible speaker grill, just the tiny circle of a camera lens and an audio jack. It displayed a virtual call button in one corner. The crew left it defaulted to off, not sharing a view of the flight stations.
There were shiny spots where the anodizing was worn off around the hatch collar, because a hand or a foot always went to one spot coming through the hatch. Recessed in the hatch ribbing was a small stick on white board, with dates and initials for the last time the seal was replaced, or the hinges lubricated and checked for free play.
About a year ago C.J. had written: Last service – retiring and then after initialing it drew not a smiley face, but a little devil with horns. The three entries after that in a different hand were attributed to D.M. and the center one had a few Japanese characters. April assumed there were more permanent records somewhere, but it was interesting.
The acceleration couch she returned to had seen better days too. The cushion edge where you slid on and off was slumped and didn't spring back to its full shape. The plastic caps to the arm rests had the texture worn off until it was shiny. Nothing was unserviceable and nothing was dirty, but at a glance you knew it wasn't new, like looking in the door of a ten year old ground car. It also lacked any trace of the distinctive smell of a new ground car or spaceship.
A group of three men were at the lock, so April sat back in her seat to clear the narrow aisle. It felt weird now, to not have the frame of a Singh acceleration compensator close overhead when on the couch. That made her wonder if Jeff had a timeline to sell them for commercial shuttles. She'd have to ask him.
The first fellow in the lock was young with close cut hair and dark spex. He was dressed in belted Khaki pants and a golf shirt. He wore Earthie style cross-trainer shoes, rather than the lighter more flexible versions station dwellers would favor. You couldn't see his eye movements, but from how he held his head he was scanning the passenger compartment to the back corners. The fellow behind him was older and not typical. He was skinny with long hair formed in a loose braid with loose bits sticking out all messy. He had bare arms, heavily frowned upon in North America now as well as Tonga and they were covered in bright tattoos, which made them a double social error. The man behind him was a clone of the first.
"Excuse me, would you please clear this front row? He said to April and Gunny. "I'd like to put my man right by the lock and sit beside him for security purposes."
"That's why she's in that seat," Gunny informed him. "I'm her security."
The fellow's mouth scowled, but made a silent sign to the rearmost and they turned and went back outside.
"Wow, does that mean they aren’t going to fly if he can't sit here?" April asked.
"Nah, they are going to go ask the carrier to assign seats and force us in the back corner. I'm pretty sure 'first come first served' is a hard set company policy. They will offer to sell them tickets for a later lift if they want to line up early and have the first choice of seats."
Sure enough, ten minutes later they came back in, carefully didn't look at Gunny and went to the rear of the side opposite, putting their charge in the rear port seat. One sat beside him and one in front. The young guys seemed unhappy, but the tattooed man was unruffled.
They acquired an obvious beam dog, who looked horribly hung over, a very well dressed Japanese couple and a fellow festooned with photo gear wearing a vest with more pockets than it seemed likely he could own enough junk to fill. All the other seats were occupied now, so the photographer took the last empty seat next to the security guy in the middle row.
In the hushed cabin, you could hear the body guard speak to him. "Our client would appreciate if you refrain from photographing him."
"That might be a problem, if I knew who the bloody hell he is, Jack." The fellow scoffed.
"He's Amos, lead singer for The Ancient Astronauts." The security man obviously didn't believe he was unaware of that.
"Oh, then if he's a public figure, you're damned silly to think you can say he's off limits, but I'm not a paparazzi , I won't waste my battery charge on him. I think my kid listens to them, useless noise as far as I'm concerned." That pretty much ended any friendly chit chat.
The flight crew came in, an Oriental lady and a surprisingly small blonde Caucasian man. He had a FedEx hard shell pack under one elbow like a lunch box, plastered with all sorts of blue and green safety color biohazard stickers and not even the normal orange expedited stickers, but the special square stickers instead, that said HOT in big letters on a hot pink background. Somebody paid a fortune to lift that if it was hand delivered to ride in the flight cabin. Just in case you didn't get the message it was special, it was sealed by a crimped steel band around the whole box, instead of the usual plastic cable tie in the lock loops.
They got things sorted out up front, stowed the hot freight away somewhere and the number two pilot, the Scandinavian, came back to the hatch and hung on the collar looking them over.
"Jefferson Singh?" he inquired.
"That's me," Jeff said waving. The fellow looked at Jeff hard, like he might be joking.
"You are listed on the manifest as a licensed lander pilot. Is that correct?"
"Yes and my friend April here is an apprentice going for the same ticket."
"On what type are you qualified?"
"Only for our own first of class shuttle, Dionysus' Chariot."
"Your own? You mean it is a Home built and ported vessel?"
"That too, but we and Ms. Anderson here with us, are the owners also."
"I always like to know if we have any qualified people flying with us. You aren't rated for a Mitsubishi D body then?"
"Not at all. I don't even know what your board looks like. Our ship can do aerobraking like a D body, but we're able to do powered vertical landings. April and I are both rated for orbit to orbit too."
"Indeed," That got a high lifted eyebrow. "Welcome aboard," he said, which was safe enough and polite. He retreated to the flight cabin and dogged the hatch closed.
"We look too young to him," Jeff said, not upset, but certain.
"They're Earth based even if they are spacers," April pointed out. "There's still some Earth Think clinging there." Jeff just nodded agreement.
The lift was normal to the point of boring, the old shuttle worn, but just fine in every mechanical particular that mattered.
Chapter 4
They docked at ISSII and never went in spin, staying in the zero G mast, just moving down to another dock that had a screen showing a shuttle to Home in twenty minutes. The well inked man and his two bodyguards joined them, with one of the guards standing right at the hatch the entire wait, obviously intent on having first choice of seats when they boarded.
The guards were obviously not spacers, but they handled themselves with enough finesse that you could guess they had been in zero G before. The musician was a little more awkward, but was sensible, not trying anything fancy. He showed no discomfort, so either he had a natural ability to tolerate the weightlessness or he had the good sense to take the offered pill.
They were switching carriers, so their luggage was delivered to the dock. April didn't bother, but Gunny broke the Tongan customs seal on his bag and put on a belt with a matched brace of 10mm pistols and a magazine carrier. He was after all on duty.
"Isn't that a decompression hazard?" the body guard near them asked, worried.
"Not with low velocity frangible ammo." Gunny didn't tell him the left gun held armor piercing, just in case. He'd really try not to use that one.
The flight crew arrived early and opened up the shuttle. Two ladies, both middle aged and both with that smooth tight face and easy movement that said they had life extension therapy. April couldn't put a name to them, but she'd seen both before. They had on the gray uniform with a stylized rocket logo of Larkin Lines. April was happy to see that, they ran a tight outfit.
They filled the luggage locker full as most orbit to orbit travelers didn't have the volume of bags they'd brought up from an Earth visit. The musician's body guards looked happier now, being able to pick their seats. Then they sat for awhile because there were three paid seats empty and they had ten minutes until their published departure time.
It was down to the last thirty seconds before two kids hit the hatch fast and utterly confident like birds landing on a fence. The older one, the boy of about ten crossed over his sister and stuck his head in the hatch to the flight cabin. "Our dad is coming." He assured the crew. "He just can't move as fast as us so he told us to go ahead. They didn't like his papers getting out of the North American Sector and wanted to argue."
April's face clouded over in a frown. "Are they aware you are boarding a Home vessel?"
"I don't think they ever got around to talking about where we're going, not while we were there, dad seems to be on the don't fly list," the boy told her. "We just jumped past them through the gate and what are they going to do? They can't keep up with us either and it looks really bad to try to Taser a couple kids." The little devil grinned at playing that advantage.
"It's stupid," the little girl declared. "We've been up before. We're the same people."
April got out of her couch, "The three of us," she informed the crew woman, "are the partners of Singh Industries, with who Larkin Lines does a great deal of business. I'd appreciate it if you would declare a ten minute hold to local control. We will indemnify you for any loss or fines you receive for the hold."
"I'm quite aware of who you are. I've seen you speak in the Assembly. We will tell local control we are holding until our passengers board and hang our weapons boom out in case they don't understand we are upset," she hurried back into the crew space.
"Thank you," April called after the crewwoman, she turned to Gunny, "I need a pistol," she demanded, open hand out.
"I made sure your bag was on top," Gunny said, getting up and going to the locker. "Get your own, because I intend to go with you."
"You are not obligated to guard me when I seek trouble." April admitted. Gunny already had the customs tape cut and spread the bag open. April pulled out an aikuchi and stuck it in her waist band and then the laser, not bothering with a holster, just taking it in her hand.
"I want to."
"Thank you," April said. The brother and sister still hanging by the crew hatch looked shocked at this turn of events.
The lights flickered and there were various sounds as the vessel detached from station utilities, which wasn't normal with the lock hanging wide open. Gunny closed the bag and stuffed it back in the locker. "You kids take a couch and belt in. When we come back we may want to leave quickly and you are one less thing we need to sort out."
"Yes sir," they said in unison and moved quickly to the furthest open seats.
Gunny went out the lock, with April close behind. There were two customs and immigration agents approaching down the mast with a man between them.
"Are my kids aboard?"
"Aboard and strapped in, ready to depart," Gunny assured him.
"We did not release them to board," one of the agents said, angry.
"Read the departure screen," April told him. "Where is this vessel going?"
The man looked at the flat screen on the boom bulkhead. "Oh, shit…He didn't tell us he was going to Home," the agent complained. "He had a NA passport."
"You don't have a departure schedule at your duty station?"
"Yeah, but there are four shuttles in count to leave. Only this one is going to Home."
"Now you know. Is there any further problem?" Gunny asked, not especially friendly.
"No problem," the fellow agreed. He and his partner had holstered Tasers, April had a weapon in hand and Gunny two visible. That may have helped keep the conversation simple and brief. They turned to go.
"You have my passport," the fellow objected, holding his hand out.
He was sullen, but the customs agent put it in his hand.
"Do you have anything else they held up, any luggage?" April asked.
"No, I anticipated problems, so we decided not to burden ourselves with anything we couldn't fit in our pockets. Thank you for your help. I owe you. We are the Wilsons, I'm Matt, could I have your names?"
"I am April Lewis, this is my hired man Mack Tindal, call him Gunny. Strap in and we can talk later, we're past departure time. They know better than this," she complained to Gunny.
When they came in through the lock the crew woman who had agreed to a hold was braced in the hatch opening to the crew cabin, feet on one side, shoulders against the opposite flange, she had a short barreled twelve gauge nestled in her arms, watching the lock carefully.
"They say we're clear to boost," Gunny told her. "Don't trust them to mean it."
"I won't. Would you close and dog the lock, please?" she asked and closed crew access and they could hear it seal shut when the dogs clunked.
"Lock closed," Gunny reported at the intercom before he was the last to strap in. The crew undoubtedly had sensors on their board, but it didn't hurt to confirm it.
The little girl, not much younger than the boy, maybe a year, spoke to her dad when he strapped in the seat ahead of her. "Dad, she's the one the teenagers all copycat and upset all the teachers and mall cops!"
The grapples withdrew with a distant thud and they got a gentle push sideways with no delay. A couple more turns and pushes and the speaker came alive. "Nobody is giving us any trouble. We will ramp to a very modest third G burn in fifteen seconds. Local control approved our altered departure with no comment. Thanks for flying Larkin Lines," she added automatically.
* * *
At Home his guards hustled the musician out the door quickly. He was slow, but April's party wasn't in any hurry, patiently following them down the short north mast.
Eddie and April's grandfather met them at the bearing portal to spin. It was a huge contrast to the mob that greeted her last return from Earth. It was the middle of main shift and April's parent's would both be working and Heather's mother had a very hands off approach to raising her children, so nobody felt slighted or ignored.
They all logged on at the security station, touching the ceramic plate of the DNA reader. Nobody was fussy enough to ask a wipe down before using it, but several of them used a sani-wipe before putting on fresh gloves. The plate was silver impregnated and had an ultraviolet lamp flooding it so it should be safe, but people were paranoid. There were some strange new diseases coming out of the African continent recently, so it wasn't entirely a baseless worry.
Eddie was babbling on to Jeff about getting landing rights for Dionysus' Chariot in Australia and Barack was bending her grandfather's ear about something. The three ahead of them were a little slower in zero G and they were going to catch up before they got to the elevator. The musician pulled a granola bar or a candy bar out of his pocket and opened it. He crumpled the wrapped and tossed it 'down' to the floor, but there was so little spin here it rolled up the curved bulkhead on the air currents.
"Hey, you dropped something!" April called out to him. When he looked she pointed to the wrapper still slowly climbing the surface counter-clockwise.
"It's just trash, the clean-bot will get it," he said, with an honestly quizzical look on his face.
"There is no clean-bot in zero G. The hand rails get wiped down weekly and the bulkheads get a wipe-down maybe every six months. Your trash will float around until it gets sucked into an air filter, or somebody else picks it up and takes it to a trash receptacle, because we don't want to live in a pig sty like an Earth city. I'm informing you what local custom is," she said pointedly. She was still irritated from the customs people breaking the free travel agreement and not in a mood to let anything slide.
He'd turned around and April hadn't stopped. It would have been OK, but his security man thrust himself between them and held a hand up to stop April. He wasn't very graceful in zero G and he ended up stopping his own motion by pushing off of April's shoulder.
"How dare you lay hands on me?"
"I doubt the young lady is a threat to me Ron, I think you can back off."
"They're armed and I see a hazard," Ron insisted.
"There is a hazard, but you have no idea what it is," April told him. "If you will promise to keep your hands to yourself in the future, I'll ignore your ignorance."
"I didn't really intend to make contact, but I'm just doing my job. You can't press in on my client like that when you are arguing. I'd have stopped you getting closer in any case."
"You aren't capable of stopping me if I decided to get physical with your client, or you, but you have no idea of your limitations. You will apologize or you will meet me here tomorrow morning and give me satisfaction. You have the choice of weapons, or if you come unarmed we will fight bare handed." April was horrified, it was like some stranger's voice saying this, but she was taking out every diminutive statement and insult built up in memory out on this final disrespectful act.
Eddie behind them muttered an indiscreet, "Oh, shit."
"That's easy for you to say with armed security standing behind you."
"Hey, I'm standing back watching," Gunny pointed out. He even took his hand off the rail and showed his empty palms to the guy before taking a grip again. "I'm supposed to deal with criminals and assassins, if she wants to duel that's her's to see to."
"You're crazy if you think I'll duel with you, nobody does that anymore."
"Indeed, I'm sorry to be the second person to advise you of local custom," her grandfather said, "but if you refuse to meet her she will post notice and you will be permanently expelled and barred from Home. The matter has come up before and is well established by the Assembly. Are you certain you want to kill this man?" he asked April as an aside.
"No, I just want a little respect. But what other way do I have to get it? I refuse to just brawl here with him until he yields and if I had struck back at him when he pushed me it would have drawn in the other fellow and then maybe some of our group. I won't have them laying hands on me and bringing their Earth Think into Home corridors until it's like living on the slum ball."
The musician Amos jerked like he was slapped at slum ball. "Joe, you handle yourself better in no gravity, would you grab that wrapper for me, please? I'll at least give Ms. Lewis that much satisfaction."
"Thank you," April was quick to acknowledge.
"Would you consider letting the matter slide with my man?"
"I'm sorry, no."
"Ron, I won't urge you to do anything either way. I've been happy with your service. If you don't want to apologize I'll pay your early passage off Home. If Joe wants to go with you I'll find other security locally or do without." Amos appeared more concerned than upset. He took his recovered wrapper from Joe and stashed it in a pocket.
Ron looked back and forth between them frowning. He took a deep breath. "I apologize for bumping you. I'll try to not do it again. If I do please understand it's just clumsiness in zero G. I'd really appreciate your assurance you won't hold it against my client, since it's true, I don't know local customs."
"Not at all, it was strictly between us and as far as I am concerned it is like it never happened now. Let's start with a clean slate," she proposed.
Ron gave a tilt of his head that was almost a bow, acknowledging it and kept his mouth shut. He went out front of Amos, to be away from April, trading places with Joe without any consultation. Joe picked up on it and fell back, so they weren't totally clueless.
At the elevator Amos stood waiting with his brow furrowed. "Might I offer to take you to dinner sometime soon, by way of further apology and to ask you more about Home?"
"I've been looking forward to going to go to dinner at the Fox and Hare tomorrow. If you'd like to join us at 1900 hours come along. It's a private social club and they won't present a bill to our table, but you are welcome to join us as my guest."
"Should I leave my security?"
"Whatever you wish. It's a small place so they may need to sit at an adjoining table, but they'll be close enough to watch you. I suggest you go see Zach at the Chandlery near the cafeteria and get spex like your guys have," she said, touching hers. "They make getting around, like finding the club, a lot easier. Can you come Gramps?"
"I wouldn't miss it, but after dinner I'd like to be excused to go off to the poker room."
"What sort of poker?" Amos asked, interested.
"Oh, it's just a friendly local game," April's grandfather explained. "Usually a fifty-hundred spread with a pot limit raise. If you suggest a bigger game with thousand dollar ante or more you may get enough guys to have a game, but most of them are going to beg off and have their own."
"That sounds interesting. Do you have to be a member to play?"
"You can be my guest if you want to play. We're not too stuck up to take your money."
"Ain't that the truth," Eddie grumbled.
April was surprised. Not that Eddie would play, but that he would lose.
Chapter 5
The next morning at breakfast April thanked Gunny again for supporting her at ISSII.
"It wasn't so much supporting you personally, as I agree we can't let the Norte Americanos slide back into ignoring treaty provisions and limiting travel to Home. They will just keep picking away at it if we let them. We can't spare the funds or personnel to put an observer at every USNA exit point. It might precipitate another war to try. So it's really up to all of Home's citizens to object, if they see somebody trying to detain a Home traveler."
"I'm going to address that next Assembly," April vowed. "Not to ask a vote, or suggest anyone be obligated, but just make an advisory announcement."
"Not everybody has the nerve or ability to get in the face of customs agents. I saw the necessity of that. However, taking such a hard line with the guard later was more than was necessary. That was twice in a day you put yourself on the line, at risk. If you keep that up the odds will catch up with you. I think the second incident was more a matter of temper than principal."
"You're right, what can I say?"
"That's sufficient. I was glad you didn't call out Amos though. He is well known down below and even if you were technically correct on custom, I think it would have been bad publicity. So far your image has been pretty positive with the common Earthies. If the politicians and security people who hate you, well, there is a huge public undercurrent against them too."
"Yes, I keep hearing that, but I don't see it."
Gunny shrugged. "It's hard to explain if you haven't lived there. They may be evil, but they aren't stupid. The ways they have to control people have been carefully refined, especially the last hundred years. Most Earthies, not just North Americans, don't see any hope of getting public support if they openly oppose their government, so they don't speak out publicly. While the governments have been quietly perfecting repression, the people have invented all sorts of ways to resist. There is much more sabotage, wrecking, than is admitted. That gives some an outlet for their frustrations without open rebellion. I never saw any advantage to rebellion. I guess I was part of the repression, since I kept Wiggen safe."
"I saw a little passive resistance in Tonga. Mr. Helu who sold me the tapas wouldn't take an electronic transfer. I'm sure he won't report the sale. But about Wiggen, she was an advantage for us for a long time. She was moderate enough not to want to attack us, when everyone else was just arguing how to time our destruction. So what you were doing helped us at the time."
"I'm still not sure we are far enough away to not be a target," Gunny worried. "When Home was attacked last year and your dad acted to move us out here toward L2, it seemed a long way away compared to Earth filling half our sky. But Earth is still there even if it looks more like a marble now. It still isn't just another pinpoint in the heavens. I'm glad actually the halo orbit lets us monitor the Earth traffic directly. If we were ever tucked in all the way behind the moon I'd worry it was possible to do a sneak attack on us and we might not see them coming until they came over the lunar horizon."
"Being in line of sight lets Jeff have direct command of his weapons. I'm more comfortable with that than working through relays," April admitted.
"I was there you know," Gunny said lifting an eyebrow. "So I know you and Heather have the control codes too, not just Jeff, unless he took them back and you didn't tell me?"
"No," April said, embarrassed. "I just figure if they get used Jeff will do so long before Heather or I would release them."
She looked at Gunny distressed and he was smart enough to keep silent when she was so visibly thinking something over hard.
"Jeff has some real issues from when he had to bomb the Jiuquan spaceport," April revealed. "Not that he wouldn't do it again, because once they had captured his ship there really wasn't any other choice but to destroy it. If the Chinese had been given time to take her apart and reverse engineer everything we'd all be dead by now without a doubt. But he really had no idea the yield on that weapon would be enough to take out the adjoining town too. He wasn't faking that. He might have been able to destroy it beyond any data recovery with the lighter warheads we had, but he just couldn't take the chance with Home's survival when he had one big enough to vaporize the whole area. If they'd started taking items off the ship and dispersing them quickly it might have made a limited strike futile."
"What do you mean, issues?"
"He sits and has crying jags. He has bad dreams. I finally got him to get some medication to help the PTS before we went down on vacation. I think taking a break helped too, but he is not like some of the Earthies paint him, indifferently depraved, like is the qualifier in most Earth law for a murderer. If anything he is too smart and only too aware of all the innocent individuals harmed."
"Is he safe to retain control of his systems?" Gunny asked, frowning.
"Would you want somebody holding them who wouldn't be bothered by using them?"
Gunny nodded reluctant agreement. "OK, I agree he shows more character by entertaining doubts than thinking himself above error. Sometimes there simply are no good choices and you have to chose what seems the least bad at the moment and go with it."
Across the cafeteria at the order counter the fellow Matt Wilson and his two kids were getting breakfast. April called them to Gunny's attention with a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow. "You mind if I call them over?"
"Not at all. Those kids didn't argue in the shuttle when I told them to go strap in, I would expect a lot of Earth kids to balk when a stranger started giving them orders. I was impressed."
Matt herded the two little ones ahead of him. When they all had their trays he turned to the seating. April waved and invited them to the chairs opposite her and Gunny with a sweep of her hand. He nodded and started their way with no hesitation, so he must not think her a trigger happy lunatic.
"Miss Lewis, Mr. Tindal," he said formally.
"Gunny is fine."
"And I'm happy with April."
"Thank you, for myself, but my children are trained to address older people respectfully."
"I wouldn't think to sabotage that," Gunny agreed.
"This is Iaan and Jenifer," their father introduced them.
"Welcome to Home," April said, looking at the kids to make sure they knew they were included in the greeting. "Are you visiting or immigrating?" she directed at the father.
"Immigrating, if I can manage it."
"We have a labor shortage, so you should be able to find something."
"I'm hoping to not have to look for a job. I'm a writer and circumstances are such now in North America that most of what I'd earn would go to my ex-wife for the rest of my career, so I had no real future there. It wasn't the best of times to leave either, but I came to realize it would never be a better time to leave, so I bit the bullet and did it."
"And yet you retain the children, despite having the minority of the income. I'd have expected your wife to pay child support," Gunny said. It sounded like a question though.
"At the time I had no income. But my quitting my job to write full time was the reason my wife divorced me, although it was at her father's urging. What can I tell you? It was California, with a female judge, very good lawyers hired with her father's money and the kids were not something that fit her proposed new life. She spoke frankly about that in front of the kids, so it's far too late to shield them from that."
"Giving her two thirds of any royalties I earned was to punish me for quitting my job as an insurance adjuster and doing what I wanted. They all assumed that I expected to live off her father's money and when my first three books sold really well it wasn't just unwelcome, it pissed them off. Her dad sees all writers, poets, musicians and artists as lazy leeches avoiding honest work, unless they have been dead long enough to satisfy him. Bach, Hemingway, or Paul McCartney for example, all get a free pass from him."
April and Gunny were stunned to silence for a bit. That he'd speak so bluntly in front of his children did say they'd heard it all before, or worse. And they didn't so much as twitch at hearing it again. Finally April worked up the courage to ask, "What does your father-in-law do that he can be so disdainful of creative people?"
"Ah, interesting question. He's a lawyer too, but not the sort that does divorces, he does corporate law dealings with finance and things like mergers. Things society needs, to his mind."
"Home doesn't have lawyers," April told him.
Matt was sipping coffee. He dropped the cup long enough to say, "The horror!" sarcastically and went on with his breakfast.
April was trying to think what that would do to a child and their lifelong attitudes to hear they were unwanted and see their custodial parent attacked. She frequently thought Earthies were barking mad, but this was a new level. Her mother was sometimes distant and seemed to favor her brother , but she'd never outright rejected April. She'd have asked other questions, but the two kids sitting there listening still made her not want to offend their sensibilities further. So she changed the subject.
"We have at least one writer I know, Ben Patsitsas, who writes mysteries."
"Sure, I've read some of his stuff. I liked it."
"There's a bunch of guys, some retired, some self employed. Most mornings, a bit later, there will be a cluster of them sitting close to the coffee. There might be three or a dozen, any given day. I don't recognize your name though. What do you write?"
"I write romances, so far they have all been historical romances, but you wouldn't recognize my work because I write as Molly Wilson."
Jenifer looked up from her pancakes and smiled. "It's lots of fun to tell your teacher your dad is Molly Wilson." Her brother nodded amused agreement. "Especially when she's a big fan."
The two seemed unusually comfortable with each other. April kept expecting a frown or a nasty crack, but there was no sign of sibling rivalry. Instead they sat touching hip to hip. She had the sad thought that she wished her brother had been like Iaan when he was alive.
"Ms. Lewis, are there many children our age on Home?" Jenifer asked. "Will we be able to make friends?"
"I remember my mom told me recently there are still less than a hundred children on Home. She runs a private school and the last we talked she had eighteen students. They all study in a room in common, because there aren't enough of any age to have grades or classes like an Earth school. There were even less kids when I was growing up. There will only be a few kids your age, but most of my friends growing up were older than me, some adults even."
Iaan and Jenifer exchanged a look that was a little alarm, a little consternation and Iaan spoke for them. "On Earth, if we weren't afraid to have an adult as a friend most of the time they would afraid to be our friend anyway. I never had a teacher I'd have called a friend. They all had an obligation to snoop on us for the government and some of them were pretty good at it. If they tried to be a friend somebody would have thought it was a Bad Thing. They'd probably get a warning on their record that they had an inappropriate relationship with a student. We had a teacher who played basketball at the city park where some of his students went and when it was hot, he not only wore short sleeves, he took his shirt off. They kicked him out of the park and made him transfer to a school in a different county." His sister nodded solemn agreement.
"My brother was older than me," April told them. "He was three years older, but we did all sorts of things together. We didn't always get along, but when you don't have that many people to do stuff with you learn to get along. That's a big difference about Home. If you treat people as disposable you run out of people who will have anything to do with you pretty fast. That applies to adults doing business with each other too. It isn't like Earth where if you get upset over some little thing and want to ignore somebody there are lots of other people to chose from."
"Do you just have one brother?" Jenifer asked.
"I did. He made a few mistakes and got with the wrong people a couple years ago and his ship blew up while it was going around the moon. I wish we'd still been close when I lost him, but we were having a lot of trouble with each other. Now I'll never have a chance to fix that."
The brother and sister looked at each other. You could see them imagining the same situation for themselves. Jenifer put her hand around Iaan's elbow like she was going to make sure he didn't get away. It was kind of touching.
"The lady there that made your breakfast, Ruby, has been my friend since I was your age. She and I traded information lots of times. I knew when stuff like sani-wipes or gloves might get bumped back on the shipping schedule and she seemed to know every time somebody changed jobs or was dating somebody new. I'd make sure she got stuff she needed before it ran low and she knew who could drop stuff off at people's cubic for us, or who would print stuff for my brother and me." She smiled. "That was back when we didn't have a print shop you could walk in and you had to get somebody to run it off their private printer. Things are a lot different now. I'd come by and when she had a break we'd sit at a table and chat a bit. We're still friends and her husband is a good guy to know too. He works outside flying a construction scooter mostly."
"When we went to public school none of the cafeteria ladies were allowed to talk to us. They would tell us if our lunch choices were outside the guidelines, but never just friendly chat. In fact the last school I went to we weren't allowed to talk at lunch. We still would sign and point and do stuff like split up something we hated on a couple trays so the monitor didn't see us throw away too much. You got written up if you wasted too much," Iaan explained.
"I can't see how that is much different than being in prison," April said.
Iaan laughed out loud, shocked at that. "You couldn't say that either! If you did you'd be labeled antisocial. Of course I guess the guys in real prison are already so solidly antisocial it wouldn't matter what they say. I mean, what else are they going to do to them?"
"Stick them in solitary?" their dad asked.
"Yeah, like detention," Iaan agreed, frowning at the new thought.
"And your parents wouldn't have been upset to know you were visiting with a service worker?" Matt asked.
"Not at all. You might have to reconsider how you regard people here. Some of the things that were true on Earth may not be here. There aren't a lot of stupid people on Home, even if their job description sounds menial to you. Even for something like corridor maintenance and cleaning, or supply and delivery, they screen for work history and psychological profile. They have more applicants than positions so they can be picky. People with degrees accept manual labor to get up here. You don't get weirdos, stinks and thieves. People who can't get along or manage to hide a problem end up back down on the mud ball pretty quickly."
"Now Ruby, as an example, is pretty sharp. She grew up in Detroit, spent some time as a loadmaster in the air force and was a college professor teaching Medieval music before she came to Home. But if you called her Doctor Dixon she might smack you with a spatula. She's always been very insightful about people and what motivates them. I've learned a lot from her and she was never shy to tell me when I was out of my depth."
"OK, things are different up here. That's why we're here, but I can see it's going to be true of a whole lot of little things I hadn't planned on being different," Matt admitted.
"It's true, we are getting more people now who are self selecting to come to Home, instead of being hired. But there are still a lot of barriers to really undesirable people coming in. If you don't have a job or a sponsor it takes quite a bit of money to live here until you can establish yourself. You have to be smart or lucky or ruthless enough to get that much money. Things on Earth are making it harder all the time for an average person to accumulate much wealth. That's why you are here right? They were going to make it hard for you to make an honest living."
"Yes, I don't know if you'd classify me as smart or lucky, but I could see every time I made more money they were going to take more. I'm moving my book sales to other countries and the new ones I'm already working on will never have any connection to the USNA. They simply won't have any handle on me to collect the money the court awarded. They may try to block my North American sales, but almost everyone now can circumvent those sort of controls if they want to. There are all sorts of black markets and grey markets and bartering."
"I'm trying to understand how the Earth economy works. My partner Jeff has me studying economics and I read the news feeds and some of the private journals, but nobody will speak frankly about how the underground economy works, or how big it really is. I know my understanding is superficial. I can't predict what Earthies will do. But nobody publishes how things really work, or it's actually a crime to say publicly how it works, so how is anybody supposed to get a depth of understanding? If you'd explain the real mechanics of it to me it would be very helpful. I can trade you help with how things work up here. Does that sound beneficial?"
"Yes, but I'm trying to understand, how is it that Jeff assigns you something to study? Are you both in some sort of a study group in school? He looks quite a bit older than you. And are you planning a career track that will use economics?" He looked genuinely puzzled.
"I'm not in any formal school right now, except a Japanese class at the University of Kyoto. I don't think I'll ever not be studying something. I'm studying to get my lander certification and I'll have to put some hours in to qualify on the specific type lander I have access to. When I went down to Earth the trip before this one, I suggested strongly to Jeff he start a bank while there was a window of opportunity on Home. By the time I came back he'd formed it and was gathering a clientele and doing transactions. He'd just started coining a local currency, the Solar, and if I wanted to be of any use to Jeff and Heather to actually help run the thing I needed to understand economics. Since it was my idea in the first place it seems like it would be pretty hard to refuse to help run it. We three do a lot of business together and they always pitch in when I need something."
"How can you contract to do business? I mean, how old are you?"
"I'm sixteen, but I'm an emancipated adult. If I look young to you, well I've had Life Extension Therapy and it pretty much all kicked in before I was fourteen. I probably won't look much different until I'm past twenty five. I'm content with how I look. If anybody has a problem with it – it's their problem."
"She's the girl who was in Hawaii last year dad. They tried to hush it all up because it's super antisocial to dress like her and she disappeared from Hawaii and nobody knew where she went or anything and then she showed back up here and was in the gossip boards and stuff again. But my friends in Europe and Australia all send me pix and stuff the net censors block. I got 'em all on my phone. I'll show you sometime if you want," Jenifer offered.
"Don't believe everything you see about me," April begged. "If you want to know if something is true ask me and I'll tell you honestly,OK?"
"OK, then tell me please, how can you eat such a big breakfast? You had twice as much as Mr. Tindal and you're half his size." Her dad looked horrified at the question.
"My parents bought me some genetic modifications and I added some myself later. My metabolism can run quite a bit faster than normal so I eat more. It lets me do some things like run a lot further than other people."
"That's really personal stuff, Jenifer," her dad told her.
"Well she said to ask!"
"If there is ever anything I ever don't want to answer, I'll just tell you. Your dad is right, I have some stuff I keep private, just not the same stuff he might guess. Now down on Earth lots of people believe gen mod people are horrible and a lot of people think Life Extension Therapy is bad too, but nobody makes a fuss about it up here."
"This is a whole lot better than the breakfast at school," Iaan told them. "And there's no compliance officer counting our food groups." He blinked and looked at his empty plates and his sister's with a funny expression. "And I didn't even think about throwing any of it away!"
* * *
"You were unusually tactful with Mr. Wilson," Gunny said later, out in the corridor.
"Compared to my – usual self?"
"Well, you could have felt he was attacking your friend Ruby when he suggested service workers were not fit company. You do tend to have a certain directness."
"I'm remembering how Lin told us they need to be so careful hiring people for the boat. It is probably the same in North America. Desperate people do bad things. If Lin is careful of his boat and crew how much more is Matt going to guard his kids? But we'll nudge him along to see it's Earth think, that he can ease off on a little bit. Maybe we are as hard to understand to them. I sure hope we don't get more criminal and corrupt people than we can weed out, so Home stays different than Earth."
"I'm sure we'll have some native criminals. Some people are just born defective and the Assembly will have to deal with them. I'm just not sure how yet. You can hardly exile somebody who was born here. Where would we send them?" Gunny asked.
"Good question."
"You know I'm not having much trouble switching from Earth to Home. Most of it makes sense to me. I even elected to pay taxes so I can vote."
"Good, that's one more sensible voter we have."
Chapter 6
"Heather needed to get back to Central," Jeff told April on com. "She had a lunar flight connection last night and said to tell you goodbye. I have to stay here for now and work out some things with Dave for the guys doing the next snowball run. They are leasing some tech and we'll get a little money now and a small percentage down the line."
"How big a snowball do they want to bring back?"
"This one they are looking for something small, no more than a half million tons. Anything bigger would take too long to bring back. The cost of borrowed money for a longer trip adds so much expense they couldn't have gotten investors."
April had a sudden concern. "There's a company bringing one back right now. Is this new company going to undercut their price? Is that going to ruin the first guys?
"Every ton the first expedition will bring back was pre-sold. Just like this one will be. It's going to be a long time before supply catches up with demand, and yes, I expect every trip to get water will be cheaper as they refine the methods and know where to find the best size and density of ice to grab."
"So where are they going to park it?"
"They are going to put it near us, but as deep inside the Earth's shadow as they can make it, to hold station without eating up too much mass stabilizing it. They can't keep it in the umbra all the time, but they are going to work at minimizing the time it is sees any solar disk at all."
"Could they cover one side in something reflective?"
"It would cost too much. But they are going to mine it starting on the edges and reduce it from a sphere to a cylinder as they use it up. They think it can be kept end on to the sun as it is reduced. They may directly vacuum deposit a reflector on the end of the cylinder when it gets small enough."
"So they will just accept a certain amount of loss?"
"They're already doing that with the propulsion, bringing it back. They can only take so many plasma drives, so they are going to throw a lot of extra mass out at less than optimum velocity to get it back faster. They may use up eight to ten percent of it just getting it back. They'll accelerate all the way, but they aren't sure if they will try to flip it over to brake or just take the drives to the other end. It depends a lot on how stiff or slushy the ice is. If it seems too soft they might break it up trying to rotate it."
"When you start with a half million tons that still leaves a lot."
"When you figure what a ton of water costs to lift from Earth, it boggles the brain. I got us seven tenths of a percent share and I'll be happy if they recover half of it in the end," Jeff said.
April stopped and thought about it a minute. "A hundred and seventy five thousand kilograms of water?"
"A hundred and seventy five cubic meters," Jeff said smiling. "I'd still be very happy if we ended up with a hundred tons. Would you like a swimming pool in your lunar home?"
"You'd have to get it down to the surface. I'm sure we'll have better use for this water. But it isn't too crazy to think you could do that someday, is it?"
"Not at all. Maybe in ten or fifteen years, when there is steady traffic from the outer system. And if I get to build a lunar beanstalk we can take it down to Central cheaply with no loss. I figure the Earth tourists will just expect a nice pool in their hotel, don't you think?"
"And a chocolate mint on their pillow," April joked.
"If they can pay for putting it there, fine, and anything else they want. If we have to provide luxuries for tourists it will be that much sooner we can afford them for ourselves. I'd love to see tunnels for growing strawberries and melons and tanks for shrimp and fish. All of which will need quite a bit of water and make-up volume for losses."
"You're ambitious," April said, but it wasn't disapproving.
"You don't know the half of it," Jeff promised her.
* * *
April held out as long as she could before going to lunch. Supper was going to be later than usual and she didn't want to be starved and make a spectacle packing it in. Gunny was off talking with his security business friends, he'd be with her late at the night club. He only owed her so many hours a day. It was late enough it wasn't busy.
"You been catching a few rays," Ruby said, smiling. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Uh, I've been what?"
"I guess people don't say that any more, it's probably a generational thing, or an Earth expression. You've been catching some rays – sunshine – 'cause you got a bit of a tan. Some sunshine is good for you, raises your vitamin D levels. It does look fine on you I have to admit."
"Oh," April lifted her arm and looked at it like she'd never seen it before. "I was kind of oblivious. It snuck up on me. Jeff, Gunny, Heather and her little brother Barak all probably look a lot darker, but it happened over a couple weeks so I didn't think about it. Heather had some pills for us that keep you from burning unless you really overdo it."
" You are current on your anticancer vaccines aren't you? Sunlight ups your risk a little bit."
"Oh, sure. I don't neglect my health. You know, I've always liked how gold jewelry looks on black people. It just looks like a million bucks with the higher contrast, but the same base tint. I'm going to the Fox and Hare tonight, so I'll try some of my gold jewelry on and see if it looks better with my tan."
"Gold looks good on any color," Ruby insisted, rolling her eyes a bit. "Then we should see you tonight. Easy and I will be at the club and I'm going to play a little bit and he's going to do a little routine to the music."
"When did you start doing that?"
"This will be the second time. We were there one night the singer got sick and had to go home. I asked the manager if he'd like a little keyboard music and he was brave enough to give me a try unheard. Must have liked it too, because he asked us back. He's not cheap either, he offered a decent fee and when we went to leave he comped our bill."
"I'm glad to hear that, because I own a little interest in the place. I wouldn't want it to get a reputation for being tight fisted."
Ruby looked at her sharply, "Did you have anything to do with renaming it?"
"Yeah, It was something one of the security guys said. That pair of lieutenants who came up from North America? The one, Friedman, told me that's what Germans say, instead of the middle of nowhere. Do you like it?"
"Oh, yeah. When I saw the sign in the corridor I had to stop and look up on my pad what, "Wo sich Fuchs und Hase Gute Nacht sagen," meant. I really like the hare with the big German clay pipe and the Fox in the checked vest and glasses. I'm not surprised it was you."
"Thank you," April said blushing.
"Hah! You're pretty brown now, but you still show a blush."
April thought about it a second. "I guess you're right. As dark as he is, I've seen Easy naked cleaning up from a long work period in a p-suit. And I've seen him super stressed with an idiot waving a gun at him and all upset in the hand ball court chewing me out for doing something stupid, but I've never seen him show a blush."
"Oh that," Ruby said, dismissively waving her hand. "That's not 'cause he's so dark, that's 'cause he's shameless."
* * *
Back in the corridor there was a sweet pleasant smell in the air and the corridor seemed crowded. Home was closer to three thousand people than two, April realized. The rate of building wasn't keeping up with the population. Heather said Central would have fifty people before the end of the year too. April tried to imagine as many people stuffing Central as Home. It seemed unlikely still, but it was easier to expand on the moon. When April was passing Cindy and Frank's tailor shop there was a poster in the window that caught her eye.
There were two young people drawn, meeting at the south dock bearing. The girl had obviously just come up from Earth. She still had on little green tennis shoes almost like the ones April had bought to wear on the boat. Keds Classics they were called, though hers were bright red. Her top was a floral blouse with buttons and her pants traditional jeans with a wide belt and a big brass buckle in front. Her purse trailed loosely in zero G hanging on a shoulder strap instead of being fastened at her waist. It all shouted Earth style.
He was wearing footies with separate toes, but two tone, which she had never seen. The bottoms a dark gray like a slipper and the upper part a bright rusty brown with a crème strip separating them. His pants were baggy with a double pleat down each side and closed at the cuff like a long sleeved shirt. They were an odd nappy fabric with dark lines in a random orientation on mocha brown. The waist was self belted in a wider version of the ankle closure.
He had on spex and short spacer hair, but a little chin beard that was short and triangular shaped, with the apexes rounded. His t-shirt surprised her, it had a big image, maybe two hundred millimeters across, of one of Jeff's Solar coins. The view on the front was the image of Home with the Rock drawn closer than reality in the background and the Earth filling most of the sky behind both, but enough space showing for the moon to be in what was left over. April didn't know if such a shirt really existed, but if it did the other face of the coin should be printed on the back. Of course Home wasn't in Earth orbit anymore so the coins were dated already.
The young man was waiting, one foot in a take hold, the other braced behind to absorb the shock, because the young woman was flying through the air, both arms extended, ready to grab him around the neck. They looked very happy to see each other.
Behind them a woman was headed in station, an improbable number of packages and children in tow. A heavy Earthie in a business suit following looked distressed, his tie floating up over his face and his loose pant legs climbing half way to his knees. His key ring and security swipe card chain had come loose from his open pocket and were following his trajectory.
It was great art, done in colored pencil and a little ink pen. The poster size was a print, but the original was modest, about three hundred fifty millimeters on the long edge. When the address was given to bid on it April didn't hesitate, she pulled it up on her com and whistled. It had only been up three days and had four to run. The high bid was already a bit over five thousand EuroMarks.
What was the point of having money if you couldn't treat yourself? April didn't clutter her space with a lot of junk, but this would be out of the way, flat on a wall. She'd save it for when her renter Papa-san, more formally known as Tetsuo Santos, and his wife would be out of her cubic and into their own space in the new ring. She'd need much more than a picture to hang on the wall. They'd rented her space before she had a chance to move in, so it hadn't had any remodeling at all. But they seemed happy with that for a few months. She already had the remodeling all laid out and materials bought, ready to do when the Santos vacated soon.
She'd worried they'd feel cramped after living in a spacious home in Hawaii, but they'd immediately made arrangements to share it with a business associate and his family they'd met on the shuttle coming up. Papa-san had never mentioned it. She wondered if he really thought she didn't know who lived in her cubic? She'd been a snoop since she was about five.
It was a Vickrey auction, high bidder wins, but best bids are hidden and the second price is public and paid. Since bid was over five thousand EM so she'd bid fifteen thousand and asked the site to call her if that was breeched. She'd have to see what else this artist drew. She really wanted it.
When she continued down the corridor the odor was emanating from the Home Chandlery, Zach was waving at her from behind the counter, a mug in hand.
"Want a chocolate chip cookie?"
"Sure, I can find room for one."
He put a mug of coffee in front of her without asking, along with two cookies.
"You're adding on-site baked goods?"
"Nah, these are just to get people in the door and talking. I've been doing it two weeks and business is up, but I've gained three kilo too. You been down to Earth," he said, laying his pale arm beside her's on the counter.
"Ruby just mentioned that to me. It kind of snuck up on me and I didn't even notice it."
"There are still people on Earth who use an UV lamp to get a tan. They used to have little shops where you could duck in and get irradiated to get a tan when my dad was a kid. They pretty much legislated them out of existence before the cancer vaccines came out. Now it isn't as popular as it used to be."
"These are good. Do you make them up from scratch?"
"Yeah, Scratch brand, frozen in a bag. Pop them in the counter top oven and they are done in twelve minutes. It's being hot from the oven that makes them so good. By tomorrow they'd be just average, like grocery store bag cookies, if they lasted that long."
"Thanks for the cookies, but I'm not buying anything today."
"That's OK, the new guy with all the ink on his arms came in at the last minute yesterday and bought my best spex, he mentioned you'd recommended me, by name."
"That's all he bought?"
"Customer privacy, April," Zach said, looking uncomfortable.
"That's what I figured. They're armed now."
Headed back home April thought she might check in on her Japanese class. Or given the cookies on top of lunch she might just nap…
Chapter 7
The Fox and Hare was on the half G level. It was semi-industrial, without the nice carpet and indirect lighting of the pricey full G level. The business was still the Home Social Club and it was a private buy-in club, but last year April presented the other owners with the idea of naming the actual store like a pub. She'd commissioned a sign to hang in the corridor and got it approved after some modifications for safety. It was hung high and spring loaded so that if someone bumped into it, or a tall freight cart load smacked it, there was no resistance, it just swung out of the way.
The shape was nearly a shield, the name an arch at the top. The scene was just after sunset in a snowy glen, with the bare trees of winter behind. The colored sunset played off the snow and a Fox and Hare regarded each other, their tracks in the snow. But they were semi-cartoon animals, the Hare with a German style clay pipe and the Fox a checkered vest and wire framed glasses. On the bottom across the snow it said, "Wo sich Fuchs und Hase Gute Nacht sagen," or "Where the hare and the fox say goodnight," an expression she found much cuter than her equivalent English usage of the middle of nowhere.
Gunny and she were a little early. She'd reserved six seats at two tables and told the manager there would be guests. But they didn't want to come in to find their guests seated waiting on them. Gunny was dressed nicer than usual, an unstructured jacket with lace cuffs showing from under the sleeves. She'd never seen that except in period movies. He had on an Ascot under an open collar, but she'd never seen one and didn't know what to call it. He could still surprise her.
April had decided not to get very dressy tonight. She wore all black with the full kit of Lunar armored vest and gadgets and weapons filling her belt, with the smaller of two real Japanese swords her maternal grandfather from Australia had given her. The longer one was too much trouble to bother with most of the time. She usually wore it over the shoulder and it would be in the way in the crowded club. She hadn't worn the black outfit in a couple months.
The only dressy things she wore were a massive gold anchor chain her brother willed her, enameled gold cufflinks that were a gift from a French gentleman and a set of gold and canary diamond earrings that usually went with a different matching necklace. But she thought they worked with the rest of it just fine.
Gunny and she asked for the tables to be moved together. She took a seat to the center so her guest could be beside her. Gunny joined her for now, but indicated he's let her grandfather sit between them when he came. There wasn't much of a crowd yet and the lights were still up a bit as the music hadn't started.
She got an orange juice with ginger ale and twist of lime. If she drank any alcohol at all it would be mild. She wasn't fully comfortable yet with Amos or his bodyguards and she only drank enough to feel it if she was with well trusted friends.
They got the smaller appetizer tray while they waited, an antipasto with pickled veggies and hard boiled eggs. It had a few hot peppers and the eggs were deep purple. Gunny ordered some dark French beer she'd never heard of. It came in an interesting bottle with a little ceramic cap on a wire closure and a castle on the label.
Amos came in with his two body guards and was half way across the room before she recognized him. He had on a collarless white shirt that buttoned to the neck, hiding all his tattoos. His hair that had been a wild tangle on the shuttle was combed back and dressed with something and capped with a knit hat like a bowl that covered most of it. The body guards looked exactly the same, to where April wondered if Khakis and golf shirts were an unofficial uniform for their company.
April patted the table to her right and Amos took the hint and slid in next to her. One guard sat beside him, but the other went to the bar and took a pull down seat there. Why April couldn't figure out, but it made it less cramped at the tables, so that was fine with her.
"Help yourself," April said, waving at the appetizers. "I'll get another batch run out and something for your man at the bar. What are you drinking?"
"A Mimosa like you have sounds good. Is your grandfather still coming?"
"I'm sure he is, or he'd have left me a message." April caught their waiter's eye and ordered more appetizers and laid her hand on her drink and asked for a big Mimosa for Amos. The server was smart enough not to correct her on what her drink was, just nodding. She was pretty sure if she asked for another for herself it would be the non-alcoholic version. That was the sort of thing that was nice about Home. You could count on your server being bright enough to figure out you didn't want your dinner companion knowing what you drank without a funny look or hesitation. The man at the bar got a smaller plate even before their next tray came.
"This is a little place," Amos said surprised. "I wonder that it can sustain itself. Down on Earth you need at least two hundred seats, three hundred is really better, to make a club viable. I've invested in a couple restaurants and studied what makes them succeed."
"This is a huge cubic for Home," April told him. "To buy these rooms and the kitchen space, even on the half G level, was probably twelve to fourteen million dollars USNA. And that was before the population increase we've had. Prices have gone up even with a new ring being built. I'd expect it might be eighteen by now."
"Wow, just the property taxes would be ruinous."
"That's Earth Think," April said grinning. "We don't have property taxes."
"How do you fund public education and local services then?"
"There is no public education. You teach your kids yourself or you pay somebody to do it. As a matter of fact my mother runs a private school and as far as the local services, we meet once a year and vote a budget, item by item. If you want a vote you agree to be taxed to fund it. If you don't volunteer to be taxed you get no vote."
"So how many agree to be taxed? A dozen or so?" he joked.
"It's running about eighty-five percent. But we have a lot of new people. I expect after they are here awhile and see a few Assemblies they'll want a vote. It would be very frustrating to watch and not have a say. It's not like it is that much money. It costs more to join this social club than last year's taxes ran."
"What about defense? Spaceships have to be really expensive. I heard about you folks telling the Earth countries that they can't send any armed ships past L1. North America spends Billions every year on space defense. If you think you can dictate those kind of rules you must have some way to enforce it."
"We have a militia. It's like a volunteer fire department small towns have in North America. Last year we were shot at by a North American satellite. That's why we moved out here past lunar orbit. The commercial shuttles that happened to be positioned best and free to act went to the sat that shot at us and heated it up until the fellow inside surrendered. He was interrogated and returned to ISSII. There were two identical satellites with rail guns, so two other militia vessels went and destroyed them."
"Your private ships carry weapons?" Amos looked incredulous.
"Last I heard there were two or three Home vessels unarmed. That's their business. As far as I'm concerned, that's no way to travel. None of our ships are unarmed."
"Who is this 'our'? You're not talking about Home there, are you?"
"You saw Jeff Singh and Heather Anderson who were on the shuttle with me. We have some businesses in common and we operate a number of vessels that technically Eddie Persico owns, but we control and own the tech that they carry and speak somewhat to what they'll do. We have an Earth landing shuttle now that we own entirely ourselves. We came back up with you on a commercial shuttle, because we'd been on vacation, but we took our own shuttle down earlier. A commercial lift was cheaper than dropping our own shuttle with no load planned."
Amos looked a bit shocked, like that was all he could absorb, so April asked if he wanted to see a menu yet or wait a bit?
"I'm hungry already. Let's take a look at it." That was believable because he'd been hitting the appetizers hard while they talked and his drink was mostly gone.
The specials were Chesapeake soft shell crab with new potatoes and braised lamb shank with ratatouille. "What do you like here?" Amos asked.
"I've had the grilled prawns and the shish kabob. We don't have a grill in our apartment so I like char-grilled things. It takes so much air cleaning machinery it's not worth the trouble in a private residence. I've had the Cobb salad and the cheeseburger, but I'm spoiled by a place I go to on ISSII that does a better burger and garlic fries. The oyster poor boy is OK, but I decided it's not my thing. I'd rather just have the fried oysters without the bun and sweet potato fries. My grandpa always gets the seafood chowder, the red kind, so he'd recommend it."
"The lobster is excellent," Gunny spoke past her. "You won't get any better fresh off the boat in Maine."
"They're pretty versatile. If you can tell from the menu that they probably have the ingredients you can ask for something," April suggested.
Amos decided to do that and ordered the fettuccini Alfredo, but asked the meat from a lobster be added to it. He waved the wine list away and told the server to give him something white and dry, that he wasn't too picky. Gunny got the braised lamb and April went with plain old spaghetti and meatballs. Her grandfather showed up just in time to order his usual, Manhattan seafood chowder and a bread basket. He also just beat the lights starting to dim for the show. The aloha shirt he was wearing needed the dimmer lighting.
The small band went through one set before they took a break. When they stopped Ruby and her husband came in and took a table between them and the stage.
"Ah, there is my friend," April said. "I knew she was supposed to play tonight, but I was starting to wonder if they'd cancelled." Ruby was dressed simply in black pants and a white blouse. Her husband Easy was dressed in black pants, black boots and a black silk shirt, with a cape over it all.
"I can't remember the last time I've seen a cape, off of a stage set," Amos said.
"I gave that to his wife to give to him," April remembered. "I'd kind of forgotten about it. It must be over two years ago. I gave out about half a dozen of them and I have a few in my storage still, but forgot about them. I should dig them out and finish giving them as gifts. I have to admit he looks really good in a cape. When he moves around and you see the scarlet lining flash it's nice."
"How odd. What prompted this sudden love of period clothing?"
"We were still under USNA law and I wanted to start carrying a laser," she said, hand going to the Singh laser she wore cross draw. "It was illegal to carry guns then, nobody did it, at least not openly. The law didn't really address lasers, but I knew people would object. So I wanted to make it common to see capes so you could hide a hand weapon and nobody would suspect that was why you wore a cape. But then we had the war and before very long everybody was packing all sorts of pistols and knives and even long guns. Now nobody blinks at them."
"What sort of act will your friend do?"
"She used to be a college professor, an expert on Medieval Music and she plays harpsichord, so she'll probably do keyboard."
"Does she teach here?"
"No, she cooks in the cafeteria," April said, matter-of-fact. Amos just blinked. Twice.
April caught Ruby's eye, to wave her over, but she made a 'wait' gesture. They got up then and went to the stage. Ruby sat at the keyboard and started flipping switches, reconfiguring it. The drummer and player for the cello joined them. The screen behind them dropped the environmental scene, split and displayed a bass player and another fellow, off site somewhere. The second fellow had a long wooden instrument she didn't recognize.
"Ah, a bassoon," Amos said, so she didn't have to ask.
The surprise was that Easy went on stage with her and stood, back to the audience and shoulders sort of hunched forward.
"I'm Ruby Dixon. This is my husband Washington Carter Dixon," Ruby said in her mike. "Most folks call him Easy. He'll do a dance interpretation of this first number. It's an old TV theme for The Adams Family show." The keyboard was in harpsichord mode as April suspected. It started in a modest little melody. Easy went upright on the first note and started a robotic sort of mechanical dance that turned him in an arch to face the audience. When the melody abruptly stopped the drummer struck twice across the edge of the drum, not the face, >CRACK< >CRACK<. Easy jerked like he was a puppet pulled on strings.
What made it funny was he got a really indignant expression at the disruption. When the music started again so did his dance, but then the pause and drum strike caught him again at an awkward moment and jerked him. The audience all laughed at the wordless comedy.
The music took a turn with the bass and cello and then the bassoon between drum strikes and finally all of them together. It didn't last all that long before the lights went down, the musicians on screen took a bow and they left the stage.
A word to the staff got their Hardoy chairs brought over to April's table and they sat down. Easy had his napkin from their table and patted his brow, a bit sweaty from the exertion of the dance. He swept the cape behind him to be cooler. April introduced Amos as another musician.
"The Ancient Astronauts," Ruby said right away. "I know your stuff. You have training in classical music. I could see it in your composition."
"Indeed, guilty as charged," Amos admitted. "I don't get outed very often though."
"Oh your song 'Sweeps' had to have Mozart spinning in his grave. You stole shamelessly from him. It may be at four times the tempo and on a guitar, but it's there."
The waiter came and took their order. Ruby insisted they'd take dinner at their table and just have drinks with April until it came. It would have been crowded.
"Is that all you are doing tonight?" Amos wondered.
"After the other boys do a couple more sets then I'll do a final number. That's all for Easy for the night. Why, do you have a request?"
Amos looked surprised. "Can you sight read that well? Would you read off a screen?"
Ruby made a face. "I can sight read, but unless you surprise me with something uncommon I have it up here," she said, pointing at her temple.
"Well," Amos said, stunned. "Perhaps the Brandenburg Concerto?" he challenged, looking dubious.
"Sure, but it's not much without a flute," Ruby said.
"This is true and a couple violins. Do you do piano too?"
"Yes, but not as well I'm told."
"Do you know Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue?"
"I can do that."
"If you can find a clarinet for me we can share it," Amos offered.
"I'll ask to borrow one. I'm pretty sure we can do that," Ruby said grinning.
They went off to their dinner being served and just in time as their own table was being served too. The spaghetti was good, but not as good as Heather's mom made.
"What are you smiling about gramps?"
"I was just thinking I'm more of an ancient astronaut than this young guy."
"You don't look old enough to be April's grandpa. You look more likely to be her father to me," Amos said.
"Life Extension Therapy," he explained. "I'll never see seventy again. I had a head of gray hair, going white and it all came back in like you see," he said, running his hand over it. "The wrinkles have been easing away and I just feel better."
"I could afford it, but it would probably end my career and break up our band if I bought it. I'd be denounced by all the preachers and Malthusian fanatics. We could play in Europe, but we'd never be welcome in North America again. I just wouldn't feel safe."
April said nothing, but noted it wasn't just shunning he worried about, but actual safety.
"Shame on you if you don't die on time. Those Malthusians should off themselves to make up for selfish folks like me who live too long. If you look around when you're walking the corridors here, you'll see I'm one of the last who are getting treatments. There are maybe a dozen people on Home who look really old and in five years I wouldn't be surprised if there are none."
Amos didn't seem to be listening. He was staring, his mouth a little 'O' of surprise. He broke out of the spell and looked at April really oddly. "That Lady..." He didn't point but he looked and tipped his head a little. "Am I hallucinating, or is that President Wiggen?"
April looked and indeed it was ex-President Wiggen of the USNA. She was sitting with Ben Patsitsas the mystery writer. They were of a similar age and both unmarried, how interesting. As she watched Wiggen laughed at something and laid her hand over Ben's arm on the table. What a wealth of information in such a little gesture.
"Yes, that's Wiggen," April agreed. "She made it to Home just ahead of the Patriot Party coup. She barely made it, our shuttle came so close to being shot down, if the pilot hadn't been a crazy man at the controls they'd have never made the pickup."
"Our shuttle, you're talking about your own personal ship again? You seem to always be in the middle of things."
"I was happy not to be in the middle of that. I've had enough people shooting at me. Wiggen is a citizen now, she's a nice lady and very smart. It looks like she has something going with Ben Patsitsas. Maybe he can write a book about it."
"He doesn't look like he's angling for a book contract to me," Amos scoffed.
They were leaning over heads close together speaking quietly and looking very happy.
"I think you're right," April said smiling. "Good for her!"
"Good for him too," Amos decided.
"Ruby is calling you over," Gunny pointed out to Amos.
"Ah, I guess this is my chance to make a fool of myself," he said getting up.
They talked a little on stage, laughing and smiling. Then Ruby spoke in the mic. "This is Amos of The Ancient Astronauts," that got a few hoots and whistles. "Their music is a little more contemporary, but we're going to do a classic Gershwin piece, Rhapsody in Blue."
Amos did a wailing intro, maybe fifteen seconds long and then Ruby came in pounding on the piano like a thunderstorm breaking. They did short solos a few places with no more than a nod for a cue. When they got through they got the best response of all. The audience was too stunned to do anything at all for a bit. Then they all stood and made a lot of noise for such a small crowd.
"I think they liked it," he said grinning when he got back to his seat.
"I saw Easy recording it. If you want a copy ask him for the file," April suggested.
"That I will. I'll send a copy down to the guys, to show them I can still play cold. Hey, can I get one of those Mimosas again?" he asked the waiter.
It was a very good night.
Chapter 8
"Take this to Amos, singer and lead guitarist for the Ancient Astronauts, at the Holiday Inn. I have no last name." April instructed the courier, early the next morning. In the box was a chocolate brown cape with a lining of gold Moiré silk. She figured he'd be amused by such a gift.
April went to breakfast alone, Gunny sleeping in. All done, she needed to go home and study for her Japanese class and continue with economics for the Bank. She didn't feel like it. Instead she got another mug of coffee and looked at the Earth news.
Police in New Bern North Carolina ripped a woman's front yard landscaping out with a USDA action team because she had colorful decorative cabbages. They did so because she didn't have the required commercial agriculture license. As the police chief told reporters, "A cabbage is a cabbage."
Demonstrators in New York City blocked Wall Street and disrupted commuters protesting the importation of New Zealand wool. "How many sheep have to be slaughtered to get enough wool for a winter coat?" one sign carrier asked the TV news crew.
"Dare to be Great motivational speaker registers for tax exempt religious status," said another headline. "Jesus dared," he responded to traditional religious spokesmen.
The State of Idaho announced agricultural security zones. Designated tracts to be blocked and gated to public access and not be entered or crossed for recreational purposes. Resident farmers, employees and emergency services will be issued gate control cards. FAA restrictions for air traffic below three thousand meters are immediately effective.
The Federal Forest Service determined that native plants are not exempt from Guerrilla Gardening restrictions, if there is a pattern of illicit harvesting. A list of eradication and suppression targets for native plants not on the endangered list will be issued annually, depending on what species are seized from illegal harvesters. Morel mushrooms and watercress are the first items on the list for the states of Michigan and Wisconsin.
The city of Brimfield Ohio passed an ordinance prohibiting adults from wearing any dark blue shirt or blouse which might be reasonably mistaken as part of a police uniform.
A cache of ammunition with lead core bullets was discovered in the basement of a home in the 1700 block of Morse St. in Gary IN. The discovery was made by new owners after the home was sold as part of an estate. Environmental suited personnel of several agencies were seen removing the material in sealed containers after the neighborhood was evacuated. Heavy metal testing will be done on the building and soil to determine if the structure is safe for human habitation or will have to be bagged and demolished.
California prohibited the importation of eggs from Canada packaged in units of twelve eggs instead of ten as mandated by California regulations. Head consumer watchdog for the state William Reilley said sales in quantities divisible by both even and odd numbers confuses buyers making price comparisons. When told that ten was divisible by five, Reilley asked: "What does that have to do with it?"
French fashion house announces ad campaign which challenges: "Chanel your inner girl."
A British girl enrolled in fifth grade at Hillary Rodham Clinton elementary school in Wheeling W.V. was arrested for refusing to recite Pledge of Allegiance. Cops cuffed her and jailed her after she said: "God save the King." Her father says they will return to Wales.
The city of Prescott AZ ruled artificial grass does not meet their zoning ordinances. The defendant in the case removed the RealGrass ® and installed sod. City officials say they will be watching closely that he does not violate watering prohibitions which are in their fifth year.
How was anyone supposed to interpret any of this to know how to deal with them? What could one reasonably conclude about their probable reaction to anything you'd do? Maybe Gunny could help her.
Her com pinged her and the message from Amos was: "Thanks."
She replied: "You're welcome."
Jeff called her on com all excited. He didn't drop a text, wanting to actually talk with video on, which was unusual for him. She closed the news window to talk to him.
"April, I've been working with some of Heather's people at Central. They've been trying to find a way to make longer Bucky tubes. They tried making bacteria to grow them internally with no success, they tried to make them link with each other in various solutions, they tried to make nano manipulators to stick the ends together, all sorts of things to no avail."
"I take it something worked?"
"Yes! We made a membrane with dimples and orifices at the bottom of each dimple. The hole is just the right size for a Bucky tube to poke through. You put an insulating liquid full of short pieces of Bucky on one side of the film and make sure the molecules of the fluid are too big to get stuck in the holes. If you agitate the fluid and vibrate the membrane with an ultrasonic transducer, the short pieces of Bucky lodge in one of the holes and other sections line up and link. The neat part is if you keep putting them under tension the occasional defects at the weld migrate and self heal. It extrudes a perfect Bucky tube out the other side of the film indefinitely long as long as you keep adding feed stock and power it. Isn't that great? You can even grow different diameter tubes if you presort the fragments for feed stock and use different size orifices."
"So how are you going to use them?"
"We'll be able to make conductors, not just add tubes to metal for mechanical properties, but make wires and cables of pure carbon. We'll have super high strength composites and cheap! I'll be able to make that beanstalk much sooner than I hoped."
"Can you make tubes of concentric Bucky?" April asked him.
"Yes, they form that way easily. Why?"
"I don't know for sure. I figured tubes in tubes would be stiffer. The nested tubes might link side to side internally. Or you might be able to stuff a bigger tube with something besides carbon and a bigger tube you might be able to have holes in the side at intervals. I bet you might be able to put platinum in there inside a tube with a hole by it and it would be a catalyst for a long time before it got poisoned with pollutants and stopped working. I wonder if you could make Bucky hoops? With all the possible different shapes, something has to have weird properties and be useful."
"Let me think on that. I'll run it past the Central people and see if anybody has ideas."
"Thanks Jeff. Congratulations on your break through."
He disconnected, still grinning.
April considered a third cup of coffee. For some reason she just didn't want to go home. She looked up at the coffee urns and there was a couple filling their cups who caught her eye. Even with their backs turned they looked familiar. The way the woman held herself...But the hair was wrong. When they turned she was sure and amused. It was the Alphonses and they were disguised, but did they really think they could fool her? April waved them over to join her.
They had been to Home before to get Life Extension Therapy and met April briefly. She had even taken them to dinner. But there had been stories in the news to indicate they'd let the retro virus get away from them when they returned home and infected both Spanish royalty and prominent churchmen. Something Earthies viewed as biological terrorism. They were wanted, in the criminal sense.
"James, Elena, I'm happy to see you. Why didn't you tell me you were coming up? I'd have made sure to set aside some time and been ready to entertain you."
James looked funny with the moustache. It made him look silly as far as April was concerned and his hair was cut differently. Elena was stunning no matter what her hair color. They approached her table, Elena with a neutral expression and James with a curious look. Close up it was obvious to her trained eye both were enjoying LET and it showed in their skin first, with even the minor wrinkles people got in their thirties disappearing.
"I'm sorry, I'm certain we have not met. Might I ask your name?" James inquired. He still had that formal, educated air about him.
"Oh...You're incognito. I can understand that. Ok we'll play it that way. Join me if you wish. I'm April Lewis. Welcome to Home. What are your names and are you still, uh, I mean, are you Spanish? Or where are you from, lately?"
Elena lifted an eyebrow, but took the invitation to sit with her. And James followed her lead. "Indeed we once lived in Spain. It was lovely. But we're from Italy most recently. I'm Helen, from Portugal and my husband Jesse was born in Monaco. We came over from ISSII two days ago. I think I've seen you on the news services, but I doubt you've seen anything about us. We're rather unremarkable. Jess is an actuary and I've been working with various PR and fund raising teams. We live a fairly quiet life. What do you do Miss Lewis?"
"Oh, you know, the usual things, piracy, international banking, club owner, shuttle pilot and I have an interest in a little greeting card and printing company. I have some partners. I've been neglecting my interests a few weeks though as I went with some friends for a Pacific holiday."
"That sounds interesting. I've had occasion to make use of a printer now and then myself. Though I hadn't expected Home to be a hotbed of the graphic arts."
"You'd be surprised at the breadth of business we are sustaining. Do you mean to stay on Home for awhile, or you just playing the tourist for a few days?"
"If we like the atmosphere and determine there is employment for us, we might very well stay indefinitely. Some of the things in the news recommended Home to us. The low taxation, the personal freedom and the assertion it is a place of opportunity. There isn't any place on Earth I'd nominate for those qualities without reserve."
"No, when we went to the Pacific on vacation we went to an uninhabited atoll where we could enjoy the sea and the sun. A day on Tonga was plenty of rubbing elbows with humanity. I have no desire at all to visit somewhere like New York or Paris. They encompass the Earth we usually refer to as the slum ball."
"A harsh assessment, but one I wouldn't challenge," Helen agreed.
"Have you started a job search then?"
"We were allowing ourselves a day or two to acclimate, but we've stood and examined the job postings in the window of the employment agency just down the corridor. There seems to be no shortage of unfilled positions. Of course a lot of them are rather technical and we won't have the skills for those."
"You might even consider starting something of your own," April suggested. "Your moving about suggests you are multi-lingual, you might do translation, or open your own PR firm, or even open a travel agency. You would have the experience to advise spacers what the proper season and place is to fulfill their yearning for open skies and not pick a time when it will be the monsoon season instead of sunshine. Spacers can be unaware of those things."
"Thank you for the suggestions. We may work a time at something more mundane until we are settled. I'd be happy with a secretarial position. Jess has done other things. He worked as a waiter when he was going through college. I have been told there isn't as much of a social taint to lesser positions here, so we could easily look to improve ourselves later."
That made sense to keep a low profile for awhile if they were fugitives, April decided.
Jess was too busy attacking his breakfast to comment much. April remembered he'd been quieter before too. And possibly not as bright as Helena, er, Helen. But she might have to reassess that. "I have an interest in a private social club that has a very good clientele," she directed to Jess. I'd ask the manager to interview you if you decide you'd like to do that for awhile.
"I'd like that. Especially if the customers are of a quality it would be good to know."
"Those are usually the good tippers too," April quipped.
"That's what I meant," he agreed, grinning. "But the best tips might not be cash."
OK, she really shouldn't underestimate him. "It was nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll see you again. Home is like a small town. If there's anything I can do for you I'm in the public directory. What did you say your last name was?"
"We didn't, but we're the Duvals Miss Lewis. Thank you for your kindness."
April put her things on her tray and left the Duvals there. Gunny had been wondering about them. He'd be very interested to hear they'd shown up again on Home. Not that it was a surprise. This was where their LET doctor practiced and they are the sort of people attracted to Home.
* * *
At Central, on the moon, Heather held court in a new conference room a kilometer below the surface. Eventually they'd be much deeper and this cubic would be given over to other uses, but for right now it was much better than the moon hut they'd plowed under a layer of regolith for protection when she'd first landed.
She was being informed about the Bucky tube tech and several other advances Jeff had not heard about yet. She didn't have an interest in the family firm who owned the technology, but her subjects were committed to keeping her informed since their business created both problems and opportunities for her as their sovereign.
This required trust that she would not impede their business efforts with needless regulation, since she could do so by decree, nor declare things secret as a matter of state security. Something too many of them had experienced with other governments.
She'd balked at having a highway fused from Central to Armstrong, needing to be convinced by her subjects that the advantages outweighed the dangers. The previous administration at Armstrong had chased her real estate customers across the moon in rovers, intent on arresting them and making them return. She'd destroyed that force to protect them.
It was ironic that they were more willing to trust the new Armstrong officials than she was. It seemed too convenient a road that they could use for a new invasion, but her people wanted a cheaper way to commute there for employment than a shuttle and wanted the business from Armstrong citizens coming to Central. Armstrong lacked a lot of amenities they had already.
The first failure of that policy was standing before her as the last piece of business for the day. The fellow was a USNA citizen from Armstrong and had wrecked his truck off the new roadway and pretty well destroyed it, because he was driving drunk. The truck had crossed from Armstrong on automatic well enough, but when he switched to manual control to get off on local streets he'd crashed.
The good thing was he hadn't hurt any of her subjects and hadn't damaged anything local beyond disturbing the regolith and making the local rescue squad go cut him out of the wreck. The boulder that had stopped his travel had been neither damaged nor moved.
"What do you think We should do with you?" she asked the now sober trucker.
"Send me back to Armstrong on the work bus. I'm going to have enough trouble on that end from the guy who hired me to drive his truck to Central."
"If you'd killed one of my subjects, I'd have had you tossed out the airlock without benefit of a p-suit. However, I don't wish to start criminalizing behavior based on its potential to cause harm. That road leads to all sorts of repressive regulation. I think my mother, who has years more experience with people and no small measure of wisdom, informed me correctly."
"Her advice some years ago to me, was that a drunk is rarely reformed. So I have no harm with which to charge you, yet I find you a danger and don't want to wait for you to prove me correct, at the expense of some innocent person."
"So, I do not wish to issue a blanket law about dangerous behavior, but it is my decision that you are an undesirable person, of poor judgment, possibly impaired if your condition is chronic instead of a unique episode. I'm going to allow you to get on the work bus tomorrow morning and return to Armstrong, but I reserve the right to judge other such cases upon their merits.
"You are however banned from entering Central again for any reason. You are declared outlaw, literally outside my law. If any person acts against you I will offer you no protection of my law. Robbing you or killing you will receive no censure. I'd consider carefully if you want to rely on the kindness of every member of the community and be sure none will judge you a hazard that may be removed without personal price."
"Do you have anything to say? This doesn't mean you can appeal in any way. But you can make any expression you wish and I won't harm you for it."
"No ma'am. I don't remember crashing. I was drinking and I'll own I have a problem. I won't be back here. I got that message clear enough."
"Mr. Hesston? I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but I'd point out something to you. You intend not to come back here, now, while you are sober. But just as you don't remember your truck crash, you may forget not to come here if you are drunk. The thing to remember is this. The time to remember is when that first drink is in your hand. When you are sober and have no excuse. Because if you show up again I won't give you a free pass because you can't remember."
"Yes ma'am. The point is well taken."
"Very well, you are free, but we have no hotel yet. You will be returned to the room that served as your cell while you sobered up, but you will not be locked in it. If you are not to be found and miss the bus, my decree still takes effect. Good night Mr. Hesston."
He nodded and followed the fellow who beckoned to him.
"Advise me," Heather asked Dakota. "How do you find my justice?"
"I found it restrained, which I'm glad of, since I might stand before you some day. But I find it disturbing you said you'd order him spaced if he had killed someone."
"Are you opposed to capital punishment?"
"No, but I think it would be a bad idea to order any of your subjects, or even a team of them, to be an executioner. You might very well lose a subject to depression and suicide if it's against their nature."
"I can see that. So, should I call for volunteers, or do the deed myself?"
"If I may suggest, this is one of those things that needs the formality of some uh, pomp and symbolism. You should have some forms. Lay a pistol on the table in front of you – public notice it's a court of life and death. I'm not saying to have robes or anything, but you should be dressed somewhat formally, not in a p-suit or coveralls."
"We need something, I'm not sure what, to say it's a courtroom. Not necessarily like an Earth courtroom with a high bench, but something. Different than when you are just in conference to decide mundane matters. If you ask for volunteers or shoot them dead on the spot matters little to me. I can hope it is a rare event or never happens. If it does, it should be a notorious crime that offends public sensibilities."
"I don't intent to be a court for every little matter. If we get enough people that they start wanting to argue contracts and civil matters I'm going to start some sort of lower court and I'll limit myself to hearing appeals, if it seems warranted and criminal cases."
"How about a chair, not a throne, but just a decent chair, with a table in front of you that can hold the pistol and maybe evidence if someone wants to display it?" Dakota asked.
"And a small carpet in front of the table, a square one, that is where you must stand to address the court," Heather decided. "And a bench on each side, a simple bench with no back for the advisors and witnesses."
"That's a good idea. Don't make them too comfortable and invite them to drag a matter out all day long. A hard bench too, no cushions," Dakota agreed.
"I don't want this to look like a cafeteria or a business office. I'm going to spend the money to have wooden furniture brought in. It doesn't have to be massive, but nothing wooden is going to look cheap on the moon. I'll have some sketches made and see which looks good. Thank you for your advice."
Chapter 9
April had an auto notice on com. Her bid of fifteen thousand EuroMarks for the fashion drawing was topped. She thought about it a little. Was it worth that much to her? It wasn't any substantial portion of her funds. Money was coming in at a reasonable rate. If people were this willing to bid on this artist's work, how much would it be worth in the future? That thought kicked her over the edge. She typed in twenty-five thousand and hit enter.
* * *
"Chen, Miss Lewis has been studying economics and trying to make sense of the situation on Earth," Jeff explained. "She is interested in data mainly as it affects our bank. You are undoubtedly aware that official economic data has been corrupted so thoroughly it is pretty useless. She is asking that my agents keep an eye out for street level economic information that is not corrupted. I'm not asking you make a special effort to gather it, but in the course of other investigations you may see things revealed you'd otherwise filter out of your report. We'd rather you report such economic data separately now. Who knows? I may see things there that foreshadow unrest and regime change before overt political action."
Chen was a previous Chinese intelligence agent, who'd pulled his family out of Beijing when Jeff was in a standoff with China over a theft of his ship. He'd bombed their main spaceport out of existence to prevent them from disassembling and reverse engineering the vessel. For several days war hung in the balance and Beijing came close to being a smoking crater before their military took control and defused the situation.
Getting his family out of the target zone had been seen as an act of disloyalty and the fact they killed a military policeman who tried to remove them from their train made doubly sure they weren't going back. He fled to Home when his service hunted them on earth and besides other security work, he was under a Solar a quarter retainer to Jeff to gather intelligence.
"I have some information that is not entirely stale. It is a rather accurate picture of last year's corn harvest in North America and estimates of this year's planting of both maize and soy beans. All classified. I've sold it several times, but it's getting a bit old to peddle now that the new crop is in the ground. I'll forward that to you and if the source is still good, get fresh data, since I know other markets for it."
Chen looked thoughtful. "I'll have my wife write a report about how she coped with rationing and black markets in China. Even with preferential treatment and me having a decent pay schedule she had a hard time making ends meet. Certain things like clothing she often complained about to me. She remarked often that she didn't see how a bus driver or store clerk survived when we had twice as much at our disposal, even though we have children."
* * *
Papa-san gave April a quick heads up that their move looked firm, so they should be out of her cubic in two days. She knew where they were going, to the new ring that was visible from her windows, where they were right now. She wondered where Chen and his wife and two children were moving. For some reason they had never revealed that they were sub-letting from the Santos. She certainly didn't care if they had twenty people crammed in the cubic together. It didn't cost her any more or less. She gave her remodeler a heads up too.
The thought even occurred to inquire if they had somewhere to go, but it smacked of showing off that she knew their business and she really had no obligation to Chen. His contract and relationship was with the Santos. If they needed help finding a place to stay then let Papa-san help them. She suspected he had funds and assets of other sorts equal to hers.
Besides, she was tired of imposing indefinitely on her mother's kindness when she owned cubic and could move out. Her mom hadn't rushed them, but she also made clear she had plans to remodel and sort out the cubic in a new floor plan. Something she'd been waiting to do from before her brother had died. Her mom was holding classes in her home and probably had plans to make that more convenient too.
She'd planned to set off an area for Gunny to stay with her by putting a curtain on a ceiling track around it. But the more she considered it she wanted an actual room. She'd do it with floor to ceiling panels, that could be removed and stored, or set back up in a day. The bath would be a double, with a shared shower between and interlock doors that made it a first come first served. If she took the extra room down, the bath would be available to dinner guests or company without sending them through April's bedroom. Sometimes she liked her privacy.
Gunny had suggested they go in together on a home warming gift for the Santos. She had never heard of such a thing. Buying cubic instead of renting was such a rare thing on Home there hadn't been any custom established about the matter, but when she looked it up on the net she found it was a long standing custom on Earth over a number of cultures. She didn't want to dismiss good ideas as Earth Think automatically. It seemed a pleasant custom and had none of the religious conflicts of other holidays that had led the USNA government to ban them or keep them strictly private.
That only left the question of what was a suitable gift. She couldn't spend too much or it would impose a burden on Gunny to match her and she didn't want to buy something like art they would feel obligated to display even if they secretly loathed it.
Probably the safest thing would be to give something that got used up, so it wouldn't be stored away and trotted out whenever she or Gunny came to visit. Maybe a subscription to some sort of gourmet food dealer? The sort who shipped fruit or nuts or specialty items like maple syrup or honey? The better ones had cookies, candy and things like cured sausages or prosciutto. She'd run that past Heather and see if she had any better ideas.
Her stomach was telling her it was time for lunch. When she suggested that to Gunny he was happy to get out a bit, he'd been staring at his screen way too long.
* * *
"Hello Wanda, How about a BLT today, some potato salad and a couple dill pickles on the side?" April asked. Gunny said, "Make it two." Which he did surprisingly often.
Matt Wilson was eating alone. She didn't have to invite him, he picked up his tray and asked if he could join them.
"Where are your kids?" April wondered.
"As a matter of fact they are with your mother." It seemed to amuse him.
"I'm surprised you dove right in and obligated yourself to pay for schooling before you write some more books and get a cash flow coming in."
"I've been sandbagging a bit. I had three books published that did well, but since I saw that I would never see the rewards of publishing new ones I've been writing like crazy but not releasing any of the material. I write fairly fast. I have three more books done and two well along. Also I sold off rights to half the income from another book under a pen name. And the income from that has been accumulating in a Tongan account, since I knew we'd be lifting from there. I believe we'll be OK and sales should kick in before I run out of funds."
"If it's a close thing come and see me," April offered. "I would buy in on a book and give you an advance on it and for much less than half. That's usurious."
"It still beat what the court would have taken," he said, shrugging. "But it's nice to know as a backup. That's pretty brave of you when you haven't read anything of mine. Or have you?"
"No, but it doesn't matter. I went to a Dim Sum restaurant in Honolulu and it wasn't my thing. But I'd invest in it if invited in a heart-beat, because it was packed out and people were lined up for the busy dinner hour when we came out. You said your first three did well, so there's a market, whether I might like them or not."
He nodded, surprised. "Some people invest in their passions, I think your way is better."
"I've been trading my own account since I was twelve. Of course it had to be in my dad's name then, but he let us manage it, my brother and I both. The best way to learn something is to do it, but my brother got into all sorts of calls and puts and straddles and things I never wanted to take the time to understand and follow. I just held stuff long and sold it when I thought it was a decent move, or hopeless to recover. I made a little money but no big killing."
"Did your brother do better then, with his passion for complex deals?"
"I don't really know. As he got older Bob became secretive. He might give me a tip to buy something, or he might not. At the end he had more money than I thought likely, but I only knew because I was his heir. Where it came from is a very good question. His brokerage account didn't have that much in it when I got it. I doubt I'll ever know where some of it was from." She didn't intend to tell him some might have been dirty money from the USNA.
"So, do you think I should set my children up with small accounts and let them experiment and learn to trade?"
"Oh no. They'd never appreciate what they are risking if you just give them funds to invest."
"Then how did you fund your accounts?"
"My brother and I used to run errands, call it courier service. We would run to the cafeteria and get a lunch pack for somebody who was busy working and didn't want to break for lunch, or go to dock and pick up a UPS package or to housekeeping and get sani-wipes or masks or gloves for somebody who couldn't wait for the regular delivery. Sometimes people were sick and didn't want to go out. I ran to a dispenser and got footies for people a few times. We ran and got handballs for the fellow who runs the courts a few times. Because he can't come down to full G. Little errands and jobs like that."
"We saved our money up and then invested it locally. My brother used to buy the tourist's dirty laundry. It was worth more dirty and used here than they'd paid for it new down below. He'd get the down leg shipping credits for the luggage and sell them too. One time he grew mushrooms to sell, but that didn't work out so well. But most of his ventures made something and we saved it until we had enough to invest in stocks. You invest it a whole lot differently if you earned it yourself, ten and twenty dollars at a time."
"But it's illegal to hire underage and you have to have business licenses and tax numbers."
"We have none of that and even before the revolution, we pretty much ignored any of those stupid regulations that didn't make sense to us up here. Nobody was enforcing them, certainly not station security, which was Mitsubishi company staff. My mom and dad left us alone in our home lots of times before we were eighteen. We were taught how stuff worked and neither one of us were stupid. We weren't going to bust anything or make a mess, much less start a fire or breech pressure."
"There's reasons for those laws. There are people who aren't mature enough to do the things you are saying and get in trouble. By eighteen, or twenty-four for some things, like alcohol, most people seem to be ready."
"Why not wait until thirty? Or forty? Even the really slow ones should be ready by then. You are disturbingly quick to defend the same statists who tried to take two thirds of everything you'd earn the rest of your life. If you only want to keep your money, but embrace all the other fascist crap you may not fit in here. Because if you start advocating micromanaging other people's lives here they are going to ship you back down to the slum ball."
"It's hard to accept that much change," he admitted. "I've been told every day since I was little that these things are for our own good. It's been tough to reject any of it. Cut me a little slack. It's difficult to change everything I'm used to all at once."
"I can understand that, talking to you privately, but if you get up in the Assembly and start proposing Earth style licensing and regulation and laws about curfews and what you can wear... Well, you'll have a half dozen people invite you to meet them in the North Hub at 0600 hours and defend your position, or buy a shuttle ticket home."
He nodded, looking pained. "I'll keep my mouth shut in public, for a good long while, until I see how things are done. I've kind of burned my bridges. If I had to go back to Earth now I might as well just let a duelist shoot me in the head." He stopped and thought awhile and April didn't add anything.
"You said you guys ignored stupid laws that didn't make any sense. We actually do that a lot down below. Maybe more than you realize. You said you wanted me to explain about how the underground economy works. I actually have been thinking about how to do that. It's so pervasive it's difficult to estimate how big it is, even using it. I only saw the little parts of it I touched."
"The main thing to remember is, it depends on trust. You don't do business completely off the books with someone you don't know. The government has all kinds of informants and you don't buy or sell from someone even on a recommendation. You need to know who a person is and who he's related to and what he does for a living. If you get greedy or careless you end up in prison. But there are lots of ways to shave price and get discounts too."
"So what kind of stuff did you buy that way? Was it to get things cheaper, or to buy things you couldn't at any price elsewhere?
"Cheese is a good example. The rules on how cheese is made now makes it pretty tasteless to anybody who has known the real thing. There are people who smuggle European cheeses in, that's really expensive and there are folks with a dairy farm who manage to divert some of their production and make cheese, usually in a relative's home. The Feds watch farm owners too closely to risk doing it in their own home. But you practically have to be known to them from birth to buy from them. Even then they may take your money and direct you to a 'drop' where your product will be waiting for you. There are lots of things like that you can't sell anywhere legally. Raw honey, garden seeds, kittens or puppies, fish people have caught, old coins with gold or silver or copper in them. Old books that tell how to made chemicals or explosives from scratch, books on gunsmithing or how to make moonshine. Anything that is illegal to do now, it is illegal to propagate the information how to do it. Then there is doing deals on legal products."
"For example, there is an art to asking for a cash purchase discount. You couldn't just come straight out and ask, "How much for cash?" Because that's the same as saying they will cheat on their taxes in court now. There is a presumption of guilt. But say you stopped at a hotel for the night, instead of offering a credit card, if the advertised price was four hundred dollars, you'd lay down four hundred dollar bills in a row on the front desk. If they'd play that way they would pick up three of them and just ignore the one. Of course sometimes they would scoop up all of them and there was nothing you could say, but you wouldn't go back there again either."
"If you are buying something that the government is controlling size and price because it has wheat flour in it, like bagels, the baker may sell a dozen and count them off and them say "Baker's dozen," but throw in two or three instead of the one extra. He'll show some of his production as spoiled, or burnt, or unsold."
"Of course it can work the other way. If you are buying something the merchant can't get enough of and the price is regulated, say cosmetics for women, he may lay down two lipsticks and say, "That's three for thirty four dollars." If you don't want to pay the surcharge you just change your mind."
"But doesn't his books show he sold more than he received?" April asked.
"No, he doesn't sell them there, he'll sell them black market or wholesale them to somebody for other black market goods. He may need prescription drugs, or parts to repair his home, whatever is needed and hard to get."
"You can't go in a store and buy a couple switches and wall receptacles now unless you show them you have pulled a permit from the city. So when a licensed electrician does a repair job he may inflate the goods from six switches to seven and a dozen wall outlets to fourteen. So he has parts to trade that don't need a permit pulled to do electrical work. That means maybe a three hundred dollar permit and a two hundred buck 'gratuity' to the inspector somebody saves."
"Gratuity? You mean a bribe?"
"What an ugly word to hear from the mouth of an innocent young girl. And when things get so expensive it means if somebody breaks in and burglarizes your home while you are on vacation they don't just take your electronics and appliances. They pull all the light switches and wall plugs, the lighting fixtures and the bulbs in them, your sinks and faucets. They may even rip your towel racks and toilet paper holder out. I remember hearing of one place the robbers took a man's bathtub out."
"Who wants a used toilet paper holder?" April protested, wrinkling her nose up.
"Somebody trying to build a house who doesn't have fifty bucks for a new one. There are even folks who rent an apartment that doesn't have individual alarms and they go off on vacation and sell the door code. Some old buildings it's just a three number code on a key-pad and allow the place to be stripped out while they can prove they were far away. Of course you can only do that once, or at least years apart, before it is obvious it's deliberate and you'll get black listed and never be able to rent a place again."
"Then there are services. If I'm going to drive to the next state and see relatives I'll start telling coworkers and friends well ahead of time. If somebody wants stuff taken that direction they can ask you to take it. Or even have a passenger ride along. You never pay for it. You find reason for the cash to trade hands for a legal reason. Having your hair cut, house cleaning, lawn mowing, bushes and flowers planted or trimmed. Even dental work. You trade favors or find a reason to gift the person with something else. Some small towns I doubt if they have a legal barber or a taxi paying all the proper licenses and fees."
"There is a lot of counterfeiting. It used to be people made fake designer clothing and expensive wrist watches. Now you can buy homemade shampoo and laundry soap. People divert bulk purchases at hotels and hospitals and things. They take a small bottle in and take a little each day and cut down what they put in each load for work. People don't throw away jars and bottles and cardboard or foam board boxes. There's too much use for everything and if you can't use it somebody will give you a dime for four small boxes or a couple gallon jugs."
"I very rarely see a coin on Home," April said. "Our bank is making coins, but they are twenty five grams of gold or platinum, not steel or like a plastic Yuan. A dollar is pretty much our smallest unit of money. Just about anything is worth a buck if it's worth bothering with."
"People still trade for nickels and pennies, even though they aren't legal money anymore and were all supposed to be turned in and destroyed. Two pennies go for a dime. The reissued dimes and quarters are steel and the few fifty cent pieces and dollar coins were a flop and don't circulate. There are not enough dollar bills in circulation either and they get pretty raggedy. Nobody really wants to mess with dimes either, except kids for collecting jars and boxes and stuff like I mentioned. You can sell a big bag of packing peanuts or sheets of foam for a dime too."
"It all seems like a lot of trouble to go to," April observed.
"Well of course!" Matt said surprised and a little upset. "It takes time you'd rather be working or relaxing. It makes everything just a little harder. It makes life harder. I hate to think how much of a drag it is on the economy, because it's just so inefficient."
"But the really poor people do things for each other that people with more money, people they'd consider middle class, would charge to do. If you have some boxes or a bag with some old clothing you can write on it who it's to go to and ask somebody taking a bus across town that direction to carry it. It's a matter of honor not to steal something worth a few cents and it may take a week and go through six or seven hands, but it almost always gets to the person without being stolen, even in the city. But once it gets to the address where the person lives, you can't just leave it by his door. There are bums and homeless who would take it, because they didn't get it from somebody's hand and so they aren't known to be responsible for it.
"Sometimes you'll see a note posted on a utility pole or on an apartment bulletin board saying, "I have a bag for Greg Mason in Glen Oaks apartments, does anybody know where he went?" It may even end up following him to another city a year later, bit by bit."
His breakfast long finished, Matt excused himself. "I may think of other stuff, but does that help you understand how you manage down below?"
"A lot," April agreed. "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with that. I owe you some help here when you have questions."
"You already helped me some today. Told a little rougher than I wanted to hear maybe, but I needed it, thanks."
April nodded and watched him take his tray to empty. He'll probably do OK, she decided.
Chapter 10
Faye questioned Chen's son Deming about using an airlock. His answer was much better than a few weeks ago, but ungrammatical. Something that is a matter of life and death requires precision and clarity. It wasn't that he wouldn't speak well in a year or so, but it wasn't fast enough. That was even with him knowing some English phrases for travel and ordering in a restaurant when he came up.
"I think I understood what you meant, but if there was a hole in the bulkhead with air whistling out, it might not convey exactly what to do to a rattled person."
Deming nodded and scrunched his face up. "I'm not sure what to do different teacher. I believe my little sister is learning faster than me."
"That's to be expected. As you get older most people find languages more difficult to learn. I think we need to try something different. Who would you consider your friends in the class?"
Deming looked alarmed. "Teacher the fault is mine, not theirs. You do not denounce your friends, or you will never have any again."
"Deming, I am not a part of the state. I don't report people to anyone, except maybe your parents if I am unable to instruct you satisfactorily and I'll take the blame if it comes to that. What happens in my class when you do well in a subject?"
"You pile more on," he quoted, smiling.
"Exactly. I am considering setting you aside with those you find compatible and let them instruct you intensely in English. I think in the long run you will save time when you come back to your instruction improved. It will also be good for them to find out how difficult teaching something you already know can be."
"I think that good," Deming agreed. "The software I have been using, they look sour and correct me when I say a word from it. They inform me the program speaks like an Earthie and they do things different."
"Differently, Faye corrected. "I don't intend for them to circle you and do all the work. I'd like you to tell them the Chinese word and expression for what they have just told you. If they are not willing to learn, or unable, they can leave the group."
"No, if one has trouble we shall help them. If you don't guard the wheat on the edge of the field, the storm will take the whole field down from there." It had the sound of a slogan.
"Damned if that isn't the first political slogan I've heard that made any sense."
"It was an old farmer who told me that teacher."
"Ah, you've instructed me, thank you."
He nodded an acknowledgment, nervous. "What course of study shall we use?"
"Well if the software is crap, ditch it and you may keep a computer in common here and load whatever you want on your private pads. If you need paper pads or anything just tell me. And if you want to go off to anywhere safe on Home as a group just ask. I may send an escort, to protect you, not to supervise. Sit down and decide what you want to accomplish and how to do it. You might not all agree on every detail, but you are bright young people. I'm sure you can do this without my holding your hands."
Deming looked shocked. "I would like Barak and Martin and Jenifer, please, and of course my sister Mei."
"Go ask them. If any beg off and you can't think of anyone I can pick just one for you. Go on," she insisted, shooing him away.
* * *
There was a text message waiting on her com when April got up. "Miss Lewis, you've won the auction for the drawing displayed in Cindy and Frank's tailor shop window."
"I'll come by after breakfast." April sent back.
"She didn't even ask what the final bid was," Lindsey said.
"Honey, that's good," Cindy assured her.
* * *
"The guys here at Central were discussing the questions about Bucky tubes you threw out. They ended up going off on tangents and stayed up most of the night. One suggested that indeed coaxial Bucky might sort of hang up on each other like having detents in the side, if the spacing of the defects were consistent. It could be stronger lengthwise than the sum of the tubes separately. Another fellow wants to see if he can make Bucky rings and either link them like a chain, or in an interlinked mass like a molecular wool," Jeff said.
April took another bite of blueberry pancakes and considered Jeff's image on her com pad. He looked squinty eyed, like he'd been one of the all-nighters.
"If you can make a chain of Bucky rings it shouldn't be all that much harder to knit them together into a sheet, like chain-link armor. It might make an interesting filter," she guessed.
"Ah, Ho is going to smack himself in the forehead that he didn't think of that one. I'm make sure he lists you as a co-author if he can do it. In fact you deserve a mention for some of the others too," he promised.
"That would be nice, if they feel it is warranted. Is this something we are doing for our allies, or are we going to make some money from it too?"
"They are pretty tight on money, because most of this is being done under the table and some of the stuff is easier done in zero G. So I have a finger in all of it. The, uh, Bucky tube extruding membrane we actually have the majority interest. That alone is going to make us more money that anything else we've ever touched. The Earth market is huge for such things as bridge cables and electrical cables."
"Of course if I build a Lunar bean stalk it's going to require thousands of tons of the stuff. Not that we don't already have materials that could make a lunar beanstalk. But if we can make something that takes much less material it can happen faster and cheaper. If we own the company making it then nobody else can get ahead of us and build it first because they have cash in hand. I'll make sure it stays that way."
"You have some serious mega-projects. I wonder if even this income is going to cover our expenses? I've been spending some money on personal things again, stuff for my cubic. I'll try not to go totally wacko in case we need the money." April felt a twinge of guilt at buying art. It would look nice on the wall, but it wasn't a necessity.
"You'd have to splurge wildly, spending millions to do any damage. You can't live in a bare cave. Are you having buyer's remorse over that rug you got in Tonga?"
"Mat, or tapa, it's not really a rug. The Tongans even wrap up in the smaller ones, like a skirt. No, I think it's going to be worth far more than I paid in just a few years. I could excuse buying it to myself as an investment actually. I'm going after breakfast to get a drawing I bid on and I feel the same about it. The young woman doing them is going to be famous I think."
"Good, I don't want you to turn into an ascetic," he commanded. "When we tunnel down to the level where the stone is a shirt sleeves comfortable temperature here, we're going to be a lot fussier what shape and size tunnels and chambers we cut. It's a form of architecture, but we won't be able to change it much later. We'll try to have a little style and build something that isn't going to look quaint and old fashioned in a hundred years. I'm not going to begrudge a little cost overrun to achieve that."
"Are you going to do a Grand Audience Hall for Heather?"
"I have a few ideas, but don't start her thinking about it, or she'll want a court that looks like a cozy breakfast nook. I want something with some dignity. I'm thinking something like the inside of Westminster Abby."
Jeff looked tired, so April sent him off, maybe he'd show some sense and go to bed. "Love you and be sure to say I sent my love to Heather. I'm off to the tailor shop to meet the artist and pay for my drawing, so bye-bye."
"I'm to bed, after I write a note about the chain-mail thing, love you too Bunky," he said before he disconnected.
Bunky, huh? He'd been coining some strange terms of endearment lately. He must have gotten back into watching period movies. But when would he have the time?"
* * *
There was a customer being fitted up by an older woman, one of the few people April had seen lately who didn't appear to have any Life Extension Therapy. She hardly seemed feeble though, she was bending easily and her hands were nimble, tugging at fabric here and there, seeing how things draped or laid.
There was an equally elderly man at a broad table on the side and a young girl, likely April's age if she hadn't started LET, sipping a mug of something, sitting beside him. They looked too old for her to be a daughter, granddaughter maybe.
The girl stood up, but the man waved her over and indicated she should sit down and join them. The girl bent her knees like she might sit again and though better of it. "Can I get you a mug of tea or coffee?" she offered.
"Coffee is always welcome, just black."
The man was relaxed. Sitting with his own mug held in both hands, one thumb through the handle, like it was a comfort to warm them up. It might be. Signs of age were generally unattractive, but April looked at those hands, they reminded her of her Grandfather's hands. They were deeply wrinkled and spotted, the veins prominent. The knuckles a little knobby, nails thick and cut almost square across. They were hands that had done something. But LET was erasing the damage and history written on her gramp's hands. His manner made April realize how few people she saw were ever really at ease. The LET doctor, Jelly, Ben Patsitsas the author, Easy Dixon of course.
"You are Miss Lewis, I know you from seeing you on some web sites, I'm Lindsey Pennington," the girl said introducing herself, setting coffee in front of April.
April wondered if she was visiting news sites or gossip sites, but didn't want to get into all that and maybe alienate the girl before they got a decent start.
"Pennington? Does your dad work for Jeff Singh?" April wondered. "Mo?"
"Yes, on the moon. He's a mining engineer and is doing tunnels."
"I thought the name was familiar."
"This is Frank, he employs me here and that's his wife Cindy doing the fitting on those pants. They both have taught me a lot about tailoring and business."
"That's nice to let you use their window as a gallery."
"Oh, it has been to our mutual benefit," Frank assured her. "We have walk in traffic who want one 'just like in the window' and people who never stopped in before until the art in the window made them really look inside at what we do. Lindsey has been gifting us with the poster sized print, noting the display date and signing them. I think they will be of some value in a few years, although she still scoffs at that."
"Oh...Phooey. For some reason I assumed the print came along with the drawing, but that's not what the auction terms said is it? I had it all planned to put the original in my bedroom and the print in my dining area, where it would have an appropriate viewing distance. Is the print an exclusive arrangement? Or could I arrange to get another print made, maybe a different size if this size is a contract item?"
"We have no objection to Lindsey publishing prints, the same size or others. I've suggested to her that when she has a sufficient body of them accumulated, she should print a large format book of all the drawings in the original size."
"Would you sell me a similar print then, when it is convenient to produce it? Something on archival quality paper of course. I'd be interested in seeing any other work you have beside the fashion items."
"You've bid my drawing up to a very high price. I'll just have a copy run off for you like you expected. It's no real trouble."
"I'm used to paying for what I receive," April said firmly. "We're not friends to allow you to gift me extravagantly with valuable work. Name a number, dollars USNA or EuroMarks. I'm not poor to begrudge it and I hold your work in some regard."
"A thousand EM and I'll bet on you buying something else from my portfolio if you like this so well. Also a few minutes of your time to do a body scan, because I'd like to do a few designs for you, even if you never have any of them made."
"You mean the clothing in the drawings are not just your rendering, but your original design too?"
Lindsey nodded, shy to beat her own drum.
"Well sure, scan me. I figured they were Frank or Cindy's designs. I had no idea you were multi-talented. I'd be happy to see what you come up with."
"I intend to do some of Cindy's designs, it just seems I always have something in mind when I sit down to draw and never needed an idea. I've seen you online in very lovely formal wear. I haven't gotten near the point of being able to know how to structure a gown that will drape and fit like yours. But I do some really cute sports and casual stuff," she asserted.
"OK, deal," she agreed. "What do I owe you for the bid?" she said, ready to key in her pad.
"The near bid you covered was twenty-two thousand, four hundred and one EM, so add a EM to that and a thousand for the print."
"Twenty-Three, four-O-two, April said showing her the screen. If it looks right scan it," April invited. Looking a little shell-shocked, Lindsey did.
"Would you accept a commission?" April asked.
"Perhaps. If I think I can do it well. What would you like done?"
"I'd like a drawing of Frank's hands, wrapped around his coffee mug like he's doing right now. It should be at least life sized and the angle, color and anything else is up to you."
"I can do that. I'd enjoy doing it. In fact I wish I'd thought of it."
"How much?"
Lindsey looked at Frank, who smiled and refused to advise her.
"Exclusive? Or just the original and I can sell prints?"
"Exclusive. You can do other hands, even a different view of Frank's hands, but mine is unique and you won't make a close copy that is only technically different."
Lindsey took a deep breath. "Ten thousand EM," she quoted.
"See how easy that was?" Frank asked. "I didn't need to help you at all."
"But I'm counter offering eight thousand," April said with a wicked grin.
"I, uh, nine," Lindsey said firmly.
"Done." April agreed. They swiped ports again. "That pays for my print," April said, laughing at how earnest Lindsey was. "Another time I'd like to see some of your other work. Is that possible?"
"I have a portfolio. I'd rather show you somewhere else. Frank and Cindy are kind enough without me turning this into a sales room for my other stuff too," Lindsey objected.
"Meet me for breakfast then," April invited. "I always love an excuse for company at breakfast. I'm in the com registry. Drop me a text when you want to meet."
* * *
"You're crazy, we don't have enough trouble here, so you want to go where people despise us and find some real problems?" Frederic asked his previous supervisor. Jesse Silverson was technically his new supervisor too, it's just that before they had been happy as number one and number two executives, big frogs in the very small pond of Armstrong, on the moon. Now they were number one and number two of the three man air filter cleaning crew, for the French habitat affectionately known as the Turnip, due to its graceful lines. A significant reduction in stature. Three lesser underlings from Armstrong had gone to the French Lunar colony. They blamed the executives for involving them and were probably doing better without their help.
They were in exile from North America. It had seemed a good bargain before, to retain freedom and find a new home and career, rather than go back to North America to face a wrathful President whose orders they had admittedly ignored and worked against. Facing time in prison and eventually facing a second set of charges in the World Court, brought against them by a group of former Armstrong inhabitants now living at Central on the moon.
President Wiggen had kept their bargain and arranged for the French to give them refugee status. Why not? It seemed like accepting every dubious reject and person without a country was a French hobby. Wiggen had even sweetened the deal with a favorable trade agreement on French cheese that had been a long standing, if minor, point of contention. The six outcasts had even gotten supplements to their very low salaries and were given a lump sum to buy things to settle in their new homes.
Silverson honestly didn't think they had been tricked, or that the French had been encouraged to give them menial positions. His own big mouth had been sufficient to ruin their prospects. The young woman assigned as the liaison had been amused by his 'accent' and his admission he'd grown up at a diplomatic mission, but telling her he'd learned his French living in Paris had been an unfortunate mistake. She'd taken it as a snub on the purity of her language, an unfortunate misunderstanding he now saw no way to repair. How could one approach it? Especially since she did sound like she was from the border provinces, if not a colonial.
"Think about it," Silverson challenged him. "What crime have we committed on Home?"
"None, but my understanding is that young woman who started Central is pretty influential on Home. I don't think she would welcome us with open arms. A lot of the people who ran off to the lots they bought in Central don't see us as any different than the old Director. If they give us the boot at Home, we may run out of places to go," Frederick worried. "And if we leave our arrangement here I doubt the Americans will continue to subsidize us."
"It's true we didn't rush to change the rules as soon as we were running the place," Silverson admitted. "But we didn't take a rover over to Central and try to arrest them either. Miss Anderson would look very petty to ask the Assembly on Home to banish us, based on something that happened on the moon. Especially since the most culpable are dead. I understand they've only banished a handful of people. They have a labor shortage on Home and it's pretty much an English speaking hab. We could make something of ourselves there. If we stay here, we'll still be cleaning filters when we are old men. I doubt they would force us to do such stinky, filthy, monotonous work in prison. The courts would rule it cruel and unusual."
"What does Jared say?" Frederick asked. The third member of their team was still washing. He'd drawn the filters for one of the kitchens today and the black greasy dirt always managed to get on you somewhere, even with gloves, booties and a paper jump suit. Little fuzzy crumbs fell off and seems unnaturally attracted to your face.
"He seems to think if he is here alone, he'll be better off without us. He hopes that means he'll be boss of the filter gang."
The fourth member of their group had drawn another job and was avoiding them like the plague. If they left and he got sucked back into filter duty he would not be amused.
"Well after the first one, you have stuck him with every kitchen filter that's come up for service," Frederick pointed out.
"I didn't hear you volunteering to do any of them," Silverson reminded him.
"Hell no. I'm just saying," Frederick gave a very French shrug he'd picked up.
Chapter 11
"Come sit with me," April invited, waving the next morning. Matt Wilson changed course and joined her. He was another one who left everything on his tray and ate off of it. She'd been mentally tallying who was in that camp and who unloaded everything to the table. So far she hadn't found any common traits to explain the difference. She'd tried eating off the tray herself and found it uncomfortable, she wasn't sure why. It wasn't an extrovert / introvert thing, nor male / female. But she'd keep observing. Maybe there just wasn't any pattern.
"I've been thinking about you," he said, buttering his pancakes. He looked at his pancakes funny. "Do you know, I'm used to having my butter served melted in a little pitcher. This is time consuming and by the time you get all the pats in between the cakes they are half cold. I wonder if I can get it served that way? At least the syrup is hot and doesn't chill them."
"Anything else you are used to it served that way?"
"Well, lobster and clams, but I doubt I'll see that served here. When we'd go to the fair back home they served sweet corn steamed in the husks and they'd dip that in butter too."
"Ask, all they can say is no," April suggested. "Where did you live down below?"
"We lived in New Hampshire and then for awhile in Maine before we came up. You think it is a regional thing?"
"I've no idea, but now you have me wanting to try it."
"You know, I didn't tell you some of the things we did down there to deal with black markets and being spied on. It felt uncomfortable to tell you, even here. You get in the habit of not speaking freely. We'd switch cars with friends so we didn't have a pattern of going to a flea market or such too regularly. There are license plate readers everywhere and you don't want to establish a pattern of going to certain areas all the time. Or we'd park in a public lot or a business lot and take a bus to a market. If we used a business we'd buy something. We'd get a room in a cheap hotel on vacation and then use the shuttle bus the hotel provides to visit a local farmer's market or swap meet. They supposedly provide it to go to the airport or casinos, but if you are a guest you just ask the driver to drop you off and there's no record which guest got off where. We always did lots of shopping on vacation."
"Having your license plate stolen is a constant pain in the butt. We had ours stolen at least once a year. You can't legally cover it up and bolt it on from the inside. It messes up the plate readers. Some crooked people even maintain a list of where they can find cars the same color and model as theirs so they know where to go steal a plate if they intend to commit a crime. That way if you happen to run into a cop car that runs your plate they won't know it is off a different car without stopping you. It pays to have an oddball color and model of car."
"My kids swap their school ID with friends all the time to confuse the computers, or one kid will carry two ID and the other goes naked with no ID that can be scanned. If they get caught they just claim to have lost it. Some parents try to stop it, but they are likely the neighborhood snoop, getting paid and scared their kid will get them dropped. The schools track which cards show up together and know who are friends without having to ask, or co-conspirators to hear them excuse tracking them. Having special friends over others in school is antisocial. If you hang out with the same kids all the time they give you a lower grade. So even kids that don't like each other will swap cards to trick the system. If a kid gets caught turning others in for 'shadowing', that's what they call spoofing your location, their social life pretty much ends."
"My partner Jeff smuggles stuff into both North America and China. I know he gets several times the normal price for certain drugs and computer chips. I wonder though, from what you've told me, if he wouldn't do better trading for kind? Maybe cancer drugs for maple syrup or rough cut lumber instead of cash?"
"I can't believe you just told me straight out you are smuggling."
"Who's going to do something about it? He knows his customers just like you told me the other day and you admitted illegal acts yourself. You just don't spell out specific time and place. Neither would I. If they want to intercept him or arrest his people they would have to do it out in international waters. I'd suggest they think it over really carefully before trying to steal from Jeff. Last time the Chinese tried that crap they got a honking big crater where their biggest space port used to be."
"I didn't know that. That's a danger for the police trying to entrap people in black markets. Sometimes their undercover agents just disappear, tooth and nail. In fact there are places in North America any cop doesn't want to be out of sight of surveillance cameras and radio contact. Sometimes the rural areas are worse than big cities. Some agencies run their guys in pairs for safety. There have been no few cases where cops went to buy stuff on the sly from a black marketer, just because they need stuff just like the rest of us and they got disappeared because somebody knew they were a cop and assumed it was a sting, so they got killed for a pair of socks or bag of disposable razors."
"I guess that's the danger when you are a statist," April said with little sympathy.
"I'm very impressed with your Mother's school," he said, switching subjects.
"It's new, but my mom has been interested in education for a long time. She home schooled my brother and me. There was little choice, there wasn't any school back then, just a few people who did tutoring."
"She has my little girl and some others tutoring an older boy in English, but he in turn is teaching them Chinese. She is learning how to teach very effectively and she comes home all enthused and rattles off Chinese to me. I'm learning some whether I want to or not," he grinned. "She still uses a lot of Earth expressions, so she's getting taught the local dialect too."
"I'm surprised your older boy isn't doing it."
"The kid picked his own tutors, those who had been helping him the most and my little girl is a talker, you can't shut her up. My boy Iaan is more given to sitting back and not saying anything himself until somebody drags it out of him. So it doesn't surprise me."
"Are you getting your books out there on the market OK?
"Yes, I have a sequel up for one of my previous releases. It's only been up two days but I'm quite happy with it. Tonight I'm publishing a new stand alone novel. I don't want to release new books in a series too quickly. It's better marketing to space them out."
"Glad to hear it. I suspected you'd do OK."
"We'll see. It's still too early to tell. I'm hoping a lot of North Americans know enough to get around the net blocks and order from Australia."
"I've got to go. Have you met Ben Patsitsas, the author, yet?"
"No."
"Well that's him over by the coffee, pecking on his computer. Go introduce yourself if you want. Tell him I sent you over," April offered. She took off, unsure if he'd do it.
* * *
"It's no more risky than working outside here. Probably less risky than actual construction work. We won't be moving big struts or plates by hand, just plasma engines with Waldos on a scooter, all fairly compact and the same. Everything is redundant, lots of multiple systems for everything life critical and the pay is good. I'd get a cash signing bonus and a tenth of a percent of the whole load back at Home," Barak told his mom.
"You'd have to drop your classes at Faye's school," Sylvia pointed out.
"I enjoy them and I've learned a lot, more from the other students than Faye. But I'm pretty close to the point I'll have to be a paid instructor and not a student if I stay there a few more months. I see a lot more to be learned in a Out System voyage than the two days a week I'm attending school at Faye's. I'm the next to oldest student already."
"I'm just not sure you are mature enough to live independently for so long. You have to understand, it hasn't been that long ago I saw you do some pretty stupid things," His mom said.
"Stupid yeah, but life threatening? I just plain forgot I had a tea bag in my shirt pocket when I did the laundry. I didn't turn all Heather's stuff sepia on purpose for a trick. I had some of my own pieces in that wet wash too. I've learned to check all the pockets."
"There was that God-awful Anderson plastic coat of arms you got and they ripped you three times what it cost in shipping charges for that ugly blow molded thing and a photocopied 'genealogy' straight off the web."
"Hey, I was eleven years old. They made it look like it was a nice plaque in the photo. Cut me some slack, adult people get suckered in to buy those things. How far do you want to go back? Ten? Eight?"
"I'll think on it. Did you look up the principal investors and see what you could find out about them?" Sylvia asked.
"I did and I'll send it all to your pad. Some of the same guys did the Rock recovery. And Jeff Singh has a finger in it, supplying tech for the ship, the Yuki-onna."
"Well then at least that part of it should work," she acknowledged. "I'll look at it."
* * *
The shuttle from ISSII docked early on the off shift. Those intent on diving into a full work day with Home contacts took the early shuttle, arriving before most Home residents even awakened to start their main shift jobs. Most were comfortable enough with the trip to nap on the way over, trying to be somewhat rested rather than carry a full six hour disadvantage to early morning meetings.
Jesse Silverson and Frederic Tutman didn't nap. Both were terrified, not of the flight, but the commitment they'd made to leave their menial existence on the French habitat and seek their fortune on Home. They knew that it was Home people, well connected Home people, who had established the Central colony on the moon. Their previous overseers had decided to pursue Armstrong personnel fleeing to Central and arrest them. That had cost them their lives. The owner of Central had killed every Armstrong official in hot pursuit.
Their error had been in not seeing which way the wind was blowing when they inherited the top jobs. They had continued to obstruct the Central people from communicating and continued the oppressive regulations that created the problems in the first place. President Wiggen had removed them. If they hadn't done a deal to get refugee status at the French habitat they'd be sitting in an Earthside Federal prison right now.
Jesse realized he'd blown their opportunities with the French all by himself. Cleaning air filters for the next several decades didn't seem all that much better than a Federal prison. They'd likely have better entertainment and leisure time, if not food, in the prison.
What they had no way of knowing was if the same people who had a grudge against them from the moon were vindictive enough and had sufficient influence, to have a watch set for them with Home security. If they were denied entry or black-listed from getting a decent job on Home, they would be in a very rough spot indeed.
The Japanese didn't accept casual immigrants and ISSII was a cluster of sovereign territories with few neutral areas in which it would be difficult to live or work. Most of the big habs like New Las Vegas were under USNA law. The few habitats of small nations or regional associations like the Scandinavian association or the Israeli hab supported a much smaller crew and didn't accept outsiders as permanent residents unless they needed their skills desperately.
They were administrators not technicians or tradesmen. They had no rare skills. If they were turned away at Home they were pretty much screwed. They left the shuttle and went to the security check-in with trepidation. Allowing several of the other shuttle passengers to go ahead of them so they could see how difficult the entry process looked to be.
They couldn't hear what the first few through the check point said to security. The line was moving almost as fast as having no check point at all. They said just a few words back and forth and touched the ceramic DNA reader plate briefly. A few didn't even bother to clean their fingers off with a sani-wipe after the plate. It was silver impregnated and self cleaning, but most Earthies were scared of disease. The fellow Jesse was watching tapped the plate, said something to the security officer in the pale blue uniform with a smile and jumped for the bearing tunnel that was the entry into spin without even wiping his finger tips on his trouser leg. Surely they must be repeat travelers, already documented into the system.
The fellow ahead of them said, "David Holloway," tapped the plate and added, "You are radiant in your beauty, as usual, Miss Margaret." The screen added a line the man glanced at, so apparently the voice recognition got his spelling right.
"Keep moving you slick tongued devil," The officer said smiling. In North America she'd have arrested him for sexual harassment and added a few charges for impeding an officer in her duties at a minimum. Jesse was shocked at such public stereotyping.
"I'm a first time entry, my papers," Jesse offered. He had quite a stack, not knowing what would be required. His passport, medical history and a brief list of residences.
"We don't care about anything but if you have been expelled from Home previously. Actually there have been so few I still know them all by sight. But eventually there will be enough of them the DNA reader will really be needed. Right now it just lets us know who you are if you do something stupid and we have an inconvenient corpse to identify."
"But you could tell that from my ID in my wallet," Jesse protested.
"You would be astonished by the number of people who happen who to be naked when they do something stupid enough to kill themselves," she informed him, laughing. "Besides, Home doesn't really have any requirement to carry ID. And we don't much care what you call yourself. We don't even have a legal procedure to change names and some of my friends have adapted rather fanciful names, since you can do it as easily as sending a text to everyone on your com list. Now changing your hanko, that's a hassle. If you are staying on Home or doing business regularly I suggest you go by the Japanese consulate and obtain one."
Jesse blinked at her, wide eyed, mind racing. "I thank you for your instruction. John Wycliffe," he declared himself and touched the plate.
"Welcome to Home Mr. Wycliffe," she said with an amused expression. You will find many facts and a history of Home, as well as the few important regulations on our local web." She looked over his shoulder at Frederic Tutman, an obvious dismissal.
"Frederic Remington," Tutman declared without hesitation, touching the plate. He figured himself too trained to respond to his given name to change it.
"Welcome to Home Mr. Remington. I'm a big fan of your sculpture," Margaret added.
"Thank you ma'am. I heard your advice to my friend," Fred added, eager to get away. Sculpture? What the heck was that about? He'd have to look it up.
They followed the signs to the elevators and out to the main business level. The cafeteria was close which was fine. They were both starved. "Crying out loud, have you ever seen so many civilians wearing guns?" Jesse, uh, John that is, asked Fred.
"No, I feel like I'm on the set of some strange video," he admitted. "Let's see what you have to do to get fed here," he suggested and headed for the source of those good odors.
* * *
There were a couple men in line getting breakfast she'd never seen. April zoomed in with her spex and capture a good enough picture of them for ID. They were having a prolonged conversation with Wanda, which suggested they were new and probably signing up for a monthly cafeteria subscription if they had any brains. The a la carte rate on everything for more than two or three days was ruinous. She'd forward the pix to Jeff and Eddie. Their fledgling intelligence service could try to find out who they were.
The tailor shop girl Lindsey came in with a portfolio under her arm and made a beeline for April. She flopped it down on the table.
"Do you have time to look at a few drawings this morning?"
"Nothing I'd rather do, but let me finish up eating so I don't get anything on your samples. Grab something if you haven't eaten."
"OK," she looking at April's breakfast. She probably figured it was going to take awhile to finish eating all that. She trotted off and greeted Wanda by name. She returned with an English muffin sandwich and tea. That would carry April for about twenty minutes.
"This is all my current work. I had a lot of fashion drawings I left behind on Earth, but I've decided I've gotten better, so it isn't really stuff I'd like out in public for people to judge me. I hope I can recover it eventually, but just for myself."
"You're good," April told her without qualification. If you have a career of this and a following, your early stuff may be of more interest to scholars who want to follow how your style and ability grew, rather than make judgments about any one drawing standing alone."
Lindsey blushed heavily. "Thank you, but I'm not counting on that. I only have two subject areas so far. I've done mostly fashion design and I've done drawing of the Assemblies. I've only been up for the last three of them, but I plan to attend them all in the future."
"Let's see the Assembly stuff. Do you have any personal favorites?"
"I like this one," Lindsey admitted, turning to the drawing of Lieutenant Moore, the USNA officer who the militia captured after his satellite fired a rail gun load of pellets at Home. The lethal strike was what finally forced their move to L2 and the destruction of two identical USNA manned satellites in LEO. North America in the middle of a coup hadn't made a peep.
The Assembly had allowed that anyone who lost blood kin had first call on any retribution or punishment for their loved ones over public concerns. Mrs. Hu, who had lost her husband to the attack, asked April for the loan of her sword, a precious gift and family treasure from her maternal grandfather.
She'd instructed the prisoner to kneel and laid the cold blade across his neck in front of everyone. When she asked him if he admitted being an accessory to murder the man had tearfully admitted it. He certainly expected to die, as he fainted dead away and wet himself when Hu unexpectedly lifted the blade and said to send him off to the mercy of his bosses.
April was still of the opinion Hu would have hacked his head off with a single stroke if he'd tried to put the blame off on his command. She certainly would have in her place.
The drawing was powerful. The expression on Hu's face was just as she remembered it and Moore's expression was surprisingly well done for all that the angle obscured his countenance. The principal moderators of the Assembly behind the two main figures wore serious expressions, an Earthie might think they were judges if they didn't know how an assembly worked. April was surprised to see she and her partners were shown to the side in some detail, as was everyone important enough to have been seated flanking the makeshift stage.
The drawing was in landscape mode, in order to fit in the crowd. Lindsey had tiny printed notes running along the long edge of the drawing and it was dated.
"I'd buy a bigger version of this if you'd draw it again. It doesn't have to be an exact copy, but the same feel and subject matter. I'll give you the full ten thousand for this one," she offered.
"Ah, but this one is twelve thousand," Lindsey insisted. Taking the lead this time.
"Eleven," April said sternly, but she was grinning.
"Done," Lindsey agreed, but after enough of a pause to show she was thinking about, it and splitting the bids wouldn't always be an automatic thing.
"I'm still glad she didn't cut his head off," Lindsey said with a shudder.
"You and me both," April agreed. "You were right in line to be splattered. There would probably be little blood spots all over this page and I'd have been handed back a nasty bloody sword. I'm so glad he confessed."
"Was that the key?" Lindsey asked.
"I really think so. And if she'd executed him and the story was different, this wouldn't be such a powerful positive picture, it would be an unpleasant reminder."
Lindsey thought about that awhile, looking off in the distance, picturing what didn't happen April was pretty certain. Finally she just nodded agreement.
Chapter 12
To whatever political authority is responsible upon the habitat Mitsubishi 3:
From the director's office, ITU, Geneva, March 30, 2087 – 1300 Zulu
Notice of Regulation and Order to Desist
"The International Telecommunications Union has determined that the positioning of structures on and about the Lagrange points of the Earth Moon system may have the same sort of impacts upon radio relay and broadcasting rights as the filling of slots in the limited halo of available geostationary satellite slots.
To that end the Union intents to exert control over all naturally occurring regions which offer particular advantage and limited traffic bearing capacity anywhere in the solar system.
It is therefore needful to accept applications and assign resources for any artificial structures occupying these regions, or similar areas of stability anywhere in the greater solar system. While much consideration is given to current usage of such limited resources, we are in receipt of harsh complaints ahead of creating these new usage regulations. Protests have been filed that the political entity which styles itself as Home has a history of attacking and destroying the communications infrastructure of a number of members in both the Union and the parent body the United Nations.
We therefore call on you, in the face of such objections from our members, to withdraw from any manner of orbit around these islands of stability until a determination can be made who has the greatest need and who offer the widest benefit to all of mankind in exploiting these natural spaces.
If you have not removed yourself from the areas cited within ninety days of the date on this communication, the Union will petition the United Nations, our parent body, to call for a vote among our members on applying sanctions and entertaining options to recruit forces from within our member states to enforce our rulings.
Attached find forms for making application to our awards committees for license to use limited telecommunications assets. These may be forwarded electronically to the address which sent this message, but we still recommend a hard copy be forwarded after the electronic one to: International Telecommunication Union (ITU) Place des Nations 1211 Geneva 20."
It wasn't signed. Just the header that it was from the Director's office.
Jon, head of both Security and the Home militia, wondered which hat he should wear on this one. He printed out a copy and considered to whom he needed to forward copies. He hated to call an extra Assembly of Home, but one was not scheduled in the next ninety days. Of course there were always lots of extra issues and business raised any time an Assembly was called. He wondered if they'd ever just have one Assembly a year to pass a formal budget, without some emergency forcing an early one? He had his doubts.
In the end he decided it merited notifying both his Security mail list and notice to the militia. The key word near the end was force. If this agency thought they were going to send any armed force past L1 then it would be the first test of Home's decree that no armed Earth ships would be allowed past that line.
* * *
April's emergency buzz sounded on her com pad. That almost never happened. It was a text from Jeff and brief. It just said: "Read this." The rest was the UN notice.
She wasn't through reading it before several other messages addressed to 'ALL' stacked up on her pad. Few people had her code to reach her anytime like Jeff. She'd never seen so many general broadcast messages sent the same day, much less the same hour. She skimmed them quickly for now, sure they were all about the notice.
Call to hold an Assembly at 1200 hours March 31, 2087:
"Primary subject is discussion of UN threat to initiate force and sanctions if Mitsubishi 3 does not vacate its present location."
It was signed by her father, who managed the physical structure of the habitat for Mitsubishi.
Call to hold an Assembly at 1200 hours tomorrow:
"A threat of force has been received. Home militia must set member response levels and plans of action in response." Signed – Jon Davis Home militia coordinator.
Call for an Assembly of the people:
"A challenge to the resolution of the people made in Assembly has been published. In the matter of the L1 exclusion zone for armed Earth ships. An agency of the UN has ordered Home's physical removal and indicates a deadline of June 29, 2087 at 1300 hours Zulu time. After which time they will petition their parent body to impose damaging economic sanctions and assemble a force for military intervention. The Assembly shall discuss responses. A reminder - new immigrants must file an agreement to assume the burden of taxation before they may vote in Assembly." Eduardo Muños, Registrar of Voters. Attached: Record of vote on Armed Exclusion Zone. ITU Notice.
Call for an Assembly 1200 hours 3/31/2087 - Notice from Home Security:
"A threat of force after 6/29/2087 shall likely require a declaration of emergency and deployment of pressure and rescue assets on that date or prior. Damage to home as in previous hostile action is possible and spin may be reduced again to lower stress. The probability of this happening and responses from other departments and organizations will be discussed and should be known by emergency responders. Please listen to the Assembly debate although the potential action is well in the future." J. Davis/Security Office.
Well wasn't that just wonderful. April reflected that moving out past the moon had not curbed Earth's appetite to control them. Indeed, they declared effective ownership of the entire solar system and challenged them to defy it.
"Jeff," she sent back. "Would you please look at our funds and consider my private account with the total and see if we can afford to have another ten or twelve reentry sleds assembled for your larger fusion weapons? That's assuming your Mother's increased production of quantum fluid will allow their fabrication. I'd also like to see a large purchase of emergency ration bars and ship's meals sent to Central and put in deep safe storage. Would you show this to Heather and suggest she buy an additional full magazine load or two of 57mm ammunition for her Bofors on a rush basis. Even if she doesn't have the explosive loads assembled to tip them. I'd concentrate on the maneuverable rounds for orbital interception if possible." Love, April.
Now she regretted spending money on luxuries. If it was to be war again, art on the walls could wait. Not that she had spent a big percentage of her funds, but until this was settled she was imposing a new frugality on herself. She wasn't afraid so much as irritated and hungry, she was ready for lunch and so was Gunny when she asked.
* * *
Sylvia considered the news on her pad. She and Barak were having a late brunch. Both had slept in until the pushed through general broadcast had jarred them awake. Barak wasn't saying anything about it.
Sometimes Sylvia wondered how thick he was with his sister's triad. It was obvious to anyone with eyes they were a threesome, yet they'd taken him to Earth with them and Jeff was plainly as taken with Barak as the girls, so it wasn't just that he was cute, which she knew he was, even if she was prejudiced about that as his mother. She wasn't about to ask him plainly about his love life. If he had one. He might take it as license to inquire about her's. That wasn't about to happen.
"When does this snowball expedition leave?" Sylvia asked again.
"Middle of May is as close as they are calling it right now. Jeff is still fabricating gravitational devices and they've ordered an extra four plasma engines because they got enough partners who bought in. That will cut the transit time. Did you read the public material I gave you? And the contract?"
"I admit there are no fools backing this adventure. They're all solid people. The contract is fair. There is risk. Nobody has done this before and not all they learned doing the Rock recovery applies to a snowball. I have to agree with the point you made, that it is not as risky as a young boy taking a post on ship in the age of sail. Wealthy families have always risked their sons to maintain their position and advance their standing." She didn't say she'd invested a fair amount of money in the venture herself.
"If you still want to go, I am disposed to sign the contract for you. And if you can manage your duties and come back with a good report and success, I'll stand to your adulthood vote in the next Assembly after your return," she added.
"Thank you Mother," he said very formally. He looked pleased, but didn't gush or jump up and hoot like he would have a year ago. Maybe she was timing it right.
The new fact, that he'd be away when there might be a new war, this time with the entire UN, not just the United States of North America, was politely unvoiced.
* * *
"I'd like the pecan pancakes and please give me the butter in a pitcher like Matt has you do now," April asked Ruby.
"These are the same little pitchers I use for syrup and sometimes when there is a bunch at a table for coffee I put one out for cream. I'll have to get a couple dozen extra now that he started people asking for melted butter."
"Anything you need, you better ask for it soon and expedited shipment, before the UN can apply any sanctions and cut us off from supply," April suggested.
"I put in a special order a half hour after that general notice this morning. I do hope you like pancakes, because I ordered fifteen hundred kilos of buttermilk pancake mix, quite a bit of oil and freeze dried eggs and stuff like salt and sugar. Not to mention a lot of coffee concentrate. I know you guys like the fresh beans, but I can't afford to order them or store them in huge amounts and everybody drank the liquid concentrate just fine for years. If we get cut off I predict people will be glad to have it and not quibble. I shot my entire discretionary budget for the whole year. And I'll tell you confidentially, your Daddy took all of ten minutes to approve it unchanged and sent the release back to me."
"That doesn't surprise me. I asked Jeff to order a bunch of stuff, including rations to be sent to the moon and put in deep storage."
"I hope he has a ton of rods, the kinetic weapons, because I suspect somebody is going to need a butt whooping again before they learn to leave us alone."
April looked around to see nobody was close. "Yes, but rods just clear a path for bigger stuff," she said softly. "I asked him to double up on those if we can afford to and can get the components. I hate to be like that. I thought when we moved out here it would calm things down for awhile. I feel like money on weapons is a waste we are forced into and resent it. But if we get pushed I won't hesitate to use them, every-last-one if I have to," she vowed.
"Don't forget Easy is the best pilot on home, if you need a hot one," she reminded April.
"I won't, I saw he was on the voluntary training list for Dionysus' Chariot simulator. Tell him I appreciate that. If I have to make the call we'll use him.
"I'll tell him, casually," Ruby promised. "So as not to stroke his enormous ego."
* * *
After lunch she looked at her invoices for remodeling the new cubic. The remodel of the bathrooms and the special in-between shower she and Gunny had agreed on was done. She'd contracted for that to be done before the Santos even moved out.
Gunny had to have walls for privacy and the panels were not that expensive. She'd still have the tracks installed for those and bring the panels in. She could apply tracks to the overhead if she wanted walls someplace else later. Apparently the Santos and their guests were perfectly happy with a pair of folding screens, which she'd keep, as they looked high end. Once she had new furniture they might look nice somewhere. But the carpet and new furniture could wait. If the Santos could live with it and joke about it so could she.
The kitchen was functional, sort of. It's not like she expected to entertain weekly. It was a lot of money to do it right and she already had a cafeteria card. She liked going to the cafeteria and people watching. Folks did stop by and talk. The two burner, microwave and a compact refrigerator was enough if one of them was too tired to go out or sick for a few days. It could wait. A fancy kitchen was really a hobby kind of thing, not a necessity.
It was kind of crazy that she had really high end art to put on the walls and old mismatched used furniture. It wasn't broken down or dirty though. She'd had it exposed to vacuum before bringing it in for the Santos so it had no vermin. The carpet was OK, since she'd it cleaned for the Santos as well. She even liked it a little bit, because it did go well with the wall coverings, another major project. Let people think she was simply eccentric if they found it a tad eclectic.
She sent a text to Gunny, reading with his back to her. "Move in new place in three or four days OK with you?" He just gave her a thumbs up, knowing she'd be looking across at him.
* * *
When they went to supper Amos the visiting musician was hanging around with the knot of authors and odd balls who colonized the table next down from the coffee pots. He only had one guard sitting off against the wall, bright spots on his eyes showing he was watching a video or the news. He looked bored.
April smiled, imagining how un-bored he would be if he was told the full story of when a Chinese agent sat where his boss was sitting and tried to assassinate April. The mild mannered author typing away and chatting, had back hand thrown a mug of hot coffee in the man's face when he started his draw.
Ben had followed that by getting up, his face saying he intended to do a lot more serious harm, but before he could take more than a step toward the man, the fellow had been Tased, shot and stabbed in the back. April had always wondered what his intended follow through was going to be. She'd seen enough to list him among her dangerous acquaintances.
Amos excused himself, motioned to the body guard to stay and came to join April in line. "If you have no dinner companion, might I join you and ask a few questions?"
"Just Gunny and we have more than enough time to talk every day. Try the stuffed peppers if you like. Ruby seasons them a little differently and they are really good."
"They don't just buy trays of frozen ones from a food service?"
"Nope, these are just like grandma used to make," April joked.
"Maybe your grandma, not mine I assure you. I'll try them," he agreed. He got mashed potatoes, green beans and hot fresh yeast rolls with butter and apple butter. When they sat Gunny took a seat a table away, back to the wall. Just like Amos' man had done.
Despite his intent to talk he dug in and didn't resurface until all he had left was one roll and an untouched stuffed pepper.
"These are huge. I'm full but I hate to waste it when it's so good."
"Slide it over here," April instructed. "I have room for three."
"You aren't afraid to eat after me?" Amos asked, surprised, maybe even shocked.
"I don't think they have picker robots for peppers that won't bruise them. Some migrant worker grabbed them bare-handed. Who knows what his personal hygiene is like? That was out in an open field with birds, bugs and other creatures. They were then shipped with multiple stops in an unsealed foam box from field to orbit. Who knows what blew or dripped on them? Once they got here I'm pretty sure they were handled safely. Ruby or Wanda washed and stuffed them by hand, before they got cooked thoroughly. I have far more confidence in them than the previous handlers."
"As far as you, if you had some vile disease they'd have never let you in-spin and yes, their sensors are that good. But if I was that afraid of germs I wouldn't even eat in a cafeteria. I touch the table and chair to pull it out and to scoot in. I get silverware from baskets where anybody could have touched them. I pull the coffee pot handle that everybody has touched and dug in the pile of butter pats and sugar packets that have had God only knows who's hands in the bins getting their own out. You can wear gloves and even a mask or nosey, but if you live with people you are going to share their germs."
"I'm conflicted whether to be reassured we've survived, or if I should just feel doomed."
"My mom is germ phobic. I really understand. You need one of these apps for your phone or pad," April told him. She brought the screen up and scanned the pad across his plate. There wasn't any visible light, but the pad beeped and a green square lit up. "See? It says it's free of all nasty bacteria, viruses, prions, poisons and harmful chemicals," she showed him, tilting the screen to his view.
"I'll get that app. As you implied, you can't know where it's been, but you can check it before shoving it in your mouth. I like that. Here, enjoy," he said, pushing the pepper on her plate. "You know, back in North America they don't allow the kids to swap stuff in their school lunches. If they catch you they'll punish you. And disease is one of the reasons they give."
"I know, Matt's kids sat and told me how their schools are like a prison."
Amos looked around like he might be overheard. "North America is like one big prison."
"Whoa! Amos is getting radicalized! The stuffed peppers on Home are safe as can be, but I'm afraid you are picking up some dangerous, infectious ideas!
"I had them long before coming up," he said with a frown and a dismissive wave. "It's just not safe to say down below and would destroy my career, for nothing, I'd add. Thousands of people every year have the satisfaction of speaking out, but it doesn't change anything."
"Like getting LET, but you could tour Europe, right?"
"I could. Not everybody in the Ancient Astronauts would go along, or even understand why I wanted to. A couple of the younger players are pure products of the system. They'd jump at the chance to denounce me publicly for not supporting our government. The funny part is it would kill their careers too and they don't know it. The kids who buy our music hate snitches. The sales would just die and they'd never have a clue why. They were raised the children of privilege and the private schools they went to pounded conformity and Chauvinism into them worse than any public school. It would kill the band, which is doing very well thank you, making me a comfortable living."
"You sing and you know music. I was impressed at your ability with Ruby, to jump in and improvise. Couldn't you just cut loose and go out on your own?"
"I might, but the history of show business is littered with lead singers who thought they didn't need the talents of their supporting musicians to be a success and flopped spectacularly. It would be a huge risk. I might try it some time, especially if our band declines and I need to do something new anyway, but frankly, I'm pretty comfortable. I'm enough of a public figure to escape a lot of the minor hassles of the mob. What I'd really like is to live up here. Europe would just be a half-hearted solution.
"What can I say? Ride it until it fades," April suggested. "Just be aware. Home tried to make sure anyone could get on a shuttle and come up, but we didn't try to make sure they could bring their money with them. That's one of the little things that is sort of an intelligence test. If you can't figure out how to bring your money you are less likely to just abandon everything and lift. It helps keep up the quality of the immigrants."
"Keeping your money if you make much at all is already an intelligence test down there. I have an army of accountants and lawyers kept busy avoiding every petty tax and fee which would bleed me dry. I'm just worried if there will be a Home to come to after that emergency push through message that woke me up this morning. That's why I wanted to talk to you."
"I'm finding most Earthies that come up don't know the whole story. Not just North Americans either. The news was censored and sanitized in a lot of countries. There was a reason they surrendered to us. We hurt them far worse than they are willing to admit publicly. We've been attacked repeatedly. We had an invasion from North American right inside in our corridors. They shot nuclear weapons at us. Even after we have a treaty they shot a rail gun at us not even a year back and that's why we moved out here to L2. And we are still here. Did you know we drew a line in the sand so to speak and said no more armed Earth ships past L1?"
"Yes, they let that in the news, but are playing it as crazy arrogance and that space is the common heritage of all mankind."
"We live here," April said. "Do you have a house back on Earth?"
"I pretty much live on the road. But I have a small place out in the country in Connecticut."
"How would you feel if they said it belongs to everybody not you?"
"They seem to feel that way already. Given my property taxes I just rent it from the government. And the deed restrictions and zoning laws pretty much say I can't do what I want with it. But I see the point you are trying to make. You are not sitting on dirt surrounded like I am at home."
"Exactly. They are saying it doesn't matter how far we move away. They claim they make law for the whole solar system. I predict if we go off to the stars they will claim their law follows us there too, as soon as they have a ship that can follow."
"Well is it arrogance? Can you keep them from coming past L1?"
"I think so. They seem to think if the UN tells us to do something we can't defy that many nations. But there are only a couple nations capable of sending armed ships to us. There are only a couple who'd want to. It's easy to ask, cui bono? And the answer comes up either of the two super powers." April got an odd look for a moment. "Or both. And if they think painting a UN flag on the side and putting a blue patch on their shoulder means we won't know who to blame they are crazy."
She looked at Amos funny. "You remember my friend Jeff, who lifted with us?"
"Of course. He seemed like a lot of very bright, technically oriented people I've known. He isn't terribly social because his mind is on all those things he wants to do. Nothing wrong with that though. The world needs people like that. They rarely are the sort that make trouble. They make things instead of politicking and accumulating power."
"The Chinese have had a long running dispute with his step-mom. She was on the moon with the Chinese base there, but she defected. The Chinese feel that once they have educated you, then anything you create or discover is theirs. They feel they own your talents and you owe them for your education. So if you try to leave it is stealing from the state. Following me?"
"Yes, well they wouldn't put it that directly in North America, but the end result is pretty much the same, that if you want to leave North America you are a unappreciative traitor for thinking anyplace could be better."
"Since Jeff used some of the things from his mom to improve our ships, they decided to steal one to get the tech back, since they couldn't get to his mom and reeducate her right now. I'm sure they felt it was just getting back what she had selfishly stolen by leaving with her state supplied education. They used soldiers to blow it off the docking mast at USSII, killed the two crew members aboard and stuffed it in one of their shuttles and left. It had stuff we just couldn't let them have, including a weapon that I don't want to talk about in detail, but it was very surgical, no spectacular big boom, but very effective to target a single building or plane."
"I never knew that. I had no idea you were at odds with China too."
"They took Jeff's ship back to their spaceport on Earth. Here's a picture of it." April brought up a satellite view of the Jiuquan Launch Center on her pad. "This is out in the middle of desert for security. You can see the edge of a supporting city here on this edge," she traced with her finger. "This was their main space port."
"Was?" Amos asked lifting an eyebrow.
"Yes, this is a before picture. Note the little map legend in the corner. That a five kilometer line overlaid on the photo, with the little pips marking off single kilometers."
Amos nodded understanding.
"This is the after photo." She didn't explain it. She just laid it in front of Amos and let him study it.
"Is that a big pit? Are you sure this is the same place? It looks like satellite photos I've seen of a big open pit mine for copper."
"Use the back button and look at the edges where there's the same shape to the land."
"It is the same place," he said after jogging back and forth several times. "That hole is a little bigger than the scale..."
"Yep."
"Are you saying Home did this?" He looked pretty upset.
"Not at all. Jeff did this. You don't want to steal from Jeff. It wasn't Home militia or anybody else. He destroyed the ship rather than let them steal it to reverse engineer. He didn't have to ask permission or get anybody to declare war. It was a private matter."
"You can't let individuals have that kind of power!"
"So if the President of the USNA says to bomb someplace it's different, because he has a fancier title and he is sanitized from having to push the actual button himself?"
"But when a country does it there are more people involved, there's more restraint."
"Where was all that restraint a couple years ago when President Hadley shot a couple nukes at us during the war? Seems to me everybody right down the line hopped to and followed Hadley's orders to massacre us."
"I heard you say that. He did that, for real?"
"Yes, we might have been able to shoot them down, but we had an ally who did it for us."
Amos looked stunned. "They would risk this happening again?" he said stabbing the image on the pad with an incriminating finger, "to force you to leave someplace they will leave empty because they have no use for it? At least that's what Mr. Muños told me was happening this morning, when I was waiting for you."
"Yes, it's a giant stupid pissing contest and I'm sure whoever is doing it thinks the UN will take the blame and they'll be safe from such retribution," she said making a motion at the screen.
"I'm going to be back to Earth in a few days, I can't stay here this time. If I do come back it will take time and planning. I hope you know it isn't simple cowardice I'm going back. It's not because I'm afraid they will blow you guys out of the sky."
"I can't fault you. I don't really see you have a dog in this fight right now. You don't have any short term influence with your government and you aren't to blame for what they do. But you may still suffer from what they do in your name. We'll do what is necessary. Spacers understand necessity. I wouldn't take a gig real close to any major UN facilities if I were you. In fact it might be smart to take a few extra vacation days out at your country home if you see things going bad. Not even hanging around any big cities," she suggested.
"Thank you. I'll be careful. Are you sure you want to be here? I mean, do you need to be here, because it would be silly to sit on a target just for a show of solidarity."
"I'm not sure. I may be of use. I sat in his office when Jeff directed the strike against his ship. I might be on a ship, or I may be down a kilometer underground on the moon. I'm sure a lot of people who can get away from their work will decide to visit aunt Millie, or send the kids to visit their grandmother for a few weeks. Some with money might even go visit New Las Vegas for a bit and ride it out in luxury. At least you really know what is happening now. That's more than most of the people who only know what the talking heads on the TV channels are telling them."
"The pepper didn't kill you," he joked.
"Now that you understand what's been happening, see why it's hard for me to worry about a stuffed pepper?"
"Yeah, but I'm still going to buy that app," he vowed.
Chapter 13
When they got home there was a shipping tube waiting for April, pretty good sized too. Nothing she expected. A check of the label showed it was Lindsey, but she certainly hadn't expected her drawing from the notebook this fast.
There was a sticky billing type envelope stuck on the outside. Inside was Lindsey's hand written note.
April,
I imagine you expected a drawing similar in size to the other you bought. I started one like that and set it aside. It didn't seem to do the subject justice. This is actually a bit bigger than the poster size turned to landscape mode. It's sort of heavy vellum paper, almost light card stock, but I liked it and it's the biggest drawing I've done by hand. I'd had no experience but working in a notebook and it was hard to adjust to drawing something that is meant to be viewed from further back than at arm's length, where I have to be to draw it. Does that make sense? Once I started on it I just couldn't stop. I'm glad it's done because I need some sleep tonight.
In any case, if you don't care for it tell me and I'll finish the smaller one for you, as I plan to eventually anyway, but I think this is the better drawing if you have room to display it.
Thank you for all your kind words about my work.
Lindsey
Gunny helped her get it out of the tube without damaging it. They put it on the floor, because there was no other horizontal surface big enough. They put their pads and a print book and a box of cookies on the corners to hold the curl down. Then they sat on the couch and just looked at it for awhile.
The sketch in Lindsey's notebook was black and white. In this version the two main characters were full color. Intense color. The men on the slightly raised improvised dais behind them were in color, but more muted. The figures on each side of the raised area, ship owners, merchants, people of means and connections, were still done in some detail, enough to identify them easily, but their clothing and features were cranked back to almost pastel tints.
"I'm calling Brown's Mercantile right now to come pick this up. They can mount it right and make a frame and seal it up in argon, before we mess up and crease it or drop something on it."
"If that girl didn't have a photo to work from, beside just her sketch, she has a phenomenal memory," Gunny declared.
"The Assembly sessions do have a video record. I don't know if she needed to check it. I don't care really. I'm almost ashamed to keep this to myself. It should be in a museum."
"Or a public art gallery," Gunny agreed."Do you mean we're going to have this on the wall in your new place? Along with the fashion drawings and the Tongan tapa?"
"Yeah, we'll hang it if I have to build a wall just for that purpose."
"I need to clue you in. You can stop worrying about how we'll have used furniture and you're not sure about having people visit. If they stop looking at this to check out the furniture they're idiots."
* * *
"I'm shocked how easily we got work," Frederic admitted. "But that push message about the UN scared the crap outta me. We seem to have one case of bad luck after another. We waited to come here until right before somebody wants to attack them."
"Remember the moon," Jesse suggested. "They were going to go grab those elopers and be right back to Armstrong. Piece of cake and teach that kid at Central a lesson..."
"You figure they can deal with the UN?"
"A typical, for real, UN police action is to send a couple hundred ill equipped Gambians of whom three can speak English or French to speak with outsiders and a bunch of interpreters to pass their own orders around in four or five tribal languages. Any serious UN action with modern forces is just a facade by one of the Security Council to distance themselves from doing the dirty deed themselves. So you tell me. Who wants to hurt Home? Keeping in mind they already forced North America to a surrender and they are still in some chaos internally."
"China?"
"Got it in one. I don't see any other possibility."
* * *
Jeff showed up unannounced at breakfast the next morning, a pleasant surprise.
"The guys trying stuff with the bucky tubes are getting some interesting results. Not what they were trying to get, but interesting. The two guys trying to build regularly spaced side defects in a tube found one way to get them, but in a spiral and it makes them clump together. They sort of spin themselves into a thread like wool if you are careful pulling them from a mass all along the length," he showed with his fingers. "But if you work one spot too much you can get a lump that won't pull out any further and is a hard ball you are stuck with. One guy said it's like what wool does when you make felt."
"I sort of doubt you'd be making it by hand," April said, skeptically.
"Well no, but we're just playing with the first couple small batches to see what it does. One of the fellows said it will be like trying to build a machine to make cotton candy rope, because it seems to stick to everything else just as well as itself."
"Then it should be a good adhesive."
"Yeah, if you could make it and apply it as it's being made. It would be a solid lump if you tried to put it in a squeeze tube. The one fellow trying to make modified Bucky tubes go inside each other is frustrated. The modified tubes have to be grown together. Short smaller diameter pieces don't want to move down a tube, they stick."
"It still sounds like you are going to get something useful."
"Almost certainly. What we'll just have to wait and see."
"Everything working out on the snowball job?"
"Yes, the machinery is all made. We just need quantum fluid from my mom and we'll have it in time if she doesn't have any major breakdowns. Getting enough for that project you requested will be a few weeks," Jeff looked around like he was afraid to speak any plainer. "I hope we have time and nobody pushes the date up from the deadline they gave."
"But we can afford it?"
"Yes, I twisted some arms and got payments. Some that were late and some actually early. I have come to trust your hunches. Do you really think we'll need them?"
"I don't know. Do you think it was Lichtenstein that nudged the ITU to put pressure on us?"
"Uh, no. But this means we'll have 22 or more of the big weapons," he said even lower. "Do you have any idea, even as big as China is, what that many would do to them?" he asked.
"Here's the thing. If you do get into a shooting war and use eight or ten on China, supposing it's their ships that are sent out with a UN blue blaze on their nose and we know who to blame, do you want to face the rest of them with nothing left to shoot? Don't you think they could get pretty ugly if they think we've shot ourselves empty and can't respond?"
"This isn't like when they stole Eddie's Rascal and we were on our own. They are threatening all of Home and we can let the militia have the first chance at them," Jeff said.
"I'm good with that. Consider us back up if they can't handle it. You still don't want to release your fusion weapon design to the militia do you?"
"No," he said quickly, but had that look he was thinking about it. "No, I'm sorry I even had to build them. I barely trust myself to not use them unless they are the last resort. I still see the militia as a bit of a mob. If any of this was rational we wouldn't need the bombs. I want us three to be the last line they have to push past, to force their use. I shouldn't even have to guess what they will do if they were reasonable people. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes, China got a good look at what you can do and they changed leaders, but it was a near thing. You came way too close to devastating them. Every time I think they can't be that stupid down there they prove me wrong. Maybe it is somebody else pushing this, but it smells like China. If it turns out to be the USNA I'll be surprised. They didn't say boo when we took out their other rail gun satellites before we moved. It scares me I can't predict what they'll do."
"They seem to be having enough trouble consolidating their hold on North America to want to fight us too. They sure backed off on the propaganda, compared to before the coup."
"Unless they suddenly learned to be subtle," April agreed.
"I'm going back to the moon when the snowball ship work is done, if you're of a mind to come along for any reason."
"I'm wondering where I can be of any use if the UN does come for us. It might be safer down as far as you've tunneled."
"You should know Heather intends to be involved, if they send a ship or a fleet and do a lunar orbital maneuver. They may take up lunar orbit and survey the surface for dangers and then do a deep radar sweep of trans lunar space before committing to intercept Home. We've been talking about it and we have some strategies. That's part of why I've decided to put two of the fusion weapons in lunar orbit instead of Earth orbit. Central might become a target instead of Home. They have sufficient delta-V to do a lunar orbit intercept without any modification. The updated codes will be on your pads. Heather will sit in on the Assembly by video link later."
"Sit with me?" April asked.
"Of course," Jeff seemed surprised she asked.
* * *
April came to the cafeteria a half hour early. Jeff was sitting against the wall, right against the edge of the raised dais, but at the normal floor level, with a seat empty beside him. He was leaning over the empty seat, speaking earnestly to Barak.
They finished and leaned back when she approached and took her seat.
"May I sit with you tonight?" Barak asked, politely. "You weren't saving the seat for anyone else were you?"
"Not at all. I'm always happy of your company," she assured him.
He sat back and relaxed at that. April looked around. Lindsey was sitting at some distance in the corner of the room, notebook open in front of her, just like she'd said was her intent to make her habit. Amos was off in a corner with his guards and gave a single nod when their eyes met.
"The eleventh Assembly of Home is called to order," Eduardo Muños said softly. He didn't depend on bombast and volume to maintain order.
"The primary business of this session is the notice given Home by the ITU, an agency of the United Nations, that all positions of particular use as sites for communication devices such as the metastable Lagrange points are subject to their licensing authority. I ask you to hold ordinary business for another session."
"The aggressive nature of this notice hinges on two points. The notice has no authorizing signature and a deadline is immediately imposed with no discussion, backed up by a threat to seek force to enforce their decree."
"If you have not read the emergency push through notices in the Home net this morning please do so rather than put questions to the floor. Likewise if you are unsure of who the ITU is, or their usual business or anything about the United Nations please consult the web first while the discussion advances."
"I'd like Mr. Lewis as administrator for Mitsubishi to gift us with his thoughts. Then Mr. Davis as coordinator for the militia, then open it to questions and resolutions from the voters."
Aprils dad stood up. "I have not contacted Mitsubishi about this notice. They were not named in it, but rather Home the political entity is addressed. It seems to me as long as they ignore the physical owners of the habitat I can only cause problems for them to drag them into the discussion and put them in a position where they might have to take a political stand. They have given me wide latitude to act in the past and I'm going to assume they retain confidence in me until told otherwise." He sat down, with his usual brevity.
Jon Davis stood up, pacing to the front of their makeshift stage. He scowled in thought.
"The Assembly has already issued a statement that we will not tolerate armed Earth ships beyond the line of L1. It may seem obvious that to issue this notice is to challenge that, but that is not how Earth politics, Earth thinking, works."
"By raising the issue of licensing locations they claim authority that would supersede our declaration. Of course if they have such authority they have the moral right to enforce it! It is nit picking, but we must address the fact they have no authority over any of our affairs past L1. Certainly not over the whole solar system as they are trying to grasp. We should have done this before, but we worked from the opposite train of logic. If you can't enforce it you obviously have no right to make rules and law."
"Now, as to if they can enforce it, they are in a bad position to take military action against us. We moved out here specifically to give ourselves time and distance to see an attack and react to it. We have as many armed ships as any one Earth power could bring against us and our weapons are technically superior."
"The greater danger is the threat of sanctions. People expect you to defend yourself from violence, but how do you hold the moral high ground and demand someone sell you items at gun point? If you need food and medicine to survive, it is easier to wage a passive aggressive war of denial than direct attack. A nation can say: Go buy it elsewhere. We simply choose not to do business with you. They have the psychological edge with the public. The fact there is no other source will be lost on much of the public."
"How do we counter that? Two ways I can think of and perhaps you can think of more. We can force or trick them into taking aggressive action first. This is dangerous. In space warfare the advantage is overwhelmingly with the one to fire first. Our declaration helps there, because we have established there is a line they have notice they must not cross. Just bringing an armed ship across L1 will make much of the public feel they were asking for a response as much as actually firing. The portion of the public who feel my country right or wrong don't concern us, their favor is lost before we start."
"The other counter is not as pretty. It is to identify who sent this ultimatum without the courage to put their name to it, or at least ID who volunteers ships to enforce it and not only wipe their military force out to the last ship and man but punish the Earth side territory harshly. So harshly that others are afraid to join an embargo. The down side to this is – when does it end? Shall we have a permanent relationship with Earth powers and needed suppliers based on being a bully? That is unstable and eventually has to end, badly." He walked back and sat.
"I have a com call from Heather Anderson I'd like to entertain," Mr. Muños told them. "She is calling from the moon, but she is certified as a Home citizen and voter."
"It is my intent, if Earth powers breach the L1 line, to consider them not only as a threat to Home but to the people of Central. Unless home militia requests I desist from engaging them with a private message and coordinates strategy, I reserve the right to act in self defense when confronted with armed Earth ships. A lunar orbit phase in any attack on Home is likely. Their armed presence in our exclusion zone is evidence of intent to attack us to me. We are on record as partners in the exclusion zone. My area of engagement extends to the entire lunar surface and the entire orbital envelope. Indeed it extends back to Earth orbit with some limitations. We could however use the help of a spotter ship on the opposite side of the moon. Such a spotter could be passive, as I expect any Earth force to aggressively sweep with radar, or active, depending on their capabilities and willingness to take risk. Private message me to volunteer. I'll pick the one with the best experience and equipment."
Several ship owners were seen to suddenly need their com pads.
"Mr. Duval. What are your thoughts sir?" Muños asked. Duval was a ship owner and long time resident. He stood and spoke with the soft Deep Southern accent of his youth.
"Various Earth powers hold assets beyond L1. If they wish to tell us what to do on our home ground we can impose restrictions of our own. The lunar colonies of any violating powers can be informed the are no longer welcome on the moon. Sanctions can be applied to their receiving supplies. Indeed letter of marque can be supplied to let us seize ships and supplies destined for those bases. They can be put in the position of having to abandon their sites or starve. If they orbit armed forces that is violation of our exclusion, but if they should land armed forces at their bases, that makes them clearly culpable too and we can take whatever direct action we deem proper against their bases, including removing the residents and shipping them back to LEO."
"Mr. Davis." Muños nodded at Jon.
"You raise an excellent point. The militia will make contingency plans to blockade or expel lunar residents whose countries oppose us and the right to issue letters of marque at need will be requested of the Assembly when we get to that point later."
"Thank you," Muños said after he sat. "The chair recognizes Ms. Raines."
"If we are sanctioned does that mean they refuse to buy our exports as well as refuse to sell to us?" she asked. "I'd hate to see us start using tariffs and export restrictions like an Earth government would. That starts down the road to big government and punishes our own businesses as much as the opposing governments to make a political point. But if they refuse to buy, can we make sure they don't bypass that on the sly? We make quite a few drugs and specialty materials that are very hard to replace. With the current shortage of lift capacity I believe it would be very difficult and expensive to set up manufacturing elsewhere. At the least, could we ask our merchants to voluntarily sell to other nations first? If scarce items have a bigger market than the supply, let our enemies be the ones shorted when they are identified."
"Mr. Singh?" Muños seemed slightly amused. It wouldn't surprise Jeff if he knew what he'd been doing and what he'd reveal to Ms. Raines. Jeff stood and gave a little bow to the lady still standing, not sure she wanted to yield the floor.
"Loretta, North America imposed import restrictions during the war. We didn't make it a point of our treaty terms to remove them, feeling they were cutting off their nose to spite their face. China, although not in a declared war with us, similarly forbade importation of several Home products. Not specialized chips or crystal substrates, because the state needs those, but most of the pharmaceuticals. Most manufacturers have put pressure on customers in other countries to not divert a portion of their order to either country. In one case I know a Korean distributor had his next order shorted and when he inquired why, was told since he'd sent that portion to North America he must not need it locally." He paused and looked distressed.
"How to say this? Since there exists a market and our firm owns a shuttle capable of water landings in international waters, we've been supplying some of these goods ourselves. We pay double the market value to the manufacturers to offset their losses and just gouge the hell out of the North American or Chinese buyers. Asking four or five times what other countries pay."
"I thought this a better solution than trying to cut off all diversion of the products, because when demand gets high enough it is almost impossible to do. With drugs for example, if enough people with high income need them, the supply line starts leaking below the distributor. Hospitals and doctors divert. People even start paying for false prescriptions to resell as individuals. I felt that it was not only an opportunity to make money from them over their poor choice, but build resentment against those governments when people were forced to spend exorbitant amounts to acquire what people in other countries buy freely. In some cases people actually flew to other countries to get treated since it was cheaper than buying the drug at home. I don't know if this satisfies you, but it has been working and I think it hurts them worse than an official prohibition that would be more symbolic than effective."
Loretta clapped her hands together once in delight. "I'm entirely satisfied you have the situation well in hand. Get them for every buck the market will bear!" she said, with a laugh and sat. An echoing wave of laughter rolled through the audience.
"Mr. Patsitsas. What is your take on this, sir?" Mr. Muños inquired.
"I'm of a mind that there is no need to identify which Earth nation or nations acts to supply the military force to back this order to act. If the UN acts as a state we can treat them as a state. If the USNA acts against us we don't care if the strike comes from Kentucky or California. There are a number of administrative centers for the UN, one of which is the old site for the failed League of Nations. Six or seven are important enough their removal would hurt the organization badly. Even if we never know who is a in a ship sent against us we can act against the UN. It's time it be relegated to the footnotes of history anyway, just like the League. I'd just ask restraint, that for example in removing the UN we don't leave all of Geneva a smoking crater surrounded by a thousand square kilometers of newly cleared parking lot." He might be addressing Muños and the Assembly, but he was looking at Jeff.
Jeff looked at Muños questioningly. He got the nod and stood again.
"I feel that was addressed to me. I just received your gaze, though I was not addressed directly. Is that the case, before I answer a question that isn't mine in error?"
"Yes, we all know what happened to Jiuquan," Ben said.
"Very well. Although I doubt you fully know why Jiuquan happened. I guess the first thing I'd say, is I'm not a monster. Or more technically, I'm not a sociopath. If anyone has real concerns about that I'll submit to an examination and questions by Jon under drugged brain scan, as long as I have an advocate to limit the range of questions." There was a murmur from the crowd. Most people did not volunteer for that sort of an invasion of their privacy.
"Jiuquan was necessary not just to protect my business interests and my mother's business and professional secrets and intellectual property, but for the survival of home. Please feel free to analyze this statement and others I make with veracity gauging software I know you all carry on your pads. It is my firm opinion that if I had not destroyed Eddie's Rascal once it was captured, Home as a free political entity would have ceased to exist by now." He pause to let them see the results which usually lagged a bit running on a pad's limited capacity.
"The other weapons and options I had were not certain to ensure the complete destruction of our stolen vessel. When it is a matter of national and personal survival, eighty or ninety percent certainty is not sufficient. A ten kiloton weapon might not have gotten through, might not have been accurate enough or large enough to be certain of complete destruction. It is true the device I used was untested. I'd planned a test which was going to be both expensive and a delay of months to ensure privacy. However the press of events forced me to act without this information. The yield was approximately five times the energy expected. I don't wish to discuss technical details, because I hope to keep these devices proprietary for a long time. Suffice it to say I now know how to reduce the yield somewhat to the originally planned fifty megaton range, or improve it slightly to about three hundred and fifty megaton. Building a smaller device isn't economically feasible as we can get the lower yield cheaper in other mechanisms. So this particular weapons system would not be usable against a limited target like the campus of the UN at Geneva."
"You also seem to forget I am not part of the militia. I may coordinate with the militia voluntarily, but neither of us share weapons systems nor can demand the other act. My family owns lesser systems we could use, but I see no need to address that, because the challenge from the UN is against Home. We are quite happy to allow the militia to address any action against the UN or Earth powers before any of the Singh corporations or family. I simply reserve the right to act. I'd do so if the militia proves unable to adequately respond to these threats, but I may be willing to wait patiently on them dealing with Earth. I should add, the militia doesn't control our weapons, but others besides me have the ability to command the systems I built. Assassinating me will not remove it from play. Does this speak to your concerns, Ben? Or anyone else for that matter."
"It does, but if you don't mind confirming plainly, just so we know what we are dealing with here. You do still have the same sort of capacity to make a strike like you used on Jiuquan?"
"We," he emphasized the plural. "Have the ability to direct multiples of that sort of weapon, with enhanced penetration aids and decoys, sufficient to remove either China or North America from being a significant player in Earth affairs for many years and retain sufficient capacity after that act to do the same to the other. We could easily remove a much smaller country from the map entirely, such that it simply ceases to exist. I have no idea how many centuries it would require to return such a vast area to a natural environment and ecology from outside sources. I hope we never have to find out. If that scares you, let me assure you it scares me down to my toes and I hope word leaks out and it absolutely terrifies any Earthies who happen to be sane, assuming such a personality exists in their politics."
There were a lot of heads looking down, faces grim, reading their private pads. Amos among them. Even if such capacity was on their side and not the enemies', they still weren't happy with the mental picture of what its use would mean.
"Thank you. That covers everything and more." Ben said sitting.
"Ms. Horton," Muños invited.
"Does the militia, not Mr. Singh, have sufficient arms to address the sort of action we may require?"
Muños looked to Jon again.
"We are volunteers, he said, staying seated this time. "Most ship owners have armed their own vessels, given the uncertain safety of picking up or dropping off freight or passengers at other habitats. Or even making transit unmolested. Some few of them have weapons beyond ship to ship missiles or lasers. We have a few who own ten, five and two kiloton, or five hundred ton missiles which can be used ship to ship or in a ground attack mode through atmosphere. Some ships or owners have just one. Yet they are all willing to bear the expense if they have to expend them. If they are needed the militia has a number of kinetic weapons held in common to soften up a target's ballistic defenses before any warhead is used. If the assembly wishes to authorize additional monies to increase the number of loitering kinetic weapons or offer a ground attack weapon to owners who can't afford one that is your choice. I don't favor imposing restrictions or control on the owners or ship captains favored with such gifts. We all have access to the entire system, so even in the event of a massive devastating attack, someone, somewhere, will retain the ability to extract retribution. If you add permissions and consultation you invite a first strike attempting decapitation."
"I'll think on such a motion," she promised.
Jon raised his hand to Muños again and got the nod. "Tax increases tend to become permanent, my lady. We are not so far off what we need. Rather let me suggest those who find themselves with a surplus contribute for this specific need, if they are concerned about our equipment and ability. Anything I get I'll husband carefully," he promised.
"Mr. Tindal," Mr. Muños said with a slight hesitation, perhaps checking the voter list.
"It seems like we've covered all we really know," Gunny said. Until we see some action or receive further communications we are just waiting for the ninety days to run out. I move we formulate what our response should be and if we should put them on notice our exclusion zone is much wider than they seem to think. I got the sense that is what Jon wants." He sat down though, leaving the details to others.
"Miss Lewis," Muños recognized her.
"Say plainly, Earth law, Earth custom and Earth power are unwelcome and will be excluded outside L1. Armed forces will be assumed actively hostile and engaged without warning. Responsible parties who join such forces will be subject to retribution inside L1 and on their planetary territory. Damages will be subject to recovery by force. Do not exclude the possibility there may be two or more Earth powers conspiring."
"Mr. Davis,"
"Make clear, the UN will be held responsible like a sovereign state. A force sent outside L1 will be a declaration of war. Their facilities and people will all subject to attack anywhere."
"Mr. Dixon, by com," Muños added.
"If the ITU asks for enforcement of their ruling there will be a meeting of the General Assembly in Brussels. I suggest you make them aware any voting 'aye' to send an expedition to force our removal or punish us will all be considered either part of the UN or an ally at war with us. Give them ample reason to vote no."
"Mr. Michelson," Muños called on a man in work clothes seated near April. His name tag just said Dave, but he was the owner of Advanced Spacecraft Services.
"They moved the UN headquarters to Brussels, but the old building, the second one they built on the site in New York still sits mostly empty. They still own it. If you act against them, remove that building or damage it beyond use so they can't switch back and use it again. That and the IMF in Washington, so North America gets the message they are not exempt. I wish there was a significant UN office in China, they need a message too."
The man seated beside him said something quietly to Dave.
"Ah, the UN has a big campus in Nairobi," he added with some satisfaction. "That's good, so it isn't seen as a European action."
Jon, as militia coordinator nodded his acceptance of the advice.
"Mrs. Hu," Muños said, in a little softer voice.
"I'm not sure I want my children to be here if people are shooting at us again." She looked upset. "I lost my husband last time. This is my home and I have no love of North America or any of the rest of them, but I can't take chances with what I have left."
"Dear Lady, Nancy if I may, nobody would take it as a sign of disloyalty at all if you send your children to safety." Muños assured her. "There were lots of people who went to other habitats or Earth when we were threatened before. There isn't any reason you shouldn't join them along with your children. It's not like you have a militia job or are an emergency responder needed for pressure watch and medical emergencies. If we slow spin down and lots of people are off Home, then business will be slow and lots of business owners will be happy to grant time off. What you are suggesting is just good sense. I hope a lot of people do it. There will be that many less to worry about."
"Thank you. I care what you people think of me," she said, waving an encompassing hand.
"Is there any alternate view, or reservations? Are we agreed we must act to oppose these orders laid upon us? Or does anyone wish our response to be milder than what the speakers have suggested? Speak freely, numbers do not make things right and we will weigh other views."
There was a conspicuous lack of dissent.
"May I suggest, as we have successfully done in the past, we assign Jon Davis to compose all the main elements of these thoughts presented as compactly as possible, because too many words lessens their impact. Then for him to present it as our Spox to the Earth news services at the same time tomorrow?" Muños looked around. Dave held up two fingers to say he seconded it. Ben held his hand up and made a shooing motion to so move.
"How do you people say?" he asked officially. The vote was eighteen hundred and forty three yea, four hundred eleven nay and an unusual number of abstentions.
April avoided the press of people trying to have a last word with Jon and lobbying Muños. She went to Lindsey before she finished and packed up to leave. She was adding to a sketch of when Jon was speaking. Most faces were turned to him and the expressions ranged from serious to grim. When she looked at Jeff and herself and the oddest thing was that Barak was looking at her, not Jon. He didn't look grim at all and looking at them beside each other, Barak was as tall as her now. She didn't disbelieve it. Lindsey had a very accurate eye, but he used to snuggle under her arm sitting on his mom Sylvia's couch not so very long ago. When had this happened?
Chapter 14
The next day the Assembly listened to Jon's proposed release. When asked by Muños if they would accept it as read it passed with a respectable margin. Muños had several news services waiting for a live reading and as soon as Jon was ready he checked the live feeds.
Jon Davis as Spox for the Assembly of Home in public press release:
People of Earth, those in close habitats and the moon. The nation of Home recently removed themselves from orbiting too close to you in the interests of peace.
Now we find ourselves threatened by the United Nations agency the ITU. Enclosed is a copy of their threats. The UN and the agency are being used by some unnamed cowardly bureaucrat ashamed to sign his name and take responsibility.
We previously declared our resolution in Assembly that no armed Earth ships would be tolerated past L1. Now you declare your authority extends over the whole solar system, that you may depose us from our chosen location, not even pretending a need for our position beyond a desire to exercise your power.
Understand this clearly. Earth law, Earth custom and Earth power do not extend beyond L1. If you cross that line it will be seen as aggression and met with force. If you cause us harm in blood or treasure we will retaliate against any Earth governments voting to join this subterfuge to hide behind the shield of the UN. We will act against the UN and it's instruments and personnel as if it is a sovereign nation wherever we can find them.
Economic sanctions work both ways. Many space made products have become necessities. Cutting us off would hamper modern communications, computer resources and deprive the sick of needed medication. Peaceful outposts of Earth governments are welcome beyond L1. Any that support efforts to harm us are subject to reprisal and removal. Economic harm is subject to the issue of letters of marque and seizure of Earth assets anywhere to right the wrong.
To repeat for clarity. A state of war will exist with no further warning or consultation between the Home and the UN and their supporters, if you breach the L1 line with arms.
Consider the dangers carefully if you wish to pursue this unjust action further.
The people of Home in their eleventh Assembly, have voted and adapted this statement as their law on March 31, 2087.
Muños gave a slash sign that the feed was cut to the news services. There was a quiet round of applause from those present in the cafeteria. "Short and sweet. You have a talent for not babbling on endlessly so the point of the whole thing is lost," Muños complimented him and offered his hand. Lindsey sketched furiously. Capturing the moment they clasped while it was fresh in her mind.
April was exhausted from the emotions of the Assembly when she went home, but not too tired to lay a moment in her bed realizing it was her last night in her childhood room. She'd move her things to her new cubic tomorrow and gunny would probably get his things transferred too. It was nice, but it was bitter sweet too. The room held a lot of memories, most good. But she drifted off thinking about it.
* * *
Barak was sitting waiting for her with the older guys in the coffee group when she went to breakfast. He stood as soon as he saw her. Amos was there too, although they were not sitting together, but he hesitated when he started to get up and lifted an inquiring eyebrow to April. She waved at both of them to come join her.
Amos took a moment to say his good-byes to Ruby and say how he enjoyed jamming with her. Barak loaded up pretty heavily. Amos kept it light.
"I'm taking the shuttle to ISSII and down," he explained when they sat. "I'll take the pill and it never bothered me, but eating light is always a good idea traveling."
"Are you glad you came, instead of some Earth vacation?" April asked.
"Yes, it wasn't at all what I expected. Which is good. Do you know, I only signed four autographs the whole time I was here? It was refreshing not to be mobbed. I had a few people pass me in the corridor and just wave and smile, or call out stuff like, 'Hey Amos. Prickly Prancing! Good song man'."
"Do you listen to our stuff?" Amos asked Barak, interested.
"Well yeah, I have four or five of your songs in my pad. I always listen to your new stuff. But I'm picky. I have maybe a couple hundred songs in a searchable file. Not like some kids that have ten thousand and can't remember what it sounds like when they see it in their list."
Amos smiled. "Then I'm glad you have any at all if you are a connoisseur. Your age is our target market. Should I send you a concert t-shirt or something?"
"Please, that would be nice. I'll never get down to see one and a shirt I'd use. I'm going to be taking a long trip soon and I can only take fifty kilo of mass, so it'll have to be all stuff I use."
"Where are you going? Mars? He quipped with a smile.
"Jupiter, we won't be anywhere near Mars when we go past its orbit."
Amos had that vacant look of waiting for a punch line. Then he realized...
"Nope, I'm still not acclimated," he admitted.
"Your mom decided to let you go?" April asked.
"Yeah, I think maybe she decided Jupiter is safer, if we have another war here."
"And she's probably right, if Mr. Singh gets involved," Amos said drolly. "Though I don't doubt you'll see the flash from there."
"Ah, I see you're getting to know Jeff," Barak surmised.
"Have you looked at the Earth news this morning?" Amos asked them.
"No, I wanted to enjoy my breakfast," April admitted.
"I don't waste much time on stuff I can't trust," Barak explained.
"The European news just reported the Assembly resolution factually. Although a lot of them didn't include the UN ultimatum letter. But in North America they got snarky. The Truth Information Network ran a headline, "Home resolution – April Fools Edition," he growled.
"That's cute you get indignant for us, but if you do ever immigrate you'll have to get used to being mocked. But thank you, really," April added.
"It's criminal stupidity to make people think it's a joke. It's going to be hard keeping my mouth shut when I go back."
"I think we'll see you back up here. Maybe sooner than you think," April predicted. "Where are your guards by the way?"
"I told them to meet me at the shuttle. I won't bother with them again for Home. Now when I went to New Las Vegas I was happy to have them, but they were a waste here. I have to catch that shuttle," he said getting up. Thank you for your company and many lessons."
"He seems a decent enough fellow," Barak allowed, watching him take his tray to dump. "What was he talking about with Ruby, about jamming with her?"
April described their visit to the Fox and Hare and their improvision together.
"I'll ask Ruby for a copy of that. I think that would be a keeper on my play list. Where is Gunny today?" He said, like he'd suddenly missed him.
"We're moving from my parent's cubic to my new place today. He's making sure the guys have finished the wall panels around his room correctly and they latch and go up and down like they're supposed to. He was going to take the last of his things over too. I had to promise I'd be extra alert to come here alone," she smiled.
"Do you need a hand with your things?" Barak offered.
"I've been moving things little bit at a time. I have a robo-cart to take the last today and I'll be moved."
"Let me walk with you anyway," Barak insisted. "Gunny would approve."
"Indeed he would," April agreed.
* * *
"Go home," April said, enunciating carefully. The rental cart eased out the door, a small light on the push bar flashing yellow to show it was in self guiding mode, not under human control. April closed the door and shoved the boxes out of the way with her foot. She didn't want to deal with them right now.
"This is all temporary, well most of it. I hadn't planned on having people in yet. The carpet and walls stay for awhile until I have some other projects paid," she said waving at them. "They're not that bad really. I kind of like them. Especially the end bulkhead that has the bamboo leaf pattern."
Barak planted himself on the couch as soon as the boxes were unloaded and was staring at Lindsey's drawing of Hu's near execution of the Lieutenant. April's words finally filtered through. He looked a little hurt.
"April, I'm not people. Do you really think I care about the carpet? I don't care if you have carpet. Just let me sit and look at this drawing a bit," he asked.
April sat on the other end of the couch and looked too. She still wasn't tired of it. She tried to imagine if people could get tired of a Picasso or a Rembrandt and put it away in storage or moved it to the guest bedroom.
"I'll take that off your hands, if it doesn't go with the new carpet," he offered.
"Thank you, sometimes I need to be reminded what's important."
"So the Santos are in their new place OK?"
"Yes, they had another couple, with kids no less, living here with them. I got the impression I wasn't supposed to know, so I have no idea if the renters got a place of their own or are still with the Santos. I could probably find out, but I'm reluctant to spy on a master spy. He might find out and resent I didn't just ask him." Barak just nodded.
"I haven't seen the new place. Mama-San is probably as obsessive as me and will want it perfect before she has company. Gunny suggested we send them a housewarming gift together, an Earth custom I wasn't familiar with, but it seems nice. When I looked on the web it was common to a lot of cultures."
"What could you get them, never having seen their place?"
"Well, Gunny doesn't have as much extra money free as me and I didn't want to stick them with something permanent they'd feel obligated to store and rush out to display if I came to visit. We sent them a fancy basket of fruit and cheese and candies and stuff. It'll get used up and likely everybody will find something they like in it. It beats a vase or hand towels. Zack's Chandlery put it together."
"I think that's a sweet custom. Will you be home this evening? I'd like to bring you a house warming gift."
"Yes, Gunny will be at the construction worker's cafeteria until late and I'd welcome the company, but don't you dare bring me some hideous big sculpture or something for a joke. If you do I'll re-gift it to your mom."
"I wouldn't think of it," he said, getting up to leave. "Maybe a puppy," he threatened over his shoulder with a devilish look. April just gave him a 'go on' wave.
* * *
"Did you have anything to do with this?" The General asked Col. Allister. He was pointing to the ITU notice to Home on the screen.
"Only in the most remote and untraceable way," he admitted. "We have some of the Chinese command circuits compromised and I sent orders to a European Chinese operative inside the ITU to initiate such a demand. It looked to him as if it came straight from Beijing, with every proper authentication. I didn't involve us, remembering your counsel that we are better off not engaging Home at this time. But isn't it sweet, having someone else keep the pressure on them?"
"And you feel this fell within my orders and see no possibility the Chinese will figure out something is amiss when orders start appearing on their system they didn't write?"
"They may know it happened, but they won't know how. Just to make sure, the agent who received the order and followed procedures perfectly by destroying all physical traces of his order, had an unfortunate accident. His car was run over by a commercial truck when the guidance computer in the truck took it across the center line while it was on the auto-drive net. It happened so suddenly the driver wasn't able to grab the wheel and steer it back into his lane."
"Where did this happen?"
"Germany. Nothing from the USNA touched the operation anywhere."
"Did you run a check on the German system and see how many of their heavy trucks have careened out of control lately?"
Col. Allister looked uncomfortable. "Yes, there have been six accidents involving heavy transport running on auto in the last seven years. One of them was fatal to the driver. He lost his front steering tire to delamination on a mountain road and it plunged through the guard rail and down a long drop. There were two other tire failures that resulted in the trucks leaving the road, but without injury, another truck crashed when the load was not secured properly and shifted. Of the remaining two crashes one involved snow on the road and the other was from another vehicle losing a load of laundry detergent on the highway. Both loss of traction accidents."
"How do you think they will explain this incident?"
"It will likely be thought a case of electronic interference. It was actually. We had a mobile unit briefly transmit a more powerful signal and override the net control. We've had another mobile unit driving around the area for a month, intermittently operating a spark gap transmitter, so there have been numerous reports of interference in that area, of radio and video transmission. The local police were well aware of it from their own radios, so it was certain to be noted in the investigation. The activity continued for a couple weeks and then stopped. So whatever was causing it will not have a time line that changed at the time of the wreck. It would appear some failing piece of equipment probably was repaired or failed finally and was finally replaced."
"Let us hope they believe so," the General prayed. "We were fortunate they moved away from earth after our satellite fired on them. They never made any kind of official acknowledgement it was our action, just shipped that idiot Lieutenant back to us to see if we'd embarrass ourselves with a public spectacle involving him. I'd have loved to see him crucified instead of a quiet unsatisfactory discharge. How would you like it if instead they had dropped a dozen weapons on us of the sort they used on Jiuquan?
"We have no indication they have a dozen of them."
"Do you have any positive indication they don't have a hundred?" the General asked sharply.
"No, the shops that fabricate their weapons and components are all small privately held businesses. Most deal with spacecraft and are much harder to penetrate than a corporate structure. The only agent we managed to get inside was killed in lunar orbit when the Lewis boy brought a ship over to us with Singh technology."
"Yes and he was so over confident he didn't even have our ship that rendezvoused with them stand off a couple kilometers while he cracked the case open on the fusion device."
"That was a shame. At least we have the video since it was relayed to Armstrong."
"I saw it. The Lewis kid's last words were: "You're going to kill us all," as I remember. This touching Home. It's dangerous," the General counseled.
"I very aware of that. We took elaborate precautions. It just seemed such a basic part of our ideals that it hurt to drop any action against Home. I've watched for any opportunity to deny them Earth goods, or ruin the market for their products. They have far too many friends willing to do business with them, some of them our nominal allies. Frankly some of their goods have no replacement. Trying to get other habitats to compete with them has gone badly. It requires massive investment, at a time of declining liquidity in the financial markets and transport to orbit is still at a premium this long after the war. A temporary dip in global sales has made potential investors worry they would soon have excess capacity on their hands."
"You've probably gotten away with this, but I want you to understand, don't let your frustration override common sense and take riskier measures. Especially, no assassinations. Not even on foreign territory by other nationals. Is that clear?"
"Yes. The Chinese tried that. Without any help from us," he hastened to add. "They not only lost their agent, he was killed artistically and clandestinely laid at their doorstep as a warning.
"Learn from that," the General warned. "Do not underestimate them."
* * *
The door alarm buzzed, making April jump. She'd never heard it before. That was going to have to change to something much less jarring. She went to answer it rather than just command it to open. Barak was standing in the corridor looking happy, with a courier bag over his shoulder and a big fabric shopping bag absolutely stuffed with things in one hand.
"Let me take that, where does it go?" April asked, reaching to take it.
"No, no, no. It's heavy. Lead on to the kitchen and we'll both unpack it."
"It isn't much of a kitchen," April said right away. "Two burners and a microwave and a little refrigerator with no freezer. When I do remodel it I'm going to do it right. Almost as capable as your mom's, but a little more compact, since I don't have as much room."
"It's entirely sufficient," Barak assured her. He tossed the courier bag on the sofa in passing and followed her with the big bag. There was a free standing counter that served as either prep area or a small serving table, with two adjustable stools, but they stood.
The shopping bag is part of the gift," he explained. "It is tent fabric basically, but rated vacuum safe and it will hold thirty kilo at one G." It was red covered with all different colors of little flowers.
He made a dramatic gesture of pulling items out and started lining them up on the table. There was a canister of pancake mix, the label saying it was Amish, which amused April to think food could be labeled as having a religious affiliation. Then a large tin of butter, a two liter jug of certified Grade A Vermont maple syrup, a bag of spicy sausage patties, precooked and individually sealed in Mylar envelopes. And most surprising, a pint of blueberries, not freeze dried, but fresh, some with the little stems still clinging to them.
"This had to cost a fortune," April protested. "The maple syrup alone!"
"I got my signing bonus for the snowball trip. I'm rich!"
"It's very nice," April admitted, somewhat overwhelmed, "and no puppy," she said gratefully, looking in the empty bag.
Somehow Barak had slid an arm around her waist and he leaned in very close, face to face.
"Woof!" he said gently. April just looked alarmed.
"I had in mind staying and making you breakfast," he said, if it wasn't plain yet.
"But, I've never even kissed you," April objected.
"Well that's one problem fixed," she admitted after awhile.
The next morning Barak was flipping pancakes in shorts and footies, bare chested. His hair wet from the shower. Gunny came out of his room still visibly half asleep.
"I thought I smelled pancakes," he said squinting. Then he took in Barak and April's state, standing together. He got a slow smile as he finally wised up.
"Barak, you dog, you," he muttered.
He had no clue why they broke up in hysterical laughter.
Chapter 15
"Look at this," Gunny said, sounding disgusted. He sent the news to April's screen.
Official State German News (translated) - Story picked up from Geneva News Now
The United Nations agency ITU, responsible for allocating slots for geostationary satellites and other standards since the days of telegraphy, denies issuing the notice to vacate their position to the orbital habitat of Home being show by many news agencies.
"Although we have searched, we find nothing in our records to indicate such a document was issued. The ITU does not issue unattributed news releases. It is however within our area of responsibility to manage the allocation of such resources and the Lagrange points are already home to translunar observatories and a vital resource that will be utilized more as space travel expands.
Although we have not asserted ourselves on this matter, factually, every point covered in the letter is true and proper. If anything we were remiss in being unaware Home was using such a slot unlicensed.
We intend to ask the Security Council to conduct an investigation, examine the possible origins of this communication and address the matters of policy it raises."
Carl Hecker, Secretary – General ITU
When asked why the e-mail header showed every intermediate transmission point and logs indicated it was received and passed on just as listed, Sec. Hecker could only say: "I have no idea. I'm an executive, not an IT person. I've never expanded a header in my life. My secretary usually removes crank mail, edits and prints my e-mails out, arranged by urgency for me."
"GN Now would like to point out Gunter Wu, Chief of Technology Operations for ITU was killed in a automotive accident recently in Germany. The driver of the truck involved was not injured and Mr. Wu had no passengers. ITU has yet to appoint a replacement. And although a minor point, we note the letter in question was not a news release, but a non-public communication with a government which is not a UN member. When asked if it all being 'true and proper' included the dated ultimatum, the ITU Spox didn't respond.
"That's the craziest denial letter I've ever seen," Gunny complained. "We didn't say it but it's true! I suppose whoever wrote it was a secret fan not a paid shill?"
"Or someone just wanting to stir up trouble. It bothers me I've seen this sort of thing before."
"Where?"
"On the gossip boards, when a teen age girl wanted to cause trouble for someone. They'd create a false account and try to make it look like a known person, using favorite phrases, or naming places she hung out. Trying to goad the target into attacking the one spoofed."
"I'm surprised you take the time to look at such garbage."
"I don't usually, but when something was happening, with Jeff or Heather, it used to tell me how public opinion was trending. I'd also look at business rating boards and adult gossip boards, even specialty boards, like for hobbies. But I haven't done it as much since I found out my gramps was paying a professional polling service to do studies on me. He made sure the questions weren't leading and they usually have pretty decent data."
"I had no idea, when did he start that?"
"When they got the idea to send me down to Earth as a propaganda piece. You didn't think it was my idea to take a solo vacation on the Mud Ball did you?"
"Silly me, yeah. Lots of people think visiting Hawaii is a wonderful vacation."
"I used to use those boards, to see how people regarded we three and how closely they associated us. But that was before and I don't really care what they think now. We have more assets and businesses and can't be hurt as easily by idle gossip."
"Yes, I've noticed you have a close association," Gunny said tactfully. When April seemed to think that closed the discussion and didn't say any more, he asked: "Barak isn't a problem in that equation?"
"Heavens no! Whatever would give you that idea?"
"Maybe it's lingering Earth Think, I don't know. But with a lot of people there would be issues of jealousy."
"Jeff has been working like a robot with no time for me. Or sleep for that matter. Barak hardly displaced him. Jeff and Heather and I have something that Barak wouldn't fit in. He can't have the same relationship to me as Jeff, it isn't his nature, I wouldn't expect it and Heather is his sister. There's no way it would balance including Barak. Both situations are unique, but can't overlap. Barak is nice, but he's about to head off for Jupiter and I won't see him for a long time. I might drop him a text, but he's going to be so far away the speed of light lag will even make conversations impossible. Wasting any energy pining for Barak is about as improbable as the idea I get tossed at me now and then, that my body guard is my secret lover."
"Well yeah," Gunny said blushing. "If that was true I'd want much more money."
That cracked April up.
"I'm glad you understand that about Barak's nature. I've seen a few guys and he has all the signs, who as they say, follow the wild goose. They may come home now and then, but not for long before they're off to some new adventure. So you may get breakfast made now and then, but not often or on any predictable schedule."
"Breakfast was our housewarming gift," April informed him. "Yours as well as mine I'd say, since you live here."
Gunny snorted through his nose. "More like his going away present."
"Well at least it was within his mass allowance," she said, grinning.
* * *
Jeff brought an unfamiliar man to Mo. "Al, this is our mining engineer, Mo Pennington, he's responsible for the layout and design of our tunnels. Al is an experienced beam dog. He's familiar with hard and soft suits, knows the hazards of vacuum and has mechanical skills from construction. But he's not acclimated to lunar gravity yet. However, he has the good sense and has been warned not to try fancy jumps or getting in trouble trying to move too fast when he hasn't got his moon gait yet. Al is going to help you finish up your current project and then I have another rush job for both of you."
"Fine, I need another four or five days here, even with help, then what are you sending us to do?" Pennington asked.
"A similar project actually. We need surface shelters for the rovers. Since the big tunnel machine is needed here and would take too long to run up to the surface, we need you to do it the old fashioned way, with explosives, although you can take the prototype machine up," he said, pointing it out for the new guy, "to sink a shaft to place the charges. And you'll need it for a man sized escape tunnel in case the front of the rover shelter is caved in."
"How deep?" Mo asked, frowning.
"More a matter of how long. It will be at surface level, with a slight rise inside and a couple dog legs and dead ends to absorb thrown debris and even limited plasma surge. It's to be bored into an escarpment in a ridge Happy owns. I've cleared it with him to put it on the edge of his mountain and access from the perimeter road."
"And the escape tunnel goes out the other side of the ridge?"
"Got it in one. The proto machine makes a big enough tunnel to go on hands and knees."
"In a suit? How far? That's tough crawling in a suit, they weren't designed to work easily with the knees and elbows bent at right angles."
"I know, but we'll put a cache of knee and elbow pads by the tunnel. If the alternative is staying buried, a four hundred meter crawl will suddenly look worthwhile."
"Would it be particularly difficult to make the floor fairly smooth?" Al asked.
"Define smooth," Jeff said, surprised his new man jumped into the conversation.
"Oh, surface features, dips or bumps of say four or five millimeters."
"Not at all. We can either squeegee down regolith mixed with vacuum cement to fill the dips, or we can run an abrasive disk with diamond studs through, to cut it flat. That's messy though and we'd have to flush the tunnel out to get rid of the dust."
"Do you know what a creeper is?"
"The tendril a plant extends growing? Jeff asked, wondering where this could be going.
"No, a flat sort of dolly, only a few centimeters high, that mechanics use to slide under a ground vehicle to work on things without lifting the vehicle. On their back," he added when there was no look of understanding on Jeff's face.
Jeff punched it in his pad and smiled when he saw it pictured. "That would work. Do you just push with your heels to move it along?" he asked.
"That, or you could string a cable from the roof and you could pull yourself along by hand to supplement pushing with your legs."
"I'll have four made up. They should be all native materials, so cheaper than importing knee pads. I wasn't sure you can get vacuum rated knee pads either. Thanks. Mo can explain what you're doing here, so excuse me," he finished, taking off.
"So, what are we doing here?" Al asked.
"This is the deepest current level we've tunneled," Mo informed him. "We are a kilometer and a half from the surface and we stopped cutting side tunnels and indeed temporarily filled a few side tunnels with debris to get as deep as possible in as little time as we could. We're cutting a shelter to hold the boring machine and three bomb shelters for thirty people each. They are quite cramped because they need to be to withstand overpressure from a typical nuclear device, ground burst at the surface or up to a hundred meters below the surface. That's why they have the polyangle walls," he said, turning to wave at the tunnel behind him.
"Does the current depth have some significance?"
"Yeah, it's as far as we had time to dig," Mo said grinning. "I plan to replicate this shelter if we get to three kilometers and again deeper."
"You expect an attack soon?" Al asked. Concern was written on his face. "Here?"
"Have you read the UN threats against Home?"
"I heard about them, but I'm not a Home citizen, so I didn't listen to the last Assembly. I'm not very political and I don't read the news much, because you can't believe it anyhow."
"Since Central is outside L1, our sovereign regards the UN proclamation as a threat here too. Thus the shelter. There are no large central rooms because they'd be weaker, but we can get the total cubic we need by adding more small tunnels. There is also a grid of even smaller tunnels in a sort of in ground canopy, arranged to break up the shock waves regardless of their orientation. They are backfilled with course rubble as that doesn't lessen their reflective acoustical properties, but keeps them from collapsing so much the overburden subsides. Also it was that much less rubble we had to take to the surface. I know you've never ran a boring machine like this, because ours are unique. I think I have time to show you the main controls before we break for lunch..."
* * *
"Well, we have those things you requested," Jeff said. "I had a dozen other things I'd rather spent the money on, but we have them if worse comes to worst. They'll be spread out in Earth orbit in four days, except I'm holding two back."
"They aren't on an powered vehicle are they? So how would you use them?"
"No and they're too heavy for the sort of small missiles Dave makes. They have a small rocket to nudge them out of orbit and then make a very short burn unit to make them accelerate through the last few kilometers of reentry when they are in most danger of being intercepted. That's plenty of delta V to do a lunar intercept however. I was thinking we have no idea what's going to happen on and around the moon and park two there."
"Ah, well, we have a few days before the Security Council meets. If somebody shows some sudden good sense and things quiet down, maybe we won't need them. You can always sell off a few, to recover some of the funds," April suggested, poker faced.
He knew it was only a bad joke, but Jeff still looked horrified at the idea.
* * *
The Security Council meeting was always televised. But it rarely had such an audience on Home. The big screen in the cafeteria showed it and it people met to watch where it could be discussed with friends over a snack, although it was late. Most lived in quarters too cramped for sharing with more than two or three friends. There was a similar viewing at the beam dog's cafeteria, in their game room. They favored stronger drink there, if they weren't too close to their next shift.
Wanda stayed late and was serving in the cafeteria and made extra cookies and muffins to put out on the buffet. There were the normal sandwiches and bag lunches for off shift too. She was overlapping shifts because she had a trainee, Brenda with her. The UN meeting happened to fall on their shift. They were going to three shifts and staying open all night instead of closing for six hours in the middle of what they called the off shift. The increased population and traffic warranted it. Brenda would do that late shift being new, because it was the slowest shift. Wanda second or fore shift and Ruby main shift, business hours.
Wanda set out popcorn too, something you usually had to order as a special. It might have been a bit of a sarcastic comment, on the circus atmosphere.
April elected to stay in her new cubic, inviting Jeff and Barak, Barak's mom Sylvia and the artist Lindsey. She sat refreshments out too, but no popcorn. Sylvia brought brownies unasked. This was the first time April had real guests, people she liked, but who weren't close as family.
Since Brussels time fell in the off shift for Home and Gunny and April had both tried to nap, wanting to be conscious for it. Gunny hadn't been able to sleep, mind racing and had decided to drink coffee rather than use a sleep aid.
It was really nice having Sylvia. April felt she was returning a long line of hospitality extended. And having older friends made her feel more mature in her own mind.
Lindsey seemed shy and much younger than April, although they were really very close in age. But she was just up from Earth and Earth society had reasons to keep their children infantile. There wasn't enough work for everyone and children cost less to carry the longer you could keep them under their parent's roof and off of the job market. Lindsey's mom had called to confirm she was invited, which her own mom would never have done.
When April introduced her to Lindsey she'd gone on in some detail describing Sylvia's sculpture and art work. Sylvia was wondering why, until April indicated the large drawing on the wall had been done by Lindsey. So she was a fellow artist and a very good one even as young as she was.
Sylvia sat and studied the drawing a long time. It was powerful and used techniques she hadn't seen before. She knew art, so she suspected that meant Lindsey had invented them for herself. She'd blushed when April attributed the drawing to her, so flustered Sylvia didn't try to discuss it with her. She simply didn't have the maturity or confidence in herself yet, to be able to engage a strange adult in a discussion about her methods. In the near future perhaps. She was at that awkward age where some girls are overwhelmed with self consciousness, but it usually passed in a year or so if someone didn't hammer her daily and reinforce it.
The Chairman of the Security Council was from Russia this year. He brought the meeting to order and introduced the request from the ITU as urgent business. The temporary members of the council didn't look happy. Perhaps they'd all read Homes declaration that they'd be held responsible for their vote. A couple of them had no space capacity and were physically small enough in territory that one large nuclear device would leave them a literal parking lot.
The member from Argentina was recognized. He spoke slowly, like he was speaking extemporaneously and wanted to be sure of his words.
"This is irregular. We have an anonymous letter, which if it tells us anything, speaks to a lack of good security within the ITU. Can I simply leave an unsigned letter before the Chairman's seat when we are in recess and expect it to be taken up as business? If it is such a wonderful idea why didn't these things occur to the ITU without prompting? Are they so unaware of their mission and authority they need their elbow jiggled to do their duty? I for one want to know who is behind this action. It is most serious to speak of enforcing such a thing when we can't examine the motives of the party behind it and how it serves them. Is there any point to kicking these people out of their chosen location? Is there some other entity waiting to utilize the space? Or is this just a bully's demonstration of empty authority for its own sake? Argentina will need a lot more information before we vote yea." He sat down.
"The Chair recognizes the ambassador from Iceland."
"For much the same reasons as Argentina, Iceland finds this entire affair smells like a week old Cod. We don't need to hear any more really. We'll be voting no." He didn't need notes.
"The Chair recognizes the member from China."
China rehashed the old controversy of Jeff landing the Dionysus' Chariot in Antarctica when testing it, the same old accusations of piracy back to the beginning of Home's war for independence. And finished up with their first public revelation that they had been bombarded and their spaceport destroyed. They finished with the assertion that this dog must be brought to heel. A comparison that didn't endear them to anyone on Home.
"The Chair would hear the member from North America," the Russian said.
"The United States of North America is in agreement with many of the sentiments expressed by the representative from China. I would not characterize or relationship with home as friendly. However, we find ourselves in a treaty agreement with the nation of Home. One's word must mean something, even given to a rogue. Therefore my government has given me firm instructions to abstain from entering a vote on this matter." He sat down to shocked silence.
The ambassador from China was furious. He made no effort to hide it either. He turned and gave instructions to his deputy.
The Chairman called upon the representative of The United Kingdom. While that speaker droned on at mind numbing length about the importance of everything being done in proper order and respect for authority, the Chinese deputy got up and walked around the arch of seats to the temporary member from Pakistan. The camera operator followed him, aware the important action was not with the speaker.
The deputy leaned close, in his face really, holding his thumb on the mute button of the man's microphone. He loosed an unfriendly tirade upon the Pakistani ambassador. When the Chinese fellow walked away the older man looked stunned. He soon had a phone to his ear consulting someone, his own deputy leaning close and looking worried. Nobody else seemed to want to debate the question further.
"The Americans just screwed up the vote count and the Chinese just laid down the law to Pakistan about what it will cost them to vote against it, or even abstain," Jeff said.
"What would it cost them?" Barak asked, innocently.
"Probably a new border, much further west than the present one," Jeff guessed. "I think at least Kashmir and Jammu and probably all the Northern Territories, although why anyone in their right mind would want them is a good question. The Indians are going to be very unhappy, because no way are the Chinese taking that area without rolling over territory disputed with India. Which would give India a lot more border with China than they want. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if China goes south too and half way to encircling India. Pakistan would be about two thirds of what it is now, much poorer and need a new capital. China would control their water resources, which is really ugly," he concluded.
"I thought when there was a coup and China got a new government we'd settled this hostility with them for awhile, at least a few years," April objected.
"In a coup there are usually one or at most a handful of people driving it. Sometimes the actions a nation is taking, is one bullet, or even an old man's stroke, away from reversing course. We never did know who specifically brought down the old regime," Jeff explained.
"Here comes the vote," Sylvia called their attention back.
Yes, yes, yes, no, abstain, no, yes, yes...The vote came to Pakistan. The older ambassador stood, looking stricken. "I find myself ill, with a sudden nasty attack of conscience. I resign and appoint my deputy to my post temporarily," he turned and walked away without a further word to the younger man, who spoke from his seat and voted yes.
Yes, yes, abstain, abstain, yes. That made nine, enough to pass it. But the vote came to France. April held her breath, because France had a veto and she considered them friendly to Home. All they had to say was no and this went away. Then if China wanted to pursue it they had to do so openly and on their own, not under cover of the UN's authority.
The gentleman from France stood, indifferent to the glare from the Chinese delegate. "My government spoke with me at length about this. We share most of the views expressed so well by the ambassador from Argentina. However, my minister told me if we vote no, using our veto, the matter really remains unresolved. The limits of authority will not be clearly defined, even if some member state takes action on their own," he said, looking at China. "France discovered some years ago that we are not destined to rule the world. It was a long and difficult lesson. Some states still think that their destiny, indeed see no limits to their ambitions, wanting to claim everything around our sun. One speculates their appetite would not be quelled even then, seeking to send their authority to the stars when that day comes. Sometimes when you see a friend in error it is folly to keep pulling him back from the brink. At times you have to let them try the fire and see that they aren't immune from having their fingers burnt. It's a kindness to let them find that out while the price is low, rather than protect them until the cost is their existence. France abstains and France will not provide blood or treasure to this adventure. If you think to ad us to a list for punishment, we remind you we have much more than a veto in these councils. France still retains a nuclear arsenal and other weapons of significance. If you wish to see how modern and formidable our military is then you will have more than Home to deal with. I suspect you are going to find them alone, more than you bargained for," he concluded and sat.
"Damn, I thought France would kill it," April complained.
"He may be right," Sylvia decided. Although her brow was scrunched up and she was far from happy with it. "Time to settle it before the cost runs into billions of lives and winning might do so much damage it leaves us and the other habs with nobody able to lift us supplies."
On the screen, they were assigning responsibility to plan the implementation to a committee who would meet in a more private venue. They ignored it at April's gathering. There were only two UN members capable of trans lunar work, China and the USNA. It appeared any support the Americans would give would be grudging and symbolic, given their abstention and statements about treaty obligations. That pretty much left the ball in China's court.
Chapter 16
"I plan to wait until we see UN flagged ships actually come past L1. Then I intend to drop three five hundred ton weapons on as many buildings in the Geneva UN campus, including the one housing the ITU. It won't be as thorough as I'd like, but it will minimize damage to the surrounding town. We have nine other sites we wish to target and we'll hit them in the middle of that night to further limit damage. But the ITU and the Geneva campus get hit first, about ten hundred local time. I hope every Chinese butt kissing bureaucrat is sitting at his desk contemplating what he'll have for lunch."
"You aren't going to issue any more warning?" Muños asked Jon.
"We told them there wouldn't be any more talk, that a state of war would exist. They better learn to listen up and understand we don't keep yapping like them."
* * *
"I'm leaving tomorrow, main shift and just wanted to say goodbye. You can drop text to my normal address and it will still get routed to me OK," Barak assured April.
"I thought you weren't going for a few more weeks? What happened?"
"They got everything ready and the owners are nervous about the UN. None of them think they will wait out that ninety day notice in the original message, now that they have their vote. They repudiated that original message anyway and didn't release any new official date. We don't have any narrow exit window to leave, so we might as well go. I'm just as glad. I'm kind of nervous thinking about it. I've been away to Earth, but it was with friends, this feels strange going off with people I just met and my mom is even teasing she might not keep her new guest room, since I'll likely be gone a year and a half. More even if we don't find a good snowball quickly and get the drives mounted up. I mean, I still want to, but it's a big deal."
"Are you off celebrating with the crew tonight?"
"Oh no. They all want to say goodbye to family and friends. We'll see plenty of each other soon enough!"
"Then perhaps you'd like to come make me breakfast. Last chance before you go."
There was a pause like he didn't believe it. "That sounds really nice. What time should I come over?"
"Right now is fine. You're making breakfast. I'll make us supper," she offered.
"Can you come see me off at the lock tomorrow?" he asked shyly.
"I have nothing at all to keep me from doing so," she promised.
She actually heard him sigh over the phone. "I'll be right over."
He had his duffle all packed for his trip with him and a pint of fresh raspberries from Zack's in the other hand.
"You didn't have time to go get these," April accused him.
"I'd have left them in my mom's refrigerator," he evaded. "They'd have gotten used."
"Is she going to worry where you are?"
"I don't even know if she'll be home tonight. She didn't ask where I'd been the last time I didn't sleep at home."
"When was that?"
"The last time I was here. Did you really think my mom was ready to rent it out for a hot slot I'm gone so often?" he asked, amused.
"I think you could," April said, sliding her hands around his waist. "But I'm glad you don't."
"You, do not look like a woman who wants to cook supper."
She just smiled.
* * *
"It's awfully tight," Johnson complained. His rover was pulled up close, but not inside the opening. It appeared he only had a half meter or a bit less clearance on each side. So it was a bit over a three meter opening. They were outside in suits, eyeballing it. The opening was actually a little higher than the surrounding surface and a ramp went to each side. Inside it had a slope up too. That should help them get out if there was debris blocking.
"Just at the entry," Mo assured him. We don't want a big entry funneling any blast inside."
"Why do I have to back in?"
"The front is sturdier with the port covers down. The heat exchanger fins and stuff on the back are easier to damage."
"If you get actual plasma flow into the entry in hard vacuum, you'd have to be inside the actual edge of the fireball," he objected.
"Yes, but nobody has ever seen how much heat transfer or concussion a nuclear fireball has in vacuum as it expands. Surely sometime before it cools below incandescence it is survivable. It's still glowing when it would be regarded as a fairly good vacuum on Earth."
"Alright, but I need either a camera on the back, or rearview mirrors. I'm not some long distance trucker who can back a big rig up and stop an inch from the edge of the dock."
"They'll be on in three hours tops when we get back to Central," Mo promised. "I'll call ahead and have them start getting the materials ready. We'll do the other rover too."
"This was a good idea," Johnson admitted. He was looking at the huge boulder Mo blew off the side of the mountain further up. It was a good ten meters wide and six meters high. Some unknown portion was driven down into the regolith. It was leaning a bit crooked, but it was in a direct line between Central and the tunnel entry. The gap from boulder to vertical rock face was a little less than it was square, eight and a half, maybe nine meters. "What if it had landed too close to the rock face to get your little tunneling machine between them?"
"We were worried about it rolling further away from the face too. It did a half flip and really dug in when it landed. I'll show you the video we took of it falling. No way it was rolling anywhere. We had two other potential sites picked out each way. But we lucked out and it was usable first try. We're loading you up with extra supplies. There are some already in the back of the shelter. When we go on alert you'll come out here and the 'B' rover with no gun backs in first. The armed rover backs in next and you sit inside out of sight from orbit until the danger passes or we send you out to shoot. It's seven hundred meters south to a point you can see either east or west horizon. If you go, you shoot the rounds and numbers we give you and you should be back here backing into the hole in three minutes, then you sit and wait. We have a laser link on the other side of the rock pointing at a mast at Central."
"And what if we are bombarded and lose contact with you?"
"We will be responsible for digging ourselves out. You'll have about two months of food. I'd check at least daily to see if we've dug out by walking out with a handheld. Let's say noon Zulu time daily. Or set a handheld out and run a line back inside. If we aren't out by two months then you can come out and call Home to see if they can send a shuttle, or you can drive to Armstrong. If you start out while you still have a week of food the French base is reachable."
"Assuming Home is still there and we don't call down a strike on us just by calling."
"Well I'd listen a bit first. See what the chatter is."
* * *
It was a press in the north spindle. Either the snowball entrepreneurs didn't want to pay to use the south dockage or they honestly hadn't anticipated what a mob there would be to send six people off. April mentioned to Jeff she was seeing Barak off and he immediately said he'd come too. They looked at the mass of people, all of them spacers, so they were oriented every which way in zero G and comfortable with it.
"There's still some room on that bulkhead," April said pointing.
"Yeah, I see it. You first," Jeff invited.
April jumped for it, but gently. It was so crowded somebody else might be on a trajectory she'd intersect and two bodies moving fast could result in injuries. She looked back and Jeff was following. Good. If he waited until she landed the space might be full.
The bulkhead was positioned to see the airlock, that was great. She had on sticky footies and gloves. She landed flat footed and bent her knees, recovering slowly. The footies stuck. Jeff landed nearby but further away than he wanted to be.
"Give me an assist here will you?" He rolled his feet sideways and peeled them off the bulkhead, but had almost no velocity away from the surface. April grabbed a handful of fabric at the small of his back and tugged gently. She brought him closer and turned him a little to face the same way, then gave a long slow tug to bring him down. He bent his legs until he had some drift and then planted his feet on the surface too.
There was a bit of hooting and a few whistles. One of the snowball crew came through, blushing at the attention. Towing a duffle and on a trajectory for the security station. She lit near it grabbing a take-hold and was the center of a cluster briefly, getting pats, hand touches and a few hugs. She touched the DNA reader checking off the hab and gave a little wave before she disappeared through the privacy curtain into the lock. Above the security station it said, Departure: Yuki-onna. Return: 500 days +.
Sylvia appeared at the spindle entry, grabbing a take-hold bar and looking around the cylinder. When she saw Jeff and April waving she smiled and jumped for them, about twice as fast as April had dared. She landed facing them and touched hands.
"Are you here to see Barak off?"
"Yes, isn't this crazy for six people?" Jeff asked.
"Four actually. Barak said the Command Pilot and his number two went aboard early and are holding the ship off about a half kilometer for the shuttle to bring the crew over."
"Oh! It isn't docked right on the spindle?" April asked surprised.
"No, he said it masses so much fueled up and has the center of mass so far off the airlock, they had no desire to try to dock. Barak said it could kiss at ten centimeters a second mismatch and it would still probably damage the spindle in slow motion. Sylvia looked at them funny.
"I thought he'd be with you guys and you'd all come up here together."
"I thought so too," April said, "but he announced he had something else he wanted to take along, called to arrange it and ran out the door before me."
"There he is," Jeff called out, forestalling any further questions from Sylvia.
Barak had his duffel and a long thin tube. He touched hands with a few people around the entry, looked around and jumped for them. He landed and hugged his mom.
"Thank you again for letting me do this."
"Just do a good job and come home safe. This will look wonderful on your resume. And take some pix. I may do some work off them if you bring back something dramatic."
Barak lifted a foot and replanted it expertly, pivoting toward April. She didn't restrain herself to a hug in public and gave him a very thorough kiss. To the point it got a few hoots from the crowd. Sylvia looked a little flustered, looked at Jeff gauging his reaction. He was grinning. And then looked around at the crowd. April didn't spoil it by trying to talk after a kiss like that. Barak shifted again and grabbed Jeff in a bear hug.
"Be careful out there brother," Jeff said, into his ear, beating him on the back gently with a fist. "We have a lot of other stuff to do when you come back."
Barak looked like he was tearing up a bit, just nodded, turned and touched his mom again on the arm and jumped for the security station. They watched until he went through the lock. He didn't turn and wave or look back.
Sylvia might have been tearing up a bit too, but she asked April, "Do you know what he wanted to take at the last minute?"
"He called the ship builder and asked what the biggest flat surface in his cabin measured. Then he sent a pic off his pad to the office supply and had them print out a poster with a sticky back a half centimeter smaller. It was a pic of all of us lounging around, sun bathing on the bow of the Tobiuo down on Earth. You can see everybody's face and the atoll is a line of sand and coconut palms from one edge of the picture to the other behind us. I think it's one of the few we had a crewman take for us that had everybody in it."
There was a brief fuss as another of the crew arrived and they watched it.
"I'm headed home," Sylvia told them, "would you kids like to have lunch at my place?"
"That sounds good," Jeff said right away. "I didn't have any breakfast." He raised inquiring eyes to April.
"Sure, I always learn something, every time you cook for me," April said and slid a hand into the crook of Jeff's arm.
Sylvia made an 'after you' gesture with a sweep of her hand. April and Jeff jumped for the spindle entry together. Sylvia watched them a little before she followed, they didn't tumble and just flew true with April's hand still in the crook of his arm. Well, they've done that a time or two, Sylvia thought to herself. She was still trying to figure out the social dynamics of this group. She was of a different generation and more importantly of Earth roots, no matter how much of Earth culture she rejected. However it worked, she couldn't see anything malicious in their personal or business dealings. She had a strong feeling Barak was well served to be attached to them.
* * *
"Jon, we have a relayed message from the Larkin's Line shuttle Coney Island in transit from ISSII to New Las Vegas, that four lander style vessels have left a Chinese military space station and appear to be making a lunar insertion as a group."
"Thank you Manny. Has Local Control received any unusual advisories or traffic from Earth Control or the other habs?"
"No, but you know the civilian side doesn't control military traffic," he reminded him.
"I understand. Thanks for keeping me informed." Jon picked a few addresses and touched an icon. "Heather, you might like to know you have four Chinese visitors coming."
"No Americans?"
"Not unless they were invited to dock at the Chinese station and nobody saw them sneak over."
"Ha! As if they'd let filthy barbarians touch their dock. Forget that. I'd bet the UN told the Americans they had to contribute and they had an unfortunate last minute computer failure or an infestation of bed bugs and needed to fumigate. Do you know if they are armed?"
"I've been searching Jane's while I called you and they don't say. But four lunar capable shuttles is all the Chinese own. They've bet everything on this."
"I'm willing to assume they are armed, because of the UN vote. It's too dangerous to assume otherwise. How would they enforce the order without arms? If they voted to use force on us and then send unarmed ships... Well that will be fatally stupid. I may just ask them if they are armed. The Chinese are so belligerent, they may just tell me yes, in most profane terms."
"You have the militia shop Flash Gordon sitting backside as a spotter for you, right?"
"Yes, they agreed to get us targeting data. He can probably get it sitting passively, because we expect them to be actively running their radar. He has two interceptor missiles. The guy is so crazy he'd probably engage four ships with two missiles."
"How many missiles do you have?"
"Don't you worry about that," Heather said a little testily.
"Sorry, I'm thinking on calling some of the militia back to defend Home. I only wanted to know if we should share them with you. No offense intended. I hate to pull them off freight runs and strand passengers. We have the projectors Mrs. Singe built, but they might not hit a ship before they've released weapons and the smaller weapons are even harder to hit. They really work better for Terrestrial targets. We don't have any missiles defending Home. We didn't change our strategy from when we were in LEO and there was always lots of militia close."
"Thank you, but I intend to support you. We have a lot more rock between us and them than you do. I believe we can do quite well, thank you."
"I hope so. But if one of us eats a missile, it has been an honor working with you."
"Thanks, you have April and Jeff there. They decided not to come here when everything moved up ahead of schedule and neither would go to another hab. Turns out the Chinese came so early they'd have never made it anyway. Try to take care of them and yourself. And even if we get hit, be aware we're pretty deep and we have a tunnel boring machine to dig out. There will be some parties on the surface that might be calling you too."
"Not everybody is going to shelter?" Jon asked. He obviously didn't like the sound of that.
"They have jobs to do. I don't want to say any more. I'm going silent now before I have hostile ships in my sky."
"OK, done from this end too." Jon said and shut his com link down.
* * *
Mr. Wycliffe and Mr. Remington, refugees from North America via the moon and the French hab affectionately known as The Turnip, ate supper and compared notes on their employment and fortunes.
The fact they could eat together was one improvement. The first month only Fred bought a cafeteria card and then after eating got a lunch pack with as much extra as he could grab off the buffet to take back to Jess, now John, in the tiny one bed apartment they shared. It was so small one slept on the floor and had to sit up if the other wanted out of bed. They took turns.
He was afraid the cafeteria ladies would figure out he was feeding somebody and challenge him. Instead when they noticed they bumped up the portion size. When John bought his own card they didn't comment on his sudden loss of appetite.
"I got promoted to warehouse supervisor," John bragged. "The old supervisor got promoted to management. He was very happy with how I laid out the bins so the few items sold most frequently were kept closest to the packing station. It was laid out in random bins with computer records to find it before. Superficially that is logical, you never have many empty bins, but you never save steps either. That improved productivity enough they didn't have to replace me when they promoted me. So I supervise three guys spread over three shifts and actually help the one on main shift. I not only get a raise I get a little extra for being on call to answer my phone if the other two run into a problem off shift."
"I'm still in the same job description," Fred said, "but they have me loading the fastener racks for construction workers. The rivets come up a hundred to a box in thin cardboard boxes. I have to put them in a plate that holds each one secure and lets a guy in a hard suit get a grip on one with his over-gloves," he demonstrated on the pepper shaker.
"If you don't pay attention and make sure each one is secure you can have one float loose. They pay more for loading them and the last guy had two float off in the same month. So he lost the position. They don't rush you, because it costs a lot more to run down a rivet floating free. They get fined if they don't track it down and recapture it and from what they tell me they can be really rough to find if they get very far or get in a shadow somewhere."
"I've been watching the job ads," John mentioned too casually.
"So have I," Fred said. "I want to move up eventually, but I want to work six months, so I don't get a reputation as a job hopper."
"That makes sense. My foreman has complained about that a few times. He was quite upset with a young guy who quit before he was even done training him. But I'm thinking about formally renouncing my USNA citizenship. Most of the really good jobs have security concerns and they often say right in the ad, no continuing USNA attachment. I wondered how you'd feel about that?"
"That's none of my business. It's a big decision, but up to you. It doesn't concern me."
"If I reveal I'm on Home it doesn't take much thinking to figure you are probably here too. I didn't know if that would be a concern anymore," John explained.
"If they really wanted to find us they have the assets. It doesn't take much to see we bought a shuttle ride here and haven't left. I wouldn't try too hard to hide where you are. It's not worth the effort. Even if we left under a different identity, where would we go? No way are we going to sneak through Earthside customs anywhere with just a name change. I'm still much more worried somebody from the moon will see us here and ruin it for us."
"OK, I wanted to make sure you were good with it."
"I'm not ready myself, but I don't have any problem with it. I may eventually do it for a different reason."
"Oh really? What's that?"
"I want to sign up to pay Home taxes so I can vote in the Assembly. Last Assembly I followed everything and I had a real itch to vote," Fred admitted.
"Did anything get passed you'd have liked to see overturned?
"Not yet, but there may be sometime. And then is too late to sign up with the vote counting down to a close."
"Huh, that's a bigger deal than my reason. I'll have to think on that."
* * *
"I have to stand a bridge watch tomorrow," Deloris said. She was eating spare ribs with such dainty precision she had just a few smudges of sauce on her finger tips and not a mark around her mouth. Barak was glad he'd passed on them. He'd have sauce everywhere, probably in his hair even and need a shower by the time he was done.
"Do you get to work with our Captain?" Barak asked. "I had him call me in and got to speak with him for maybe five minutes when I boarded. He told me he is there for me, if I have any problem I can't solve myself. I clearly got the message if I can't solve my own problems it will be seen as a defect and he didn't want to hear or see me very often."
"That sounds about right. I might say six words to him when he hands off the conn to me. Perhaps he'll add a comment if a system is trending away from previous performance. The XO isn't any chattier if I'm relieving her. When we are at constant thrust we only need one person on watch and he does any course corrections on his shift. I'd have you up to see, but untrained personnel on the bridge are considered a distraction rather than an asset."
"Yeah, I'm not qualified for any bridge duty. I'm pretty much supercargo (ice rigger)," he said, forming the parentheses in the air. I understand I'm supposed to be available for some support work. Lab tech and an extra hand for maintenance. Nobody seems in any hurry to train me."
"Whatever will you do all day?" she asked, with a smile that made him squirm. She was little. So petite in fact he imagined she had to have her p-suit custom made. Her hair was a deep chestnut, what little a spacer could afford to keep and her eyes were a deep hazel too. She had very thick eyebrows, not trimming them like some girls do. Overall very pretty, in a girlish sort of way and probably going to be quite beautiful when she matured. He suddenly realized he was studying her instead of answering and blushed. She didn't seem to mind.
"I am studying quite a bit and I intend to do a lot of photography both in the Yuki-onna and outside. My mom is an artist and might do some work from the images. I thought I might do some writing also."
"Oh, are you keeping a journal of the voyage?"
"That's an interesting idea, but I tend more to poetry."
"Really?" she looked at him like she hadn't seen him before. There wasn't any sarcasm in it though. "I've read some poetry for my studies, but it seemed all Earth oriented and I've never been down to Earth, so it was hard to relate to it. Have you been down?"
"Yes, very recently in fact. I went down for a vacation with a bunch of friends. It was a difficult adjustment the first few days. It helped we didn't take a conventional shuttle and have to deal with customs and a crush of people at first. We did an ocean landing and met a very nice sail boat for a private cruise. Just getting my head wrapped around how big it is, standing there on a big ball but the curvature is so slight it feels like you are in the middle of a vast flat plane."
She nodded acknowledgement, but kept eating.
"I have pix of the trip on my pad. We certainly have the time, I'll show you if you like. I even had one shot printed and covered the biggest bulkhead in my cabin with it. I'm fond enough of it to think I won't grow tired of it in a year or two."
"I'd have just displayed it on my screen."
"It's bigger. I suppose I get my taste for hard copy from my mom. She works in sculptured glass panels. They are not only a static display, they weigh several hundred kilo too."
"Alright, I'm done," she said wiping her hands on a sani-wipe, "why don't you show me this print? I'm interested."
Barak got the uneasy feeling she was interested, but not primarily in the print. She was older than him, twenty three or twenty four, but another one with Life Extension Therapy so she looked sixteen. He felt out of his depth socially with her and a bit intimidated.
The cabin was tiny. He had a table that doubled as a com console with a seat and a fold up chair hanging on the wall for guests, but she sat on the edge of the bunk, which admittedly was less than a meter further away than the chair and a very good viewing distance.
Barak unfolded the cloth chair and sat in it, commanding the lights for the best illumination of the print. Jeff, April, Heather, Gunny and he sat or reclined in the foredeck of the Tobiuo. It was beautiful mahogany deck, though he knew there was composite beneath it. He was laying on his side, propped up in one elbow. Jeff was sitting leaning forward slightly, knees in the air, heels together, with a dreamy look, a drink by his feet. April was sitting Yoga style feet tucked over her knees and laughing. He was beside her looking up at her smiling. Heather was stretched out on April's other side, ankles crossed, limp as a cat, using one of April's knees for a pillow. Gunny had one leg straight and his other leg up, with his arms wrapped around his knee. He had a beer bottle in one big hand and nobody he'd ever known had that flat and muscular a stomach sitting down, not even guys half his age. He looked like an illustration in a medical book for muscle groups. Everybody looked happy and content and every face was turned pretty much toward the camera. It was his favorite picture.
"These are all your friends?" Deloris asked.
"Yes. This is Jeff Singh. He's very smart in certain ways. Very inventive and detail oriented. He leased some of the tech for our ship to the partners. This is April, she isn't as smart as Jeff on tech, but she can be insightful in unexpected ways. She will often suggest things Jeff or Heather wouldn't have thought of, but they have the ability to actually make them work. Heather is my sister. She partnered with Jeff for several years before April became associated with them. She is very much the practical techie and can fabricate things, but especially electronics."
"How close is 'associated'?" Deloris wondered.
"They are partners in a number of business ventures." He considered how much he owed Deloris. She was his shipmate. "They shared the same cabin on ship," he added.
"Is that an exclusive arrangement?" Deloris asked, plainly.
"No," he said simply. That possibility had not occurred to him before. It must have shown in his pause, because Deloris paused too, considering her words carefully.
"Why are you all naked?" she asked.
"We were in the tropics. It is oppressively hot. Thirty seven to thirty eight degrees at times and very high humidity. Lin follows what he called French boat rules. As long as we are away from land or other boats clothing is optional. The crew does the same, working the rigging and standing watch at the wheel. When we are anchored you can dive in and swim, or go below and shower in fresh water if it gets to you."
"I don't know much of anything about boats," Deloris revealed, "and what does the humidity have to do with it?"
"Ah, when it is hot if the humidity is high it makes it very hard to cool off because your sweat doesn't evaporate. It helps there was frequently a breeze blowing though."
"I'm used to a controlled environment. OK, the big guy there is sort of shiny. I thought maybe he was oiled down, but he's probably sweaty. Who is he connected to?"
"He's April's body guard, but I count him a friend too. He really likes being on the boat, so he came down even though we only spent one day where there were any people to speak of. So he really didn't have much guarding to do."
"He looks, capable," she admitted. "Does he wear sleeveless shirts and stuff to show off those muscles when he's clothed?"
"Oh he's capable. April described him as just like Jon, head of Security on Home. Sudden death in both hands," he said, making two fists. "I've never seen him wear anything revealing. In fact he's remarkably conservative and modest in attitude."
"Are you 'associated' with April too?" she asked, not too subtly.
"Yes. I've been terribly fond of April since I was about eight years old."
"It's a long voyage away from April. Are you open to other 'associations', even if they may of necessity be temporary?"
"I, uh, think so," Barak said, flustered, "but I have to tell you, I'm a bit intimidated by you. You aren't that much older than me, but I can tell you have a lot more self confidence and, how can I say? You're more skilled socially. I feel like you direct the conversation where you want it to go and I don't know how to do that. I'm old enough to see that you do it, but not experienced enough to do it myself. I know you must have had LET, because you look as young as me, but you wouldn't have a ticket to sit the conn on this ship if you didn't have a few more years. You're what? Twenty three? Twenty four? I'm just what I look like. I haven't started LET and I won't now until I get back. So don't expect me to be your equal in a lot of ways. I want us to be friends, but I don't want you to manage me. If you do I'll resent it when I figure out what happened. Do you see my problem?"
"Yes. So, do you want me to be brutally honest?"
"I can handle that, totally. My friends there," he waved at the print. "Have honesty down to a science that puts brutal at the mild end of the spectrum."
"OK," she agreed, settling back like this wouldn't be a short discussion, "there are six of us on this ship. The Captain and XO were already an item before they started building her. They had a very limited number of people apply to be crew. They picked for skills and willingness to go and didn't of necessity try for great psychological matches."
"I'm sure you are sane, in good physical health and have sufficient intelligence to be safe doing outside work in a suit. You are a bit younger than me and yeah, you aren't a polished operator socially. Now the hard truth. The only other male is the engineer/ back up astrogator, Harold Hanson. He thinks he is smooth, which totally ruins it and has already hit on me hard, more or less intimating he will gift me with his glorious attention since there isn't much of an alternative."
"He apparently doesn't favor the environmental and science officer, Alice. So I'd like to make an association with you, as you put it, before you latch onto Alice. A social contract if you want to so regard it. Limited engagement, no ties implied after we get back unless it is mutually agreeable. If we are visibly paired, Mr. Hanson will likely get off my case. With a little bit of luck he will bow to the inevitable and direct his attentions to Alice, who if she isn't made of stone will accept that as better than nothing. He doesn't smell and is reasonably fit. He must pass for what the shrinks consider sane, but I don't like him. I'm picky enough I will take nothing as an alternative. Brutally honest enough?"
"I didn't assume we'd all pair up like this. I have to admit, I tend to think of that a little bit as Earth Think. Why do you say there weren't many applicants? I thought there would be lots."
"They really aren't paying much. It may seem like a lot to you, but not to a licensed pilot capable of deep trans-lunar work. And it's more or less an experimental craft, not terribly comfortable, with too small a crew to sort out the social dynamics I'm showing you. I think they are simply counting on us being too sane to kill each other in a year and a half, even if we all come back hating each other's guts."
"I'm looking at it as being a gem on my resume later, more than for the money right now."
"Me too," she admitted. "When somebody finally makes a starship, I'm betting successfully completing a long slow voyage in cramped stressful conditions will be a great recommendation to be on the crew. As to the other. Most people still think in terms of being couples. If your friends don't and make it work successfully, they are still a minority, even off Earth. I'll give you this much, if Alice can't stomach Hanson and comes to you for relief I won't get all possessive with you. Understand, I'm not volunteering for a ménage à trois , but you better think carefully on it. That just might drive Hanson to murder in a year and a half, if he figures it out."
"If they hadn't moved the launch date up so abruptly we'd have met each other a couple times face to face. Maybe that would have been better. I was certainly surprised how tiny you are. That didn't come across on video."
"Or I might have dropped out if I met Harold face to face and thought too much about spending a year and a half with him. Then you'd have launched with my back-up. I don't even know who that would have been."
I don't know why Harold would reject Alice," Barak said scrunching his eyebrows up. "But of course I don't really know her either. She certainly isn't ugly in any way."
"I suspect she is too smart to be charmed by a glib presentation," Deloris suggested.
"Smart is very attractive," Barak protested. "Who wants to spend a long time struggling to be polite with a stupid person? Maybe this is silly of me to ask, but I take it, as little as you know about me, you've already decided you like me OK? At least more than Hanson?"
"Oh yeah, he irritated me within the first minute I saw him and it didn't get any better. You don't stare at me with a creepy expression. You stare, but it's happy, not creepy. You talk about friends, not just about yourself. You aren't bragging on how much money and influence your friends have and I've seen them speak in the Assembly and know those are some high-powered friends you have. That you find smart attractive is just charming and you talk about writing poetry, not some inane Earthie sports team as an interest. And if you don't own a mirror, I'll have to be the one to tell you, you're as cute as a damn puppy too."
It was a long time before he could stop laughing. She looked perplexed. But he promised, in the spirit of brutal honesty, he'd tell her the story, sometime in the next year and a half...
Chapter 17
"Heather, Tim Houston in the Flash Gordon reporting. We just had four vessels cross our position almost directly overhead, but about three degrees inclination to the equator. So they will cross you nearly overhead too in about twenty minutes. We waited until they were below our horizon to relay to you through the lunar sats. I'm attaching their orbital elements as closely as we could read them. We did not illuminate them, they were running their own radar so it was easy to get a fix on them."
"Thank you, Tim. We'll hail them when they come around. If we still have any antennas left above ground I'll tell you how that went."
"You really think they'll fire on you?"
"You better believe it. And if I fire on them, don't be a hero. I might not get them all and you only have two missiles. I suggest you keep them to defend yourself."
"If we can't contact you, we'll return to Home. We shall be cautious," he promised.
The clock runs slower when you are waiting Heather noticed. Even more so when you are the one who will have to take action or stand down. The Chinese ships, well almost certainly, to nine nines, would be coming over the horizon in three minutes now.
She was well below the surface, a kilometer and a half down, offset from the center of their properties by almost fifty kilometers. Their shelter was divided into small niches carved out of solid rock and designed to pass a shock wave around it without collapsing or material spalling from it's surface. A metal liner added to security from that possibility. She was in a seat anchored to the ground, wearing a helmet and strapped in just like she was in a ship.
There was a radar set sitting exactly at the middle of Central, not emitting at the moment. It was removed from the rover that didn't carry the cannon and several antennas and one actual radio transmitter, were beside it. The radar and radio feed were all fed to her down two optic fibers. They didn't have separate tunnels to run them in, but they put them in a slot at the bottom corners, on opposite sides of the same tunnel. It was as good as they could do under the circumstances.
Heather refrained from using the radar still, but called on the emergency frequency. Trusting they hadn't maneuvered since the report from the Flash Gordon and were in her sky.
"Hail the Chinese ships in orbit. This is Heather Anderson at Central on the moon. Unless you inform me otherwise, I am going to assume you are armed and here to enforce the United Nations decree. If you are armed in our sky you are in violation of the resolution of the Assembly of Home and my decree."
"Ships of the People's Republic go where they wish and your Assembly and your decree are less than nothing to us."
"Then a state of war exists between us. Which will mean your nation on Earth, not just beyond L1," she told him.
"A child's tantrum. If you can make war, do so, don't talk about it."
"May I have your name?" Heather inquired. "Your next of kin deserve to be notified."
"I wouldn't share my name with a foreign devil and I'm done talking." The carrier cut off.
Heather cut the mic feed too. "So be it," she muttered to herself.
The Bofors gun mounted on one of their rovers was old and used. But it was very accurate and had to be throttled back with a waste gate to shoot at orbital velocity or below. One magazine held a hundred and ten rounds and the gun mounted two magazines. But one was strictly ballistic and loaded for ground targets.
The other had a variation of the projectiles Bofors sold for Earth use with little winglets. Since they flew in vacuum the winglets were replaced with tiny maneuvering jets, that could nudge them sideways to intercept a target. The solid state energy accumulators Jeff made under license from his lunar friend gave them a four kiloton yield when shorted out.
To shoot at a space ship in orbit she faced two problems. The trajectory of a cannon shell fired from the ground could intersect an orbit, but even with the slight change in velocity the jets gave them, there was no way to make them assume a circular orbit.
She could however fire them at a shallow enough angle that they'd intersect an orbit at a very small angle from behind. The tiny jets couldn't change their motion fast enough to do a head on intercept. But again, from the rear catching up to them, the closing velocity would be low enough to allow the jets to set up a drift that would carry them to the Chinese boats. They needed the intercept to be in sunlight too, because it relied on an optical sensor.
The cannon would take a full half minute to empty a magazine, so it would elevate as it fired tracking the intersection point as it fired. Therefore they'd come under fire by a stream of projectiles for that long. The waste gate couldn't be set that finely or rapidly to make them all arrive time on target. And the minute variations in aim and velocity meant there was no point in trying to track the front or back of the line of ships. The shot spread would cover that.
Heather figured they would overfly her once, release a weapon on the back orbit and then make a last pass to assess their bombardment. If they broke off early her shots would be wasted.
"Johnson, go to the preposition pad. I have a fire mission for you. I'm sending it to your ballistic computer now. Drive slow and steady. You will not fire until they are past us. I doubt they have rear looking infrared and you have lots of time to get back in the hole. But if you mess up and wreck, that gun tube and action is still going to be glowing bright in the infrared when they come back around. You'll be an obvious target."
"Won't their millimeter targeting radar be able to see your shells?" Johnson asked.
"Very likely yes. But they probably won't turn to look to the rear and they have to turn it on. Which they probably won't do unless they see a threat such as another ship on their navigational radar. The radar only shows what the computer tells it is of interest and they may not have programmed it for anything as small as these cannon shells."
"Sounds reasonable to me," he agreed. There were a couple minutes while they drove to the parking pad. "We are parking on our prepositioned spot within the meter. Putting jacks down and locking the suspension. Magazine checks as 'A' selected. I'm setting it to assume the first aim point and auto fire per your program. Anything else I'm forgetting?"
"No. If they hit us I believe you may be in a more survivable position than us. We are only doing low powered local relay. So if I don't make it tell Jeff and April I love them. The same for my mom. And I thank you for your service. Dakota, thank you too," she directed at his silent co-driver.
"You're welcome my liege," she said.
"Funny, I felt just the opposite. If we buy it tell my bookie on New Las Vegas, Tony Kaminski, I'm sorry I missed my last payment," Johnson requested.
"Indeed. It would be my honor."
"Fire mission in twenty seconds. Johnson off here."
Thirty seconds is a long time with a cannon rattling your brains firing almost four times a second. The first few empty cases rattled across the railed in deck on the roof. When the magazine was half empty they didn't hear them hit anymore. They were layered and the entire railed in area filled like a bin with empty hot brass.
"Slow and steady," Dakota reminded him driving back to their shelter.
"How did I get this bad reputation?" Johnson asked. "I've never wrecked."
* * *
"There it is," the Chinese tactical officer called out. "Kind of obvious. They have radar reflectors all over the place and it's smack on the prime meridian and equator both."
"Then let's mark it for them," the Captain smiled. "Program a ground capable missile with a megaton warhead to retro burn and drop behind us. Set to detonate at fifty meters. Then the pass after we'll assess the accuracy and damage."
"Central, this pass those ships were observed to release a weapon that is deorbiting. I'm afraid you were right. We could see its engine fire, but don't have an accurate track for it. It should impact after the ships pass you again, around thirty to forty minutes from now I'm guessing."
"Thank you, Tim. We are firing on them. Please be aware some of the debris from any hits may persist along this orbital path for an unknown time. Some may actually rise. Most of our actual projectiles should miss and impact to the west of your position if you wish to sit it out. If not we suggest a southern tilt and course for your lift off."
"Thank you, Central. We will probably shape a low energy return to Home after they pass our horizon three times without leaving orbit."
"The third pass there may be some debris. All debris if we're lucky. I still wouldn't fire up the radar," she counseled.
"Four passes then, just to make sure. I especially don't want to get ahead of them. Thank you Central, Flash Gordon going to radio silence here."
* * *
"I might be able to put in a word and get you on an early track for a starship berth if you are interested," Barak told Deloris. "You'd have to be able to make yourself useful and have the depth to give some input on design. You'll have the practical experience of this voyage. If you can get some hands on cross training from Alice on environmental systems, that would serve you well too."
Deloris was sprawled with her head tucked under his chin. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him sternly. "Don't you dare toy with me about starships. That's why I got my master's ticket. That's why I'm taking engineering courses and lots of practical studies on controls and instrumentation. This is my Big Thing. So you better mean it, if you start talking starships."
Her elbows were digging in his chest, so he reached down and adjusted the Singh compensators beneath his bunk to the half G he was used to at home.
"Jeff is working on design details already. Nothing final, but subsystems that can be integrated later. He has a lock on high density miniature fusion design and I know he is experimenting with a power cycle that produces tritium as a side product. He specifically said he wants that for outer system work and star ships, because a tritium – deuterium reaction produces about four times as much power as his current system. I really don't expect anyone else to beat him to a working starship unless somebody makes a huge unanticipated quantum leap in technology."
"What's in it for you?" she asked skeptically.
"I help my friend Jeff get somebody qualified, who is already obsessed with the idea. That's pretty hard to evaluate when you start looking for crew, but I think it's a plus. It should certainly please you. And there is the possibility I might be interested in a berth myself."
"Ah and are you thinking we might have a similar 'association' on a star ship?" she asked.
"I don't know. You said not to presume on any ties after this trip, so that will take some more evaluation," he hedged. Her lunge caught him completely off guard.
"Ow, oww. Let go my ear! Biting does not help your cause!"
* * *
The third Chinese ship of their fleet strung along the same orbit was the Ruyi, or scepter. It was officially The People's Scepter, but everybody abbreviated it for everyday use. The Captain was Samuel Bia. He was sitting in the command chair, his XO and tactical/com officer looking down at their boards. He was staring out the forward view port, contemplating the effect this mission would have both politically and on his career. They were oriented belly up to the moon which was a bright arch intruding 'down' into his personal orientation. There was a sudden hard spark of light ahead and slightly above where he was looking, but well away from the lunar horizon. It formed a small hot sphere before it quickly winked out. Then two smaller ones flashed, the same general direction, but definitely higher.
"Radar showing a cloud of debris expanding ahead of us," the tactical officer reported from his right. The command seat on a Chinese ship was in the second tier behind the others, where he could watch his crew. The man looked over his shoulder when he didn't respond.
"I was looking up," Bia told him. "There was a flash, then two smaller ones, with a very brief fireball of plasma. See if you can raise the Straight Path. If they don't respond check the Guan. I had no sense of distance so it could be either if it was from one of our ships." The Guan in front was the command ship. They would demand a reason for his interrogation.
"Straight Path does not answer," Permission to use targeting radar to examine the debris in some detail," The officer requested. "I just double checked the archive," he added, "there was no missile track on normal radar. Guan does not respond."
"Permission granted to scan the debris with millimeter radar. Send to Guan again: The Straight Path of Righteousness does not reply and we observed flashes of light which may be misfortune or attack. Add that we shall forward our radar scan when analyzed."
"Also inquire status of the Anchun behind us,"
"No answer Anchun either," There was stress in the tech's voice.
"Targeting radar shows a group of very small targets pulling away from us forward and at a small inclination toward the moon. At the very edge of detection now. They must be well under a hundred millimeters radar cross section, on the edge of detectable size at this range."
"How many?" Bia asked.
"My screen is saying about eighty. But it keeps picking up and dropping a few numbers. I'm losing some steadily now, passing out of range. This radar is also showing some large pieces of debris, as well as a large number of objects in the less than a meter size range."
"Do we need to maneuver to avoid collision with them?"
"No sir. Quite a few have acquired vectors away from us and we are as likely to duck into the small pieces scattered our direction as to dodge them."
"Hold course then," he ordered. Now what the hell was he supposed to do?
* * *
Johnson drove very safely back to the tunnel shelter and backed in with even more caution. He sent Dakota out to drop the shutters over the forward view ports. You couldn't see anything but the back of the big rock sitting outside the entry anyway, but it was still a bit claustrophobic staring at the inside of the shutters.
She dogged the shutters down, something they didn't usually do, but the Russians had welded a bracket and a pin with a spring retainer to lock it down, hanging on a chain. Like everything on the rovers it was brutally functional instead of decorative. She also plugged in the cable to a laser/receiver on the far side of the rock blocking their entry. It was pointed line of sight with no relay at another on a mast at Central. They could trade very low powered signals with no worries about being detected from orbit.
"Central, This is Johnson in the 'A' rover. We have completed our fire mission and are back safe and locked down. Any orders?"
"I suggest you stay in your seats with your restraints on. We have confirmation we have a weapons release in orbit. No hard data on impact time though."
"Thank you Heather," we'll do that.
"Dakota," he called back to the woman entering from the lock. "Boss lady suggests we strap in because we likely have an attack inbound."
"If it's going to be bad enough to strap in shouldn't you have your pot on?"
"You're right," he agreed and put his helmet on locking it down. "Look straight with a tight seam?" he asked.
"Looks sweet to me."
"If we get any motion or signs of an attack drop your face plate," he ordered.
"Roger."
It didn't take Johnson long to get bored. He was thinking about putting some music on or bringing a game up on the screen. His mind was far enough away the glare of light that blasted under the edges of the port shutters shocked him. That didn't mean he forgot to slap his face plate closed. He looked at Dakota. His vision was still a little grayed out from the flash, but he could see her visor was closed.
"That had to be one hell of a..." >>>WHAM<<<<
The ground wave kicked him in the butt. There was a deep thud and rocking motion and then a lesser vertical impact again. It would take him awhile to figure out they'd been tossed in the air by the primary ground shock, bounced off the side wall and landed on the floor of the tunnel again, but not landing flat on both tracks.
They landed on one corner and rattled around corner to corner before settling. The noise from debris hitting the face of the cliff was like hail on a roof and some pieces managed the two or three cushion bounce to get inside and impact the front of the rover.
"They really did it," Dakota said in a small voice. She reached up to unbuckle.
"Stay put! Johnson ordered rather sharply. She looked surprised.
"Tactics dearie. They may drop one on us and then follow up with another when everybody stands down and starts digging out or we pop out to assess the damage."
"How long do you want to wait?"
"Give it two hours, no, two and a half. If they don't pop us a second time by then it probably won't happen. Some small local bombings at street level on Earth they'd space them out only four or five minutes apart. It would be different there of course. They'd catch the people fleeing the first bomb, or wait until ten minutes or so to target the first cops and fire fighters on the scene."
"The orbital mechanics of it would make it difficult to do," Dakota pointed out. "More likely they would wait a full orbit or two to repeat."
"But they could have one ship maneuver, or release a weapon to loiter before it does a burn, couldn't they?" he asked. Dakota just nodded that was so.
"Ah, we're getting a little higher radiation readings than usual. Some of the crap thrown against our cliff is probably a bit hot. We'll want to scrape the approach ramp clean and walk around and check for hot pieces bounced inside by hand."
* * *
"The Armed Merchant Flash Gordon, calling Central. We only saw one ship passing this time. If the others have assumed a new orbit it's over the horizon from us. Or maybe Heather blew them all to hell. I'll repeat twice in case you can hear but not reply and inform Home also. We'll go to radio silence before he comes back around. I'm not going to try to engage this one at this point, though it is tempting. Will repeat in ten minutes."
* * *
Heather didn't see any flashes of light. She just had her video feed fail, the camera vaporized too fast to transmit a bright image. She never heard Tim's message about a ship surviving. About four seconds later there was a tremendous white noise and an earth quake. The regular power in the shelter went out and the emergency lighting came on. There was dust and some things stacked too high fell over, but the pressure held.
"When you have local injury or damages under control report in," Heather spoke in com. It was a matter of faith to think anybody heard her and the local net wasn't damaged, but then reports started trickling in.
"Everything is secure in the tunneling machine garage," Mo reported. "We are suited up and exploring up tunnel to see how far we have pressure and determine if any sections are collapsed or damaged."
"Thank you Mo. Be cautious."
"Oh yes, we'll seal the curtains behind us as we go and if we see debris on the floor we won't proceed until we see if the overhead needs any shoring. There's a port on the fiber by every pressure curtain, so we'll keep you appraised of our progress," he promised.
"That's excellent. Do you have radiation detection?"
"Clipped on my suit and a redundant unit on my assistant. I doubt it's hot anywhere but right on the surface where any fireball touched. And that will decay very quickly."
"OK, I'm checking other teams, but ping me as you go."
* * *
"How big?" Jeff asked.
"In the megaton range," Jon admitted. "There is apparently one surviving Chinese ship in lunar orbit."
"Do you intend to kill him, or should I arrange it?"
"You scare me when you get that face and flat voice. I've already ordered the bombardment of the UN. The lead strike happens in about six hours. Then the rest follow over the next day. Can you wait to see what sort of response we get before killing the entire Chinese nation and ruining the climate in the northern hemisphere for a couple years?"
"On Earth? Yes I can hold off doing anything to them, but not this ship in lunar orbit. It needs to be stopped right now."
"I've asked if anybody is in a position to intercept. So far nobody can guarantee it. We have two armed ships scheduled to dock at Home today and both are going to remain here for defense rather than turn around. But neither wants to go to the moon to actively hunt and intercept this ship. We'll use your mom's projectors on him of he tries to leave orbit towards us."
"You have his orbital elements?"
"You want them? Flash Gordon is still on the backside feeding us data. They wait until the Chinese have dropped below their horizon and squirt it to us. They haven't deviated for three orbits."
"Yeah. If I can't do anything in the next couple hours you better find more backup."
"Do you have a ship free?" Jon asked.
"No, but I have some weapons in lunar orbit. Inclined to pass over both Central and Armstrong. If the Chinese pass over Central they are in range of each other. They are stealthed and have countermeasures and decoys to penetrate a well guarded Earth target. I can't imagine one ship can carry better ballistic protection than an Earth base or city."
"You can't use kinetic weapons to soften them up though."
"But not making a burning reentry their stealth capabilities remain intact. I intend to come at them from both sides if possible. I have them orbiting counter to each other. And I'm going to ask if the Flash Gordon can help."
"Ah, I can picture it," Jon said.
"I hope the Chinese can't."
Chapter 18
"I have two interceptor missiles," Tim told Jeff. "They carry conventional explosives and they have limited burn time on the engines, but they are restartable and programmable. We got them for self defense and they were expensive enough at that."
"If you expend them I'll cover the cost or replace them. I'm looking at destroying them in two more orbits if they stay that long. Can you distract them by firing at them at the last instant, just before they pass the point you can do an intercept? By the time they react they should be beyond the point they can fire back on you from that orbit. If you agree I'm going to maneuver my warheads to be in position to strike within seconds of your shot. They will be aimed by their initial burn and not be showing an exhaust or radiating from hot engines as the approach. Since they are stealthed they shouldn't be detected until quite close."
"I don't know what you are shooting, but my missiles have to get within a hundred meters to do damage reliably. Coasting in from half an orbit away there is going to be some inaccuracy. How close can you get shooting that way?"
"I'm pretty sure we can get within ten kilometers and they can do a six G terminal sprint that will leave the Chinese scant seconds to react or they will be even closer. They will be coming from opposite directions. If they are busy with your missiles and mine from the front I doubt they will ever see the one from the back. Nobody carries a serious rear-looking sensor suite. They are both fail fused and even if they don't get closer than ten kilometers, they are big enough I doubt they will be unscathed."
"Define 'big'," Tim said skeptically.
"Over a quarter Gigaton."
There was a silent pause. "They are in a low orbit, so I'm only going to be a few hundred kilometers away when that detonates. Is that going to burn out my cameras and cable runs?"
"I'd point any cameras away or it'll burn out the sensor chip. If you can get to them it might be a good idea to unplug any antenna leads you don't need. That's one reason I wanted you to stay grounded to shoot. You obviously have to track them by their radar emissions like you have been. That system may very well be damaged too. If you get hurt bad enough that you can't lift ship safely we will rescue you and see to repairs," Jeff promised.
"Crap, how much Gamma are we going to absorb?"
"A little. About like an old fashioned medical x-ray."
"Give me two – three minutes to talk to my crew," Tim asked.
"No problem, standing by."
It was five minutes and Jeff was anxious to start moving his warheads, but when Tim came back he agreed. "They are both willing to do it. You can get the exact performance numbers for our little birds from Dave. I know you deal with him. That should let you assign us an exact attack profile."
"Thank you. I'll be back to you within the hour." Jeff closed the com channel, accessed his command programs and gave the warheads an initial burn command. He'd run the numbers and refine it, but that nudged them on the general vector. He better call Jon and let him know something was happening.
* * *
Sam Bia was sitting thinking. His crew knew it and knew their lives hung on what he decided. He should have reported to Earth already, asking further orders, but he had sent nothing. It was making them nervous. You could only delay so long before that itself would be punished. Samuel had no stomach to massacre a habitat full of civilians. He also had no a desire to go home to finish out his days in a hard labor punishment prison.
His fleet commander had not shared details of his orders and he carried no contingency plans in his safe, but he was pretty sure their mission was the destruction of Home. The decision not to call home was made easier by the fact a six man crew didn't carry a dedicated political officer. And the fact he'd visited his cabin and returned wearing both pistols from the tiny locked arms cabinet.
The fact that none of his five subordinates were demanding to know why he didn't press the attack or ask what he was going to do, suggested there wasn't even a political sleeper, which he knew for certain they slipped into small crews sometimes. He finally decided to speak frankly with the crew, which would seal his fate if it not theirs.
"Comrades," he laughed at himself for automatically using that term. That drew worried looks. "Perhaps crewmates would be better. I am having both an attack of conscience and an attack of critical thinking. I not only do not want to slaughter almost three thousand civilians, I honestly believe that in the long term such action will prove ill advised for our nation and race. Is there any of you who actually wants to rush forward and slaughter these people?"
He waited but there was overwhelming silence.
"I've considered what we can do. If we return not having followed orders we will be punished most severely." That at least got nods from the two he could see. "If we press on I suspect we will be destroyed like our three companion ships. Some would say we did the correct thing and at least we'd be remembered as heroes. I'm not feeling terribly heroic."
"Do you propose an alternative?" his XO asked. That was damn near agreeing to conspiracy and treason right there, if he didn't protest such questions.
"If we shape course for Home, but not to attack, China has no other ships of our class. Until and unless they build them, they have no way to come punish us or retrieve the Ruyi. I am convinced in my mind Home and the people on the moon are quite capable of enforcing this L1 limit they have set. I would propose we break orbit in about a half hour, start a slow minimum energy transfer to near Home's halo orbit, that won't be mistaken for an attack run and surrender. Offer to yield our weapons to whatever authority will take them and beg to retain our ship as a prize for defecting. Is there anyone of you that can't separate yourselves from China? Well, not China. We are unchangeably Chinese in blood and culture, but from the government we suffer at the moment? Do you have family or possessions you can't leave behind for a new life?"
"Ha! You are out of turn, Sam. Don't you know mutiny is supposed to come up from the lower ranks? Hell of a commander and naval historian you are!" his engineer Wong said.
"Well, I guess we know how Wong feels, if he can make a joke of it," Sam allowed.
"I seal my fate too," his com tech decided, "I have only my elderly parents for them to hold hostage. My father has privately counseled me to defect if I had good opportunity, so they already were willing to bear the burden of a traitorous son. I'll defect. If we can keep the ship we will be far better off than most refugees."
"I'm not a big talker," their systems engineer and environmental officer told them. That was an understatement, he could go days without a word unless it was forced out of him. "I'll go."
"You do not know my circumstances," the XO told them. "I married the daughter of a minor party official. She has an appetite for luxury my pay won't cover. She eats up my substance and draws on her father for more. She bore me a son when I'd been gone to the moon base for fourteen months and her father blocks me from getting a divorce. I'll gladly leave the shrew twisting in the wind, looking for a new sucker."
"Damn, I never knew," Sam said.
"It's not a tale of which one may be proud."
"The lack of pride is not at all yours," Sam insisted.
"Thank you."
The lowest rank sailor who heated meals and did the menial cleaning such as filter changing and cleaning the head was left. "This is disturbing. I will admit I never saw such a thing coming. I have been loyal, even when I felt I was not treated entirely fairly. I know there are defects in the state, because there are defects in all of us, but I believe in it. I'd be a rice growing peasant if I hadn't joined the People's Army. Yet here all my superiors, every one, are eager to reject it. How can I stand against all of you? And how would I ever redeem myself if I could make my way home later? They'd want to know why I didn't stop you or somehow stop the ship if I couldn't, as if that is some easy thing and no answer would satisfy them. What am I to do?"
"Hu, you are not a fanatic if you can acknowledge the state has defects. I'm sure the state will have defects where we are going too, like all nations. For the same reason you gave, all of them are made up of people. I'd counsel you that we are all older than you and I think we all shared the same idealism as you when we first entered the service. We'd have never been recruited if we hadn't. I submit that if you can't trust the state to allow you to return, knowing you are totally blameless, that is answer to what you owe it right there. We have all become disillusioned. When you are older like we are, this will appear as a most fortunate opportunity, not a disaster. Do you have anything to go back to, besides quite a few more years as a toilet scrubber and filter monkey? Surely you have seen that a farmer's son doesn't get sent for more education and a rise in rank if you are politically unconnected?"
"Well yes, I knew that. It may be hard for you to understand, or believe. But toilet scrubber is still a step up from a dirt grubbing farmer who will never rise above sharing the village TV set and still never be outside the danger of famine like a thousand years ago. Do you know my parents still put a handful of rice in a clay pot every day while things are good and bury it safely against bad times? That is their insurance. At least they are so unimportant I don't think anyone will bother to punish them for my leaving." He paused quite long. "So you may consider that my yes answer."
"Let's move smartly then. We've talked so long our burn window is only twelve minutes away. Let's secure for burn. Check all systems and while you take care of that, I'll try to compose a surrender that is clear, but not too groveling."
* * *
"This is Flash Gordon, Captain Houston speaking. They didn't come around again! The Chinese ship has either maneuvered significantly or left orbit. What do you intend to do now?"
"I don't see anything to do but stand down and wait for the situation to resolve," Jeff told him. "My weapons are still in a stable orbit. I may have wasted some fuel maneuvering, but they have quite a bit of delta V left. We may be able to do another intercept mission if we need to. Or maybe they got smart and went home. One may hope," he said, heartfelt.
* * *
The slightly radioactive soil on their ramp was pushed to the side and the entry to the tunnel was clear and flat again. After the rovers were parked outside they walked around the tunnel with a hand held counter and found a few hot chunks and swept up a few hot spots with no obvious rock, not even a pebble, but whatever small particle was hot was swept up with the dust and regolith to toss outside. They even found a few small pieces had bounced all the way in past the second rover.
The usual team took the 'A' rover and drove toward Central. The GPS said they were where the road should be, but it was gone. The soil was loose and the rover kind of wallowed. The 'B' rover crew, Katia and Julie stayed behind. They brushed their machine down to remove any hot dirt, before they backed all the way back in. They also rigged a handheld radio in a long cable, as far from their tunnel entry as they had line.
"This is getting pretty hot," Dakota warned Johnson, watching the count rate climb. "I might want to have children someday. With one head," she added after a bit.
"I'll turn back in about ten minutes," he promised. "I want to see if there is a crater. I'm not interested in stopping and having a picnic either. The radiation instrument is mounted outside, So the hull of this Russian rover is cutting off everything but the gamma and some of it. If we were in an American rover, built like a beer can, it would be much hotter."
They went for another five minutes before he slammed on the brakes, sliding to a halt. They were about sixty meters from a drop off. If the other side was any indication it was steep too. They couldn't drive down it, they'd have tumbled end over end. Sixty meters was even too close on loose soil of unknown depth.
"OK, they did detonate it right on the surface. Grab some pix of that while I move us back." He shifted to reverse and applied the power with uncharacteristic ease. The tracks dug a little in the grooves he'd cut sliding, but gently started moving them back at a walking pace. He added power after they had retreated a good hundred meters and didn't slew the rover around by reversing one track until they were a good two hundred meters from the edge.
"I couldn't see the bottom could you?" he asked.
"No and I'm glad we didn't. If we went that far forward I think we'd have ended up on the bottom. Probably upside down, breached and very dead. If the fall didn't kill us I figure it has to be far hotter down there where the fireball melted it, than up here on loose debris."
"It looked to be five or six hundred meters across."
"Five hundred thirty. I checked it with the cannon range finder before we'd backed up too far. Assuming seventy meters to the edge, which was sort of rolled over."
"And soft."
"And scary as hell," Dakota agreed.
"If they have about the same profile as the craters we made with smaller weapons, then the bottom is about two hundred to two fifty meters deep, but there is usually a little mound in the center for some reason. When we shot the rovers from Armstrong the craters were about two hundred fifty meters across and a hundred or a little more deep."
"Your cannon shells are pretty small. This doesn't seem like it's big enough."
"With nukes, or the equivalent, the destructive effect goes up as the cube of the yield. So looking at the amount of dirt moved – it sounds about right. I doubt the Chinese had specialized warheads that can penetrate deep in the ground before they go off. Although if they did the crater might actually be smaller."
"You think our people could ride this out?"
"At a kilometer and a half down and fifty laterally? I think there is a very good chance, yes. I'd bet two Solar straight up at even odds that they are OK."
Dakota hoped Heather never heard him reducing her life to wagering odds. She wasn't fond of obsessive gamblers. She had come very close to banning public gambling in her kingdom.
* * *
"The more I know the man the less I like him," Alice complained.
"Is he being obnoxious? Is he harassing you?" Barak asked.
"No! He was horribly self assuming and smug the first week. Then when I wouldn't even sit and eat with him he sort of clued up. It took about another week, but he started acting much more solicitous, polite even. He's actually being nice now, but that's even creepier, because I know what he's like from the first week. The Leopard does not change its spots in two weeks. He's just smart enough to put on an act and I'm not going to fall for it. There's nothing nice about him!"
"I take it you don't think he'd stay nice for a year and a half?"
"No way. If he gets what he wants it won't take another week before he is full of himself again and I have too much self respect to get close to somebody I don't really trust. If I did I'd feel like dirt. He wouldn't understand either. My sister dated a creep just like him and once you appease them then they think they are entitled and can't figure out why should you complain if they start acting all self centered again. It's a big game to him."
"It's a shame they didn't catch this in the psyche profiles." It bothered Barak, but it wasn't a total surprise and certainly not enough to put him off his feed. He chased down the last bit of egg with his toast and finished it up.
"They'd have no reason to mark him dysfunctional. He doesn't assault anyone. He doesn't do a classic stalk with trespass and unwanted contact. I can't tell him not to talk to me. We have too many overlapping duties and work in the same areas. He's really expert at fitting some expression just short of going over the line, into a perfectly normal business conversation, to remind me he still has a personal interest too."
"I doubt he is going to give up as long as he sees you as unattached and available," Deloris predicted. "To someone with his mindset what you think about it doesn't matter. He's selfish and he wants to control you, at least where it touches on him. The only thing that might make him back off is if he sees not only you are opposed, but you have a partner than would have to be dealt with too."
"I could bunk with Deloris and let you use my cabin so he sees you going in and out," Barak volunteered. "It wouldn't be hard, you know he's going to be snooping on you as long as he is holding out hope, so he'll make it a point to watch the corridor and where you go. These sort always do some sort of stalking, even if it isn't invasive. If he thinks we have hooked up likely he'll ease off."
"The trouble with that is what I mentioned," Deloris warned. "I wasn't kidding. If he thinks the other male is hogging both women, he just may work himself up into a murderous rage in a year and a half."
"I might be harder to kill than you think," Barak said smiling.
"And that's not an acceptable outcome either. We don't have a single backup for any of us," she reminded him. "If he can't do his jobs we make do with manuals and the long lag on calls home to ask what to do. I have a much better solution," she said, smiling.
"Oh, that's an evil grin," Alice said.
"I would propose I continue to bunk with Barak, as you knew I was already. We talked about it," she said offhand to Barak.
"What good would that do? He's not chasing you," Alice objected.
"Yes, but you can go stay in my cabin so he thinks you and I are an item," Deloris said. He may watch you, but I don't think he can keep track of all three of us. He has to do his work shifts and sleep and eat."
"I'd have never thought of that. You are truly devious and I mean that in the best way. That is likely to put him off thinking I'll ever find him attractive, even better than faking a relationship with Barak. His male ego would never let him see hostility to you as a natural response either. I am in awe," she professed.
Deloris just smiled, smug with her solution. "And a year and a half is a long time. If you do decide to take Barak for a check out ride I've already told him I won't make a fuss. Just make sure there are no dings or scrapes, check the oil and fill the tank up before you bring him back."
Barak looked up sharply, dismayed. "I'm still here, you know? Hearing all this. Do I get a say in anything? Maybe I don't want taken for a joy ride. I'm not furniture you know!"
Deloris ignored that. "Don't worry, he has lots of good miles in him," Deloris assured Alice. He really didn't like how they smiled at each other.
* * *
"This is the Central rover teams, calling from shelter. We have a handheld that can reach the lunar net satellites. Then through the Rock relay to your address. Can you hear us Home?
"Yes we can," This is Jon of Home security. I'm calling Jeff Singh and April Lewis to let them know you are in contact again. Are you all well? Any injuries or short term problems? You have air and supplies?"
"We are fine, but out of contact with Central. We have no idea if there are hostile ships in our sky, we don't want to run radar or let them know there is still a target here, so we want to make this brief and shut down. If they locate us and drop another missile like the last one our radio is not nearly far enough away from us."
"There are no more hostile ships in your sky. The single surviving ship has assumed a very slow insertion to approach us and is asking for asylum. They want to defect."
"Don't trust the sneaky bastards," Johnson growled. "I wouldn't let them anywhere near Home before they are boarded and disarmed."
"We won't. If they'd made one more orbit trying to decide what to do, Jeff and the Flash Gordon would have blown them away. The UN should be far too busy to raise another fleet too. We bombarded their Geneva campus this morning, catching all the higher level officials sitting at their desks. The other prominent UN offices are getting hit as night progresses, to minimize further causalities. They visit war on others and call it peacekeeping. I find it deliciously karmic that they finally attacked somebody who could attack back. It should have happened years ago."
"Aren't the Swiss screaming?"
"Let them scream. They decided to welcome a snake pit in their front yard. We used far smaller weapons than we could have. They'll mostly have broken windows outside the UN. There is lots of other screaming. To listen to them you'd think we bombed China and we haven't touched them. We have hit UN offices in North America and we'll be giving the Nairobi headquarters a little love pat soon."
"Jeff on circuit here. In the room actually. April will be with us in a few minutes."
"Jeff we are out of contact with the rest of our people. It looks pretty good to me for their survival. The Chinese hit us dead center. They must not have been off fifty meters. But that was the relay point to feed everything down a fiber to their shelter. The shelter is designed to ride out this sort of a shock wave, but I'd be surprised if the conventional tunnels weren't damaged somewhere. And I have no way to find out. They dug as deep as they could at the last. So there aren't multiple tunnels and paths to the surface until they get much higher."
"Do you have any kind of a metal rod, hard preferably? Oh, April's here. I'll fill her in."
"I have some spare axles, or I can strip the barrel off a rifle."
"Then I suggest you clear some regolith until you have bare rock. Burn a starter hole in the rock with a laser and drive that rod in. You'll need to cannibalize a mic off something if you don't have spares and attach it. Attach it real well, maybe glue it on with a glue that cures hard. Run the gain up and listen with the microphone. A tunnel boring machine makes an unbelievable noise. If they're digging out you should be able to hear it clear on the backside."
"Why wasn't I born smart instead of drop dead handsome?" Johnson asked.
"You'll have to ask your mother, but being both is really fun," Jeff ad-libbed.
"We'll make something like that and call as soon as we have some news," Johnson said. "We have supplies and can hold out for some weeks, but it's not terribly comfortable. We'll be sleeping in hammocks strung in the backs of the rovers and we have to suit up to go between rovers to use the shower. If we stay here very long it would be nice to rotate out to Home for R&R."
"How would we do that?" Jeff asked. "There's no landing field there now and the jump-bug you had was probably vaporized, right?"
"We have two rovers with plows and we took the towed machine that melts regolith into pavement to the other side of the mountain we're in and left it just off the Armstrong highway. The jump-bug was flown to Armstrong and the pilot made arrangements to stay with family there. They still won't cave in and build a hotel. So once we get part of a field plowed and burned, call it two or three days, you can bring a ship in or call Armstrong and tell the bug to jump in."
"OK, we're glad you're unhurt. I'm off to a late lunch and I'll fill April in on the news. Thanks Johnson."
"Let's go get some lunch and I'll tell you what's happening along the way," Jeff told April.
"Heather is OK or you wouldn't want lunch," April said in the corridor. "That's the only thing I really care about."
"Well, I think they are safe, maybe not to nine nines, but I'm not sick with worry."
"Good enough for me," April agreed. "We need to text Barak too."
Chapter 19
"I'm now a citizen," John declared.
"You could sound happier about it," Fred told him.
"There are no perfect choices. I'm ambivalent. But this looks better to me than just being a fugitive. As long as I was a USNA citizen that's what I'd be."
"Has the government acknowledged your renouncing it?"
"I don't expect them to. Indeed, I decided not to give them an address to which they could respond, or in the worst case, come looking for me. Nevertheless, I have gone to the trouble to make the formal breach. I feel like I did the right thing."
"I will probably join you, sometime. I have to say, I never had any thought of becoming a French citizen when we lived on the Turnip."
"I doubt you'd have been welcome. I wasn't welcome and I spoke perfect French. Indeed they hated me for having a cultured Parisian accent. There is no pleasing them."
"You weren't kidding about that? The woman really froze you out because your French was better than hers?"
"If I hadn't messed up and told her I was raised in Paris she'd have eased us into some cushy job. I should have lied and said I was schooled in the Ivory Coast. It fell out of my mouth before I realized she would take it as a slur on her accent."
"I'll be damned, that's crazy."
* * *
"Home, this is the Chinese lunar shuttle The People's Scepter, Captain Samuel Bia speaking. With whom am I speaking?"
"I'm Jon Davis. Normally you'd speak with local traffic control but I asked your call be routed to me. You will probably be most concerned with my administrating Home's militia. But I'm also head of security. What can I do for you?"
Bia laughed nervously. "The security people with who I am familiar don't ask how they can help me. Perhaps I do have the right person. Our entire crew agreed to surrender in a group, resign our service and defect to Home, if I can obtain assurances we will be allowed to immigrate and not be thrown in jail or treated as prisoners of war. Firing on civilians is repugnant to us, undoubtedly illegal, as China is a signatory to various conventions on warfare and we suspect after what happened in lunar orbit we wouldn't succeed anyhow. We have no personal wealth of any kind as we didn't plan this defection, so it is very important to us that we want to retain our ship as personal property to establish ourselves, not yield it as a prize. Do you have any set policy for this sort of thing?"
"First of all we have no jail, so it would be tough to throw you in one. Last prisoner I had was a USNA Lieutenant, captured off one of their satellites that fired a rail gun at us. We only had him overnight, so we put him up at the Holiday Inn. I have no desire to deplete my budget offering your whole crew long term accommodations at a nice hotel. As to your ship. We issued letters of marque and reprisal during our war with North America. That allowed us to seize enemy shipping to offset damages they inflicted on us. Do you understand the legal concept?"
"No, it isn't familiar. I don't know if we have such a thing under Chinese law."
"I'll show you documents and history if you are interested later. I just mention it to show we do regulate such things. People can't just seize private property on a whim, even if they are what you'd call an official. We have no such letters against Chinese vessels. The strongest claim you can have to ownership is possession. I am going to discuss terms under which you can approach Home. We still have concerns you may use defection as a ruse to attack us. I'm asking to send a militia team and have two of my men board and make an inspection. I'll make sure at least one speaks Chinese. They will likely have side arms, I won't ask them to leave them off, all Home citizens are free to go armed, even non-militia. I will ask you to help them temporarily disarm any missiles, by physically disconnecting power or data cables to them until we are satisfied you do intend to take residency or become citizens. They may even cut cables, but you can get them repaired later. If you want to send crew over I suggest you keep at least one higher ranking crew member aboard to guarantee a claim of continuous possession until you dock. My men will assist you if our docking is unfamiliar. Local traffic control records will also constitute a record of ownership."
"May one inquire what was done with the North American?"
"He was offered to those he owed a blood debt. Both of them declined to execute him. We sent him back to the mercy of his masters. We also destroyed the other two USNA satellites with rail guns."
"They didn't retaliate?"
"Never heard a word from them. Smartest thing they've done in years."
"I see." There was a good long pause while he absorbed that.
"I'd personally suggest you draw up a document naming all your crew business partners. You can parcel out shares any way you like. Most would favor higher rank and service with larger shares. A lot of people publicly publish such contracts in the business announcements of our local web. I'd really suggest you change the name of your boat. Something with a little less flavor of revolutionary theatre. Do you have some sort of code pad or biometric lock on your docking collar or air lock?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then you are set for personal security. Most Home owners keep an armed guard at the lock visiting other habitats. You might do well to talk with some of them. They might even send some business your way."
"Who do we see for personal identity documents and business licenses and you know, all the official sorts of things required? We don't have any cash to pay for these things."
"That's Earth Think. We don't have licenses or travel papers or passports. We have professional certifications, but obviously you are a master pilot. You can pick up the certs easy enough. You have some nuclear missiles don't you? Again, I was asking about rendering them safe. I'd like to do that at some distance, say twenty thousand kilometers. I'd appreciate if you didn't turn nose to us until that detail is taken care of. Once some of your people are on station I'll feel much safer that you aren't going to fire on it."
"Certainly, certainly. Rather than disconnect, why not offload the missiles when we stop? We have four of them with variable warheads. Who will take possession of them?"
"I'm not going to steal your missiles," Jon replied. "Almost all Home ships go armed. Most call it out in their full legal name like, The Armed Merchant Silly Willy. That is in fact the ship I have on call to go out and deal with you. What I intended to suggest was nuclear arms are expensive. You could probably sell two of those missiles and raise enough money for fuel and operating expenses until you get some work. If somebody doesn't want to use them, one of the fab shops would probably buy one to reverse engineer it."
"You allow private parties to own nuclear weapons?" Sam asked. He looked stunned.
"I don't allow anything. If I tried to take them away the citizens of Home would teach me to do EV in my boxer shorts. They are a Sovereign People. You'll need to learn the local politics."
"Yes, I surely will. I think I've fallen down the rabbit hole."
"Hah, besides the fancy English you have a good education in Western culture and literature don't you?"
"I do, but it appears you are writing a very different new chapter to it. How do I apply for residency or citizenship if there are no required documents?"
"Residency, you just reside. No permits needed, just enough funds to live here. You can declare you consider the arrangement permanent if it makes you feel better. Just declare it in public. Or post it to the social areas of the net. Nobody makes you take a net address, but it's pretty hard to live here and do business without it. Citizenship is harder. You have to have a net address and register as a citizen by volunteering to pay taxes. That gives you a vote in the Assembly. No tax – no vote."
"Taxes are voluntary?"
"Yeah, but do you really want to live someplace and not have a say in how it is run? And lots of folks will look at you as cheap or a moocher if you aren't a citizen, maybe wonder if you are really committed to staying. There is still social pressure to consider if you want people to do business with you."
"I think that's all I can absorb right now. I'm going to go try to explain it to my crew. It may be a bit much for them to absorb at first. It may require some retelling. And turning them into capitalists with shares in a ship and the business a ship does, will be interesting. I may call you to conference with us and explain things better than I can."
"Do that," Jon agreed. "If I can't explain it I'll get Mr. Muños who operates our vote counting system and chairs the meeting of the Assembly to tell you how it works."
"A man of such high office would take time to tutor us?"
"He teaches me all sorts of things. Straightens me right out on all sorts of matters. One of the smartest guys we have on station. I'll be back in about ten minutes and give you an intercept time and where we want you parked for my boys to inspect you. Is that agreeable?"
"Just out of curiosity. What if it was not agreeable?"
"I'd have to kill you. I'd really hate to do that. OK?"
"Your frankness is reassuring. It is indeed, very OK."
* * *
John cracked open his lunch pack and inspected what he got today. He could tell he amused the cafeteria ladies, because they offered three or four choices for a carry away lunch, but he always requested a random selection and not to be told what he was handed. He really wasn't a fussy eater and it was a little adventure in a day that would otherwise be too predictable.
"What did you get today?" Helen asked. She was aware of his little game, but she was a fussy eater, sometimes giving him parts of her lunch that, 'just won't do'.
"A ham and cheese sandwich, an egg salad sandwich, an apple, a cup of pasta salad with a bunch of minced stuff in it. It all looks good."
She leaned over and looked. "Farfalline, red sweet pepper, scallions and chopped eggs. Hmm...there is some sort of green herb and some paprika in the dressing too."
"You're like a living test lab, how can you tell that at a glance?"
"I know food. Maybe someday we'll open a restaurant. There are two clubs already on Home. There is always a market for quality, it's just the population isn't big enough yet."
"I think the quality is just marvelous. I grew up in Maryland. That's in the USNA. My family wasn't on negative tax, but we certainly never ate this well. I spent some time on the moon," he shuddered. "The less said about the food there the better. Freeze dried mostly."
"I knew you were North American from the accent, but what did you do on the moon?"
John looked stricken. "I said too much. I got comfortable with you and I spoke too freely, what I did on the moon is better forgotten. I may still have some enemies from that time. Would you forget I said that? Please?"
"Indeed, Home gives one an opportunity to start anew. This is something I am not unfamiliar with. I won't say a word to anyone. Not even my dear husband, who might forget."
"Thank you. He works at one of those fancy clubs, doesn't he? If you get to open your restaurant he has seen how it works from the inside, hasn't he? He'll know how to hire serving staff and direct them, knows all the problems and tricks from both sides of the counter."
"He has experience as a very able administrator. He took a step down and is working well below his station serving, but it pays very well with the right crowd and the club attracts that custom quite steadily. Class is not frozen and stratified on home like Earth. We'll move up in business when we know Home politics and society and feel comfortable here."
"You're running from somebody too," he declared firmly.
"Avoiding someone," she admitted. "Home doesn't do extradition. We are citizens now. Even residents falls under their protection. So we are not running from anyone. We are most firmly ensconced and where we want to be," she insisted.
"That's nice. That's where I want to be too, but I'm not confident of it yet."
* * *
"There are noises, really loud noises, from below. I think they are digging out, but I have no idea from how deep, or where they will surface," Johnson said.
"That's enough for me," Jeff told him. "I know they are alive and in good enough shape to move around and get a tunnel digging machine working. I'm quite encouraged. If there was no loss of life I may moderate my response. I'll wait and talk to Heather about it. The surviving Chinese ship that defected will be docked sometime tomorrow. I'll ask the commander if he'll grant me an interview. I'd very much like to know the intent of their orders. Then I may contact whoever the current Chinese government is and talk to them."
"What if they won't talk to you?" Johnson asked.
"They wouldn't discuss matters with me last time and got a large crater where their main spaceport used to be. One would think they'd learn talking is better."
"It's a government. The bigger they are, the stupider they get. I have no such confidence they can learn anything at all," Johnson said.
"I can get their attention," Jeff promised, deadpan. "Talk to you soon. Call me if they do a break out."
"Of course." He'd have said more but Jeff was gone.
"I hope that girl is alive," Johnson told Dakota. If she's dead I think it's going to be ugly."
"That girl, is no way to speak of your sovereign."
"She's my sovereign, but to Jeff she's that girl I love. And if he kills a few hundred million Chinese and devastates their nation then that's the Heather over who it will be done."
"Yes, I see. You have that right," she agreed.
* * *
"I'm very strongly hopeful Heather is alright," Jeff told April. "I've decided to wait and see if she's ok and if there was no other loss of life before I even make a public statement."
"I hope you aren't going to rain total destruction on them if somebody did die. Can you make your response somewhat proportional?"
"That how it has been done recently, since the politicians have gotten frightened of their weapons and afraid to use them. But it looks like that period has ended to me. You can blame that on me hitting Jiuquan if you want, but hey, somebody did Kargil too and nobody retaliated. Now the Chinese have bombed Central and they would have hit Home if they could have. Looks to me like there isn't any restraint now. I tell you what. If they've killed Heather I won't kill them any deader," he offered.
April didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm going to ask them to recognize Home's right to exist and accede to our L1 limits. I'm not even going to ask them for damages for the roads and shallow structures they destroyed. We will have a great deal to rebuild and deal with low level contamination for ten or fifteen years. Doesn't that sound pretty moderate?"
"I have to admit it does," April agreed.
"I'm not even going to hit Beijing if they should prove intransigent."
"Good. There are cultural treasures there people all over the world would hate us for destroying. That's a relief."
"We are going to have to back fill something around three million cubic meters of rock and regolith and the deep damage to the bedrock is going to be a major inconvenience later when I build a bean-stalk. I could be seriously irritated with them over that alone, but I'll let it pass. I may mention it, but I won't ask reparations."
"From what I've seen of the Chinese they are so arrogant they'd choose to die rather than pay a cent to a barbarian. If you asked a cent from them you might as well just attack."
"I agree. When the Captain of the Chinese ship comes in I'm going to ask to speak to him. Do you want to help me? You are better with people than me."
"Of course, I'd be happy to be there."
* * *
Captain Bia left his XO on the Scepter. He'd intended to send him to Home and remain on board himself, but the man had strongly advised him to go himself. He didn't feel qualified to represent the ship in commercial dealings. Captain Bia had at least grown up in a mercantile family. He heard his father bargaining with suppliers and discussing his business dealings at home with his mother. He'd been to the family store and seen customers seek a lower price and his dad turn it aside with humor or meet it part way. His XO, Zhao was from a military family. His head was filled with duty and obedience. Negotiating or commerce was not something easy or normal to him.
He'd have had more misgivings about leaving his command in Zhao's hands if the militiamen had not been so polite. He'd expected barely concealed contempt and short courtesy. Instead the two who came aboard introduced themselves and asked if they were in need of anything before they started identifying the missile subsystems. They did wear side arms but other than those they only had a pair of bolt cutters.
When he asked if they would like to also secure the two side arms the Scepter carried they suggested he wear one to Home, explaining the majority of adults went armed.
The Militiamen cited their qualifications and what ship and company they worked with when not militiamen. They insisted a third man come over to assist him, double checking his suit and helping him with an unfamiliar airlock. They even asked if he was experienced with suit work and offered to rig a line or transport him if he was uncomfortable going across untethered.
When he declined they related the North American they had arrested previously had to be taken between ships piggy-back by an experienced rigger. That was interesting. The ship he went to was tiny, the lock just barely able to cycle both of them at once. Inside the volume was so small they recommended he retain his suit and just open his faceplate, explaining a pressure loss could render such a small volume deadly in seconds.
Despite the small size the strange vessel was comfortable. The seats were generously large and adjusted over a wide range. Once his luggage and he were secure he was offered coffee. Sam looked closely at the fellow to see if he was having fun with him. He seemed serious. "That would be most welcome," he told the fellow and the odor of brewing coffee, not instant, filled the single compartment in short order. The real shock was how good it was.
"We are making a slow transfer, Captain Lu Lanakila explained. "This ship is out of commercial service and dedicated to this task until my fellows have determined how to disable your missiles with minimum damage, so no rush. We'll also stand by to return you to your ship when you want. If you wish I'll play the guide when we arrive, or you can call Jon Davis and request one of his officers help you. You should probably get a set of spex," he said touching the wrap around glasses he wore just like the two men he'd left on the Scepter, "if you wish to go off on your own. If you don't have the map software it's easy to get lost when you are new."
"I'm embarrassed to say we have no cash money. I don't have any way to acquire them."
"Crud, I have an old pair, maybe two, but the older one is really obsolete, maybe five years old. If you want them they're yours. They're just taking up valuable storage room in a drawer because I have a hard time throwing something away that still works."
"That's a great kindness," Sam allowed, accepting quickly. Privately he had a hard time believing he'd be turned loose with no handler. Maybe the spex could be tracked?
"I know a kid who runs courier," he said, eyes darting up and checking the time in his spex. "My wife should still be at home now. I'll have him run get them from her before she goes to work and meet us at dock. Yeah," he said after a pause, "she is and it's set up."
"You do that all so fast with the glasses?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, you get used to them and hardly think about how to do something after a few thousand repetitions. Of course, take them away I'd feel like everything was in slow motion. Are you hungry? We have a few sandwiches in the cooler. Or if you like I can take you to lunch when we dock. It will be about my lunch time then."
"I'd be happy to wait until we dock. This has been stressful. I went past my lunch and never thought about it. I was too concerned with defecting safely to think of food."
"I can understand that. We've done interceptions and boarding before. Believe me, it's stressful from the other side too. When we went to investigate that North American sat that fired on us when we were still in LEO, it kept trying to bring its rail gun to bear on Begger's Ride. We stood off and let them do the boarding, but they had to burn the rail gun off so they could stop maneuvering to keep from being shot. We were scared to death they'd blow themselves up and take out the Begger's Ride too. They heated the cabin until the fellow had to come out and surrender or cook. Then the big blond guy you saw, Al, went over and carried the fellow away before searching the ship."
"There was just one man aboard?" That would be odd.
"A lieutenant. There was another higher ranking officer in her, but he was going to blow it. So the junior popped him in the back of the head," he explained making a gun with forefinger and thumb. "He didn't feel particularly ready to be martyred."
"I see. He made a grave error allowing his subordinate access to arms."
"That he did."
Sam decided now was not the time to ask Lu if he was comfortable with an armed crew. He was after all a guest...
Chapter 20
"There was a section completely collapsed at about three hundred meters depth. So I determined to weld up the last pressure curtain, reinforce it and start cutting a parallel tunnel offset a hundred meters. I eased the new route away at ten degrees, clear back to the previous curtain, so if we use it a long time it isn't an abrupt curve where we'll have to slow down too much and it would always be a hazard for bumping the wall or crossing the center line."
"Thank you Mo, as always, you are doing a great job," Heather praised him. "Somebody else might have just cut off the old tunnel at a right angle and we'd be stuck with it for years."
"That would be short sighted. It cost a half hour at most."
"How long do you estimate to reach the surface?"
"Five days if nothing busts. That's just a one lane narrow tunnel with no clean up and a rough floor. We'll go back and open it up, shape and finish it and install cable ditches and pressure curtains. Something will bust, so figure six to seven days."
"Will we have to walk out in suits?"
"Oh no, it'll be big enough to drive a maintenance cart. But you'll have to power it off your pistol. You have one of the early ones with a big accumulator don't you?"
"Jeff has been putting the big one in the current model I get. The power port will run a suit. I'm not sure it will run a cart. How much does it draw?"
"Looking it up...To go twenty five kilometers an hour on a ten degree slope, somewhere around thirty five to forty amps at forty eight volts."
"It'll get warm, but it can do that. We're golden."
"We'll stick a thermometer tape on it. If it gets too hot we'll slow down, or stop for a bit and let it cool down."
"We have enough open cubic to back fill?"
"Yeah, we'll fill a third of the long tunnel and maybe the garage, but we can do it. I could lay a hundred centimeters of gravel on the floor too if I needed. But I don't think we will need to."
"Now I can stop worrying about that and worry full time about what is happening out there," Heather said.
"Amen."
* * *
"You are getting the VIP treatment today," Lu told him. But from the smile it was either a joke, or there was much more to the story. So Sam just smiled.
"This is the south dock, which is normally reserved for passenger shuttles. They charge a higher fee to use it. It's handy to the high rent district where all the big businesses rent and the com shack and cafeteria, but with the UN declaration all the traffic was outbound and nobody is coming back until it is resolved, so our tacky little merchant ship gets to dock here. Jon cleared it with the station manager as a no fee, to accommodate me. It's closer to my cubic to pick up your spex and I don't want to subject you to the other place to eat by the north dock. That's all beam dogs and workers. They serve alcohol and get rowdy. This is the nicer area with a cafeteria that doesn't feature thumping music and video game noise."
Sam elected to leave his pressure suit aboard. Lu assured him his ship jump suit wouldn't draw any hostility, even with military insignia. The docking boom was needlessly luxurious. The utilities hidden inside covered runs and carpeted to reduce noise. The lighting was hidden in slots playing indirectly across the crème colored uncarpeted sections. There were two continuous hand rails for the inexperienced.
The opening through the bearing into spin was near big enough to fit a ground car. Sam was impressed despite his resolve not to be. Lu saw him looking at the joint, Someone had drawn a peaceful New England village spread out on one side and a huge armada of flying saucers patrolling above. The saucers were speckled with tiny button batteries, topped with flashing LEDs. Lu did wonder how they were made to flash synchronized on each saucer.
"Last week it was a sailing ship going round and round over a sea full of whales. Next week it'll be something else even more bizarre."
"You could set up a camera and catch whoever is defacing it," Sam suggested.
"What would be the fun in that? Somebody will clean this off to put up a new one. If you repress creative people they will do something else and this at least is relatively harmless. If they feel oppressed they may turn to pranks much less benign."
Sam could see there was going to be some culture adjustment required. The elevator he noted had instructions in Chinese and several other languages beside the English and Japanese he'd seen in the hub. He slipped a toe under the strap provided until he perceived some weight.
As soon as the door opened he smelled good cooking odors. Lu led him to the cafeteria as promised and he didn't object. He was finally relaxing enough to eat something.
The serving lady was tall, thin with long fingers, slightly almond eyes, dark skinned, but not really black and smiling friendly but poised. Her name plate said Ruby. She glanced at his rank tabs and said, "Good Afternoon, Shang Xiao, what can I get for you?"
Sam was so shocked his mouth fell open. Most civilians didn't know their own nation's insignia, much less another countries. She ignored his shock. "It's between lunch and supper. We can serve you either, except we ran out of the Lamb Shanks already. What's your pleasure?"
The menu board had so many choices it was hard to choose. One could get any entree with a choice of several side dishes. It made for so many possible combinations. What was Pastitsio? Or for that matter Coney Dogs? Surely not...
"I'll have iced tea, the meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, apple sauce and cottage cheese and a double piece of apple pie for dessert, but just save that back for me. I'll come back and get it so the ice cream doesn't melt."
"French Vanilla or Ginger?" Ruby asked.
"Yes," Lu agreed.
Ruby looked back at him. "The same," he said taking the easy way out. Ruby just lifted an eyebrow, but didn't object. When he got the tray he understood the lifted eyebrow. Did Lu really intend to eat all of this? Apparently he did, along with a couple dinner rolls and a hand full of butter pats he grabbed from the buffet table in passing.
The meatloaf was excellent, with olive slices and onions mixed in. The gravy went well with it and the green beans were bright, not over cooked, with a little oil and almond slivers. The apple sauce was hot, which surprised him, with lots of cinnamon. All of a sudden it was all gone and he was shocked he finished it.
"I'm getting my pie, you ready for yours?" Lu asked.
"Yes, but just one piece," Sam said begging off a bit.
"I'll bring coffee too."
Lu returned with the tray and Sam found he had one generous slice of pie, but both kinds of ice cream still. The coffee was different than the ship's, stronger, but very good with the sweet pie. Lu inhaled the pie like he was still hungry. A very young boy, maybe eight years old came in at a trot and handed Lu a sealed envelope. Lu swiped his hand pad past the child's and got a near bow of thanks. The boy was wearing spex too. That was transport, advice, the spex and courier service he owed Lu on top of the hospitality of dinner now.
When the pie was all gone Lu leaned back. "What is Shang Xiao?" he asked. Almost saying it correctly. "It must not have been an insult, you looked surprised, but not put off."
"It's my rank," he said touching his collar tabs. "Was the lady by any chance in the military? Few people know insignia well. It's about the same as a Colonel in your service, maybe an O-5 or O-6. Why would she know that?"
"She was a loadmaster in the USNA Air Force and her husband was in black operations."
"They still segregate black troops? I thought that was far in the past and if my own people told me that I'd suspect it was propaganda."
Lu grinned big, amused. "No, this is idiom. Black operation are covert, hidden. Off public budget too. The kinds of troops dropped in with no insignia who do assassinations or blow crap up and then vanish quietly into the night. Like the Russian's Vympel, or Alpha Group. I'm not sure what you call yours."
"Oh, One of those. They are dangerous."
"No shit. Easy was the pilot of the Happy Lewis who ambushed the Pretty as Jade and the James Kelly at the same time and destroyed both of them, back when Home's war with North America started. I wasn't here then. Her husband probably taught her to read the tabs. He'd have wanted to know who to shoot first in a group you know."
"I will treat him with the utmost respect."
"Good plan. Ruby is pretty formidable all on her own. Not much gets past her."
"I can believe that too," Sam agreed, looking in his empty coffee cup. Lu took that for a signal to refill them. He was weighed down with supper enough he was content to sit. He hadn't eaten like that in a long time.
A very young couple came in the door, the girl waving to another young girl and a man working on a full sized computer. They both looked hard at him, then went to Lu and spoke, he brought them back to the table with him, but the young man said, "Right back," and went to get coffee for him and the girl. There was a hulking big man who came in the door with them, a hard looking fellow, but he went to get coffee and sat at another table surveying the room. He must not be with them after all.
"This is April Lewis, she's a business partner of Jeff Singh, who is getting them coffee. Mr. Singh wondered if you'd do him the favor of allowing him to interview you. That's exactly how he phrased it. I believe he didn't want you to feel any compulsion."
Sam looked at Lu very strangely. He wanted to ask why he'd feel compelled and what the young people's interest was. He couldn't imagine. Perhaps a school project? People appreciate if you treat their children well and it didn't cost anything to be polite...
"Certainly. Lets finish out coffee while we grant them their interview. Then we do need to find somebody to buy some of my, uh, equipment," he hated to speak of something as rude as weapons in front of the young woman. She might get a bad impression of them, "or loan me money against the sale of them even."
The young man came back to the table and deposited their mugs. "Mr. Bia, I'm Jeff Singh. I have an interest in Central on the moon that your fleet bombarded. I don't intend to let that create an adversarial attitude in me. I was told you rejected continuing your mission because you objected to attacking civilians, do I understand that correctly?"
"Yes, it was offensive and it appears from their destruction ill advised as well."
"The Scepter wasn't the fleet command vessel then?"
"No, that was the Guan and being the lead vessel it's commander was of General staff level rank. The command officers of the other vessels were like me, of a rank somewhat equivalent to what you'd call a Colonel."
"Do you have a copy of the orders under which he was operating?"
"No, this is not how the head of a task force operates. He keeps his orders, I believe in English you'd say, 'close to his chest'," he said, holding his hands close like he had cards. "To share them just invites his juniors to question his execution of them. The People's Army operates within the strict order of command, not consensus."
"Do you believe his instructions were to destroy Home?"
"Oh, undoubtedly. We had no Marines on board, there was no way to do a boarding and take control of Home. The only thing we were really equipped to do was put a missile in you."
"What of Central then? Have you any idea if he was instructed to bombard them too?"
"I doubt it, but it would be well within the scope of his orders to deal with any belligerents incidental to his main operations. We heard Ms. Anderson speak with Commander Ding in the clear and she warned him a state of war existed between them, including our Terrestrial homeland. Knowing Ding, he'd never let that go unanswered, in fact he invited her to make war if she could and not talk."
"Well she did that, though your survival was an oversight I'm sure."
"Do you know with what she destroyed them?" Sam asked. "We saw no missiles and when we activated our targeting radar we got a bunch of very small targets receding at extreme range, yet the pieces seemed to be too large and of a size to be shrapnel from a warhead burst."
"Oh, she does have missiles, but I imagine she fired on you with a 57mm Bofors cannon. A robust and mature technology, very dependable and it is rather economical, although this is the first time she's fired on orbital targets. She used it to lay a grid down on the lunar surface before and it was very effective in removing a rover force."
"A cannon?" Sam said, unbelieving. "Nobody uses a cannon in space."
"Well, obviously she does. If it works it's not stupid," Jeff told him.
Sam could only nod acknowledgement. A cannon... He remembered something Jeff said.
"You said you had an interest in the lunar colony and spoke of this Heather by name. I'm sorry for your loss, if you've lost a friend to the bombardment."
"Oh, thank you, but it's a little early to assume that yet. Our people still on the surface there report there are noises to indicate they are digging out. I rather imagine chances are they would all be dead or all alive. I doubt there was any in-between. They did dig a crater that displaced about three million cubic meters of rock and soil. It's going to be a tremendous pain to fill that back in and it's going to make engineering use of the site more difficult. I don't intend to make a big issue of that as long as there weren't any causalities."
Samuel felt a stirring in his guts. A sudden realization he was completely misreading this situation and a panicked review of what he'd said, not thinking it important. Now he understood why Jeff might think him under duress to answer.
"What course of action are you contemplating then?" he asked, suddenly shaky, but managed to control his voice. "Assuming as you say, your friends are safe?"
"April here has lobbied me to not strike Beijing. She points out that would provoke people in many nations because of the loss of irreplaceable antiquities. The Forbidden City and all the things in museums. I have to tell you, when I bombarded Jiuquan, I expected some sort of retaliation and we sat for several days, our fingers on the trigger so to speak, ready to hit Beijing. I'm glad we didn't now, the coup down there forestalled any response they might have made. For awhile at least. This is why I'm talking to you. I'm trying to see what the mind set is of the people in charge. Obviously it has shifted again, to want to confront us. I'm also waiting to make sure Heather and the others are well and uninjured."
"We don't understand what motivates your politicians," April spoke up and told him. "not just your politicians, it isn't a West vs. Chinese cultural thing. We can't figure out where the North Americans are coming from either. We tore the snot out of North America and they still seem eager to engage us. That's why we moved out here from Low Earth Orbit. They couldn't resist snipping at us. After the device Jeff dropped on Jiuquan we'd have thought any sane people would weigh the risk and decide bothering us just wasn't worth it... But here you are."
"There is arrogance I admit," Sam said choosing his words carefully. "They have gotten used to the idea that two billion Chinese are a force nobody can oppose. Certainly not a few thousand people in a little can beyond the moon."
"I could reduce that number considerably, if that's what it takes to adjust their attitude."
Sam really didn't like the look on Jeff's face when he said that. It wasn't hateful or filled with any anger or malice, just factual. It was just – blank – poker face his brain supplied. He had a pretty good grasp of colloquial English.
"My crew have all separated themselves from China," Sam explained. "Really, I find myself at odds with my government, former government, just like you do. There's no going back for us. We'd spend the rest of a short life in a hard labor camp. And yet, I love the land and the history, like April said. I'd like to preserve that and many of the people are fine. They don't know or care about politics. They care about their family and the next rice harvest, like they have for thousands of years. It pains me to think you may harm that, but what can I say? We're here now and what is good for Home has now become our interest too. I honestly can't offer any advice that serves both. If talking to them did any good we'd have tried to go back and plead our case."
"I will try talking to them," Jeff vowed. "It may not do any good, but it won't cost me like it would have you. I'm nowhere near as at their mercy as you. As long as they don't touch my people I'll try to be moderate."
"I am at your service if I can help," Sam said. He was saying that with a depth of understanding he lacked when he thought Jeff was a school boy.
"Thank you. If I can help you with integrating into our society I owe you that much for your candid answers and not bombarding Central further."
"Well, we have arrived with no cash, but the considerable fortune of a running ship and all its supplies. We need to raise money and find work. Mr. Lanakila here suggested I sell a couple of our nuclear missiles, either for somebody to mount to their ship or to reverse engineer. You wouldn't know a manufacturing company or a bank to suggest I go deal with by any chance?"
" Dave Michelson runs Advanced Spacecraft Services. He does a lot of fab for us including weapons. I'll ask him if he is interested in buying a missile. If he isn't he'll probably know who will. You can talk to the Private Bank of Home tomorrow. See what kind of a deal he'll give you. He may want a lien on your ship and not just a missile if you want a lot of funds. If you don't get what you want come see me and I'll see if the System Trade Bank can do any better."
"Why in that order? Is there some reason to see the Private Bank first?"
"The System Bank is owned by we three, me, April and Heather the lady hopefully digging out on the moon. I've already thrust myself forward and offered to advise you, before you asked for it. It puts me in too good a position to take advantage of you to promote myself to be your banker too. Especially when you are new to Home. I felt it was a conflict of interest. Better you see a third party to at least see what else is available."
"That's...remarkably ethical. Thank you." He refrained from asking how they owned a bank when they looked like children to him.
"But I realize you won't get things squared away until tomorrow. Here," he said, leaning back and pulling his pad off his belt, "Oh, you don't have a pad," he realized, setting his on the table under his hand.
"No, but I'll have spex as soon as Lu shows me how to use them."
"Hang on a second." Jeff called Eric Pennington. "Eric, can you pull a used pad from your inventory and drop it at the check in desk to the Radisson? You need to register it on the local net to a Samuel Bia, B-I-A. Yes, no, charge me for it. I insist. Thank you, you too. There," he told Sam, you have a room waiting and a pad which will have ten thousand dollars USNA on it. I'll transfer it before you get there. The desk clerk will show you how to make a local payment with it. You can square that up with me when you get some funds."
"Can I sign a note or something for you?"
"Really Sam? Are you going to stiff me for ten thousand?"
"Uh, no."
"Call me if there is anything Lu can't handle for you tomorrow," Jeff said gathering his things and getting up.
"Thanks, I will," Sam said to his back. There was a fellow a couple tables away by the wall who stood up too. Another Asian man. He tucked some sort of card in his shirt pocket and to Sam's horror drew a pistol with the quick assertiveness that said he was going to use it, not just wave it around. The set of his face said that too.
Sam stood abruptly, knocking his chair over behind him, not sure who to warn, reaching for his own weapon. The fellow hesitated an instant, staring at Sam just as shocked as Sam was, his mouth forming an O. Then he continued his motion turning to fire on the big guy Sam had noticed sitting watching them.
The big fellow was blinding fast and drew his own gun as soon as the other fellow's weapon came into his view as he turned. They shot at about the same time, but neither went down. The big fellow quickly put two more rounds in the man's chest, but it only staggered him back a step. The Asian fellow gave up on shooting the large man and pivoted back to them, gun coming around toward Sam, who had already drawn.
The gun swung and arm extended, everything reduced to slow motion in his mind, pointed not at him, but at Jeff, who started to turn, then went down, tackled by April. Sam ignored them, eyes locked on the gunman. <BOOM> the round went through where Jeff had stood, past Sam so close its passage slapped his cheek. He was focused only on placing his front sight on the man's face, squeezing delicately. <BOOM> the face distorted like a crushed mask and a red cloud filled the air behind him. He recovered from recoil and followed the target down as he fell backward. He sprawled limp and didn't get up. Sam didn't trust it, aiming at the man's crotch where he wouldn't be armored, ready to shoot at any motion.
"Jeff is hit!" April called loudly. Sam couldn't worry about that. He still had a gunman to deal with.
The huge man approached the fallen one, gun pointed, just as cautious as Sam. He kicked the gun further away from the man's hand and looked closely. "You put a round through his right eye," he called, "he's not getting back up." He dropped the hammer on his pistol and holstered it.
April was helping Jeff back up. He had a furrow across the back of his left shoulder, but it wasn't a serious wound. Apparently April knocked the breath out of him, taking him down. The big guy was there and helped lift him and sit him in a chair, before he turned to Sam.
Ruby appeared with a couple towels and made April hold them to the wound. "I called the clinic and asked for an emergency response," Ruby told them.
"I'm Gunny Mac Tindal, Mr. Bia, April's body guard. You look kind of freaked out and your gun is still in your hand, hammer back. May I suggest you drop the hammer carefully and safe it?"
"Yes, of course. I think I need to sit down too," he decided. He did as the man said, pistol pointed at the deck and sat back across from Jeff, who was breathing again, if shallowly.
"You know the ten grand I just loaned you?" Jeff asked, still short of breath and in pain.
Sam could only nod yes. He was getting shaky in the after action reaction.
"Consider it paid."
"Here, take this," April said handing Sam a capsule and laid one in front of Jeff too.
"What is it?"
"It keeps your hearing from being damaged by the gun fire. You have to take it within three hours, but why not now, while you are thinking about it?"
"This happens so often you carry these around, like breath mints?"
She sighed. "Not to normal people, no. But this is our second gun fight in the cafeteria. I hope Ruby doesn't ban us and make us eat in the Animal House." At his blank look she explained, "That's the other cafeteria where the vacuum rats and beam dogs eat. It's...not as nice."
"Ah yes, Lu mentioned it." He decided to trust her and swallowed the capsule.
Sam looked up and a bald black man almost as large as Gunny Mack was searching the body. He came over grim faced and slapped down a photograph on the table, hard. It was a head and shoulders shot of Jeff.
"Oh Crap," Jeff muttered. It seemed very restrained for the circumstances.
"That's Jon Davis, head of our Security," April supplied Sam. Jon had already turned away, grim faced and was ripping the shirt and vest off the body with a knife. He erupted in a string of curses. Sam thought he knew colloquial English, but he didn't know several, then he realized the man had progressed into some other language. He came back and sat with them, glowering.
"I'm Sam Bia, Mr. Davis. We spoke on com recently?"
"Yes, of course. Sorry your visit took such an ugly turn."
"What was upsetting you over there?"
"This fellow was a long term beam dog, with five years' service, a very experienced man. He's supposed to be Korean, but he has a double dot pattern tattoo on his shoulder that says he's Hunting Leopard dadu. Chinese special forces."
"A sleeper."
"Yes and now I have no confidence there aren't others in my jurisdiction. You and Gunny did well to take him down. Those boys are good."
"As good as he was, he hesitated for an instant when I stood up. He was shocked to see me."
"He knew you?"
"Not me, but he hardly expected a Chinese officer in ship's uniform, with my rank tabs on, to stand up beside his target."
"Yes, that could rattle him."
"But he did know me," Gunny pointed out. "Maybe not by name, but he know I was April's body guard and knew or figured out I'd intervene for Jeff too, so he fired on me first."
"That isn't hard to figure out," April said. "Gunny shows up in news pix of me and some stupid gossip boards even suggest he is a love interest," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Thank you for taking him down," Gunny said. "You went right for a head shot and didn't waste time on his torso like I did. He didn't look bulky enough to be armored up."
"Neither do you," Sam observed, but there was a hole in Gunny's shirt and the coppery smear of a bullet spread under it. Not frangible like Gunny's rounds.
"Yeah but this is thin lunar stuff, special. I guess their stuff has been getting better too."
"It's been over a year since I qualified with pistol. Good thing I remember how."
"He missed me," Ruby said, back with more towels if they were needed. "Not that anybody bothered to ask. He killed my warming oven though."
"I saw you were up and walking, Ruby," Gunny objected. She just humphed, still miffed.
The medical cart pulled up outside the doors, a technician with a kit coming in. He barely hesitated at the Chinese assassin, not even checking for a pulse after seeing the ruin of his head. He came to Jeff, move a couple mugs aside and opened his kit open on the table. But he sent the clinic pix and was quietly conferring before he starting any treatment.
"I just don't understand these Earthies," April complained, holding the towels back pressed after showing the techie the wound. "If I did I could predict when they'd do stuff like this and how to deal with them."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Jeff said, breathing better. "We're through trying to understand them. They can worry about understanding us now. It's an education they just earned and they shall regret asking for it. When I get through with them they will have a depth of understanding."
Chapter 21
Jefferson Moses Singh, Citizen of Home, Peer of Central's Sovereign 4/17/2087
To the People's Republic of China, Beijing, Earth: Through broadcast and news releases.
The People's Republic has crossed the L1 limit the Nation of Home set for armed Earth ships and engaged in war with the Sovereign of Central, using nuclear weapons. It unquestionably intended to act against Home in a like manner, but its fleet was destroyed, except one vessel that has surrendered, voluntarily decommissioned and stopped it's aggression.
In addition to bombing Central on the moon, an assassination attempt with injury was made upon my person at Home. This is the second attack on a peer of Central. Attempts have been made to enslave my step-mother Dr. Singh Nam-Kah, steal her intellectual property and the ship Eddie's Rascal.
We reject and ignore any attempt to transfer responsibility for China's actions to the United Nations, but we will make war on them as a willing ally. No member of that international body is safe from our retribution if they support this action and host our enemy.
We do not seek to transform the nature or form of government in China, only how it deals with outside entities; including my family, Central and Home.
The actions of Home and their allies to defend Home and Central does not sufficiently address the debt of China's crimes against Central or their attempted assassinations and thefts.
Unless The People's Republic of China publically repudiates it's actions, agrees to restrict its armed vessels inside the L1 radius and agrees to end its use of armed terror agents and assassins inside Home or Central within forty eight hours, I will prosecute the state of war which exists until harsher terms of surrender, namely unconditional surrender, are forced upon it.
I have made a personal promise not to destroy the cultural and historic treasures of China preserved in Beijing. You can thank the kindness of others for that restraint. I limit myself in no other way. All foreigners are warned to vacate China for their own safety. I encourage China's friends and allies to speak to them and dissuade them from this foolish course.
Jefferson M. Singh
"Do you really expect any reply?" Jon asked.
"Not at all. They are far too arrogant. Still, there are forms and history."
"So what are you going to do on your deadline? Drop a dozen weapons on them and devastate them as a nation? You'll make us a stink to the whole planet."
"I'm going to drop one weapon on an almost unpopulated area. It will demonstrate their vulnerability. If they ignore that I'll follow it with another in two more days."
"That's much more moderate than I hoped for."
* * *
Lindsey's site on the Home network had been offering sketches and larger drawings for a week. Her brother Eric helped her set it up. You could access it from the wider net if you knew how, but she was content to offer her art on Home for now. All the complications of import rules and possible Earth tariffs were not something she wanted to deal with right now.
April had received notice of its creation, being in Lindsey's address book. She'd even added it to her subscriptions which she didn't do with many sites or people. She'd already looked once when new work was posted, but she was firmly resolved to not buy anything for awhile. After all, she'd blown a bundle on the one already and bought the tapas in Tonga.
A notice of new postings was in her messages and she went to look. The new drawing was stunning, but much too emotional for her. It was drawn from an unusual perspective. All the people faced each other, so it was impossible to show all the faces. Lindsey had elected to do it from behind the Chinese assassin Sam Bia had just killed. It made sense and it showed what a fantastic artist Lindsey was to be able to imagine a scene from a completely different perspective than where she observed it. But it evoked feelings too strong for April to want it on her bulkhead.
The assassin was leaning back, right foot turned to the right a little toward Gunny, knees just barely bent and the head flung back harder from Sam's shot, but Lindsey decided to stop at that instant before there was an exit wound and that saved the picture from being gruesomely macabre.
April remembered the cloud of red mist behind the man. That would have ruined it to be looking through that. At least in the center part of the drawing. The man's arm was already up in recoil and his hand was opening up, the pistol floating, soon to fall as he did. It would end up close enough to his outstretched hand to worry Gunny as he approached. Gunny was to the right of the assassin's back, pistol recovering from recoil, a tiny mark showing his ruined shirt.
Sam was to the left with the pistol not yet climbing in recoil. The white flash around the muzzle obscuring the details of his pistol. She was flying through the air, head tucked, shoulder against the back of Jeff's legs, taking him down in a hard tackle. He was arched from the impact, arms thrown back and knees bent, so that both of them were actually out of contact with the deck. His pad was flying through the air, knocked out of his hand. She didn't remember that. Her one foot trailed further than the other so it was hidden behind the gunman. Damn...had she really hit him that hard? Well, better than being shot.
It was beautifully done, but it made her all quivery to be made to recall the reality. Definitely not something she wanted to walk past a dozen times a day, no.
* * *
The emergency Security Council meeting was not very well attended. Part of that being because it had to be held in secret for fear they would be nuked from orbit. A further reason being that no few of the support personnel who made everything run smoothly from behind the scenes had died in the bombardment of the Geneva campus. There was no televising the sessions for fear they could be located from the feed or venue. That certainly hadn't been a concern of previous sessions. China was laying out an argument for immediate further action against Home. It had gone well past any reasoned outline of proposed action and deep into emotional name calling and invective.
The Council Chambers which lent the proper dignity to their meeting were a blackened pit. The campus in Geneva which had a suitable room was also gone and even the old Norwegian room that had sat unused for some years at the old offices in New York was rubble now. Not blasted out of existence like the others, but reduced to pieces like a chopped salad by the strange weapon Home had not used since their war with North America.
They had been refused the use of legislative chambers in three nations and ended up meeting in the board room of a grubby commercial corporation. They were used to a vast cavern of a hall and much pomp, but were in no position to complain. The table sat twenty six and would be a marvel of luxury to most people, with a glass wall looking out over Brussels from the thirty fourth floor. At least the blasted site of their former headquarters was on the other side of the building, not mocking them outside their windows. Only the presiding Russian President of the council had arrived in a limo with escort and his indiscretion was not appreciated by the others who had hurried into the building from normal sedans and under an awning that shielded them from a no longer friendly sky. He was too attached to the courtly ritual for his own good.
The representative from North America sat across from one from China and didn't look happy at all. China had no more ships capable of trans-lunar work and any resolution to act against home would fall on the USNA to enforce. They had avoided sending a ship to be slaughtered with China's in this last misadventure. This time a vote to enforce would require them to use their veto to kill it. It would look bad, but their rep was prepared to do so if need be.
The delegate from Switzerland was present and he stood and asked to be recognized. Normal procedure was for only non-members who were asked to lend troops to enforcement actions to speak in this council, but nothing was normal now and the Russian recognized him.
"You may be aware my country has a history of neutrality," he started and looked around. "We joined the United Nations quite late in the last century by referendum and by a rather slim margin. We did so for the express purpose of being able to join in the various humanitarian activities of this body. There have been several attempts by various factions in Switzerland to remove us since then, when the humanitarian activities seemed to be less than desirable for our nation to be associated with them. Too many have lost their stated noble purpose and descended into thuggery and looting."
"There is again a referendum being held demanding we remove ourselves. This time with such overwhelming support that my government feels the need to get ahead of the people's demands, or be counted very badly in obstructionist opposition to the will of the voters."
"Just as the predecessor League of Nations passed from existence when it was shown to be powerless to stop its most powerful members from descending into the First Atomic War, we perceive this present body to be powerless to prevent it's more powerful members from engaging in an interplanetary war of potentially equal or worse folly." He looked pointedly down the table at the representative from China.
"We therefore serve notice we sever our relationship with this body, in anticipation of a pubic mandate to do so. The sooner we leave, the cleaner our hands will be and the less chance we will be counted an enemy of the powers you foolishly seek to antagonize. We have suffered damage and causalities in Geneva for offering hospitality to the UN. We suffered those losses for actions we did not take or approve. If the same sort of arms used against Jiuquan were used against the United Nations campus the entire canton of Geneva would be gone."
"It is our expectation we are the first, but this organization is fatally wounded by the overreach of the principal founders. You fail to see a historic shift in the reach and powers of mankind. If you should decide to punish us for refusing to be a party to your criminal acts we have not thrown away our defenses. We were never of a mind to think the nature of the world had changed. Further, we will appeal to Home for protection if we are harmed for refusing to join a war of aggression against her..."
He was interrupted by the representative from China, shouting that they were cowards and slamming something, his personal pad it appeared, on the table tap in front of him until it burst with fragments skidding across the marred table toward the others.
That seemed to make him aware what a spectacle he was making and he went silent. The representative from Switzerland just gathered his documents in his folder and walked out. After a long silence the member from Argentina stood and asked for an adjournment to consult with his government. That was welcome and passed on a voice vote by acclaim instead of a roll call. The members practically ran from the room.
The representative from North America was a State Department veteran, without any long association with the Patriot Party, picked for a desire to have some appearance of inclusiveness and professionalism in their consolidation of power. That choice was aided by a general attitude that the UN was no longer of any immediate importance except for public relations and to exercise their veto to keep other states from acting against their allies.
He hurried down to the street level with his single aide and waited while the Russian President of the Council was stuffed in his limo with an escort vehicle front and back. His plain Ford sedan was waiting to pull up behind. When his aide opened his door he looked down the street at the departing Russian. The escort vehicles were running strobe lights but no sirens. There was a bright moving star in the mid-day blue sky to the west and he almost jumped in the car. "Get in, move!" he yelled at the aide, but the man froze, mouth hanging open in alarm.
"Make a U-turn and go the other way as fast as you can!" he yelled at the driver. "Our lives depend on it!" he added, but the car was already in motion. The door jerked out of the aide's hand, slammed shut not from his hand but from the sudden acceleration.
"Is it a bomb?" the driver asked, after weaving through some traffic, not slowing down a bit. He ran the first traffic circle they came to cutting across three lanes, bumped two cars and left a tangle of vehicles stopped every which way behind them.
"I saw the blaze of a reentry vehicle in the western sky. You better hope to hell it isn't a nuke, because we'll never get far enough away to matter if it is."
"How long?" the man asked.
"Three, maybe four minutes at... <WHAM-WHAM>... <WHAAAAAAM>...most...
The last impact came with a bit of a flash. The car danced around a little as the ground wave went under them, but the driver deftly played the wheel and kept it on the road. The air wave was there with hardly any delay and sent a shower of glittering glass falling off the buildings down both sides of the street. The traffic signs bent away from it the direction they were going and there was a flurry of leaves stripped off the trees along the boulevard that fell slower than the glass. Other drivers didn't do so well, running across sidewalks into building fronts or parked cars, a few impacting planters and other urban fixtures like lamp posts. The ones who didn't wreck just stopped in the middle of the road, not necessarily in their lane or straight. His driver went around them, going up on the sidewalk one place to get around a bus.
"Keep going, but I think you can slow down now. I expect the first couple strikes we heard were on that vain Russian, the closer one being at the Newman-Rand corporation where we were meeting."
"You want me to try to circle back around to the north, to the airport?"
"I doubt the airport will be open soon. Just keep headed south east. Hell, I don't care if we go all the way to Luxemburg. I'm not sure how welcome we'll be in Belgium for awhile."
"I guess Home is still pissed," his driver said.
"Yes, but not pissed enough to wipe Brussels off the map. Those were just kinetic weapons I think. Or if explosive not even what we'd regard as a tactical nuke." He sat thinking a bit as they drove along.
"You know, for all anybody knows I didn't rush out to leave right away. I'm not sure I want this job anymore. I was never a big fan of the Patriot Party, but I was presented with one of those, we're going to make you an offer you can't refuse, kind of deals. If I'm dead they can hardly hold it against me I don't come home, how about you? If you could seize the opportunity to vanish would it be attractive? Or do you have family and such you'd miss?"
"Well, besides being your driver I'm also supposed to be your handler in case you get too far out of line. I'm not married and my dad is dead. My mom is in a nursing home and wasn't too sure who I was last time I went to see her. Only reason they picked me as your handler is they have my mom and a bunch of trumped up political charges to hold over my head as a leash. I'm never going to get a better chance to leave, where they won't demand a huge exit tax I don't have. I'd be years paying it off or looking over my shoulder every day worried some IRS agent would render me. I need to get off this main road up ahead and find someplace quiet I can put on the set of fake plates I have in the trunk. We are fortunate they supplied me with a lot of equipment and a second set of documents. You probably have more assets stashed away than me. If you help me defect with you I'll come along and be of what use I can. Do you have anywhere in mind that will take us?"
* * *
"I've published my response letter, Jon. I know it has been published to some public news agencies. The BBC World News and their European feed picked it up for sure. They made fun of it, but they published it word for word in its entirety."
"I know Jeff. You sound like you expect me to be unhappy with you."
"Well, you made it pretty clear you don't want me to make us a stink to the Earthies. I don't feel like I can do anything and come up smelling like roses."
"Do you even know what a rose smells like?" Jon asked, amused.
"Yes, when I went down to Earth ages ago with my dad my relatives had roses."
"My pardon."
Jeff waved it away as inconsequential. "I see you are continuing to prosecute our conflict with the UN. Do I need to coordinate anything with you on China?" Jeff asked.
"No, I have enough on my plate looking for worthy UN targets. I want to go for the leadership and not the ground level grunts. I don't want to burden our merchants with too many demands, so they suffer irreparable economic harm. Anyway, I figured anything I did to China would pale beside whatever you do."
"You might consider similar actions for China. I promised not to destroy Beijing, but even in the city, if you saw a really high ranking party official traveling or reviewing a parade or something, one rod isn't going to take the city down."
"OK, I can see that. Can you have your, uh, people tell me if they have a clean target of opportunity?"
"That I can," Jeff agreed, smiling. Jon had given him a hard time before about having people. You are welcome to my offices if you want to see our strike. It will be in about twelve hours now."
"No thanks, Believe it or not I have as much as I care to do with the Militia and Security. I might even fit in a couple hours sleep. How is the shoulder doing? Still hurt?
"Yes, the direct wound is going to heal OK and they can minimize the scarring, but the hydrostatic shock did damage deep in the joint. It's going to be stiff a long time," he quickly went back to the issue of China. "You might leave your news filter loose in case it is noted in the earth nets and services."
"For one weapon? They kept it pretty quiet last time. Won't they try to do that again?"
"Maybe. We'll just have to see."
* * *
"Go to the BBC North American News and look at the Arts and Culture section," Jeff called to told Jon an hour later. "April just called and told me about it."
Young Artist Documents Home and its Conflicts and Culture, ran the title. There was a video interview with Lindsey Pennington after the news service was high bidder on her latest drawing, "Assassin!".
"Why do you fade your images out to the edge?" the lady asked, sweeping her hand from the middle to the edge of the drawing displayed on a screen.
"I'm telling a story," Lindsey said, not near as shy as she'd been recently with Sylvia. "Why would I want to distract my viewer with things that are unimportant to the story? The images are sufficient to give context, but the faded hues and weaker lines tell you, yes this is where it is happening and the time and others present there, but the action is in the center with the serious detail and saturated color there."
"Well it certainly has a following already. We had to bid thirty six thousand EuroMarks to get this drawing. Miss Pennington was not particularly eager to talk with us, saying she was busy, but if we owned one of her drawings she'd take time to speak with us. The consensus seems to be we won't lose any money on the purchase. What are you so busy doing young lady?"
"I attend a local school with my younger brother and of course part of my schooling has to do with my art. Some of it has been studying fashion and clothing manufacture. I was very fortunate to have a local couple with years of experience running a tailor shop allow me to work part time for them. It was drawing clothing designs that got me started with art. Though I'd submit their clothing design is as much art as any design that is merely aesthetic and not utilitarian. Since my drawings have sold well now I have income to manage and invest and I'm learning about that as I go along. My younger brother has a head for business and helps me."
"You are allowed to work at fifteen? I certainly hope child labor is not winked at on Home. Are your earnings put in trust for you, for your future?"
Lindsey looked at her oddly. "My future has arrived. I'm living today and this isn't a practice run, a hobby, to see if I really want to do these things someday."
"But surely you will want to pursue your education, with a talent like yours go to a college and pursue a degree."
"One college?" Lindsey asked. "I expect to attend different schools, depending on who has the more interesting courses. I expect to keep learning my whole life. I don't need someone to verify they consider me properly educated so I can stop," she said. "That's Earth Think.
The interviewer lifted an eyebrow. "This is a phrase I have not heard. It sounds a little demeaning," she challenged tight lipped. "Would you care to explain it?"
"I'm not sure where I first heard it. It might have been my father's boss. They were discussing taxes and he asked about withholding tax from his wages. They don't do that up here and he remarked it was Earth Think to allow others to coerce you and demand your wealth. If you want to be a voting citizen here you volunteer to pay taxes. If you don't pay you don't vote. And you vote down the line on each item yea or nay if you approve of spending for it. It takes some research and personal effort to know the issues," she explained.
"Our taxes are voluntary too," the lady insisted.
"Oh get real. Who collects them? The tooth fairy? If you don't pay some government goon comes around and shoves a gun up your nose. I'm just a kid and I know that much."
"I understand you mimic what your elders say," she said with a saccharine smile. "But to go back to your art, I understand all your art is drawn from life?"
"Well, some things are pure fantasy. Some of my clothing designs are just art and may never be sewn. And some of my models for them are composites, or people who have aged but I hold in memory fondly. The piece you bought is as true to life as I could make it, both in the timing and the people it portrays."
"So this was a real gun fight, in the cafeteria where your family has to eat?"
"We don't 'have to', but it has great food and we have an account so we can stop there and have what we want any time. They don't do food pyramids and force you to pick groups like we did in Earth schools."
"Aren't you afraid to go back there now? Surely you have had counseling and perhaps medication for the stress?"
"I never heard a gun go off before," Lindsey admitted with a shrug. "Not back on Earth or here on Home until now. It isn't at all like in a video. It's more than loud. It slaps you. They gave me a capsule to keep my hearing from being damaged. I don't need or want anything else. You let them dope you up – do you think I could draw like this full of drugs?" she asked. "No way."
"You didn't run?" the woman persisted.
"Obviously, you've never seen a gun fight. It was maybe ten seconds start to finish. By the time I looked up there was no time to stand up, much less run. It was over. It was kind of gory," she admitted, grimacing.
"My dad's boss Jeff Singh just got grazed across the shoulder. He was the one the Chinese guy was aiming for, but I showed the assassin the instant he was hit, not after, the drawing wouldn't have worked looking from behind him, because the ship captain, the other Chinese guy in the jump suit, shot him in the head and it blew a big spray of pink stuff out behind him," she illustrated it with both hands bursting apart finger spread.
"That would have been just gratuitous to show in the drawing. I'm not going to draw gun porn. I sat and drew the rough sketch while it was fresh in my mind and went home and started on the full size until I could post it. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep until it was done."
The interviewer looked a little pale. She might need some counseling and a couple days off.
"I'd rather not show more of my large drawings on camera, but would you like to see a few of my fashion designs?" Lindsey offered.
"That sounds lovely," the woman agreed, happy to change the subject.
Jon muted the feed, not really interested in the details of fashion design. "It isn't like North America to allow something like this through their filters."
"If I hit China as hard as they may suspect in a few hours, they can say it was no surprise and blow it off as retaliation for the assassination attempt using this as evidence, not about the UN. I think they still believe they can shock that sad old corpse back to life."
"They better hurry. If any of the UN executives we can ID show their face to the sky they're going to get a gift."
Chapter 22
"We have a break out. Mo called us on a handheld about ten minutes ago," Johnson said. "They broke through the surface about thirty kilometers from us. The surface debris that fell in the tunnel was a bit hot. They are sweeping it out and will do a gas flush if they can't get it clean enough that the count is back down where they want. When we get a rover there we'll see if we can plow the hot debris away from the opening down to clean rock."
"I'm assuming everybody is OK? You have no causalities to report?" Jeff asked, irritated that isn't what was reported first.
"Oh no, everybody is fine except one electronics tech who thought about all the rock over him a little too much and gave himself a big dose of claustrophobia. I'd send him out on the first flight if we have room. He's doped up and has been a couple days."
"We'll make room."
"The new landing field here is flat and fused. Some of the people who have been buried are going to want to be evacuated when you can schedule a shuttle to meet the jump bug. I'm attaching a text file of needed supplies for when you can actually land it."
"Did anybody lay a fiber up the tunnel they dug out?"
"No, they didn't have enough."
"We'll send fiber. Did you at least task somebody with updating Heather on the militia actions against the UN and the assassination attempt on me?"
"Yes, I was surprised the militia hasn't done anything to China myself."
"I'm going to strike China myself in about two hours," Jeff told him. "I published notice to them so the militia has been dealing with the UN, figuring I'd get to China soon enough."
"Oh, well I don't think she'll argue with that," Mo said. "She's pretty pissed about all the roads and surface work gone and a big crater. She's been trying to figure out how to back-fill it without the job taking a couple decades."
"That's a problem. It's just on the back-burner right now as far as I'm concerned."
"OK, I'll tell her about the China strike. By the time I talk to her again it will have happened. We are supposed to meet at the tunnel... Well I don't want to say where in the clear. I'm still paranoid. We're going to meet at a set time so they don't have to sit waiting in p-suits and we don't have to sit on the hot debris in a rover. We're going to add some shielding to the rover floors under the seats to cut the gamma coming up through the floor. In another two weeks it will be much lower, but nobody wants to wait that long."
"That all sounds good. I'll tell you what happened after we deal with China," Jeff said. "Talk again in about eight hours?"
"Works for me. I'm about to get some sleep, so talk to you in my morning."
"Thanks Bo, you're doing a super job. Jeff, out here," he said rather formally.
* * *
April, Gunny, Eddie Persico, April's grandfather Happy and Louis, a hired man Jeff used for com work gathered in his office. At their request Chen, who worked with a security group, was sitting in as a China expert. In the case of Eddie his security work was a euphemism for spying and the results were fed to Jeff, April and Heather as well as Eddie. He knew that. He wasn't comfortable being there, for a number of reasons and his face showed it, but he was present. A Solar coin a quarter and all sorts of information meant he couldn't afford to throw away his relationship with Eddie. He did ask and make sure, he was out of the camera view on their com board.
"Louis, we know my letter was published and the Chinese government has to be aware of it, but try contacting them anyhow and see what they say."
Louis tried the address Earth Traffic Control had given them before for the air traffic controllers in China. They had passed them along to the military without giving an address. Maybe they'd do it again.
"I'm getting an automated text message that communications from our entire domain are blocked," Louis said quickly.
"Well, it's not like they list their numbers in the public directories. We tried," Jeff said.
"If I may suggest..."
Everybody turned and looked at Chen.
"I can call somebody inside the state security apparatus," he offered, reversing his previous desire for anonymity.
"Be my guest," Jeff said moving his chair away from the com console, he was still moving carefully and favored his hurt shoulder. Louis quickly did the same and allowed Chen room right in front of the camera. He brought his chair along, half folded because the room was that crowded and made himself comfortable, hesitating thoughtfully and then cutting the camera angle down to just himself.
He set the board up for a telephone conference, with the video on. In the upper left of the screen it showed 011-86-137-999-5151 as he typed from memory. There was a short wait while it was answered. The man who came on was a bit older than Chen and in a uniform. He was in a vehicle, they could see the edge of a headrest behind him. He appeared to be talking to them on a larger tablet form computer instead of a smaller phone, both arms coming in on the edges of the picture to hold it. He obviously had pulled over and parked to answer.
"Haaa! You have lot of nerve to show your face, impudent dog! The translation program scrolled in English captions on the bottom edge. "Aren't you afraid I'll back trace your location?"
"Go ahead," Chen invited. "You can't reach where I am."
The fellow scowled and must have split his screen, one hand working the touch screen just below the narrowed camera view.
"OK, you are off world. That doesn't surprise me. What possible business do you have with me? Do you really imagine there can be any forgiveness? Are you looking for a pardon?"
"Not at all. I have intelligence. You always treated me fairly, I'm going to give you a free tip. The young fellow on Home, Singh? I assume you are aware of the short statement, call it a manifesto he published?"
"Yes. It wasn't made public here of course. Why publish slander? But the higher authorities are aware of the threat."
"Are you aware the Sovereignty of Central on the moon destroyed all but one of the fleet sent against Home? And that lone survivor surrendered?"
"No, but as you know I am not involved with space operations. Why would I be informed?" he said with an indifferent shrug. But his eyes were not indifferent.
"You wouldn't I suppose. But in my new life, in my new career, I am associated with a new intelligence network, which looks into matters in a number of nations. I am very aware and certain, that if there is no response to that manifesto, then China will receive another blow just like was directed at Jiuquan, within the hour."
"This is known already at the highest levels. Why tell me what is already known?"
"But do they believe?" Chen asked.
"I have to assume so. The capacity was as you say, demonstrated. But do you really expect them to capitulate over such a threat? They can drop another or ten more and China will still be here. It is vast and can sustain much loss. Whereas Home is small and when we finally strike and get through, the matter will be settled, permanently. That is how my superiors view matters. They have been candid about it. I agree with them actually. If Home can kill half our nation and we kill three thousand of them, we still win. They will not be turned away from their resolve by any punishment this boy can inflict. I'll not pass on a threat they already know. It might make me appear to be wavering and not have the confidence or resolve they do."
"I have nothing to add then. Are you in Beijing, Li?"
"Yes, are you going to urge me to flee?" he asked with a sneer.
"Not at all. This boy has made promises to others not to destroy the treasures of the city by completely destroying the city, the whole district really, so I encourage you to stay there. It will prove much safer than anywhere else. I have no idea what his targets will be, but Beijing is safe."
"I'm so glad I have your permission to stay. If you have nothing further, I have a meeting to attend and traffic is abominable. I may be late even without talking to you."
"I thank you for taking time then, to listen. Perhaps we'll speak again. Good-bye." He disconnected and returned the board to the previous state and moved his chair back.
"Well you read the translation I believe. It seemed accurate enough. Any questions?"
"No. Thanks for trying Chen, Jeff said."
"That's OK, it was kind of fun. He was squirming a little. You'd have to know him and the language to recognize it, but he isn't as hard line party supporting as his demeanor suggested. He has to talk like that knowing everything on his state issued phone is monitored and analyzed.
"OK, I'm going to drop one large weapon on a very sparsely populated area in south western China. However, if I am right it will have a far ranging effect." He brought a map up on the screen, zoomed in a little and put a cross hairs on the edge of a body of water.
"This is the Liyuan Dam, right on the edge of Tibet. I'm dropping a weapon in the reservoir, to the back, away from the dam. Water being incompressible it will transmit the blast all across the concrete face of the rock filled dam. If it does what I expect, it will take the entire dam down.
"Is this a dam that produces electric power?" April asked.
"Yes, it is but that wasn't my primary reason for picking it. I expect the wall of water headed down stream will take out the Ahai Dam down river. When that goes it should take down the Jinanqiao and Longaikou Dam, which in turn will overwhelm the Ludila Dam and the Guanyingyan Dam. Then the Wudongde, the Baihetan, the Xiluodu, the Xiangjiaba, the Three Gorges Dam and lastly the Gezhouba Dam."
"Oh..." Chen started and cut off what he was going to say. "You are going to strip out the entire Yangtze River basin, clear to Shanghai."
"Basically, yeah, if it works."
"How many tons, how many cubic meters of water are we talking here?" April asked, remembering how much water they were getting back from the Snowball mission.
"You are asking the wrong question," Chen answered before Jeff could respond. "You need to ask how many cubic kilometers of water."
April just looked dazed. You could see the mental wheels turning as she absorbed that.
"They say they can absorb the damage," Jeff reminded them. He seemed sad.
"What if they refuse to surrender?" Gunny asked.
"They have other rivers. I doubt they can suddenly install high level ballistic defenses on all of them quickly. Or I may chose a target that will have defenses. I'd have to use up some rods and secondary warheads to get through, but it can be done."
"What sort of a target would be worth doing that?" Chen asked Jeff, worried.
"Qingdao , home of the North Fleet occurred to me. Home I understand, to the most advanced submarine forces, so it is a legitimate military target." Jeff could see Chen was distressed. "Do you want to call back and tell your old boss what will happen, more specifically?" Jeff asked. "Do you think it would make any difference?"
Chen thought on it a minute. "No, it would trouble him more, I'm sure. It's troubling me. But for him to react and send the warning on would still be suicide. Not just to his career, but literally. They would put him against a wall and shoot him. Charged with undermining morale."
"I understand," Jeff said. He looked at the cross hairs on the water, the image from a geostationary satellite leased and placed for this one purpose. It was early morning at the dam. He typed in a sequence that displayed on the screen as a line of asterisks and hit Enter without drama or hesitation. He didn't look happy at all.
"How long will this take?" April asked. "Chen said to Shanghai. That's on the coast isn't it?"
"Yeah, well over three thousand kilometers to the east. I'm not sure. If it takes over a day to get all the way to where it discharges into the sea it won't surprise me."
"Are you going to sit and watch it until night?" Gunny asked.
"No. Once I see it takes the first couple dams out I'm going to go eat and sleep and just check back now and then. Louis will be here until Martin Broman relieves him later. When we went through this with Jiuquan I tried to stay up for days and got so tired I didn't have good judgment. I'm not going to do that again, but I'll keep the office open for anybody that wants to follow it. The satellite can still see in infrared at night, even through a moderate cloud cover. So night is no impedance."
There was a flash that dimmed the screen out in overload for an instant. The a spreading cloud that obscured what was happening underneath. Nobody said anything. Louis adjusted the view zooming back a little and shifting it north east. Eventually there was a white line that crept out from under the cloud of steam and debris. It didn't look like anything of consequence. I thin white cord, crawling like a snake along the river course. They didn't ask for Louis to zoom in again. He might be able to zoom so close in apparent height they'd see too much.
"I'm sorry," Jeff said. He didn't turn his head or address anyone by name, not even Chen, just sat looking at the screen. After a bit they figured out he wasn't talking to them.
* * *
Their satellite wasn't the only one that could see China. When Jeff had confronted China before over the seizure of Eddie's Rascal, it had stayed private until he struck their spaceport to destroy the vessel. He'd communicated with their military, but this time it was entirely a public matter, news organizations having received his notice openly. A lot of people were watching to see what would happen at the end of Jeff's forty eight hours. Some expected a massive strike or at least an attack on a prominent military base or city.
The few surveillance satellites free for hire were leased and retasked as soon as the manifesto went out. They weren't as good as military models, but there were still more of them, since so many military sats had been destroyed during the Home – North America war. They were still somewhat down in number due to reduced launch capacity.
Commercial satellites with a resolution under twenty centimeters were uncommon and expensive. There just wasn't much need for them to justify the cost. However, you didn't need one of that sort to see a wall of water a hundred meters high, sweeping both banks of the flood plain bare on both sides of the normal river channel. Several spotted the detonation in the reservoir and followed the flood downstream. After the next two dams went down with no discernible hesitation on being overwhelmed and just added their volume, it was obvious nothing would stop the flood short of the sea.
China immediately attempted to call an emergency session of the Security Council to protest this attack and to ask for action against Home. Even while cities downstream were being ineffectively evacuated and before the wall of water reached the sea. The only way such a counter attack would take place was if North America was forced by international pressure to supply the ships to carry it out. No other countries had ships that could reach L2, conduct operations and return to Earth orbit without docking and refueling.
The problem was there was no President of the Council to preside and when they called a meeting to elect one, nobody responded. Where they would have met would have been a serious problem too. Offering to host them made your building a target. The fact nobody stepped forth to assume the vacant offices of the UN or a call to meet was a temporary problem. Most of this became apparent within a day and China did not have time for a leisurely resolution to deal with Home.
The longer term problem was member dues stopped flowing in. There was no discussion on it. Transfers just stopped being made. So the support people who actually made the decisions of the Executive happen, stopped coming to work. They didn't receive a pay check when the infrastructure and bureaucracy for issuing it was destroyed and funds dried up.
Also, as lesser facilities such as storage depots for the light armor UN Peacekeepers used in their missions were identified and bombarded in the night, it became clear it wasn't safe to show up to work for the organization. Even if you weren't an executive.
The various small offices and warehouse facilities for UN charities and enforcement in poorer nations didn't have to be bombarded. When the employees missed one payday and saw they'd likely never get paid, that the organization was powerless, they stripped the facilities to the bare walls and in some cases burned the buildings after looting them.
* * *
Jon appeared on Jeff's screen, scowling, not angry, but concerned. "I have reports of an earthquake in Chongqing. You aren't using your stepmom's gravitational weapon on them are you? A lot of people know or suspect we caused the Great San Diego earthquake during the war. I'd hoped not to do that again since the first time was accidental. It's an extreme and very imprecise weapon. We usually know when we are shooting into fault lines."
"No, you can check the logs. I haven't got access to the militia platforms and none of our ships have been in position to use them. It's probably my fault though, pardon my pun..."
"How would it be your fault then?" Jon asked honestly puzzled.
"Well, when you suddenly release hundreds of millions of tons of water the land has become accustomed to supporting, quickly add to it, until literally billions of tons are moving across the bedrock as fast as a ground car, it can provoke a fault slip. Especially if it's been awhile since the last earthquake and the stresses have built up again, ready to be triggered."
"Thank you. I'm sorry if I seemed confrontational."
"I wouldn't step things up a notch and punch holes in a fault line without telling you and consulting with my mom," Jeff promised.
"Thank you. I'll repeat that about the weight of the water if anybody asks me."
* * *
"You look so serious this morning," Deloris accused him.
"I have mail from April. She said Jeff bombarded China when they refused to acknowledge the L1 limit. She said he bombed a dam way up a river that will cause a whole line of dams to fail below it, like dominoes. I worry where all this will lead. I don't like to see them hurting people, but I have no idea what any alternative would be. I don't know why the damned Chinese can't just go away and leave us alone."
"The intelligence of any human system is inversely proportional to the number of people in it," Deloris proclaimed solemnly.
"Who said that?" Barak wondered.
"I did! Oh, I imagine somebody has made that observation before, but I wasn't quoting a known source. It seems almost obvious if you study history, or just watch people."
Barak nodded. "I could stand to know more history. Detailed history, not broad facts about entire eras. There aren't enough hours to know it all."
"You have the inside scoop on a lot of the history being made right now. You should write the history of Home."
"Maybe I'll do that. So I can put in all the things I think are important. And tell what kind of people made the history, because I don't see that in most of the history I've read. The only history book I saw that did that was a military history about the American Civil war April's grandpa had. It told what the generals were like, smart, stubborn, quick to take offense, full of vices and short comings off the battle field in some cases, or cocksure that led to being dead."
"I said you have high powered friends. Not many people could write that book."
"On the plus side, my sister, Heather and all her people survived and dug themselves out at Central. Now they have to start building again and fill a big hole in."
"I'm glad. You can stop worrying about them so intently."
"Was it that obvious?"
"Yes."
"You're right. The immediate crisis is resolved and I can relax a little. It's hard knowing what is going on, but being so far away there's nothing I can do."
"Has Harold been nasty with you, training you for back-up to do lab work?" she asked, scrutinizing him closely.
"Not at all!" Barak protested surprised. "He jokes around and tells endless stories about himself. He loves telling stories about when he lived in Thailand and then the Philippines before coming up to Home. I don't have to say much at all, just grunt or look up once in awhile and he's as happy as if he had a big audience."
"It doesn't drive you nuts?"
"Not at all. It's like having music playing in the background. You can ignore it. Understand, I don't believe the stories, or worry about them. A few I've already heard twice or three times."
"I suppose they are all about him?"
"Mostly, although there are a few supporting actors like guys he worked with, or the bartender at his favorite open air bar in Manila. You know he's totally self absorbed, so why would you expect anything else? If he tells a story about a sports team it's about how he bet on one of their games. Or if he got drunk and thrown in jail, it's about how he avoided a much worse fate than he deserved."
"You have more patience than me," she acknowledged.
"It's only another year and a few months," he laughed.
"With that attitude, you are a natural for a starship," Deloris decided.
Chapter 23
The headline fairly screamed bloody murder:
The Independent News, London
Spacers Deliver on Threat – China Ravaged
The body of the article did mention they had attacked the moon and it did say they'd been served warning they must agree to stay out of deep space with weapons, but April wondered how many would read any more than the headline.
A Russian paper wasn't much better, not losing any love for the Chinese, but bitter over the targeting of their ambassador to the UN. They fell back on asserting treaties a hundred years old that gave Earth authority to parcel out anything beyond the atmosphere as the common heritage of mankind. Earth governments were big on sharing other people's property.
April wondered if she went back far enough, whether she couldn't find some document that would justify her to divvying up Russia up among her friends and allies. Maybe she could find some ancestors who lived in a neighboring country in conflict, or just have Heather grant her rights.
The video nets were worse. Showing the wave of water sweeping away classic Chinese buildings having the tile roofs with upswept corners everyone recognized. Cars tumbling down stream like toys and refugees, especially children, huddled in blankets waiting to be taken away in military trucks.
Nobody showed the crater at Central or the fact Home had children China was willing to blow to plasma.
The only news service that tried to contact Jeff was the Disney News Channel. Jeff offered an interview only if they ran it uncut, including what he'd just said about it being unedited. They weren't desperate enough to take those terms. He issued a new letter.
Jefferson Moses Singh, Citizen of Home, Peer of Central's Sovereign 4/20/2087
To the People's Republic of China, Beijing, Earth: Through broadcast and news releases.
The People's Republic has still not satisfied us they will desist from aggression beyond L1. If no public repudiation of their actions is received we shall continue to make war upon them and make another major blow within approximately 48 hours.
No regulation of a telegraphy authority or agreement between Earth powers a century old has valid authority over free people who are living in conditions and environments unimagined a century ago. This makes as much sense as Spain trying to annex South America based on a papal land grant from the 1400s.
We are willing to reduce China to a minor unindustrialized nation with a vastly reduced population if that is what is necessary to make them acknowledge our right to self determination and freedom from aggression. Indeed I am prepared to reduce them to the point they are not a danger even if they never yield and make such a statement. Because they will not be able to project any authority or force beyond their own borders.
Think carefully if your neighbors will not divide you up and end your existence as a whole, if you are reduced to that point. We have no designs on your land. But you have others around you who have reason to fear you, may want China never to rise to power again.
Jefferson M. Singh
"Jon, what would you do? Should I hit another river system, or should I strike the naval base for the Northern Fleet?" Jeff asked. "The rainy season starts soon and the river flowing open and unimpeded is likely to give them a lot of trouble all by itself."
"Stripping out the dams and using the river as a weapon is very effective for hurting them financially. It is causing them a lot of trouble from the hydro power lost and it stripped out a lot of planted crop lands, but it only hit their military in a small incidental way. Public opinion will understand striking a military base a lot more than a dam. They may only see that as inflicting unnecessary hardship on civilians."
"OK. That's what I'll do. I have enough rods and small warheads to get through to a well defended target. I'm not sure I can do it twice though. Not in another two or three days. I have orders in for rods but everybody is busy. If I let up they may get the idea I'm faltering."
"If you hit a military target again after this one, I'll release militia owned rods for you."
"I'm going to adjust the weapon back to about eight or ten megaton and drop it right outside the harbor mouth, letting it sink to the bottom. Dave assures me it is sealed up water tight and good for two hundred meters. Otherwise it will completely remove the adjacent town. Why in the world do they build a big base right up against a huge city? It's stupid to make them one target."
"They both need the harbor," Jon explained. "You'd have to see Earth storms and how badly a ship needs protection near the shore to understand. There aren't that many places with a good natural harbor to split them up either."
"Thanks. When we vacationed on a ship we didn't see a big storm this time. April had horror stories about being in one. She'd probably understand better. Thanks Jon."
"No problem. Incidentally, there isn't much with UN blue on it left that's worth expending a rod. If we see any high ranking target in China we will take it out. But not just to knock down a building and risk killing some poor janitor."
"Thanks Jon. Heather and a couple more from Central will be back on Home for a few days. Then she feels she needs to be back even if they are roughing it again. By the time she gets back the short half life stuff will have eased off quite a bit. They'll at least start doing perimeter roads again. How we're going to fill the crater back in, I'm still not sure."
* * *
Margaret Detweiler was running the security station when the shuttle from New Las Vegas came in. The usual Earth tourists, Vegas workers taking a cheap holiday off station, who didn't have the funds to visit Earth, returning gamblers and travelers who connected through that hub came pouring out. What she did not expect was a Chinese officer in full dress uniform. The Earthie version, not a ship's uniform.
The fellow approached her with the oddest expression, then she realized he was terrified. How odd. She thought briefly of a suicide bomb, then dismissed it. The chemical sensor board in front of her would warn of all but the most exotic metallic explosives. The camera would tell the story to her boss if he blew himself up. Nothing he could fit on or in his body could significantly damage the station here, so she stopped worrying about it. He stopped at her security lectern and stood so rigidly that for an instant she thought he was going to salute.
"I'm not sure of your procedures. Do you want to see my passport?" he asked.
"No need. We don't use passports so we don't require them. If you'll just touch the DNA reader plate," she pointed to the gray ceramic plate, "and declare what name you wish to use, you are free to enter."
"Even with all the trouble between Home and China?" he asked, surprised. "I am grateful, but what if I were here for mischief?"
"Not to speak ill of your countrymen, but there have been a few here to conduct assassinations. It did not go well for them. We hope someone may eventually notice that and modify their conduct. I apologize. I'm not sufficiently informed of your service's insignia to address you by your rank."
"It has no value here," he said, shrugging and touching the plate, "and very soon it may have no value to me, so just be aware I am Jason Dia."
"Jason seems like it would be an uncommon Chinese name."
"My parents were artists and big fans of a painter, Jason De Graaf. If you have a western name that isn't overtly religious or political, like Moses Dia, or Abraham Lincoln Dia, the authorities are actually very tolerant of it."
"Can you legally change your name in China? Or does it just close doors to you?"
He smiled. "They will change your name for you! Upon your enlistment for example."
"Wow, sure you don't want to change it or add anything on? We don't care here."
"I am content with what my parents gave me, but thank you. I do need to ask your help on another matter. I am here with no authority. Worse really. I'm here in active opposition to my government and if the other conspirators fail in their part...It won't go well for me. I understand the head of your security division is a Mr. Jon Davis. Could you send word up your line of command in your organization, that Jason Dia requests an interview about a matter having some urgency? If he can also inform Mr. Jefferson Moses Singh of what I tell him, it is of vital importance."
"When this shuttle is empty and the crew either comes on station, or buttons up I can take you to Jon myself," Margaret offered. "Just plant yourself out of the way. It'll only be a few minutes." In zero G one place was as good as another and Jason found a place to hover.
Two more passengers checked in, burdened by luggage that made them slower. Then there was some clunking and thumps felt through the decking.
"OK," she said, powering down and packing up her equipment, "the shuttle decided to park off station until they do a departure in about six hours. I guess they didn't want to pay dockage or rent a hot slot for such a brief stay. I'm done here so let's go see Jon. I dropped him a text."
The young man handled himself with a confidence that said he wasn't new to zero G. He didn't offer any conversation however. Margaret decided it would be counterproductive to pump him, unless he asked for privacy, Jon would probably let her stay and listen.
They got a few curious looks along the way. You didn't see many people in any sort of uniform, much less formal Earth style uniforms. Ship's uniforms were all much more subdued and utilitarian. Gunny had drawn a few stares in his full dress USNA Marines blues the couple times he went out in them. They were pretty stylish. The Chinese uniform wasn't as easy on the eyes in her opinion, but the gold trim, bright scarlet shoulder boards and band on the ridiculous hat certainly caught people's eyes.
On the other hand the young man was getting an eye full too. There were quite a few locals out in the corridors and easily half were carrying arms openly. He showed no surprise at it until a fellow went past them the other way with an antique Browning Automatic Rifle slung across his back. Despite its age it looked like it was meant for business, not simply a curio. That finally made him look over his shoulder to get a good look at it.
Margaret palmed the lock-plate and took them in their offices. They had to wind through an outer office with desks crammed so close it was cramped passing through. That was even though the desks were compact compared to most on Earth. Jon's door was drawn open and Margaret stopped to announced them there.
"Well come in!" Jon gruffly bellowed. The officer hesitated like he might change his mind right there. Margaret quickly stepped in the tiny office to demonstrate it was safe. He followed, but timidly, then looked around with clear surprise on his face. Margaret wonder why, then realized it was because the office was so small and plain. In fact there was only one chair for a visitor, only room for one chair and Margaret being first in had taken it. He expected a lot more of a status display for the head of security. Jon however understood right away.
"It isn't much to look at is it? Don't mean a damn thing. We don't set much stock in show."
"I could get used to that," Jason said very seriously. "It grows wearisome, the displays and arguing about exactly how big a desk your pay grade entitles you."
Margaret introduced Jason, though she'd mentioned his name in the text.
"Thio! Bring this young man a chair," Jon shouted again. He had an intercom, it was in plain sight on the man's desk, with a phone and computer. Apparently he just favored yelling.
An older lady with a squinty suspicious expression brought one of the folding chairs so common on habitats and pushed it in the doorway for him.
"Thanks," the Ogre rumbled. He was large and intimidating. His head perfectly hairless and a neck like a bull. The odd thing was even speaking normally his voice had power, like a stage actor who could project without a microphone clear to the back row of seats.
"Coffee?" Jon asked. The switch was unnerving. He was suddenly the solicitous host and gave him a charming smile that appeared sincere.
"That would be most welcome." Now that he was here, it was suddenly hard to start his tale. He was more used to tea, but any distraction was welcome.
"Thio, three coffees please," he called with a bit more restraint and sat back with his huge arms folded over his chest, suddenly patient now.
"You handle yourself well in zero G," Margaret complimented him.
Jason suddenly wondered if they were working him as a team. Sort of a Mutt and Jeff...
"I was stationed with our contingent at ISSII and I've served on Chinese only stations. I may not look like it dressed like this for Earth, but I've a lot of LEO service."
"Why the grounder suit then?" Margaret asked, by all appearances honestly puzzled.
"My commander arranged travel orders back to China for me, with a transfer at New Las Vegas. I am dressed appropriately for travel, to get off the shuttle in Hong Kong and report for duty. If all goes well my orders will not show up Earthside, if we get the cooperation there we need, so it won't matter when I don't show up...I hope."
"You are AWOL then?" Jon asked. At the blank look he got Jon elaborated, "Absent Without Leave."
"Ah, yes, one never stops learning English. I am indeed illegally absent, as soon as my commanding officer can no longer cover for me. A greater risk right now for him than me, as I am outside their immediate grasp."
"What is your message that's worth such effort to bring us?" Jon finally asked.
"I am here to plead your forbearance and patience, to refrain from major actions against China for as many days as you will give me. It isn't something I ask only for us. It can have potential benefits for Home too."
"My, you'll have to elaborate on that," Jon asked.
"We are conspiring to overthrow our government. It is no easy task as you can imagine. It's actually harder because it was done so recently and the danger of it is fresh in mind, making people wary. If you are engaging in military action against China it works against us. Unfortunately, nothing unifies a people like an outside threat. It makes people willing to put up with all sorts of nonsense until the outside threat is dealt with. It is our firm intention to renounce the current position of the government with respect to both Home and claims on the rest of the solar system. There simply wasn't any other secure way to get this to you. We couldn't accept the risk of having our whole scheme laid bare. We assume all com traffic exiting Home to be insecure."
Neither Jon nor Margaret said anything, refusing to pose questions yet.
"Not that we wouldn't be happy to avoid another bombardment like Liyuan," he hastened to add into the silence, "but that isn't my purpose or primary mission."
"You just had a revolution or a coup, whatever you want to call it. We thought you'd leave us be for awhile, at least a few years. What happened?" Jon asked.
"The big error was moderation." He closed his eyes like it was a painful memory. "Revolution should never be moderate. They didn't go down the line and remove enough of the bureaucracy. The two principals of the coup thought their power was consolidated, right up until their own guards arrested them. The sheer mass of reactionaries in opposition took less than a year to undo what they had accomplished. When you have layers and layers of officials who fear for their privilege and position you must purge entire agencies. It is one error I am sure my superiors will not make this time," he said, grimly.
"You want me to communicate this to Jeff Singh?" Jon asked.
"Yes, I understand you are both at war with us, but we don't understand your differences or why there are two lines of command. If you are on good terms to speak with him, would you tell him we desperately want to conduct a coup, but actively prosecuting the war will not help that happen at all? We are so close, but it could all be swept away."
"I'll let you plead your own case to him, but on com if you don't mind. I don't think I'd want to have you in the same room without a full body scan."
"You worry we'd send a suicide bomber?" he asked surprised.
"Jeff is a high value target. And he has faced assassination attempts before. So yes, that wouldn't surprise me," Jon said. "There are low volatile explosives that are quite hard to detect."
"I have never known our service to do that, but I respect your caution. Yet you bring me into your own office," His voice made it a question.
"I'm replaceable," Margaret told him, refraining from making that judgment about Jon. She left it to him to infer the balancing statement about Jeff.
"Margaret, there's a couple empty desks out there. Set Jason up with a pad and connect him to Jeff. Give them privacy. As much as anyone gets in this circus," he ordered.
Jason was taken to a corner desk, the com gear on it ignored and given a pad after Jeff was called up on it and asked if he'd speak with the man. They didn't try unduly to assure him he had privacy. There were too many ways they could eavesdrop if they wanted and he wasn't stupid. The young man spoke low and earnestly to Jeff for some minutes. When he stopped he looked stunned and pushed the pad away from him on the desk, visibly finished, but he made no move to rejoin them or get up.
Finally Margaret went over and took the interview seat beside the desk. "Is there anything else you need? Are you going to speak with him again, or waiting on a reply?"
"No. I laid my case before him and expected a bit more discussion, perhaps some token of our earnest or further proof there was such a plot hatching. Instead he just agreed. He said he'd suspend bombardment, wait at least two weeks and watch for signs there was some internal action in China. He said he'd publish a halt notice for China, but not the UN and if I had further information when the two weeks approached to contact him, because he'd resume if there was no evidence of any coup. He didn't ponder it at all, or display any emotion. He was just very decisive and so cold about it I found it frightening."
"The young man is brilliant in specific ways," Margaret assured him. "But he sometimes lacks the ability to be subtle in social things and may lack understanding of what motivates other people. I know he isn't what you would consider normal, but I can't always predict exactly how he'll be different."
"He didn't ask any proof of my identity or association."
"And what proof could you offer that wasn't suspect, or wouldn't destroy the secrecy that you are trying to preserve? So why waste time and effort to ask for it? Showing up in uniform, entirely out of place here was the best proof he'll get. If you should turn out to be a ploy to simply buy your nation some time and he finds later he was fooled, what has he lost by waiting a few days? And how do you think he would react to being deceived?"
"It's personal isn't it?" he asked, upset. "I've never thought of war that way. I mean, in war as in everything, we are trained that the individual is nothing and the collective everything." He stopped and thought about it a bit. "I was wrong. Even while I was speaking with him just now I was wrong. It shocked me how quickly I was able to speak to him directly and that still didn't instruct me how wrong I was. In China I'd have been days speaking to officials, slowly working up to somebody with command authority. Even then, that person wouldn't have the freedom to act without considering his peers and the support of all the organizations under him. He couldn't just decide what he wanted like ordering coffee or tea with his meal. That sort of power is like...well, like an Emperor. I lucked out influencing him, when I didn't really know what I was dealing with." He folded his arms around himself and rocked a bit in the seat, still overwhelmed with the enormity of his realization.
"The customs of your village are not the laws of the universe," Margaret said, amused.
"China is not a village," he still managed to automatically object.
"Earth is looking more and more like a single squabbling village down at the bottom of its gravity well," Margaret informed him. "The further away we get, the more it all looks the same. North America or China or Italy, Russia or Sweden. What is the real difference between them? They all are a bunch of crooks looting their peasants while bickering about their status with each other and which looting system is best. I swear sometimes I think stupid flows downhill too."
Jason just looked at her like she was babbling. He'd made one vast mental adjustment on his own just now and that was as much as he could absorb today.
"Look, let's get you some civilian clothing. If you keep parading around in the corridors in uniform word might get back to the wrong people. Information can find the weirdest channels and get loose. Especially if an image with your face gets out. Did you bring any luggage?"
"No, but I have funds. I didn't own any civilian dress on ISSII. You don't take uniforms back to Earth when it costs so much to bring them up, so luggage would have been out of character. It was hard enough to get me here with a cold trail. There was never any plan to quietly repatriate me. If the coup is defeated I'd be a dead man to go back. My commander was quite candid and said if I wait here and nothing happens but my comrades quietly disappear, I best stay and try to make the best of things. It would beat returning to slow death in a forced labor camp."
"Well that's a cheery thought. Lets me take a few basic measurements and I'll go get you a few ready to wear things at the ships chandlery. Do you have any favorite colors?"
"Anything that isn't khaki and red will be a welcome change."
"I'll bring them back and let you change in the restroom here. There's no shower, but you can wash up at the sink. Then I imagine you are hungry. You haven't had anything from before the shuttle, right?"
"Yes, but it is by no means a hardship yet. Do you intend to keep me in custody?"
"Why would we?" Margaret asked, looking at him strangely.
"You might regard me as a hazard," he started and stopped abruptly. "Why am I asking you to lock me up? I'm not usually this dense," he said embarrassed.
"You might wish protective custody," she suggested. "We had one sleeper come out of the woodwork recently. You don't know if there are any more by any chance? Any who could make you just by your face?"
"That sort of thing only our intelligence officer would know on ISSII and being short crewed he's the political officer too. POs don't make friends. If the PO suddenly wants to be your drinking buddy you have a problem."
"Well, I'll get you a cafeteria card on the Security Department's accounts and we can help you with a room for a few nights, but if you have a card or letter of credit I'd suggest you convert as much as can be drawn safely to cash quickly. Home is an expensive place to live. If things go to hell in a hurry, like you are hoping, your money might get cut off. Then the only option you really have is to get a job. Do you have any skills?" she worried.
"I'm a bilingual weapons officer on a ship. I'm really good at killing people," he admitted.
"Oh good, that's always in demand," Margaret said, relieved.
Chapter 24
Jefferson Moses Singh, Citizen of Home, Peer of Central's Sovereign 4/30/2087
To the People's Republic of China, Beijing, Earth: Through broadcast and news releases.
Active bombardment of China is suspended while we examine some ways to resolve the conflict. Hostilities to the criminal cartel known as the UN, or actions in self defense continue, as well as an active embargo of armed Earth ships past the L1 point.
Jefferson M. Singh
* * *
Jeff was having breakfast with Eddie, discussing business and intelligence that touched on business and more. They went off toward the back wall, where the Assembly platform was put up from time to time. Away from the coffee pot and too many ears. He stopped talking however because a young woman approached carrying a tray. Eddie looked over his shoulder to see what Jeff was watching. She wasn't just seeking the back wall for her own privacy. That could have been accomplished by taking a vacant table two or three away. They were available.
"Hello, you're Jeff Singh, aren't you? May I join you for lunch and ask a few questions?"
"Yes, I'm Jeff, but I was having a discussion with my associate here. Perhaps another time? What is your name and what would you like to ask me?" He was genuinely puzzled.
"I'm Joan Morgan and I'm the new stringer for BBC for Home and the moon. I wanted to ask you about your last letter to China and how you might resolve it. I'm newly registered on Home net, if you get some time drop me a message and I'll meet you anywhere. Or if you see me here give a wave and I'll join you." She didn't push, but turned and went to find another table.
"She's too polite. She wouldn't last a day, giving up so easily, trying to interview politicians Earthside," Eddie said.
"But this isn't Earth," Jeff reminded him. "She didn't offend me and I might actually talk to her some time. If she'd gotten pushy I'd never consider giving her an interview."
"To what end? Can you tell her what she wants to know?"
"Not on China." Jeff thought on it a bit. "I should have phrased it different. It allows too much speculation. It fairly begs for questions and I can't address them."
"Even with me?"
"Oh no. You're an ally. And you know how to keep your mouth shut. I was going to fill you in. I just got caught up in some chit-chat when you first sat down. We had a fellow sent, supposedly as a courier from some conspirators yesterday. He says there is an active coup plot unwinding in China, that may resolve our conflict, because the new regime would be friendlier."
"Again? They just had one. I know some people who change their underwear less frequently."
"What's underwear?" Jeff asked facetiously, before Eddie could turn it personal. He saw the gleam in his eye and knew there was a nasty punch line coming.
"It an Earthie religious thing," was the best he could do, defused before he could deliver it.
"Do you want to interview the fellow?" Jeff offered. He leaned to the side, unconscious of his new habit and stretched his bad shoulder, pulling that arm across his chest with the other hand. Then straightened up and tilted his neck to the opposite side.
"No, I want Chen to interview him for us." Chen was a former Chinese spy and on Eddie and Jeff's payroll at a Solar a quarter.
"Should you introduce him to the fellow who defected with his ship?" Jeff asked.
"Now that's an interesting question. He indicated he's qualified as a weapons officer for their ships. Maybe they could even use him. But I wonder how much they'd trust each other? And if they would even agree to meet if they aren't just brought together without asking."
"That might not be a good idea to surprise them. It could erode trust in us. You might ask Jon about introducing them. They have him put up in a safe room. I'll call and ask Jon to arrange a meeting with Chen, so it doesn't look hardball to the guy. Offer him something, not a big bribe, but some sort of favor for cooperating. He's talked to me on comm so he knows my face. You can pull me in conference if he needs to see a familiar face."
"If he doesn't want to get involved with the Chinese ship crew perhaps I send him to those North American lieutenants, Friedman and Brockman, who Satos rescued. They have the security guys off ISSII working with them, but they still aren't very skilled in zero G themselves, so Jason might be of use to them. I've had a good experience whenever they have had something for me to do. It would be a little favor to point him at some employment with either and while I'm at it I'll see what is to be known about Joan Morgan," he promised.
* * *
Johnson parked the rover right by the tunnel opening. There was a fresh pressure curtain just inside, about twenty meters from where the overhead ended and the tunnel opened to the sky. The tunnel wasn't anywhere near up to pressure, so everybody passed through in sealed suits. The bottom continued up at an angle for another thirty meters in a ramp, easily walked, until it reached a flat area. The loose debris was pushed back in an oval big enough for both rovers to park, but just one was waiting for Heather and three others to board.
The radiation level was going down rapidly as the short lived isotopes decayed. Plowing the surface debris down to the base layer around the opening helped that. The flat area was fused as well as and a roadway passing out through a notch in the ring of plowed soil. The fused parking area had also been blown clean so they wouldn't track hot regolith into the rover.
When she got inside Heather was surprised to find the deck covered with grey beads, Her feet sank in them a little and she had to walk cautiously.
"What is all this, Johnson? Did something bust open and spill?"
"We needed some shielding to cut down the Gamma from the hot soil. We'd have used gravel, but it breaks down and makes dust when you walk on it, even if you clean it to start. So we went down the road toward Armstrong, out of the hot area and magnetically separated a bunch of iron. You know they have been sintering it to make stuff. We had a separator, but we had no way to sinter sheets, so it's basically BBs. It was easy to rig a laser sintering tool to make them. It worked out better actually. Forming sheets to fit around everything would have been hard. It takes the count way down and it'll be easy enough to shovel out when we don't need it anymore. The last few can even be swept up with a magnet."
"It has to weigh a lot," Heather said worried. "Can the rover handle this much extra weight?"
"Katia said it's well within the allowable range and we spread it out a little thinner to the back where we won't be doing much. We made it thicker here in the front and sort of mounded it up right around the seats where we need it the most."
"We can't operate like this forever, how are we going to clear the surface and fill the hole back in?"
"Give it six months and it will have decayed enough I'd walk on it in a suit. But until then I'd concentrate on tunneling and if you have to do any surface work do it well away from the crater, out on the perimeter of our land. A year from now we can get serious about clearing the roads from the far end in. Most of the roads are still down there, just covered in loose regolith and gravel. We'll have to let the backfill settle before doing anything permanent on top of it too."
"I don't even want to calculate how long it would take two rovers to plow it all back in."
Johnson shook his head. "No, that's simply not going to happen. It'll never be practical to back-fill it with manned equipment. We're going to have to build robotic scoops and dump trucks that will work around the clock night and full lunar day. If we have a dedicated lane for robots not used by manned vehicles we can do it safely with fairly simple stupid systems."
"You seem to have given it a lot of thought. I'd like you to talk with Mo and get Jeff in on it too. See what you can all come up with together and get back to me."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Heather seemed deep in thought and there was little chit-chat although it was a half hour until they reached the pad where the jump bug sat. It was an open framework vehicle built as a commuting shuttle to other bases. The ability to match orbits with a real shuttle in lunar orbit was at the extreme edge of its capability.
The tech who was being evacuated as a psych case was helped in and strapped down. He was so heavily sedated he needed to be watched closely while transferring to guard against a trip and fall accident. His suit controls were switched to outside management like a child's.
Dakota and Heather filled two more seats and another owner originally with the refugees from Armstrong was leaving the moon for good, having given up on Central and with no desire to return to Armstrong. She hoped to make a life on Home. She was offering her land for sale for what she had in it, which was less than what Heather was asking now. It was sold already to someone from Australia, not put off at all that they'd been bombarded. As he said: "You are still there talking to me. Seems like it didn't take too well."
It amused Heather the woman felt Home was safer than the moon. Home had after all been the primary target. If there was a next time, Home might be hit and Central spared.
The view was spectacular lifting off in a spacecraft with no body enclosing you. Just the faceplate between you and the surface falling away. They angled over quickly, the surface under them speeding by faster by the second, until they suddenly passed the terminator and entered darkness. The surface under them was now illuminated only by the much fainter Earth-glow.
When the engine cut off they drifted. There were strobes on the vehicle shielded from illuminating the seating area and a couple radar reflectors. It was up to the shuttle from Home to match to them as it had greater delta V capacity.
When they did match there was no line rigged across. The pilot of the bug rolled it a little so the seating area was opposite the shuttle lock and eased it in to within four meters. That was close enough for even the unskilled to jump across, except the sedated one, who they tossed across to a receiver like luggage. It was a slow shuttle and following a flight profile to conserve fuel, so they settled in for a long flight. Heather was determined to sleep, putting in ear plugs and taking a mild trank.
Jeff was waiting for Heather when they docked at Home. They exited but stood aside to give the medics room to remove the sedated worker. Heather had slept, but not well, despite the pill and she felt grumpy. She warned Jeff and turned down his suggestion they go eat until she could clean up and change. Dakota was staying with Heather at her mom's, so she trudged along, even less talkative than Heather. Jeff was smart enough not to offer small talk and certainly nothing serious until they had a chance to sleep again.
They dropped down to the half G level, took the corridor through the semi-industrial area where Heather's mom chose to live. It was the off shift so traffic was light. A few small automated carts were moving about, pulling over for safety and allowing them to pass when they sensed pedestrians.
A fellow approached them in black trousers, white shirt and a serving apron. He wasn't walking briskly at all like he was hurrying to work. Rather he was going slow, head down a little, like he'd put in a full shift and was tired.
Dakota stopped when they passed, whirled around and took three quick steps back to the man, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Going home from work. I'm tired and ready for bed," he said, looking put-out.
"That's no answer. What are you doing on Home?" she insisted.
"The same as a lot of others. There's nowhere else I'm welcome. I can't go home to North America and I'd get extradited from anywhere on Earth I'd care to live. I went to the French habitat but it was very inhospitable."
"Maybe they saw what an insufferable little creep you are," she suggested.
"Not that it's any of your business, but the liaison assigned to me stuck me in a crappy filter duty job. She had a snit that my French was better than hers."
"I'm not going to live with you again. You get on a shuttle out of here or I'll call you out and put a bullet through your head!"
"Are you a Home citizen now?" he asked. He was finally getting angry. "Because I am a citizen. I pay taxes and rent and have a job. Who are you to kick me out?"
Jeff and Heather were both asking what was going on and she was ignoring them.
Dakota took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "You will meet me in the north hub at eight hundred hours and stand to my fire, or I shall post you refused and make you subject to expulsion," she vowed.
"I'm not sure you can," John told her. "Are you a citizen? I'm not sure a non-citizen can challenge a citizen, or set terms. I'll certainly ask the question of the Assembly, because I have no desire to kill you."
"Oh, you are reformed now?" Dakota asked with a sneer.
"I never threatened you," John answered. "I've done some things I regret, but I wasn't one of the bunch gung-ho to get in a rover and chase you. The worst I ever did to you was to order our com guy not to allow your e-mails on our network. While I regret doing even that much, it is hardly a capital offence. If you are going to call people out based on what they did to others, or worse what their previous bosses did, far into the past, you are going to have a long list of people to challenge. We all administered petty restrictive rules. You never do anything to support any of those rules? Not even fill out a form?"
"You sure didn't stop him from trying to drag us back." Dakota accused.
"No, and that's just one of many injustices and wrongs I didn't try to right. Again, are you going to call out everybody in Armstrong that didn't try to intervene on your behalf?"
"They aren't here, you are. I'm not withdrawing my challenge."
John dipped his head to acknowledge that and walked away.
"Who is that?" Heather asked again.
"Jesse Silverson, the administrator at Armstrong who refused to let us talk with our old friends and workmates after we'd escaped to Central." She looked suspiciously at Heather. "You aren't going to deny your subjects the duel when you enjoy the right yourself are you?"
Just looking at her face, Heather could see the level of resentment that would create. "Certainly not, but I will go on record as saying I doubt the wisdom of demanding a fight to the death over refusing to forward com calls."
"Oh it wasn't just that. He was part of the beauracracy that kept us suppressed for so long. He supported a thousand little enslaving rules for years. I can't forgive and forget all that now that it's over. It isn't right he can walk away from that and never have to answer for it."
Heather thought being banished from his nation and reduced to waiting tables was something of a comeuppance, he'd probably lost all his savings and pension too. However she saw it wouldn't do any good to argue with Dakota, who was determined to punish the man much more severely. So she dropped it, but wondered if Dakota was going to be as pleasant a house guest as she hoped, or fume and fester about this. On the other hand, if she got herself shot dead in the morning that would no longer be a worry.
* * *
Jeff sat patiently, taking a few calls and doing what work he could on a small pad screen. He kept April aware of what was happening, because she wanted to see Heather, so she'd be meeting them for supper. Once the ladies had a chance to clean up and put on some clothing cleaner and nicer than a suit liner they'd been in two days, the girls would be ready to have a meal.
The dinner conversation was mostly recounting their time in the tunnels and digging out. It was unmarred by Dakota replaying her encounter with Jesse Silverson. She hadn't tried to find him in the com directory yet. It would agitate her all over again to find he wasn't listed.
They were all done, Heather and Dakota tired and ready to go sleep when Jeff got a call and listened for awhile, just saying OK, OK...
"Chen says I should meet him at my office, he says something is happening in China. I'll see you guys tomorrow.
"I'll come with you," April said right away. They all got up and parted ways. Jeff and April were out the door first, stepping much livelier.
"Chen will be waiting for us. He was on the way when he called me."
"He has access to your office now?" April asked surprised.
"Yes, I depend on him for a number of things. I've come to trust him," Jeff said. He let a bit of time go by as they walked before he added. "Not that I share passwords with him and they aren't in the machine, I have them memorized. So the risk is limited."
That made April feel better. Some things she didn't want to go beyond the three of them.
Chen was sitting at the com console with most of China on the big wall screen. It was a composite of visible light from a satellite, a map overlay and infrared. It was early morning in eastern China. There was a sprinkling of freckles, little gold circles about three millimeters in diameter, all over the map, but heavier near the coast and big cities. A very few places they clustered.
Jeff went right to the other seat and settled in. Chen stood and offered his seat to April, but she waved him back and got a folding chair to sit behind them. She could see between them just fine. She reached up unbidden and massaged Jeff's shoulder. He leaned into it. so it must feel good. Gunny sat further back and just nodded hello at Chen.
"What are all the little rings?" April asked before Jeff could.
"Thermal sources. They are odd because they are almost all small, single dwellings, often residential and they all happened within an hour of each other. China has five time zones, although the far western one doesn't concern us much, but they all started close together. There are enough of them that the fire fighters can't possibly get to all of them. And some of them we can see from our satellite imaging nobody is fighting them. A few we see trucks at the fire but no activity and a few we definitely see bodies in the street."
"This is deliberate action then," Jeff agreed. "What do they have in common? Anything that you can tell with the resolution we have available?"
"Oh yes, even without a lot of detail they are high end residences. Some in gated communities for high officials and some on military bases for general staff."
"Before they left for work this morning," April guessed.
"Yeah, most of them got caught that way for sure," Chen agreed. "There are always a few workaholics who are there before the sun comes up, if not still there from last night."
"Do you think this is the coup our defector suggested was in the works?" Jeff asked.
"Maybe, it hasn't gotten that serious yet. If we see armor or aircraft moving I'd think it might be. This could be a decapitation event, but it will take more than removing a few high level officials and commanders to bring down the government," Chen insisted.
On the coast, near Taiwan, the white flare of a nuclear explosion overwhelmed the screen.
"It just got serious," April said.
"That's Dongguan," Chen said, zooming in, but the cloud and debris lofted quickly obscured some of what was underneath. "Well, near Dongguan," he corrected himself. "North towards Guangzhou, but there really isn't much open country between them."
"What would be a target there?" April asked.
"I don't know. What can possibly be a rational target for a nuclear weapon in a civil war? It seems insane to nuke your own territory. The damage will be so widespread. Maybe the weapons themselves were what they were fighting over," he guessed.
"Look to the west of Dongguan," he pointed out. "There is a cluster of fires there. It looks like maybe they set a single fire or a few and they got out of control and merged. That's a huge fire they got there. It must be really windy to spread like that."
"Anything else you want to see here before I zoom back out?" Chen asked. They shook their heads no. There were a lot more little circles than when they had zoomed in.
"That's a different infrared signature at Shuimen there, near Taiwan," Chen observed. He played with the setting trying to refine it. "Ah, see how the cluster is moving and heading east now? It appears they are a large force of aircraft, at least a hundred, headed for the straights."
"It looks like they are going to attack Taiwan," Jeff said, uncertainly.
"Yes, no other possibility," Chen agreed.
"But why?" Jeff asked.
Chen shrugged, looking upset. "Maybe there is a breakdown in communications. Maybe they blame Taiwan for the nuclear strike. Maybe the commander of the airbase always thought they should re-take Taiwan and now that he isn't getting direction and control from above he's doing what he wants. The decapitation effort, if that's what it is, may have succeeded. And sometimes when you create chaos you don't get the result you want. Crud, there go the long range SAMS to meet them and the Taiwanese are putting their own jets up."
They watched the swarms of tiny dots, some approaching each other, some headed for targets on either side of the straights. Two other Chinese bases started launching aircraft. One of the bases in Fujian province suddenly displayed a huge infrared signature, not the white glare of a nuke, but big.
"I've never seen one, but I suspect that was an air-fuel explosion," Chen said.
"They bombed the base?" April asked.
"Not with an aircraft. It wouldn't have had time to reach there from when this all started happening. More likely a ballistic missile."
"Doesn't Taiwan have nukes?" April asked.
"That's a really interesting question," Chen said. "When I was spying for China some thought they had them, some thought they didn't and some thought they didn't but planted all sorts of false clues and fake radiological traces to make us think they did. If this keeps escalating I think we'll find out soon. An air-fuel explosive will level several square kilometers with just as much energy yield as a small nuke. That base is pretty much gone. And there goes another one," he said, as a thermal flare showed on the screen. "And two more. OK, three bases gone. There is no way this is going to deescalate until somebody has the upper hand."
"How about leaving the big wall screen zoomed out and look at details with the main com console screen?" Jeff suggested. "I wonder what we're missing when we lose the big view."
"Sure," Chen switched images around and went off to use the lavatory.
Two more Chinese bases were crushed under missile fire. Some of the jets might not have anywhere to return even if they weren't shot down and that was happening to both sides now, as the jets met over the coast and the straights. Then a Taiwanese target vanished under the flare of a small nuke. Nothing like the size of the one over China, but the white glare couldn't be anything else. Jeff didn't know what had been there, but he marked it on the screen to ask Chen.
"Anything happen while I was away?" Chen asked.
"They nuked there on the Taiwan coast, where I circled it with red. Not as big as the last one. I'm sort of assuming it was the Chinese. Oh and two more Chinese air bases got hit with air fuel bombs."
"There's a lot more planes taking off to the west," April pointed out.
"Yes, but those are too far away to be involved with Taiwan," Chen assured her."They don't have the range to reach the coast much less loiter and do anything. They have to have local targets, probably ground targets because I don't see anything going aloft to meet them. Of course if..." Chen stopped and drew a sharp breath in. On the screen there was a scintillating mass of nuclear detonations all close together, one after another, further down the coast from Taiwan. Then a similar display of detonations to the north. April thought she counted eight in the last barrage, but she wasn't sure.
"Are you OK Chen?" She was concerned for him. His color looked bad and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
"No, I'm not well at all. It may take me a bit to, adjust. I can't look at the screen right now. Do you have something stronger than this coffee?" he asked Jeff.
"Of course," Jeff got in his desk drawers and found a bottle of bourbon, half-full and gave it to Chen with a fresh mug.
Chen turned his back on the wall screen, pulling his chair to the side and poured a drink. His hands were shaking and he sat with the mug in both hands, but instead of drinking he just held it and wept quietly. There was quite a bit of activity on the screen, but neither of them felt free to comment on it, certainly not to ask Chen anything about it. He was obviously too upset to bother further. He finally did sip a little of the whiskey.
"That first big bombardment was Guangzhou, you might know it as Canton. People still speak of Cantonese food for example. I lived there for awhile as a boy. I have memories of parks and shops and places we'd go eat. All gone now."
"Do you think that was an answer to the nuke on Taiwan?" April asked.
"Oh, yes. They used conventional weapons until some idiot probably decided the detonation on the mainland had to be Taiwan's fault. It probably wasn't. The timing is too suspect. Taiwan's main naval base gets hit and within a few minutes both Guangzhou and Shanghai are thoroughly destroyed. It wasn't as spectacular as one of Jeff's weapons, but it probably did just as much actual destruction, it just didn't dig a big crater too."
"But it happened so fast. Could even a ballistic missile get there that quickly?" April asked.
"Probably not. Maybe a sub sitting right off the coast could lob them in on that short of a notice, but I doubt they'd keep two on station like that. No, both targets were on the water, they probably placed the bombs years ago by sub or remote vehicle, sneaking them up the rivers. Then they just set them off by remote command. There are fifty million people who live on the Pearl River delta. Shanghai...well, I don't remember, a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if half of them are gone. For nothing. I don't believe for a minute that Taiwan set off the first one. Somebody over-reacted."
A few more flares marked the map on the screen, a few out in the ocean. Neither of them said anything to Chen, but he read it on their faces and grimaced. A nuclear flare lit up the open ocean half way to Japan. That worried April deeply.
Jeff's phone vibrated and he looked surprised. When he took the call he quickly looked angry. He got up and started to pace. April only could catch a word here and there, then he cut the other person off with harsh words and hung up, fingers working the phone, probably to reject any more calls from this person, she guessed.
When he looked up at April he realized he was scowling and took a deep breath and tried to relax his face. It helped.
"That was Joan Morgan, we met in the cafeteria recently. She has taken a position with the BBC, not staff, but sending them stories as a stringer. She informed me they are about to run a breaking news story that Home or I have resumed bombarding China and wanted to give me opportunity to explain why. When I denied being involved with any bombardment she asked me to prove that, given I had done so before. I pointed out proving a negative is impossible, that her very question contained all sorts of assumptions, that when I previously bombarded China I neither denied it nor apologized for it and if I found it necessary to do so in the future I'd do so the very same way, with regrets but no apologies. I also pointed out our weapons were of a different physical nature and all the Earth governments would know the source of the detonations in days, at which time it would be obvious they were not ours, but nobody at BBC would care they were wrong as long as they were first with the story, since there would be no consequences to being wrong."
"The woman is an idiot," April decided.
"The profession is idiotic," Gunny injected.
"She asked me if I didn't want to seize the opportunity to influence the public's opinion of me? I told her no, that most of what she calls the public doesn't have the capacity to form an opinion and she wasn't demonstrating any better thinking ability herself. I believe she may have taken offense at that."
"The woman is an Earthie, in every way that offends me."
"If it offends her she can always call you out," April said.
"Can she? She's new. I don't know if she has assumed citizenship. That's the question the fellow who Dakota accosted in the corridor raised. I think when he doesn't show tomorrow she'll ask to bring it before the Assembly."
"I don't know if Muños will even call an Assembly for a non-citizen. I'm hoping he ignores it and after a night's sleep she has some sense and drops it."
Chen got himself under control again sufficiently to look at the map again. "This is going from bad to worse. The computer says we have over eight hundred separate large thermal events. Some of those are multiples that have merged and we have a lot of aircraft up running sorties on who knows what as targets. We have low level thermal images that suggest armor is being moved and civilian airliners have grounded themselves, some on short fields they probably can't take off from again, but they sat down to get out of danger in the air. I see a lot of road traffic leaving the cities. A few places the roads are gridlocked and the vehicles abandoned. Other places they have pulled off the road. Probably stopped by local authorities. This isn't going to sort out in a day. It's going to be a weeks before most of it can be unraveled even if everybody stood down right now."
"I'm not going to stay up late and get so fatigued I can't make good decisions," Jeff said. "I made that mistake before, but fortunately April and Heather had the good sense to stop me. I want you to record everything we are sensing. Lease or buy memory or on station storage if this goes on days. You shouldn't run yourself ragged either. I can get my man Louis to come sit the board. I'll text him right now. He has experience at this sort of a crisis watch. He won't wake me up unless I really need to see something, or act. Has Eddie said anything?" he asked Chen.
"No, I sent a couple summaries and offered him a feed, but he said not to bother him unless there was a threat to us. He just said the same as you, to record everything."
"There's an all station message from Muños coming in," April alerted them. "She was looking at her pad, but Chen put it on a smaller window in the com console display.
Call for an Assembly of the people:
An issue has arisen about who may call a duel. Citizen John Wycliffe has been called out by a non-citizen and asks the Assembly to clarify what is permitted. The assembly is scheduled for 0600 hours, so that it may be decided before the set time to meet on the field of honor. I apologize for the short notice and early hour.
Eduardo Muños, Registrar of Voters
"Well, looks like we'll have our question answered." Jeff said.
"He would have been smarter to wait and see if she felt different in the morning," April said.
"Perhaps, but that would leave no time to call an Assembly. He must have felt his chances are better with the assembly than with Dakota," Jeff decided.
"You are familiar with this?" Chen asked.
"We saw the challenge. She holds a grudge over how he acted as an administrator when she was living at Armstrong. She very strongly resisted Heather's counsel that the matter was not of a nature warranting a blood feud," Jeff told him.
"It is no light matter to resist your sovereign," Chen said, gravely. "I wonder if she is counting the cost of lost trust and her public image?"
"I doubt it. And she should be counting the odds of surviving too. The man has half again her weight and didn't appear impaired in any way. I'm sure she has never fought a duel. She probably hasn't been in a physical altercation since elementary school."
"If she challenged he has the choice of weapons, correct?" Chen wondered.
"Now that's a good point," Jeff allowed. "April, do you know if Dakota has any experience with firearms? Does she know pistol?"
"I don't see where she would have done so, unless on Earth before she lived at Armstrong. In which case she'd at least be very rusty. But she spoke as if she assumed it would be pistols."
"What is your opinion? I mean, how do you feel one should vote? Is it proper to throw the duel open to outsiders? Or is it reserved to citizens?" Chen asked.
Neither April nor Jeff answered right away, but Gunny was quick with an opinion.
"The duel is to address wrongs one can't legislate. It involves things that the state is unsuited to control. Not matters of contract or borders, but questions of right or wrong and morals. Things that law can't possibly cover fully. A fellow can make your life miserable with gossip and slander and never touch you or your property. That's why libel and slander laws have never worked. They turn into popularity contests. The same with stalking and restraining orders. They are meaningless. The sort they are aimed at don't respect them. So I view the duel as an individual right, like the right of self defense or the right to hold property. So call it a human right, above such issues as citizenship. I've talked with April and others about it before. I think that wrongs will be committed by duelists, but that having no way to demand others treat you with more respect than following the bare bones of the law will do the greater evil."
"Obviously you've given it a great deal of thought," Chen said. Respectfully it seemed.
"Gunny makes some good points. I'm still conflicted. I'll be happy to hear some other arguments in the morning. I hope some others have well thought out opinions and I hope you speak up if they don't," she told Gunny.
"I don't want to be first to speak, but I may if others don't," he agreed.
"All the more reason to knock off and get some sleep. Can you stay a little longer until Louis gets here, Chen?" Jeff asked.
"Sure. Goodnight and I'll come by here after the Assembly in the morning."
Chapter 25
The com console in Heather's room displayed a bright blue light. The alarm increased in intensity until it woke her up. Dakota was sleeping in Barak's old room. The com was turned off in there as an unoccupied room. All his communications were forwarded to his ship. Heather read the notice and considered whether to go awaken Dakota. She decided that given the circumstances she needed her sleep. If she woke her now she'd be all agitated and probably get no more sleep, or sleep poorly.
She re-set her alarm for 0500 hours and she'd start a light breakfast and awaken Dakota by 0515 or so. They had decided on 0600 to get up before and obviously that wasn't going to work anymore. Now if she could just relax and return to sleep herself.
* * *
"John Wycliffe? That's not his name. That speaks to his guilt right there, that he's using an alias," Dakota sneered.
"Eat your breakfast," Heather insisted. "If you do fight him shortly you need your blood sugar up and a steady hand. Anyway, I seriously doubt he's trying to hide from you. More likely he wants a low profile for the North Americans. If he was worried about folks here he wouldn't have picked a famous name."
"Famous? Who's Wycliffe? Never heard of him."
"A very prominent English theologian."
"A preacher? Not my field of interest. I suppose he's dead? It would be awkward to pick the name of somebody still living, wouldn't it?"
"Quite dead. He lived back in the 1300s I believe. A lot of people change their name when they come to Home. As far as registering for com or citizenship, you are who you say you are."
"Thanks for the oatmeal," Dakota said, following Heather's advice to eat it.
"Do you want to go to the cafeteria? We best hurry if you do. I'm sure Muños will conduct the Assembly from there, but it will probably be a light crowd. Most folks will speak and vote by com on such short notice and early on a main shift work day."
"Do you think we should?"
Heather suddenly pictured herself sitting beside Dakota. People would assume things she didn't want them to, such as that she supported Dakota's duel.
"I think you should go. I'd rather watch it from here. I've been to a few of these. I'd rather have a slow shower and a second cup of coffee than tearing through the corridors. But you may make a more effective presentation by demonstrating you take it seriously by being there."
Dakota checked the time. "You mind if I quickly shower first then?"
"No, you should have time if you hurry."
"I can't go with my hair like this and grungy." She skipped the spoon and drank the rest of her oatmeal straight from the rim of the bowl. "Thanks," she called over her shoulder, hurrying.
"You are welcome," she said sincerely. If she'd gone and insisted on sitting separately it would have been bad, maybe even provoked a scene. She dropped a text on April and Jeff, explaining why she was staying home and warning them that Dakota might glom onto them at the Assembly, oblivious to what their visible association might imply.
* * *
"What if they allow her to challenge you?" Fred asked, over their breakfast.
"I don't have any place left to run. I'll have to fight her," John said. "At least I don't have to miss any work to resolve this."
"Crap. Have you ever shot a pistol, at all?"
"Once my uncle took me out on his farm and I shot a little .22, but why do you assume we will go at it with pistols? She challenged me. I get the choice of weapons."
"You do?" Fred asked skeptically.
"I'm pretty sure. Sure enough I bought some yesterday."
"Well, that makes me feel a little better."
"Please, don't advertise for another roomie just yet." John said, checking his shirt for crumbs and getting ready to watch the Assembly.
"Are you going to speak?"
"I'm not sure. What can I say that doesn't make me look like a coward? Maybe if I just let her speak she'll end up looking bad. She does have a bit of a temper."
* * *
There was a young girl sitting with an actual paper drawing tablet on the side near the exit and a knot of older men by the coffee pots, one with a full sized computer open. They all clustered on the far side facing the wall where Muños had a couple pads open and had linked to the big screen on the wall behind him. Usually they elevated a table to allow everyone to see better, but it wasn't a concern today.
There were about two dozen people singly and in small groups here and there, but lots of empty seats between them. Not at all the usual crowd for an Assembly. Dakota came in and looked around. There wasn't any formal seating arrangement. Muños looked up and nodded at her pleasantly. She found a seat two tables away facing him and sat.
Muños stood and addressed the camera lens.
"The Assembly of Home is met in its twelfth session. The Assembly previously agreed to allow for the duel to be conducted between citizens. Refusal to reach an agreement and to ignore a challenge was deemed grounds for expulsion."
"John Wycliffe has asked the Assembly to decide if the duel is something extended to those not citizens of Home. He is a citizen and is challenged by a citizen of Central on the moon. In this case no accommodation is possible. The challenge is not about any action that can be retracted and an admission of previous error is not accepted. I asked carefully however if an actual apology was offered with the admission of error and it was not. Before I go any further, I believe you are Dakota Benton?" Muños asked.
"I am, your honor."
"Please, I thank you for trying to be polite, but I am in no way a judge. Neither am I a second to Mr. Wycliffe, but I want to ask if a sincere apology added to his admission of error would be sufficient to resolve this matter?"
"It would not. Did he ask you to offer that?"
"No, I noted the lack myself. And it seemed significant to me. I'd have gone back to negotiate the point with him. To try to broker a deal if you will, but the point is moot. That being the case I'll ask the people if they want to consider this question."
"Will you decide if a non citizen can call out a Home citizen? If you do not wish to settle the matter we can skip any discussion and all go home, or more likely off to work given the hour. How do you people say?"
The vote was sparse, but it came in 817 yea and 71 nay.
"Very well. Does anyone have comments germane to the issues?"
"Mr. Holloway," He recognized. "On com."
"I have never availed myself of the duel. But knowing it is there has made a huge difference in how I regard Home and my life here. On Earth the politicians and ultra-wealthy don't call themselves King or Duke or such, but they have elevated themselves over the common man as much as if they had the titles. On Home we are equal and the ultimate expression of that is the duel, because nobody is exempted. If I feel someone is attempting to repress us and gain domination over us I have the ability to call him out on it and say defend your actions with your blood! I don't want to lose that. I worry any restriction is starting down the road to losing it. Next we'll have people saying it is only for gentlemen and I don't mean males, I mean the privileged class. If a challenger comes from someplace that would not allow the duel, well, what does that have to do with us? We don't support other government's restrictions on their citizen's rights. We don't collect their taxes for them or acknowledge their laws. Why do that here?" He was done and disconnected.
"Ms. Barrington on com," Muños selected.
"I feel safer knowing the duel exists," Elaine Barrington told them. "The law addresses many crimes, but some are very hard to bring to justice. Some are more or less he said – she said conflicts. I don't have the skills to duel, but if someone committed a crime against me I have a husband and grown son who are both expert pistoleros. That is well known and I feel safer knowing most folks are aware accosting me would be close to suicide," she said.
"Mr. Michelson," Muños invited. He was with the coffee group and rose to speak.
"I agree with Mr. Holloway that we should regard it as a right. It is the final court of appeal to which a person can go when everything else has failed. Are we going to have some bad duels? Yes. But we have bad court decisions too. In fact in the legal system we left behind we had a lot of them. The duel doesn't exist in a vacuum, you have to compare it to the system without it in place and judge if it is better or worse." He sat down.
"Mr. Johnson, on com." Muños picked.
"I can see some merit to having the duel, but at what cost? The Earthie press uses it to paint us as savage and going back to archaic practices all civilized nations have abandoned. I have a bit of a sharp tongue my wife can tell you and I find myself stifled when it comes to expressing myself. I worry I'll end up looking down some hothead's barrel if I speak too strongly and offend. Is it worth it to put that much power in one person's hands?" He ended the call.
"Mr. Davis, on com." Muños invited.
"It seems Mr. Johnson expressed himself quite well without the board lighting up with calls to challenge him and blow his head off. If the duel stifles expression that lacks civility I see that as a plus, not a problem. Having worked security for some years I pulled many a bloodied pair apart who had a few drinks to loosen inhibitions and then came to blows over a nasty word or two. I don't have exact numbers, but off hand I'd say I'm down over half of such incidents since we adopted the duel. I'm lazy, so that seems like a good thing to me." He smiled and disconnected.
"Ms. Lewis on com," Muños said, picking April.
"I can't accept something because it is an Earth standard of behavior. We separated ourselves from the slum ball because what they are doing is a mess. It isn't working and it's going to get worse before it gets better," she predicted.
"Ms. Barkley," Muños asked to speak. She was alone and stood.
"I see both sides of the argument," Martha allowed. "We haven't had a fatal duel yet to arouse passions. It's not like the corridors are so full of shooting parties we can't get to work in the morning and yet I worry we will eventually have one of those people who hates everything and everyone come on station. You know the sort I mean, we all saw such monsters back on Earth. We don't have the selection standards we used to use for psych profiles and criminal background checks to keep such people out. I'm sure if somebody issues one challenge after another he'll eventually get shot dead himself, but the price may be high to do that. I wish we could count on evil people being bad shots, but history tells me it isn't that convenient. If anyone sees a solution I'd like to hear it, because I don't have one myself," she said and sat.
"Mr. Alexander, on com," Muños invited to speak.
"I agree with the arguments to keep it. So far it has been a positive and I say it is worth it even acknowledging it is a personal risk. I'll take my chances on getting challenged and not being a crack shot I'd take a different choice of weapons, likely baseball bats, as I was quite the solid hitter back on Earth." He smiled, light hearted about it, but they all took it for truth.
Dakota looked at Alexander's image on the screen with a very odd expression on her face. She looked around as if she expected someone to contradict him, but they didn't.
"Your point is well taken, Mr. Alexander, but basically you are agreeing with previous comments. If we are to the point of agreeing or dissenting on the points covered let's do that with our vote. If nobody has any major points to raise on the issue let's proceed to a vote," Muños suggested. He waited for perhaps a dozen seconds with no input.
"On the matter of dueling being a fundamental right and extended to all people without regard to citizenship. How do you people say?"
He visibly sat back, letting the vote come in. The screen behind him tallied it.
The vote took about five minutes to taper off until there was a dead pause long enough to cut it off. The yeas were 977 versus 323 nays. More people had joined the discussion since the first vote, or withheld their vote until the one that actually decided something. The late comers were more nays. April wondered if that had any significance.
"Ms. Benton, the Assembly of Home has decided that you have the fundamental right to engage Mr. Wycliffe in a duel. I note that you have over an hour to meet him and I assume he has sufficient interest to have followed this on com, although he chose not to speak."
"Mr. Wycliffe is actually Jesse Silverson, one of the previous USNA administrators for Armstrong. Adapting an alias shows guilt to me. I just happened to run into him in the corridors and knew him by sight."
Muños acknowledged that by a nod, neither agreeing nor disputing it. "If he should fail to show and meet your challenge we shall expel him from Home, as is our custom. If you would care to call us on com, Mr. Wycliffe and inform us if you intend to meet her, it will probably result in more witnesses and it would be a kindness to the rest of us who are curious."
John called in and Muños routed his face to the screen.
"I am at my end of places where I am welcome," he told them. "I don't have any particular desire to kill Ms. Benton, but necessity is forced upon me. I'll meet her at 0800 as she demanded and give her satisfaction one way or another. I'll have exactly equal weapons for us, you or any others can inspect and give her the choice of them, I have nobody standing second to me."
"What did you choose?" Muños asked.
"I had a fabricating shop cut twin lengths of heavy wall steel tubing, a meter long by three centimeters diameter and had a third of their length knurled to give a good grip."
Dakota didn't look happy over that, but she kept her mouth shut.
"Thank you for calling in," Muños said and John nodded and disconnected, leaving Muños and Benton on the split screen again.
"The twelfth Assembly of Home has concluded urgent business and I urge all of you to let other matters wait on a more convenient time to address them. Are there any objections?" He waited again, very briefly. The fellow who always wanted to suggest Home should build a park tried to speak. Mr. Muños refused to acknowledge him today, not even to let the Assembly cut him off in fifteen or twenty seconds as they did commonly now.
"That concludes our Assembly then, thank you for your participation."
Dakota stood up ready to leave, but Muños held up a restraining finger. He hadn't cut the screen off or the feed either.
"Ms. Benton, a word with you. I won't delay you long enough to matter. In the matter of your duel I have discharged my obligation as a moderator for the assembly. On a personal level however, I find it offensive that you are using the duel in this manner. It seems to me a bad precedent to issue a challenge that the target can't resolve by apology or a change in his actions. As far as I can see the only resolution you'd accept is for Mr. Wycliffe to commit suicide or flee the habitat to certain death and ruin. Therefore be advised if you survive your encounter with him you are welcome to enjoy the day of life you gained, but you will be required to meet me at the same time and location tomorrow and test me with whatever weapons you may choose."
Dakota stood mouth hanging open, unable to frame a reply. Muños just waited on her.
"I have no desire to harm you!" she finally managed. After thinking a little she added. "You are very well liked and respected. If I kill you I'll be a stink to most of Home's inhabitants."
"Well, you are a resident of Central, that certainly is not as great an issue as if you intended to live here. I didn't observe you inquiring how the local opinion of Mr. Wycliffe runs. It may be he has friends and business associates who will resent his death too. I don't know him, so my concern is entirely a matter of principle, not friendship or personalities. I hate to see the duel used over political matters and things long past that have created implacable hatred. We are inviting feuds. We could have Jews and Arabs, Turks and Armenians and every other such pairings taking out generational hatreds in our corridors. No, I'm firmly opposed to this."
"But, I don't want to. What can I do to appease you in this matter?" She was so dismayed the obvious solution escaped her.
"You can sue Mr. Wycliffe for an agreement to not meet, as he has already publically agreed to do so, or you can flee Home after killing him and know if you try to return you will certainly be expelled for failing to meet me."
"I have no idea what he'd demand of me or if anything would satisfy him now," Dakota admitted.
"That's between you two. It no longer concerns me," Muños said quite calmly. When she stood rooted to the floor and in shock he did remind her, "but of course you have quite a limited time to pursue that or take the field, one or the other."
Dakota nodded her acceptance of that and exited the cafeteria, briskly.
* * *
"Are you going to let her off the hook?" Fred asked John.
"Do I look stupid? Of course I'll agree to not meet. If she just asks."
"If I may suggest, make sure it is a permanent agreement and not something she is doing today and will regret and stew on it and challenge you in the future."
"She is a bit emotional isn't she? I'll take that advice and make the terms clear," John agreed.
* * *
- ALL addresses / system transmission –
Regarding the agreed duel between Dakota Benton and John Wycliffe, both parties wish to make a public announcement that Ms. Benton has agreed to withdraw her objections to Mr. Wycliffe on a permanent basis and he makes no counter claims. The matter is closed.
* * *
"Good, some sense prevailed," April said at the announcement.
" I knew Muños was smart, but that was brilliant," Gunny said.
"Yes, now if we could only get a couple billion Chinese to show as much sense," Jeff said, waving a hand at the screen in disgust. It was chaos and destruction on a scale almost as bad as he feared he'd have to inflict himself at one time. The flood of the Yangtze river course was a minor slap at the Chinese nation compared to what they were doing to themselves. At least he didn't have to feel guilty about it and when they were through he doubted they would have the capacity to bother Home again for some years.
The door buzzer sounded and Jeff checked the hall camera, throwing the image in a separate window on the screen. It was the young man Gabriel who Jeff had seen hanging around the cafeteria. Ruby seemed to use him for various errands, which was a recommendation. he called the door open and invited him in. He stepped in and amused Jeff by casing the place. Not that he stood and stared, his eyes swept the room and them corner to corner in two seconds. Jeff was certain he took a good inventory of who was there and certainly the huge overlay map of China on the wall.
"Mr. Singh, Joan Morgan sent me with this note for you," he said offering a sealed envelope.
"Did she want any sort of receipt or a reply?"
"No sir, she didn't ask for any, but I'd be happy to wait for you to look at it and take a reply if you care to send one."
"Did she pay you?"
"Certainly, I don't do courier work on credit," Gabriel said, surprised.
"Smart man. Let me look at this quickly and I'll send you on your way." Jeff walked to his seat ripping the envelope open and unfolded a single sheet of paper.
"No reply needed. Thank you for your service though. Here's something for delaying you," he offered, extending a USNA fifty dollar bill.
"No sir, thank you. You didn't keep me from anything at all. If you have work for me some other time I'd be happy for that," he said, letting himself out.
"It's up to you to consider," Jeff told Chen, but I think that young man has possibilities if you'd look into recruiting him."
"Do you have any information on him?"
"I suggest you go ask Ruby. I know she uses him."
"The cook in the cafeteria?" Chen asked, dubious.
"Believe me, Ruby has an informal intelligence gathering network all her own. If you ask her a few questions you'll be surprised at its depth."
"But she doesn't give it away," April spoke up. "Be prepared to trade for it."
"And don't cross her, or her husband will kill you and we'll never find the body or know what happened to you," Jeff warned him. "You will just, vanish..."
"That wasn't dark humor was it?"
"Not even a little bit."
"Is the letter of any concern to us?" Chen asked.
"Ms. Morgan regrets the network informs her my mailbox is blocked to her and wished to inform me she told her editor I had not bombarded China, exactly as I said. They had what she described as 'Quite a row' about it. The editor asking why she'd believe me. She informed him I had little motive to lie, because if he talked to me, he would find that I don't give a damn what China, the BBC, Joan Morgan or most anything Earth based and tainted thinks of me."
"Why should you?" Gunny asked."
"You..." Jeff accused, "are totally acclimated to Home."
"I suspect she is hoping to praise you or irritate you into talking to her again," April said.
"I think so too and I have much better uses for my time. She has nothing I want and she has already irritated me. It will take much more than a lame note to get back in my good graces."
"Want me to roll a fake grenade at you in the cafeteria and see if she'll throw herself on it?" Gunny offered.
That finally took the scowl off Jeff's face. "Only if you get video from three angles."
"Have you let Jason Dia know what is happening in China?" April asked.
"I sort of assumed he had his own channels to be informed," Jeff said.
"I don't think so, that was the whole reason for him acting as a courier, they were afraid any communications might be intercepted. I doubt they thought that far ahead to provide him a way to report after the fighting started. He did do you a favor warning that this was coming. It would be a nice gesture to let him see what is happening instead of depending on sources like Ms. Morgan. He might have some insight on what's happening too," she said gesturing at the screen. There were long plumes of smoke and other signs of fighting layered one on top of another on the map. The detail was too much to see without zooming to an area.
"Fine, call Jon if you will and see if Jason would like to come talk to us," Jeff allowed. "We'll show him what his people have started."
Chapter 26
"My mom is getting so many commission offers she raised her prices," Barak said, reading bits of his mail from home to Deloris. The speed of light lag was so big now nobody tried to have a conversation, but Barak dropped a note of some kind almost every day to his mom, April and Jeff. He'd been pleased to get a few from the students at Faye's school, Jon Davis and even Mr. Muños, which he considered a particular honor.
Barak had decided Muños was at least as smart about people, as Jeff was about micro-assembly and systems. He might not get as smart about people as Muños, nor the engineering wizard Jeff was, but he'd like to have a little of each and several other disciplines. It wasn't very attractive to him to be too narrow a specialist.
"You said your mom is an artist," Deloris remembered. "Do you have some pictures of her work?"
"It's really the sort of thing that photographs poorly. It's like a cut gem or a piece of ice. If the photo comes anywhere close to showing what you remember the object really looks like it's a marvel. She makes sure her customers understand what they buy has to be displayed correctly or its impact is lost. Most of them have to be backlit and she'd worked with architects before to make sure they are supported properly and lit at a certain angle and brightness."
"Still, I'd like to see something and some pix of your mom too. I've only seen vacation pix of your friends."
"Here, I'll show your her sales site. She has a nice formal head and shoulders shot of herself and some pix of her past work, but I still think they don't do it justice." He sent it to her pad.
"Wow, one of Heather's people from Central challenged a Home guy to a duel. Mr. Muños, I've mentioned to you, nipped that in the bud. He said she'd have to meet him the next morning if she won. She decided to call it off."
"Isn't he older?" she asked.
"Yes, but he's smart. I'd rather fight young and stupid, than old and smart."
Deloris was propped up on one elbow, stretched out and relaxed as a big old cat. They both could just barely fit on the bunk with a reader between them if both lay on their sides. Barak's analysis of who was dangerous got a thoughtful raised eyebrow.
"So, you like smart young girls and wise old men," she said, amused.
"Have you ever really known a stupid person?" Barak asked. "You said you'd never been down to Earth. When we were down there on vacation we spent parts of two days on Tonga. We had breakfast at a place where the young woman who served us couldn't get our order right, even writing it down on a pad. And she was trying to multi-task filling salt and pepper shakers while running to the kitchen window for orders as they came up. She just got all befuddled and couldn't remember which table a plate was for without looking at the ticket again and then she sat Gunny's stuff in front of me. She couldn't run plates and take orders and go back and fill shakers without losing all sense of time and forgetting to make a circuit and fill everybody's coffee up. It was kind of sad to see. Her job was just slightly beyond her abilities."
"How many tables or people to serve?"
"Oh, five or six tables, about twenty people."
"That doesn't seem like much to keep track of and if you need to mark the table on the order ticket, why not the seat too? I'd hate to see her at a piloting board."
"See? You not only could do it, but if you had trouble you would immediately start devising a way to deal with it. I'm guessing the average IQ on Home is probably around 135 or 145, even the sweepers and cooks and maintenance people. You are spoiled by people around you who can do their jobs well and when a problem comes up they have the smarts to deal with that too. Down below they commonly don't and you see it all the time. You would not believe some of the warning labels on things. I mean, my hotel room had an electric hair dryer hard wired into the wall. It had a big placard telling you not to take it in the shower or cover it with towels while it was running."
Deloris looked askance at him, like he might be pulling her leg. "IQ is a very rough measure," she assured him.
"Yes it is. And I would argue it can be off twenty points either way because of cultural bias or test anxiety, but the fact is they have to make things work down there with a lot of people like that. We don't, at least right now."
"Why now?" she demanded, a little worried. "Why would that change?"
"How much of intelligence is hereditary?" he asked. "My understanding is sometimes very bright couples have just average children and sometimes parents that appear quite average have absolute geniuses. So I expect we will have people born off Earth who would not normally pass the various selection processes to come up."
"We'll have to find things for them to do," she said, thoughtfully.
"Yes...this next is interesting," Barak said scrolling down. "After Jeff tells me all the horror stories about dealing with China and people falsely accusing him of bombarding them, he speaks of ideas for expanding out in the solar system. Just like we are doing," he said pointedly.
"He says since I am getting experience with long voyages he'd like my take on what is difficult and what would ease the problems from the view of a crewman and...he asks I keep a record of who I serve with who seem suitable for longer voyages."
"Let me see that, so I know you are not yanking my chain," Deloris demanded. Barak kept a tight grip on his pad when she tried to turn it around.
"Distrustful, paranoid, aggressive people don't make the list," Barak chided her.
"I'd rather crew with a paranoid than a sucker," Deloris countered.
"I'm so hurt. Here read it," he said, turning the pad around. "You should trust me by now."
"I trust you, as much as I trust anybody. I turn my back on you or leave the cabin and still finish my food that I left with you. I sleep locked in the same room with you. What do you want?" she said exasperated.
"You must have had a horrible childhood," Barak observed, then was astonished when she burst into tears and turned to face the bulkhead. It took her a long time to stop crying and she didn't seem to want to turn back to him.
"I'm going to tell you a story," Barak said, "I told you I'd relate this. It's about your puppy remark. Then I want you to forget I said anything that hurtful to you. I don't want to make you relive anything that upsetting." He told the whole story of setting April up with the threat of a puppy and then gifting her with breakfast and his teasing woof!, as well as Gunny's hilariously accurate remark the next morning. He got a quiet laugh at least.
"Can you stand to look at me now?" He asked after.
"Not yet, but if you'd turn the lights out?"
"Lights off," he commanded, which she could have done as easily, but it was his cabin. After it was dark she turned back to him and after a ragged deep sigh, settled her head on his shoulder.
He never asked her about her childhood again.
* * *
"This is the prototype. It's 88% native materials, runs on sunlight and is as close to being a general purpose mining robot as we could build, so when we have the crater filled back in we'll have them for other things." Mo stopped and waited to see what Heather's reaction would be. It was a small robot, built low to the ground, only about waist high, narrow and delicate looking.
"Are those joints going to stand up to moon dust? The damn stuff is insidious."
"So the old hands here told me. Yes, the joints are nano-textured on the bearing surfaces and a slight charge kept on them. The really destructive small particles are repelled from the joint and collect on a couple oppositely charged pads. Every so many minutes a solenoid gives the pad a tap from inside. It's designed to flex such that the collected dust flies off away from the joint."
"How many taps before it cracks?" Heather asked skeptically.
"According to the engineering literature several hundred thousand. But if you laser anneal it occasionally they have no idea how long it will last."
"It seems well thought out," Heather admitted. "Can you zoom the camera in and let me see that tread design?"
Mo did so, just happy Heather didn't ask him to wait until she got back to the moon to finalize any design details.
"That's interesting. It doesn't look like any of the sole patterns for space suit boots."
"It has much less loading and greater area. The thing it is really optimized to do, is not raise dust. Not only for the other robots, although their solar collectors and sensors don't need dusted, but so people in suits don't have to avoid coming close."
"I wish I could run it all past Jeff, but he is distracted with other things."
"We know. We're following the Earth news about China, which doesn't tell us much about why it is happening or who is doing it, but we can at least be aware something is going on. We all figured the first reports blaming him were stupid lies. The hardware was all wrong and not his style at all. Now most of them are making excuses and trying to wipe egg off their faces."
"Yeah, it's basically a civil war. We don't know the names of the actors either. As Jeff said, he doesn't care who ends up running China, as long as they understand to leave us alone."
"If that mess settles down and he has time to look at the design later, it's not like we can't change things. There can be second and third generation machines, because we will be making a lot of them and they are so simple we can likely upgrade older ones as we need to service them. Things will wear out, like the tracks and loading scoops. We aren't going to put a human hand to any of these, what we'll be doing is building an assembly factory to make the smaller automated factories to actually build the bots. Each automated factory will be about the size of two rovers. And a lot of the first 'bots are going to be bringing material to make more 'bots instead of dumping it all in the crater. At first we'll be extracting about a quarter of the mass to make more 'bots and then dumping the waste in the crater."
"Go ahead and start making a prototype assembly device. I'm anxious to get started. I'd like to see the crater filled and Jeff's beanstalk up, in my lifetime."
"I'll have the prime factory built and tuned in six months max, I'm pretty sure. It'll make a smaller 'bot factory every three days and each of those should be able to make six 'bots a day. You'll be surprised how fast it goes then."
"Could you make a prime factory that reproduces itself?" Heather wondered.
"I'm sorry, that's much harder to do than the tech we have now allows. We might make a general purpose factory, of modular parts, to make just about anything, robots, rovers, ground cars, small jump bugs for local traffic, machine tools and shelter components, but I'd say that would be something that would take five to ten years and only be suitable for a raw lunar environment with lots of virgin regolith available. It would have to be completely redesigned if you wanted one for someplace out-system later. Because it would be different soil, different solar flux and temperatures."
"And yet it seems to me it would be worth doing," Heather insisted. "We have a lot of regolith to run through. Let's talk to Jeff about it later. If it takes that long to do you'd have good job security. And I bet we'd learn a great deal we could apply to similar systems, as you said, in other environments."
"Don't forget, I'm a mining engineer. I'm drawing on a lot of practical experience the Armstrong people have, but working outside my specialty. For something this ambitious you need a mechanical engineer familiar with large scale automation and somebody who knows nano materials and advanced sintering tech."
"We can hire skills, but you'll still be administrator."
"Why me?" Mo asked.
"Your biggest qualification is that we trust you."
* * *
Lindsey finished the drawing and decided it wasn't something she'd offer for sale. It seemed too personal and emotional to sell, even though it happened in public. It seemed invasive of Dakota somehow. She'd viewed it and drew it, from the side, so both faces were visible in profile. Dakota was leaning back slightly, taken aback literally, not with an open mouth in shock, but lips parted and headed that way. Mr. Muños had a strong face in profile and she showed him holding a single digit aloft to restrain Dakota from leaving. His finger was not straight up, but tilted pointing toward Dakota, almost like an accusing gesture. His stern expression was powerful and unusual to anyone who knew the man. He was well known for being mild in manner most of the time. Lindsey would have never imagined him challenging someone to a duel. It seemed a significant event to her, but she didn't want to make a few dollars on the back of Dakota's discomfort. This would go in her portfolio and not be issued unless she did an illustrated historic narrative of Home, an idea she was still forming.
* * *
"So you were running from something," Helen said at work.
"Yes, everybody knows my business now," John said with a grimace. "If anybody else hates me enough to challenge me I'm exposed to them too. I doubt I'm worth the expense to the North Americans to assassinate. I'm sort of a remnant from the previous administration, so I shouldn't be too great an embarrassment anyway, but somebody may still resent me as a personal matter."
Helen laughed freely, which shocked John. It didn't seem humorous to him at all. His face must have said all that to her, because she seemed a little embarrassed and explained.
"You are too close to the problem to see how unlikely that is. You should have seen Ms. Benton's face when you told Muños your choice of weapons. The duel has this noble image of stern men in fancy period dress, standing their ground and one falling with a neat little hole drilled in him. Most folks had a much different, messier image in their head of what your duel would be like than the historic ideal. I'm sure most people figure you'll keep your weapons in case somebody else challenges you and you have long arms and mass what?"
"Uh, usually around ninety-six kilo, sometimes a little more, but I always lose it when it starts to creep up. I just like my mashed potatoes and hot buttered rolls way too much."
"Yeah, guy your size, very few sane people are going to want to give you a chance to beat on them with a heavy length of pipe. I think you are pretty safe."
"I hope so. It wasn't anything I wanted to do and I hope whatever demons are chasing you are under control too."
"Maybe I'll tell you that story some time. For now the people I worried about are less and less a concern. They have bigger game to chase," she said and smiled.
* * *
Jason wept openly. Jeff and Chen and Louis let him get it out of his system. Chen particularly felt bad for him, because it was his homeland too.
The display was horrific. There was war everywhere, much worse than any invader striking at the borders. It cut clear through the heartland where peasants had never known a disturbance for generations while their Emperors built and merged distant walls against the barbarians. Suddenly it was all around them in every town and village.
Some news leaked out, despite efforts to keep internal matters secret. There were too many cameras and sat phones to ever isolate a country again. The rest of the world watched in horror as civil servants and police were lined up by pits and shot mercilessly. When their pistols got too hot to hold, or they ran low on ammunition, the troops went back to bayonets and bludgeons. Nobody who depended on the state for their living was spared. The rebels had learned the lesson of the previous insurrection well. The symbols of the state were torn down, government offices and police stations burned and looted. At least nobody tried to blame any of this on Jeff or Home.
"What are they going to put in place once they have control?" Jeff asked.
"I don't know. The old system was so bad I was willing to try anything. I wasn't at a level where they really discussed the details of such plans with me. Just little things my commander would drop in conversation. I know they felt confrontation with Home was inevitable with the old government and my superior at least, said that would be a disaster. A lot of people are dying down there, but from our viewpoint at least they are the right ones. If we'd have suffered your bombardment the people who provoked it would have been largely protected, safe in tunnels and bunkers and the common people would have borne the brunt of it. I'm sure they will put a military government in control at first, at least nationally and start with civilian control at the village level. But I bet the local officials will limit corruption for a long time, because the memory of this will be strong for the next couple generations."
"You weren't promised a reward for bringing that message to us?" Chen asked surprised.
"No, I'm still not sure it will even be safe for me to return. I'm prepared to make a life here if I need to. In fact I'm finding I like it here. If my direct commander doesn't survive this to testify to his verbal orders I may just be another deserter and no way to prove different. Do you think me stupid to risk that?" he asked, sheepishly.
"I think you a genuine patriot, perhaps better than China deserved," Chen said.
Jason just looked down, embarrassed to be praised.
Jeff looked at the map, covered with all sorts of icons and dots. Every marker meant something bad happening. It was a much better display than they'd had when fighting North America.
"Earth's two most powerful nations are both under untried, possibly unstable rule. I'm glad we decided to move a little further away," Jeff said.
"The neighbors of both countries are probably not too thrilled right now. They don't have the option to move and no idea what will spill over," Chen pointed out. "Like Taiwan."
"You know, I threatened I would make them understand us, but I've come to understand you can't make somebody understand you on an emotional level. If they haven't been taught empathy at their mother's knee all they can see are those like them and others. I was silly to think I could teach such a lesson," he admitted.
"It takes me longer to learn social things, I'm really not good at it and I fear I still have a ways to go in that department. Heather and April do try to help me. But you can still manage people with greed and fear, they are just cruder tools. I find I'm the one getting a depth of understanding instead of forcing it on them. Unfortunately understanding them better hasn't led to me having any more empathy or affection for the Earthies, just the opposite. Mostly I just want to stay away from them and as much as we can, contain them."
"Certainly the L1 doctrine makes that clear," Jason said.
"For now. But people chafe under restrictions. Sons resent the treaties their fathers were happy to sign. By the time they heal from these coups and start to get restive again I want us all over the solar system and too spread out and numerous to challenge," Jeff avowed.
"If one may make a suggestion," Chen said very diffidently, "Don't cut off the high value individuals. It's the state not the man who will try to cause you trouble. As long as the person who wants a frontier and opportunity can leave his Earth nation and come here, he will likely be your ally. If you bar him and make him resent you as exclusionary, then he can readily be a tool his nation will use against you."
"I knew that, but you expressed it better than I could. I'll speak to Jon Davis and Steve Lewis, Eduardo Muños and Eddie. I'd appreciate it if you would speak to them in support. If the matter of immigration comes up in the Assembly and people want to curtail it we can all speak against that. If those well known men can shape the discussion then it's likely public opinion on it can be directed."
"I'm honored you think I can persuade such a high powered crowd. I'd be happy to try."
"The idea stands on its own," Jeff said with a dismissive gesture. "It's just a matter of making them familiar with it, before somebody else presents an opposing meme that has to be removed for this one to be seen as superior."
"Are you trying to form a political party?" Chen asked. The idea didn't seem to make him particularly happy.
"No. We may differ on other things than immigration. I'd love to see some way to make anything like the traditional political parties Earthies are used to impossible. They're part of the problem. They require you to compromise, because their platforms never entirely conform to your thoughts and needs. Sometimes they serve just about nobody except the few who use them to acquire power and they represent concentrations of power that frighten me," Jeff said.
"Thus speaks the man who has enough nuclear weapons to hand to largely destroy my nation," Jason said, lifting his fist in a grip like you could hold such a thing.
"Ideas are much more dangerous things than any weapon," Jeff insisted. "I'm happy to see the idea of volunteer representatives to the Assembly for interest groups has largely died out already. They had too narrow a focus and people found they wanted to express their view with their own vote. The shipbuilders still have a Spox, but he is just that, a speaker to let them express their consensus on matters to cut down on unnecessary speech in Assembly. He in no way tells them what to think."
"But you said you want to see the whole solar system populated and I assume you mean full of economic activity too," Chen reminded him. "Do you picture Home controlling such a far-flung bunch with different interests?"
"Not at all. I expect in a few decades I will have interests in Home, the moon and out to Jupiter and beyond. There will be people who are more concerned with local issues say on Mars or among the Jovian moons. It would be as stupid to try to manage them to my benefit and their detriment, just like Earth failed to stifle us. But there will be a lot of people like me who will have an interest there, as well as here on Home and I hope we can set a balance where I have a voice both places."
"Will you try to influence them to form a government like Home's?" Jason asked.
"No, we already have a monarchy on the moon. It's different, but it seems to be coexisting quite well. And see? It serves my interests quite nicely even though it is different. I think the best thing we can do to encourage the new governments to be more like us and less like Earth, is to succeed. All the propaganda and lobbying in the world won't have as much chance of influencing them to be more like us and less like Earth, than simply seeing that it is a horrid mess," he said, pointing at the huge map, "and what we do works."
Chapter 27
"April do you have a little time later I can demo something for you?" Jeff asked.
"After supper?" she asked.
"That would be fine. At my office? I have it set up there. It'll save me moving it."
"I meant, will you have supper with me and then we'll go look at it?"
"I'd like that. At the cafeteria?" he asked.
"Cafeteria if you want to eat first. If you want to eat at my cubic, we do the demo first, so I can stuff you and lounge around after in no hurry to go anywhere."
"Your place then," he agreed. "I need to relax a little."
"1830 hours. If you can show me in an hour, because dinner will be cooking."
"An hour is plenty," he agreed.
* * *
"Why are you frowning? Deloris demanded.
Barak knew her well enough now to realize there was a core of insecurity about her, likely with good reason and he didn't want to feed it.
"Jeff gave me this problem, of making a list of people qualified for a star ship, but the way we go about it is all wrong, it just doesn't work."
"Why not? After a year and a half or two all sealed up with us you will should know us like siblings. What could be better?"
"You I'll know like a sibling. Our captain and XO I won't have traded a hundred words with between them. Maybe that's the secret to getting along on a long voyage. Stagger the shifts and avoid seeing most of the other crew as much as possible."
"You'll have to work pretty close with him putting the plasma jets out on the snowball."
"That's true. Maybe by the time we get that done we'll have had out fill of each other and be happy to ignore each other again all the way home," he said amused.
"But what Jeff is asking me to do is an anomaly. Jeff trusts me because we are very close, but I'm a very junior member of the crew and this is only going to happen for the first star ship and probably just for part of that crew. Normally I wouldn't be trusted to do this and even this time he'll need more people than I know and can evaluate. Even if I make other voyages to the outer system and build up a bigger list before he starts to build a starship, some of them will be chosen based on the same old style of interviews and psychological evaluations that picked Harold Hanson for this ship. Worse yet, April's grandpa told me some stories about projects where the person doing the hiring was a warped personality and when that happens he tends to hire people like him, so then you have a whole crew of misfits that can't get along with each other."
"Well, as I said, they didn't get a ton of applications and he does do his job. He just happens to be irritating as hell when he isn't doing his job."
"I don't see Alice much more than you see Harold. Is she OK to work with?"
"Well, she clicks her tongue and isn't aware she does it. In a year I may go berserk and cut it out. Other than that I have no big problems. I'm grateful it's mostly you with Harold. He'd find ways to be slimy with me if we were together all day long, stimulating his imagination."
"I can take him for a year and a half. Although his impact on me is less than on you ladies. But consider, if we were going to the Centauri System and the first time would be fifteen years both ways and a couple years in system exploring. Even if we had a crew of a hundred and if there is a match and partner for everybody, somebody is going to get stuck with a Harold, or nobody, for a very long time."
"With a hundred people I think you will always have one or two who are single and even if they hired all married couples the same pairs wouldn't all come home that started. You'd have some shuffling of the deck so to speak. I don't think anybody has the tools to eliminate Harolds," Deloris declared. "I don't think psychology, or psychiatry, is advanced enough to sort them out."
"I agree," Barak told her. "That's why we need new tools that will tell us who are flaming jackasses with who we don't want to be locked in a little can for decades."
"You could have a few extra and change the rules to let us pitch them out the airlock when we find they are insufferable," she suggested.
"Would you sign up knowing the crew could do that to you?" he asked.
She shrugged. She wanted to go so badly, maybe she would.
"I'm working on it still, but I'm leaning right now toward using a game. To get a berth you'd have to be in a role playing game for an extended period of time. Maybe a year or two even and it would require interacting with all the other players and everybody would be evaluated by all the other players, not just a supervisor or a human resources executive. Instead of a professional evaluation we'd sort of crowd source a consensus about their personality. If somebody is a horrible argumentative person who makes others unhappy it will show up, even if it is the passive aggression that some love to do. They can't just put on a false face for a few days to get on board and them show their true colors when it's too late...to apply your solution."
"You don't think they can fake it in the game?" she asked, a little skeptical still.
"Have you ever know anybody in an online group or interest forum to go months without revealing it if they are a troll or sociopath?"
"Hmm. You may have something there. Most of them can't keep from making off color snarky remarks or going into a big rant for a day, much less a year. Online seems even harder to control than face to face. Would you like some help with this? You pointed out I'm a little older than you and I can bring the feminine view, because people like Harold are obnoxious differently to me than to you."
"I'd be very glad of the help," he told her honestly.
* * *
"Might you spare me a few minutes to speak with you on a break, or at the end of your shift?" Chen asked Ruby as she was servicing the coffee pots.
Ruby definitely gave him a fish eye. "Should I call my husband to come speak with us too?"
"That's up to you. I don't know if he is informed about what I'd ask, but he is welcome to listen. I've been told he has, competencies. How is he at assessing personnel?"
"Depends. If you are hiring an executive chef or a pianist I'll likely have more to say. If you are looking for a combat pilot, assassin, or a spy like yourself, he'll know more."
Chen resisted the urge to take a step back. He was quite used to people taking a step back away from him, but he consciously invaded their space sometimes to intimidate people, especially North Americans. Ruby hadn't really stepped toward him. He had come so close she couldn't without bumping him. But she'd turned with one foot at the base of the counter and she'd taken the handle of the full carafe of coffee like she was going to move it, but she didn't. She looked relaxed, not braced, but she was positioned to push off the counter base and the pot of scalding hot coffee suddenly seemed a potential weapon. Chen remembered Papa-san saying when the Chinese had tried to assassinate April, the man had been shot and Tasered, but Ruby had been wiping the counter about where they were standing and still managed to stick a knife through the fellow's kidney before he had time to fall. He looked over at the tables. They seemed a long way away, compared to where he was right now.
"Please, invite him then," Chen agreed, completely ignoring the crack about his being a spy. "I want to ask you about Gabriel," he said, which he hadn't intended to reveal just yet.
"He's an excellent young man," Ruby informed him. "My husband is very fond of him, as I am. We'd be very upset of anything that... interfered with him."
Damn, this wasn't going well, nor where he wanted it to go. "That is exactly what Jeff Singh indicated, that he is a promising young man and suggested I might look at recruiting him in Jeff's service. But he said you could give me insight on whether that was appropriate."
"Ah, that's interesting. I haven't seen anybody suffer for dealing with Singh, but I don't want to discuss that here. You come to our cubic, two hours after shift change and I'll tell my husband to expect a guest for dinner. After being here all day I don't stay here and eat supper too usually."
"Thank you. What is the address of your cubic?"
"If you can't find out in two minutes you aren't a good enough spy for Gabriel to work with," Ruby told him and shifted the pot for an empty and turned her back on him.
Well, she had a point there, Chen admitted. But it took him five minutes. It seems somebody had made it more difficult than usual to find them. He didn't like feeling it was a test.
* * *
Jeff was at his offices already when April showed up early at 1810 hours. She had dinner in a slow cooker so she wasn't worried about it.
"You remember the suggestions you made about things we should try with the Bucky tubes after we found a way to link them and extrude them from a nano-sieve?"
"Yeah, but not word for word. I didn't bother to write any of it down," April told him.
"This is something they developed working with the idea of periodic defects in the tube wall. Remember they were able to spin them into a thread as well as for mats?"
"Yeah and it was sticky to just about everything."
"Well this is the thread produced by that sort of Bucky," Jeff said showing her a delicate black strand, about a hundred millimeters long. It was looped at each end through laser cut hole in the diamond, which was very smoothly radiused and polished. The thread was then braided back onto itself. The diamond was mounted in the eye of a forged tool steel hook, far larger and out of proportion to the thread, which looked to be no more than a tenth of a millimeter in diameter, about the same thickness as one of April's hairs.
Jeff mounted one hook to a simple frame. The other to a bin hanging just a few centimeters above a shock absorbing foam mat. He offered April a full face shield and put one on himself.
"I could buy a machine with hydraulic rams that tests materials for tensile strength, but they are heavy. It would cost a fortune to lift it and I didn't see any reason to throw that much money away when this is made of local materials and works fine."
He had a number of heavy plastic bags of iron sintering stock from the moon piled by the frame. "These are twenty kilo bags," he said lifting one into the bin, "and the smaller ones are five kilo."
April counted as he added bags, when he reached four hundred kilograms she was impressed, even at a half G. The thread looked impossibly thin to support that much weight. Then Jeff switched to the lighter bags. "When it breaks, it will be at the juncture where it is braided, one end or the other. It makes it slightly stronger if you make the loop longer, so the angle where they meet is narrower."
Jeff added five kilo bags gently, not shock loading it by dropping them. "Notice I'm staying further away than the thread could whip when it breaks. I've never had a short piece come off, but that's why I'm wearing spex with a diamond coating and the face shield."
When he got to four hundred forty kilograms the line parted and the bin dropped on the deck with a muted thud, but no bounce due to the foam.
"If you do this much your neighbors must love you. It has to be loud dropping on their overhead."
"It's commercial cubic and I promised the guy I'd call and let him know when I'll be testing. He's good with it."
"I suppose this will make us some money too? It certainly impressed me. It reminds me of the Bucky Braid the spy had, who invaded us a few years back.
"This? Yeah, but that was basically hand made from short pieces. It probably cost ten or fifteen thousand dollars USNA to have hand braided with micro-Waldos and still not quite as strong, This is cheap. It'll have a lot of uses in architecture and composites for vehicles. If I'd had cloth of this stuff I could have shaved a couple hundred kilo off the Happy Lewis when your grandpa and I modified it. But I showed you this just to give you a base line to understand the next thing I want to show you."
"This is a similar fiber," he showed her on the bench. It was even thinner than the previous one, almost invisible despite good lighting.
"I have to use different hooks with a diamond saddle for the fiber to hang. It's a length with the ends each looped in separate holes in a single diamond. It would be awkward to make it hanging from eyelets like the last. It's made this way so the ends are electrically insulated from each other." He changed the hooks out on the frame and using the diamond as a handle hung it on the top hook with tweezers. He put the bin back in place hanging on the bottom hook, with a single bag of material to put some tension on it.
"It has about a quarter of the cross section of the first one I showed you."
"So it should suspend about a hundred ten kilo?"
"Yes, if I left it like this. But we're going to do something else." He produced a small battery holder with wires, a switch and an amp meter. The wire ends had small soft plates of gold. Jeff put one little plate in the hole with the lower loop of Bucky thread and used a cone of sapphire to wedge it against the thread until it deformed over it and made good contact, squeezing it in with pliers. He repeated the action with the other hole. "So with the diamond acting as an insulator I have a circuit through the thread," he said tracing it with his finger.
"Oh, it's conducting, I didn't realize."
Jeff smiled. "Indeed it is, watch..." He flipped the switch attached to the battery holder. There was a sharp audible tick, April wasn't sure from what and the amp meter showed it was drawing five milliamps.
"What made a noise?" April wondered. "It didn't sound like the switch."
"The thread contracted slightly when the current flowed through it, to counteract the slight elongation it already had under tension."
"Anything that strong couldn't have stretched very far."
"No and most of the noise was from the face of the diamond anvils. Now watch." He added bags back to the bin suspended below until he had as much weight as the previous thread had failed to support. As he added bags the current showing in the meter went up each time, but in smaller increments, until it was carrying eighty milliamps. The last bag had only made it increase one or two milliamps.
"That's freaky. Nothing should be that strong," April insisted.
"The defects in the side walls of the tubes carry the current from one tube to another. It is a room temperature superconductor. The doping atoms prevent the carbon bonds around it from being pulled loose and a hex loop stretching until it breaks a bond and makes a loop with an extra carbon atom in it. Once that happens it propagates and the whole thing fails rapidly. If we added more weight the same thing would happen once the current plateaus. You can up the voltage and get a little increase, but pretty soon you have failure from heating and need to very aggressively cool it to prevent failure."
"But if you lose power..."
"Yeah," Jeff reached out and flipped the switch off and the load broke the thread immediately and dropped it to the deck.
"Why isn't Heather here to see this?" April wondered.
"She saw a smaller version of it on the moon and she has a house guest and wanted to be with her mom, so she didn't care to see it twice."
April nodded at that explanation. "Is this all from your friends at Armstrong?"
"It came through them to us, but it is from the French colony, which raises another bit of news. Now that we have established a line at L1, past which Earth powers may not send armed ships, they inform us they intend to declare independence within the year. They aren't sure when yet, but when they have a supply shuttle drop off things with sufficient room to take three or four of their politically appointed administrators back to Earth. They will expel them and declare themselves sovereign."
"They'll blame us!" April blurted out.
"Who?"
"France. We're on pretty good terms with them, but I can see it now, they'll blame us for their lunar colony rebelling."
"It's funny, Heather said the same thing, except that they'd blame Central. Perhaps they will, but it's hardly something we'd impede just on the off chance they'd take offense." When April still looked unhappy Jeff added: "If Japan had wanted us to forgo our independence because North American might blame them for encouraging it how would you have felt?"
"I wouldn't have cared what they wanted. They weren't the ones being oppressed."
Jeff just spread his hands in a gesture that said... "See?"
"Japan ended up helping us," April reminded him, "even though they did so quietly and didn't make a big public fuss the North Americans would respond to."
"Well, we will also help...whatever they end up calling themselves. If they've decided on a name nobody has told me. But the System Bank is quietly acquiring a good variety of seeds and biological samples from Earth for them. The license rights for this material with actively powered mechanical properties is one of the payments in kind we're getting for doing that. They also got our design experience for tunnel boring machines and intend to move very quickly to be self sufficient in food."
"And wine if I know the French."
"Indeed, they do have vine cuttings among the items. As well as stock for chickens and rabbits and vat tissues. I suspect they will not only survive, but eat very well."
"Are you ordering enough to let us try raising our own food at Central?"
"I certainly can if you think it prudent," Jeff offered.
"If we need it badly later, it'll be easier to ramp up than start from scratch. Expanding into the outer system it's going to be much too far to be hauling fresh food."
"You are probably right. We'll need to take a variety of things if we go to other stars too."
"Well yeah, if people like Jelly can get us to where we can count on living three or four hundred years. I'd consider seeing other star systems. and on that long of a trip you will sure need way more than a freezer full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."
"Oh, I was thinking more for colonizing and maybe even a certain level of Terraforming on the far end. But as for the trip, I was reading some interesting ideas from a Japanese fellow about quantum behavior. How out past the Oort Cloud, where there isn't much gravitational influence and space is pretty flat, things could act strangely. You might be able to stimulate tunneling of macroscopic objects. Things as big as a ship even..."
April didn't ask how. She knew better now. She'd asked how her Lunar armor changed color and other things that all seemed to have no explanation in anything resembling English. But she was pretty sure where this was going. She hadn't allowed herself to hope for it before.
* * *
"Mr. Davis? I'm Rao Guohua. I'm second chair in the Committee of Temporary Governance. I'm a colloquial English speaker and have traveled in space as a civilian, so I was asked to speak to you about ceasing hostilities."
"China is under military rule then?" Jon asked.
"Yes, for the time being we are under martial law. I will be frank with you in saying we feel confident of holding the nation, or I wouldn't be calling you yet, but there are still forces resisting us in remote areas and some naval units not responding to our orders."
"I'm not familiar with your uniforms. Of what rank are you? Do you have authority to bind your nation to agreements?"
"I'm a Dàxiào, what you'd call a senior colonel. If you are accustomed to USNA ranks it's closer to a low level general officer. I am entrusted to negotiate with you, but any agreement we come to will have to be presented and approved by the entire committee."
"Fair enough, our Assembly would have to approve any end to a state of war. So are you offering an unconditional surrender like we received from North America?"
Rao gasped, shocked speechless. When the shock subsided it was replaced with anger.
"Despite much damage the Chinese nation still exists and is greater and far more numerous, with assets your little nation can't approach. It is ridiculous to speak of a surrender. I wanted to negotiate a cease fire, not a surrender. Your making war on us is an irritant, an inconvenience to our consolidating power, not a threat to our existence."
"You'd have been better off arguing that you are an entirely new nation, not the one who decided to make war on us. Then we could reasonably say no state of war exists with the new state. But your own words build a trap for you. It is obvious you regard yourselves as a direct continuation of the Chinese state. I'm afraid you have the same megalomaniac mind set too. As I've heard it said, that nobody can oppose two billion Chinese. Do you think that too?"
"Exactly. The old regime was in error, but we as a nation are more than the plans of a few old men. So yes we are of the same basic nature. Our race and heritage demands a certain continuity of purpose. You don't discard millennia of culture overnight. The ship takes a slightly new course," Rao explained, making a thrusting gesture with his hand that bent to a new angle part way through the gesture.
"I'm having a hard time understanding the benefit of a cease fire to you. Home has not dropped a single munition on China, we've been hitting the UN and deferred all action on China to Jeffery Singh so far, since he is also at war with you. I speak with him and know that he bombarded the dam at Liyuan. I understand that created a cascade of failures which caused damage all along the Yangtze River, but he has not dropped another warhead on you since he announced he'd suspend bombardments. He's a man of his word and I'm sure he'd serve you notice if he intends to resume hostilities, so you effectively have a cease fire."
"But, Shanghai!...and Guangzhou!...Our fleets hit at sea!"
"Not-our-doing fool. You don't even know who is bombarding you. Did you send experts to analyze the fallout plume and identify what sort of weapons were used? The weapons Singh uses are one big bomb, not a grid of smaller weapons and they have no fission kernel to initiate fusion, so all the typical fission products are missing. Is such an obvious difference lost on you?"
Rao put a hand out to his board. Jon thought he was going to disconnect, but apparently it was just to steady himself. He certainly looked rattled.
"In the, confusion, chaos really, of civil war doing things such as sending people to collect samples and analyze them becomes very difficult. I will communicate your assertion to my people and see what can be determined. Things are steadier now and surely it is still possible to do on site investigations. I'll speak with you again."
"I'd remind you of a couple other facts you may be missing," Jon offered before he could go.
Rao just nodded his head in acceptance and didn't disconnect.
"Home is at war with the UN, if indeed such a body still exists and all those who actively supported their actions against us. That doesn't change the fact the Sovereign of Central also declared war against you when your ships entered her sky. Neither will ending war with Home mean anything to Jeffery Singh. He wars with you over issues of his family and as a Peer of Heather. Indeed he has called for your unconditional surrender, or vows to destroy you as a first world nation. Home did not lay that condition or threat on you. You will have to treat with them both separately to have no one at war with you. You people have precipitated three separate wars you have to deal with now. Plus whoever attacked you anonymously in the chaos."
"Surely you don't expect me to treat an individual with such gravitas?"
It was Jon's turn to look disgusted and angry. "Do you know? I've been urging Mr. Singh to be moderate and restrained every time I've spoken with him about coordinating with the militia. I thought him remarkably restrained considering he is still hurting and healing from the last assassination attempt on him by your nation."
"I haven't wanted to see him take such severe action that the climate of the northern hemisphere is disrupted and other nations damaged. I'm starting to see that as wasted effort. He has never revealed how many warheads, such as used to destroyed Jiuquan, he owns. When I've asked him or the Sovereign of Central what they hold, they've told me to mind my own business. But he has clearly indicated that if he wishes, he can strip China of about eighty percent of its industrial capacity and seventy percent of its population and still retain the ability to do the same sort of damage to North America. I believe him, but then I know the history, going back before our war with North America and have a different perspective than you."
"Perhaps you don't know, all this was started over a claim his mother owes the state for her education by your reasoning. That she stole that value by defecting. That might be what? A million Yuan? Do you still think it is cost effective to pursue that debt?"
"I have no knowledge of that," Rao admitted. "I'll present everything you've said to the committee," he promised and finally disconnected.
Chapter 28
"Did you have a good interview with Jason?" Jeff asked Chen.
"He spoke to me freely and I have no doubt after interrogating him and doing a voice analysis, that he was entirely truthful about his mission to us. Or at least if there was any deception it was in his handlers, not him. I really didn't get any new information from him. He simply wasn't high enough up in the conspiracy to know more. But I did send him to Friedman and Brockman to see if they want to recruit him. Turns out they sent him to be evaluated by Mackay and Holt. They ran him through a bunch of zero G proficiency tests and really hit it off, so it looks more like they will be a team of three, rather than having an extra. Their work has been so disrupted by our move and the trouble with China that they are all working construction for now, until business picks up and there is more demand for security services again."
"Traffic is down. I had some people inform me New Las Vegas had almost a twenty percent drop in tourist traffic when the UN sent out that letter to us. Nobody wants to vacation in a war zone."
"You were right too, suspecting he wasn't comfortable with a ship full of ex-Chinese military. I don't think he'd ever relax and be sure their defection wasn't a ruse. I can understand, being from China myself. If you think everybody is a state snitch and hidden agent it isn't paranoia, it's just smart. He didn't see all the voice analysis and brain traces like I did."
"You could have shown them to him," Jeff suggested.
"No, first he doesn't have the training to read them. It just transfers asking that he trust them, to asking him to trust me. And I'd be uncomfortable, knowing he's smart enough to realize I applied the same level of scrutiny to him as them. It might leave him offended."
"Thank you. You see the social side of it better than me," Jeff allowed.
* * *
"April says she would like to meet you when we get back," Barak said. "Heather is on station right now so all three of them are together for a little bit. That's good."
"You talk to April about me?" Deloris asked, concern written all over her face.
"Well of course. I talk to you about April," he said, reasonably.
"That's different."
"Are you embarrassed for people to know you were with such a young guy who doesn't have any degrees or competency tickets?"
"No, it's not you, it's me."
"Ah, OK, so I should be embarrassed to be with such a cute, smart lady with a pilot's ticket and an engineering degree. Am I stepping above my station?"
"No! But you said you've had a crush on April since you were eight and she accepts your affection when she has other much more powerful and wealthy friends. Why jeopardize that? She may be offended you took up with me."
"She doesn't think like that," Barak assured her. "Not to hurt your feelings, but I think that's a little lingering Earth Think. Now if I wanted to be with you for this long voyage and then pretend like it didn't happen and deny you...Lord, would she rip into me for a hypocrite!"
"Really?"
"Really. April and I have never made any promises. We care a great deal for each other; she's shown that in many ways. But a lot of people I've seen think once you are family they are stuck with you and they can revert to their natural form of being a jerk. I have to keep treating her well. Now, I suspect she may have some promises with Jeff and Heather. They would never talk about it. But I suspect they are more political than romantic."
"I don't think your natural form is a jerk. I swear you'd need training."
"We know where I could get it don't we?"
"If you pick up more than lab skills from Mr. Hanson, you may end up mighty lonely."
"First you rip my ear half off, now threats," he complained.
* * *
"Mr. Davis," Rao Guohua greeted him on comm again. "The committee sends greetings and asks if you will entertain an offer to resolve the conflict between Home and China?"
"I'll certainly listen to it. Be aware if I have my doubts about it I will discuss it with a few close friends who supervise the elections and militia, as to whether it is worth presenting. I don't intend to go back and forth between you and the Assembly with small changes in terms. All our people who have assumed the obligation of taxation vote and it isn't fair to demand their time repeatedly when they have work and family to attend to. Indeed you might wear them down and get them to accept an inferior offer and I'd feel responsible for that."
"Taxation is voluntary?" he asked with a very strange look on his face.
"Yes, if you want to vote you must accept the burden."
"May one ask how many obligate themselves?"
"It was down to about 85% for awhile after we had an influx of people, but I understand from our Registrar of Voters it's back to about 90%.
"Very interesting. But, about the offer, I think the one I bring is worthy, you can of course tell us if it needs serious adjustment."
Jon just nodded.
"The People's Republic would acknowledge Home as a sovereign nation. We agree to keep armed vessels within the limits of L1 without the explicit permission of Home. We agree to cease all clandestine operations beyond the atmosphere. We agree to forego any actions with third parties against Home as to their location or commercial interests. In turn Home acknowledges the right of the People's Republic to quiet existence inside our traditional borders. Also the right to unarmed free travel and trade beyond L1unhampered by Home."
"We are trying to keep it short and simple. What do you think?"
"I think you are making a genuine effort, since you didn't present some hundred page document full of weasel words, qualifiers and traditional diplomatic double speak. I'd drop the language about, "without the explicit permission of Home". This is like having a preacher marry a couple and say, "Unless they decide to have a divorce." It's already understood and to mention it just suggests it is expected and unseemly."
"Also, we're realists, we don't really expect you to stop spying on everyone. We just want you to stop sending assassins and engaging in wet work. It's better not to clutter an agreement with things nobody will really do. It weakens it. Likewise with third party actions it should be absolute, not something you have to classify and define as rights to a location or commercial actions as a test to see if it is prohibited. You might change unarmed travel to unarmed vessels, because we don't care if your citizens pass through our territory with personal arms. Private arms for personal protection are not a problem to us, just arms capable of blowing us out of the sky."
"If you want unhampered travel beyond L1 I assume you desire the right to travel to or make connections through Home itself. It seems to me that if that is what you mean you should reciprocate and guarantee safe conduct and non-interference with Home citizens traveling through China or other Earth nations. I'll run this past a few smart friends and see if they catch anything I missed, but that's what I see off the top of my head. What do you think?"
"I'm surprised you found so much to alter, it will be really difficult to speak publicly of wet work. I think we need to find a reasonable euphemism. I'll submit this to my committee and see what they come up with, just as you shall consult your smart friends," he said smiling.
"You do that. I'm encouraged we are fairly close."
"What of Mr. Singh and his ally. the Sovereign of Central?"
"What of them? I don't speak for them. I'd get firmly reprimanded if I tried."
"Do you think they would accept similar agreements to end our state of war with them?"
"Heather? Maybe. I can't see what interest she'd have in conflict with those terms. You really need to ask her. But Jeff Singh? I doubt it. I'm pretty sure you are going to have to explicitly renounce your claims on his mother and the debt of her education and agree not to target them for assassination again or steal their ships. That really provoked him. He lost employees killed in that. I guess I don't really need to tell you that, you lost your Space Center over it. I don't know how pliable he is on an unconditional surrender. I don't know what the hell he thinks he will do with one."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Rao said and looked honestly puzzled.
"We got an unconditional surrender from North America. We made very few demands and they still try here and there, to weasel out of some of the plain provisions like allowing free travel to Home without any restrictions. We didn't ask any changes to their political structure. Nor any real basic changes to their law. With two thousand people how do we even monitor their compliance, much less enforce it? So if you give him his unconditional surrender, for what can he reasonably ask? He has neither the ability to monitor any complicated demands, or any way to enforce them short of destroying your nation with a couple Gigatons of nuclear ordnance. It's such a big hammer it's pretty useless for delicate work."
"You have intimated he is not stupid. What then do you think is the point of his demand?"
"I think it is mostly symbolic. It was something the North Americans demanded in their earlier history as the United States and something many of the students of their history admire. It says, you will damn well will admit you are defeated and have no leverage to say you are yielding as a convenience and the outcome was uncertain if you'd cared to press on to the end."
"I can understand the advantage. If you yield when you could have fought on, inflicting more damage on your opponent, then certainly you'd have much more leverage to argue for better terms if you are saving him further harm. Indeed you might be so bold as to start hostilities again if you don't think the terms take that into account."
"Can making such a philosophical point be worth so much to him?"
"Well, like any contract, you can analyze the merits of cost and benefit by turning it around and examining the value of it from the other side," Jon said, making a balancing motion between his hands, like comparing weights.
"I'm not sure...exactly how would we do that?"
"Well, from his side, it would seem that it is worth it to him to expend the munitions and accept any disapproval from other nations and people to make the point you are genuinely defeated."
"Looking at it from your side, you have to ask yourself if it is worth hundreds of millions dying and being reduced to third world status, to keep him from making that point."
"Not to say that the rest of the world will necessarily agree that your silence really proves you were never defeated, in the face of the physical evidence, but it may well be worth it to you, if it makes you feel better about yourselves. But I'm from a Western culture and probably will never understand the whole 'saving face' thing. If my butt is blown off having a pretty face seems small compensation."
"I understand now," Rao said. His horror of his expression said he really did. If he could explain it to his committee was a different question.
* * *
"It would perhaps irritate me less, if these portraits were not described in the "Home Homily" newsletter on the local net, as "selling like hotcakes", Eduardo Muños noted. "I have this mental picture of my face, straight on, grilled as a dark pattern on the top of a flapjack."
Lindsey hoped that was just a bit of overreaction to his usual strong sense of modesty. At least he had a bit of a smile in the interview. She really liked Muños and didn't want to irritate him. She thought her head and shoulder portrait of him was in good taste with a sense of dignity. He was surrounded, as was her style, by a subtle fringe of ghostly images of the habitat and critical events in its short history.
She'd sold several hundred prints of Muños, in a population of less than three thousand. That spoke to the high regard in which the people held Muños. That despite the fact she'd priced them much higher than her original intent, at the urging of Cindy and Frank, her mentors and employers.
Her drawings of Jon Davis, Robert Lewis, April Lewis, Dr. Nam-Kah Singh, Jeff Singh, Heather Anderson, Dr. Ajay Singh and Sylvia Anderson had all sold enough to justify her time spent making them, but Muños was the best seller.
The number of requests for private sittings and portraits of loved ones had overwhelmed her. The fact she'd even sold a few down below, when she'd done absolutely no advertising on Earth, had more mystified her than surprised her.
* * *
"Before I read the new form my committee created, was there anything your consultants on Home saw as a deal breaker or requirement beyond your ideas?" Rao Guohua asked.
"No, several of them suggested we hold out for the right to carry personal arms crossing your territory, but most felt you'd as soon agree to cut your head off with a rusty hacksaw blade as allow that. It was agreed that would probably be seen as something thrown out to derail any agreement instead of a serious request. There's a limit to bridging the cultural gap."
"I'm so glad. I'd be dismayed to have to present that to the committee. Just between us...I think a few of them would've just thrown up their hands and said to go ahead and bomb us."
"Yep, pretty much what I was trying to say. How did they take the rest of it?"
"The Committee of Temporary Governance acting for the Chinese nation offers to recognize Home as a sovereign state, to give both Chinese and Home citizens free travel rights across each other's territory, with guarantees of protection. To refrain from interfering directly or through third parties in the internal affairs of each other's politics, territory and relationship with others, including travel in other nations or unclaimed territory. To hinder none from seeking citizenship or licensing in the other's territory, but excluding dual citizenship. To allow unhindered economic acts between private parties of our nations. To take no judgments or actions against individuals outside their own country's legal structure. For China to send no armed vessels beyond the limit of L1 and Home to position no strategic weapons upon the Earth's surface or oceans. We both shall agree to seek no restitution for damages from previous acts of war and will hold no liability to individuals for their part in such acts of war."
"Very well thought out. I don't think we had any intention of setting weapons on Earth, but I don't see that as a problem."
"It seemed balanced. If we are being assigned limits you should be too."
"Ah, I understand now. I think I can present this to the Assembly in good conscience. I'll get back to you with a private statement if it is rejected, or a public announcement if they pass it."
"We are making the same offer to Ms. Anderson."
"You do realize this limits your solutions with Jeff Singh?" Jon asked.
"In what way?"
"Well if this is ratified, then you will be in violation and void it, if you assassinate him."
"It is our intention to reach an agreement with him. But we are hoping to keep the terms private for the dignity of the state."
"You want to save face by not having a public humiliation. I can understand that. It fits with what I understand about our cultural differences too. Despite how it looks from his public statements, Jeff isn't really full of himself. He may agree to keeping your settlement private, but he's a trader too. Don't be surprised if he wants a signed official document of the terms, that he'll agree to keep hidden as long as the terms are followed. Revealing it without cause would shame him deeply too. His personal word is much more important to his stature here and the willingness of people to do business with him, than a government's reputation."
"We are willing to sweeten the pot in other ways too. I believe we can come to an accommodation," Rao said. "Thank you for your advice."
* * *
To be published on Home net to ALL:
A state of war no longer exists between the People's Republic of China and Home citizen and Peer of Central, Jefferson Moses Singh. A mutual accommodation has been reached, privately satisfactory to both and there will be no further public announcements by either party.
Jeffery Moses Singh and the Committee of Temporary Governance
* * *
"Hello, Heather. I understand you have accepted the terms of peace with the Chinese just like Home?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, I didn't really get anything from them but an agreement to leave each other alone. In reality that's all I wanted in the first place. So I'm back to square one, minus two hundred ten rounds of very expensive cannon ammunition, a few thousand hours of work building our road system and three million cubic meters of debris to back fill. It isn't a very spectacular deal."
"I also settled with them. They explained that since they can no longer project an armed presence past L1, it seems impossible to them to maintain a lunar colony. So they are withdrawing their claims on all the territory recognized and mapped and marked around that post. I agreed to assume the burden of providing transportation to their nationals who wish to be repatriated since they no longer have a lunar capable shuttle in service. I'm going to bring them directly to Home and send those who wish on to China by commercial carrier. If you could send your jump bug, to lift them to the shuttles, that would be a lot cheaper than shuttle landings."
"That's still quite an expense. Why should you have to do that? Their moon base was never directly involved. How many do you have to move?"
"They estimate twenty six. And a dozen are electing to stay behind. The thing is, they don't want to leave the base just abandoned, so I had to agree to provide a civil structure, maintain order and assume responsibility for their safety and supply. I'd hoped you would agree to extend the umbrella of your sovereignty over the area. You can style it a dukedom or whatever you want, but I don't have time to go there and run it."
"Do you have anyone who could go with the jump bug and act as a civil administrator? Technically they are ceding all the infrastructure and things like rovers to me for my service. However I think we'd get much better cooperation and long term return from the property if you asked the dozen staying behind what they want to claim as personal property. I wouldn't let anybody get a strangle hold on their neighbors by claiming anything like the air plant, but certainly they should feel more secure having a private residence and at least some of the transportation."
"So you basically got their entire lunar territory in settlement?" Heather asked, stunned.
"I wouldn't call it that, especially publicly, please," he begged her. "I assumed a responsibility for a situation I helped create. As you said, it's going to be a large expense besides all the administrative work. I got a small cash grant to help me at first with the obligation, but I agreed to keep that private, as well as the amount, so the public doesn't get a false picture of our mutual intent. Somebody not understanding the work and expense involved might just think it was an unjustified windfall."
"Heavens, that would be terrible," Heather said in a flat voice.
"Do you have somebody who can do an inventory and survey and see what will be needed to be shipped in when the present supplies run low and find out how the folks who stayed behind intend to support themselves and who might need to be hired to serve the local community?"
"Does the local lord intend to cover salaries if I need to hire some of them?"
"Yes, although I'd rather trade in kind as much as possible."
"Are the locals aware they are choosing to stay behind in what will be a kingdom?"
"Yes, apparently you already have something of a reputation there. I called on com and spoke with the one fellow staying who was an administrative sort. He said it can't be any worse than working for a Central Committee."
"High praise," Heather said, with suspect sincerity.
"So will you do it?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, We shall send Annette, Dakota's oldest daughter to establish order."
"You enjoy saying that don't you?"
"It gives Us great pleasure. We love you and give Our love and greetings to Dame Lewis."
"I will, in direct quote. It will give me much pleasure and frost her cookies too."
Heather broke the connection and sat thinking. Jeff got a pretty good deal. Certainly enough even in the short term to square the damages they'd suffered. She hadn't thought to ask him what they should call it. The Chinese name obviously had to go. She didn't care for Latin and everything near it was stupid Anglicized. Perhaps some historic reference, she mused, or mythological. Even literary. Just the thing jumped to mind and she smiled. Camelot!
- The End -
© 2013 All rights reserved
The Last Part : Other Books and Links by Mackey Chandler
April (first in series)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EOE2C
April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. She finds herself involved with intrigues that stretch her abilities, after a chance run in with a spy. There is a terrible danger she and her friends and family will lose the only home she has ever known in orbit and be forced to live on the slum ball below. It's more than a teen should have to deal with. Fortunately she has a lot of smart friends and allies, who give them a thin technological edge in rebellion. It's a good thing, because things get very rough and dicey.
Down to Earth (sequel to April)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007RGBIVK
April seems to make a habit of rescues. Now two lieutenants from the recent war appeal to her for help to reach Home. The secret they hold makes their escape doubtful. North America, the United States of North America, has been cheating on their treaty obligations and a public figure like April taking a very visible vacation there would be a good way to remind them of their obligations. Wouldn't it? Her family and business associates all think it is a great idea. She can serve a public purpose and do her rescue on the sly too. But things get difficult enough just getting back Home alive is going to be a challenge. It's a good thing she has some help. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
The Middle of Nowhere (third in April series)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Middle-Nowhere-April-ebook/dp/B00B1JJ7RQ
April returns home from her trip down to Earth unhappy with what she accomplished. Papa-san Santos is finishing her rescue of the Lieutenants, Her traitorous brother is dead and so many things are uncertain. The Chinese and North Americans both continue to give her and Home a hard time. But April, Jeff and Heather are gathering allies and power. China, trying to steal Singh technology, gets its hand slapped badly by Jeff and the Patriot Party in America is damaged, but not gone. Their project on the moon is not so easy for North America to shut down, especially with the Russians helping. Heather proves able to defend it forcefully. They really didn't know she owns a cannon. The three have their own bank now, Home is growing and April is quickly growing up into a formidable young woman, worthy of her partners.
A Different Perspective (fourth in April series)
http://www.amazon.com/Different-Perspective-April-ebook/dp/B00DFL42PU
Despite winning a war against one of the world's super powers and undertaking a mission to Earth to try to demonstrate their independence, April and her new nation still find their freedom tenuous. There are shortages and hostility and machinations against them behind the scenes. Their small technological lead on the Earthies is about the only advantage they have besides courage and sheer nerve. But they are attracting the right sort of people and if pressed, they still are capable of bold action. Home is growing physically and maturing. So is April.
Paper or Plastic?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004RCLW68
Roger was medically discharged after his service in the Pan Arabic Protectorate, cutting off his chosen career path early. He is living in rural Sitra Falls, Oregon trying to deal with hyper-vigilance and ease back into civilian life.
When an unusual looking young woman enters his favorite breakfast place he befriends her. Little does he know he'll kill for her before lunch and start an adventure that will take him around the world and off planet.
When you have every sort of alphabet agency human and alien hunting for you survival is the hard part. But you might as well get rich too.
Family Law
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS
You know people who love their dogs. They put them in their will. They forgo vacations to stay home and take care of them.
Can a dog love back or is it simple self interest? Affection or love? Unconditional or a meal-ticket? What if you dog could talk back? Would your dog be less lovable if he could tell you what he thinks, like your spouse? If he complained his kibbles were dry and boring, would your affection wear thin? I don't want to touch on what a cat might tell you...
Is the dog part of your family, or property? Who should decide that for you? How much more complicated will it be, if we meet really intelligent species, not human?
Humans don't have a very good history of defending the interests of others. Even variations of their own species. How will they treat 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How will they treat us? Usually the people who answer these sort of questions have no desire to be on the pointy end of things. They are just minding their own business and it is thrust upon them. This story explores those questions
Common Ground and Other Stories
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0050YYVHY
A book size collection of seven short stories by Mackey Chandler. Ranging from single page to novella. The seven shorts contain an alien with a very human foible, a joker Joyboy banished to selling shoes on the moon, a crotchety old man holding aliens at bay with a leaf blower, the ultimate Windoze -FAIL-, a self made billionaire who never lost his touch, a sword wielding Earth diplomat. who was either very, very good, or incredibly lucky and a future Mama's boy dealing with family, in an era of extended life times.
Going Up? And Other Stories
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IGMRUOI
A collection of short stories. Stand alone and two that are related. Looking at ideas as different as an alien religious mission to Earth and a young hillbilly who greets Earths new conquerors. A very short story of indeterminate genre, and two stories with some time between them that may eventually be connected if I live long enough...
Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2
Mac's Writing Blog:
http://www.mackeychandler.com