Been There, Done That
Book ten of the April Series
Mackey Chandler
Cover by Sarah Hoyt

Chapter 1
Jeff Singh read several supposedly professional journals, explaining why the whole sordid affair of James Weir and the Pedro Escobar was a fraud, with amazement. The articles seemed worthy of gossip sites instead of business or scholastic publications. Several suggested the entire event was a virtual construct and no ship had ever been built or launched. Jeff noticed that all the people suggesting that had never been above the atmosphere. They were not physicists or engineers, or even anyone who ever had to deal with the realities of space traffic control as a pilot. The author of one such theory was an entomologist, and Jeff wondered if the publication committee misread her specialty?
In Jeff’s opinion, the more insistent and sarcastic the certainty with which Weir’s disappearance was denounced, the more thoroughly the people spouting that sort of stupidity would be proved wrong in time. The Earthies would make Weir’s drive work, Jeff was sure of it. He wasn’t sure what happened the instant it vanished, or where the Pedro Escobar ended up. Maybe it no longer existed in this universe. He just wasn’t sure.
What he did know was that he’d already been to another star twice in a ship based on the same math, with slightly different engineering. Some of his close confidants thought him crazy to pass up the opportunity for fame and glory. Jeff wanted a head start to get out there and lay claim to the best real estate before the mob arrived. He also suspected that in the long term, when the late comers found him and his partners already out there among the stars, the historic record would be edited and he’d get the proper credit anyway.
Neither could he imagine any of these naysayers ever making a public retraction or apology, no matter how thoroughly proved wrong. That was about as likely as any of them retiring in shame. Most of them seemed immune to embarrassment much less shame. Certainly none would lose their job. Journalists seemed to thrive in their careers after repeated failures as easily as economists.
Just because there was no agreement about what had happened to Weir and his ship, and a great deal of public misdirection, that didn’t mean Weir’s partners and possibly others weren’t hard at work pushing ahead to try again. The lack of excess ship building capacity would undoubtedly slow them, but there were enough facilities that somebody would build another vehicle for them if enough money was thrown at the problem.
Jeff wondered if Weir’s Brazilian partners actually believed any of the slurs leveled against Dave, who built Weir’s ship, but there was no way to tell. He often visited Dave’s shop and there simply wasn’t anything large enough being built to be such a repeat project. The fact he wasn’t building for them again suggested that they at the least had doubts about Dave’s shop now. However, Dave was so secretive about his customer’s business that he’d never tell Jeff if Weir’s partners had asked him to build for them again.
Since Dave was now a minor partner in building a ship with Jeff, Heather, and April, he might very well quietly turn down a new commission from Weir’s people. Knowing Dave, he’d likely have moral qualms and consider it assisting suicide to build a ship based on a failed design.
Jeff couldn’t see any possible benefit in trying to speak to Weir’s partners personally. Meeting Weir himself had been instructive, and Jeff had actually liked him, however, dealing with his Earthie partners was a very different matter than dealing with James Weir alone.
Further development could be happening right now, behind the scenes, if government players were involved as Jeff and his ladies suspected. It was only six months since Weir’s ship disappeared. Realistically, Jeff would have expected some time to pass in analysis of the event, and careful consideration of design changes in design for the next generation ship, even if public support had proved to be generous and consistent. It might still be too early for them to be letting ship-related orders to subcontractors for new components and sub-assemblies, but Jeff and his people were watching for that sort of activity closely.
Even if Weir’s partners, and their suspected backers, went to the hugely expensive way of building components on Earth, there was still no way lifting that many heavy pieces could be hidden. Lift capacity was strained and stand by shipping often backed up months for anything but the smallest parcels. You couldn’t slap a standby sticker on a something like a three hundred kilogram forged aluminum bulkhead and motor mount without having every UPS guy and dock rat tell the story around. He would find out. Maybe they could keep things like that secret on military vessels, but Jeff doubted the military had anywhere near enough uncommitted launch capacity either.
Thinking about that, and the ties they had seen between Weir’s partners and their French relatives, Jeff composed a short text to Chen, their primary intelligence guy.
“Chen, please direct our assets toward detecting any major increase in the ability of the French to build another light space-craft like the one Dave’s built for James Weir. That might happen in the area of the Turnip, or elsewhere in orbit. It could be evident from increased traffic to the new facility. Research or military satellites could be used as a cover. Also, it would not be impossible for a small craft to be built at the Marseille lunar outpost. I will ask Heather to watch for any signs of such activity from Central. – Jeff”
The truly amazing thing was that one of the news personalities who had quickly accused Dave’s shipbuilding shop of sabotaging Weir’s ship and stealing the design now claimed the Pedro Escobar had never actually flown. The obvious impossibility of both claims being true didn’t seem to bother her or her fans.
The company with which Weir had been associated was a closed partnership. Hence it didn’t suffer a series of surges and crashes in stock price as public opinion flip flopped back and forth based on the most recent news article or web video. Those claiming fraud never explained who was defrauded and where the illicit profit went, since the ship was all privately funded and took no money from any outside investors, or public funds.
Perhaps the very craziest idea advanced was that the underlying paper published years ago was wrong and should have never been accepted. Since perhaps one person in a hundred thousand in the general population could understand and judge that paper it was pointless to refute it. Not that Jeff wanted to stir up a public debate. He knew better. If people wanted to believe all that garbage Jeff wasn’t about to correct them. It served his purposes just fine if their ravings hindered the development of a star drive for years.
Jeff just plowed ahead with the design of their own star ship, the Hringhorni. They were at the point now where the design was frozen for some of the larger components and they were already let for fabrication. As much as possible, the design would be modular, like the old Happy Lewis. If they wanted to cut out the command cabin and tack a new one in a year from now the cable runs and deck plates would line up to accept new consoles, new wiring, and different command couches with minimum fuss. If modularity knocked a couple percentage points off the ultimate performance that was a price he was willing to pay for utility and delayed obsolescence.
Was the Hringhorni going to be used ten years from now for high gravity planetary landings and exploration, or to help set up a colony? No, but it could do survey work with a small crew and few resources, and hopefully avoid an early obsolescence for that very specialized task. This first configuration only had four seats in the command cabin, and could fly with a crew of two if needed. Carrying more would limit acceleration since the simple bolt in seats wouldn’t have gravity compensators.
It was a better plan for their initial explorations than trying to guess what they needed in huge vessel, with a big crew working in shifts, carrying dozens of specialists, and landing shuttles. That sort of a ship could be built to be suitable to such new worlds after they were found. Then they would know what specialties and equipment were needed for the worlds they found, once they knew if they were water worlds or dry, with breathable air or not, instead of trying to cover every possibility.
They still hadn’t picked a destination for a shake-down cruise. Jeff had discussed it with his crew, and had yet to reach a consensus he could present to his partners April and Heather. A quick trip to Alpha Centauri again seemed safest. They knew there was a world there to survey. They also knew their drive had made a safe jump there and back twice. Kurt favored that, and a return to the Moon, followed by other single jump missions to the closest stars.
The pilot Deloris was aggressive in personality and proposed a loop across three or four stars and back home. Jeff turned that idea down as politely as possible. If they had a mishap along the way there was little chance a second vessel would ever find out where and how they failed. Or if it did, it might only do so by duplicating the loss.
Alice, the third crew member, knew her limitations, and said she didn’t have the expertise to form an opinion. She allowed that she would bet her life on their good judgment. Jeff would just as soon she hadn’t put it that way.
All that went out the window when April left a voice message.
“Dearheart – I’ve been talking with Heather and I’m aware you are training crew, but I’m hoping you have not made an actual itinerary yet for testing the Hringhorni. I have a proposal for using it which will probably only take a week or two but give you opportunity to test the environmental systems and other things in a safer manner than star hopping.
It occurred to me we are ignoring some very low hanging fruit in taking resources for ourselves. In our own solar system there are bodies much more valuable than the Rock, that the Earthies have no way to exploit, and we do.
With your drive and the tech Heather has put into operation we no longer need to bring a smaller body into the Earth-Moon system to mine it efficiently. I propose to survey and lay claim to minor bodies right here. That has training value for your crew. I’m open to suggestions, but am thinking Ceres, Eris, Haumea, and Makemake. They are of diverse composition and large enough to be worth owning. The crew would take samples and seismic readings on each body.
There was a lander on Ceres some years ago but never a human presence. If the lander’s presence presents a problem, I’d propose returning the lander to the European Space Agency. I know the Earthies would never respect a corporate ownership, so I asked Heather if she would declare them under her sovereignty, hoping the legality of it is less disturbing to the Earthies. She’s good with that as long as we administer them like you have Camelot, without adding to her own administrative burden.
Heather also suggests putting some sort of permanent structure on each body and a radio beacon that can be easily detected from Earth to make clear we are not making claims without a physical presence. I’d think a moon-hut would be sufficient structure initially. As long as you keep Dionysus' Chariot in this system it won’t be necessary to actually staff any of the sites. The Earth agencies can’t go visit them without a large effort that would be very visible to us. We would have time to jump ahead of them easily and be on location to object if they try to dispute our claims.
Heather is going to conference with her people to find out if it is practical to create versions of her regolith mining machines to place on those bodies with loose surface debris. That will be a start at making the whole venture profitable very early. I will come to the Moon soon to talk with both of you face to face. It’s past time for all three of us to have a nice visit anyway. – Love, April”
Well… That was in interesting. How could he turn that down, and why hadn’t he thought of it himself? Kurt, Delores and Alice all had experience with recovering a snowball, surely landing on a larger rocky planetoid would be easier. He already planned on the Hringhorni having landing jacks to support its weight up to a quarter G just for the purpose of being able to mine fuel and reactive mass from icy bodies. The crew might have other ideas too. He’d ask them.
* * *
A priority message from Chen was always business. He wasn’t a friend who would priority tag a message to her about social things. He ran Jeff’s intelligence operations. Their intelligence operations technically, but it was Jeff who actively managed him. April tried not to ask too much of him, since she knew he had plenty to do. Occasionally she asked him to research something, but he had a habit of refusing to hand those requests off to subordinates, so that made her avoid burdening him all the more. April wasn’t sure if Heather ever assigned him anything to investigate. As a sovereign she must have things that needed to be watched and researched, but they never discussed it. Heather might have her own people. Certainly her aide Dakota seemed capable of such work.
This message was copied to both her partners, so it was of general interest to all of them. Chen had agents and sources on Earth, but this was triggered by a very public action. The news release was from the Texas Republic Secretary of State.
Dallas: ROT per the Secretary of State to all media
Due to increasing refugee pressure and incursions by criminals on our eastern border, and an inability to maintain border security due to the lack of public services, safety and suppression of outlaw activity on the North American side, the Republic announces it is annexing the adjacent territory south of the thirty third parallel and east to the Pearl River, comprising the territory of Louisiana and portions of Mississippi.
Elements of the Texas Militia supervised by Texas Highway Patrol will recruit local law enforcement and supplement them upon request. Border stations will be created and manned on the new boundaries. The old border stations will stay in operation until the situation is considered stable. The militia will deal with armed highwaymen and raiders without uniform summarily while taking control.
Citizens of North America will be given a year from this date to decide if they wish to assume Texan citizenship or continue to reside as lawfully registered aliens. All private property will be respected and an orderly transition of public records administered. All State and North American government properties such as courthouses and military installations, airports and parklands will be converted to Texan use.
Active members of the military are free to withdraw to North American territory with personal possessions or apply for Texas citizenship. Enlisting in the Texas services is open to any Texas citizen with the same requirements and credits as allowed for anyone with foreign military service.
Travel for recreational purposes is discouraged temporarily. Travelers can expect to be stopped and questioned and those intent on leaving the jurisdiction will have their vehicles prominently marked and a pass with their planned route issued. Parties of all males transiting in questionable directions, with weapons in excess of that needed for self defense can expect to be turned back or detained.
The Navigation of the Mississippi river channel will remain open to the passage of both North American and other nations’ vessels with the same rules of dockage and customs on our shore as any international port.
The new territory will retain the same parish and county structure, the same traditional names, and be collectively referred to as the Territory of Orleans during the transition period to full statehood.
Residents are urged to remain occupied with their usual business. Many of the banks and other services already have a legal presence in both countries and orderly transition should be possible. Both currencies will circulate during the transition. Prisoners with felony convictions will be forcibly repatriated to North America. Prisoners with non-violent convictions, and for things not considered a crime in Texas, may apply to have their records expunged to qualify for residency.
Foreigners on a travel or student visa are free to remain during the transition. Those on work permits and other visas must reapply to the new authority.
Diplomatic personnel and consular officials must present their proof of authority to this office anew.
To the vast majority of current residents this will mean better stability and local safety, simpler laws and lower taxes. We say to you: Welcome to Texas!
What jumped out at April was the lack of any concern about resistance. There were no warnings of dire consequences to resistance, and why the Secretary of State? Wasn’t this something important enough that the President of Texas should be announcing it? Was there any visible military buildup on either side of the border? April jotted down a couple of these questions and sent them to Chen.
* * *
It was a cloudy dark day in Brussels, darker for being late in the day, and the auditor examining the expenses for the joint Mars base was in a still darker mood. Things didn’t add up to make any sort of sense. Simon knew all sorts of patterns for the myriad ways people stole or defrauded. Sometimes they committed crimes to cover up accidents and incompetence instead of self enrichment. If the odd things he was seeing were happening on Earth he’d know exactly what the scam was.
There were too many items marked as damaged in transit or ruined beyond repair on site. If it was on Earth he’d figure things were being skimmed off to sell on the cash market or even sold as scrap. Thieves have no shame to sell a brand new roll of copper tubing for a fourth of its real worth as scrap. The scrap metal dealer he sold it to might have the connections to resell it as tubing, but that was too dangerous for a construction worker to do who didn’t have a regular fence. If you put it in an online marketplace or went to a flea market there always the random chance of someone from your employer happening upon it.
The trouble was, there was no cash market on Mars. There weren’t any other colonies, outposts, or any private enterprise or construction. Somebody might pilfer a roll of copper to make a still. That sort of diversion was expected and not worth pursuing. But an outpost of two hundred people wasn’t going to suddenly have a half-dozen illicit stills. It was going to some other use.
There were other inconsistencies. The Martians made their own fuel, and still had an excess of capacity to synthesize it. If you wanted to skim off and steal a bit of it then one might imagine nobody would know. There was limited access to the fuel for safety reasons, but nobody had to sign or pay for fuel. You might think it wasn’t tracked, other than seeing there was sufficient capacity, and tracking that the tankage was staying comfortably ahead of use.
But fuel usage showed up two other ways. The power system was smarter than that in any private residence. It was ahead of even a lot of industrial users who tracked electrical usage as a very important expense. The amount of power it took to create a liter of fuel varied little. But the numbers for power use didn’t track with reported production. Somebody was jiggering the system.
The equipment which used fuel, and the rovers in particular, were tracked for both hours at idle and kilometers driven. Not only for maintenance, but a sudden change in fuel economy could signal something going wrong, and a rover breakdown was not just an expense or an inconvenience, but could be a life threatening event.
On Earth, fuel consumption varied with season and weather. It was altered by occasional traffic jams even. On Mars the rovers were not as sensitive to seasonal temperatures. The air was so thin wind made resistance going east versus west inconsequential. There were still some variations, but they were predictable. If a route took a rover to a site at a higher altitude, then the trip back downhill was always proportional too. Loads varied more, but the AI integrating all these numbers knew what the loads were too.
That’s why his expert program was asking him to explain how things were happening like a rover suddenly getting better mileage climbing to a elevation with a heavy load and then worse mileage coming back downhill light.
The program wasn’t sophisticated enough to conclude the Martians were just sloppy liars unable to create a complex and consistent lie. As far as he knew there wasn’t an AI that smart yet. It took a human to perceive that, but it was still beyond him why they were doing it.
Jonus stopped outside his door and made a show of crossing his arms and leaning his head back to stare at Simon with a haughty air. It was all put on.
“You realize the Capital in People department will be watching you closer since they forced you to take a vacation. If you keep working past quitting time they will label you as elitist and trying to rise above your peers.”
“Somebody has to actually do the work. It took me longer to fix everything they screwed up than the time I was off.” Simon groused.
“People who won’t take time off are like huge warning flares to CiP that they are embezzling,” Jonus said, then looked thoughtful, “or, covering up for somebody else.”
“But… I’m the guy looking for embezzling and fraud,” Simon objected.
“You are one layer of the search,” Jonus corrected him. “It’s the old ‘Who will guard the guards?’ conundrum.”
“OK I’ll wait to finish busting their butts until tomorrow. They’ll still be there, but there’s something crooked going on in the Mars outpost, and I’m going to pick at the threads until I figure out what,” Simon vowed.
Jonus looked interested at that. “There’s something not quite right there in the hiring process too,” he revealed. “Why don’t we go have a beer and talk about it? If you take a later train home it won’t be as crazy and packed. Your cat can survive an extra hour without being fed.”
“He would claw your throat out if he knew you were saying that, but you’re right about the train. Twice last week, I couldn’t even get on the earlier train. It was packed standing room only and the doors closed before I could get on. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a new place I want to check out. It has local beer, and I want to check out other people’s food to see if it looks worth ordering.”
The beer was fine and the food too, once they had seen enough go by to decide what to order. They found so much to discuss Simon’s cat had to wait almost three hours, and was inconsolate.
* * *
A response note from Chen was expected and welcome. Sometimes, like now, it took a week for him to reply, but they didn’t make a habit of rushing him, aware there was a chain of inquiry to his sources and back. Nobody was sitting with their finger on a trigger waiting for a response or he’d have been told time was of the essence over detail and accuracy.
Again it was addressed to all three of them. Heather asked a couple questions about the differences between Texas law and North American law. Chen pointed out their laws had the same roots in English law. Texas, though of heavily Hispanic demographics had not reverted to the Mexican roots of Roman law it inherited from Spain. The biggest difference in Texas recovering ahead of North America was in abandoning tens of thousands of regulations rather than changing actual black letter law.
Jeff wanted to know about the physical capabilities of North America versus Texas. Basically, who would win if it came to war? The answer was they were so evenly matched now it would be devastating to both sides no matter who won. Satellite reconnaissance and commercial defense reports of each side’s equipment and positions were attached to back Chen’s evaluation.
North America might lose Quebec and the Maritime provinces in revolt if they were engaged elsewhere, Chen predicted. While Texas might lose the Mexican territory it had seized, most likely not back to Mexico, but to them seizing their own independence.
Chen replied to April’s questions that there was a limited mobilization to move peace keeping forces into Louisiana, but no indication of large numbers of ground forces and armor. He did expect to see them to move aircraft and support personnel to bases left behind. Chen speculated that the Secretary of State likely made the announcement for Texas because of personal animosity between the Texan President and the head of The Sons of Liberty. Hostilities would likely have erupted just because the announcement came from the President. The Sons’ leader had publicly poked at him, saying their elections were corrupt and predetermined. Then the Texan had responded sarcastically that at least they had elections. As far as April could see – her people didn’t have a dog in this fight.
* * *
On Earth, in the mountains of Northern California, Eileen sat back and observed the autumn party with a detachment that was calculating, and beyond her years. That was her personality. She suffered from being too smart, and had made a good start on learning to hide it. Fortunately there was no local school organized yet, and most of the others her age just thought she was socially dull. That was far easier to forgive than being smart.
Smart or dull, like most young people, Eileen didn’t dwell on the past and the difficult year she’d just survived. She was focused on the future more than the past, but even the future faded from consciousness in the face of a special party, when entertainments were now much fewer and further apart. She was dressed in nice store bought. It wasn't so long since The Day, when the grid went down and outside supply was vastly reduced, to mean that manufactured clothing was uncommon yet. Especially, nicer things were saved for special occasions.
The roads would probably be open again, local governments in control again, and commerce with other states and regions reestablished before they got all that rare. Some goods were already being brought in from the East at very high prices. But for right now, most of Northern California resembled the autonomous regions of Pakistan more than the situation prevailing in the Southern United States east of the Mississippi, where local control still prevailed, and commerce was still strong.
For right now however, there was an economy of scarcity, and the hand of government had lifted enough that nobody batted an eye at weapons worn to the celebration. Safety on the road here was uncertain since there wasn’t any law in the county. Neither were intoxicates absent, even though minors were present. Whether those minors partook was once again a family concern, although there was community involvement, since people felt free again to report what they saw the young people do to their parents.
The things Eileen wore she hadn't owned two years ago. That was true of most of the young people in the barn. Almost all of them grew too fast to be wearing what they owned two years ago, but fancy clothes were precious now, and nobody tossed anything store bought in the trash. They were traded when they no longer fit until they were worn out and had done duty as rags.
In contrast to the uniformity of such a gathering pre-Day, some of the young ladies, and a few of the young men dressed like it was three years ago and they were visiting a night club. But a few looked like they might be part of a wedding party or a christening, and one unfortunate young man looked like he belonged in a period movie about disco dancing. They did the best they could to look dressed up with limited resources.
That party clothes were precious didn't mean there was a great selection or prices were not tiered sharply. The quality of haircuts had also dropped precipitously, and makeup was rationed even more tightly than nice clothing. The pole building in which they were dancing wasn’t as warm as most would have liked. Some ended up putting their coats back on over their party clothes. There had already been a few light snows and even the warmth of a couple hundred bodies packed in the building couldn’t overcome the chill.
Eileen hadn’t attempted the very formal but impractical fashion in contrast to the others. She had on a pretty blouse with a cardigan over it, and jeans that weren't worn ragged or stained. Almost no one had saved a pair of jeans as good clothes. Jeans had reverted to being work wear again by default, and seeing a nice pair was unusual now. Eileen didn't bother with makeup and didn't need it. She had on ankle hiking boots worth more than a sequin dress, and her only real concession to formality were real diamond earrings and a gold chain. Most of her peers couldn't distinguish real jewelry from fake, but her elders did and noticed. She looked like she was prepared to go help in the kitchen if need be, or ride home on a horse, without ruining her outfit. Others weren’t so practical. Some had needed to change their outfits when they arrived rather than ruin them on the road. Winter hadn’t set in hard, but the season was wet and muddy even if it didn’t snow.
The young guys were awkward and dazzled by the girls who looked like they just stepped out of a TV screen or an old magazine to them. There was still satellite TV service and some working receivers owned by folks with their own power. A few had moved them to an outbuilding or garage and made a business of them. Popcorn would be planted for next year. The magazines were now wrinkled and dog-eared from renewed popularity. They weren't discarded after a read-through, since new were rare. They were traded until so ragged they were fire starting materials.
Several young men had been bright enough to ignore the flashier clothing and aggressive come-hither looks present, and see Eileen as a very worthy target of their attention. Eileen looked old enough, in the new social order of things, that they could offer her a cider or stronger drink. Several came up with a drink for her already in hand, overly confident of her acceptance.
Since such a favor seemed to be understood as a license to linger and talk, or even in a few cases stake some sort of claim for the evening, she declined several offers. Considering her worthy wasn't sufficient to guarantee she reciprocated. She was picky, and didn’t want to get attached early to someone who would preclude her from making a better match.
Victor Foy came by with a beer in his hand and nodded at her. Eileen nodded politely back. Then Vic looked to each side at her female companions, and scowled. "You mean to say there isn't a young buck here with the wits to bring you a drink?" he growled.
His manner didn't put Eileen off, it amused her. "Don't blame them. I had a few offers, but their demeanor suggested they thought they were setting claim markers around me. If you want to bring me something I'd welcome it." The girl on Eileen's right gasped in shock at her boldness, and she and Vic both looked at her, amused.
"Cider?" he asked, accepting the duty.
"That would be nice," Eileen said. "Dad started some apple trees, but it's still a treat for us."
"He's much too old for you," her appalled companion hissed, as soon as he departed. The other girl asked, "What's duh-meaner mean?"
Eileen wasn't giving vocabulary lessons today, but she answered the hisser.
"Now really, I know he's older, but I think he'll last long enough to return with a cider. He's hardly wobbling on a cane and ready to fall on his face any moment."
"You'd be safer if he was," the girl warned her. "He's entirely too spry, and I see how he looks at the young girls here."
"Yes, he gives a subtle glance instead of drooling with his mouth hanging open like the young fools," Eileen agreed. "On the whole, I'd rather see a little less desperation."
"You're hopeless," the girl concluded, and left to seek better company before it rubbed off. The other girl was afraid she's be confided in, or worse required to speak, so she followed after the other quickly.
"I hope you didn't chase your friends away for me," Vic said when he came back.
"They just happened to be by me. We aren't friends nor likely to ever be friends. Why would you think I'd chase them away?" She really wanted to know.
"Most of the young men are intimidated by a group of girls," Vic said, handing her the cider. "It's a strategic error really if the girls want to meet someone. They feel better having some company, but they don't realize they're intimidating the poor fellows."
"Shouldn't their mothers tell them how counter-productive that is?" Eileen asked him.
"It's a guy thing. I'm not sure most of the moms ever figured it out, and the fathers aren't going to share it, because most of them would be happy if their girls didn't notice that boys exist until they're about thirty or so."
"So, I'm getting the rarely revealed inside male scoop here?" Eileen asked.
"Yes, but I've played cards with you. You're bright enough to have eventually figured it out on your own. This is a fairly bright bunch," Vic said, waving his beer over the whole crowd inclusively.
"The attack on Vandenberg sorted out a lot of the stupid in California. This area now has about three times what the summer population ran, pre-Day. You had to be bright, prepared, or incredibly lucky to get out of the populated areas before the roads got jammed, the water stopped, and the fires started. But even sorted out from the herd, you have to remember half of them are still below average," Vic said, and smiled at his little joke.
"Which were you?" Eileen asked, very directly, and sipped her cider. It wasn't exactly hard, but it had just enough bite to be good without any fizz.
"I was smart enough to already be here, and not need to run."
"But not smart enough to be in Texas or Colorado," Eileen countered.
"I don't think that was predictable," Vic said. "The Spacers aren't random. They don't just drop bombs here and there for spite, no matter how the news painted them before. They haven't wiped Toronto or New York or Mexico City off the map. If they were really blood thirsty those would be no-brainers. I know L.A. was hurt, but they weren't shooting at L.A. Some of the damage was just because of piss poor local planning, and self inflicted.
"Southern California has always been on the knife edge of habitability and dependent on obsolete technology to stay viable. Nobody ever wanted to spend the money to make it safer. If I had to bet on it, Vandenberg being a military base, I'd guess some damn fool crossed a line, took a pot shot at them, and got slapped down. It could have been Dallas or Colorado Springs just as easily."
"You don't believe the Spacers are degenerate and evil?" Eileen asked.
"Degenerates tend to like their vices and comforts so they stay home. Spacers work and most live in a broom closet not a mansion. I wouldn't expect to find the libertine and slothful on the frontier, and that's the new frontier out there. Now, evil is harder to identify. That's a whole different big discussion right there."
"I'm interested in getting out there," Eileen told him. "I wanted that before The Day, in fact I've been pretty sure about it since I was eleven."
“News is kind of sketchy about what is happening out there. Things might be different by the time things are normal enough to travel to Florida much less off planet. You may have to change your plans a couple times,” Vic warned.
“I know it’s not going to happen in a year, maybe not ten. But that’s my long term goal. I take it as a good sign they aren’t talking about space much. That likely means nobody is fighting up there, or getting ready to.”
"Why are you telling me?" Vic asked. "I don't have a shuttle, and can't buy a ticket. I've never had enough cash even pre-Day to buy a ride up, unless I was willing to blow everything I had on a one time vacation. I never had the right sort of skills to think about staying and working up there."
"I'm telling you because you're interested in me. That was obvious from when you visited. I'm telling you plainly that I have goals. They might not be comfortable for you. I'm pretty sure my parents would think I'm crazy."
"Are you sure you want to have this conversation right now?" Vic asked, distressed. "I hadn't thought for it to happen for a year, more likely two."
"If you can plan ahead two years why can't I plan for five or ten?" Eileen asked. "Why waste a couple years waiting?"
“You can plan all you want. Plan twenty years ahead," Vic invited her. "We can talk, but your parents aren't going to accept me, or anyone else, formally courting you for at least another year. I think your father will hold out for two, until you are eighteen. They may give you grief for just talking to me.”
"Yes, he'd chase you off next year if you try to 'court' me, as you say. His head is stuck pre-Day. He may even have the courage to object to you for talking with me. But if I chase you what can he do?" Eileen asked with a smirk. "I don’t care. He can't lock me in the pantry and only let me out at dinner time. I don't know what I want to do, yet. But I'm considering all my options."
"Thanks for the warning," Vic said sincerely, rattled. "You don't see anyone else here worth cutting out of the herd and branding?" He seemed to feel the iron on his hide already.
"Not yet. But maybe you'd rather that nice little cow I had at my elbow? The one who run away all distressed that I'd take a cider from you? I'm sure she thinks I'm a terrible hussy. Half the folks here probably think you've talked to me much too long. That is, the above average half, bright enough to notice," she said, pointedly.
Vic turned his head and followed Eileen's eyes across the room where the girl had her head together with another whispering. He turned back, finished his last chug of beer and managed make his feeling clear with a disdainful, "Moooo . . ."

Chapter 2
Checking her messages, April was surprised to see one from Mssr. Broutin. That brought a flood of memories, mostly pleasant. It seemed so long ago she’d met him while staying overnight with Heather at her mother’s place. It was just a few years ago, but years crammed with a couple lifetimes of experiences.
She’d been scandalized back then when he’d come to breakfast and obviously had been Sylvia’s overnight guest. April supposed she was scandalizing a few people herself now. It was pretty hard not to. The Earthies were way beyond being merely scandalized by spacer behavior. Things nobody would blink at on Home would put you in jail now in North America.
Actions that were merely against custom just a few years ago were against black letter law now. They were back to wearing bathing suits on public beaches that covered neck to ankle by law. You couldn’t get served now in a nice restaurant, while wearing short sleeves, and April expected that to become a matter of law soon too. The mood in North America was definitely still trending to more restrictions, not loosening. Even the Europeans, who weren’t so far behind in that trend, made fun of it.
That pleasant breakfast with Broutin happened back when Home was just M3, and still in orbit around Earth. The possibility of a break with North America and the likelihood of blockade had been a topic of conversation at breakfast that morning. Broutin, speaking for a friend, was concerned whether some of Sylvia’s artwork commissions would be trapped undeliverable behind a blockade. April said plainly they could bypass a blockade, but wasn’t ever sure he believed her.
April had been fascinated with his formal Earth attire, and he’d made a gift of his cufflinks to her, making a coy reference to her starting a fashion revolution, but they knew he was really referencing a much different sort of revolution. He’d been right. She still wore the cufflinks and treasured them. They were high karat gold, delicately engraved, with a translucent enamel overlay.
Before April opened his message she checked the Earth web to see if Broutin was still in the French government. He was, and had been continuously since they met. If she were having breakfast with him today, like she had years ago, she’d have very different questions than last time. He should have an insider’s take about the real state of affairs between the European powers that she would trust more than the official accounts they put out.
Europe was almost as hostile to Home as North America. The Europeans just hid it better, under layers of senseless regulation and insincere expressions of regret, instead of rude aggression. The supposedly independent news outlets still blamed Home for the devastation of the last great flu epidemic. It had been repeated until the lie was stated as a given by their news agencies. The government agencies, that had to know better, never found reason to correct that disinformation campaign. One had to assume it served their purposes.
The European nations engaged in the same sort of dishonesty North America did, but claimed different motives. Where North Americans had gone so very prudish in public life on religious grounds the Europeans framed the same behavior on a secular political basis. April couldn’t see how it mattered why you felt it necessary to tell your fellow man how he must live in minute detail. The result was uniformly oppressive, no matter how you justified it.
The European Union was still prominent in the public eye, its symbols everywhere, still trying to promote unity its members didn’t even pay lip service to anymore. It wasn’t so much its regulations had been rescinded as ignored. The harsh reality was that the worst of the rules would drive a member state out of the union if vigorously enforced. The vast body of minor regulations seemed to do nothing but put a brake on business and entrench the current corporations in their positions without competition, due to special loopholes and grandfathering.
The average European thus over-paid for everything, and resented it, but not sufficiently to do anything about it. Perhaps the main objective of the Union had been worth it. The European states hadn’t had a serious war with each other in generations. Given how jammed together their member states were, and how much weapons had advanced, that was something to be avoided. A really serious war, involving more than small arms or light armor would be mutual suicide.
The old animosities between states and ethnic groups were still there and new ones layered on, but the experiment with open borders was long over, and European citizens had to have money and influence to move from state to state. Technically they were still free to go where they pleased, but in practice only if they were independently wealthy.
If the common people wished to work and live in a different jurisdiction they were suddenly subject to all sorts of quotas and qualifications about the number of truck drivers or janitors needed and who qualified for the local subsidies needed to afford desirable housing and food.
The thing about dishonestly ignoring unworkable rules and laws instead of actually changing them, was it bled down into everyday life. If everybody saw the large corporations and banks flaunting law the only reason for the little fellow to follow them was fear he wouldn’t be given a pass. So it only became a question of ‘Will I get caught?’ or ‘Is the bribe affordable?’ when examining what passed for ethics, and it got worse each generation.
That attitude alone was inhibiting business between Home and the Union. Home businesses expected to be treated with fairness beyond the letter of the law or contract by their suppliers and contractors. There weren’t enough customers to throw one away and figure some other sucker would be happy to do business with you. There was no army of lawyers looking for any advantage. The handful of lawyers on Home only advised their clients how to deal with Earth laws.
No Home businessman had actually visited either the European Union or North America since Home had moved out of Low Earth Orbit to beyond the Moon. Home businessmen didn’t regard those counties as safe, and they were right. As far as April knew nobody from Home had chanced it as a tourist. Home and lunar goods were expensive in Europe because of tariffs, but they didn’t let ideology overcome practicality too much. In North America spacer goods were even more expensive because they were officially embargoed and had to be smuggled in.
Australia and Asia, outside of China, reaped the benefits of being the first choices for off world goods without extra expenses. If you needed a cancer drug only made in microgravity the price difference could be life or death.
The public in Earth nations hostile to spacers were still fed a stream of propaganda that spacers were all wealthy selfish monsters intent on defrauding Earthies at every opportunity, rich beyond common avarice, and without morals. They allowed personal weapons, and beyond allowing bare arms, they would shamelessly show naked legs in public. That formed public opinion even if not one in ten thousand actually knew a spacer.
The Homies and Lunar citizens didn’t need a media campaign to conclude that Earth people were insane, welcomed their own oppression, and had no use for honesty or honor. The news channels managed to convince them of that without trying. Actually, most didn’t personally know any of the common Earth people any more than the Earthies knew them.
In honesty, very few spacers appreciated the difficulty Earthies faced in resisting an entrenched corrupt system. One didn’t just charge into the streets and announce the revolution unless you were a fool. Given the human tendency to see everything in strictly black or white, it was easy for each side to ignore anyone who didn’t fit their vision.
Given such a divide, it was not just a meaningless detail that Broutin’s message had been sent from the French space station, unofficially named The Turnip due to its unfortunate similarity to that vegetable in shape. It said that he as a French official didn’t want to entrust the privacy of his message to Earth networks. April had no idea what he wanted to talk about after all this time, but she suspected he wasn’t going to ask for his cufflinks back. April read his message with all those factors in mind.
Dear April,
I intend to visit Home in about a week and lay-over for several days to familiarize myself with the changes that have occurred since my last visit and speak with various business owners, before going on to both the lunar state of Marseille and Central. If you could find time for us to renew our acquaintance and enjoy a meal together I’d enjoy your company again.
Your friend and admirer, Mssr. Broutin, Foreign Minister of France
For all its superficial simplicity it was still a very mixed message. April had requested he address her informally, long ago, yet after doing so he’d signed as a French official. She wasn’t thirteen going on fourteen anymore. It wouldn’t have been remiss to either speak to her more formally now, or sign as a private citizen. Who was visiting and on what business, her friend and admirer, or the Foreign Minister? She wasn’t sure they could be one and the same.
She didn’t really want to entertain the Foreign Minister, so April decided to just ignore that and respond like an old friend. But she’d address him by his given name to tell him the playing field was, if not exactly level, less tilted than before. The reply went to the Turnip address. She didn’t have another right now, and it seemed petty to force him to receive her reply at some official addy she’d have to look up on the very net he seemed to be avoiding.
Dear Pierre,
I’d be delighted to entertain you next week. My schedule is pretty much my own at the moment with few time-specific obligations. I’m listed on local public com so contact me when you are on Home. A shared meal again would be a pleasure. I have a favorite place to take you if you’d like. I’d love to hear your opinions on current European affairs, and would be happy to speak of Home. As for your destination of Central, I’d remind you the Sovereign Heather was the daughter of Sylvia, at whose home we shared breakfast so long ago. We are still fast friends and I am her peer and occasional Voice. I might get away to Central for a bit if you’d like a ride and to catch up on lunar gossip too.
Your friend, Lady Lewis
There, that seemed the right tone. Was the Lady Lewis layering it on too thick? Probably not, two could play at mixed signals. April sent it.
If Broutin was going on to Central then Heather definitely needed a heads up. If he hadn’t told Heather he was coming, surely he’d realize April would mention it, wouldn’t he? Heather, Jeff and April had partnered when Broutin was visiting Sylvia and their relationship had been discussed at breakfast. It was even more a matter of public partnership now than then, or notorious depending on your view. Surely he knew that. April couldn’t imagine he had any business with underlings. Heather as Sovereign didn’t delegate important matters. Neither would he have anything to discuss at Marseille with merchants and businessmen. He was after all the Foreign Minister, not someone with the Ministry of Commerce. She wondered if he’d visit with Sylvia again. Heather’s mother was, if not fabulously wealthy, at least comfortable and very active in politics from long before April and her daughter decided to dabble in revolution together. Sylvia had and still played her cards very close to her breast, seeming to influence things from outside the public eye with a skill April frankly admired.
Voting on Home was not by secret ballot. Mr. Muños, the Registrar of Voters, took the vote, conducting elections in public and real-time. The votes were linked to local net accounts, and tallied instantaneously. If you wanted to vote on Home, you not only had to voluntarily accept taxation, you also had to have the courage of your convictions to attach your vote to your com address in a searchable data base.
Not that it was without problems. Friendships had eroded over differences in opinion. One shopkeeper fired an employee for voting contrary to what she considered her interests, and been challenged to a duel. It was their first female on female challenge.
When she refused to meet or issue a retraction, station security physically carried the shopkeeper to dock and stuffed her on a shuttle departing for ISSII. She was so stubborn she was expelled without as much as a change of clothing, because she refused the opportunity to pack a bag.
The video of her being carried by her arms and legs down the public corridor, while she loudly proclaimed that they couldn’t do that to her, was one of those unfortunate incidents that played on the Earth news for a week.
April had no doubt the majority of voters never bothered to search for the voting history on any one specific proposal. Very few issues roused passions sufficiently to make the majority of voters cast a ballot on them. Fewer yet were close or of such interest that late voters came in at the end to keep the vote actively open and try to nudge it over the line in their favor. April however, did compile her own data base of voters who voted the same as Sylvia. There was a definite pattern there, but you had to know the people to know who was influenced, in contrast to who originated the ideas.
That others could do the same to her, and her partners Heather and Jeff, was something of which April was always aware. On some questions put to the Assembly it was clear which way she would vote. As a ship owner she had obvious interests to protect. On other matters, things that bordered on custom and taste, April’s record could be difficult to understand.
The three of them often abstained on voting for things they found personally appealing, simply because they didn’t think it good to keep making the body of declared law larger and more detailed. Custom and the danger of provoking others into challenging one to a duel inhibited all sorts of bad behavior. Both custom and challenge tended to be examined more carefully for reasonableness, on a case by case basis, and were much easier to change when they became obsolete than a written statute.
What April had no idea about, was whether Mssr. Broutin or his government ever analyzed the public record of voting patterns to understand who had influence and how far it extended. There was no way she’d ever inquire and give them the idea to do so if they hadn’t thought of it on their own.

* * *
Mssr. Pierre Broutin lifted on a commercial ship of the French Republic already scheduled to visit their space station. There was rarely an empty seat. As a high government official Broutin could assert influence to bump a lower ranking official, or a low ranking military officer on standby, without much trouble.
World lift capacity had never recovered from Home’s war with North America, because North America still had internal problems. China, the other economy big enough to fill the gap, was a mess internally once again. Other places had their own brakes on space investment, due to their antagonism with the space powers. How could the nations that closed their banking system to them or imposed one sided tariffs ever normalize relations?
After a flight to the Turnip he took commercial transport to ISSII, to catch a connection on a Larkin’s Line shuttle to Home, though with more difficulty than planned.
At the ISSII passenger dock the screen on the automated ticket kiosk for Larkin’s Line would take Solars, Australian dollars, Mitsubishi pay vouchers, Myanmar Kyat, Kingdom of Central vouchers, Marseille Lunar Script, and Dear God, even Tongan Pa’anga, but no EuroMarks. Neither, he noted, were North American or Chinese currencies welcome. The conversion rates that the ticket prices posted implied for the other currencies made him wonder if he’d drawn a large enough advance. There wasn’t an official exchange rate to consult, and he was unaware some sites on the Home net published unofficial rates daily.
Perhaps he should have arranged his itinerary in reverse. Certainly Marseille had to be more receptive to EuroMarks, because they still had business ties to France. But the sheer in your face reality of his rejection his money made him wonder how stable that arrangement was, and if Marseille would soon be an outlier with its neighbors. Marseille might not be able to continue to trade with its neighbors using EuroMarks, and that could drive them away from France. That was something he might discuss with Joel when he returned home. He had reasons to follow the order in which he planned his travel, but it wasn’t convenient.
Pierre found there was no bank at ISSII that would convert his EuroMarks to Solars. ISSII was jointly owned and run by Earth governments, so it was closed to Home or Central Banks. There were two joint USNA –European banks, an Indian bank and a Russian bank. In the abstract he understood the reasoning for withholding banking privileges. As a traveler who couldn’t buy a ticket for a LEO to Home shuttle with his bank card it was irritating and suddenly seemed petty.
The BNP bank all but called security to give him the bum’s rush. He skipped the other European bank and went to the Indians. That fellow made it clear there was nothing to talk about unless he first wanted to open accounts with them. The Russian Bank at least didn’t treat him like a criminal. The teller referred him to a manager who was politely sympathetic, but also refused him.
“You might go spinward a quarter turn and inquire at Jason’s,” he suggested.
“Jason’s?” Broutin asked. If there was a bank of Jason he’d never heard of it, and he didn’t want to ask and look foolish. The Russian just nodded yes without laughing, so it might not be a joke.
“Which way is spinward?” Broutin asked. That did get a smile.
“Turn left as you exit,” the Russian said, definitely struggling to keep a straight face. “Heavy,” he said cryptically after Pierre had turned.
The sign declared, Jason’s Sundries and Sweets, in English, with an ice cream cone leaning away from the fancy script on each side. Below it said, Party Goods, Liquors, Hand-Made Chocolates, Cards for all Occasions, Holiday Decorations, Lottery Tickets, Footies and Gloves, Pawn and Loan, Checks Cashed, Money Orders, Coins and Tokens, Travel Vouchers Bought and Sold.
The establishment was brightly lit, completely open across the entire front, and done up in garish pink and red colors. The open nature of the store surprised Pierre. He’d grown accustomed to tunnel like entries on small stores to restrict entry, as well as to hold sensors to watch for weapons coming in and stolen merchandise going out. Jason must not have any significant problem with shoplifters. It seemed unlikely from appearances, but the sign did hold hope of some financial services.
The fellow behind the counter seemed unlikely. He had a bit of a belly when almost nobody with access to medical care ran overweight. Pierre also had difficulty estimating at a glance how old the man was or even a hint of his ethnic origins. He was short, with either olive skin or he deliberately tanned himself, another custom almost entirely gone now. His hair was entirely too light to match his complexion and he had enormous ears most people would have reduced with cosmetic surgery. His name tag said Jason, but gave no clue if he was the Jason for who the store was named. He was dressed… oddly. He nodded hello but pecked at a terminal behind the counter like he was wrapping something up.
Jason examined Pierre with an eagerness that matched Pierre’s inspection of him, once he turned his full attention away from the terminal. He looked so pleased to see Pierre that for the first time he regretted dressing up to travel. He hadn’t considered that an affluent appearance might hamper his ability to negotiate terms of a financial transaction. Most of the time dressing well led to a degree of deference and better treatment. Jason however was regarding him like a prize steer that would soon be select cuts of beef.
“Good day,” Pierre said, and tried to keep a pleasant face and made an attempt at humor. “Are you the Jason of fame, heralded by your establishment’s signage?”
“I wouldn’t hire another Jason,” the fellow said bluntly. “If one wanted to hire on I suppose I might, if he let me call him George. Life’s perplexing enough without feeling like I’ve slipped into speaking in the third person every day. Fortunately there’s little enough to distract me on ISSII to make it a burden to keep the doors open without help. It’s like a very quiet little town.”
“Indeed, I noticed the lack of a crowd in the corridor,” Pierre agreed.
“Been that way since the war, and it’s been slow to come back all the way. But I figure in another five years, maybe six years it’ll be hopping again.”
Pierre nodded politely. He’d really like to know why the fellow thought so, but he’d leave it for another time rather than neglect his business.
“I wonder, if you might do currency exchanges among your services? I find the shuttle service I wish to take to Home doesn’t take EuroMarks. I’d like something they take, preferably Solars to facilitate other payments when I reach Home or beyond.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bucket of them myself,” Jason allowed. “But for most transactions they’re a bit unwieldy. A full Solar is twenty five grams of gold or platinum. Most folks use the smaller coins and bits or a credit card that can shave transactions down to the milligram.”
“What would you suggest? I have EuroMark credit, banknotes, and a small amount of Suisse Credit bars. What would be easiest?”
“Not that I don’t want the business, but I’m too little a fish to risk handling a large sum of EuroMarks with currency fluctuations being what they are. EMs are depreciating assets anyway. Now, I’d take your gold if you were staying here, but the banks on Home will give you a much better conversion rate, and I’d rather you not be pissed off at me and tell everybody to avoid the scoundrel on ISSII after you found that out. I know the exchange rate looks bad but go back to the Russians and tell them you want to convert your EuroMarks to Australian dollars - they’ll do that. The gold, it don’t matter, it’s not going to fluctuate in value very much. If you finish up your business and want to take any of it back to France you can’t take it as Solars and you’d have to pay for a second exchange.”
“I never said I was French, nor did I mention speaking with the Russians.”
“I hear your vowels and can place your province if not your town under that fancy Parisian accent. It’s five hundred and twenty of my steps from here to the bank and Peter called and told me you were on your way. As I said, it’s like a small town here. If you sneeze on the way to work by lunch time word has gone around and friends are asking if you are alright.”
“Then I wonder why he didn’t he suggest another currency?” Pierre asked.
“Did you ask him like you did me?” Jason asked back.
“No, I just asked if he could convert EuroMarks to Solars.” Pierre admitted.
“Peters not one to volunteer much,” Jason said. “I’d bet you didn’t mention you were going to Home either, or he’d have told me that too.”
When Pierre looked chagrined Jason made a dismissive motion.
“You’re fresh off the shuttle from Earth. If I had to go back to visit the Slumball I’d have to be constantly reminding myself not to reveal anything I didn’t absolutely need to, especially not to lawyers or bankers.”
The slur came so easily and without apology from someone being friendly and helpful that it jolted him twice as badly. Pierre managed to nod if not in strict agreement at least in understanding.
“I failed to record the prices in the various currencies,” Pierre said, irritated with himself for the lapse. “I should have grabbed a photo of the screen.”
“No problem. The Larkin Line has a site on the local net and keeps their schedule updated,” Jason said, consulting his terminal. “The next flight leaves in two hours and eleven minutes. They usually don’t board until ten or fifteen minutes before. One-way is seventeen thousand three hundred Australian dollars. That’s a small enough amount I’ll buy it right off the site for you if you want, and you won’t have to bother with the bank or the kiosk. You can convert the bulk of it on Home. I’ll want twenty eight thousand EuroMarks with a two day lead on the depreciation of whatever date notes you are carrying. Should I book it?” he asked, hand held back from hitting enter.
“Please. I’d appreciate that,” Pierre said, getting his money out.
Jason entered the transaction, reached under the counter, and got a quarter page printout. They didn’t waste a full sheet of paper if not needed, as expensive as paper was. It had a flight number and time, but no name when Pierre examined it, before counting his money out.
“They don’t demand your identity to buy a ticket?” Pierre asked, surprised. “The last time I visited Home I had to be cleared by security to board a shuttle.”
“It must have been before the war, right?” Jason asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact it was.” Pierre confirmed.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jason advised him. “I knew you were Pierre Broutin, the current Foreign Minister of France, before you made it from the street to my counter. You’re a public figure. I’m sure Home security has better software and database access than me. But when they check you in if you tell them you are Tom Smith they will say, “Have a nice visit, Mr. Smith.”
“I see. That’s going to take some getting used to for me. Facial recognition software is illegal for private parties in France.”
“It is in most of the interest sections here too,” Jason said. “This is a common area though, so we just go by the station master’s rules.” He watched Pierre count the bills out and scooped them up without needing a second count.
A young boy of ten or so stepped around Pierre and Jason handed him the money. He turned and left jogging quickly. If he started from the bank when Jason bought the ticket he must have ran.
At Pierre’s surprised look, Jason explained. “That’s the son of the Russian banker you spoke to. He’ll run it back to his dad. I have an account with them and he’ll wire the money to a Swiss bank that can credit their account by the serial numbers. The clock is ticking on their devaluation so they’ll want it credited before the day ends. He’ll deface the notes and they go down later on the next shuttle, but that’s just bookkeeping so they don’t get used again.”
“I was simply surprised to see a child working,” Pierre said.
Jason frowned momentarily and fumbled around below the counter.
“Here, I wasn’t thinking. You need some pocket money until you get to Home.” He laid a couple hundred dollars Australian on the counter and four small cards.
“Whatever for?” Pierre asked, not too eager to snatch it up.
“It’s a long flight. You might want a coffee or a sandwich. No charge,” he added, with a dismissive gesture. “Consider it a deal sweetener.”
“Thank you,” Pierre said. “That’s kind of you.”

Chapter 3
Larkin’s shuttle was surprisingly comfortable. There were only twelve seats. That seemed small to Pierre. No wonder the ticket was so dear. Airliners carried twenty times as many to spread the cost of a flight over many tickets. Even hypersonics seated three times as many.
It looked subtly different than Earth made shuttles. The acceleration couch for example looked to Pierre very much like the sort of plastic dipped wire cloth that was used to make garden furniture. When he actually sat on it however, it was much more yielding, and felt very much like upholstered cushions would.
The colors and textures of everything seemed off. Things were gray where he expected beige and rough where he expected a barely matte finish. Of course Larkin’s company colors and uniforms were all shades of gray.
He was offered lunar data access for no additional charge, a few simple games, free music or a feed of the flight crew working. He picked the music and leaned back closing his eyes. The acceleration wasn’t heavy, but it lasted much longer than he expected. Pierre had no knowledge of orbital mechanics to realize fourteen hours was a very fast trip to reach Home and would have taken days with only older chemical rockets.
It was still a long flight by Earth standards, almost as long as the cheapest subsonic flights took to go halfway around the globe. Plenty of people still picked those long slow flights over the more expensive hypersonics because they were a fifth of the cost. The faster mode of travel was still too dear for the vast majority of mankind.
Pierre didn’t have any problems adjusting to a different time zone. He was only running an hour ahead of Zulu time at home. He closed the privacy shell around his seat once acceleration ended. Zero G didn’t make him nauseous like some people, but he still set the restraints snug so he didn’t dream of falling, and napped for a little. It wasn’t his night yet but traveling was stressful, especially when you weren’t accorded the extra attention and respect a dignitary grows used to receiving in his own land.
After his nap Pierre used the toilet at the back of the cabin. It was more spacious than he expected. There was an automated serving station on the other side of the cabin at the rear. He might try that later. He left his privacy screen open upon returning so he could observe his fellow passengers.
A very fit looking young man with some unusual tattoos went forward. Pierre wondered if he was going ask admittance or to try to talk to the crew, there was an intercom by the hatch, so he watched with interest.
Instead he pulled some foot straps out of the forward bulkhead and turned down some handgrips that folded into the surface flush. Pierre hadn’t even noticed them, but it turned out it was a built in exercise machine. The handgrips were attached to cables. After a few pulls the fellow stopped and adjusted something by the grips. You could tell the next few pulls took much greater effort.
The fellows lips were moving and Pierre couldn’t hear anything, but figured out he was counting off repetitions. After awhile he turned around with his back to the bulkhead and used them in a different configuration. That was a new thing to Pierre but ingenious he had to admit.
Pierre got out the cards Jason gave him with his Australian dollars. He hadn’t examined the gift or asked about them for fear of appearing ignorant.
The paper was a hard bright finish, a fold over business card but a little stiffer. The front had a sun logo and The System Trade Bank – Home. Inside the ☼ logo was repeated and it declared the card one bit. The terms for redemption were detailed to be in lots of a hundred at any branch of The System Trade Bank or the Private Bank of Home. There was no serial number or signature, but there was a holographic sticker with the sun symbol repeated and the warning: Void if removed. Pierre was tempted to waste one just to see what was under it.
Pierre tried to contact Sylvia again via the lunar net and got the same ‘Away on vacation - no forwarding.’ message. It amazed him that Sylvia wasn’t afraid to post such a message. On Earth it would have been an invitation for criminals to burgle your home in your absence unless you had a walled estate with resident security. He had a Holiday Inn reservation, but had hoped to cancel it if Sylvia offered her hospitality again. He’d kept in touch with her and offered the hospitality of his own home in France several times, She was always polite and friendly, but never accepted. At least she had never referred to Earth as the Slumball in refusing, but he was starting to suspect that was the root problem.
Since it looked certain he’d be at the Holiday Inn, he sent a text message to Miss Lewis informing her he was in transit and would be on Home quite early on the following day and would sleep some, on top of what he could sleep on the shuttle, before being available to visit at her convenience the next day or later. If she put him off he’d play the tourist a bit. There had to be significant changes since he’d been to Home.
The machine at the back seemed worth investigating. Perhaps it could make a decent cup of coffee. Assuming it would take his money. He’d already seen one passenger go back and return with a drink of some sort. There was nobody using it so he went. There was a touch screen menu with a branching map that expanded where you touched. It didn’t try to lead you or suggest additions. That was a pleasant change.
Food he ignored for now. Drinks were hot or cold. Hot was coffee, tea and chocolate. Coffee was light roast or dark with choices of cream, sugar, chocolate, vanilla or hazelnut flavorings. You could specify exactly how hot you wanted it. Surprisingly you could get a shot of whisky or brandy in it. How could they prevent the machine serving minors? Pierre wondered.
Picking dark roast with cream switched the screen to payment. They were the same choices as the ticket kiosk, via a bill slot or a card reader. A six hundred milliliter coffee would be thirty dollars Australian or one bit. The screen noted no change would be made. Pierre had several twenty dollar bills Australian, but no tens. He wasn’t really sure of the exchange rates and didn’t want to go research it for a cup of coffee.
Pierre was chagrined to find he was experiencing a real life example of Gresham’s law. His natural inclination was to use the Australian dollars and keep the bits redeemable in gold. He feed two twenty dollar bills into the slot and received a thank you – dispensing screen.
The cup was different than the last time he’d been in orbit. It had a valve just inside the straw and didn’t dribble and leak at all. Everything seemed to get better by small incremental improvements. The coffee was nothing he could complain about either. For forty dollars it should be good.
* * *
April was glad Mssr. Broutin didn’t seem to be in a rush to get together early in the morning. She loved to have breakfast with friends, but not at what she’d heard Earthies call the ‘crack of dawn’ early. On vacation in the tropics the morning had seemed abrupt if not to the point of being audible. If she needed to set an alarm she wanted it to ease the light on, and gently ramp up some music, instead of jolt her awake.
Neither was April certain Broutin was still as friendly as he’d been at Sylvia’s. That was a long time ago and a lot had happened and changed in her life. She assumed he’d also been busy since he was still active in the French government service. He and his attitudes might have changed. It was actually a bit unusual, she reflected, for her to be on good terms with any Earthie government official. She’d try to stay neutral and expect the best.
After checking with Detweiler, the maitre d’ at the Fox and Hare she made a tentative reservation for 1900, and asked Pierre to confirm that was acceptable. She thought she could do him one other small kindness, and sent Eric Pennington a text on com.
“Eric, I have an old acquaintance, Pierre Broutin, coming to visit from France. He should be checked into the Holiday Inn after the Larkin shuttle comes in. Are you available to act as a guide to show him whatever he wants and explain anything unfamiliar about Home to an Earthie? He’s been here before, but a long time ago, when M3 was under North American law and in Low Earth Orbit. We expect to have dinner together later in the evening but I have to confirm that with him. Your duty would end upon delivering him to our dinner meeting.”
“Thank you for the opportunity,” Eric replied. “I have lessons scheduled, but can move them forward for an educational opportunity. I accept and will leave word with the front desk at the Holiday Inn that I am available to him. I have two questions, please. Does the gentleman speak English or any other language than French? If he puts questions to me that are not general, but about you specifically what is your relationship and how should I answer?”
“The fellow is fluent in English. I have no idea if he speaks other languages.” April stopped and thought about the second question before typing. It was tempting to tell Eric that he was free to say anything he knew about her, but April remembered how much she knew of the private and unseen side of people’s lives when she was Eric’s age. He had a network of lesser minions running a courier service and food delivery for him. They might pass on things they saw too. She would certainly use them that way herself. He was smart. It might be easy and dangerous to underestimate him, and he might take such a flippant release as an insult to his abilities. Better to overestimate his perception and resources than the reverse.
“You are welcome to discuss anything about me you know to be public knowledge with Mssr. Broutin. I once offered to do business with the man, but the opportunity never materialized. He’s a French official and his visit may be business or political. It’s even remotely possible it is simply personal. He hasn’t made his purpose clear. He does know others on Home. I will trust to your discretion as my employee. Bill me what it is worth to you after you are done.”
Eric sucked in a deep breath of apprehension when he read that. It didn’t seem a trap to him, April wouldn’t set him up, but it was a dangerous license. Both April and Jeff spoke to him like an adult. Jeff in particular expected him to be able to do what he said he could do, right and on time. It was a matter of pride not to fail him. But this took it to a different level. He’d done so much courier work for them and for Heather when she was visiting from the Moon. He knew who visited them, who they were close enough with to invite to dinner, including important people like Jon or Mr. Muños. He was aware of who they did business with to need parts or packages delivered back and forth both ways. Eric even knew the details of very personal things like who sent flowers or candy to them or their guests. He was pretty sure a lot of those things were not public knowledge. Certainly, even if single items were innocent, the sum of them all wasn’t anything to reveal. He’d better be very careful to know where that line was because he wanted to stay on their good side. Better that he convey any tales the other way, and report on Broutin to April, Eric decided.
* * *
“Hello neighbor,” Diana said from the screen. She had a devilish look that worried April. Her sense of humor was… well developed. Diana was her literal next door neighbor back in Hawaii, if the current revolution didn’t seize their properties. She’d been April’s house guest for a few days on Home, and then when she met Heather’s mom, Sylvia, she’d been invited to use Barak’s old room. April wasn’t sure what Diana’s relationship was to anyone. It was confusing.
“You’re back on Home,” April noted after double checking the net icon. She was pretty sure those tomato plants behind Diana were Sylvia’s window garden.
“Yes, and Sylvia too, we had fun on New Las Vegas and I wanted you to know we’re back. I’m returning your bodyguard, and he still has some tread on the tires. That place is a hoot. It’s been years since I’ve been to the original in Nevada. It was toned down quite a bit already because of the government prudes, and the business from the coast is gone now, since you bombarded the snot out of California. I hear it’s pretty much a ghost town now.”
“Don’t take that as criticism,” Diana said, at her hurt look. “I know they shot first. I remember all the video you showed me. I spoke with some friends of Nick on New Las Vegas and got encouraging news. They said the crazier elements of the rebellion have been kept from nationalizing everything and trying to kick out anyone without Hawaiian ancestry.”
“They’d have incited a new rebellion,” April predicted. “How many pure blooded Hawaiians remain? I’d be surprised if they could find ten thousand who could prove it, and they’re going to give everybody else the boot?”
Diana got a sour look. “Even if they wanted to do DNA testing I doubt they could sort them from the Tongans and Samoans. They knocked that idea down and a few other pieces of radical stupidity. They had a group demanding all the hotels along Waikiki be torn down as they grow old and worn and the appearance of the area restored to nature. They had to be content with new zoning that will make replacements fewer, smaller, and more aesthetic, with public corridors in between, and restored public access to the beaches.
“The North Americans have announced they are withdrawing their military as a cost cutting measure. The Hawaiians put up a fence and refused to allow services and deliveries for the bases, or liberty off base. They would have had to supply everything by air or ship like it was an uninhabited island. They already have enough problems with Texas to think about taking the island back by force. They’d need more than a hundred and fifty marines to do it this time.
“The other good news is, it looks like we not only get to keep our houses, but there’s hope they may rationalize the property taxes down to something sane.”
“Why would Nick’s friends be on New Las Vegas?” April asked, happy to hear about her house, but more concerned about what Diana was up to, being chummy with revolutionaries. That bland innocent look didn’t fool her. She didn’t just happen to bump into them. “Don’t you mean his co-conspirators? Not just social friends.”
“They intend to allow casinos for the first time in Hawaii, at least a limited number on the big island, to suck in some tourist money,” Diana said. “They are looking to target both Australian and Asian tourists. They will have a lot in common with the folks at NLV. They were studying them and hiring away some expertise.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t go check out Camelot. Jeff has been trying steadily to diversify, but their casino has been the backbone of their economy since the Chinese pulled out. It caters to high-rolling Chinese too. Even Heather hasn’t shut it down, and it’s under her sovereignty. She’s personally death on obsessive gamblers, and all the troubles they create, if you get to know her.” April scrunched up her eyebrows thinking, and frowned.
“And NLV is under North American law, so I’m even more surprised those rebels would risk visiting their jurisdiction. I assume they lifted from someplace else, but still. There might be arrest warrants out for them.”
“Things have changed at NLV,” Diana assured her. “There are only three resident North American officials. All the physical security and entry control is contracted out to private security now. Only one North American is technically law enforcement, but he isn’t hands on with the day to day and just rubber stamps what the casinos agree to. The other two are revenue bean counters, and supposedly they could order the other guy to arrest anybody they accused of withholding taxes. So right now the security guys aren’t interested in keeping anybody out based on their politics. If you’ve got money to bet you’re welcome.
“North America’s only interest in New Las Vegas right now seems to be skimming off whatever easy cut of the winnings are theirs. They don’t withhold for non-citizens, so that’s dried up to almost nothing. There’s no government money coming in the hab, just taxes out. The currency controls and bank regulations aren’t good for business, and nobody wants to do business in USNA dollars. They may just go the way of the Hawaiians,” Diana predicted.
April looked alarmed. “You’re going to make them think we’re exporting revolution!”
“No, no, no… maybe the Hawaiians are exporting a little, but I’m not even a Home citizen. Come to that… I haven’t declared I’m a Hawaiian citizen either. If I have a few friends from Home, that’s my concern. Gunny dropped a few USNA dollars he had laying around losing value at the tables, and Sylvia played a bit too. I know you keep things pretty close to your breast, Kido,” Diana said, holding her hands in close like she had a hand of cards, “and you seem to have sources. So it might not surprise you to know Eduardo went ahead to get things set up, and we joined him for a little vacation.”
“Muños?” April asked. That did surprise her and she couldn’t keep a poker face. All her ‘sources’ had failed to tell her he’d gone off to New Las Vegas. He hardly ever left Home. She knew Diana had gone out with both Gunny and Eduardo. Silly her, she’d worried that might drive a wedge between Diana and Sylvia, because she’d seen Sylvia with Eduardo too, a few times at the Fox and Hare, and she liked both of them. She was holding her breath worried Sylvia would give Diana the boot if she horned in on Eduardo. Finally the obvious hit April between the eyes like a mule kick.
“Yeah,” Diana went on, seemingly oblivious to the fact April hadn’t had a clue before, “we all get along just fine,” Diana said, meshing her fingers together to show how well. “So we all got a big suite together at the SpaceX place, The Aurum Orbit. It had a hot tub that was damn near big enough to do laps, and it was at a half G like your place. I really like that, because you uh, sleep so well.”
“Sounds delightful but expensive,” April said, composed again.
“Honey, Eduardo pulled the same thing you did at your nightclub. He’s an owner and they all hopped to as soon as we came in and treated us like royalty. It was all comped to us before we ever played.”
April had no idea before what sort of business Eduardo dabbled in. She was learning all sorts of things today. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. You do buy the round-trip ticket I hope, in case the house prevails?” she joked.
“None of us are obsessive like your sweetie Heather worries about. Gunny lost the most and that was just a few dollars North American he didn’t want to keep holding anyway. You might as well lose Monopoly money. The fun thing was Sylvia. She was supposedly there for unveiling one of those huge glass panels she does. They put it up a ways inside the main entry so traffic has to flow around it. Eduardo was there but three other guys running the casino were there too, all dressed up and making an event of it. The camera crew arranged everybody to each side facing the camera, real dramatic like, but with a clear shot of the panel when the cloth dropped away.
“Everybody shook hands all around and they had a couple servers pouring champagne off to the side to cap it off, but first the CFO had a flunky standing to the side with a velvet chip tray. Instead of chips it had twenty Solars laid in a chip groove and he made show of presenting her fee to Sylvia. I don’t think she wanted it to be so public what they paid her to sculpt it. She looked a bit put out at them doing that, so she didn’t take the tray or scoop up the coins. She just picked up the end one, balanced it on her thumb like she was going to flip it in the air, and asked him, “Double or nothing?”
April couldn’t help but smile. She well knew the exact challenging tone Sylvia would take if she were irritated.
“That fellow might work for a gambling house, but he was no sport himself,” Diana said. “He looked like his knees were going to give out to take a straight up twenty Solar bet with no house odds working for them. He declined with an awkward refusal. He stuttered, and didn’t even look at his partners to see if they were game. That’s the kind of story people will tell years later, and it won’t ever serve him well to have it remembered.”
“Except a few bean counters who will nod solemnly in agreement,” April said.
“Lord yes, they are all of a kind aren’t they?” Diana agreed. “Eduardo just smiled. He might have gone for it. With the newsies standing right there, with the camera running, it would have been worth it as advertising even if she won.”
“If things back home are stable, do you think you’ll be going back to Hawaii?” April wondered.
“Not yet,” Diana said, with a dismissive wave. “I just consider what Nick told me an insider’s progress report. It’s not a done deal and I want to see some solid public statements and published policies before I’d go back for any stretch of time. Besides, I’m still having fun here, and I haven’t gone to the Moon. I absolutely want to do that soon, for sure before I go back to Hawaii.”
April nodded. “I may be there in a few days if you go. I might see you. I have an old acquaintance visiting, who I met at Sylvia’s years ago. I’m going to take him to the club tonight and when he goes on to the Moon I may go along. I’m surprised you haven’t heard from him, being with Sylvia. I’d have thought he’d want to visit her too.
“I’m glad to hear that about Hawaii. I’d like to feel free to visit my house for a few weeks,” April said. “I’ve never had a chance to take Jeff or Heather there and there are all sorts of things on the island I never got to see.”
Diana nodded. “It’s a vacation home to you. Mine might become that to me if I ever buy a place of my own here. However, anything bigger than a broom closet is just so expensive that I don’t see it happening. Not unless I start buying lotto tickets and hit the big one.”
“I’d think you’d do better to sell them,” April quipped, with a smile.
Diana’s mouth dropped open and she stared goggled eyed at April for a good ten seconds before she snapped it shut. “It’s like when your buddy Zack rented me the pistol! There’s no law against it, is there?”
“Indeed, there is no law against almost anything you want to do,” April agreed. “Just don’t forget to give me a cut for the idea. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Done!” Diana agreed. “Your beau Jeffery said he gives that kid, Eric a half percent for the bit idea. I’ll go one better and give you a full percent. I don’t want to be seen as cheap. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, but I have to say, it’s probably as hard as starting any other business, and once you start it you’ll have to deal with competitors undoubtedly. You’ll have to finance it and promote it and find people to sell your chances and pay for art and printing and stuff. Also, there are only a few thousand people on Home as a market,” April warned her.
“That’s all detail,” Diana said, with a dismissive wave. “I’ve seen how a couple of my husbands did startups. I can do a business plan and I’ll remember a lot of the pitfalls they demonstrated too. As far as market size, why limit myself to Home?”
April didn’t have a good answer for that. It was her turn to be surprised.
Diana just smiled, tickled she had flummoxed April in turn. “I’ve got to run. See you soon,” she promised.
* * *
“Mssr. Broutin, you have messages,” the front desk informed him at check-in. They gave them to him actually printed out, in an envelope, instead of just routing it to his room screen. It seemed a trifle old fashioned, but elegant. They did not seem concerned to read a credit card or get advance payment, so he didn’t mention it either. He really didn’t want to run to a bank first thing. He took the messages to his room rather than stand and open them right there.
The room was snug, but no worse than he’d experienced on Earth. One night he’d been stuck at the airport in Amsterdam and rented a sleeping cube half this size. It still had a private bath and he’d forgone that luxury traveling in his youth and staying at hostels.
Their attempts to be quaint hadn’t extended to having somebody carry his bag. Pierre tossed it on the bed and used it as a prop under his knees to relax and open his messages. The first was as he expected, from April, inviting him to be her guest at the Fox and Hare at 1900 the next evening. She suggested he rest and take time to inspect the changes in Home since he’d visited. She strongly suggested buying a pair of spex and learning to use the 3D mapping and route overlay to get around the hab. Lastly she said she would make a young man available as a guide for him in the morning. He could help with whatever Pierre wished until they met for dinner. Well, that was nice. Cynic that he was, Pierre wondered how much of a babysitter or minder the fellow was intended to be?
The second message was from an Eric Pennington. He revealed April had reserved his day for Pierre’s service and he’d be available with about a ten minute delay anytime he wished to call com code 1972. Pierre wondered if the com codes were sequential and reissued when dropped from service? Might that tell him something about Mr. Pennington? He used the room console to send a text message to the man asking him to be available in the lobby at 0700 and he could guide him to breakfast, then he confirmed dinner with April. He set his own phone as an alarm, trusting it better than his experience with hotel services, and hoped to get a few more hours sleep on top of what he got on the shuttle.

Chapter 4
April dropped a text message about the same time to Heather.
“Have you received any messages from Pierre Broutin? He’s visiting Home and says he intends to go on to the Moon. He’s not just visiting Marseille. He mentioned Central specifically. What else would he do there but speak to you? You do remember him? He was at your mom’s place one night when I stayed over. He was worried your mom might not be able to ship a panel to an Earthie friend and was talking to her about it. I think he wanted to give her a hurry-up but knew better than to put it so bluntly. Knowing your mom she’d offer to cancel the commission and sell it on the public market if he tried that stuff on her. I intend to take him to dinner and perhaps he will reveal his intent further. He’s been very vague and made it sound more like a social visit so far.”
Heather didn’t always respond quickly to a text. She was after all a busy executive and sovereign, but the screen quickly displayed “About that,” so April would know she was typing a longer reply right now.
“Of course I remember him. I had a little envious crush on him and was taken with his accent and manners. He’d visited my mom a couple times before. I suspected his friend’s panel was more of an excuse to visit than a real concern. If you didn’t pick up on it, I think he was more interested in you than he’d ever admit. Nothing blatant, but he got that dreamy look guys get when they are fascinated. I was a little jealous. You were too young for him, but he might have been marking you as worth watching for the future. He gave you his cuff-links and I bet he doesn’t habitually pass out gold jewelry like party favors. If he has serious business, I can’t imagine anything is important enough to come from Earth, except the deal we did with Marseille to collect Helium 3 for them. Maybe we are wrong and it wasn’t directed from the mother country? Or perhaps they want to prod us to expand and supply more? We’ll just have to wait and see. I’d take him to dinner alone. He might speak more freely. If it seems worth your time and interest come with him or offer transport to Central.”
April could readily agree with that.
“I’ll do that. I did send Eric as a guide. I should have some sort of report from him without too much prompting. Eric isn’t stupid, and he looks so young Broutin might pump him a little more blatantly than an older man. He may reveal his core interests. I’ll keep you informed.” – Love, April
* * *
“What do you think of it?” Jeff asked. It wasn’t an idle question. He was paying a substantial fee for the man’s expertise as a distiller. The fellow swirled the whiskey around the glass and sniffed it thoughtfully. He didn’t do as Jeff expected and immediately address the drink itself. Perhaps he was being polite.
“Are you using the same char blocks in this second batch as the first?” Tim asked, with a wave that encompassed the looming stainless steel tank from which Jeff had drawn the sample.
“Basically yes, though maybe half are a new batch of wood.”
“Might I see two or three of the old ones from the first batch?” Tim asked.
“Sure. Hang on a second and I’ll get them. Sit if you like,” Jeff offered.
“Also, provide a way to cleave them in half, if you would please.”
When Jeff came back he had three of the blackened cubes, and a Japanese pruning knife. He didn’t have anything like a hatchet, but he had a mallet to strike the back of the knife. Tim took another sip, so it must not be terrible.
Tim rolled the cubes around examining them, and sat them back down. Jeff figured out he was ascertaining which way the grain ran. Tim was gentle, taking a number of cautious blows to split the blocks, but that way they didn’t have to chase any split so vigorously the pieces flew off to the floor.
“Ah yes, attend here please. You see the center of your wood is largely unchanged in color?”
Jeff nodded, not trying to prompt him.
“That’s pretty much wasted, or if you should allow it to age a very long time, it could actually be to your detriment. You see, it will take a very long time, ten to fifteen years likely before the diffusion conducts the taste of the unaltered wood to the spirits. That isn’t the flavor you should be seeking anyhow. You need to use smaller blocks or drill cross holes if you wish.
“Your heat needs to reach deeper to toast the wood so it yields flavor. Right now, you have a narrow band of wood in the condition you wish, enclosing untreated wood and surrounded by too much char. You lack the wood that gives favorable flavors, and have formed too deep a char, which will remove desirable fractions along with the unpleasant.” He paused long enough that Jeff felt he was seeking a response.
“I see. How should I alter my process to correct this condition?”
“You need to heat the wood slower and longer. The heat level these blocks experienced should only be applied briefly at the end, and you should flush the atmosphere at pressure once while still hot at the end, so the volatiles you have driven off do not condense and get absorbed back into the char surface. Then seal it and allow it to cool.
“You need to sample your blocks in just this manner to make sure they have been correctly prepared before you use them. You might have to do several small batches and resign yourself to wasting a few until you have the method perfected.
“If you do that then you might have an interesting and palatable whiskey in six or eight years. It won’t be an Earth whiskey, and I doubt you will ever make the process copy that taste closely, but it can be a fine drink with its own character,” he judged. “If you really want a consistent product you need to go beyond expert taste testing. You need a specialist in the organic chemistry of distillation and the proper equipment to do quantitative liquid chromatography. The chances of hiring such talent away from an established firm are very slim, so my suggestion would be to find someone with a passion for the art and develop your own standards and expertise in house.”
“There’s no way to save this batch is there?” Jeff asked frowning. “It wouldn’t be a process I’d repeat, so it would be useless as a process.”
“I’m sure there is a market for anything,” Tim allowed, “however, if you intend a favorable reputation, and wish to attach it to a label. I’d sell this off unbranded, or use a throw away branding people won’t associate with your important line. You could use it premixed or a novelty item with added flavors.”
“I’ll do that,” Jeff agreed. “If you ever change your mind and want to stay on Home or the Moon let me know,” Jeff said. “I’d be happy to hire you full time or part time. Heather would probably have lots of other duties that could keep you busy and would be interesting in other food processing areas. We’re just getting started really.”
“Thank you, but no. I like to walk among trees and sail. I want to feel the wind on my face and to experience fifty different restaurants in a year. This was an interesting vacation, and I’m glad I took it, but this will never be home to me. I’ll keep this as a remembrance of a once in a lifetime trip, and hang it on a neck chain,” Tim said, holding up the Solar that was his fee.
* * *
General Bellini looked at the map display in horror. The Texans had control of the area annexed and the force it would take to dislodge them was simply not available to him. In theory maybe he had the numbers, but he didn’t have the transport to move them or the logistics to feed them and supply ordinance for a protracted campaign.
The key to their grab was the swift placement of road blocks and control points on the new borders. They had special forces airdropped onto the road and river crossing points, especially both sides of the Mississippi at the thirty third parallel line. Both banks of the river at the parallel was one place they did rush in heavy artillery and were still flying in a plane load of ammo for the big guns every couple hours. They planned to use a great number of rounds if he contested the river with them there.
The planners had brilliantly infiltrated combat engineers who simply bought or rented civilian bulldozers and front loaders and pre-sited them to quickly build fortifications at those check points while the people to man them were still falling from the sky. Now that those fortifications were in place, they were continuing to cut tank traps and clear fields of fire that would make recovery of those assets more difficult by the hour.
If he removed the military support to the states he still had, he faced likely rebellion to his rear as well as a battle before him. Quebec in particular was a seething pit of intrigue just waiting for a moment of weakness to rebel. The Sons of Liberty, who were basically the remnants of the Patriot Party holding their fingers crossed behind their backs, were stronger in the northern states. One miscalculation could find God’s Warriors hammered from both sides, with the Patriots holding many important sources of their supply.
The catastrophe was piled on top of his personal one. He’d just been diagnosed with an inoperable cancer that had spread beyond any reasonable chance of treatment, and a miracle there seemed as remote a possibility as taking Louisiana back. Another man, faced with his own end and an impossible tactical situation, might have decided to go out in a blaze of glory leaving a legacy of acting on principle in the face of certain defeat.
Bellini wasn’t sufficiently psychopathic to tear down his world as an angry parting gesture. He employed any number of officers who would accept those orders without a twitch. He thought he could make a list of them fairly easily.
Some of those same officers might kill him to keep him from doing what he was thinking about doing now – compromising with their internal opposition. But that was no longer the threat to him it would have seemed a month ago, was it? He smiled. If that happened they might save him a painful slow end in bed with a bunch of tubes and wires fending off the inevitable. He might even die a martyr if his secret illness was never revealed.
“Lieutenant Brink, I wish you to take a private letter for me to the head of the Sons of Liberty,” Bellini said, quite calmly. “I’ll dictate.”
Brick looked alarmed, because they rarely credited the Patriots with their newly chosen name in private without appending some sarcastic derision. This was a sea change, and it gave him a chill. His reaction was readily visible.
“Now we’ll see if the little weasel is the first to try to kill me,” Bellini thought.
* * *
Pierre went to the lobby ten minutes early. He had a small case with his remaining cash, his letter of credit should he need it, and the gold bars. He wouldn’t have to double back to his room to get it, and the room didn’t have a safe such as he was used to expecting in Earth hotels. They offered the use of a safe in common in their office, but that seemed even more cumbersome than just carrying it. Nothing else in his big bag was valuable enough to worry about.
His guide wasn’t in evidence yet. That was OK, he personally felt if he wasn’t a little early he was late, but other people had different customs. After he’d vacationed in Turkey he thought he was immunized against being shocked by any lack of promptness.
There was a love seat opposite the desk, out of the way, beside a stand with a single serve coffee maker and a covered tray of pastries and muffins for guests. It was only a few minutes until the hour so he determined he should wait and have a real breakfast with his guide.
The young boy sitting in an arm chair nearby got up and approached him. Pierre wondered if he was about to meet his first Home panhandler.
“Mssr. Broutin?” Eric asked, and presented his business card double handed. He didn’t quite bow, but the way he leaned forward to present his card suggested it. He didn’t look a bit Japanese. M3 was Japanese though, wasn’t it? Pierre took it double handed since that was the way it was presented.
“Do you speak Japanese?” Pierre asked, which he immediately regretted. What he really wanted to know was if the boy was Japanese by culture, but it seemed an awkward question to put that way.
“Sukoshi dake,” Eric said, and made a rocking gesture with his hand. “Not much,” he added when there was no look of comprehension on Pierre’s face.
Pierre nodded and looked at his card since Eric didn’t have a hand out.
Eric Pennington
Nation of Home – Com Code 1972
Used Personal Electronics / Courier Services / Food Delivery
Contract Services in Light Manufacturing
Pierre lifted an eyebrow and regarded the youth. “You don’t seem to limit yourself. It says nothing about guiding tourists. I’m constantly astonished that young people aren’t precluded from working at all as a matter of law.”
“I do whatever needs to be done. I can’t do vacuum work. Nobody would trust my maturity to even instruct me in that. I might pass a pilot’s exam and get my certificate, but I doubt anyone would trust me with a vessel worth a few thousand Solars just yet either. There are limits on what I can do. How do Earthies learn to do business without doing it? There are so many things about doing business that you really can’t learn from a book.”
“But aren’t you missing the book part of it right now?” Pierre asked.
“Just today, yeah. I had a class to study in History and a Chapter in Materials Science to study. I’m recording the History class and will read everybody’s questions and discussion. If I need to I can ask the instructor about it. I like history, so chances are I already know more detail than the program demands.
“The Materials Science is a flow class. Everybody comes in and finishes up at their own pace so there is no start and stop. I can read it when I want. That’s tougher. It’s a whole bunch of stuff about glass steel with phase diagrams and talking about energy states,” Eric said, rolling his eyes.
“Guiding an Earthie is a rare opportunity. You don’t get to interact with people from a different culture on any schedule. You grab the chance when it presents itself, and nobody would argue it isn’t educational. Besides, I get to do something for April, and her triad is an excellent association to cultivate. I’d do it for free, but she said to charge her whatever I felt it was worth. How many folks will give you a contract like that?”
“Not many, I’m sure. I’m in government service, so I’m not used to thinking in business terms. I’m more concerned with the relationship between governments, and how they regulate business. One affects the other of course.” Broutin decided not to argue that there was a cultural divide with his guide. Why alienate the boy first thing before they got to know each other?
Eric nodded. “You’re the Foreign Minister of France. April didn’t mention that, but I did a search on you while I was waiting.” He touched his spex to indicate how. It still unnerved Pierre to see such an expensive appliance on young children.
“You did a face search?” Pierre asked, resigned to it being common here.
“No, before you came out. You were the first three cites just by name on the Earth web. But it did have your portrait. People would just walk past you in the corridor but you have to expect a lot of them are going to do a face search on you if you walk around dressed like that.”
It would have been easy to take offense at that, but the boy didn’t have a trace of animus in the statement, just fact. “I have already had occasion to regret dressing distinctively on my trip here,” Pierre admitted. “This mode of dress has benefits on Earth, but I did not anticipate it drawing unwanted attention here. The last time I visited Home, or at least M3, it wasn’t such an issue.”
“If you want to go stealth let me know. After breakfast I can take you to a tailor shop my sister works with, and they can make you look like a native in a half hour or so,” Eric offered.
“I have yet to do a currency exchange,” Pierre revealed. “I need to do that before any shopping. Indeed, I only have a few dollars Australian. I may be short to even buy breakfast.”
“Nah, food is cheap. Mitsubishi subsidizes it. I think the hot breakfast buffet is about fifty bucks Australian. But I never use up all my cafeteria card credit. I can put you on it and save your cash.”
“I thank you. Let’s go then. If I sit around here much longer I’ll be hitting the sweet rolls,” he said, gesturing at the snacks provided for guests.
“That stuff doesn’t stick with you. We can do much better,” Eric promised.
* * *
“The omelette was marvelous,” Pierre admitted. “I didn’t expect fresh mushrooms and Gruyrè cheese here.”
“In the public cafeteria?” Eric asked. “I can almost assure you it’s fake cheese from the Moon, and the mushrooms will be from there too, though they are easy to grow for real. The eggs are imported, but I think maybe they mix freeze dried in the mix for scrambled or omelets, and save straight shell eggs for over easy or pouched where you can’t fake it.”
“Then they did an amazing job,” Pierre said, not entirely convinced.
“We get salad stuff and really good faux cream cheese,” Eric said. “I like that on bagels. I’m not sure of everything they’re doing yet, I’m more interested in the eating than the business side, but I know they grow boneless beef. I haven’t had any yet but they have it for sale to fix at home and in the fancy private clubs. It’s a little pricey for my family.”
“Where would you suggest going to exchange my EuroMarks?” Pierre asked. He really didn’t want to pry into Eric’s family or their economic status.
“Well, if you are doing any business with April and her people, I assume you don’t want to tell them every bit you own. That pretty much means you go to Irwin at the Private Bank of Home. He and Jeff do business, but they keep completely separate accounts. I keep my own accounts with Irwin even though I work for the System Trade Bank.”
That knocked Pierre back into a bizarre sense of wonder again. Eric couldn’t have accounts in France. He wasn’t sure he could anywhere on Earth, much less work for a bank. What could he possibly do for a bank? If he did do their courier work, who would bond him? Maybe he cleaned their offices at night.
“Then by all means let’s go see Mr. Irwin,” Pierre said.
“Irwin Hall, Mr. Hall if you want to be formal with him,” Eric explained.
* * *
Diana laid her phone face down on the table. Sylvia was holding both hands around a mug of coffee taking a sip now and then. Gunny was laying out brunch from a thermo-pack a young lady had just dropped off. Eduardo was slouched low in his seat, eyes almost closed, and looked like he might be going to sleep. Looks were deceiving.
“April Lewis just gave me a wonderful idea for a business,” Diana said.
Gunny looked at Eduardo slowly, and Eduardo Muños lifted one lazy eyelid and gave him the old fish eye back. “We heard a little,” Gunny admitted.
“What? Don’t be that way! If you have an objection to it say it plainly instead of trading sly sarcastic looks back and forth,” Diana demanded.
“Why didn’t she keep the idea for herself if it’s so wonderful?” Muños asked.
“She has so many irons in the fire she likely has to prioritize,” Gunny told him. “Maybe this just fell off the bottom of the list she can actually implement.”
“She did say a bunch of reasons it would be difficult to do, but she asked for a cut of the action in exchange for the idea. I promised her a percent.” Diana said.
“That’s good then, if she bothered to keep a finger in on the action it’s probably viable and it will get behind the scenes support from those three so she gets her percent,” Gunny said. “It’s a percent here and a percent there. You got off easy. Sometimes it’s three percent or even five. You have no idea how it all adds up. Your contribution will probably cover my pay to be her body guard.”
“Seems like easy money to me,” Diana ribbed him. “You can go off for other gigs and take a vacation without any notice.”
“It always looks easy to others, standing around in the background like a potted plant, until you have to eat a bullet for someone. It was a lot harder when we were in Earth orbit. Moving out here has cut way down on the crazies and assassins. But if she wants to visit another hab I drop what I’m doing and cover her back, not that she isn’t pretty dangerous all by herself.”
“I noticed she wasn’t in any hurry to get you back,” Diana admitted.
“She won’t ask me to escort her to the Moon,” Gunny predicted. “Central is, if anything, safer than Home. But who is this old friend she mentioned as meeting here, Sylvia? I thought I’d met all her old friends by now.”
“That has to be a French fellow who is really an old friend of mine. April only met him one morning for breakfast at my place. Now, he did make an impression on her. I’m sure of that. He is rather charming and actually gave her his gold cuff links right off of his cuffs when she admired them. But she was very young then and looked it, even discounting life extension therapy. He did admire her bravado. This was before the war and she made clear her people would offer blockade running service if he needed them. Though as far as I know, he never hired them.
“But he hasn’t called you? Was there a rift?” Muños wondered.
Sylvia regarded his face and decided he wasn’t getting possessive about her. She was a little worried about that. He was a bit old school, but that had its charms too. Everything had trade-offs.
“He may have called. I turn my com off to messages when I go away. I come back to hundreds of irritating messages I have to sort if I don’t do that, like people wanting glass sculptures for five bits and the valuable exposure of displaying my art. He hasn’t been to Home since we moved, and he keeps offering for me to come down to the Slum Ball to visit him.” She made a face to indicate what the chances of that happening were.
“So, he isn’t on the short list of a dozen people with my priority com code. I won’t be a slave to my com like some people are. No matter how charming Pierre is, I’m not sitting at the com waiting for his call.” She didn’t look at Muños, but hoped she planted the idea she wasn’t going to wait in breathless anticipation for his calls either, though in honesty Muños was on the priority call list, for now.
“I think she’ll take him to the Fox and Hare,” Diana said, “It’s her place, so it gives her that much more control of the meeting. Let’s go too. I’d like to check this bird out. If she doesn’t show it’s still a fun evening.”
Sylvia might have passed on letting Pierre know she was back on Home right now, but it would be awkward and a little cowardly to admit that.
“Indeed, we shall go, and you can see this ‘bird’ all the fuss is about,” Sylvia agreed. Hopefully, Pierre would be bright enough to see she was otherwise engaged, and not ask something silly like coming to crash on her couch like a college student.
* * *
“You really need a decent pair of spex,” Eric insisted. “I’ll introduce you to Irwin and go get you a pair. There’s no reason for me to stand around listening to your business.”
“April mentioned I should get a pair. It just slipped my mind. She said something about 3D mapping to get around. I have a pocket phone, with a big screen.” Pierre showed it to Eric. “I believe from my previous visit the local usage is to call them a pad. Will it run mapping software? How much would I be spending for the spex headset?” Pierre wondered.
“I deal in used spex,” Eric said, with a dismissive wave. “Folks tend to buy a new pair every six months or so to get new features. I’ll just give you a pair from the second generation back that nobody but kids or poor people will buy now. That’s less trouble than finding out if a map will run on a pad. It’s a trivial expense to worry about. You may need it to get around after dinner because that terminates my contract with April, unless you would decide to hire me after.”
Pierre was coming to appreciate that Eric wasn’t like the simple minded children of his cousins and brother at home. Nobody expected them to display any maturity until they were well out of university. Indeed they actively retarded them and barred them by law from grasping any responsibility. He’d seen the same thing with April and Heather so long ago, and the lesson had faded in his mind. They’d gone off to work on their spaceship, when he’d assumed they were headed for a night of dancing and entertainment. He’d thought Sylvia was pulling his leg when she told him that. He put a question to Eric bluntly.
“Does her contract with you include a debriefing after we are done?”
“She didn’t request one. Neither did April ask me to find out any specific facts about you. I was told to be generally helpful to you. If she decides to ask how I discharged my assignment after the fact, she is paying for my time, isn’t she? When I asked, she did specify how information should flow the other way, which seems reasonable to me too. That’s more than I was obligated to say, but I don’t want you thinking I’m one of her intelligence operatives.”
“The other way?” Pierre asked, uncertain what he meant.
“I asked how I should respond to your questions about her. She advised me that I was welcome to tell you anything I knew to be public knowledge about her.
“I can see that,” Pierre admitted. “If you do all sorts of work for them you know too much about their everyday business and private comings and goings to share. That why people get paranoid about their phone security, because they can reconstruct their lives from all the little pieces if you let them.”
“That’s why the mapping program on your spex is totally on board and doesn’t work with an external server,” Eric told him. “Spacers don’t like being spied on. Neither would I supply you a spex with a back door. If I did that and it got out nobody would ever hire me or buy from me again.”
Pierre hadn’t even considered that possibility. But something Eric said finally clicked in Pierre’s mind.
“You imply April does have intelligence operatives?”
“The three of them, her partners included, do. People know that, but I’m not sure I know all of them, and I wouldn’t want to name the ones I suspect. You have to understand, it’s well known to all the shift workers and kids that April pays for information. They send a continual flood of anything they find unusual or suspicious to her com code. Things like what ship is unloading odd cargo or people you don’t usually see together are having lunch with each other. Stuff like that. If you send too much stupid stuff and waste her time she’ll send you a notice that she blocked you. Nobody wants that to happen,” Eric assured him.
“Bothering her with things she didn’t ask for?” Pierre assumed.
Eric looked blank and uncomprehending for a moment, and then smiled.
“She never asks for anything. If she did people might start filtering and tell her only what they think she wants. She’d miss things she never imagined to ask for. Some greedy people might even send false reports thinking they’d get paid for the lie. But if it falls under gossip she usually doesn’t want to have to hear it.”
“But, doesn’t the pattern become obvious as she pays for particular tips?”
“She never says what you’re getting paid for,” Eric said. “A dock rat may send her a couple tips a day and all of a sudden he gets tenth Solar and a thank-you. He doesn’t know for which tip. It’s free money and he’ll keep doing it. I do.”
“It’s brilliant, if you can afford to keep enough cash flowing to keep people interested,” Pierre realized. “But the calls, she must get several thousand a day.”
“Shucks, you could program a cheap social secretary program to do a pretty good job of sorting them by key words,” Eric said. “Not even a real AI.”
They’d talked so long they’d been standing outside the bank to finish their conversation. The thought flashed on him the bank might worry they were being robbed by people loitering around outside, but then the man inside waved at Eric, so he knew him. He should have known that.
Eric pointed at Pierre and gave the fellow a thumbs-up through the glass. It was a very abbreviated testimonial, but got a grave nod back.
“Go ahead and do your business with Irwin,” Eric said. “Tell him as little or as much as you want. I’ll go get your spex and he’ll take good care of you.”
And once again Pierre felt like he was in a strange place as he walked in. On Earth he couldn’t imagine doing business with a bank until they knew everything about him. Irwin stood, relaxed, and offered his hand across the desk.
* * *
Eric was waiting on a bench in the corridor when Pierre emerged from the bank. He’d only needed a half hour which seemed insanely fast. Most of that time being taken to answer his many questions. There wasn’t any need to get verification back from his government or employer, them being the same in his case which should make things easier, but seemed to do the opposite every time he bought real estate or a ground car back home.
He now had a credit card that would be accepted anywhere off Earth, and a few small coins and more of the bits to which Jason had introduced him. Irwin insisted on making sure he peeled the tab off and set the taster square on the card to his touch in the man’s sight.
A sufficient balance took all the funds and gold he carried, and France would be receiving a draw on his letter of credit bigger than he intended to use, but that was simply the reality of the situation. He trusted Irwin’s assessment of what his expenses were going to be. It would have been nice to keep his mission hidden even from some of the accounting sections of his own government, but by the time people became aware of the debit he hoped to be back home and his mission accomplished.
Pierre was used to the political world where appearances meant a great deal. If the press caught you yawning or picking your nose the web sites would glory in exposing your awkward private moment to the public. He’d never allow himself to be seen like Eric was now, sitting with his knees spread apart leaning on them with both elbows. He was holding what must be Pierre’s new spex in his finger tips, swinging them back and forth absentmindedly. It must be nice to be able to relax so in public, unconcerned. If he did that back home the press would mock him for being uncultured and without poise.
“I’d like to do as you suggested, and buy a change of clothing that doesn’t mark me as an Earthie,” Pierre requested. It felt odd to say Earthie. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t a slur.
“I was going to show you how to use your spex for mapping, but let’s go to the tailor shop. They will need a few minutes to sew everything up after measuring you and I can teach you to use your spex while we wait.”
“You said your sister works there, is she a modiste?” Pierre asked.
Eric hesitated, looking the unfamiliar word up in his spex. “Not exactly, she’s a designer, but she’s gone from designing clothing and doing advertising art to her own style of mixed media and portraiture. She’s grown very close to the owners and sometimes works on her art there just for their company.”
“That’s nice. Sometimes one acquires family of the heart that way.”
“Yes, I think you understand exactly,” Eric agreed. “Cindy and Frank have been here a long time. They don’t have much competition. You can buy stuff from Earth by size or Zack carries a few things like t-shirts. But all that stuff is made for full gravity, and now for Earth mores. It’s getting hard to order short sleeves because you can’t wear them much of anywhere out in public. Cindy and Frank make stuff to fit and custom design.”
“Bespoke clothing,” Pierre said.
“Yes, but I didn’t think bespoke t-shirts and other casual clothing are common on Earth, just things like fine suits and tuxedos.”
“Well, shoes and boots still, and there are makers of hunting clothing and riding things, all rather specialized it’s true,” Pierre said.
“Just about everybody wears fitted footies and slippers,” Eric said, “but those are all machine made, often a vending machine.”
Pierre stopped before the entry because there was a poster in the window.
“It seems like windows themselves are rather an anachronism in a completely controlled environment,” he decided.
“People still expect them. If nothing else it’s free advertising to allow traffic in the corridor to peer in. Also, you can post things like this,” Eric said, waving at the drawing.
Pierre leaned closer, too close really for the size of the drawing, and frowned. It was scaled for a mid-corridor viewing distance.
“This doesn’t look like a lithograph,” he said, quizzically.
“That’s some of my sister’s work I was telling you about. The piece in the window will always be an original drawing. She sold them off for awhile, and she still will if somebody waves enough money in her face. There have been a few people who bought the clothing pictured in her sketch, and then just had to have the drawing. Some people have more money than sense. Mostly, she likes to keep the originals and sell prints, like you expected. She’s doing well enough to not grub after every Solar when she’s attached to the drawings.”
“So the design is hers too? Multiple talents are impressive,” Pierre allowed.
“Usually, sometimes Cindy does one or they collaborate. She does portraiture and uh, I guess you’d say political stuff too.”
Pierre’s eyebrows went up. “You mean propaganda? I didn’t know Home had any real self-promotion. I’ve seen some excerpts of your Assembly in session, but that’s supposedly reality. Most Earth nations block those. If they have any music or art I’ve never had the occasion to see it. It must be for domestic consumption.”
“Not exactly stuff like revolutionary art,” Eric said, embarrassed. “I saw some of that when we studied communism. It was pretty ugly to my eye. It hit you over the head without any try at subtlety, solid garish colors and the same symbols over and over.” He drew a flat hand across the air like he could see it again. “The stuff Lindsey draws was bought by private parties, not government to display. I think she would probably describe it as historical rather than political. But a lot of it was of political events or people who made the revolution happen. She sold a ton of portraits of Muños, and she told me he wasn’t all that thrilled by it.
“How modest,” Pierre said. Eric couldn’t tell if it was honest or sarcasm.
“That looks like something for a younger man,” Pierre said, switching the conversation back towards the immediate.
“Maybe a beam dog,” Eric allowed. “I’d look silly in it. It’s to show off all your muscles. Maybe in ten years I could look like that, but if you don’t do hard labor it takes an ungodly amount of time in the gym to look like that. I’ve got more important things to do than sweat in a resistance frame for hours every day.”
“We’re of a mind there. Let’s go in and see what they have for a mature man.

Chapter 5
“The number of people who return after one tour on Mars is far too high,” Jonus insisted to Lukas, his boss. “There are extraordinary measures taken to prevent the people there from feeling isolation or deprivation. They have much more room than many orbital habitats, and just the psychological impact of being able to look out a window and see a world beyond their sealed environment helps. They have recreational opportunities and the gravity is sufficient for almost everyone to prevent health related issues without needing drugs.”
His supervisor looked skeptical, so Jonus moved on to his main point.
“Now, if it was being a hardship post causing these losses then you’d expect things would be getting better as we add cubic and amusements to the base. After all, this is a unique assignment for scientific researchers, and you’d expect after the competition to get there it would be difficult to make them to go home, but that’s not the case. Instead you can see this trend of falling retention over the last four cycles of resupply missions bringing new personnel and taking old away.”
That did get a spark of visible interest from Lukas.
“Now, the administration of the base hasn’t changed. The top two tiers of supervisors, the director and department heads, has been constant from well before this change in retention. So something happened. I’m not sure what, but it changed the retention profile of all the non-administrative classifications.”
“I can see that,” Lukas agreed, looking at the graphs Jonus offered. “I know two hundred is a small sample,” he said, rounding it off, “but that looks way outside the probability of a chance correlation.”
He’d established doubt in Lukas’ mind, so now he’d see if that would overcome the aversion to using resources from outside the department. “I have a friend who audits the flow of physical goods to the base.” Jonus admitted. “He intimated over dinner there was something not right with the resource usage there, but he was having a hard time understanding what. It didn’t match any reasonable theft or fraud patterns he was used to seeing from his professional experience, most of which was with Earth companies and systems of course.”
“So, did the supply discrepancies he could not explain start the same time as the change in how the personnel started behaving?” Lukas asked.
Jonus was delighted. He knew Lukas was no dummy and he’d jumped ahead to the very thing he’d wondered himself.
“No. The supply diversions didn’t start until the next ship cycle. They have been going on the last three missions, although the first one was minor and the last two ships loads greater but about the same.”
Lukas narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtfully suspicious. Jonus didn’t ramble on and let him think on everything before he said any more.
“That’s actually more worrisome than if they started at the same time,” Lukas concluded. “There is always a progression from thinking and planning to the actual implementation evidenced by physical deeds.”
“Precisely my thinking,” Jonus agreed. “We’re approaching another supply launch also, so if anyone needs to go investigate it should be arranged quickly.”
Lukas looked at him like he was waiting. Perhaps he expected Jonus to propose a much more detailed course of action, volunteer even. He wasn’t going to, and that was apparent after a long enough pause.
“We have too many barriers to working with accounting,” Lukas said slowly. “I’m sure that they would have similar problems trying to work with us. We each have closely held information that should not circulate outside our departments. However, my intuition is that we are simply seeing the surface ripples of a deeper disturbance that is political in nature, which is beyond the proper purview of either of us. Therefore I’m going to pass this up to those above us who are concerned with security matters. That’s not only the correct thing to do, but much safer for us in my estimation.”
Jonus nodded acceptance. “That doesn’t satisfy my personal curiosity, but it makes sense to me. If you sent me to Mars to investigate this I don’t think I have the tools to do so, and it might even be personally dangerous. The numbers of fatalities on Mars by accident have increased slightly, and I’m suspicious of that too. Let them send an agent or spy used to dealing with intrigue, even if it means we never know the end of the matter.”
Lukas shook his head no. “I disagree. I have a strong feeling this is going to be so big that when it is finally exposed that there will be no covering it up.”
* * *
The tailor shop was decorated in colors and surfaces that reminded Pierre of his parent’s seaside vacation condo thirty years ago. It was amazing how colors and styles of chairs could be associated with a certain period down to almost the decade. There was a huge port with a view of the moon, but then Pierre remembered that if it was a port everything would be whizzing by. It was a display screen made to look like a port, probably from one of the hubs on the hab that didn’t turn. At least it didn’t have curtains to push the theme. Surely the shop wasn’t that old. Home hadn’t existed back then he was pretty sure.
There were a couple really old robots standing to each side of the faux port like suits of armor or cigar store Indians. The semi-humanoid form had never really caught on anywhere but Japan. Pierre found them a little creepy, though he remembered there was a restaurant that used them as novelty servers when he was a child. These were so old they had a patina, and no one had made any effort to refinish them.
Frank offered Pierre coffee or tea, which he hurried off to get. It was Cindy however who came over and examined his jacket with a critical eye. She rolled the lapel over and turned the cuffs back without asking permission, as comfortable intruding on his personal space as a doctor would be familiar with your body. It was impossible to be offended, especially when she said: “This is very fine hand work. We can do the same thing by machine now, but it hasn’t been that long ago it couldn’t be equaled. And a good thing it’s possible now, since there are very few left alive in the trade who know how to do it by hand.”
“It’s by a very well regarded London shop,” Pierre said. “I have a few Italian suits too, but they tend to be a bit more stylish. I won’t wear them for work, because I need a dead serious and somber appearance for matters of state.”
Cindy didn’t ask what state, so Pierre was resigned to the idea he could forget any chance of anonymity.
“This is my normal mode of dress. I have little opportunity to dress casually if I’m not at home. However, I’d really like something that doesn’t shout I’m an outsider and draw attention to me walking down the corridor,” Pierre explained.
Cindy pursed her lips. “I can make you less conspicuous, but honestly, off the one G level here you’ll walk so differently than locals it will catch the eye of a lot of the natives, especial the old timers. You aren’t armed, which people notice, and your shoes and haircut both scream Earthie!”
“I’m very willing to switch to a pair of soft comfortable shoes. I see people wearing some that look like slippers to me.”
“Have Eric take you by a footie machine,” Frank said. “I’d have to charge you three or four times as much to make them here.”
“Thank you. I suppose I could have my hair cut too,” he said with a grimace, and ran his hand across it.
“It grows out,” Cindy pointed out. “Probably back to where it is now in about three weeks.”
“I’m going on to the Moon, so I suppose that doesn’t matter. I’m reluctant to spend a large sum for a weapon, just for show, that I can’t take back to Earth.”
“Can you shoot?” Cindy asked. “I wouldn’t suggest wearing it just for show if you don’t know which end to grab. It’s not something that can be taught in an hour and then send you out in public, carrying.”
“As matter of fact, I have military experience, and France, though in the Union, has fewer restrictions than you might think.” He didn’t add for high officials. “I own a lovely antique Browning Hi-Power, but it would be a nightmare to get it here legally. I’d be scared of a misstep in some other jurisdiction, getting it seized and destroyed.”
“Zack’s, that’s a ship’s chandlery and sort of a general store and fancy grocer, rents pistols if you want,” Eric told him.
“That’s interesting. I didn’t know that, dear,” Cindy said.
“I believe I can muddle along without one,” Pierre insisted.
She regarded Pierre again. “I also doubt you plan to spend much time strolling up and down the corridors to be inspected by the natives. Where do you want to go and what do you want to do that I can suggest appropriate attire?”
“Oh, the only hard appointment I have is to join a young lady for dinner at the Fox and Hare this evening. Miss April Lewis if you know her.”
Cindy laughed. “Everybody knows April. She speaks pretty frequently in the Assembly. Also she’s a client. She’s very likely to be dressed elegantly to go to her club. You don’t want me to send you off there looking boring.”
Pierre grimaced. “As you say, but neither do I want to be cutting edge and a peacock. That can be pathetic in an older man.”
Frank came back with coffee in a French press and a tray of cookies and sandwiches. “Nonsense, you aren’t fat and saggy,” Frank said bluntly. “Everyone is gene mod and has life extension now. I expect the next thing to be the older gentlemen bleaching their hair a bit at the temples to restore their mature look.”
“You’re ahead of the trend dear,” Cindy said with a smile.
“Why did you say her club?” Pierre wondered. “Do people have a habit of patronizing a particular place where their social set expects to find them?”
“That’s one of those publicly known things I can tell you,” Eric volunteered. “April is one of the owners. She has an interest in the Fox and Hare. I couldn’t tell you how much, but she is involved in its operation enough to have designed the logo it uses and the sign in the corridor.”
“On Earth she wouldn’t be allowed to patronize a club, much less own an interest in a place that serves alcohol,” Pierre protested.
“I’ve never been there myself,” Eric admitted. “I’d feel a bit pushy to try until I have my majority voted. I’d be afraid of being turned away and word getting around I had no idea what was appropriate behavior.”
Pierre had so many question from that he didn’t know where to start.
“We still have customs about what are adult things, even when we don’t have laws,” Cindy informed him. “The club doesn’t have laws about who they must serve either. I know for a fact they won’t accept people without a shirt or long pants. They had to post that at the door for some idiots until word got around.”
“Then I put myself in your hands, since you know local custom.”
“Excellent,” Cindy said, making a show if rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “I do my best work when a client doesn’t have all sorts of preconceptions.”
“Do have a nibble,” Frank urged Pierre. “The cucumber and pimento cheese sandwich is quite good, and I baked the raisin cookies myself in the back room. You too, Eric I made enough.”

* * *
“Mo, I want to have a talk with you about the atomic separators and some other things” Heather said. “I’ll have a few other people there. After supper, say 1730.”
“You should know the workers got tired of various technical descriptions of them. There being no common name for the devices, they seem to have reached a consensus to call them French mills,” Mo said.
“Fine, there is probably a French name for them, but I don’t care what we call them,” Heather allowed, “at least that is printable in proper Earth society. If you fight people on slang it makes you look stuffy and authoritative.”
“You’ve seen my reports, I assume. I’ve been sending you build and product numbers. You haven’t had any comment on them, but I took that for satisfaction. I better ask specifically now though, in case your spam filter ate them.”
“More my foolishness filter,” Heather said. “My executive mail box won’t accept anything from an Earth address, so I only get messages from our own people who need to tell me breathlessly that the light fixtures have been dutifully checked and two defective lamps replaced.”
“Do you need any newer or different numbers?” Mo inquired.
“No, this is going to be new matters, not a rehash of what we’ve been doing, and more of a policy discussion,” Heather said, and closed the call.
Mo was still nervous. He’d been expecting Heather to ask if he was really committed to Central, because his family was still on Home and he spent every leave there. Heather hadn’t explicitly said she was happy with him, and right now he really wanted to hear that said plainly. But if she was going to jump on him about that, why would she bring other people in? That wasn’t Heather’s style to dress you down in front of others. Not unless you came to court and stupidly asked for it in a public setting. He needed to press Linda again to come at least look at the Moon, so if he was asked about that he’d have a good answer. Right now he couldn’t make the commitment he wanted and needed to make.
Heather for her part had no idea what a problem his situation was in Mo’s mind. She had other concerns and hadn’t picked up on his insecurities at all.
* * *
“This won’t make me look ridiculous?” Pierre demanded. “It would get me invited to leave or even arrested for deviate behavior on much of Earth.”
“Short jackets are the style now for men. This is a very conservative interpretation of them,” Cindy assured him. “It’s in a muted color for Home, without piping or fancy buttons. It isn’t tapered tight and high on the waist, doesn’t even button, and it has absolutely no embroidery or sparkles. The cape collar turns down if you don’t like it sticking up.”
Pierre turned sideways and regarded it with suspicion. Nobody dared wear anything so form fitting on Earth. He kept himself in a fit condition or he wouldn’t dare either. He tried to imagine everyone dressed like this at a diplomatic function and had to dismiss the ugly thought from his mind. Modern medicine had just about eliminated obesity, but no pill could make you look like you didn’t sit at a desk all day. Far too many refused to take time to visit the gym or even a daily walk. He was not used to a jacket that didn’t go down past his hips. Frock coats were in again, back on earth.
The old robots Pierre had thought static displays activated and fussed with him, looking for loose threads and letting him look in a plain old fashioned mirror instead of showing him an all-around video camera pan. Then they retreated to each side of the faux window and parked again.
“You look like a stack of Solars,” Eric assured him, busy finishing up the snacks Frank brought. “Stop looking at your butt, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Pierre muttered.
“I’m a guy not a babe,” Eric objected. “But some of the babes may approve. With Life Extension so common, my sister said older looking men are considered a little exotic now. Girls are looking interesting to me now, but they still don’t make any sense to me.”
“A different usage,” Pierre assured him, and decided not to warn him his perception of females might not clarify going forward. “The ribbon under the foot is strange too. I’m used to tugging my pants up when I sit so the knees don’t get baggy. I do that without thinking about it, but can’t with these pants. My tailor would glare at me if I bagged the knees out.”
“If it were a fine woolen fabric that would make sense,” Cindy agreed. “This stuff is stronger than steel. If I gave you a sample you’d be hard pressed to rip it by hand unless I notched the edge to give you start. A little thicker weave of the same stuff would stop pistol bullets.”
“I’ll try not to test that,” Pierre quipped.
“The ribbon keeps it from riding up in zero G. I can’t believe it’s thick enough to bother you. I thought you’d object to the shirt,” Cindy said, frustrated.
The shirt was medium blue with gold stars in geometric patterns. Much lighter than the jacket that was almost purple.
“I like the shirt,” Pierre admitted, “so much so I’m thinking of having you make a couple more of similar design. I’d forgo the jacket to show off the shirt.”
“I’d glare at you for that. Take it off or just open it up later in a less public setting, but not in a club. Would you take your suit jacket off back home in a fancy restaurant?”
“No,” Pierre admitted. “It doesn’t need a tie?”
“Nobody wears a tie here,” Cindy insisted. “I’ve tried to sell scarves and can’t get anybody to go for them either. If I wanted you to wear a tie I’d have given you a proper collar to show it off correctly.”
Pierre hadn’t thought on that. The shirt had an odd zipper hidden under a placket, and was open at his neck.
“But a few people wear capes,” Eric piped up.
“But not with a short jacket,” Cindy insisted. “He’d look like a foolish bullfighter who forgot his sword and montera hat.”
“I never knew what that was called,” Pierre admitted.
“Fashion has as much endless lore as any other specialty,” Frank said.
“Indeed, I once knew a woman whose doctoral dissertation was on the all the cultural variations of grass skirts,” Cindy said.
“Alright, I yield to your expertise,” Pierre agreed. “Make me two more patterned shirts and plain pants on the same pattern, please, suitable to wear without a jacket if I so choose. You may pick the colors and embellishments. I could wear this with Earth style slacks for a lawn party or a private informal dinner,” he said plucking at his sleeve. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it for sale so I would be a bit daring to wear it for my friends back home.”
“That’s how fashion trends start,” Cindy told him punching instruction in the auto-tailor, “though most often trends are started by people who have the skills to make their own things. We’re done then, when the machines finish your shirts.”
“Thank you.” Pierre offered his new card for his purchases.
“You’ll have to stick it in the port yourself,” Frank reminded him. “It won’t process if your thumb isn’t squarely on the taster pad.”
* * *
Mo arrived at Heather’s door at 1720. He didn’t figure he’d be first and he was right. Dakota was already there as he expected. Jeff, who Mo knew was at Central, and Kurt, who had worked for him on quite a few projects, were also there. The surprise was Dr. Holbrook. To be honest, the doctor intimidated him a little. He’d spoken with him twice to help him move and set up some equipment. Mo knew he spent time at Marseille too. The doctor was careful not to speak down to him, but he had a precision to his instructions that impressed Mo.
Having anticipated Heather’s housekeeper would put out treats, Mo had a light dinner. That paid off as they had the sovereign’s private coffee offered up, and pastries with imported flavors such lemon bars and pecan rolls. Mo took as much as he figured he could without looking greedy and saw from his plate that Kurt dove into them pretty heavily.
“I’m going to make a presentation for a large project,” Heather informed them. “Please hold your questions until I put the bare outline before you, because the answers may be coming in what I say next. I don’t have a written outline and I may lose my train of thought. I promise it won’t be so long you forget your questions, and you are welcome to take notes. Jeff and Kurt already know the basics as they are principals in actuating it. However, I’m asking that what I say be held in confidence right now. It will by its nature be public in a matter of months, but until this project is active I ask non-disclosure. Anybody want out?”
“I’m willing to sign such an agreement,” Dr. Holbrook told Heather.
“Doctor, we do things a little differently than the lunar republics. You are not sworn to me, neither are Kurt or Mo. Still I expect loyalty of an employee. As sovereign if you betrayed me, I don’t have to establish it in a court and betraying me is betraying the nation of Central. I am the court of final appeal. If I am very certain you did so willfully I’d just shoot you dead. I’d hate to ask anyone to do the ugly deed for me, but if it took tracking you down in a different jurisdiction to which I don’t want to go, I would farm it out.”
“Fair enough, but it really means something to me to sign something, so that doesn’t really make any difference to me. I’m still in.”
Heather looked around, nobody seemed inclined to head for the exit.
“April made a suggestion for which we have a window of opportunity,” Heather said, crediting her. “We have a superior space drive which will allow us to access the outer system with much more ease and speed than any of the Earth governments can at present. Jeff is in the process of building the second vessel, the Hringhorni, to use this drive. Kurt is a member of the crew, which is in training, and will test the new vessel soon.
“We also have the atomic separator technology which I’m told has been dubbed the French mill. The proposal is we use the new vessel to do a quick survey of the minor planetoids such as Ceres, and establish structures there, if only moon-huts. We should take samples and do seismic testing to determine if we can use French mills and set up a mining operation on these bodies. The suggestion is also to put a radio beacon on them as a sign of ownership. This is just a quick first pass of a week or two, and then the ship is needed elsewhere.
“We hesitate to do it as a strictly commercial enterprise. All of us, we three partners that is, doubt the Earth governments would respect our corporate ownership, so we shall hold them under the color of my sovereignty. Do you have suggestions or questions?”
“You have a working version of the space drive that killed James Weir?” Holbrook asked.
“Similar,” Heather admitted, but was somewhat dismayed how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. Well, she hadn’t invited him because he was stupid.
“Better, if the bloody damn thing doesn’t kill you,” Holbrook said.
That wasn’t really a question so Heather didn’t reply.
“Why don’t you want me as a subject?” Holbrook abruptly asked. “You went to a great deal of trouble to help me remove from Armstrong and continue my work. You just trusted me to join in this project even though I have not yet formally renounced my USNA citizenship or assumed citizenship at Marseille.”
“You haven’t asked,” Heather said plainly. “You still could return to Earth, to another nation if North America isn’t to your taste. You could align yourself with Marseille or likely be accepted as a French citizen and live there. You have skills and many options. Most of the people sworn to me have done it for safety, in the early cases because they were literally running for their lives. I don’t ask people to swear to me unless they want to.”
“I want nothing to do with Earth, and while Marseille is pleasant, and I’d like to continue working with them, they still have a tie to Earth that makes me distrust my future to them. May one swear, not from fear, but because this is where the action is and I want to live here? Even if you kicked me out I have no desire at all to go back to Earth,” Holbrook said.
“Yes, that’s plenty of reason,” Heather agreed. “Kurt also asked to swear to me and I have neglected giving him an answer. I sent him off on a mission where it was better not to be sworn to me so they couldn’t pressure him to act beyond his authority. But he deserves an affirmative answer now. I’d propose we have a ceremony tomorrow and not interrupt this meeting to do it today. It deserves some pomp and a dinner not just a tray of pastries. Is that agreeable?”
Kurt just nodded, Holbrook said yes.
Mo looked very uncomfortable. “May I speak?”
“Of course,” Heather allowed.
“I’m aware I could swear to you and still be a citizen and voter at Home. I’d love to ask, but my home life is unsettled. My wife will not consider coming here. Otherwise she seems to have come to terms with living at Home, but I have no desire to seek work at Home and return there.
“I don’t want to swear to you if I can’t answer your call to do whatever is needed. Right now I have no idea what I’ll need to do. I visit Home between tours here, but it doesn’t feel like a stable solution, long term. If I’m the only obstruction to speaking freely here, I’m not irreplaceable, I’d gladly withdraw.”
“Leave things the way they are for now,” Heather told Mo. “I can’t imagine anything I can’t reveal to you unsworn. There are things you can’t do for me, and things in which I may not be able to act for you as your sovereign, but that has nothing to do with what we are considering tonight.”
Mo nodded agreement and leaned back, somewhat mollified.
“The composition of the bodies won’t be known until the survey is taken, but we know French mills will have to work in lower temperatures and weaker gravity. I don’t think the old Ceres lander data is of much use since they only sampled inside one crater in the polar region,” Heather said.
“And surface composition only,” Mo said. “But if you are talking a week or two you aren’t going to be drilling any deep holes either.”
“Or even checking that many points on the surface,” Dr. Holbrook added.
“Ceres is just big enough to have been pulled into an almost spherical body by its own gravity, the smaller bodies less so,” Jeff said. “I suspect their surfaces will be less smooth than our lunar environment. Carrying a French mill on a tracked vehicle may be impractical. However, on a small body with low gravity a walking type chassis may be very practical.”
“Could you whip up some designs?” Heather asked.
“I don’t really need to,” Jeff said. “There are some fairly robust designs made to work at a full G so all I need to do is remove some excessive weight from the design and make sure the joints and actuators will work in the cold. The technology is mature enough we don’t need the latest designs. Battlefield mules or fire and rescue bots from ten or fifteen years ago are fine basic designs.”
“Oh, those things. They creep me out,” Dakota said.
Heather’s immediate thought was, so does Kurt, but that was hardly a helpful thing to say. It did finally dawn on her that Dakota had a lot of aversions.
“Is your intention, after this survey mission, to use this Hringhorni, for an attempt at a first extra solar voyage and return?” Dr. Holbrook asked.
“No, it’s too late for that. It’s been done, a couple times,” Heather informed him. It was probably a character defect that she enjoyed how much it shocked him. But he didn’t seem unbelieving at all, which was even more satisfying.
“Well, you certainly aren’t glory-hounds,” Holbrook allowed
“Our game plan is to go far, go fast, and plant our flag on as much of the best real estate as we can find before the Earthies even know we are out there.” Jeff said. “I don’t care about glory and headlines. I don’t even care if history ever corrects the Earth perception of things in the end.” But after he said that a deep frown flashed on his face and he had that detached appearance that said he was somewhere else in his thoughts.
“What?” Heather asked, concerned he suddenly saw a major obstacle.
“I’m going to have to design you a flag,” Jeff said. “It’s traditional.”

Chapter 6
Frank fussed around folding and packaging the clothes Pierre had worn in, while the other pieces were being sewn. Pierre turned down further refreshments, to Eric’s dismay. The fabricating machine had a count-down display and only had minutes to go.
“I’m going to wear this to dinner much later today. I’d change out of it to keep it fresh, and wear one of the casual outfits right now.”
Pierre examined the four pieces critically when they were laid out for his inspection. He examined the seams which didn’t seem to bother Cindy or Frank in the least. “I’ll wear this red shirt, with the yellow and teal boomerangs, and the navy slacks,” he decided, scooping them up. When he emerged from the privacy booth his other items were bagged too, and he told Eric, “I’m done then. Let’s swing back by my hotel and drop these off.”
Cindy looked at Eric and lifted an eyebrow. He hurried to text someone. “No need, Jenifer will be here in a few minutes,” Eric promised.
“That’s part of the service,” Franks said. “Eric handles that for us.”
“Ah, the card did say courier services,” Pierre remembered, “but I assumed you were busy with me.”
“I have people for that. I only carry stuff for a few special customers.”
Pierre raised an eyebrow at that claim. Eric didn’t even notice.
Jenifer appeared at the door at a dead run, but slowed to a walk at the threshold. She was about ten years old Pierre would guess, with a long braid down the middle of her back and a pair of spex that would be a week’s wages for Pierre. She stopped a meter short and gave Eric an abbreviated bow.
“It looks like you already have a delivery to make,” Pierre joked, because she had a sack in hand. Frank was holding his things in a handle bag.
“Your pardon, I was in the cafeteria. I’ll finish my lunch after making your delivery,” Jenifer explained, with a nod that was less than her bow to Eric.
“Thank you,” Pierre said. He was thinking how his nieces might act if they were asked to interrupt their lunch to run a package down the street for hire. Assuming they wouldn’t be arrested and their parents charged with neglect.
Jenifer took the sack from Frank and headed out the door without any more chit-chat. She took off at a run once she was in the corridor. Pierre thanked his new tailors and followed her at a much more leisurely pace.
Outside Pierre questioned Eric. “Their shop looked like something from my childhood. I swear my mother had the same ugly chairs we sat in. The crème wall covering and the lighting fixtures as well, and those robots were silly. Nobody uses them and the automated sewing system obviously doesn’t need them as finishers. I know the owners look old enough to match the décor, but is the shop actually that old? Was Home even in existence when those things were in style?
Eric was a little dismayed that Pierre didn’t get it. “A lot of their customers are of an age with you. Cindy and Frank spent a huge chunk of money to get the right period look to amuse them. The customers like the nostalgia. It reminds them of their childhood like it did you. They name the robots and start telling Cindy stories about when their mother’s house looked just like that while they are being fitted. Did you notice the music they had playing was period too? It’s… I think the word is campy.”
“Oh, I suppose it’s like making an ice cream place look just like a 1890s soda parlor,” Pierre realized, a little embarrassed he hadn’t understood.
“Now that I’d go to,” Eric said. “Somebody should start one on Home.”
“If you would not consider it an invasion of your privacy, how much does a runner like Jenifer make from being a courier?” Pierre asked Eric.
“An Australian dollar a minute rounded up from point to point. The hotel is pretty close, but she won’t complain because most jobs are a lot longer. It’s complicated,” he admitted, “if she had to get a cart I’d pay her until she returned the cart. If she had to go to another ring I’d pay her until she returned to this ring, unless I got her another pickup somewhere. I don’t have rules to cover every possibility, but I try to treat her right. If she doesn’t feel she was treated well I’d hear about it. I’d make it right if she felt that way, otherwise I might lose her.”
“What’s to keep her from offering her services directly to people?” Pierre wondered. “She had on really nice spex so it would be easy to contact her.”
“She doesn’t want to do this every day. Jenifer only makes herself available a day or two a week. Sometimes she skips a week. If she did it on her own she’d have to do it like me and organize a group to have friends on call. That would probably be pretty tough right now because I have most everybody signed up who is reliable and wants to do it. Her brother Iaan works for me too, and if she can’t take a job she’ll recommend him before I call somebody else.
“People won’t keep calling you if they offer a job and you work alone and are busy doing school or are with your family and turn them down often. I have enough people to cover so we’re dependable, most of the time. Though it can get sketchy on the off-shift,” Eric admitted.
“What would people do then?” Pierre wondered.
“If it’s parts or contracts or something really vital that can’t wait for main shift they can call the local agent for UPS and Larkin’s Line. He’ll even get out of bed and run your stuff in the middle of the night, but he charges a lot more to do it than me. I don’t know anybody who will drop a couple hundred bucks to UPS for immediate pick-up and delivery to get a sandwich delivered from the cafeteria.”
“Speaking of the cafeteria, I could go for a light lunch already if you want to go back before we are too far away,” Pierre suggested.
“OK, we’ll beat the rush,” Eric said, “then footies and a haircut.”
“It’s a plan,” Pierre agreed.
* * *
“My guest tonight is French, so please see if you have a nice French Champagne, and reserve it for us,” April requested. “They can get pretty snitty if you offer sparkling wine from Australia or somewhere as Champagne. I’d rather not give him the opportunity.”
“Do you plan to order for him?” Detweiler asked.
“I’d rather not. You can reserve a second bottle if you want to cover all the bases and I’ll release the one you don’t use back to stock.”
Detweiler was looking down, checking something, before he looked back at April. “I checked our menu for this evening. I have a very nice rosé that isn’t too sweet and should work well with just about anything he might order.”
“Even a hamburger?” April teased him.
“If you intend to drink a tenth Solar bottle of Champagne with a three bit hamburger it’s not my place to fault you,” Detweiler insisted. “One might upgrade to the bacon cheeseburger if you are splurging,” he suggested.
“I’ll tell him that if he seems shy to order freely,” April agreed.
* * *
“Back home, people would salute me with this haircut,” Pierre said, examining himself with the help of his pad. That was one thing you couldn’t do with spex, he reflected.
“I’m not sure I understand why,” Eric said, carefully.
“Very short hair is associated with military service,” Pierre explained.
“Anybody who works in a pressure suit keeps it really short here,” Eric said. “Almost all the militia guys are ship people, so I guess it’s the same.”
“The humor is a bit mocking I’m afraid. The upper social classes don’t regard the military with much respect. Many regard them as a necessary evil and a waste of money. The more so now, since the majority of the French forces are committed to the European joint command.”
Eric looked confused. “Why would they agree to that?”
Pierre seemed embarrassed at such a probing question from a child, mostly because he felt the same way, but had to support the policy.
“Probably the only real benefit is it seems to have kept the various members of the Union from going to war with each other for some time now, at least not without kicking one of them out first.”
“Not mine to judge,” Eric decided. “Let’s get you some footies. There’s a machine near the elevators.”
Pierre was glad to drop the discussion too. It was a difficult situation to justify as the foreign minister of France. Life would be easier if only some other high government officials were as flexible as Eric.
* * *
Jeff was alone with Heather after Dakota was the last to leave.
“Tell me what you think of this,” Jeff said, turning his pad to her.
There was a black screen with a pearly disk and four small dots of the same color in the top right quadrant. They were along an arch with the same center as the big central disk.
“What is it?” Heather asked.
“Your flag, it’s the Moon and the four smaller dots are the minor planets you are going to declare under your sovereignty.”
“What about Camelot?”
“It’s actually on the Moon, so it’s included in the big central disk,” Jeff said. “As well as anyplace else you care to claim on the Moon. I’ve been thinking you should lay claim to some of the distant craters we’re putting French mills in too. Maybe put a radio on each one declaring it Central territory even if there isn’t anybody living on site.”
“That’s fine, as long as April doesn’t get a bug to annex Pluto or something. Then this will be obsolete. If we have it plastered all over then you have to go to the trouble and expense to change them all,” Heather said.
“You know, the United States had a similar thing. They used to have a star for each state in the blue field. They started with thirteen in a circle, until it got to be so many, what with Canadian and Mexican provinces, that you couldn’t see them as individual stars from any distance. Then they went to one big star. They pretty much wanted to forget about any autonomy anyway. I was thinking more about extra-solar territories. You could just decree old flags don’t have to be scrapped, but new ones add the dots. They will wear out and be replaced anyway.”
“It’s too much round stuff,” Heather complained. “It looks like you’ve been using it for target practice. Make the little ones diamonds. A flag is symbolic anyway, not literal, or we’d have to size them all to scale. Do that and I’ll buy it.”
“It’s heraldry, sort of, so you’d call them lozenges.” Jeff typed in a few commands and the dots changed to four sided elongated diamonds.
Heather looked at it and thought a bit.
“You intend to actually use this? Maybe hang it out on a pole here?”
“Sure, why not? I’m not sure any nation lacks a flag.” Jeff said.
“That’s fine for blue sky Earthies. But if you hang that against the black lunar sky it’s going to look like the pearly parts are just floating there unsupported. That might be OK, but it won’t look like a flag.”
Jeff didn’t say anything, he just altered the image. A border of the same pale color as the disk appeared, then he narrowed the edge a bit.
“There, what do you think?” He asked when he was satisfied.
“Not bad. Show it to a few other people and if we don’t get any really brilliant ideas to improve it we can go with that,” Heather agreed.
* * *
“Not the ones like socks,” Pierre insisted, “the ones that look like ballerina slippers. What do they call them?”
“The menu calls them flats. I didn’t even remember that. Everybody calls them moon shoes, except the real ones have a special sole that’s grippy pushing back, and slide really easy going forward.”
“How do they do that?” Pierre asked.
“I don’t know,” Eric admitted. “I sort of figured it was nano, like sticky bottoms on duffle bags or the butt of zero G pants. You can check a box off and get plain any-direction sticky soles on the flats too, way cheaper than real moon shoes. This machine doesn’t make those, you have to order them from Armstrong and they’re about fifteen hundred bucks Australian.”
Pierre grimaced. Everything was so expensive here.
“Step on the outlines,” Eric said. “Don’t worry, it’s sanitary.”
There was a bench to allow you to remove what you were wearing without balancing. The menu only offered a dozen colors and finishes, and no patterns. Pierre picked the black suede with a charcoal sole, non-skid but not grippy. They would work fine with all three of his outfits. He’d pass on semi-slick for dancing, and didn’t think he’d need insulated.
The machine asked him to step up and down a couple times. After he complied it showed him a picture of his intended purchase and indicated three currency choices. They were three hundred forty Australian dollars, and Pierre remembered Cindy and Frank would have charged him much more, so maybe the specialty soled moon shoes weren’t that outrageous.
He made sure his thumb was on the taste square and stuck his card in the machine. It only took about four minutes to make them and they appeared in a alcove when a door lifted. The screen invited him to try them on and report if there was any problem with them.
They slipped on fairly easily, although the inside had a bit of a rubbery feel to them. There was a zipper in the back at the heel with an impossibly tiny disk to zip it. The disk however had very sharp diamond checkering and lifted easily. Once run all the way to top you could feel a distinct detent when you pushed it down against your heel. The slipper didn’t feel anywhere near as soft as he’d expected. It was very much like a favorite pair of boat shoes he owned, but better.
Pierre was going to ask what to do with his shoes and socks, but when he turned around Eric had Jenifer standing there with a bag to take them.
“You think of everything,” Pierre complimented him.
“Not nearly, that’s how I feel about April,” Eric said, “but thank you.”
* * *
Albert Hass of INTCEN dutifully took the joint report from CiS and Auditing. They earnestly urged him to investigate what was happening on Mars. Their concerns were reasonable and insightful. He agreed and intended to do so.
It amused him they implored him to hurry because the next supply mission to Mars was assembling and he needed to make arrangements to get an agent sent before there was another six month delay. Did they really think they didn’t have anyone keeping an eye on an entire planet? There would be an agent to watch the Martians, and another, to watch the watcher. Not from INTCEN proper, but a smaller much more exclusive branch of that agency. A Department kept far enough from public view that these bureaucrats certainly would never have cause to know it by name. Indeed, beyond a name and channel to inform them, Hass knew little about the shadowy department himself.
* * *
Eric instructed Pierre in the mapping software, and guided him in using it to find his way to several features of Home that were actually interesting. He felt somewhat confident he understood it now. It was getting late enough Pierre Broutin felt a little pang of hunger. He’d had a light lunch on purpose, both to be hungry for supper and not to impose on Eric’s hospitality unduly. “Am I going to make you miss supper with your own family?” Pierre worried. “Will they be upset?”
“No, it’s better for me. My dad is on the Moon right now and won’t have leave for another week. My sister is working on a commission and won’t be home until later than your reservation. I’d rather not be home alone with mom, because she will pick at me without Lindsey for a buffer. Of course Lindsey says the same thing. We’re always better off with both of us facing her. I still have to sleep some hours at full G for medical reasons so I might not even go home tonight.” That wasn’t strictly true, but it was far too complicated to explain to Pierre.
“I didn’t mean to pry into personal things,” Pierre apologized. “I’m sorry you don’t get along well with your mother. I never had much opportunity to be at odds with my parents. They were very busy and I was pretty much raised by nannies and tutors. When my parents traveled and vacationed they never took me or my brother along. Then I went off to private school and college. I knew the servants better than them.”
“My mom is OK. She let my dad get us off the Slum Ball didn’t she? But she has a lot of Earth Think she can’t let go.”
Pierre didn’t want to touch that with double gloves, so he changed the subject. “I need to get back to my room for a shower and to dress. Do you want to get a snack along the way to carry you over ‘til your supper?”
“No thanks. Once I deliver you I’m going over to the Barracks and have a cheeseburger. You need to be seriously hungry to finish one of Cheesey’s burgers and fries,” Eric said.
“Where are these Barracks?” Pierre wondered. It sounded military.
“That’s the zero G housing floating off a few kilometers,” Eric said, with a wave that didn’t really try to point at it, but just defined it as elsewhere. “It’s another thing Jeff came up with, but he’s just a minor partner. He really doesn’t like them to be called that, but shame on him for not naming them something that would catch on. Some of the people raised on Earth who didn’t want them built at all, tried to tag them as The Projects, but it didn’t take.”
They had been chatting all day, but Pierre was quiet walking to the Holiday Inn, mulling over some of Eric’s disquieting assumptions.
When they arrived at the Holiday Inn Eric marched right up to the desk.
“My courier dropped off a couple packages for Mr. Broutin. I’m guiding him today.” The clerk nodded and put his things on the counter.
“You don’t have to come in,” Pierre said, alarmed. “I can take those things.”
Eric regarded him with a puzzled expression. “If you need your privacy,” he allowed with a shrug.
“On Earth I’d be arrested for taking a minor in a hotel room,” Pierre said.
“Earth Think,” Eric grumbled, disgusted. “The clerk knows me and I know you aren’t a creep. That was obvious. But do whatever makes you comfortable.” The clerk had already turned away and was pretending not to hear. Eric went to one of the lobby chairs and got a pad out to read while he waited. Pierre was going to be uncomfortable either way now, so he went with what was familiar.
* * *
Markus, head of the Committee on Public Order, informally know among their own as Marduk's Holy Guard, told his directors. “INTCEN has given us multiple reports of irregularities in both supply and personnel on Mars, at a level that suggests a broad conspiracy with political motivation. Paul, I believe you have assets in place?”
Paul touched the pad in front of him on the conference table. “We have two full agents, number 71 and number 103. 103 is an Eye of Enki. 103 is assigned general intel collection tasks, and 71 to watch him, each unaware of the other’s status. There are also two secondary sources who are paid, and think they are working for the Turks and the Russians.”
“I’m sending you the file,” Markus told Paul. “That an investigation exists is sufficient at this time for the rest of you. If you see anything unusual related to Mars direct it to Paul through me.”
* * *
“Look me over,” Pierre asked of Eric. He was nervous and irritated with himself for being nervous. April was a partner in a spacer business and there were other routes and sources for France besides her and her partners. That’s what he kept telling himself, rationally. But there was the L1 limit and such a long list of dead ships. She’d made a deep impression on him clear back when she was only fourteen, maybe even a couple months shy of that, he corrected himself. She had a presence in person that was hard to explain to others.
Pierre had been lobbying Joel his boss for years, even before Joel became Prime Minister, for France to have closer relations with Home. His boss had joked way back at his first report about April and her partners that he should have a better gift in hand than his used cufflinks the next time he saw April. He had that in his pocket now, but it had been a harder sell than he’d expected to have France pay for it.
Despite it being his idea, Joel now objected that one gifted heads of state, not teenage girls. Pierre pointed out Heather was a head of state, April her peer, and his likely conduit of influence to Heather. Sylvia, her mother never seemed keen on a closer relationship. He felt he knew April a little, Heather much less, and Jeff not at all. If he hadn’t been funded, Pierre would have bought his own gift, but even though he wasn’t impoverished he didn’t have the resources a nation could afford to toss away as a trivial gesture.
“Cindy really made you look good,” Eric reported after doing a walk around. Pierre had been looking for a report about a stray bit of fuzz or a clinging thread to be remove, much less than Eric’s broader assessment. Nevertheless he nodded his thanks to Eric for the inspection.
“Let’s go to this club if it isn’t too early. I don’t want to be standing waiting for her to show,” Pierre said.
“April won’t play status games with you, like being fashionably late,” Eric said. “I know about that kind of thing,” he said, because he saw Pierre’s surprise. “If you arrive first, her Maître d’, Detweiler, would just seat you or invite you to sit at the bar. Nobody would think they scored any points one way or another.”
“Since you don’t go to clubs yet, how is it you’ve come to know the workers?”
“They have stuff couriered all the time. I’m not a customer, but I see stuff go in the back door all the time, the same for the other big club, the Quiet Retreat, and a few other places in beam-dog country that don’t officially exist.” Eric said.
“But nothing seems to be illegal here, so why would they hide?”
“People still have sensibilities. No reason to rub their noses in it if they would be offended by openly advertising. I suppose somebody might even call them out. Folks whose tastes are in the minority find dark clubs just fine. I suspect that may be part of the attraction, that they are told about them by friends instead of an ad in What’s Happening. They pay just as well for couriers. That’s all I care about.”
That seemed remarkably pragmatic to Pierre from such a young man.
* * *
“Messier Broutin, to guest with Miss Lewis,” Eric announced to Detweiler at the entrance to the Fox and Hare. Pierre was still staring at the sign hanging in the corridor. He knew the motto was a German idiom, but liked it anyway.
“Mr. Detweiler will take good care of you,” Eric said. “I’ve enjoyed working with you. Good evening to you.”
“Yes! Thank you, Eric.” Pierre snapped his attention back to the moment, from gazing at the sign. “Here, a little something extra for you,” Pierre offered, holding out several of the bits.
“No, thank you, I’m the owner and working for April, so I wouldn’t feel right to take a tip. If I pleased you, consider hiring me in the future,” Eric suggested.
“I certainly will,” Pierre promised. “I kept your card.”
When Eric walked away Detweiler was waiting patiently. He motioned to a hostess and then the reservations desk, getting a nod back from her. Apparently they had just reversed roles and he was seating Pierre personally instead of handing him off to her. That made him feel special for an instant, but then he realized the extra care was probably for April and not him.
“Your hostess is present, if you’d follow me,” Detweiler suggested.
The club was smaller than he expected. The lighting was subdued and there was music on but one had to strain to hear it. It was slightly below the threshold at which he could identify it. There was no taint of tobacco or cannabis, though he’d been told neither was illegal on Home. When they were most of the way across the room he realized there wasn’t any odor of perfume either.
April was seated on the upper level in a high backed banquette around a half round table. It was cantilevered from a post on the outside edge to leave you foot room. It could seat the two of them facing each other face to face if they sat to the very edge. There was room for a third person facing outward, but four would have to be very friendly with each other. April was tucked to the back somewhat so she was facing outward a bit instead of near the edge.
Pierre took the oppose side and did like April sliding in until the seat curved, but not crowding her. The upholstery was leather, and with the half gravity made sliding in easy. That let him see the stage without awkwardly craning his neck and April was likewise an easy glance to the side.
“Monsieur Broutin,” April acknowledged with a nod.
“I believe you’re grown enough to call me Pierre,” he offered.
“Fine if you’re comfortable with that now,” April agreed. “You have not changed in appearance from what I remember, but I see you have a different tailor.” She couldn’t suppress a smile at that.
“Your guide, Eric, was very helpful. He took me to Cindy and Frank. I am informed they have your custom also. I didn’t want to be so glaringly obvious as an outsider. You don’t look all that different yourself, but it is mildly disquieting. You look a year, perhaps a year and a half older at most, and I still somehow had you pictured in my mind to appear much older. I suspect Eric would label that Earth Think,” he said ruefully.
“You didn’t search and find web sources and gossip sites to get a current image? I’d have thought your own department would have assembled a file on everyone who you’d expect to deal with, or requested one from your intelligence people to provide one before you came up,” April said.
“Joel is playing these cards very close to his chest,” Pierre said. “Indeed he has been very candid that he hasn’t told me every detail. So I cannot be read with facial and biometric software to analyze my every twitch and blink to key words.”
“Oh, you’re a buffer,” April understood that.
The server appeared and asked if they would like a drink menu or an appetizer menu. “Both please,” April responded.
They were handed a printed blue sheet and a white sheet instead of a display. It was dated today and lacked any illustrations. One of the beer selections was already crossed out. It wasn’t all that limited however. Who really needed more than two kinds of scotch? Broutin thought.
Pierre was delighted to see April was wearing his old gift of pale green champlevé cuff links when she lifted her menu. He’d had no idea what to expect, from the black militaristic outfit that had made her famous with Earth teenagers to an elegant gown. Unlike either, she was wearing a brilliant white shirt with a Mandarin collar and a collarless dark green quilted vest with piped edges.
She had spex much like his, though he couldn’t really tell one sort from another at a casual glance. They were set clear, and he’d noticed quite a few people put a tint on them. That seemed rude to him when one was with company. He hadn’t even bothered to learn how to do that yet.
Behind the spex were earrings that took his breath away. They were Emeralds as big as the end of his thumb hanging below triangular diamonds that were respectable all on their own. They weren’t of the flawless sort of perfection that said they were lab grown, they were mottled with inclusions one expected in a natural stone, the sort that would be worth a fortune in a matched pair. He was suddenly very happy he had something worthy in his pocket. He’d never have been able to personally spend enough to compete with that sort of gem. They would bring the cost of a fancy resort home if they were offered at Christie’s.
“You still wear the cuff links I gave you,” Pierre noted with a smile.
“Yes, I really do, and it’s not like setting the picture your aunt gave you out when she comes to visit and then hiding it in storage until the next time.”
“Also, those are magnificent earrings,” Pierre had to compliment her.
“My grandmother’s,” April said, but looked sad.
“An inheritance? It seemed to sadden you,” he said, regretting he’d said anything, and trying to sound suitably sympathetic.
“It’s complicated. My grandparents gifted us with items although they are still living. They wished to keep them in the family and perhaps keep the Australian government from seizing some of them. These were given to my brother but he’s deceased and I inherited them from him.”
“Ah, I had no idea, my condolences.” Pierre didn’t pry further, and wished suddenly he did have a comprehensive report, a cheat sheet such as she expected, for dealing with her, listing every known relative and idiosyncrasy. He’d put offering his gift off until the mood wasn’t so melancholy.
The server returned and Pierre hadn’t even looked at his menu sheets.
“I’ll have the watermelon-berry-mint slush with vodka and bring us a big appetizer assortment,” April ordered, “enough for four people.”
“That sounds rather interesting. I’ll try that drink too,” Pierre said, happy to have an out without everyone waiting for him to search the sheet. He noticed the server didn’t ask if anyone else was joining them. Hopefully he could share some appetizers, since they didn’t ask what he was having.

Chapter 7
Agent 103 recorded the every other day movie they received from Earth off the MarsNet. He never voted on the requests, to avoid showing any particular interest in which one was selected. His computer extracted any news and instructions using specialized steganography software. His exclusive government created program carefully avoided any of the known signatures of commercial or free versions. Usually he got a simple, “No news – carry on.” message in the first minute of the lead before the main feature.
This time it worked away until ten minutes into the movie. That produced an unusually long document to read. It described all the inexplicable oddities the logistics software was unable to reconcile with reality, and the pattern of people returning to Earth earlier than expected. It was so detailed, he’d read it again later, but he used the back door into the local administrative computers to do and cover up a search right now. The sort of detailed search, with multiple branching inquiries, that couldn’t be hidden in the bandwidth of traffic to and from Earth. Besides which the lag in communications due to human altering of the search parameters could stretch it into weeks of processing.
The results were very grim. He’d summarize them in a report, but he had been given no way to send a document back as detailed as he’d received, which it would have to be to prove what he’d found. He hoped they trusted his judgment and analytical abilities without extensive proofs. He composed a message and inserted it into a regular report that was watched on Earth.
Further analysis of local data suggests 94% certainty that in addition to forcing early returns, some person or organization has engineered selective homicides. These all appear as an increase in outside deaths clustered around the end of the first year of service on Mars. It had no effect on the high rate of accidental deaths in the first ninety days of residence. The most likely number of additional fatalities is three +/- one. I will investigate further. Since I am in a third tier administrative position with no reason to ever engage in outside activities, be aware my own death in this manner would likely be a homicide and a confirmation of my analysis. Expect more data to follow, as I am able to investigate the cited material diversions deeper. – 103
Agent 71 got a much simpler message embedded in the French audio track of the same movie.
Your assigned target will likely change his level or pattern of activity, if this becomes apparent to you from local observation advise us how and why. If it is within your ability to hide such an error on his part do so. No other changes.
* * *
The appetizers arrived not far behind the drinks. Pierre expected the drink to be a feminine frou-frou cocktail, cloyingly sweet and perhaps in a novelty container or with a cutesy prop such as a tiny umbrella. Instead it was tart and strong with only a sprig of mint as a decoration. The large tumbler in which it arrived was not cool to pick up. It was insulated to keep it a slush, so the last part was as enjoyable as the start. It was strong enough that he intended to nurse it along until he had some of the appetizers in him.
“Are you comfortable with your new clothing?” April asked. “I found your previous business attire as exotic as you probably find your new outfit.”
“Oddly, the shoes are the most difficult to stop thinking about. I have a pair of very old boat shoes that feel similar, but they are worn to the point of being unpresentable. It’s almost like being out and about town in your socks. We just aren’t accustomed to our feet feeling so unprotected in a public place.”
The radishes were cut to look like rose buds and the thick cucumbers slices were seeded and then stuffed to look like sushi. The fried breaded balls with a toothpick through them turned out to hold a spicy meatball, and the deviled eggs all had a Greek olive or pearl onion pressed into the yolk. Everything was good.
“You said you were going on to Central. Do you intend to speak to Heather when you visit there, or just scope out the lay of the land before going on to Marseille?” April wondered.
“I hope to speak with the Sovereign and go to Marseille in time too. I’d hoped you would give a favorable report and encourage her to receive me, if she is not disposed to receive foreign dignitaries. I was told there is no ambassador from any Earth nation at Central,” Pierre said. “Is that coincidence or by design?”
“From Heather’s end I know she has not excluded them. I can’t imagine she would, except perhaps China. They gifted her with a megaton love tap that left her one hell of a big, slightly radioactive, crater to backfill. Of course they paid for that with an entire fleet of spacecraft, so perhaps she’d call it even and see if they have learned any manners. I seriously doubt you need me to speak to Heather. She holds court once a week and anybody can walk in and plead their case or ask her to arbitrate conflicts. However I want to go to Central soon myself, so if you wish to ride along you are welcome to do so.
“From the other end, I’m a very poor person to ask about Earth nation motivations. They are all a continuing mystery to me. I have my own history of not being able to come to an agreement with Earthies. Witness how I pleaded with North America to stop shooting at my partner Jeffrey most recently, and the military told the civilian traffic controller to stop accepting crank calls from any child with a pocket phone.
“I doubt that particular jackass is still alive since I removed the base shooting at Jeff from existence. There’s a shallow valley there now from the overpressure. I was sorely tempted to expend another weapon and give California a nice new bay on the Pacific, but refrained.”
“Yes, we were of course aware of that.” Pierre said. “North America of course claimed the video footage you released and the audio of the disrespectful fellow was faked, but I found it entirely believable. Our intelligence identified him from older public records too.”
“Did they find any traffic from him after the bombardment?” April asked.
“No,” Pierre admitted.
“Good,” April said.
The server returned to take their dinner order, saving him from an awkward silence, because what could you say to that? The new sheet was pale green and had one side fairly filled with print.
“I’ll have the filet seared to a black crust on the outside and blood red in the center. The garlic butter over it, a double of new potatoes with sour cream, and whatever veggies you have today stir-fried with a little crunch left in them. You have a bottle of Champagne reserved for us,” April informed the server.
“I can’t improve on that,” Pierre said with a theatrical flip of his hands.
The server just nodded an acknowledgement and disappeared.
Pierre was about to say something again when a gentleman approached closely and leaned in from the edge of the table to take April’s hand. He did a remarkably stiff little bow and lip brushed her knuckles.
“We have not seen you for a couple weeks, Grandeza, and now here you are in the company of this scallywag. Everything is well I hope?” he asked with a grin and a sparkle to his eye.
Pierre was taken aback. The fellow obviously knew him, but he could not place the fellow. He should know him but it was a blank. He knew that nose…
“Ha! I’ve stumped you I see. Think of a long boring receiving line,” he invited, putting on a neutral mask and offering his hand mechanically.
“My God, James, you’ve had the full program and look like a freshman college student!” Pierre said, staring in astonishment.
“Perhaps a recent graduate,” he said modestly. “One feels better too. I very much recommend it, if that’s not already why you are here.”
“I’m on a quiet diplomatic mission for Joel,” Pierre admitted. “If I did what you suggest I couldn’t return to Earth easily.”
“Another good idea,” James agreed, with a huge smile. “Though one wishes it were possible to do vacations. I do miss skiing, and there’s nowhere here at all to keep a decent pony. But I have to return to my party. Now that I see you aren’t playing the secret agent with her.”
“I don’t have it in me,” Pierre said in his defense. “I’m not devious enough.”
“A terrible fault,” James agreed, and turned away with a wink at April. He went around the upper level back to a bigger table across the room.
“And Elena!” Pierre exclaimed, when James rejoined his table.
“Well of course, they adore each other,” April said.
“I don’t understand,” Pierre said. “James has abdicated the throne. How could he confer a title on you?”
“He didn’t. I told him I was a peer of Heather and a close personal friend. He said Grandeza is what would be the equivalent in Spain. Nobody else has ever used that form to address me. But I’d had a few other people pick titles with which they were more familiar to address me. It’s all silly. Anyone can respect you without a title and nobody in their right mind would think better of you for that alone. A bit and a title will get you a decent cup of coffee.”
“I paid forty dollars Australian just the other day,” Pierre remembered.
“That’s pretty pricey. It should have been special.”
“I was a captive audience. It was on the shuttle from ISSII,” Pierre said.
“Oh! Old Man Larson’s ship. It’s a wonder then it wasn’t sixty bucks.”
“Who are the royals with?” Pierre asked. “The woman looks familiar.”
“Ex-President Wiggen,” April supplied, “and her husband Ben. He’s a writer. They seem to be a set now.” At Pierre’s raised eyebrow she added, “Four square,” holding her hand up to him and slightly spreading the fingers and bringing them back together snuggly two times. “Not that anybody has said anything to me, it’s just a personal observation.”
“Indeed, may James and Elena find joy in everything they find up here. They certainly got treated shabbily enough by their own in Spain.”
“I may have to reappraise you as a reservoir of Earth Think,” April allowed.
“We are not homogeneous in thought at all,” Pierre protested. “Not even within Europe if you get to know the variations within western civilization. I can easily find you Frenchmen who could not abide living in Sweden or Greece.”
“I’ve dealt with North Americans more,” April admitted, “and the Chinese might as well be space aliens for all I can figure them out.”
Their server returned with a roll-along ice bucket and decanted the bottle. He made to present it to April but she motioned for him to let Pierre approve it.
Pierre looked impressed, and told their server it was excellent. April was waiting for him to ask what it was, the towel obscured it, but after all her effort to make sure it was French, he never asked. Apparently he wasn’t a wine snob.
Dinner arrived with a helper to their server and he waited until they indicated everything was satisfactory before leaving.
“This is quite good, thank you,” Pierre said, and went back to it. He made some serious progress on it before he took a break and looked around.
“There’s Sylvia, Heather’s mother that is,” he said surprised.
“Yes, she just got back from New Las Vegas,” April said. “They came in and were seated about a thousand calories ago.”
“I’d tried to tell her I was coming but couldn’t even leave a message.”
“She’s an eccentric,” April admitted. “She’s told me she won’t be a slave to her com. She won’t forward them and just turns it off if she’s away so she doesn’t have to sort the messages later. Even during the war with North America she never made her politics clear to her daughter or us. I know she’s active, but it all happens behind the scenes at a personal level. How she can keep connected and go incommunicado periodically is a real mystery to me.”
“You don’t like mysteries do you?” Pierre asked.
“Touché.”
“Who is she with over there?” Pierre wondered.
“The other couple is my next door neighbor in Hawaii, Diana, and my body guard, who we call Gunny,” April said. “The fellow sitting closer to Sylvia is the local Registrar of Voters who conducts our Assemblies, Eduardo Muños.”
“Ah, well there’s one of her political connections for you then,” Pierre said.
“Maybe, but I think you’ll find other connections are present. I’m pretty sure they are just like the other foursome two booths over,” April said.
“Oh… then I probably shouldn’t try her com again,” Pierre decided.
“Not unless you want to commission a sculpture. Sorry,” April added.
“Is this some trend on Home?” Pierre wondered.
“I haven’t taken a poll,” April said. “I sort of assumed it happens everywhere, but in say, North America they would be actual criminals.” She was just happy he nodded and dropped it, and didn’t start asking about her relationships. That wasn’t going to happen, but it did make her start wondering about the dynamics of it. Jeff and Heather didn’t seem to find their partnership unbalanced.
Their server poured the last of the Champagne. Filling April’s glass and draining the bottle gave Pierre a scant glass, and then he went away again since they were still eating. April expected Pierre to want details about Diana and Gunny, but he went right past that with no apparent interest.
“When were you thinking of going to the Moon?” Pierre wondered.
“Let me see what is available,” April said, and pulled a pad out. “Eddie, do you have a ship going to Central soon? If not do you have anything sitting idle? Do you have anybody to bring her back so I can stay? Fine that’ll work,” April said and terminated the call.
“The day after tomorrow, we will take Eddie’s Folly to Central with a light load of carbon waste, UPS packages, and no passengers. He has a pilot to bring it back so I don’t have to worry about returning it.”
“You mean you’re going to fly it?” Pierre asked.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I? I need to keep my hours up to stay qualified.”
“How qualified are you?” Pierre asked.
“Dual certificates, orbit to orbit and powered landing,” April said. “I have qualifications I can’t even tell you,” she said, remembering her jump experience.
“I’ve never had the luxury of a private space craft,” Pierre said.
That sounded better. April was starting to think he didn’t trust her.
“May I offer you dessert?” their server asked.
“Not me,” Pierre declined.
“I’d like the double chocolate brownie with pecan butter ice cream, and a pot of coffee. You’ll have coffee too won’t you?” she asked Pierre.
He looked absolutely stunned, but managed a “Yes.”
“It’s the gene mods,” April explained. “I burn it up.”
* * *
Agent 103 wasn’t picked for political reliability and following orders. He had a type 3 intelligence in the 160/180 range of the revised Rothman Intelligence Scale. He had a doctorate in mathematics, had done original work in Game Theory, and held minor degrees in Systems Engineering and Economics. He was capable of innovation while operating independently. He even sang well. That sort of person often found a way around orders they didn’t like. They not only thought they were smarter than their boss, they were usually right. Nobody could stand him to work with him, so an isolated posting was good for everybody. When he was role playing, pretending to be a normal person instead of himself for a mission, he was much more tolerable. Asking him to put that false façade on between missions would be awkward.
Agent 71 was the safety brake on 103’s actions his handlers felt necessary to have in place for their own safety. Otherwise people on that end of the Rothman scale tended to overthrow governments, including their own, and create megaweapons if left unsupervised. It took a certain level of bravery to use someone smarter than yourself who was out of your direct physical control and observation. 71 was much more the loyal drone and would remove 103 without compunction if ordered to do so.
103 knew 71 had to exist, but made no effort to discover him. The very act of discovery might be seen as disloyalty by his handlers. Intelligence agents were paranoid by definition. Worse they might go to the trouble to set another safety in place without removing 71. Discovering 71 was simply one of those contingency plans in his mind he never expected to use. If he needed to do so it would be a great deal of trouble but he had confidence he could do so. That would involve removing all the access to the local administrative data net he had been given, and activating the unauthorized one of his own making he had in place ready to go. The other agent, he assumed was in place to watch him, probably shared at least elements of that back door, so cutting him off from being able to follow 103 that way would start the clock running to find and eliminate him or die trying.
The problem he was handed was entirely sufficient for the moment. The data given him indicated there was a secret. Also since it involved transport it had to involve location. Now, the next question of analysis was did it involve multiple locations or one? The simplest solution would of course be one, and the easiest to solve, so he decided to get that out of the way first before getting into the more complex problem.
In theory, the trip of every rover, not only in exploration, but even repetitious supply runs to established outposts and instrument sites, was logged on MarsNet from day one on the Martian surface. 103 didn’t believe that for a minute, but it was a starting point. He was looking for any trip which went to a distant location and was never officially repeated, or hidden as a waypoint to other sites. These routes followed certain patterns as they matured.
Once a route was mapped as safe the same trip could be repeated much faster. Even if there were sections that needed special caution they could be noted in the log and alerts attached to the map. If they were bad enough alternate sections could be explored rather than a whole new route.
He’d also create an overview map to look for any point that didn’t have a normal density of similar trips surrounding it or extended beyond it. And given how people think, he’d see if there were any areas that had a pattern of trips, there or nearby, canceled. People thought that a trip canceled wasn’t significant, but simply planning such a trip was just as significant as if it had actually been carried out, perhaps more so.
All the historic data was useful, but he also needed a current feed that would document every rover departure and return to check against what was logged. He hated to do that. He’d only deployed recording devices once before, and hadn’t been at all comfortable with the risk. In this case the fact they still had one central repair facility and car park for the rovers, made it easier. When the outposts got big enough to have independent rover garages it would be nearly impossible.
The camera he selected could be adjusted for sensitivity so it would note any rover leaving the gate but ignore pedestrian traffic. It would take a couple frames for each event and time stamp them. Once positioned 103 could interrogate and reset the camera wirelessly just walking by or sitting in the same room. The map of the base showed six ports from which the rover yard could be observed. One was his own office which he rejected. He decided to use two with public access that observed it from quite different angles, as that might yield additional data. By using two he could look out the port from anyplace in the room or corridor having that view, and the chances he’d miss a movement due to a random walk through obscuring the view would be negligible with two in operation.
* * *
April ate every last bite of the large dessert. She was still a fairly slight young woman by Earth standards. Pierre had no idea how she could contain it. The coffee was better than the cafeteria, but so different than Mr. Larkin’s vending coffee, a direct comparison was pointless. In particular he had a little pitcher of what he mistakenly thought was heavy cream with this serving. Pierre would have loved to know the price point for the club coffee compared to Larkin’s, but it would be gauche to inquire while he was the owner’s guest.
Since he’d unwittingly triggered an unpleasant memory while talking about jewelry with April, Pierre had thought it best to put off presenting his gift until they were journeying to the Moon or later. However, April was so visibly content and relaxed again, that he reconsidered.
The lights had been dimmed and they had a local comedian deliver a short show that was surprising in how lacking in coarse language it was. The audience seemed to appreciate the local references and even he understood a few by context. The lights had gone up again for just long enough to give the servers a chance to freshen drinks, deliver orders, and then dimmed for a couple guitarists who were exceptionally good if they were local talent.
When the musicians took a break and the lights came up again Pierre offered a small velvet case to April. “When relating our first meeting to my Prime Minister some time ago, he very much enjoyed the story and expressed approval of you and your actions. He’s quite the romantic, and sternly charged me with being prepared to gift you with something better than my old cuff links when next we met. Since it was his idea, and I could easily embrace it, I prevailed upon him to let France contribute towards it as a state presentation to Lady Lewis. I hope that doesn’t diminish my credit for it to zero, because I helped make sure it was something that would do you justice.”
April held the case unopened until he had his say. “You seem to have instigated the whole thing, so I’ll credit you with being clever too,” April said, and opened the little box.
The design was unique, which Pierre had insisted upon with the jeweler. That included not using close variations of the design in the future. It was in yellow gold of a rose tint. The problem presented was Pierre didn’t want a design in pavé. He wanted a pair of significant stones. In a pair of cuff links that was a difficult task since they had to stay flat to the cuff to display well, not hang at an angle from their own weight.
The solution was to create a rectangular plate that aligned along the arm on the long side, but had a raised dome in the middle of sufficient depth to hold the stone at the girdle. There was no way to cut a diamond shallow and create the internal reflections needed to make it brilliant. This allowed it to be held at the widest point and the bottom of the stone enclosed. The stones used were about eleven millimeters in diameter which made the required dome shapes to hold them six millimeters high. They projected another four millimeters, and had a combined weight of a bit more than ten carats. Rather than plain polished gold the base plate was granulated in the Phoenician style, within a rolled raised rim, and the surface of the domed part a visually contrasting grid of deeply engraved meridian lines like a globe. The inside plate didn’t try to compete with the outer stones, just echoing the domed design in contrasting platinum.
“They’re beautiful,” April said. “Thank you, and extend thanks to anyone you feel deserves it who acted for France.”
“Joel certainly,” Pierre agreed.
“They are lovely, but these have great sentimental value,” April said, removing the ones she was wearing. She exchanged them from cuff to box. “I will certainly use and treasure both,” she promised.
After two more acts April announced she was ready to call it a night. Pierre felt no personal interest in April’s friendliness, but he entertained some small hope he might get an invitation for a nightcap. He’d at least like to see how a person with her resources lived on Home, but instead she asked if he was confident of his ability to make his own way back to his hotel. He declined the offer of another guide.

Chapter 8
April wasn’t expecting a call from that com code. Lindsey wasn’t working on anything for her at the moment. Lindsey was one of those people who she respected. The girl was a huge reservoir of talent. April had no doubt Lindsey would display even greater artistic abilities as she matured. Even so early in her career she had a huge following and was making serious money.
The fact April had several of Lindsey’s expensive pieces hanging on her walls testified to her appreciation for her talent. Still, for some reason April could not explain, Lindsey in person didn’t excite her the same way her art did. Lindsey had visited April at home and been entertained. There was a very short list of people who April welcomed in her home.
But April had grown restless and wished her visit to end. Lindsey was one of those people who seemed to like April more than April liked them. Most of those unrequited admirers were creepy gossip board stringers and Earthie fan boyz, not people like Lindsey at all.
Lindsey was actually very sweet. She even had her own fandom to keep at arm’s length, and lots of people would be delighted to call her a friend. That thought made April vaguely guilty, and she got a flash of that again at Lindsey’s call. She couldn’t find any reason for her feelings that wasn’t what she would regard as a serious character defect in others. It seemed like something she should fix, if she just knew how. Lindsey was on her second tier com list to at least notify April she was calling, even if she didn’t get an auto-connect. She answered the call rather than let it go to messages.
Lindsey was looking in her pocket pad. That was obvious from the angle and the view behind her that was the top of a bulkhead and overhead. It appeared from the color and finish to be a public corridor. She also looked a bit flipped out.
“April, I’m standing out in the corridor and have no idea where to go or what to do. I have my stuff with me and need someplace safe to take it. Can I come to your place?” she pleaded.
That raised a thousand questions in April’s mind. But it seemed cruel to make her start answering complicated questions standing in the public corridor in distress. No matter what she felt about her, Lindsey was an asset and needed to be protected. “Yes, come to my place, I’m home. Do you need me to send some security to escort you? Are you in any danger?” April worried.
“I don’t think my mom even knows I’m gone yet,” Lindsey answered. “She had to go to work. I went out the door because I had to, but there is no place to rent but hot slots, and I’m scared to trust my stuff to a public locker. I’m not even sure it will fit in one.”
“Come on over then. I don’t have any appointments soon and we can talk and see what can be done for you. I have to go to the Moon tomorrow, but we’ll get you safe and squared away by then,” April promised. It sounded like it was a family issue. If worst came to worst she could bring Lindsey along with her and Pierre and deliver her to her dad on the Moon.
* * *
Pierre had a whole day to kill before April’s promised ride. He thought about unblocking his phone and seeing if anything of importance was happening in his office. It was pleasant however not to be bombarded by issues that should be settled by competent subordinates. He wasn’t entirely sure the speed of light lag to his phone might not be noted as an anomaly by automated systems and raise an alert. In the end he decided just to enjoy today as a vacation day.
He could call Eric to play the native guide again, but he hesitated to remove the boy from his schooling two days in a row. He could find his own way to the cafeteria easily, and then later the place Eric mentioned the day before, Cheesey’s might be fun to try. After a bit of looking he found the mic logo to toggle his spex to audio mode. He still was not proficient with spelling things out with a virtual keyboard. “Map, show a route to Cheesey’s restaurant in the Barracks,” he said. Surprisingly it knew the informal names for places. A green virtual line appeared in translucent overlaid on the floor appeared in his spex leading to his hotel room door. That amused him. He might have discovered that part of the journey on his own. “Map, close for now,” he instructed, confident it would work for him later.
* * *
April got some tea things ready. Lindsey liked tea better than coffee and she would probably feel better to have something to occupy her hands while they talked. She was upset enough she might have neglected to eat, so April got some cookies out that Gunny hadn’t finished off, for a miracle. Lindsey caught April just out of the shower and she hadn’t had breakfast yet herself. Maybe she should leave her things here and take her to the cafeteria? No, if she was upset she’d probably feel better speaking in private. April ordered breakfast sandwiches and burritos couriered from the cafeteria. If they didn’t eat them, Gunny would.
Could Lindsey even have that much clothing to remove from her parent’s apartment? They were living in Jeff’s apartment as part of her father Mo’s wages. Like most places on Home, there wasn’t room to accumulate a huge closet full of outfits and shoes like Earthies kept, neither did people have a lot of knick-knacks and junk to sit out on display. It just wasn’t the style. Apartments weren’t built with shelves to use for that. Nobody in their right mind would hang them on a bulkhead to encroach on their precious living space. Spacers were obsessively neat to the point that grounders found their quarters starkly bare.
Lindsey arrived at her door just ahead of a young man from Eric’s courier service who had their breakfast things from the cafeteria. April was dismayed to see Lindsey had three foot-locker sized shipping containers on a follow along cart. The sort of composite shell boxes that were a standard size to fit in ship holds and storage lockers. No wonder Lindsey didn’t know what to do with them. She had a big duffle bag on top of the hard containers. That must be the clothing that was all April had anticipated her having.
The courier insisted on helping them bring Lindsey’s things inside. April suspected Eric had given him special instructions to treat them well since he always insisted on serving April and Jeff personally, if he was free. She not only thanked him but gave him a bit for a tip.
“I have tea brewing and the thermo-pack is breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten, have you?” April demanded.
“I’m not hungry,” Lindsey said. “I’m too upset.”
“Of course you are,” April agreed, “but you won’t make good decisions until you calm down a bit. Being pumped full of adrenaline with low blood sugar isn’t going to help you think straight. Now, you’re someplace safe and your stuff is safe, so that’s your first big worries out of the way. I’m going to pour us both some tea, and I want you to take a couple bites of sandwich even though you don’t want it. Consider it medicine for your body’s sake. Humor me. I’m having one just because it’s morning and I’m hungry. Your body would be telling you the same thing if your mind wasn’t in a tizzy. What are all these boxes anyway?”
Lindsey looked surprised she didn’t know. “My only possessions that matter to me to keep, all my notebooks and original drawings and the preliminaries for stuff like… that,” she said, pointing at April’s huge drawing on the wall she’d commissioned Lindsey to create.
“I hope you have it all digitalized and archived at separate locations, so if the originals are ever destroyed it’s not all lost,” April worried.
“Of course, but you know it’s not the same,” Lindsey insisted. “That’s why I have the certificates of authenticity and actively confirm them. Viewing the original is never like seeing the image on a screen. Even if you print it on the same brand of paper, you never get the texture exactly right. Do you want to trade your drawing here for a digital copy?” she asked, nodding at it.
“I’ll keep it thanks.”
April poured tea and took it upon herself to add about as much honey to Lindsey’s cup as she’d seen her do before for herself. It was really dear stuff, pricey even before the freight cost.
“I’m not going to talk until I’ve had a chance to eat a sandwich and have a few sips. I need it if you don’t,” April said. Dear God, she sounded like her mother.
“It’s not that I’m worried about them being destroyed,” Lindsey tried to say around a mouthful of egg muffin. She had to stop and chew. Then she was too dry to talk without a sip. April just looked interested. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t listen. The story came out with April saying little and only occasionally needing to stare pointedly at her muffin and Lindsey would take a bite.
“I’m worried about them being taken,” Lindsey revealed. “My mother started showing interest in my art for the first time. I was happy because she has always made snippy little cracks about what a useless waste of time it was. But she’s not stupid. The interest was a sham. The questions got to what she was interested in pretty quickly. It was how much can you sell these for? I wish I’d never started pulling things out and showing them to her before I realized she was just interested in liquidating them.”
“You mean stealing them,” April corrected.
“That’s such an ugly word to use with your own mother,” Lindsey said, and looked down favoring her attention on her tea for a moment while she thought. “I’m sure in her mind it would not be theft. I’m a child and whatever I have is only because of her. She gave me life and she owns me and I don’t own anything until I reach a magic number of years where her society says I am suddenly infant one minute and adult the next. I still have a year to go for my majority by Earth law. She grew up with that logic and believes it is some kind of natural law.”
“Indeed, most people never understand the customs of their village aren’t the same as natural law,” April agreed. “Even as hard as it is to get to Home and find a place here, Mr. Muños tells me a third of the people never adjust because it’s too big a change. That many go back within about six months.”
“Really? I had no idea it was that many. My mom seemed to be adjusting to life on Home. She got a job and she stopped complaining about things like she did at first. But she never would consider going to the Moon, not even just to look it over. As soon as she thought she might get a chunk of money from me she started saying how we could be very comfortable back on Earth with enough money. Not like before when they were struggling financially.”
“So, if she forced you to return to Earth, she’d depend on you financially for the indefinite future? Doesn’t that seem a bit precarious? I mean, you don’t want to go, and yet she expects you will just forget about being basically kidnapped, and continue to support this arrangement after you do reach your legal Earth majority? That won’t be very long at all.” April gave her a very skeptical look.
Lindsey was calming down enough to start on a second breakfast sandwich without April’s prompting. She ate a little and took a sip of tea, confident April would wait on her.
“It isn’t rational. None of it is. I’m sorry to say my mom can twist things in her mind to come to almost any conclusion she wants. She just expects I’ll do all these things because it’s necessary to what she wants.”
“Well, your presence here kills that theory,” April noted.
“Yes, and she is really going to be so angry when she gets home and I’ve cleaned all my stuff out. I’m still trained enough at keeping her happy to dread it. She’s going to unleash a barrage of nasty messages, trying to make me feel guilty and demand I come right back,” Lindsey worried.
“There’s a block feature on your phone you know.”
Lindsey looked incredulous at the idea.
“Maybe you’re conditioned deeper than you think. Are you going to go back and hand all your stuff over to her if she says the right things?” April asked.
“No way,” Lindsey insisted.
“So why accept the abuse? It won’t help you, and it won’t help her. If you come right down to it, all it can do is waste time and make both of you even more unhappy. Tell me I’m wrong.” April demanded.
“I’m still scared of her,” Lindsey admitted. “I’m afraid she’ll get people to support her to force me back. I’m scared of what she’ll say to Eric and my dad.”
“Haven’t you told either of them what happened?” April asked.
“No, I was in a big hurry to pack and get out.”
“Then I’d sit and compose a short simple message to both of them first thing. Saying your mom wanted to take all your things to sell and you won’t allow it. You don’t have to explain every detail right now. Keep it short and sweet. It wouldn’t be any kindness to let them walk in on her, or get the kind of message you said she’ll send out, with no warning,” April urged.
“Oh God, Eric is going to flip out too. He’s already been avoiding coming home more than me. She has to let him go to the full G sleeping barracks because of his age, so he has an escape. Then, he doesn’t have to come home until she is off at work. She’ll be nasty to him just because he’s there and I’m not. He makes enough money he could eat even if she pulled his cafeteria card. She asked us both to contribute to household expenses and we both do. So she knows that’s not a handle on him. It actually seemed to make her angry we agreed so easily, like she wanted to argue about it. That never made any sense to me either.” Lindsey said, and sat there, still thinking.
April wondered if they contributed, but hadn’t wanted to ask. She had unpleasant memories of her brother, and how he only wanted to take.
“You’re right,” Lindsey said after thinking on it a couple minutes. “I owe a heads up to both of them,” she started keying in a message with a determined look. April refilled her tea.
“And sent, and… blocked. Wow, that was hard to do,” Lindsey said.
“I think you fail to credit the people here, at least the voters, with good sense and fairness. I’d say, if they have the whole story, the Assembly is more likely to vote you your majority than send you back down to the Slum Ball with your mother. Nobody who has toughed it out and made a go of things here will want to force anybody down to Earth except as criminal exile,” April said.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to be an adult,” Lindsey said. “I just don’t see any alternative. It’s not like I can ask somebody to adopt me.”
“There are plenty of people who would be happy to advise you, and help you deal with transitioning to adulthood without a formal adoption,” April assured her. “I know you have a huge community of fans who appreciate your art.”
It’s scary,” Lindsey said. “I’m not sure what will happen with Eric either. I wonder if dad would take him on the Moon if my mom goes back to Earth?”
“How would you feel about taking him if you were voted adult status?”
“We get along now. We didn’t so much when we first came up here. I’ll admit I had to change a lot more than him. Did you know I set off the fire extinguishers in our hotel room the first day we were here? I was just covered with foam and we were kicked out and had to go to the other hotel. My parents made me wait out in the corridor dripping wet so the hotel staff didn’t see me and refuse us a room.”
April couldn’t help herself, she could picture that, and started laughing.
Lindsey looked hurt at first but pretty soon she started laughing too.
“I swear, Eric never did anything that stupid,” she admitted.
“My brother decided to raise mushrooms,” April informed Lindsey. “They grew just fine, too fine. There were spores all through the ventilation systems by the time anybody realized there was a problem. People got a lot better after that, about following the filter service intervals. If you let debris collect in a duct corner somewhere in Home you can still get a volunteer crop of mushrooms. All it takes is one getting to maturity and releasing its spores to perpetuate it. I doubt they will ever eradicate them now.”
“April, if I can’t make any other arrangements, can I stay here tonight?”
“Yes, but I need to go to the Moon tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to leave anybody in my place while I’m gone. I’ve never done that for anybody but Gunny, not even Jeff,” April emphasized. “I have an idea of somebody who might be able to take you for awhile, but I’ll have to ask them. Or I could take you to the Moon with us.”
“Us?” Lindsey asked.
“I have an old acquaintance, a Frenchman, who is visiting, but on a quiet official mission. He’s being a bit mysterious about it, and I believe he thinks I can influence Heather for him.” April stopped and frowned. “I do have influence with Heather, but he’s kidding himself if he thinks I’d use it for him without my own well informed agreement that it’s a good thing. I suspect he underestimates just how much the influence runs back from Heather to me. I can’t be bothered to try to pry out of him what he wants, so I’m taking him to Heather and then I’m sure it will all come out.”
“Wow, you’re up to your neck in power politics,” Lindsey said impressed.
“Ick… I’ll be sure to shower and get it all off as soon as possible,” April quipped. She felt a flash of guilt that she was not reciprocating Lindsey’s trust and friendship as fully as she should, again, but she really didn’t want a roomie with no end in sight to the arrangement. At least Lindsey didn’t seem put off that she didn’t immediately offer boundless hospitality.
“I’d be happy to go to the Moon,” Lindsey agreed, “but I should probably make sure my dad wants me to come visit, and warn Eric I’ll be gone, if he wants to hole up somewhere to avoid my mom’s wrath.”
“Hold off just a little. Let me make a call first,” April said. Sylvia was a bit of a mystery to her still. More so that most people she’d known so long. Diana was no mystery at all, she was just – out there – in every possible way. Since she was guesting with Sylvia, April would feel her out, to see if Sylvia still had room for a third guest in her huge cubic, and would entertain a fellow artist. She called from her pad rather than leave Lindsey to go to the com console. After she punched her com code in April smiled at the irony of it. She was hoping to use Diana just like Pierre was trying to use her.
“Hello Sweetie, is that handsome devil you were entertaining at the club still with you?” Diana leered.
“Why? Were you looking for another husband? Number what? Five? I’ve lost count. I’m not sure how you keep them straight,” April said. “Pierre is a friend but he is cut loose to fend for himself today. I don’t believe for a minute you don’t already know who he is. You’ve probably run a credit check on him and hacked his shoe size off the footie machine net. I should just give you his com code.”
“They do sort of blur together. I carry a cheat sheet if I have to fill out paperwork for something. But I’m kind of tied up evaluating your bodyguard right now. I find it really takes all your attention to treat a man right, which just makes sense, because I expect the same of him. So I’ll pass on Pierre, this time.”
“Actually, I think other arrangements are possible, but I’d rather not compare notes. I’ll admit you have the advantage of experience on me. But be warned, Gunny isn’t filthy rich. Actually, what I’m wondering about is your hostess right now. I have a guest for tonight myself, but of the feminine variety, who suddenly finds herself in the corridors with no place to go, through no fault of her own. Since I am taking Pierre to the Moon tomorrow I’d like to inquire if Sylvia can host another artist for awhile. Is she in a good mood? Do you think we could jolly her into taking another house guest?”
Lindsey looked dismayed at the half of the conversation she could hear.
“She seems content,” Diana judged. “Unfortunately, Gunny has security work to go do, and Muños insists he has overstayed just to lend balance as long as Gunny was here, so we might find a guest amusing in the sudden vacuum. May I ask the identity of this mysterious artist to tell Sylvia?”
“You wouldn’t know her, but you’ve seen her work. She’s the one who did all the pictures on my walls, Lindsey Pennington. You’ve met her little brother, the fellow who has a courier service and has brought us breakfast. One of his people brought your flowers from Muños,” April remembered.
“Oh, he was a little sweetie. He’ll be interesting in about ten years too. So his sister must not be all that old? I’ll ask if Sylvia knows her.” The pad muted for a bit while she consulted. She wasn’t gone long at all.
“Sylvia remembers meeting her at your place a long time ago,” Diana said, “she said she was painfully shy then, and hopes she’s gotten over that. She’s been following her work and started waxing poetic about it. I had to cut her off and ask yes or no, because I can tell when she is going to go on and on. The short form is yes, send her on over. Sylvia would be delighted to talk shop with her and we have an extra room open. Send her in the morning or come on over today, it doesn’t matter. We’ll just be hanging out here.”
“Hold on a minute,” April said, and muted the pad. “Lindsey, would you mind if we transfer you over to Sylvia’s today? I don’t mean to rush you off, but they have an actual room and bed for you. Here you’d either have to double up with me or sleep on the couch. I’ll walk you over and introduce you if you want.”
“Sure, thank you for arranging it. You have amazing resources.”
“Yes, she’s happy with that. I’ll walk her over in a bit and we’ll bring her things,” April promised Diana.
* * *
Pierre enjoyed walking through the corridors without security. The sight of a weapon would have had him diving for the pavement at home, if his security didn’t shove him down first and pile on. He was already getting used to seeing the majority of adults armed. Now it just caught his eye when somebody had a long gun instead of a pistol. That seemed so awkward to carry around.
The fellow that just passed him going the other way had that old but young look he was starting to recognize as an indication of life extension therapy. It was subtle, but it really didn’t look like normal middle age if you saw a number of examples. He himself had a few tweaks and edits, but nothing that would trigger alarms from a superficial scan. He had a few bad genes deactivated that predisposed him to serious disease, and one natural gene suite added that was very beneficial but not to be found in the entire population. Both his parents were safely dead, so they could not be tested to show he didn’t inherit it.
The old-young fellow had an old Mosin, cut down to about half the original barrel length, and with a shortened butt-stock. It was slung for low carry in front of him. Pierre wondered if he had any idea how that would sound, fired in a compartment, or even the wider space of a corridor?
He’d read intelligence reports of how the USNA force that invaded Home had been wiped out, trying to penetrate from either end of the station. It had seemed absurd then, but seeing the state of the populace now he was surprised they’d made it as far as the Holiday Inn. According to the reports and video, the lobby had been pretty much destroyed, but there wasn’t any sign of it to be seen now when he’d checked in.
He seemed to attract less attention now that he had local clothing, though once he got in the zero G dock area he’d seen a couple people smile knowingly at him. He was just glad he got smiles of amusement at his clumsiness instead of hostility towards a foreigner.
When the local shuttle to the Barracks, the unspun local housing, docked a half dozen people got off. The few people waiting to get on didn’t surge forward like he expected, so he waited to see why. A man stepped forward and went to a locker right by the opening inside the craft. He punched in a code on the door pad and extracted a pizza in a thermal box with bright advertising. He nodded a thinks to the crowd for letting him recover it. Pierre had real doubts you could train an Earth crowd to do that at say a subway station.
There were no restraints on the seats, which were spacious, but didn’t recline at all. They might as well have been conventional dining room chairs with arms. When the hatch sealed and they departed the gate the reason became apparent. There was barely any acceleration to be felt. Even so, the count-down timer on the forward bulkhead said they would arrive in less than eight minutes. The seats were all oriented the same way, on one surface and facing the combined entry and exit. It was a very specialized single purpose vehicle.
Pierre wasn’t expecting Cheesey’s to take advantage of the zero gravity to maximize seating. When he arrived it was disorienting and he hesitated at the entry to decide where he wanted to go. There were no rails or lines like at the public docks as a concession to the unskilled. If he jumped across the room to the small table he saw empty and missed, he’d land head first out of control on some other diner’s table.
There were a series of take-hold rings around the entry, which were undoubtedly all the locals needed. He eased inside and turned until he could get both feet flat against the bulkhead on the inside, and then launched very carefully and slowly so he could call out a warning if he was going to land on somebody’s diner. He had a vision of fries and drinks scattered in every direction.
By the time he’d pushed off half the room was watching in anticipation. When he reached the table without disaster and gripped the edge, he got a round of applause and everybody went back to eating. Pierre could feel his face flush.
He was aiming for the table in the center, but was off to one side enough his leap picked his chair for him. He jockeyed around holding the edge of the table until he could push his butt in the low backed seat and wrap his legs around the support like everybody else was doing.
“Don’t feel too bad,” A nearby fellow in a sleeveless shirt told him. The man was upside down to him and he found he couldn’t read facial expressions at all that way. “Six years ago when I came up I couldn’t have done as well. Was this your first untethered flight?”
“It was, and it felt about as far as the trip back to ISSII,” Pierre said. The man’s arms were heavily tattooed, and back home Pierre would never have spoken to such a person. Indeed, if he didn’t cover those arms up he’d be arrested for public disorder in France.
“A valiant first try then. I regret to tell you the custom of the house is to give your order verbally to Cheesey over at the grill. If you want I’ll go put it in for you since it’s a more difficult jump.”
Pierre looked, and apparently the only thing keeping one from flying past Cheesey and landing in his kitchen was a single small pole separating his grills and equipment from the dining area. If this were in Europe, Pierre thought, they would mandate a wire mesh wall across the entire volume with one small pass through window.
“That would be a great kindness if you would,” Pierre allowed. The menu board was easily readable from his seat. “I’d like the Big Cheesy rare with mushrooms and Gouda, the Hot Fries with Lime Aioli, and a plain coffee please.” He scrambled to get some money out.
“Don’t bother,” his benefactor waved it away, “consider me the Welcome Wagon. You do know hot means spicy?” he asked.
“Thank you, I can handle spicy,” Pierre assured him.
The fellow pushed off his seat without touching anything with a hand. He did however have on Japanese style socks with separate toes. When he reached the pole he hooked one ankle around it and grabbed it left handed. He gripped the pole to brake and did exactly one turn around it coming to a stop facing the cook. Pierre saw him hook a thumb back over his shoulder at him, and the cook looked across the room at Pierre and nodded. The fellow came back, recovered his own meal, and joined Pierre at his table, without using his hands which were occupied with his meal. Pierre could hardly object to his presumption at joining him, given his help and charity.
“I took your meaning from context, but I’m not familiar with this welcome wagon concept,” Pierre admitted.
“I’m from Canada. Call me Murphy,” he said.
“Pierre,” he replied.
“When I was a kid, we moved to Montreal and we got a postal letter as soon as we moved in telling us to check a web site. They had all sorts of offers and coupons from local businesses and churches. My grandfather told me when he was a boy in Saskatchewan they actually came around to new people in the town and brought a basket of goodies. Like so many of his stories, I remembered that. They just irritated my mom, and when my dad heard them he often said, ‘That was then,’ like that meant it never was.”
It didn’t escape Pierre’s notice Murphy said Canada, not North America.
“If you work high iron, you get to where you can jump for anything below about five hundred meters by your second year,” Murphy said. “If you can’t figure out that you don’t have the knack of it by then, and won’t ever, they’ll give you a down ticket to clue you in. You can only babysit people so long.”
There was a brief sharp whistle and Murphy looked up. The cook launched a covered basket straight across the room. It would have passed right between them if Murphy hadn’t snatched it. He pressed it against the table and it had a sticky bottom to stay there. His coffee was delayed just long enough for Murphy to place the basket, and then casually grab it from the air.
“Bon appétit,” Murphy said, and went back to his own burger.
“Do you happen to know why the name of our host is C-h-e-e-s-ey. But the sandwich is C-h-e-e-s-y without the extra ‘e’?” Pierre wondered.
“No idea. I think he’s Lebanese, so maybe he didn’t know how to spell it back then, and it would probably be a pain in the butt to change it now.”
Pierre nodded. “English isn’t my first language either.”
“I’m off,” Murphy announced, finishing before Pierre. “See you around if you are emigrating.”
“Thank you. I’m off to the Moon tomorrow,” Pierre said. “It may be awhile before I come this way again.”
“Whenever,” Murphy said, unconcerned. “I’ll be around.”
And that, Pierre reflected, seemed to sum up the local attitude very well, laid back and optimistic.

Chapter 9
Agent 103 found the pattern he was looking for buried in the data. It was not, he had to admit, something that would leap out at you if you weren’t doing a very specific and detailed series of searches. He also had three instances of rovers going out the gate that were not only unlogged, but hadn’t appeared in the global tracking software. That violated a host of safety rules as well as being a major corruption of accounting procedures.
Beside fuel and other consumables the pilfering appeared to be building materials. At first 103 thought a scientific station built in the direction of the anomalies was the actual object of interest. But uncensored photos and lists of supplies for that station made him suspect it had been created as a staging area for the real secret that lay beyond it.
The station wasn’t occupied full time, and the geological discoveries being made there didn’t seem significant enough for the expenditures and the breathless news releases about the work. Indeed, 103 suspected some of the supposed discoveries might have been outright frauds, with minerals from other locations brought in to seed the site to excuse funding it.
The clincher was the three unauthorized rover excursions all came during periods that station was temporarily unmanned. For once his quiet secure position as an administrator was frustrating. He really had no excuse to seek to go outside at all, much less off to a distant site. He reported what he had, and recovered one camera, because he felt he’d found what he was looking for. The other camera transmitted footage that indicated it was seen, so he erased its memory and deactivated it remotely. He’d have to think on it and see if any excuse to investigate further presented itself.
* * *
“I’m going to call your brother to help move your things and ask him to go with us to Sylvia’s,” April said. “I want to see how he is taking your move, and let Diana see him again. I’m not sure if Sylvia knows or remembers him, but I want to make sure they have him firmly in mind and associate him with me too.”
“Are you going to ask them to do anything for him too?” Lindsey asked. “At least the sort of businesses he does there’s really not much to seize.”
“No, but I want to let them see he’s an associate. I’ll mention he works for Jeff in the bank, and just let them see I’m friendly with him. So if they ever have opportunity or need to help him they know I’ll back it, without trying to lay out specific conditions or scenarios where they should act,” April said.
“I can see how that might work, but wouldn’t it be better to be specific?”
“No, I can see us standing before the Assembly petitioning for your majority. I can make a good case I acted to see you safe when you were standing in the corridor homeless and at risk to anyone who might take advantage of you. If I start doing things for your brother when he doesn’t present as a juvenile in need of sheltering it could be played as a very bad thing. Be aware that somehow just putting your mother off and delaying her for a year won’t fix everything. It would mean you would be an adult if she forced you back to Earth, so she’d have a very hard time taking your things away back on Earth, but you won’t get your majority automatically here. You will still have to petition and have a vote on it.
“I can just see your mother standing up and asking when I decided to interfere in her family’s’ affairs and alienate her children from her?” April said.
“O’m’gosh, I can just hear her saying exactly that,” Lindsey agreed, horrified. “Jeff actually gave up his apartment for us to live in so he could hire my dad, and she still makes out that it’s somehow a devious ploy to keep him under his thumb.
“She just can’t explain exactly how it’s worth him sleeping in his office jammed in there with his hired man. But she’s sure in the proper order of things they would have a nice place similar to how we lived on Earth. She doesn’t want to hear about hot slots and people taking in renters. I wonder if she’d turn her nose up at your place?” Lindsey wondered, gesturing around at it, one supposed with approval. “I shudder to think what this had to cost.”
“I’m quite aware how fortunate I am,” April agreed. “Wait until you see Sylvia’s. She got in really early and has a huge cubic.”
Eric arrived looking serious, and looked at Lindsey’s boxes. “I haven’t been home. I see you really did clean everything out.”
“Do you have anything you want me to take for safekeeping?” Lindsey asked.
“I never keep anything at home I care about,” Eric said. “That’s been my habit even from before we came up to Home. I had a few memory cards I hide in my clothes and smuggled up, but found places to take them within days. I haven’t kept anything where mom could find it since she had a fit and threw all my books away back on Earth.”
April looked so quizzical he explained, “Print books I couldn’t download.”
“Why in the world would she do that?” April asked.
“She started looking through them and found a couple she said had bad ideas. One was an original text copy of Huck Finn that was illegal, but worth some money. Once she found a couple of them she didn’t like, she just tossed them all as suspect. I got pretty good at hiding stuff after that. I had no idea she was going to do this to you or I’d have warned you, Lindsey.”
“I know you would. If I can, with April helping me, I may petition to be granted adult status. If I get that they might allow me to keep you as family if Mom goes back to Earth. The thing is, I know you’ve seen me do incredibly stupid stuff, but I’m not like that now. If do get a chance to be free and I take you as your guardian, it has to be real. I mean you’d have to actually do what I say and treat me with respect, not dredge up every idiotic thing I did in the past and fight me.”
Eric looked at her really hard and took a deep breath. “I can do that.”
“Come in with us at Sylvia’s,” April requested. “It may help me later for them to remember you work with me.”
“I’ve delivered to her, but whatever you say.”
* * *
Sylvia had an elaborate interactive door screen that fascinated Lindsey. Eric smiled but said nothing. April realized if he delivered here he’d seen it before. It was worth the delay and video playing out to a trumpet blast entry to let a newcomer enjoy the spectacle.
It was Diana who answered the door, but then Lindsey delayed them again in the entry. One side of the L-shaped airlock was one of Sylvia’s art glass panels. It was stunning and well worth the time to examine it. It was a nature theme with a Great Blue Heron and the details of a swamp environment around him. The detailed images extended under the water in which he stood too.
Inside Sylvia was working with a diamond wheel on another block of glass. April hated to think what that cost to lift to orbit, and made a mental note to ask Jeff if they could make glass on the Moon now. Sylvia turned the grinder off and the louder vacuum built around the wheel also turned off after a couple seconds delay. Sylvia pulled out earplugs and took off her helmet and face shield, taking a break to meet her guest.
Lindsey went into a gushing rant about the panel in the entry before anybody could actually introduce her. Diana looked past the two of them lost in animated conversation, and gave April and Eric a come-hither jerk of her head.
“I’ve seen this before,” Diana said. “No point in trying to pry them apart until they run down. Let me show you where her room is and you can throw her stuff in there.”
“You sure she’s going to let her stay?” Eric asked.
Diana looked amused. “Look at them,” she told Eric.
He looked back and the two artists were leaning over, their heads almost touching, and Diana was saying something earnestly, and Lindsey was running her finger tips over the gouges in the glass, nodding just as earnestly.
“Uh, yeah,” Eric conceded the point. “I’ve got her bedroom stuff here,” he said hefting the duffel, “but there’s more back in the lock. I hope that’s OK, because I told the cart to go back home to the rental company.”
Diana went back with them to recover it, and looked dismayed.
“I thought spacers didn’t accumulate a bunch of junk,” Diana said.
“These are her drawings and notes, everything she cares about,” April said.
“Let’s line them up over at the end of the studio, where she stores extra boxes and stuff,” Diana decided. That’s exactly what April would have suggested.
Once tucked in the storage area and a cover draped back to the deck Diana led them back and started making coffee without asking. April suggested Lindsey liked tea better.
“Fine, we have that too,” she looked and appraised the two artists’ continued conversation, “for whenever she starts to run down, but this is for us.”
“Why don’t you call one of your people to bring us some lunch?” April proposed to Eric. “It looks like we have time, and we can tell Diana the story about why Lindsey left home. She doesn’t look like she wants to talk about that yet. She can fill it in later if she wants.”
“Sure, a double picnic buffet for five OK? Lindsey and I are the only two without gene mods, right?”
“Yeah,” Diana agreed.
When the food arrived and everyone else sat at the table Sylvia and Lindsey did notice, and pried themselves away from the panel. Sylvia took off her work smock and gloves and threw them in the tumbler for contaminated work clothing. The glass dust was pervasive even with a vacuum system.
“Lindsey and I are going to do a panel together,” Sylvia announced. “We’ll lay it out in her center weighed style and I’ll do the carving and tinting. I’ll teach her a little bit about roughing it out too.”
April couldn’t see any advantage to forcing the conversation around to why Lindsey needed shelter. His mission to place Lindsey was accomplished. If Lindsey hadn’t filled Sylvia in neither of them seemed all that concerned about it. She built a sandwich and let them talk. For a wonder, Eric was smart enough to keep his mouth shut when things were going well. If neither of them demanded a ride to the Moon tomorrow to see their dad she wouldn’t press them to come. There were cheap enough shuttle seats available on a regular schedule after all.
* * *
The new summary distributed each evening by the local radio net was, by its nature condensed. It was for people too far from any of the folks with satellite links to visit easily. Most of them had acquired the ham radios from Nevada and weren’t licensed for them. A few people who still had a sat link would set up a home theater for pay in their garage, and showed movies and served refreshments.
People who relied on the free evening radio report were busy and many of them needed to conserve their batteries. A lot of folks wouldn’t be able to charge them back up until the morning sun let them hook up a solar panel. The report was very different than the teaser news casts, they had all grown up with. They didn’t waste three quarters of the air time telling you what they were going to tell you several times before getting around to it. There were no commercials to entice you to hear. So they read everything off one time and didn’t repeat. It helped if everyone in the family followed the unspoken rule, that nobody talked over the broadcast. They could discuss it later if something wasn’t clear. She did wonder how long it would be before they had commercials.
Local news meant about a thirty mile radius now, and past that, even the rest of Northern California wasn’t local anymore as it didn’t touch their lives much. There was a birth announcement and news that a neighbor had an injury and needed help while he recovered, but that was ten miles away and beyond their ability to help. If somebody could spare a person to go live with the man until he recovered then they might be able to help from so far away. They couldn’t.
Mr. O’Neil who ran the tiny general store off his front porch announced he would take orders for prescription glasses to be flown in, if you had your numbers to have them made. He’d been getting prescription drugs for a couple months now with the cooperation of a Nevada doctor. All he required was an old pill bottle with your name to issue a new Rx. That wasn’t exactly a commercial.
The country east of the Rockies didn’t get much of a mention unless there was something like a hurricane to report. Tonight they announced a coalition was formed between God’s Warriors and the Sons of Liberty. That wasn’t entirely a surprise. Eileen’s dad, Barney, had predicted they had better get their act together. Though he’d been a bit saltier about expressing it, when the news a couple days ago told of Texas annexing Louisiana. He predicted if they didn’t settle their differences Texas would be back for another bite in a year. There weren’t any further details, but the short version was astonishing enough. It was like cats and dogs forming an alliance. The head of the Warriors announced he was stepping down and handing the party off to his number two man as part of the deal. That was downright amazing.
* * *
Pierre got to the north dock, the industrial one, early. When April arrived she was wearing a one piece jump suit, and frowned at him, which was unnerving since he had no idea why.
“I never thought, you don’t own a suit. We’ll open an emergency suit before we undock, and let you use it. The Folly only has about a eight cubic meters of pressure cabin and I don’t want to explain to France why I survived and you didn’t if we get popped open.”
Well, that explained her unusual garment. It was a suit liner.
“The shuttle coming to home didn’t make us wear suits,” Pierre pointed out.
“Yeah, and that makes me all twitchy if I have to ride in one,” April countered. “It doesn’t take much of a hole to depressurize a small cabin in two or three seconds. It’s bad enough to have to take time to slap your faceplate shut and keep flying something. If you really had to crack open a bin and unroll an emergency suit you probably aren’t going to make it,” April assured him. “Besides it’s a big production to get a pressure tunnel connected on the Moon. It’s normal and a lot quicker to just wear a suit out the lock for this class of ship. It’s not set up for it like a transport shuttle.”
“That’s going to be a pleasant thought flying back home,” Pierre said.
April shrugged. “Keep the suit if you want. It has to be recertified to roll it back up and repack it anyway. I can afford it.” She smiled. “Though just by wearing it you might make the other passengers on the shuttle nervous, wondering why you have it on. I do appreciate you don’t have a ton of luggage.” She secured his single bag when she got him a suit out of its bin.
“Unlike you, that wouldn’t amuse me, to discomfort them. I’ll pass thank you,” Pierre said. It was really easy to put the suit on in zero G. Pierre tried to imagine doing so in gravity on a floor with his usual shoes. That might be awkward. April gave him a soft thick packet from the opened suit roll to stuff in his pants. “This will absorb near a half liter of urine and stay dry on the surface if you can’t open your suit to go use the head.”
She helped guide his limbs in the suit, adjusting all the straps and showing him the way the helmet worked. It was “One size doesn’t fit anybody,” April said, tongue in cheek. Her own suit was clipped to the back of her acceleration couch and took her about as long to put on as Pierre needed to tie his Earthie shoes in the morning.
April seemed more concerned with positioning him correctly in his reclined seat than she had fitting the suit.
“When the seat changes shape and these accessory units fold down don’t fight it, just let them move you and position you. Keep your arms inside the shields here and don’t try to reach outside the slots if you want to keep those arms bending the right way,” April warned.
“You are going to accelerate that fast?” Pierre asked.
“Nah, I was told to limit it to ten G today because of some packages we are carrying. But that’s still enough to break your arm and make a mess if you don’t keep it tucked in when I boost. I want to get there quickly. I’m an owner, sort of, and if I want to waste a little fuel and mass nobody is going to argue with me.”
April climbed in her seat and strapped in. Pierre was thinking about what she said while she started talking to the traffic control. Most of it seemed like any professional chatter, but his ear caught it when she said the armed merchant Eddie’s Folly. He’d never been in an armed vessel before, he thought, but then he wondered if maybe Larkin’s ships were armed, if that was the custom. Would ISSII allow them to dock if they carried weapons? He seemed to remember French military vessels docked there, so they must. It wasn’t unlike war ships making calls in foreign ports.
April identified herself as Master, ID 737-62-4002 and asked a half G clearance to their control limit for lunar departure, uploaded a flight profile, and promised to contact Central Control on approach.
“OK we are on a ten minute hold while some local work stuff in transit gets out of the way of where our exhaust plume will point,” April said.
“What did you mean you are ‘sort of’ an owner?” Pierre asked.
“Business on Home doesn’t have a lot of regulation,” April reminded him, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t get complicated. If you checked you’d find Eddie’s Folly technically belongs to Just on Time Services, but Just on Time contracts with Singh Technologies of which I own a third. Both these companies may be tied different ways with the System Trade Bank and the Private Bank of Home. Even Eric who showed you around may have an interest in this ship second or third hand, since he is not only employed by the System Trade Bank but has an arrangement for half his royalties to be reinvested in the bank.”
“The kid?” Pierre asked, incredulous. “Royalties?”
“He invented the little folder gold certificates,” she said, drawing the shape with her fingers, “the bits. Eric actually prints them, rakes off a percentage fee for them, and does other stuff for the bank. I have an interest in the bank, but I’m usually too busy to do much for it, but some planning. It was my idea to start the bank up though, once we had our independence from North America. I mean, why not, since there was no law against it?” April asked.
Why not indeed? Pierre thought.
“Here we go,” April said as the clock neared the ten minute mark, just before Control started chatting with her again. “Be safe out there,” the male voice counseled her lastly. The apparatus above him folded down and his couch changed shape elevating his legs. He didn’t resist it just as he’d been told. The push was easy and unexciting until they reached the control limit. Then it ramped up and a series of adjustments tugged at him in small steps until he seemed a little heavier but unevenly. His legs actually felt lighter than they should.
“And we’ll hold ten G for a few minutes,” April informed him. I have the coffee maker set to be done brewing when we stop our burn,” she promised.
“How does that thing work?” Pierre demanded, waving at the retracted machinery when they dropped back to a zero G coast.
“I know it’s a very bad old joke, but I’d have to kill you if I told you,” April assured him. It didn’t seem all that funny. Pierre dropped that for a different question.
“You called this ship an armed merchant. Is the Larkin’s Line shuttle I flew an armed merchant too?” Pierre wondered.
“Going to ISSII in Earth orbit? You better believe it. Nobody is real comfortable in LEO any more. The Earthies just have too much of a history of taking pot shots at us to feel safe that close to all their systems. Old Man Larkin is not very trusting. Jeff would tell you plainly he’s mean as a snake, if not in his hearing. It was at ISSII that the Chinese snatched a sister ship to this one, Eddie’s Rascal, and wouldn’t give her back. We lost her, and two crew,” April said, sounding angry about it still.
Pierre knew about the ship, but not the crew. His own agencies hadn’t found that significant to mention to him. He seemed to have a talent for reminding April of unpleasant things. As he remembered the story, it hadn’t been a great exchange for China.
Pierre declined coffee, not wishing to deal with the unfamiliar suit or test the absorbent pad. April indulged and he didn’t want to know how she handled it, but she did disappear to the back after awhile. April settled in and seemed to be reading or doing some sort of work, so he didn’t bother her with idle chatter.
Central Control gave them clearance without any trouble and then copied their flight plan to Armstrong who acknowledged it. That seemed awkward, but Pierre kept his mouth shut about it for fear it was another sore point.
April informed him she was pumping the cabin down to save some of the air and instructed him to close his faceplate firmly. It made a distinct loud click.
“I’m going to slave your suit readouts to my board to watch your pressure, and turn on your radio. You don’t have to do anything,” April said.
“Stand ready to move with your seat again,” April warned after a bit. She said no more again before the seat changed shape again and the frame work pivoted down around it again. April was chatting but he didn’t follow most of it. Suddenly it was a lot quieter and he realized they were down so smoothly there was no final bump at all.
“Mind your step. You aren’t used to the gravity. I’d just jump out the lock, but it can look scary if you haven’t done it, so I’ll rig a line to slide down. Watch me.”
April hovered around him as he got up, like she might have to grab him, then took his bag for him and led the way to the lock, which had both hatches open. The lock was really tiny. No wonder she didn’t want to cycle through it with him. They would be jammed together faceplates near touching. It was dark outside but big flood lights projected a glare in the lock. There was a bracket that didn’t look strong enough to hang a potted plant, but April swung it out and locked it in place. The cord she played out didn’t look any stouter than the bracket, but April reached out and gripped it.
“Just grab the line and you can hang by one hand easily in this gravity. Let loose slowly and you will start to slide. If you feel uncomfortable just grip a little tighter and it’ll slow you down.” She stepped out and dropped away, his bag dangling casually in her off hand.
Pierre stepped up to the edge and looked down. There was already an open utility vehicle parked below taking on cargo from the hold below. April tossed his bag in the back with a carelessness that assumed it had no breakables. She stood below looking up and holding the line taunt for him. He wouldn’t even suffer the discomfort of swinging like a pendulum. Fortunately Pierre had no particular fear of heights. April hadn’t thought to ask. Maybe it wasn’t a common spacer problem. He reached out and grabbed the line without making a fuss or shaming himself with lengthy indecision. It was actually pretty easy. When he reached the bottom he landed flat footed and didn’t totter. April seemed to think he was safe and stable after that performance. She climbed in the cart, sliding to the far side of the bench seat, without feeling she had to see him seated first, like an invalid.
They were loaded quickly and started across the field. There wasn’t anything to be seen beyond the reach of the harsh artificial lighting. Another cart with headlamps on passed them headed to the ship with what must be its new load. They suddenly pitched forward at an angle and down a ramp he hadn’t seen in the shadows. The headlights showed a long descending notch they followed down to a round tunnel opening, and then they were underground.
* * *
Director of Safety Liggett appeared at his door and asked if Albert could spare him a moment or if he should come back later? Sometimes the man was so self-effacing that Albert Schober suspected he was putting on an act.
“But of course, come in, sit down. Would you like Marty to make us some coffee?” he invited.
“Please, that would be a kindness. Give me a moment please.” He pulled an instrument from his pocket and checked it, tapping the screen a few times. Then pulled an antenna from each side to make a dipole and swept it around the room.
“Surely my own office is safe,” Albert protested.
“Now I can agree with that,” Liggett said, putting it away. “We did find that remote camera last week so we know we have a sleeper. And it’s erased and abandoned now. It’s not paranoia if somebody is really out to get you.”
“I’d assume we had some watchers even if we never found any signs.”
“Of course,” Liggett agreed. “I do have some news. We have promises of backing now from two sponsors, who I would characterize as trillionaires in Australian dollars, seven billionaires, and thirty four multi-millionaires.
“I had to make promises of Martian emigration rights and immediate full citizenship to the five of the largest backers. Their fortunes are so large I think they would be self-sustaining, even if they were no longer there to direct them. Some of the others I suspect assume that they bought such rights without it being said explicitly.”
“That many can’t keep a secret,” Schober said with certainty.
“Agreed, but self interest will limit who they bring in. The thing is, we are near the point we could be self sustaining if support of the Mars Consortium wavers. Especially since some will undoubtedly choose to go home and reduce the burden of supporting them here.”
“Or be invited to do so,” Schober said with some malice. He had a list.
“I’m sure some of them will never actually come,” Liggett assured him. “They just want the rights. To them it’s a form of insurance like having a bunker or a rural compound. They would have to be desperate to go where they don’t have every luxury and comfort to which they are accustomed. One gentleman is Asian,” he said, and waited to see how Schober would take that.
Schober just shrugged. “He’s human isn’t he? If public order deteriorates too quickly they won’t have opportunity to extract themselves,” Schober predicted. “That’s a feature not a bug.”
Liggett smiled, both agreeing and amused.

Chapter 10
The corridors weren’t so crude that it felt like being in a mine, but you knew you weren’t in a structure or building. The sealant didn’t entirely hide the tool marks the boring machine left. Everything looked oddly sharp edged and harsh, then Pierre realized it wasn’t just the lighting. They hadn’t been through a lock and everything looked different in the far distance with no air and no dust to disperse the light. He hadn’t anticipated that.
They’d come so far, it would take a tremendous volume of air to keep it under pressure. He said as much to April.
“And a pressurized tunnel transmits a shock wave better, or worse, depending on your view of it. It’s a security issue. They’ve survived a nuclear bombardment before and are hardened even more now,” April assured him.
They drove into a big freight elevator and dropped a long way, all still in vacuum. It wasn’t until the emerged what had to be several kilometers deep that they went down a short tunnel and finally encountered a lock.
Once inside pressure there were frequent side tunnels and hatches to side compartments. They even passed a couple other powered vehicles and a couple bicyclists and pedestrians.
“This is your guest quarters,” April said, when they stopped at a door with a four digit number on it. “It’s pretty much like any hotel room, so I don’t need to show you how things work. I’m not sure what time Heather will see you, but she won’t play games making you wait unless she has some emergency. So expect to see her tomorrow, and I’ll be there when she does see you. We’ll leave you a message on com and it has an alarm of course.
“If you feel the need to go out the cafeteria is straight down the corridor the way we came in. Your spex can use the same mapping program here that it did on Home if you want to wander around. The cafeteria is only about three hundred steps away, but they will deliver too if you’d rather. Is there anything else you need?”
“Will you be staying nearby?” Pierre wondered. That got a definite sharp look he hadn’t expected.
“I have property at Central, but relatively undeveloped. I’ll be fairly nearby if you need help. I always stay in Heather’s private quarters.”
Of course, he realized. He had the sense not to ask about Jeff.
“I believe I shall go out, just to see what Central is like,” Pierre decided.
“Have fun. It’s safe,” she felt compelled to add before they pulled away.
* * *
Agent 71 wasn’t expecting a review. That wasn’t for a couple months yet. He was not aware of any problems or deficiencies in his work, and he knew his job well enough he’d know ahead if there was a problem. If there was such a problem he’d expect to be called into his superior’s office to explain it. That’s just how things were done.
Mr. Polson was not a friendly chatty supervisor. He really had no complaints about the man, he was treated fairly. So it was unnerving when Polson showed up at his work station with his boss.
“Adam, Mr. Meijer requires some of your time today. You are excused from your assignment this shift. I’ll note on the time sheets you were pulled for other duty.”
Meijer casually nodded at Polson dismissing him. It wasn’t lost on Adam how easily he did that. The gap between the two was as wide if not wider than his from Polson. It was a little intimidating.
“Adam, you don’t need to look concerned. There’s no problem,” Meijer said.
“Good, I wasn’t aware of any. Logistics is important, but it’s really not that complicated unless you are inattentive to details and allow things to progress out of control.”
“Your diligence is obvious in your personality profile,” Meijer admitted, “Also your loyalty. The combination of being able to remain alert to what is superficially an easy task is not a common trait. It’s similar to being able to operate a manual control vehicle on a long straight road. Some people just can’t stay alert. They may fall asleep and run off a perfectly clear safe road. Some need to start doing silly things to force themselves to stay alert.
“We have need of someone for a special security detail that calls for the ability to tolerate long periods of uneventful boring duty but maintaining watchfulness. The job is important, but I want you to think carefully before you make a commitment to it. It requires disclosure of secrets that would mean we could never rotate you back to Earth. If you have visions of returning to a natural environment with trees and lakes, or miss the bustle and complexity of a city with lots of people, then it’s not for you.”
“I’ve been here three tours,” Adam reminded him. “I’m sure you know that and wouldn’t even be talking to somebody with only a single tour under their belt. I actively dislike the noisy crowded city life, and Mars has its own beauty. I wouldn’t mind seeing more of it than my job has required. The only question you raise in my mind is, will I be required to stay here, but find my job has in time become superfluous? I need to do something that has a continuing purpose.”
“No, this is something I expect to remain important beyond our lifetimes. Indeed it changes the reasons we are on Mars and eclipses the old ones. We are guardians of a new purpose, but it’s a secret, and you would be a partner in that,” Meijer promised.
Adam looked serious. Meijer expected that. He just had no idea of the reasons. Adam was contemplating his odds of ever being rescued if he accepted this isolation. But it was obviously such a big deal he owed it to his agency to find out what the Martians’ big secret was, even if he basically sacrificed his chances of returning to an Earth retirement. He was deeply loyal, just not to the Martians.
“If the work is that important, and I can do it, how could I refuse?” Adam said.
That’s what Meijer wanted to hear.
“Come with me then. Polson was told I might reassign you. There’s nothing else here you need to wrap up. He will be given a qualified man to take over your duties, one just starting a new tour who couldn’t qualify for your new post.”
* * *
Pierre set the door to his hand, oddly uncomfortable not to have a physical key card, even though those were all reset to each guest just like inputting his biometric data. That use was illegal in Europe. It just amounted to what you were used to, he decided. He left the pressure suit draped across a chair. April left the carrier with his bag, but he wasn’t sure he could fold it as compactly as needed to fit back in the bag. He should have recorded the unfolding process.
He hadn’t asked if he’d be charged a fee for the room. When April said it was for guests he assumed not. What he didn’t anticipate was the cafeteria waved away the question of how he’d pay.
“We simply don’t have enough non-residents come in to eat to bother with a cash drawer or payment system,” the counterman said. “It would be more bother and expense than the amount we’d recoup. We have a handful of people who commute from Armstrong, and their employers pay a small head fee. Get what you want and don’t worry about it,” he urged.
There wasn’t a huge menu like a fine restaurant, but there were six daily specials and a selection of standard items like sandwiches. The salad was crisp and well dressed and the linguine with prawns in a garlic crème sauce couldn’t be faulted. Pierre got another coffee and sat watching the workers having their dinner. They dressed a little differently, but except for a couple that arrived in suit liners they weren’t all that different than an Earth crowd.
He decided to check the map program April suggested and see if he wanted to stroll further. That was where it departed from resembling an Earth city. When he zoomed out it looked more like what he would imagine an ant nest to look like in 3D. And if he understood the scale correctly it went for kilometers horizontally and even further in depth.
The color coding indicated public corridors and elevators, private business volumes and residential areas under construction. Some of the elevators in private areas went down past the ten kilometer depth already and had coloring to indicate they were being sunk deeper. It wasn’t the small village accessible on foot he imagined. Yes, there were shops and a bank and offices near the cafeteria when he zoomed in, but he had no desire to go shopping. It would require hiring one of the carts to go very far at all. There seemed little point in that, so he’d just go back to his room.
* * *
The next morning April had left a text message waiting on his com. “Are you up for lunch with the three of us? I’ll come by mid-day, and it’s walking distance if you are rested and ready,” she offered.
That made Pierre wonder if April thought him old and doddering, that he’d need to rest up from such a short trip? Three must mean Jeff would be there. The same threesome he’d encountered visiting Sylvia. That seemed so recent and yet so long ago in terms of significant events piled up between then and now.
“Certainly. I’m ready,” Pierre answered, with no elaboration. It was still early so he would go get a light bite to eat at the cafeteria. It didn’t look good to be too hungry and show more interest in lunch than the hostess and her conversation. Eric had warned him back on Home that spacers had a keen sense of smell. He’d come back, clean up and put on his best outfit he’d worn to the club with April rather than his Earth style suit. He was rather looking forward to it.
* * *
April gave him an approving nod. She was dressed in something with a lot of pockets that was probably more utilitarian than casual. The corridor was busier than yesterday. Other people must be headed to or from their lunch too.
“I looked at the expanded view of Central with my spex yesterday. I’m not used to thinking of a city in 3D like that. Of course Earth cities do go down. It isn’t uncommon for skyscrapers to go down several levels from the traditional street level, and up quite a lot of course, but not kilometers.”
“The other Moon outposts tend to be less aggressive about digging,” April said. “Of course they didn’t have the boring machines we do now. Heather sold a couple to Marseille, and they will be tunneling more. They haven’t had the defense issues Central has. The Chinese laid a megaton weapon on Central as a surface burst. At least it wasn’t a burrower. The deep shafts and tunnels are designed not to carry a blast deep now, and it would be very hard to eliminate Central. And of course there are defense installations that don’t show on public scan. I think China knows by now that it would be a mutual suicide if they did succeed. I hope so.”
“China is awfully big,” Pierre said.
“Yes, but the important parts tend to be clustered. Let’s say they lost half their population and eighty percent of their industry all at once. The other half of the population would decline another ten or twenty percent in the next couple years. All the regional differences the central power suppresses now would be free to assert themselves again. The language would remain, and the bare framework of the culture. But the vast political entity would be gone, and I’m not sure the circumstances would ever work to allow it to arise again in recognizable form.”
Pierre thought about what that would mean as they walked along.
“It almost happened,” April revealed, thinking his silence disbelief. “Jeff had the whole action set to initiate if he didn’t stop it every ten minutes. Heather and I had to sit and reset the clock while he slept on the floor waiting to see if they wanted to war with him. They decided to change leadership rather than test him. He really didn’t want to destroy Beijing and all the treasures of the Hidden City. All the old buildings and history, but it was a close thing.”
Pierre wondered if Joel knew that story?
“All this is temporary,” April said waving a hand around. “Not that it will be abandoned, but it will switch over to different uses. Heather will have a new residence when they reach the depth at which the rock is at shirt sleeve temperatures.”
Pierre hadn’t realized such a thing existed. He knew it got hot in deep Earth mines, but had no idea a warm zone was reachable here.
When they reached a door April laid her hand on the entry pad and they went in. Down a hallway there were a few other doors and halls that branched off and another door that opened to her hand. That last was directly into Heather’s living quarters. Pierre was amazed there wasn’t a deeper security perimeter with actual guards.
The inside wasn’t much different than his guest room. His was in blue colors and apparently Heather favored greens. There was no gilt or glitter or ostentatious display of wealth. Heather and Jeff were dressed as casually as April and lounging on a couch. There was a screen on the wall with an orchestra playing music low enough to speak over easily. Heather muted that when they entered.
A lady was laying out a buffet for lunch, but it wasn’t elaborate. There were a couple cold salads and sandwich fixings. There was coffee maker on a cart he could smell working, and bottled water. The woman spoke with casual familiarity and told Heather she’d check back towards supper time.
Heather informed Pierre they didn’t waste time or effort on formality unless she was holding a court, and got up inviting him to make himself a plate. She wasn’t above serving herself on the buffet and chatted about what he might like. They all made him feel like he was at a family dinner rather than a state visit. Which on reflection, it might be to them.
“Almost everything here is locally produced,” Heather said. “We’re making a huge effort to be able to not just survive, but live well and comfortably independent of Earth.”
“That only seems wise and reasonable,” Pierre allowed. “Even among Earth nations it is dangerous to rely on others to heavily. Sometimes one does not have the resources to avoid it. You may lack a mineral or sufficient land to support your population. But it leaves you vulnerable. It’s on a matter of supply my superior wanted to have me talk with you. Or perhaps you’d rather leave business matters for after eating? Is that is your custom?”
“It won’t bother me if it doesn’t spoil your appetite,” Heather said. She made a dismissive wave. “Talk away.”
“First of all, Joel shared intelligence assessments with me that you are building another medium sized vessel,” Pierre said. “They came to that conclusion from watching the materials markets. Something on the same order of size or a bit bigger than your lander is his estimate.”
“That’s an effective way of doing that,” April allowed, noncommittally.
“The thing is, it is the consensus of our people that you intend to create a vessel of the same drive class as James Weir’s lost ship, but bigger. That is, a star ship that would require a considerable supply of Helium3 to attain the velocities necessary for that sort of ship to function.”
Jeff smiled slowly. “They’re mistaken,” he assured Pierre.
This was disturbing to Pierre, not just what he said, but how he said it. Government officials, such as he normally dealt with, just don’t speak so bluntly and in absolutes.
When Pierre looked disbelieving but refused to outright contradict him, Jeff expanded on that. “We’re aware of the relationship between Weir’s Brazilian partners and France, even if as we suspect, he was not informed fully.”
Pierre actually gagged on that, choking on his coffee. Jeff had to wonder if perhaps Pierre wasn’t informed any better than Weir had been.
Jeff continued bluntly. “It’s entirely OK with us that France is behind the collection of Helium3 and has used Marseille to induce Central into aiding the collection of it from regolith. This doesn’t put us in conflict or competition. We’d have contracted with you directly if you’d just asked. We’re also aware there can never be enough harvested from that source to sustain a large star going civilization. Be assured we will continue to meet the obligations to which our sovereign has committed us, and not divert or renege on the agreement in order to supply it to our own uses. Indeed we may be able to make more available if plans go forward as we’d like.”
Pierre didn’t believe that, and decided to have his say despite being told the whole basis of France’s actions were false. It he returned without making at least the basics of their proposal known, Joel would be furious.
“Then let me tell you, just as a theoretical matter, to keep in mind for the future, that if you should find you need Helium3 for your own future endeavors, France has a process in development which will supply a large volume of the gas before the natural reserves from the Moon become a bottleneck to expansion.
“We are quite willing to partner with Central as a choice over other allies in utilizing this process, given certain agreements of mutual cooperation, and granting us a most favored nation status,” Pierre concluded.
Jeff looked askance at Heather. Had the man listened to him at all?
“Just, as you say, theoretically… what would the price tag of this special favored status be?” Heather asked.
“Foremost, is your nondisclosure of the process. You’ve shown an ability to protect trade secrets. We wouldn’t even consider others who haven’t demonstrated that ability as full partners. They might be offered supply but not possession of the system. Also, a waiver to allow our ships exclusive rights to carry weapons past L1 when they are outbound beyond the Solar System.”
Pierre wished he could add that they wanted the technology for the acceleration cancelling devices he’d witnessed, but it was outside his authority to start altering his instructions.
“That’s not going to happen,” April spoke tersely for all three of them. One glance around at their hard faces showed there was no dissent. This wasn’t a negotiating ploy – this was a full stop impasse.
“You could have saved a great deal of time and effort and put the proposal to me on Home,” April told him. “This touches on our basic business plans and agreements at the top level, which is we three alone, no matter with which of our companies or other entities you are trying to deal. So I could have answered you with certainty. This leaves me wondering if your superior knows more and sent you uninformed to hide that, or is himself unaware of our situation. Because bluntly, we are not bluffing. We don’t need the He3.”
“Then we are mistaken, and you must have other plans for your new vessel,” Pierre concluded. “You may be right, but I won’t know either way, until I return and consult with the President.”
“Do tell him one other thing,” Jeff requested. “Make sure he knows that Dave’s did not sabotage or deal dishonestly with Weir or his people. It irks me to see news people slandering my friend and business associate who is an honorable man. For that matter I’m offended they slander Weir himself, but I had no business relationship with him. If they came to Home and spoke that way, they would get called out for it.”
None of the Three felt any need to volunteer their plans for the new vessel. They hadn’t even really verified if it existed or not, of which Pierre was keenly aware. Once again, they seemed an odd mix of naively young and inexplicably mature power to him.
“I’ll tell the Prime Minister,” Pierre said, and had the sense not to ask proof. He was not dismissed, which confused him, and then he simply realized they were being polite, and allowing everyone to finish up lunch like civilized people. On Earth, not being rude at this point and showing him the door once their business was at an impasse would have been regarded as a sign of weakness.
“Do you still intend to go on to Marseille?” April asked when everyone was through eating.
“Yes, I still have business there, and will return to France from there rather than retrace my route,” Pierre said.
“There is regular shuttle service,” April told him, “or you still have the suit and are welcome to it. If you call Marseille they very likely will dispatch a hopper to pick you up. It’s an open vehicle without much carrying capacity but private and you don’t have to wait on a commercial schedule.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for your care,” Pierre said. It was amazing that they were not trying to hurry him out of their hospitality. He considered making a report to Joel, and decided it would be more secure from Marseille. He couldn’t see there was anything Joel could say that would need to be taken back to these three. It seemed a genuine dead end to him.
* * *
“Well, that wasn’t entirely what I was expecting at all,” Jeff said.
“No. What sort of process could they be talking about to separate He3?” April wondered. You’ve spoken about mining it off gas giants, but they don’t have the transport to make that workable, do they? Or could they get enough from the outer system to make it viable once they had a permanent outpost out there?”
“Perhaps, but he indicated it was more a process they could share. I tend to think they have a process in the experimental stages to synthesize large volumes,” Jeff said, “likely converting deuterium to He3 by some multi-stage process.”
“But wouldn’t that involve large inefficiencies?” Heather asked.
“Yes,” Jeff agreed, “but if you are just looking at the end product energy numbers, and the cost is low enough, it doesn’t really matter. You’re getting the needed energy density and if it doesn’t cost that much to charge up the battery, so to speak, then who cares? There’s basically an unlimited supply of deuterium for our present tech and usage. Maybe in a thousand years things will be different.”
“In a thousand years it may be as quaint as burning wood,” April said.
* * *
“Yeah, I make the bits both banks distribute,” Eric told Diana. “I do other design work for Jeff’s coins too.”
“I see the little sticker that says not to remove it or it voids the bit,” Diana said. “I didn’t feel like ruining one to see how it worked. Could you come by Sylvia’s when you get a chance and explain how that works and how much the system costs in big lots?”
“Lindsey is still there with you guys, isn’t she?” Eric asked.
“Yes, Sylvia seems to enjoy working with her and they are collaborating on a piece. She’s a sweet kid. I don’t mind having her around either.”
“Well ask her to show you how she authenticates her art,” Eric told her. “She took all her stuff there, so she must have a bunch the loose pieces to make them. She issues a card with the same sort of serial number, it’s basically the same system as the bank uses in bits.”
“Oh, they’ve been talking art nonstop, but I don’t think they ever talked about selling it,” Diana said.
“Can I come later, after my mom goes to work?” Eric asked. “I’ve been making myself scarce. I can bring some of my security seals and I’ll go take a video of my machine making bits for you.”
“Come by whenever you want,” Diana said. “We’re not going out anywhere, and Sylvia bought a big tray of lasagna and a humungous apple strudel if you want to eat here.”
“I’ll do that, but don’t feed Lindsey too much. She’s not gene mod and if you feed her like that every night she’ll get fat,” he warned.

Chapter 11
Winter only seemed to last forever. According to the locals it was a relatively mild one. They at least had enough wood this year. Her father impressed her grandfather by making a wood splitting machine that worked far easier and safer than a wedge and sledge hammer. They didn’t have to huddle in the kitchen except for a few of the very coldest days. Eileen put on another spurt of growth, and by the time spring was showing definite signs of coming around she was wearing flood pants, and her blouses were tight in the shoulders, and elsewhere. They badly needed to trade for bigger clothing among other things.
There had been talk at the fall festival of having a spring or early summer festival. The locals were serious gardeners of necessity, but only a few were what you would really call a farmer. The sort who would be plowing significant acreage and unable to take time away from plowing and planting. If they had a fair before the ground got warm even those folks could come. Trade was of interest to most everyone, and once a year wasn't going to be enough for that, maybe not twice.
About twenty miles northwest of them a farmer had a private landing strip, and a friend was flying an ancient twin in from Nevada twice a month, weather permitting. He'd pick up prescriptions or glasses for you, take mail or small packages out, and even a maximum of two passengers if you let him know a month ahead, paid in cash or equivalent and would swear to secrecy, so he wasn't accused of running an illegal airline. Neither could your two people and luggage weigh more than a hundred twenty kilograms combined. The farmer set up a little store on his porch and had batteries, salt and pepper, over the counter medicines and a few luxuries like plastic bags. He was still the main source of illicit radios and other high priced items.
Victor came to visit when the satellite news predicted several days of clear weather, safe for traveling. It was still before the snow really started melting heavily, but a horse could handle it down at their elevation. That didn’t mean the passes were clear yet to the outside world. Not without fuel to run the big trucks with snow throwing machines. He made no pretext of having a mission off beyond them. Just a couple months of growth, over the worst of winter, saw Eileen blossom more than he could ignore with a poker face. He had a sharp intake of breath and blinked rapidly before he regained his composure. Eileen was delighted and smiled nicely for him, nothing shy or coy about her. None of this byplay was lost on her father.
After lunch she informed Vic in front of everybody that she needed to talk to him privately, while it was fairly warm out, and they had daylight. He just nodded yes, with a deer in the headlights sort of look. They still bundled up. April in the high country was far from warm. There wasn't anywhere else to go that wasn't snow covered so she led the way to the woodlot. Sawed sections of log flipped on end had no snow, and made decent seats.
"You still interested in me?" Eileen asked, very directly.
"More than ever," Vic said, just as bold. “I’m not interested in a stupid wife or stupid children. You’ve showed you’re a survivor already, and that you’re pretty enough already to make a man’s teeth ache, is just icing on the cake.”
"I'm a lot younger than you, but yeah, I'm not stupid. I have some goals and I have some requirements. I expect you might too," Eileen allowed.
"I do. There might be a deal breaker from either one of us, but I'm not going to hide anything and spring it on you later," Vic promised.
"Are you having sex with anybody?" Eileen asked.
"Not for almost a year," Vic said.
"You willing to keep vows if you marry?" she demanded.
"Yes, or I'd divorce you rather than cheat," Vic said, plainly.
"I still intend to go out there," Eileen reminded him, tossing her head back and looking up.
"You mentioned that. It may be tough to do," he warned. "The States don't like folks coming back in from the lawless zones. Texas has annexed most of New Mexico, parts of Oklahoma and some places a hundred kilometers into Mexico. The politics of it may make travel difficult for a long time yet. Folks here won’t even have a current driver’s license, much less a passport.”
"I figure that their law will come back into full control here before I'd go back east to them," Eileen said.
"I expect you are right, and that will happen along the coast and flat lands first. So it might be easier to get transportation and do business by going west than east. Maybe even Hawaii, if it isn’t prohibited from either end. When they get up here and get law enforcement set back up and in actual control, there will be mail and banking and taxes again. Things like new driver’s licenses and traffic patrols will come last. There's going to be trouble too because there's a lot of squatting. No telling if they will go with adverse possession and award title, or argue the land reverts to the state if the old owner or heirs are gone.
"They could take it from most just by demanding the back taxes," Eileen said.
"I knew you're no dummy," Vic said to acknowledge that.
"You might not live long enough to raise children," Eileen worried.
"I'm fifty one. Chances are they'd at least be teenagers, and some help to you, before I'd pass. I don't have a history of early disease in the family, nor any nasty stuff like dementia."
Eileen nodded to acknowledge that. "Jon thought you were maybe mid to late thirties the first time you came by the cabin," she confided. "You don't have a weathered face like some who work outside. They weren't used to everybody having beards, and yours didn't have any gray in it."
"I wore a beard before The Day," Vic said, reaching up and stroking it. My people didn't get salt and pepper with age like some. My dad went straight to all white in his late sixties."
"It helps make the age difference easier for me that you don't look old."
"I'll tell you something in confidence, if you’ll agree to keep it to yourself even if we don't marry," Vic said.
That was too intriguing to pass up. "I'll give my word on that," Eileen agreed.
"I have near eighty acres, hair over seventy eight, because the original survey wasn't as accurate as the recent ones. We wouldn't be poor, because the land is enough to support us, but there's no cash economy to speak of right now. I had two orphans staying with me, but they moved out to work for a family that needed the help.
“I have a seasonal creek on my land, where I've been panning and sluicing to save a little gold back. Now that the boys are fostered out, and when the weather lets up, I’ll start back up again. It's enough that when things return closer to normal we'd have cash as quick as we can sell it. Enough cash for legal services, for catching up on things like buying a truck when the roads are open again and fuel can be bought. Maybe even a good sized hunk towards a shuttle ticket."
"You got time to go dig gold?" Eileen asked surprised.
"Sundays, most folks either go to church or stay home now. I've never made a habit of church unless it's a wedding or a funeral. It's a bit of a hike for me too. I've made a point of never being too social so close by folks think to come over on a Sunday. And a single man, if he's not home when they drop by, they don't ask too closely where he was. If they don't find you home twice in a row most will figure not to waste their time trying again."
"I could help you of course," Eileen said.
"It's really just another chore now that I expect to do, like cutting wood or putting food by. I don't buy anything that would point to that, but equipment is easy to make. Of course having help to cook and clean would free me up to do the heavier digging and run a rocker that you'd find too hard.
"I'd try to accommodate your taste and choices in everyday living. I can't say I'll never raise my voice, but I'll never lay a hand on you, and I expect the same. There can't be two bosses. I expect to discuss things, but I make the decisions how to run the place and would expect your support. I know that isn't the way a lot of folks see it now, but a lot of things have reverted. We don't want to lose all of them, and go all rough edged, but we have to be practical."
"I'd be your sole heir?" Eileen asked.
"Yes. I'll have a will drawn, like a pre-nup if you want, before the wedding. I have clear title to my place, and the hard copy documents to prove it, in case there are any accidents of convenience, and the records are 'lost'."
"What do you think of a wedding at the fall festival?" Eileen asked. "We'd go there separately, and then I'd go home with you."
"You sure you're going to be ready then?" Vic asked.
"No, but if we doubt I'm up to bearing children we can put that off," Eileen said, and watched his response closely. Some of the young bucks were vocal about proving themselves. She didn’t think Vic would be like that.
"I’m sure we can accommodate each other," Vic insisted, and didn't make an issue of it.
That’s what Eileen wanted to hear. “I'll share some confidential information with you just like you shared the story about the gold mining with me," Eileen offered. "On the same terms too."
Vic just lifted an eyebrow, not sure what was coming, but nodded agreement.
"My dad knew people connected to the Spacers. One of them was both a spy and a doctor, hired to gather local data for them. He got cut off from contact on The Day. There's no telling if he even survived. The big reason I want to go up there is that the stuff they said on the news about gene therapy, and how it makes you live longer is hokum. Aside from one brief misstep it doesn't make you crazy, and the reason long lifers got sick was because some evil person created a disease just for the purpose of attacking them. So, I know you said you didn't feel you have a place up there, but think long and hard on it, because it could easily double your life. You might want to reevaluate and come up with me," Eileen said. "You may not be a techie, but there have to be other jobs for smart people. I wouldn't argue this with just anybody, they'd think me a nut-case in a minute."
"Well, that will certainly give us something to talk about, won't it?" Vic asked.
"Indeed, and if you tire of it I've found I really enjoy cards," she teased. She doubted her card playing skills made the first page of her assets with him.
"You want to announce anything to your people?" Vic asked, uncomfortable.
"You're going to come by again between now and fall festival, aren't you?"
"I certainly planned on it," Vic admitted. “There should be a spring gathering, though there is no date set. I’d planned on coming by sometime in the summer.”
"Then let me work on them," Eileen said. "If we walk back in there and say we are engaged they'll have a fit, even my mom. I guarantee they'll want to know what we talked about, and I'll tell them I'm thinking of asking you to marry me. They'll have a hard time dealing with that since they expect the reverse. They may tell me you are too old for me. I won't have any trouble with that. I can debate it just fine. If they jump on you, tell them I'm not old enough yet. That will totally kill their ability to pick a fight and argue if you agree with them."
Eileen stopped talking and frowned. She was silent for so long Vic was trying to formulate a question to politely ask what was wrong.
“There’s something else you can do for me,” Eileen said.
“I’ll certainly try,” Vic promised.
“Do you have a note pad or some paper on you?”
“Yes, and a mechanical pencil,” Vic said.
“I want you to write down how to get to your home,” Eileen asked, “just in case I need to do that.”
Vic wanted to tell her traveling the roads alone was too dangerous. But she’d walked across most of the state already. It seemed insulting to imply she wasn’t well aware of that.
“I can do better. I’ll draw a map,” Vic offered and started on the task. “I’ll note several families I think would be safe to shelter with along the way.”
“You have a gun on you don’t you?” Eileen asked.
“Of course!” Vic said, smiling like that was funny.
“Well, do you have a back-up pistol too?” she demanded. “One you could spare to leave with me?”
“I’m amazed how much you have me figured out. I have a full size pistol with three magazines and a smaller framed pistol in a lighter caliber. But it only has the one magazine in it, and a handful of loose cartridges in my pocket.”
“I can shoot the big one, but I don’t want to send you back out on the road short for your own protection,” Eileen said.
“I have my rifle in a scabbard with my saddle and bags. I’d go to that for any serious trouble anyway. The smaller pistol would be easier to hide if you are going to carry it. I can’t imagine how you could hide either of them living so close with people day to day. Sooner or later taking a bath or changing clothes somebody is going to discover it.”
“I’m going to hide it. I have a place and a good plastic bag in my pocket to keep it dry,” Eileen revealed. “I won’t retrieve it until I leave to come meet you, or things get so uncomfortable with the family I just have to leave.”
“Eileen, are you being abused?” Vic worried. “Tell me if you need rescued right now. I’d take you, not to my house, folks wouldn’t support that. But I know a big family, good people, who would shelter you on my say-so until we can wed.”
“I’m not being abused in any sense you’d mean. I am being disrespected and if they try to tell me I have to stay home and can’t come to the get-togethers with everybody else because I’d see you there, I will just walk off. They have guns and I could take one of them, but they’re a major asset of the household. They might seriously consider taking one theft, because I never had a gun pre-Day that was considered mine. I don’t want it for them, but for the road if I have to walk away.”
“My back is to the house,” Vic said. “Is it safe to hand my pistol over and they aren’t spying out the window at us?”
“Yeah, if you lean forward I think from down there at the house they’d just think you were taking my hand. There’s a reason I took a shorter log section to sit on. They can’t see me much, if at all, beyond you. I know my mom, if dad tried watching with the binoculars she’d give him a real hard time. She’d probably ask him if he was taking up lip reading.”
“You planned this all out with the bag and the seating,” Vic observed.
“I planned it out a couple weeks ago,” Eileen assured him.
Vic leaned forward and placed the pistol and magazines into her hands. He did it smoothly and held the pose for awhile before easing back on his seat and upright, rather than seem furtive about it.
“What’s this?” Eileen asked. There was a paper cylinder closed with tape along with the gun and magazines.
“A roll of quarters, the real old silver ones. If you do have to walk away folks will take that over paper money. You could buy stuff with the ammo too, but it’s too precious to trade for something common like a meal,” Vic suggested.
“Thank you,” Eileen said. “I consider all this my betrothal gift.”
“I’ll tell them you are too young just like you suggested if they try to argue,” Vic agreed. “But I'll also tell them I'd be a fool to turn you down flat for the future," Vic said. "Let them argue with that. That’s your gun now, even if something happens we can’t marry. No adult should be without one in this post-Day world. Now, if you tell me what size you wear, I'll try to have a ring for you."
"That's so sweet, but I have no idea. I'm still growing so much what would fit today might be tight by next fall!" Eileen said, holding her hand up to show him.
Vic smiled and assured her that was just fine.
* * *
The construction of the Hringhorni didn’t have to be inferred from watching supply orders and spying on shipments. It was in the open now on the edge of controlled space ten kilometers from Home. Having to deal with Traffic Control for having materials and modules moved to the site was plenty enough trouble without trying to control all the little movements of scooters and workers tightly enough to make Home Control happy.
This wasn’t a scooter Dave could build in his shop and fit in a lift, though sub-assemblies could be made in pressure and taken over to be fitted. The expense went up now because the build required full time security until everything was sealed up and in the final hull. The nose had a fairing for privacy that projected out from under the forward viewports to accommodate the jump drive machinery. Jeff didn’t want to give any hint about its form.
That undoubtedly had people talking because it wasn’t an aerodynamic lander so it didn’t need a nose cone. Jeff had no idea what they might conclude he needed to hide, and when his device was installed the nose would be draped with a security tent and everything hidden from prying eyes very carefully.
* * *
After Vic’s visit there was an uneasy truce for a few weeks. There wasn’t as much light hearted chatter as before, though Eileen was neither punished nor frozen out of their conversations. It’s just, where before they brought things up about what they intended to do or take to the next gathering, now instead of saying it, they looked at her and frowned, because it just reminded them she intended to leave them, and on terms they didn’t approve.
Like so many disapproving parents they failed to consider what sort of relationship they expected to have with her after she left, and ruined the time she had left with them to no purpose. For Eileen it left her resentful that her parents didn’t seem to remember that she had found and insisted they investigate the wrecked semi that had been the key to their survival. It had allowed them to winter over safely on the journey to get her to her grandparent’s cabin.
The evening news had the sort of extra news they got on occasion, gossip really. The news from Nevada, was pretty much the same as the guy who flew stuff in on his light plane was saying, that Texas was expanding west into Arizona, and Utah was doing the same from the north while making Federal officials very unwelcome. To the point many were taking a hint and leaving the state. Nevada didn’t have enough people to argue with anybody. Las Vegas was pretty much a ghost town and the pilot was embarrassed to say that right now, pretty much nobody wanted to bother to take them over from any direction. They were in a sort of limbo with a lot of agencies and services simply not functional.
That started a discussion of how long they would be in semi-isolation themselves. It looked like it might be several years before the roads were safe, open and maintained, with patrols and fuel available with any certainty. When getting to a hospital for a really severe injury wouldn’t be pointless due to the travel time and difficulty involved.
Somehow her father found this all a reason to put off marriage. Eileen asked how long he thought would be sufficient, perhaps until she was thirty? She pointed out people had been getting married since before hospitals or gas stations or most other modern sources of safety and convenience. That they got married and walked across the continent behind wagons. That cycled everything back to the real issue.
"He's too old for you," her father said, just as she expected. "He could die on you, or worse last just long enough to leave you children to take care of, and then die on you."
"Young and stupid can do the same. I can name you a few who already have a reputation for reckless. As you just said, there's no EMS to call now, and they act like it doesn't matter. Vic has demonstrated he could deal with life both before and after The Day. If he croaks at least he has something to leave me besides some memories," Eileen pointed out.
"Folks will think you're a gold digger," Jonathan warned, from down table.
Eileen looked shocked before she remembered what that meant to his generation. Then she laughed, twice as hard because she was laughing at herself for thinking he meant the currently out of vogue term quite literally.
"I see you're really worried about that," he said, embarrassed at her attitude.
"Grandfather, I'm practical. I didn't see a single young fellow at the fall festival that had a lick of sense. None of them have their own land and won't unless they squat somewhere. The few who might inherit land I don't even trust to be able to keep it. Their brains are still stuck pre-Day and half of them haven't got a clue which way to turn a bolt to loosen it or how to sharpen a knife. They want to marry for sex, a cook, and somebody to wash their clothes. A servant in other words, I suspect that damn near a slave is how it will really work for some of the poor girls who don’t figure that out."
Her grandpa didn't chastise her for swearing. He knew it for the truth.
"The boys my age, notice I don't say men, all talk a good talk about equality. That seems to mean they don't have to display any manners. I don't really want to be treated like one of the boys. I want to be treated better."
"Folks will think ill of you for chasing after an older man," her grandpa insisted.
"I think you’re more worried what they will think of you or the rest of the family for not reining me in. Young love was fine when you could go to school and not face any real adult responsibilities until you got to graduate school. That's not going to hack it again for a good long while. Or do you think I should be chasing some fellow who is waiting for things to normalize so he can get his MBA like he planned and start making a good salary?
"Who exactly would you pick for me? We're not so far out of the valley that some young guy couldn't ride up here and display some interest if he had a mind to. There's not even one of them with the gumption to do that, because they're afraid of facing you two. They're probably even afraid of facing Mom."
Indeed, her grandmother finally spoke up. "If you have to market Eileen to get any interest, there is a sad lack of appreciation evident. I suppose next thing you'll want to be talking about dowries?"
Neither man felt it safe to reply to that, and the sharp look Eileen's mother, Cindy, gave them didn't pass unnoticed. Feelings were running so high, and trending higher, that they dropped the topic for the evening. Eileen missed the easy banter and close feeling that was missing now, but neither was she willing to pretend she was nine years old and had no idea what she wanted from life either.
The possibility they might be scared of her moving off, out of easy reach, and they would lose the security she represented for them as they got older, never occurred to her, and they’d never have said it aloud even if they admitted it to themselves.
Besides hospitals and drug stores there weren’t any functioning nursing homes and pension checks didn’t get deposited to a local bank to replenish your credit card. Those things might be slow coming back too.
Anybody male who would take the easy way of joining their household and being a very junior partner for years and years instead of making his own way wouldn’t attract her at all.
* * *
“Lindsey explained how her certificates work, dear. That’s really quite an interesting system. I like how they have to return it for verification so you have control of the process,” Diana said. “The application I’d apply it to is even simpler, because I don’t have to return a new certificate of authenticity, it’s for a payment system and once payment is made I’m done with that customer.”
“You don’t have to see my bit pieces then?” Eric asked, disappointed. “Let me at least show you the video of them being made.”
“Alright, but let’s have a bite first,” Diana said. “We were waiting on you.”
“That’s amazing,” Diana said later, tactfully, “but I’ll be honest and hope you take it for sincere help instead of criticism, Dear. Most non-technical people are very… superficial. They like neat enclosures and controls that look like they were custom made for a machine. You could have the very best pad in the world,” she said, hefting the device on which she’d watched the video, “but if it was clunky with sharp corners, screw heads sticking out, and plain ugly colors nobody would value it. You’ll want to learn to pretty things up for when you need to make a presentation to investors. They won’t believe it’s dependable and efficient if it doesn’t look a lot more polished.”
“Or, I can try really hard not to deal with superficial people,” Eric said, but he wasn’t arguing, he was really considering it as an easier solution that making an attractive housing.
“Maybe that’s easier done here on Home than on Earth,” Diana allowed. “But I watched a couple of my husbands present proposals to very rich clients, and as my dear grandmother used to say, some of the richest of them didn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”
“I don’t know much about geese,” Eric allowed, “pretty bad?”
“Indeed. I won’t ruin your evening with depressing stories. Let’s just say that I have no trouble wrapping my head around it when April starts talking about Earth Think, and there are reasons things are such a mess down there.”
Eric nodded. “I appreciate your instruction.”
Diana looked at him sharply, but he appeared to mean it.
“I’m looking to sell lottery tickets. Do you think you could run them through your machine? Would you be interested? Or would your mom want to stop it because it’s gambling?”
Eric took another bite of strudel and considered it.
“If I can make a little money off it, of course I’m interested. I can’t run it through the present machine, because I have it running full time and it is barely keeping up. We really should build another one so if this breaks down we can rebuild it instead of just rushing to fix the thing that busted.
“If you make the lottery tickets the same width and thickness I can just copy the machine. But if they’re much different it’ll take a whole new design. I might be able to make a printer and embosser that can be adjusted to different sized jobs. We probably learned enough doing this one to succeed at that.”
“Who are we?” Diana demanded.
“I’ve got people,” Eric said. “Employees not partners, so you don’t have to worry I might make a deal and a partner veto it.”
“Not my worry at all, but you’re right, they’re not my concern,” Diana said.
“As far as my mom, she doesn’t even know I make the bits. I’d love to brag on them and other stuff to her, but you see what happened with Lindsey. She might figure what’s mine is mine and what’s Eric’s is mine too. I don’t see how because Jeff wouldn’t pay it to her and I’d just stop making them anyhow, but I’m scared to see how angry she could be if she just tells me to fork it over and I refuse.”
No wonder the kid wanted to show off his machine, Diana realized.
“I think I have a couple tickets in my purse, just to show you what they look like.” Diana came back with it and started digging everything out on the table.
Eric watched amazed. That changed to disbelief when the pile of things on the table grew bigger than the purse. It must work something like compressing a data file Eric decided. The key seemed to be tissue paper as a media.
“Here they are. One was a ten buck winner, but it isn’t worth driving all the way back down the mountain for ten bucks,” Diana complained.
Eric looked at the tickets, and his heart sank. “These are so fancy… If you want them metalized with bright colors and all these graphics it’s going to take some design time. You’ll probably have to have them printed on Earth still. I don’t know anybody on Home who does flashy stuff like this. Are you sure you need physical tickets? You could just do it all digitally with a code.”
“No, if I distribute tickets people will know it isn’t just a scam and I’m not just spoofing the whole thing existing. That’s too easy to do online. Maybe later I can do fancy,” Diana decided on the spot. “They are pretty garish. And these are the sort of smaller games they keep changing every few months. I’m going to go for one big jackpot. We can take the high road and make the ticket a lot more conservative. Maybe just use a complicated logo, something classy like a coat of arms. The administrative costs for a bunch of little prizes would be prohibitive.”
“I’d want the same that Jeff pays me, a half percent of gross and he covers the cost of consumables like paper. I build and maintain my own equipment and own it.” He scrunched up his face deep in thought… “This is risky, isn’t it?” Eric asked.
“Well sure. But people know that,” Diana assured him. “Some of the big games in North America you only have one chance in a couple hundred million of winning the big prize. It’s a weird thing, anybody with the mathematical awareness of a fruit fly knows it’s a terrible bet, but people are buying the dream, not seriously thinking they will win.” Diana frowned and remembered something. “I promised April a percent just for the idea. I’ll give you a full percent too.”
“Thank you, but I meant risky for you. I assume you have to pay out even if you don’t sell enough tickets to cover the prize. I’m pretty sure online begging sites and sites that are for fund raising projects won’t touch this. If you didn’t make goal and had to pay people back who paid you with their card, the transaction fees alone would eat you up. Are you rich?” Eric asked.
“I’m, not hurting… but your point is well taken. I won’t risk more than I can cover,” Diana promised. “I’m the counter party in this bet if you think about it.”
Eric scrunched his eyebrows together deep in thought. Lindsey looked up from down the table and seemed alarmed.
“I know that look,” she told Eric. “It’s Diana’s idea. You aren’t thinking of competing with her before she even gets her first game for sale are you? I didn’t hear her demand confidentiality and a non-compete agreement, but it wouldn’t be nice to do that to her.”
“No, no, no such thing,” Eric insisted. But Diana noted he didn’t say he couldn’t. Neither did he protest that he’d never consider doing such a thing. She made a mental note to set those terms and more first, next time. “I was just thinking what Irving would tell me. I’m learning a lot of financial stuff from him, and he’d advise spreading the risk. Especially just starting out and you have no idea how people will respond, first offering.”
He looked back at Diana. “I know you’d like to make a killing on it, but if you aren’t a hundred percent sure it’ll fly, and don’t want to be ruined if it doesn’t, then bring in some partners to dilute your exposure.”
Diana smiled at how comfortable this kid was using business jargon. He sounded more like her third husband than a teenager.
“That seems like excellent advice,” Diana said around her grin. “How much were you interested in buying in?” she teased him.
He leaned back and dug in his pants pocket. He got a fistful of coins out of a leather change purse and considered them carefully before putting a few back. “How about twenty Solars?” Eric asked, putting them on the table. “Now… this is separate from any agreement to do your printing. I’ll do that, and any electronic version you want to add later, for my percent. With this I’m buying an interest in shared profits like anybody else after expenses. So I’ll be sharing in paying myself. It’s a little complicated so sit down and write it out right now to make sure we keep it all straight later. If you talk to Lindsey real sweet I bet she’ll buy into a chunk of it too.”
“That is… five hundred grams of gold?” Diana asked in a small voice.
“Yeah, a half kilo,” Eric agreed, oblivious to her surprise.
“Eric, Honey.”
“Yes ma’am?” he said politely.
“I appreciate your instruction,” she told him truthfully.

Chapter 12
The Hringhorni was functional except for minor sub-systems and supplies. Jeff brought Deloris and Kurt from the Moon to ferry her back to Central for a final outfitting. Alice wasn’t really needed for the short hop.
Jeff saw to it Heather’s new flag was painted by the airlock. He got a kick out of seeing it. He realized he was more concerned about it than she was, but he appreciated symbolism. The way he named his ships showed that.
They now had an automated radio beacon to use as a claim marker at each planetoid. Jeff was surprised when April wanted to know exactly how they intended to use them. He just figured you dropped each off on the surface and turned them on. What could be simpler?
April didn’t want them turned on until they had them all placed. If something went wrong she didn’t want the Earthies to know, she wanted a chance to fix it quietly. She also wanted the radios to orbit each body so they couldn’t get stuck behind one as it rotated and undetectable from Earth for long periods. Bringing them online one by one would tell the Earth nations entirely too much about how quickly they could move from place to place. The psychological impact of having them all come on line at the same time would be beneficial too. Firing them up one after the other would draw out their displeasure and arguments more than getting it over all at once. Jeff couldn’t understand why that should be, but was willing to concede she understood people better than him.
The radios were fusion powered, and would require refueling in a couple years. That seemed a reasonable limitation since they’d be dropping off some French mills that would have to be recovered sooner anyway. The beacons repeated a message saying the planetoid was claimed by the Sovereign of Central, being actively mined, and that the automated machinery on site was owned and actively working, not abandoned.
Jeff kindly dissuaded April from asking they take a spare radio since he’d neglected to buy one. He promised to have another built, but not delay their launch to wait for it. If one needed to be replaced, excessive flight time to do so was no longer a factor. April reluctantly agreed. The four radios were compact, but the two French mills they had been able to prepare for the harsher conditions, took a substantial portion of the cargo space in the new vessel. Four would have been difficult to fit.
Heather pointed out there would be little surprise if they maintained a constant radio chatter between all the locations they were leaving claims markers and the Moon or Home. Anybody with a decent radio telescope could easily become aware something was happening out there from their traffic. So they agreed to let their crew work in radio silence unless they had an emergency.
Kurt inquired in the most innocent and neutral voice if this new mission was to be included under the terms they already established for shares in extra-solar claims, or if they needed to negotiate a separate compensation agreement?
Jeff looked like he’d taken an arrow to the chest, speechless for a moment.
April, speaking up quickly before he recovered, said there was plenty of profit to go around and no reason to get cheap with them now. The last said, looking Jeff in the eye, sternly.
“If you had tried to set different terms with Kurt for the crew,” April informed Jeff after Kurt was gone, “I can assure you he was prepared to hold out for better pay not less. He didn’t just think of that and mention it offhand. He had it all scripted out beforehand with his partners. If you’d argued with him he might very well have told you to fly the damn thing yourself.”
“Oh,” Jeff said, and just nodded, short of words.
“You can’t blame them really,” April insisted. “I know they are getting a base pay, but that’s survival money. You know they wouldn’t do this kind of risky work for that alone. It may be years before any profits from star exploration can be cashed out. Eventually, owning a huge chunk of land on a distant planet is fine, but you can’t take it down to the club right now and buy a beer with it. These bodies are close enough we’ll have some pay-out in hand soon. I’m betting within the year unless the output of the French mills is a total bust.”
The Hringhorni lifted from the Moon with no destination declared, and very little public comment. There was some speculation on the lunar and Home gossip boards, but silence as far as their clipping services and what informants reported from Earth.
April and her partners privately wondered if any of the Earth intelligence agencies held any opinions. Or if one private Central registered vessel was beneath their notice. Indeed, other than accepting traffic requests, there was no official acknowledgment that Central existed. Central didn’t have a treaty with any Earth powers like Home supposedly possessed, whatever the status or dubious benefit that had at the moment. Nor any embassies. Even China in dealing with Jeff and Heather had framed everything as a verbal agreement. There was no fancy printed treaty with seals and signatures. His word meant something, and their word better, if they knew what was good for them.
Going a couple weeks without news was more nerve racking than any of them anticipated. Jeff was of the opinion their crew was probably happier not needing to make periodic reports and just get on with their job. He repeated that often enough April decided he was convincing himself anew of it each time.
* * *
“Yes, yes, I realize there are less than five thousand people on Home and the Moon. I didn’t intend to limit us to that for the lotto,” Diana said. “I hoped to sell to Earth too. There are space nuts in almost every country.”
“You do realize almost all the nations and territories on Earth have their own lotteries and will take a dim view of you competing with them?” Sylvia said. “They will either outlaw playing yours or set a confiscatory tax on winning from outside their jurisdiction.”
“Yeah, Hawaii didn’t have one for the longest time. To compete it has to be something worth coming here to claim the prize,” Diana said. “Lots of people already want to come to Home. A decent prize might make it possible.”
“But the problem is still the housing shortage. I don’t think you could raise enough money to buy even the smallest two person apartment as a prize,” Sylvia warned.
“No, I looked into that for myself,” Diana admitted. “One unit sold in the last year and it was listed for cash sale in Solars only and there was a nondisclosure agreement for the final price. The rest were all trades in kind to size up or down.
“How about where my dad works, on the Moon?” Eric asked. “Heather still sells lots at Central. He got property as part of his pay.”
“Yes, but it’s just land and you need a lot of money to put in your own infrastructure,” Lindsey said. “You need everything, just like living in a ship. It’s harder even than coming to Home,” Lindsey said.
“And you don’t want your winner come to Home ill prepared and not be able to make a go of it. A lot of lotto winners on Earth can’t handle their winnings and go bust. If word gets around they ended up worse off than before, it’ll hurt sales even if it wasn’t our fault,” Sylvia said.
“Forget offering real estate as a prize for now,” Diana decided, “maybe we can do that some time in the future, when the market isn’t so crazy.”
“A cash prize won’t work either,” Eric said. “Solars are illegal a bunch of places and gold itself is illegal to hold more countries than not.”
“Want to put your house up?” Sylvia asked Diana. “If you’re going to stay here do you really need a Hawaiian vacation home?”
“I’m not ready to cut the cord,” Diana said, “and the political situation still isn’t settled to my mind. The more radical factions there that want to depopulate the islands and only allow Hawaiians might still get the ascendancy. Or create so much trouble people don’t want to go there until it is settled. I want something for a prize that is space oriented, not a one-time Hawaiian thing.”
“Well what do we make here that would make a decent lotto prize?” Lindsey asked. “Everything I can think of is a bunch of little units, electronics or drugs. We can’t afford a place to live, and I bet it’s just as far out of reach to buy a spaceship right now.” That made everybody smile.
“How about one of your drawings or a glass panel like you two are working on?” Eric asked. “Art shouldn’t be prohibited on Earth.”
“It is some places, but I can sell all I want,” Lindsey protested. “I don’t want to look like I needed to do that to move it. Anyway, it’s not big enough to fire up people’s imaginations. We need something that motivates them.”
“Silly me!” Diana declared suddenly. “Why did I come to Home?”
“For the abundance of rich single men?” Sylvia asked.
“Hush you, there are impressionable children present,” Diana said.
Eric looked over both shoulders like he might find them.
“Life Extension Therapy,” Diana announced, smiling.
“Isn’t it illegal on Earth?” Lindsey asked.
“Not everywhere,” Diana insisted. “And most places just restrict it, Switzerland, Italy, and Iceland allow limited life extension, a lot more let you fix things seen as defects. It’s a significant market. Just China alone is wide open. You can buy anything you can afford and anything they will do, but Home has the best reputation for quality, and Ames, who I used, is the best of the best. There are still stories that make people worry about the safety of it, and China selling weird stuff like webbed feet and hands doesn’t make people trust LET any better let me tell you. People can picture going to sleep with the wrong drip in their arm and waking up looking like a frog.”
“What will you call the game?” Eric asked, wondering how difficult his printing job would be. “The LET Lotto?”
“A lot of people aren’t familiar with that acronym or it doesn’t even make sense in their language,” Diana said. “Call it the Life Lotto. It has more emotional appeal and can make sense in translation.”
They all looked at each other and nodded agreement.
“Dr. Ames has a couple very tiny rooms for transient patients,” Sylvia remembered. “We could offer it as a medical vacation. I like it. Throw in a lift ticket and a one week card for the cafeteria. It’s a nice package.”
“Maybe offer two prizes in two games,” Lindsey suggested. “For one person, or a double package that would attract married couples. We can get a hotel room for them if we plan well ahead. I think maybe we can fund both offers at once.
“Are you going to buy a few tickets?” Diana asked Lindsey
“I can afford to have it done right now,” Lindsey assured her. “I just know Dr. Ames won’t treat me before I’m emancipated, and my mom would never OK it.”
“Wouldn’t your dad allow it?” Diana wondered.
“Yeah, if I want to be the final controversy that made my mom and dad split up. I’ll wait a couple years still rather than get blamed for that the rest of my life. It’s a near thing right now, and I can tell you my mom will never admit anything is her fault. Guess who is handiest to blame if they argue over me?” Lindsey raised her hand just in case Diana had any doubt.
Diana felt terrible. She kept dredging up unpleasant stuff for these kids.
* * *
Adam, AKA agent 71, was turned over by Meijer to two security men who took him to his room. He shared it with another fellow in food service, but he was off at work so they didn’t have to deal with him. He was told to pack everything he owned because he wouldn’t be coming back.
He fit everything he owned in a big soft bag easily, leaving his linens. They were issue and he figured he’d have new ones wherever they sent him. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed alcohol and didn’t want to ask, so he took his half bottle of vodka over to his room mate’s side and left it on the com desk along with an opened bag of snacks. What he really worried about was his computer, but they didn’t react at all when he put it in its bag and hung it from his shoulder. He had a load with both bags but neither offered to give him a hand.
Looking around it felt funny to leave the only place he’d stayed since coming to Mars, but he turned back to his escort and said, “Let’s go.”
They went straight to transport and entered a passenger rover through a short connector. Passenger rover meaning it had six seats latched in take-holds in the cargo deck. The driver or his assistant came back and asked if he had a pad. When he produced it the fellow not only turned the satellite location app off, but uninstalled it before handing it back. That was unnerving.
It was a long ride with two other men in the passenger seats who not only didn’t talk to him, but they never passed a word between them. The ride was pretty smooth so they must not be riding off across virgin ground. He thought of checking the time after awhile but decided it might look like he was trying to time the trip. Since they didn’t want him able to locate where he was going that might arouse suspicions. He’d know approximately anyway.
It was dark when they finally arrived and Adam was taken straight to a room for the night, but escorted by only one guard here. He wasn’t fed on the rover and it was well past supper time, but someone had thought to leave him a scrambled egg sandwich and a big can of self-heating stew in his room. There wasn’t anything to drink with it, but he had a tiny private bath with a tap. Any source of water here should be safe and potable.
It was only about an hour past his usual bed time after he ate. The room com had no message signals blinking, so he just set an alarm on his pad, giving himself an extra half hour rather than mess with a new com. That let him check the time without making a show of doing so. Until he had firm reason to believe otherwise he’d assume he was under constant surveillance.
* * *
The Hringhorni reappeared in translunar space and braked for lunar orbit and a Central landing. It was hours ahead of the wave front following it from the outer system announcing Central’s annexation of the selected planetoids. Indeed, the crew had opportunity to land and have a celebratory dinner with the Sovereign and her business partners before the radio transmissions arrived. It wasn’t until the Earth had time to make almost a full turn before there was any response from any Earth agencies. April started getting the news feeds through her com filters that evening.
European News Agency: The declaration of ownership by this tiny lunar regime is a public relations ploy without any basis in reality. The laws and treaties of nations reaching into the previous century prohibit exclusive exploitation of heavenly resources. There is no support for this assertion of ownership and it will come to nothing when any of the major powers wish otherwise.
Reuters: The question unanswered by all the agencies reporting transmissions from the outer system claiming ownership of certain minor bodies is – how were these radio transmitters positioned, or is it a case of fakery by other means from a much closer source?
North American Coalition News: The claims by the Central government on the Moon are clearly illegal and void. No other acknowledgement is necessary.
Western Association of Chinese Territories: This pronouncement of the Central Dictatorship is simply an extension of their customary acts of banditry.
Eastern Alliance of Chinese States: The illegal claims of the Lunar State are in support of the outlaw Western Association and running-dog Western powers.
International Astronomical Association: It is expected that as the named bodies progress along their known orbital paths the apparent source of these radio transmissions will divulge from their seeming locations and reveal their true locations and distances. It is not within the launch capacity of any nation to have placed these signal sources on the claimed bodies, so it will be revealed as an elaborate fraud.
Asian Press International: Text message to account 1, Heather Anderson, LunarNet / Central. Inquiry for publication: Do you have any comment or reply to the accusations of your new territorial claims being in breach of established international law?
Reply received: Leges Humanae Nascuntur, Vivunt, Et Moriuntur
Oh that was snippy. April loved it when Heather got a serious snit on. She typed in a command. “Give me a random sample of North American news stories from the last twenty four hours.” Sometimes she did that simply because it made her aware of things that would never get through her own preconceptions when she set filters, and it was just entertaining. She’d tried reading English language news from other countries and found it perplexing and unintelligible.
Jackson, Mississippi: The state government of Mississippi has moved the state capital to Hattiesburg, following the annexation of its western territory and capital by Texas. The governor at last report was still in his Jackson office refusing to leave, and denouncing the lack of support from the Federal government to oppose the annexation of western Mississippi by Texas. A measure in the Mississippi legislature to declare Governor Heath has abandoned his position and is no longer a resident of Mississippi after thirty days has been passed over the objections of the Lieutenant Governor. The state Supreme Court is expected to hear the issue when they are relocated and can hear cases again.
Nevada/Oregon: Expired California driver licenses will not be accepted as ID for interstate travel controls to Nevada and Oregon. The oldest issued licenses are expiring and there is no functioning State Department of Motor Vehicles to renew them or issue new. The issue is expected to be less of a problem at the Nevada border as there is no current presence of Nevada police or agricultural agents. The Oregon border however is actively manned at major highways.
Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio: The trial of the leader of Buckeyes for Property Rights has been postponed after the disappearance of Mark Lawrence, the third judge to take the case on his docket. Previously Judge De Costa resigned rather than take the case after the disappearance of Judge Edwards, Judge Hastings, and the Cuyahoga County prosecutor John Fleming.
Charlotte, North Carolina: The Court of Appeals has ruled in Mecklenburg County vs. The Diamond Brokers, that the merchandise being delivered by the Charlotte Driverless Taxi Service in a vehicle electronically disabled by the Mecklenburg County Sheriffs was the responsible guilty party for the traffic offense committed and may be retained in forfeiture.
Tallahassee, Florida: The state has issued a ban on modular homes, or manufactured homes, commonly referred to as trailer homes even if never outfitted with wheels, overriding all local zoning. The bill was popularly known as the Tornado Magnet Bill. The legislature also made wearing purple shirts for jury duty illegal due to their association with jury nullification proponents.
Kidron, Ohio: Amish elders complain the requirement that horse buggies must carry equipment to stop and clean horse excrement left on public highways or use diapers is unsafe, burdensome, and discriminatory.
South Carolina: Legislators, unable to come to an agreement over a number of contentious issues, tabled them indefinitely on the last day and agreed to return the state bird from the Carolina Wren back to the Northern Mockingbird before closing the current session.
Atlanta, Georgia: The Peach House Theatre refused to rent the venue to the Canton, Ohio band Lucy Lips saying the group displayed salacious debauchery, suggestive lyrics and played with their shirt collars unbuttoned.
Seattle, Washington: City Council announced pommers would no longer be hired for city jobs, and those associated with them had no place in public service.
It sounded pretty much like business as usual to April. She had no idea who or what a pommer was, and wondered if in a couple decades Earth English and Spacer English would diverge beyond mutual understanding.
* * *
The next morning there was a message light blinking on Adam’s room com when his pad woke him up. The software turned out to be exactly the same as his previous room. He’d worried about that when so tired last night and it turned out to be a silly concern. He was told to expect a guide and orientation at 0900.
A guide at least sounded better than a guard, and o900 left him plenty of time to get ready, almost two hours. He usually had breakfast earlier, but they had fed him supper last night. He didn’t want call to ask about it and maybe start off with a reputation as a complainer.
There was a knock on his door rather than com message at exactly 0900. When he answered there was a new fellow he didn’t know in a plain khaki outfit that had the appearance of work clothing more than a uniform. It had flap pockets on the shirt and a stretch mesh belt, which was unusual for Mars. He had a bag that was clearly breakfast, because Adam could smell it, and a small duffel. Adam hoped he wasn’t a roommate and they wouldn’t have to do shifts like staying in cheap rental hot-slots.
“Good morning, I’m Gerald. I brought you breakfast rather than have you in the mess before orientation. These are what you will use for duty uniforms if you’d like to change,” Gerald invited, handing the duffle to Adam.
“Thank you. They left a supper for me when we got in rather late last night. I appreciated that and wondered what the arrangement would be this morning. I’ll eat this before changing so I don’t get anything on the new clothes. Sit where you please.” Adam invited with a wave of his hand.
The fellow was younger than him and unarmed, which was encouraging. He sat on the chair for the com desk and turned it to face the room. Adam emptied the duffle on the bed and examined the clothing. He had five identical outfits and one belt. They didn’t supply shoes and they had his size right. There were no rank markings to go with the pseudo-uniforms and no name tag. The odd thing was his outfits were noticeably darker than the other fellow’s.
The man waited patiently while he had the two breakfast sandwiches and coffee. It was the same he often had down to the coffee being black, so he wondered if his preferences had been recorded and forwarded here. The odd thing was the young man seemed very formal and polite with him, like he had some sort of unspoken rank or status of which he wasn’t aware.
When he was done with breakfast he used the lavatory, but it was quite cramped and he changed sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’ll put these away when I get back. Would you show me where you take your laundry here? And will they do your personal things?”
“You don’t have to take your things in. Just leave them in the bag outside your door overnight. Your civilian clothing can be done, but the first tier workers always wear their issue clothing, even off duty.”
First tier, huh? Adam didn’t comment on that.
“I’m ready,” Adam told Gerald. He led the way out as soon as Adam stood.
“This is residence hall B.” Gerald informed him. When they came to the main corridor he pointed across. “That’s hall A. There are sixteen suites on each side, but they aren’t usually all full. That’s the way to transport and the way you came in last night,” he said pointing left.
“The lights were turned down and I was dead tired. It looks a lot different now,” Adam admitted.
“This is the way to the restricted area,” Gerald said, turning right. “I’ll drop you off at the entry. None of the support people wearing khaki can go in there.”
It wasn’t far until the corridor dead-ended. There was a large freight door and a man-door set apart to the extremes of the corridor width. Gerald used a intercom on the wall beside the man-door and got a garbled response Adam couldn’t understand. Gerald must have understood, because he said, “Someone will be right out for you,” and he left.
The fellow who answered the door was older with hair turning at the temples and a serious demeanor. He had the same light duty uniform with no insignia. He examined Adam critically and Adam had to wonder why? Certainly he had several photos in his file.
“I’ve seen your profile and talked to the Director about you. However, I run things my own way here, so I’m going to make you an offer again, if you are having second thoughts tell me right now. I’ll send you back to Pavonis Mons and they will probably send you back to Earth rather than reintegrate you there. Once you come in this door you’re committed.”
“Thank you for the offer. I’m confident of my decision,” Adam told him.
The fellow allowed himself a small smile. “Then I’m sub-director Hershwin. Follow me,” he said, and Adam noted he didn’t offer his hand.
There was a wall immediately inside, placed to obstruct the view from the main door. Hershwin walked around it and to a long counter that served as a common desk looking down on the interior of a large building, of a size to remind Adam of an aircraft hangar. It was about eighty meters to the far wall and it ran at least that far on each side to the right and left. The windows that looked down on it were tilted out at the top, in the form of a gallery, with ground level about ten meters down. However, there was no floor, and in the center the Martian soil was excavated lower in spots. There were lots of small lights overhead so shadows were minimized, and the lighting was not as harsh as usual for a warehouse or sports venue.
“I’ve found it better just to show new people what we are doing directly, rather than waste time trying to ease the shock,” Hershwin said.
And it lets you gauge them better to see how they react, Adam thought, because the man was still watching him closely.
The operation below looked like an archeological dig. There were stakes with bright cords and colored flags marking off areas, and walkways to avoid trampling other plots. In a few places they had gone to the trouble to cantilever a walkway in from the side to work an area without disturbing anything around it.
To the right was a jumble of shapes that reminded Adam of a very bad ground car wreck, comprised of twisted and compressed shapes that could have never been built that way. In front of them were shapes with flat surfaces and straight lines. There was a cable hanging down and Adam looked up and realized there was a gantry crane that could reach anywhere over the whole site.
“You’ve found a building!” Adam said, amazed. “There were actual Martians!”
“That’s the initial reaction about half the people have, at first glance,” Hershwin said. “It’s a very good guess and close. It’s a space ship, but definitely not Martian. Indeed, we seriously doubt it originated in this Solar System.”
Adam stood looking down at it for several minutes, Hershwin letting him think on it and absorb it.
“Alright, I already threw out one foolish guess. You’ve had much longer to think on this than me. If you have to even qualify that it’s probably not of this system it must be unimaginably old… so how old? Are there any remains? And what does this mean to us on Mars and the rest of humanity? Give me the benefit of your thoughts on it. You’ve had some time to consider all the ramifications. You didn’t build this last week,” Adam said, waving at the building. It was probably the biggest structure on Mars.
“Very good,” Hershwin said. “A few people have come unhinged when they saw this. One fellow had to be sedated and frankly, he’s still not right.”
“Maybe I’m too stupid to be properly shocked,” Adam said.
“Not stupid, but some have deep set beliefs. They harbor conflicting religious beliefs and assumptions of racial superiority. This is why it’s a secret. We expect revealing it would produce chaos in some parts of Earth. Markets would have no idea how to respond. Factions who saw it as blasphemous would lash out. Some would panic as if they were expecting them to come back as invaders any day. There are those that would probably destroy the site if it were within their power. I can assure you many would immediately declare it a fraud without stopping to consider it for a second,” Hershwin said.
“I can see some of that,” Adam admitted. He forcibly calmed himself, not to scream in Hershwin’s face what he really thought. Not everybody was a fool to come unhinged over such a revelation. It was hubris in the extreme to think you were the elite of humanity to take it upon yourself to hide such an important discovery from everyone. There were thousands of people in all sorts of specialties who could contribute to understanding this. Sometimes you just had to accept you were going to upset some fools and do it anyway.
But to say that would be the death of him. What he said was more measured.
“I’m not sure what I can contribute. I see the people down there are working in suits. I don’t have a lot of experience outside pressure, nothing like a construction worker. It seems to me you could really use an experienced archaeologist to supervise this just like any dig.”
“Anybody can learn suit procedures,” Hershwin said, and waved it away as irrelevant. “We do have a professional archaeologist telling everybody how to document things. Not only would it take an insane amount of air to put the site under pressure, it would have made building the cover much more difficult as it would need to be much stronger, and the breathable air might damage things that have been preserved. Its function right now is to hide the site from observation and keep new dust from being blown onto the site.
“You will probably be instructed how to help with some simple hand digging in time, but we need help with data entry, cleaning objects, documenting them and other tasks. We have a limited pool of talent to draw from on Mars and we are much more concerned with your psychological stability and your group motivation indices, such as loyalty, more than specific skills.”
“And the fellows in the khaki outfits like Gerald who described himself as support staff?” Adam asked.
“That’s exactly what he is. They run the food prep, housekeeping and do the things we don’t want to take time to do. We mingle some, but I suggest you limit your contacts with them in your free time. They don’t know exactly where they are or what we are doing. If you made errors and revealed too much to one of them you could put them in the position of not being allowed to rotate back to Earth. You’ve assumed that burden voluntarily, but it wouldn’t be a kindness to inflict that on them out of carelessness. That’s why we give you a visual clue with the clothing to know exactly who you are dealing with.”
“I understand. I’ll be careful of that,” Adam promised. “It seems to me the technology from an alien ship might be more economically disruptive than any psychological shock. It could wipe out whole industries employing thousands if not millions. Have you harvested any big tech surprises from the ship?”
Hershwin grimaced. “We have gotten a really efficient and compact design for a linear electric motor. The builders used them to open and close the internal hatches. The pilot was probably very skilled. He set the ship down on the surface instead of auguring straight in, but it slid over a kilometer and a half. There is a trail of shredded pieces, large and small, all that way, and then it smashed into a butte while still moving fairly fast.
“Picking up all the pieces along that path is an ongoing exercise, and the crumpled forward compartments are going to be the slowest thing to cut apart, layer by layer, photographing and documenting every removed part, no matter how mundane and insignificant it seems,” Hershwin said. “That remains our slowest operation carried out by an expert team assigned to that task alone.”
“I’m not ashamed to say I’m a little rattled,” Adam admitted. He refrained from asking more questions or repeating the ones Hershwin hadn’t answered.
“You’re taking it better than many,” Hershwin allowed. “Take the rest of the day off. Go familiarize yourself with the cafeteria and what few amenities we have here. There’s an exercise room and a clinic. Find out where everything is and be back at 0800 tomorrow. The door will be set to your hand, and we’ll show you a video history of the dig and what sort of work you can do.”
Hershwin walked him back to the entry and saw him out.
Adam did as suggested. Explored and had lunch. He didn’t want to rush back to his room and jump on the computer. That might arouse suspicions. When he did go back to his rooms he tried to download the latest movie. That got a no such page screen. He tried to connect to MarsNet home and got an administrator looking out of the screen at him.
“You are not authorized for MarsNet connections,” the fellow said, and was not at all friendly about it.
“I’m new here,” Adams said, heart thumping in his chest. “If I can’t connect to MarsNet how do I download the latest movie?”
The fellow softened a little and he eyes tracked something on his own screen. “Oh, new just last night,” he agreed. “Turn on your room com and there will be an ID in the bottom right corner. Set your own password and it will give you local wireless access through your room com. You can’t download direct. Everything you can access from MarsNet is loaded nightly to the local net storage. Clicking your ID will bring up a menu, the movie, Earth news and a few other things are always there.” He seemed uninterested now and disconnected.
Adam did as directed, because if he didn’t it would look bad. But his heart was sinking. He might still get instructions in the movie, but his software reported back by triggering the download of a certain message file any time he requested the movie download, and he no longer could do that. He was cut off and had no idea how he could report.
If he were agent 103 he might have figured out how, but he was picked by the Europeans for the very same qualities the Martians had found attractive, loyalty and stability, not unregulated brilliance.
Adam sighed. This was so frustrating. He found the whole basis for the Martians’ secrecy constructed on a flawed base of assumptions. They were being as panicky as they assumed everybody else would be at their discovery, and he had no way to report the colossal mess. At least the work would be interesting.

Chapter 13
“We didn’t charge enough,” Diana told them. “I should have set the ticket price at $10k AUS, instead of $5k. We are way over subscribed. I didn’t think there was that much extra cash floating around looking to gamble on life extension therapy.”
“You didn’t publish a cap. I’ll get the tickets printed even if I have to pay to build a second machine out of my own pocket,” Eric promised. “I think maybe we should offer physical tickets for the space market only, and go to block chain for digital tickets. Otherwise I can see me getting swamped by rising demand.”
“It has three weeks to run and the curve isn’t flattening out,” Sylvia said. “I’m an old chart reader from way back, and I’m going to say you aren’t going to see a big drop off until the last week. We’re going to earn back Dr. Ames fees and twice as much easily.”
“I’ve got a couple suggestions,” Eric said.
“Have you gotten shy all of a sudden?” Diana asked. “Speak.”
Eric lifted one finger. “Don’t start a new game for a couple weeks.” He lifted a second finger. “Don’t jack the price up, word will get around and people will think you are greedy,” He added a third and final finger. “If the people who win aren’t from someplace where it is illegal, offer them double the cost of their ticket back to take pix of them and follow their treatment for advertising.” He finished with a terminating little flourish of his hand. “The delay to the next game is to give that advertising time to work a little.”
“Maybe we can get Jelly to give us better terms, because this has to suck in some business for him. Clients he wouldn’t get without the lotto. Shucks, what we are doing is advertising for him even without showing off a winner,” Sylvia said.
“Maybe, I hit that angle up pretty hard negotiating with him before we ever started sales,” Diana admitted.
“Wait until he can see some results and go back and renegotiate,” Eric said.
“What did you say about not being greedy?” Lindsey counseled.
“She has a point. We may be getting ahead of ourselves,” Diana said. “Let’s see what a second game does before we start trying to refine it. We may saturate the market and have to find a new prize.”
“If we do, like I said, I’ve got a Solar that says we go four games before it starts to slow down,” Eric said, holding the coin up.
“Honey,” Diana said, “you’re a good kid and all, but I’m not going stupid in my old age. I’m not going to bet a bit with you.”
“That’s just the nicest thing anybody has ever said about me,” Eric said, and looked like he was fighting not to tear up.
* * *
Paul sent a call request at the second level to his boss head of CoPO, Markus. He hardly ever made a video call instead of a text message so Markus took it.
“On that Mars thing… we get a ping back when our agents look at the transmission in which we hide their messages. It’s embedded in the software and we were very careful to make sure nobody on Mars has the level of sophistication to ferret it out. The last several days 71 simply hasn’t called up the items he’s supposed to track to get his messages.”
“Is that the Eye of Enki?” Markus asked.
“No, this is the mundane watcher on the Eye. Agent 103 is still checking. He didn’t know his watcher of course. We simply haven’t tasked the lesser agent with doing anything that should lead to any sort of problem, much less discovery.”
“Things happen,” Markus reminded him. “We’ve had agents fail to report because they did something stupid like step in front of a bus or fall over their own feet going down stairs.”
“I’ll mark him as probably dead, and watch the Mars reports for any indication he had an accident,” Paul agreed.
“And mark him as unreliable without secondary verification if he does reappear. He may have been compromised,” Markus decided. “Would he have done something of his own initiative? If he had opportunity would he aggressively pursue some source like you’d expect an Eye to do?”
“He isn’t the personality type,” Paul said. “He’s above average intelligence, but not so much like 103 that you’d expect him to do something clever given the opportunity. I’d imagine it would have to be something literally falling in his lap, so what are the odds of that happening?”
“You have some assets working under false assumptions,” Markus said. “If you want to risk one of them see what they can find out about him.”
“I’ll let it go a week and try that,” Paul said. “I don’t like mysteries.”
* * *
“We left both the French mills on Ceres,” Delores reported. “The terrain just seemed more suitable to the ability of artificial stupids not to get in trouble. Also we had two very different types of soil on which to try each.”
“The one spot checked pretty rich in silver. About three times as much as anywhere we’ve found on the Moon,” Kurt said. The other site is similar to regolith but more nickel and less iron. That’s just spot checking with a laser. They are both set to range over a wider area than we sampled and record the yield each place they stop.”
“I didn’t ask,” Heather said. “What do they do when they are full up? Just shut down and wait to be serviced?”
“We didn’t try to set them up to save everything like here. They just save the more valuable metals. If they get full, they stop to fuse them in pellets, dump them in a cache that we can recover and then move on,” Jeff said. “We’ll worry about saving everything we can when we have a human presence there.”
“How is the cache marked?” April wondered.
“When it dumps the pellets out, it goes in a circle around them a couple times. All we have to do is follow the track, and when it makes a circle, it will be visible. And I’m working on making the walking bot carrier fold up smaller so you can fit them in the ship hold easier,” Jeff said.
“Why not strap them on the outside instead of carrying them in the hold?” April asked. “It’s not like they’re delicate.”
“Why not?” Jeff agreed. “As long as we can balance them out on the ship, and remove them in sets to stay that way.”
Kurt and Delores looked at each other, and some sort of signal must have passed between them about who would speak. Kurt leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. Alice though quiet as usual seemed to relax too.
“I’m glad we had this shake-down cruise,” Delores said, “and we’re looking forward to making some money soon here at home. In this system I mean. But the ship’s running as sweet as can be, and we’re ready to see another star.”
“Don’t worry,” Jeff said. “We have no intention of holding you up. We’ve been to Centauri twice, but we didn’t know how to navigate with short jumps back then. We didn’t really see much of anything. We sure didn’t get close to any planets. Would you be content with that for a first run?”
“That seems reasonable for our first target,” Delores agreed. “After all, you know the drive has taken you there safely twice. If I owned the ship, I’d want to go back there for a sure thing, first round too.”
Delores being reasonable was a gift. Jeff didn’t spoil it with some snarky remark. April had been teaching him social skills. He was glad not to have to argue because not only did the three of them want to proceed with caution, Dave who built the ship, and had an interest in it, also didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. Jeff could get high handed and just order them, but that wasn’t an effective way to manage smart motivated people.
“You have them making another claim broadcasting radio, don’t you?” Heather asked Jeff.
“Yes. It’s ready and I can run it out if any of the original units fail.”
“Send it with the Hringhorni,” Heather decided. “Commission another for back up purposes. If they do find anything worth claiming at Proxima Centauri they should have a way to mark it.” Heather looked at Deloris and switched voices clearly as she was wont to do.
“We shall make it policy that My pilot in command, whether sworn or hired, shall always have a limited commission to act as my Hand and Voice to make territorial claims. Central commanders shall be given a token of authority which will pass with command.”
Deloris just nodded, freaked out a little. She wasn’t used to seeing the visible transformation and change of voice Heather underwent speaking as Sovereign.
* * *
Paul reported in to Markus. “The fellow who thinks he is working for the Turks asked in the cafeteria what happened to his buddy, Adam, who he used to eat with sometimes. He was told he was transferred. Nobody volunteered any details, and he said it might be worth his life to push for any more.”
“Do you think he was turned?” Markus asked.
“Adam? No, I think if he’d been turned he’d have keep right on accessing our messages. I think it’s probably more complicated than that. He may have gotten assigned to whatever secret resource sucking activity we are trying to discover. If so, they are doing a much better job of isolating the people assigned to it, than covering its existence up as a general thing.”
“That wider secret by its nature has to reach back here to Earth. Local control is much easier. I can see that actually. I think your secondary source is right. If they control it that tightly, he better not show too much interest,” Markus said.
* * *
There was still lots of snow higher up in the mountains. You could see it on a clear day. Down here, there was snow on the north side of the hill across from them, and patches in ravines and behind big rocks, but there were a lot of bare spots too, and the streams were high. The roads were even less passable muddy than snow covered. There was dirt turned over in the garden and black garbage bags laid on the soil weighed down with rocks to help it warm up.
There were trays and egg cartons in the kitchen with plants sprouted, which needed to be moved outside soon. There were a lot of things they wanted to grow they didn’t have seed to plant. A lot of the locals would sell their harvest of heirlooms as seed this fall. Some seed would be brought in from the east, but it would be dear. They had tomatoes and squash, but needed seed corn and onions. This summer they would gather and hunt as much as possible and save their harvest. Canning supplies were precious and they planned to explore abandoned properties and trash dumps for old jars from even store made products.
Jonathan and his son-in-law Barney were struggling to repair a pair of boots with improvised soles, and Jenny and Cindy were sewing a seam on Barney’s pants and trying to re-discover how to darn a sock with yarn unraveled from one too far gone to save.
Eileen had just gone to the outhouse. It was chill enough this early in the morning she still wore her heavy jacket. When the door latch was heard working nobody looked up, expecting her return, until the heavy door was thrown full open with a kick and crashed against the wall. The fellow who stepped in scanned the room with an experienced glance, tracking with both his eyes and a shotgun held low in a ready grip. Everybody froze.
The invader was terribly skinny with pants that would have fallen off if not gathered tight at the waist by a belt. The long tongue of extra belt hanging out of the buckle with extra holes cut every couple inches told a story of slow starvation.
The man behind him was just as skinny, with the same rough uncombed hair and beard. He hung back a bit out of the way, with a big revolver in both hands. He had on a blue work shirt with yellow embroidery above the pocket that said: Dave’s Discount Tires.
“Go get the girl we saw heading for the outhouse and bring her back,” the fellow with the shotgun said, without looking back at his partner.
“Gotcha,” he said with economy.
The tire man approached the outhouse walking quietly. He’d learned to do that pretty quickly after the Day. He was smiling, looking forward to scaring the girl silly. She looked pretty cute from the tree line, from where they had observed the house since before sun rise. She’d be a treat.
He tucked his pistol flat against his belly so he wouldn’t hit it with the door and leaned forward, stretching a little to reach the door handle. When he yanked it open he stood back straight quickly to avoid the door. He never had time to fully register what he was seeing or stop smiling before the muzzle of the big pistol Eileen was holding out flared with fire and the impact of the bullet on his chest made his standing motion carry through and put him flat on his back. He didn’t so much as twitch once down, laying legs splayed straight with the stupid grin still on his face.
“Oh shit, can’t you do anything right, Daryl?” the guy in the kitchen said out loud at the sound of the shot from the outhouse. He was disciplined by hard experience though. He didn’t turn or stop watching his prisoners for an instant. He simply assumed wrongly that it was Daryl who had fired.
Eileen walked across the back porch hard, stomping with her heels a little like a big man who had no reason to tread softly. She didn’t even have to hurry her aim, because the gunman inside never turned his head. She took careful aim from six feet away like he was a paper target, and shot him right between the shoulder blades straight through the spine.
“How did you get the best of him? How did you get his gun?” Her grandfather Jonathan asked in a rattled voice, his face contorted in shock. It was more a statement of his own confusion than a serious question.
“Calmly now, give me the gun,” her father, Barney said, holding his hand out to Eileen and talking to her with a soft soothing voice like she was a little child or a crazy woman.
“I’m just as calm as can be, and this is my gun,” Eileen said in a steady voice. “If you want another gun the dead guy out at the outhouse still has his, go take it. I claim the shotgun this fellow is lying on too,” she said, nodding at the sprawled corpse. She frowned… “You don’t seem to appreciate it at all that I just saved your butts, again.”
“Of course we do, but as long as you’re living in my house I’ll decide who can keep a gun,” her father said. Her grandfather looked up sharply at that. He counted it his house. There would be words about that later too. Her dad took another small step closer to her, pulling his hand back like that made it OK. Everything in his behavior said he intended to grab her weapon away from her.
“You are one step from joining the fellow on the floor,” Eileen informed him. She still had her finger on the trigger, and they knew she had the safety drill about trigger discipline down cold from when she was eleven years old. The muzzle was aimed at the floor between them, and if she had to actually lift it slightly to point the weapon it would be far too late to discuss anything. That was how they’d trained her, that you don’t point unless you’d already decided to shoot. They all looked at her in degrees of horror, realizing she meant it. Only her mother, Cindy looked entirely unsurprised.
Eileen spoke before any of them could recover their wits. “I’ll save you the trouble of sorting it all out. I’ll remove myself from your house, whoever it belongs to. I won’t be your prisoner, your chattel, or play at being an infant when I’m not. Now drag that fellow off his gun and leave it for me to pick up. If he has any extra shells in his pockets I want them too,” she demanded. When her dad was far enough away with the body she squatted, took the shotgun in her left hand and backed up. She didn’t take her eyes off her family any more than the gunman had.
“Where do you think you can go?” her father demanded.
“That’s no longer your concern, is it?” she countered.
Her grandpa searched the dead man’s pockets and got eight more of the twelve gauge shells and a pocket knife.
“I’ll take the knife too since I won’t be taking anything of yours,” she snarled. Her mom gathered the shells and knife up without being asked and put them in a plastic shopping bag. She approached but gave Eileen the courtesy of sitting them on the floor a couple steps short rather than handing them off.
“You’ll be at the spring gathering won’t you?” her mom asked.
“I imagine so,” Eileen agreed.
“I’ll bring a bundle of your things,” her mother promised.
“If they let you,” Eileen said, eyes flickering between the men.
“They damn well will or I can find someplace else to live too,” Cindy said. It turned out the fellows could look even more shocked than they already were.
“Thank you,” Eileen said. “Do I have to tell you not to follow me?” she asked, looking at her father.
He just gave a small shake of his head no.
She opened her hand and gripped the bag without setting the shotgun down and backed out the door. There weren’t any goodbyes. It was a pretty day and she started down the hill to the old road, glad it was early because she had a long way to go.
* * *
“There’s a planet around Proxima Centauri,” Delores reported. “I’ll sell my interest in it for a Solar and a cold beer. Even though we haven’t been anywhere else yet, it’s hard to imagine there isn’t much better real estate to be found.”
“Want to give us a short summary?” Jeff invited. “We can read the blow by blow later if we have trouble falling asleep.”
“Big planet, but not that much over a standard gravity, almost no atmosphere, because the star farts regularly and has blown it all away. Not enough of a magnetic field to protect it or counter the stellar field for that matter. No liquid water and it is tide locked so figure about a kilometer band where it isn’t one temperature extreme or the other. As if that matters with no air. Undoubtedly it has mineral wealth if you look hard enough, but we can probably find easier places to mine. The only real advantage I suspect is that it’s close to Earth.” She paused. “Or that could be its biggest disadvantage,” Delores said.
“Indeed,” Jeff agreed, “location, location, location.”
“You have photos and instrument readings from orbit, and a list of other bodies big enough to find optically in the system by shifting position and checking the star field. The only body that stood out was an icy planetoid somewhat smaller than Ceres. It caught our eye out system because of its high albedo. Since it seemed to be a rich reservoir of water and potentially valuable. I named it ‘Bright’ and deployed the claim marker radio around that body.”
“I should have had them building two radios, but I might as well order a half dozen now. I see we’re going to need them as a regular thing. Did you mark the radar reflector as I suggested?” Jeff asked.
“Well, I had Kurt do it. He applied the sticker and used a vacuum marker to write it freehand just like you asked,” Delores told him. She couldn’t help a smile.
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?” she demanded. “Use some weird thing out of mythology again?”
“Not what most people think of as mythology, something much more recent. I had them clip the radio on a radar corner reflector. If we don’t get back soon and it goes silent we can still find it fairly easily. On one flat surface I had them put a decal of your flag. And on the other side facing it I had them draw a graphic that was well known but by an uncertain artist of the last century. He pulled out his pad and showed it to Heather. “This was from the First Atomic War. Some say a ship inspector started it, but it usually said ‘Kilroy was here.’ Sometimes he had a few hairs, or a different numbers of fingers, but this was the basic form. It seemed to me the old form would just be gloating over being first, so I changed it to a real message. I had them write, ‘Kilroy says keep your hands off,’ instead.”
“I guess I have no sense of humor,” Heather said. “I’d have just put -property of- and my com code, but have fun doing it your way.”
“Just in case anybody wants to argue later, I’m going to register Kilroy Properties as a Singh Tech subsidiary with a Home com code,” April told them. I’m having second thoughts though, perhaps we should wait to make claims so near. It means the Earthies will find them sooner when they do get out there.”
“It’s so low powered they’d have to pass quite close to it to find it,” Jeff said. “The chances of them doing that are quite low until they can actually stay in the system and nose around exploring. That’s a ways off still. I hate to actually hide.”
“That will be amusing, when somebody does make it there, and does a search for Kilroy,” Heather said.
“I’m sure they will, eventually,” Jeff said. “I’m not sure they will admit finding it publicly though. Not for a good long while.”
“They only thing we’d really like, if you could pay for it to be written, is upgraded software for the pulsar location instruments. When we do smaller jumps inside a system it would be valuable to have it compare our intended jump to where we actually came out, and automatically calculate the real mass of objects we are moving around and update the map of the star system real time. If discrepancies suggest there are other unseen bodies deflecting our jumps after we have a few samples, then it would be nice to have the program tell us where to look for them optically.”
“That sounds like it would be worth the investment,” Jeff agreed. “You don’t really need that before you go out again, do you?”
“No, but we’ll bring back better charts once we have it. We’re ready to try something fresh, itching to go really, if you want us to,” Delores said. The other two nodded agreement.
“How does Gliese 667 sound to you?” Jeff asked. Delores and Kurt both looked to their pads. Alice didn’t, Jeff noticed. “Is that on your list?” Jeff directed at her while the others were reading.
“It was in my top three,” Alice admitted. “Close enough one may hope we aren’t stretching the jump distance beyond reach of the technology, and every indication of multiple planets.”
“And if we don’t find anything at one star, can we check out the other two in the group?” Delores asked.
“That’s one of the reasons to pick it,” Jeff agreed.
The crew all looked at each other. If there was some signal that passed between them he couldn’t see it, but they all nodded agreement in unison.
* * *
“Nathan, I heard you missed your lunch companion, Adam,” Head of Security for Mars Base, Liggett asked the warehouse man, Tolly.
“Well we weren’t buddies, but I spoke to him once or twice. He seemed like a nice fellow and somebody said he was transferred. I hope it was a promotion.”
“No, we went through the recordings and we found you never sat at the same table with Adam. Not once, and twice is simply not credible.”
“Maybe we are talking about different people?” Nathan asked. “Adam is the name I remember. We never talked enough that I knew where he worked or anything.”
“Come along,” Liggett said. “We’ll put you under the cap and help you remember,” he offered. With the two big security guys behind him it wasn’t an offer he could really refuse.
* * *
Arnold Woodleigh was Vic’s second neighbor down the road, from about seven kilometers away. Vic wasn’t terribly surprised to have company. He had business with a pretty wide sample of the community. The fellow knew to ring his bell before walking up the hill, and he had a distinctive ring, one, pause, another and then two close together that he used consistently. He didn’t mind the fellow being armed either. They knew each other sufficiently well to have a good basis for trust.
When the two figures were about halfway up the hill Vic realized that it wasn’t Arnold’s girl Pearl with him. His heart skipped a beat and his mind ran through a hundred scenarios to explain why Eileen would be here before they reached his porch.
Arnold had on high rubber boots, muddy almost to the top, and Eileen without such gear was a mess to her knees, and probably cold from being soaked wet. She had Vic’s gift pistol stuck in the front of her pants with her jacket zipped just below it, and the butt of a long gun sticking up over her shoulders on an improvised sling. There would have to be a story attached to that he was sure. He’d seen both guns her family owned and that wasn’t either.
“Mr. Foy,” his neighbor said, with uncharacteristic formality, “this lass was passing our place quite late yesterday and I persuaded her to stay with us because it was almost dark. I assured her we know you and your place well and she’d not reach you in any safety in the dark. I don’t think she’d have accepted our hospitality even then if she hadn’t seen we have a girl her age. Did you know she was going to be traveling to you?” He seemed a bit put out at the idea.
“It was an unlikely contingency plan for her to come here,” Vic assured him. “I gave her a map for how to get from her family’s place to me if she ever needed to. I also gave her that pistol in her belt. But I really wasn’t expecting to see her until the spring get together,” Vic said. “I assume things went very badly wrong if she is here, and I know that gun on her back isn’t one her dad or grandpa owns, so something happened?” he asked, looking at Eileen not Arnold.
“I’m wet, cold, and tired. Could we discuss this inside and preferably close by the stove?” Eileen asked.
“Of course, but you… don’t have any other things?” Vic asked, noting the lack of any other baggage. But he stood back and waved them in.
“We got her cleaned up yesterday and her stuff dried by the stove when we started a couple hours a go,” Arnold said, “but she wouldn’t take any of my girl’s things, not even on loan for a day, if we wouldn’t take payment for it. Damn girl is almost as stubborn as… ”
“You?” Vic butted in.
Arnold stopped for a heartbeat with his mouth still open. “Maybe,” he finally admitted. “I was going to say my Mrs.”
“I’d take charity if I had to – to live,” Eileen said, from where she was hunched over the woodstove. “Here I am, breathing, so I didn’t need it, did I?”
“You just may be right,” Vic had to grant Arnold about her stubbornness.
Arnold just nodded silent agreement.
Eileen just scowled at their byplay.
“What you said pretty much agrees with what she told us,” Arnold allowed. “I’ll let her tell you her story before I say any more.”
“If I go get you some of my long-johns and socks, do you want to take a bucket of hot water in my room over there,” he nodded at the door, “and clean up your muddy legs and feet and then come back out here to warm up?” Vic offered.
“It’s perfect here beside the warm stove. I don’t think Arnold is going to faint away to see somebody his daughter’s age in her underpants, and I intend to show you a hell of a lot more than that soon enough. I can tell you the story while I clean up just fine, and if you want to ogle my legs, good!”
“Plain spoken, ain’t she?” Arnold asked a little taken aback.
“I’ve had experience of that already,” Vic said, getting a bucket and wash cloth, a clean towel and some of his precious better soap. There was hot water on the stove. They all sat on dining room chairs close to the warmth of the stove.
After Eileen was clean and dry Vic tossed the water off the porch, and came back with a pair of long johns and heavy wool boot socks. She had to turn cuffs up on the legs and cinch the waist in, but they were warm.
Vic let Eileen finish the end of her tale without questions. He had some, but determined he would hold them until he could ask them in private, or not at all if that’s the way things went. Instead, he reminded Arnold he said he would speak after Eileen.
“I’m of mixed emotions about this,” Arnold admitted. “My having my own Pearl, of a like age, probably colors my thinking,” he admitted. “I see there’s no sending her back to her family. She plainly said she won’t go and if she did I’m figuring somebody would die, and odds seem to be running with her on that too. I’d hate to have that on my conscience.”
“No worries, you’d be first if you tried,” Eileen told him.
“See what I mean?” Arnold asked. “She wouldn’t sleep at our place unless she was in Pearl’s room with a door to lie against and both her guns with her.”
“In her room, with Pearl, or without?” Vic asked.
“With,” Arnold admitted, and thought on that.
“I see what you mean there,” Arnold allowed. “She doesn’t have a lot o’ reason to trust men, does she?”
Vic didn’t even answer the obvious.
“But she insists she has agreements with you, to wed, not just shack up, so you seem to have a pass with her, somehow.”
“She has my word on that, and agreements to be my sole heir and other promises,” Vic confirmed, “but we didn’t figure to do it and make a public announcement until whenever we have the fall festival, next.”
“Well, we got no law. Far as I know we don’t even got no preacher close. I guess we’re back to writing in the family bible if you got one. We need to mind our business pretty much to get along, and I can’t see this is any of my business. My women heard the same story you just did and they plainly told me it ain’t any of our business,” he said with a wry smile. “If you say you’re wed, now or when we all get together, it’s right by me.
“Of course, if her daddy and grandpa make it their business and come after her you’ll have to deal with that, and I’m not going to get involved with that if it happens any more than this now,” he warned Vic. “I suspect most folks would feel the same. That’s the way people been acting.”
“When I left, I asked my father if I had to tell him not to follow me,” Eileen told Arnold. “I didn’t mean just the next hour or day. If he didn’t take my meaning he does so at his peril. He shook his head no, and I take that as a binding agreement. If you see him headed this way, feel free to remind him. It would be a great kindness to him. I expect to see him at the spring get together. I even have a promise to see my mother there. But if he shows up here he better do so clanging the hell outta that bell down there, and leaving any attitude at home.”
“Well, that satisfies me,” Arnold said, getting up to show he intended to leave. “The girl plainly wants to be here, and not there. Might as well try to tell a cat it belongs to you when it has adopted the neighbor’s family. I might tell your dad what you said if he asks, but if he shows up with, like you say, attitude, it’s not my business to try to persuade him.”
“Fair enough,” Eileen agreed. “Thank you for your hospitality and for escorting me, Mr. Woodleigh.”
“You’re welcome, and bein’ neighbors, I’d say to you, be a little easier to take help if offered, now that we know each other. You’re plain spoken. Hell, blunt as a bump on my nose, so I doubt we’re going to have any misunderstandings.” He turned to leave and looked back to smile at them. “So good day to you, and we’ll see you again sometime soon Mrs. Foy.”
“Thank you, Arnold,” Vic said to his back, headed out the door.
Eileen just looked stunned from being addressed that way.
“So, I suppose I can just forget about ever getting my good socks back?” Vic asked.
“I don’t want to be hard to live with,” Eileen said, and came over and stood between his legs, sliding her arms around his neck to hug him for the first time while he was still seated. “I can get by with your second best pair,” she offered.

Chapter 14
“My agent, who was quite certain he was working for the Turks, has had an accident,” Paul said. He appeared genuinely sad.
“Well they won’t trace him back to us will they?” Markus asked.
“No, they could strip him clean and never get the truth out of him, since he never had it himself, But I do regret his inquiries called any attention to agent 71,” Paul said. “It appears 71 was taken behind a security wall and cut off from communicating with us. It seems at the moment that he is as lost to us as the Turk. However, one never knows but what the channel could open up again if there was a turn of events.”
“And we couldn’t trust his reports after such a separation,” Markus said.
“Yes, but there is a risk they would find out 71 is a EU agent and it’s better they never know we had one in place. They might suspect another.”
“Yet they have no idea why the Turk wondered about 71, since he had no idea himself. For all they know 71 was a target, maybe someone who the Turks thought to recruit. That doesn’t mean they are going to strip mine him if he’s useful to them. You can find reasons to suspect anybody,” Markus said.
“Only if you are paranoid,” Paul said with a smile.
“Oh yeah,” Markus agreed, and did a perfect dead-pan scan each way with crazy eyes.
* * *
Hershwin walked up to Adam’s work station all relaxed and friendly. He shoved a photo under Adam’s nose and asked, “Do you know this fellow?”
Adam looked at him hard, and tried to remember.
“I might have seen him. He looks vaguely familiar, but I’m sure I’ve never talked to him. If you need to know anything important about him I can’t be any help at all. Certainly nothing that would touch on the project,” he added.
“Well crud, thanks anyway,” Hershwin said and walked away.
Hershwin reported to Liggett, hoping he wouldn’t proceed to more drastic methods, because Adam was proving to be a very skilled worker.
“We had him scanned every which way sort of capping him for a full brain scan and he had no warning or way to prep to answer,” Hershwin told Liggett. “You can ruin a man’s usefulness to you with unfounded suspicions and capping him when he’s clean. People resent it. He’s doing good work. He didn’t skip a single heartbeat or flicker a pupil. You just can’t fake innocent that well, not even drugged up and conditioned. He really doesn’t know the guy except the faint doubt you get trying to classify any stranger who looks like a hundred others you’ve seen, and he might have seen this fellow in the corridors or cafeteria.”
“OK. Well, he won’t again,” Liggett promised.
* * *
“Their message was quite clear,” Pierre Broutin told his Prime Minister. “I will note also that Heather let April and Jeff speak for her. The three of them act as a unit and one never contradicted the other. Jeff informed me they don’t have any need of He3. He did however assure me they would meet all their obligations to supply it to us. April flat out rejected your terms of an alliance with them. She quite bluntly said I might have simply asked her and saved a trip because the three of them have a common plan of business and goals they all know.
“They are quite aware of the specific connections between the Brazilian partners and our government, and suspect Weir was not aware. I intimated their new ship might not be purposed as we thought, but they were not tempted to enlighten me on that one way or the other. April utterly rejected any special favors or relationship between us that touched on the L1 doctrine. Jeff Singh was upset at the public accusations against the shipyard Weir used, with which they do have a relationship. Perhaps if I knew more I could have seized the initiative,” Pierre complained, “but on the whole I believe they were operating with better knowledge than me.”
“You feel slighted,” Joel acknowledged, “but I am sure nothing I could have told you would have saved this negotiation. I am dismayed they have the resources to ferret out the Brazilian connection, but I’m not sure I believe them otherwise. This new claim on minor bodies doesn’t seem sufficient reason to have built this ship. Neither do the launch dates and radio transmissions make any sense. Could there be another ship we missed entirely? Yet there doesn’t seem to have been time or materials to account for building two vessels.”
“You’ve been immersed in politics too long,” Pierre told his old friend bluntly. “I’m not sure these children know how to bluff. I suspect they would disdain doing so as basically dishonest for anything short of simple survival. They never tied the ship to their new claims. You jumped to that supposition yourself. They didn’t really volunteer what the purpose of the ship was, just that we were mistaken in some unspecified particular I said about it. In truth they never even admitted having a new ship, even though it has named itself with traffic control and announced who was Master. But it named no destination, so even connecting it to visiting the planetoids is again, supposition.”
“Do you think otherwise?” Joel demanded.
“No, but I’m pointing out even the most basic things we think we know are all theory. We are still missing something basic, and any of the things we think we know could prove wrong once we have that missing key fact,” Pierre said.
“If they are such politically unsophisticated children how did they manage to say nothing?” Joel demanded. “As I understand it, there is no way around needing a significant velocity to use Weir’s drive, and no other to attain those speeds given our current engineering without Helium 3.”
“I agree,” Pierre said, again, “as we understand it.” Joel was unhappy. He was unhappy. On the plus side, at least Joel hadn’t asked what they got in return for their very extravagant gift of cuff links.
* * *
“So, do we declare now, or wait until another supply cycle and flight to get ahead a little on critical supplies?” Project Director Schober asked.
Liggett, his safety director, wondered if it was a genuine question or if Albert had already decided, and was just testing his commitment and loyalty.
“There will never be a perfect time to secede,” Liggett said. That would test solidly positive for truthfulness if Schober was doing computer veracity analysis on him. “Each resupply mission tends to leave a few more people than they take back. We discourage them from sending glorified tourists and researchers who add very little to our real stability and independence. I’m quite certain we can’t fit everybody we don’t want back on just one flight even now.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing,” Schober said, and gave a wry smile.
“I’m not sure I see why,” Liggett admitted. “You may be thinking so far ahead of me that you’ll just have to tell me.” And it never hurt to butter up your boss…
“If we sent everybody back who we want to be rid of, they could just cut us off. If they still have people here they are pretty much committed to another supply mission. That gives our supporters more time to either try to gain control of the Sandman from the Mars Corporation or build a vessel themselves.”
“It seems to me they would welcome a chance to unload such a specialized vessel for which they would have no further use,” Liggett said.
“In a rational world yes, but there are politics involved. They may drag it out hoping to send a squad of soldiers on the next flight and put us against the wall.”
“That… doesn’t sound like a good public relations move for a quasi-public corporation,” Liggett said, but he looked uncomfortable at that vision.
“The space nuts would go crazy. Also Central and Home have set a prohibition against armed ships past L1, so at most we’d have to worry about a squad of riflemen,” Schober said. “We have both shuttles here, so unless they build another lander in a hurry they are going to have to use ours. Spaceships are delicate and I’m already having our fabricating shop create a pair of weapons sufficient to disable it on docking at Phobos.”
“Missiles?” Liggett wondered.
“Nothing so fancy, basically a couple crew serviced big bore shotguns. Don’t worry, you can have security train on them. You’ll test them actually. You aren’t being bypassed or a separate military being formed.”
“Two are just for redundancy then?” Liggett asked. He didn’t express his relief that security would deploy them. That had been his first thought and concern when Albert mentioned they were already being made. He’d immediately worried why he hadn’t been consulted what to build.
“Always, if it wasn’t a very mature technology I’d make three,” Schober said. “So, I think we will tell them not to send any new personnel this trip, and expect a full passenger load going back. Our donors and supporters are ready, best we move while they are enthused, and before any drop out from a long boring wait for action. I’m pretty sure some of them are vicarious revolutionaries.”
“I’m ready,” Liggett said. “I’ll see to it my people are ready too.” Liggett couldn’t see a single thing he’d been asked that would have made any difference, so Schober had made up his mind already.
* * *
Vic and Eileen listened to the evening news summary after supper. They didn’t talk over it and possibly miss something. When it was over they discussed it as usual. Vic found he brought more knowledge of history to the discussion but Eileen was very insightful on the people factors.
“It sounds like North America is getting things under much better control sooner than I expected,” Vic admitted. “They’ve done some very practical things like remove the restrictions on wood burning in rural areas and the crop reports everybody was ignoring anyway. They’re even acknowledging that the migration to the south isn’t temporary, and all those people are going to have to be integrated long term.”
“I don’t understand how the Republic of Texas can demand they grant the autonomous areas independence,” Eileen said. “They can’t even send any significant military into our area, much less pretend they can reach up into Oregon and Washington.”
“They can’t,” Vic agreed, “but they can stop North America from sending their own troops into the west coast.”
“How can they do that?” Eileen asked, scrunching her brow up.
“By making it clear they’ll rue not having them in Alabama and Tennessee if they send them here. Texas might gobble up the rest of Mississippi and east past Mobile, as well as extend Louisiana north to the thirty fifth parallel.”
“Would you want to be a Texan?” Eileen asked.
“I can think of worse things happening for us,” Vic said, “but don’t think it will come to that, not within my lifetime. I think things are going to stabilize for awhile, as long as they continue not to use aircraft against each other and as long as the winters don’t get any worse in the heartland. They are growing short season corn now in Ohio, and not much of anything in Minnesota, some rye and potatoes. There’s only one thing I’m a little nervous about because nobody has mentioned it at all.”
“What’s that?”
“Nevada is near empty,” Vic reminded her, “and Arizona and New Mexico have lost a lot of their urban populations moved to Texas and Colorado, but what are the Mormons up to?”
“Minding their own business?” Eileen guessed. “Shouldn’t somebody?”
“Likely,” Vic agreed, “and they’re very good at minding their business.”
* * *
The partners in the Life Lottery, Sylvia, Diana, and Eric and his sister Lindsey, had winners. They all met at Sylvia’s place to see what they could find out about them on the Earth nets and discuss how to handle them for promotion. The couple who won was Italian and looked to be a great fit for boosting their game, if they wanted to cooperate. They were pretty easy to call and talk to via video conference. They agreed to let the initial call be recorded so that was encouraging. The single fellow sent a short text message where to forward his lift ticket and declined a video call. They all read what posts they could find on him, and were a bit dismayed.
“Go with the couple for PR,” Sylvia said. “I want us to distance ourselves from the single winner as far as possible.”
They knew from public records and news reports their single winner was controversial. It was a big enough worry to ask Muños and Gunny what they should do. Muños spoke privately to Head of Security Jon and Gunny asked Chen to run an inquiry as a personal favor. The man was Argentine but a resident of Monaco. Jon had access to Interpol data bases. Interpol had a rap sheet on the fellow that ran pages long. It started at eighteen because juvenile records were sealed. He was definitely more criminal than simply controversial.
Chen’s inquiries were even more troubling. He was praised by spies and mercenaries for all the wrong reasons. Some of the items on his list of convictions they refused to explain to Eric. If he wanted to go look the terms up later they couldn’t stop him.
“How does a guy get caught this many times and they keep letting him go?” Lindsey asked indignantly.
“Because – Earth,” Sylvia said, bluntly.
“I guess dad brought us up here before I was aware of things like this. School and my friends were my world. We had trouble makers at school, but never anybody like this. I never watched the news programs because they droned on and on and it was boring,” Lindsey admitted.
“The Pravos smiled a lot when you talked to them,” Eric said. “He looks just old enough, that he should make great before and after pix. Did you notice? He has those little lines in the corner of his eyes,” he said, drawing them with his finger on his own face.
“Those are called crow’s feet,” Diana told him. “I had them before my treatment, so he should lose them too. People tend to smile when they have just won a lottery, but I got the impression they are just the smiling sort of people.”
“Yes, they will make great ad copy,” Sylvia agreed. “We should show them a good time. They’ll be good word of mouth and local coverage when they return.”
“What do we do with Mr. Sabato?” Diana asked. “I don’t even want to meet him after reading his profile.”
“Tell Gunny to send one of his partners to handle the man and escort him around. Not Gunny himself, that’s still too close an association to us, but maybe that older fellow Mackay. Nobody is going to pull a fast one on him,” Sylvia said.
“Perfect, I’ll tell them to frame it to the creep like he’s getting special VIP treatment, not arms length isolation,” Diana said.
* * *
“Wow, wow, wow… ” April exclaimed. That was with sufficient emotion for Jeff to look up and for Heather to lift a dramatic eyebrow.
“I have to call my grandpa and see what he makes of this,” April decided.
“Do I have to check my messages or are you going to tell us?” Jeff asked.
“It’s from Chen. He’s so conservative. I’d have labeled this with a much higher urgency,” April said, then chewed on her lip and corrected herself. “But it isn’t going to affect us in the next couple hours,” she admitted, “maybe days.”
“The Martians have declared themselves sovereign, announced they will be expelling about half the people already on Mars, and drastically curtailing who is welcome in the future,” April finally told them.
“Like they were all that welcoming before,” Jeff scoffed. “You know we have plans for a fast Mars shuttle but the fact they don’t want tourists or even most of the researchers and scientists eager to go there means there’s no market for improved transportation. What they have is sufficient.”
“What are they going to eat?” Heather asked. “We’d still miss Earth goods if we were cut off. We wouldn’t starve, but look how hard we worked to get there.”
“Dropping their population to a hundred or a little bit more will ease that,” Jeff said. “They will have excess cubic under pressure they can convert to food production. But they really should have built their base closer to one of the poles for the water.”
“It seems like Mars would be an excellent candidate to put a snowball in orbit and bring some down every time a shuttle dropped,” Heather said.
“Or if they hadn’t just severed themselves from any Earth financial support a Martian bean-stalk would make all kinds of sense,” Jeff said. “It would be much easier than doing it on Earth, give the engineers practical experience toward doing it in stronger gravity, and be much safer too.”
“I wouldn’t assume they won’t have any financial support from Earth,” April said, scowling while she considered it. “They may look insane to us, but none of this says why they seceded. I’m not sure I can believe they are so deranged that they will isolate themselves without any consideration of the practicality of it. I’ll make a prediction. They are just changing who they accept support from, and nobody off Earth would give a flying fig about anything they do, so it will be some other Earth faction who wants to take up supporting them.”
“Mars has always been a money sink,” Jeff reminded her. “What could they offer to anybody to support them? I think we’re talking a couple billion EuroMarks a year just for a minimum support mission every six months. That would be a serious investment even in real money.”
“Well, I suppose they could offer the same thing Heather here has,” April said. “Huge tracts of land for very little money compared to even the worst desert on Earth. The surface gravity is roughly twice that of the Moon. Some people never do adjust to lunar gravity. Presumably fewer would have medical troubles with the Martian gravity.
“If anybody has discovered an ore body worth exploiting they have kept it secret. They don’t even have enough readily collectible volatiles to supply mass for their own shuttles. The big negative is the long flight time from Earth and the attendant supply difficulties. Their cost to place a kilogram of freight on the Martian surface is about five times the cost of the Moon, even believing the Mars Corp’s numbers.”
“If they have no physical product to sell what can they offer in the way of a service? I mean, since they reject the obvious tourism,” Heather said.
“Anything they could offer like banking or gambling or the creepier sorts of low life entertainment could be done cheaper closer to Earth and would be as soon as anybody saw them making any serious money at it,” Jeff said.
They all sat and frowned at the mystery in silence a few minutes.
“April has tried to teach me about people,” Jeff said, awkwardly.
“What about me?” Heather protested.
“You’ve taught me more by example,” Jeff said. “Some of the things I’ve seen you deal with when you hold court… Well, I wouldn’t believe some of them if you presented them as fiction. But the point I was going to make is that for anything to be as inexplicable as what the Martians are doing, I just can’t imagine it is simple business driving it. I think it has to be either religion or politics.”
“You may have something there,” April admitted, “and sometimes they are real tough to tell apart.”
* * *
On the Moon April still had her pad set to get HomeNet broadcast bulletins forwarded. She heard the priority chime, read the message and said, “Nope, not going to get sucked into that today,” out loud. She hard erased the message and set her phone to take alerts off the local net only.
At Home, Sylvia and Lindsey were working on a glass panel together. They had hearing protection, as well as smocks and gloves. Eye protection was both safety glasses and a full face shield. Besides the noise of a vacuum, with hoses sucking right where they touched tool to work, to collect the glass they ground away, they had a padded curtain drawn around the studio work area that muffled sound. It was their habit to leave their phones outside where they were less likely to be damaged, and of course the safety glasses precluded spex. They were unusually isolated for what was considered ‘normal’ now.
Diana pulled back the heavy curtain and yelled loud enough to get their attention. Sylvia pulled a glove off, lifted a muff, and yanked an earplug out.
“Take a break. Something’s come up you need to deal with,” Diana insisted.
Diana was given to drama, but not false alarms. Lindsey was watching to see what Sylvia would do, and started removing everything too, when she saw it was going to be a full work stop. She’d learned the way Sylvia removed her smock turning it inside out with the gloves inside. They’d go in the vacuum tumbler without shedding all over. Her helmet and face shield got rapped on the side of the glass panel to dislodge any pieces.
Despite all that they would both still go shower and change clothing or there would invariably be a tiny grit secreted somewhere that would start itching.
Lindsey went ahead to shower and Sylvia stopped, bandana still tied around her hair to consult with Diana. Rather than say anything, Lindsey might still hear Diana just showed her the General Bulletin message on her pad.
“Oh bullshit, she knows better than that. Have you called Jon?” Sylvia asked.
“I thought you should. It’s your house after all. If I were you I’d talk to Lindsey before you call Jon too. She may have some advice and she should know what’s happening anyway,” Diana insisted. “I’ll let you tell her.”
Sylvia hesitated a moment. “OK, but I’m still going to take a quick shower and make myself presentable. This may drag on and require we meet with Jon.”
Lindsey went in her room right after showering so Sylvia ducked in to use it quickly.
“What’s going on?” Lindsey asked Diana, when she came out.
“I’ll let Sylvia tell you when she’s cleaned up,” Diana said. That didn’t relieve Lindsey at all, she was even more certain something bad was happening. She went in the kitchen and got a big mug with ice water and recovered her phone. There was a message light blinking so she tapped it to read it.
Priority message to all HomeNet users:
We have received a missing person report this morning for 17 year old Lindsey Pennington. Her mother reports her missing for a second day without any communication and suggests she may have been abducted. Attached is a recent photo. If you have seen Ms. Pennington please contact Home Security.
Jon Davis / Head H.S.
“That liar!” Lindsey yelled. For a second Diana thought she was going to throw the pad. Then she relented and looked at her messages again. Diana’s plan to let Sylvia handle it was busted, so she joined Lindsey at the kitchen table and sat down. Lindsey dragged her finger down the screen, frowning at it. She obviously had other messages.
“Talk to Sylvia before you start sending out replies,” Diana suggested.
Lindsey looked shocked at the idea and then thoughtful. “Is this going to cause trouble for Sylvia?” she asked.
“”You’re asking the wrong person,” Diana said. “I’m still trying to figure out how things work here. If it was back home in Hawaii I’d have a pretty good idea, but that’s why I said talk to Sylvia. She’s been here forever and knows people.
“OK, I have messages. Jon tried to call me when we were working. Then my brother tried to call me, and Frank and Cindy right after. I’m going to ask my brother what he knows, but I’ll wait for Sylvia before I reply to anyone else.”
“But nothing from your mom? Diana asked.
“I have her blocked,” Lindsey told her.
“Oh, I’d say she isn’t taking that too well,” Diana guessed.
“Yes, but it took her two day to think up some scheme to get back at me. That doesn’t look good. She should have said I was missing within hours. Or at least called my brother and he’d have told her why I was gone, if not where.”
Lindsey stabbed at the phone to text her brother, like it was to blame, still standing, too full of energy to sit down.
“Oh, my brother had her blocked too,” Lindsey said after some back and forth. “He neglected to tell me that.”
“But she didn’t report him missing?” Diana asked.
“He has to sleep in the full G barracks for kids still. If he didn’t show up they would call her. So that wouldn’t work for him. Besides, he doesn’t have anything she wants to take to sell,” Lindsey said cynically. “He offered to call Jon if I want, but wants me to tell him exactly what to say first before he does. I put him off and said I’d call him again if I need that.
“Your brother isn’t any dummy. Especially for his age,” Diana said.
Lindsey’s phone started blinking again, and she looked at a new message. Sylvia rejoined them, hair still wet, while Lindsey was reading it.
“Jon isn’t any dummy either. He called my mom again after nobody reported seeing me, and asked if I’d taken any clothing or anything that might indicate I had run-away rather than been abducted. She said yes my things are gone, but then went on and on about how my art was gone and how valuable it was. So Jon knew something smelled about it, and called both my dad on the Moon and my brother to ask if they knew what was going on. Both of them shared my message to them that I was moving out because my mom wanted to sell my stuff off to move back to Earth.”
“The nature of Home is there aren’t that many public areas, and there are cameras on all the corridors and public places like the cafeterias,” Sylvia said. “All the businesses run their own cameras. It would be very hard to ‘disappear’ someone. I don’t think we have ever had a kidnapping. Jon had to be suspicious.”
“Then he probably already knows I’m here,” Lindsey decided. “Why isn’t he calling you direct to ask about me? Will he tell me to go back to my mom?”
“It’s not like Earth. We don’t have all their laws to regulate everything. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any clear authority to send you back to your mom. He’s already heard from your dad and brother. At most he may suggest you bring the matter before the Assembly yourself or he will,” Sylvia predicted. “As to knowing you are here, I predict he sees you aren’t in any danger and is letting matters go ahead to see what your mom will do.”
“Giving her enough rope to hang herself?” Diana asked.
“If she made a false report Jon would not be amused at all. I wouldn’t be surprised, if she keeps layering on deceit, he might seek her expulsion.”
“But I’m not a citizen,” Lindsey protested. “I can’t bring a motion before the Assembly. I have no way to become a citizen to ask for my majority.”
“People up here aren’t big on parliamentary procedure and rules that keep them from doing what they want to do. If you ask the Assembly to vote you your majority so you can become a citizen they aren’t going to go into some loop of indecision over which came first, the chicken or the egg, or in this case the citizen or the adult. If it comes to that point, and we do take it before the Assembly, I’m a citizen and can introduce the motion for you.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and appeared to relax just a little. “Thank you.”
“Sit right beside me and we’ll call Jon together,” Sylvia invited. “It looks subtly better than just splitting screens to conference with him.”
“Ah, the mysterious Miss Pennington,” Jon said when they connected.
“Don’t give me that stuff,” Sylvia said, curtly. “You knew where she was and probably what she had for breakfast. I’m sure you reviewed the corridor recordings and know when she arrived here and who brought her. You are game playing, sir.”
“But not with you,” he said quickly. “I’ve been warned you are a chess player among folks struggling to master checkers. Don’t forget, if I saw her arrive at your door, you also may assume I saw her leave home, and that she was alone and not under any coercion.”
“Ahhh… OK. Well, what is your next move?” Sylvia demanded.
“I was waiting a bit to see if you were going to contact me. I know now what is going on thanks to Lindsey’s dad and brother. Her dad was incensed, and her brother other than sharing her message obviously didn’t want to talk to me. Was there any particular reason either of you didn’t want to talk to me?”
“We were working with abrasive stuff in the studio and left our phones on the kitchen table. You can’t hear them over the grinder and vacuum and they tend to get busted doing that sort of work. Not everybody is a slave to their electronic leash twenty four hours a day,” Sylvia told him.
“I’ll admit I haven’t had the luxury of ignoring mine in a couple years.”
“You think you are indispensable?” Sylvia snipped at him.
Jon took a deep breath, considered that carefully, and said, “No.”
“So, we called,” Sylvia said, “she wasn’t abducted, she left. The girl is seventeen, makes enough money to support herself, and doesn’t intend to allow her work to be sold off at her mother’s whim. She sure as hell isn’t going to go back down to the Slum Ball without a fight, and I’m betting that’s something with which the electorate can both empathize and identify with.”
“More to the point,” Jon said, “her other parent doesn’t wish that to happen. In fact, I did tell him where his daughter was, and begged him not to call his wife until he had a chance to calm down. He made an interesting comparison, equating it to the abuses of an earlier era in motion picture films, when some parents managed the child’s career and took all their earnings, leaving them nothing later. It eventually was addressed in law, but too late for some.”
“I never heard about that,” Lindsey said.
“Now that you have the gist of it, look it up,” Jon invited. “But, Sylvia, I do object that you are acting like I am adversarial with you. I haven’t done a single thing to deserve that.”
“Except, you impute to bad faith our not instantly returning your call.”
“A misunderstanding, but you are further off the social convention on this than me, even if you refuse to be held to it.”
“I do, but I’ll let it go,” Sylvia offered. “We have other fish to fry. Everybody seems to be brought up to speed. Aren’t you going to rescind your public alert?”
“Not just yet. It doesn’t hurt Lindsey’s cause to let it simmer a bit. People will remember and wonder why it wasn’t resolved in ten minutes if it becomes a public issue later. People with children will frame it in terms of their own family, and rightly suspect there had to be some kind of dishonesty. If it was a bogus report for selfish reasons, dragged out a long time, they won’t be very forgiving.”
“You’re setting her up,” Sylvia said.
“She’s setting herself up,” Jon said, firmly. “I’m just not going out of my way to interrupt her from doing so, or wasting any effort to make her look better. I will send out an all clear after we talk. But I’m going to call Mrs. Pennington first and tell her that her daughter is perfectly safe and declines to come home.”
“She will demand as law enforcement you come remove me and return me to her control,” Lindsey predicted.
“Enforce what law?” Jon asked. “We have about two dozen hard decisions from the assembly saying things that must be done you could call a law. We have a procedure to gain your majority, but none of the thousands of Earthie laws about how minors and adults are treated differently. Child welfare, home environment, medical care, child labor, and all the definitions of abuse, truancy, and delinquency don’t exist. I’d tell your mother as much. Do you want me to withhold your location? If you think she’ll show up and cause you trouble I will refuse. I do have an interest in keeping the peace and good public order.”
“If Lindsey is physically afraid of her mother keep it secret,” Sylvia said, “but don’t hide us for me. If she comes by and creates a scene we’ll call you, and it will just reinforce who is acting responsibly and who is out of control.”
They both looked at Lindsey to see what she wanted.
“Tell her,” Lindsey decided. “I don’t feel I did anything wrong that I should need to hide. She has always been horrified at all the guns here, so she isn’t going to turn up armed and try to force me back home at gunpoint. I’m just so sorry my dad had to be upset. I just know if they breakup she’s going to blame me.”
“Lindsey, Honey, how long have you been living in dread of your parents getting divorced?” Sylvia asked.
“I remember riding in the back of our old green car back on Earth and they were talking about splitting up in the front seat.” She frowned and thought a minute. “I think that would have meant I was about eight years old.”
“And were they arguing over you?” Sylvia asked.
“No, they were arguing over money. They did that – quite a bit.”
“I’d think on that if I were you,” Sylvia said. “They’re still arguing over money. It just happens to be your money this time. Somehow I bet they’d argue over Eric’s money if she had any idea he has some. Or they can just keep arguing over your dad’s money. I doubt that will ever end.”
“I see what you mean. Eric was smarter than me,” Lindsey admitted.
“That was instructive for me about the real problem. I’ll tell her where you are, if she asks,” Jon decided. “If she demands it I may not.”
“Maybe she’ll just ask where the girl’s stuff is to seize,” Sylvia said cynically.
“That… would not set well with me,” Jon admitted.
“I’m going to tell Eric about this, but Jon seems to have told my dad as much as he needs to know,” Lindsey said, keying on her phone already.
“Fine, I’m going to go start supper. Tell Eric there’s enough for him if he wants to come talk face to face,” Sylvia offered.

Chapter 15
“I have no idea what the Martians are obsessed about,” Happy admitted. “They were willing to kill me. I never had any clear idea why, and I have no doubt the way they acted that they may have already murdered somebody else if you look into it closely enough. I know not all of them are in on it, so the fact they are expelling people doesn’t surprise me. People will kill for all sorts of reasons that may seem irrational to you or me. Sometimes for no more reason than they didn’t like how you looked at them.”
“I’m glad we got you out of there,” April said.
“Yep, you saved my bacon,” Happy agreed. “You seem to have a thing about rescues. Don’t do something stupid with those people. It’s none of your concern to take any risks if that situation gets ugly.”
“I’m just watching with interest,” April assured him, “now that you’re safe.”
* * *
“Mrs. Pennington, after reviewing the video records of the corridor traffic and consulting with your husband and son, I find your daughter was not abducted. I believe you were entirely aware of this from the start, due to her personal possessions being absent,” Jon said. “Since everyone else is in agreement that it is a family dispute, and your husband is fine with her new living arrangements, I’m taking no further action with regard to her or you. After we speak I’ll be withdrawing the public alert to watch for her.”
“I’m not at all in agreement with my husband that she is mature enough to live on her own. She’s still a legal minor and I want her back home.”
“She’s still a legal minor under North American law. I’m sorry to have to remind you, that has no force here. I’d suggest you bring the issue before the Assembly, but I see you have never sought Home citizenship, so you don’t have that option. Frankly, even if you did bring it, I expect there is such a large body of voting citizens who respect Lindsey, and have done business with her, that their response would be to grant her emancipation so she could seek citizenship.”
“I can be a citizen tomorrow if I want,” Linda Pennington snipped.
“Indeed, before the day is done,” Jon agreed, and just looked at her. There was an awkward silence since the ball was back in her court.
“I mean, I could do so to bring a matter before the Assembly,” she clarified. “There isn’t any avenue for Lindsey to do so. I’m not sure she could even petition for her own emancipation.” She looked smug, as if that proved something.
“Well, there is precedent. The first minor to request her majority did so without a sponsor until after the motion. She could have a friend bring the matter before them. She does have friends,” Jon felt it necessary to tell her in case she had no clue. “I think you’d find that the Assembly tends to streamline matters rather than get bogged down in procedures, certainly not to the detriment of doing what they want to do. If someone started quoting Robert’s Rules at them I doubt the Assembly would take it well. If this matter is put up for discussion I doubt you’d get a favorable outcome once your motives in wanting control of her are clear. The fact you’d use her earnings to force her to leave Home, against her wishes, would be seen as a slap in the face by many Homies.
“I’d hate to see you alienate yourself from many of the people with whom you live and need to do business. People might not care to employ you if you utterly ruin your reputation. You might then not have any option but to return to Earth, but without the funds you were planning on demanding from your daughter. My understanding is they still make the negative tax available in North America, so you wouldn’t be without any means of support.”
“Are you threatening to blackball me?” Linda demanded.
“Not at all. I wouldn’t need to say anything. I’m trying to give you some insight into how people here already think. It’s obvious you haven’t absorbed any of that, even though your family felt you were acclimating. I’m trying very kindly to keep you from making a public spectacle of yourself. The expression that has becoming common here, is to describe this inability to discard Earth customs and laws that don’t work on Home is Earth Think. I suggest you talk to your husband about it before making public statements that can never be retracted.
“If I were actually hostile to you I could easily, and truthfully, say your report of an abduction was a false report when I withdraw the alert. I’m going to avoid that out of concern and respect for your family. Don’t throw that gift away,” Jon said, and disconnected the call before she could say something else stupid. He sighed and shook his head even though there was nobody with him to witness it.
At Sylvia’s everybody’s pads and the house com buzzed.
Priority message to all HomeNet users:
The alert over the Pennington teen has been resolved and all parties found safe with no malicious intent. We no longer seek reports on her location or condition. Thank you to everyone keeping a watch.
Jon Davis / Head H.S.
“Well, that must not have gone too badly or Jon wouldn’t have been so bland and kind in his stand down message,” Sylvia said.
The pad in her hands sounded a different tone for a private message.
“I tried to talk some sense to her. No idea if it took. She never asked where Lindsey was, but then I terminated the call sort of abruptly.” – Jon
“Tell him thank you for me,” Lindsey said. Sylvia keyed it in.
“Well that takes the pressure off,” Sylvia said. “Nobody is looking for you. I have no trouble with it if you want to stay here for awhile. I’m enjoying your company and our collaboration. From the prices I saw your stuff bringing you should be able to get a place of your own before I get sick of seeing your face.”
“Thanks, I’m much better now. I feel safe. I just still worry about my folks.”
“Honey, I’ll keep telling you this. It’s their job to worry about you, not the other way around. That’s just the natural order of things. They’re the adults and they have to see to their own lives. It’s not your responsibility.”
“You have my permission to keep telling me that,” Lindsey said.
* * *
“So, the Martians are going to retain some hostages to guarantee their re-supply?” Markus asked with a sour expression. “And our esteemed leaders intend to allow that without any repercussions?”
“The Mars Project has a certain popular appeal in the public awareness,” Paul said. “They aren’t perceived the same as the rich spacers on the Moon and habitats. They don’t produce any expensive products to incite jealousy. They don’t flaunt public morals. They have a mantle of academic purity to some extent.
“The project was a matter of some pride for the Union when the Americans backed away from a Mars colony, and some of that still carries over. To show a heavy hand in dealing with them would be very bad public relations. There are space nuts even in our own government. How do you imagine they have retained significant funding during difficult times?”
“I didn’t think they’d put a handful of top administrators against the wall and shoot them,” Markus said, “although if they were a military outpost that wouldn’t shock anyone would it?”
“People don’t get elected for being subtle and deep thinkers,” Paul said. “It’s only for one supply cycle they will have people there who the public would see as stranded innocents. I assume they have been preparing to live independently for some time. Still, they are going to need some support from Earth. They can’t make so many things like their own electronics and medicines. They would be in dire straits in a couple years at most when things start to fail without replacements. Unless they have some other government outside the European Union lined up to supply them I don’t see how they will survive.”
Markus smiled, which was unsettling to see. “Then by all means let’s stress them to hasten this failure or reveal who would ally with them. We can be subtle about it. No need to do anything nasty and lethal, just inconvenient. In fact, let’s not burden our politicians with the guilt of doing so. They might have remorse and reveal things to the press from an over active conscience. You can manage an operation and not leave anything pointing back to us can’t you?”
“Probably,” Paul hedged, worried. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’ll need physical access to their re-supply. Food, drugs, even mechanical goods would do just fine,” Markus said.
“A lot of those things are sealed up just for normal consumer safety. It would be difficult to substitute our own items,” Paul warned.
“No need, just opportunity to apply an aerosol to things that will be handled.”
“Ahhh… yes, than can certainly be arranged,” Paul said confidently.
* * *
Sergio Sabato arrived on the morning shuttle from ISSII with very little luggage. He had a single bag that Christian Mackay recognized as a compression style bag with a tiny air pump on board that expelled all the air, making it more compact. That indicated he probably did a lot of air travel on Earth. It was handy to be able to compact your luggage to keep control of it as carry on. Of course, it didn’t do a thing to reduce mass which was what mattered more lifting to orbit.
Mackay was waiting for him at the security station. The way he handled himself in zero G said two things about him, he was new to it, and the the careful thoughtful way he used the lines and stanchions provided for people like him said he was intelligent and a quick learner.
The way he treated the Security officer immediately tagged him as a jackass who either wasn’t aware or didn’t care what sort of impression he made with Mackay, much less the officer. He immediately looked hostile when asked to touch the ceramic pad and state his identity.
“I thought Home was a bastion of liberty and you didn’t have all these intrusive government controls,” he told Margaret, waving at the plate.
“We like to keep a count of bodies aboard. Sometimes they turn up dead and it’s nice to have something to write on the toe tag. You will be asked to touch a screen leaving too. Tell us how you wish us to address the person we match to your genetic code so we don’t have to say, ‘Hey you.’ And we’ll be satisfied. Who you legally are by Earth records, and your business here, we won’t intrude upon,” Margaret promised him pleasantly.
“I’m Donald Duck,” Sergio said, touching the pad.
“Have a good visit, Mr. Duck,” Margaret said, and turned her attention to the next fellow. Sergio hesitated for a heartbeat, unbelieving she wasn’t going to give him a hard time back and argue with him.
Mackay was waiting and said,” I’m Christian Mackay, hired to be your guide and security by the Life Lotto. How would you like me to address you?” If he wanted to be called Mr. Duck for the next week Mackay didn’t really care.
“Sergio is fine,” Sabato said. “I’m not big on formality, and mister is just an extra word to say.” He didn’t offer to shake which was fine with Mackay.
“Why don’t you let me carry your bag?” Mackay offered. “I’m more experienced in zero G. If you can aim to jump for the hand rail there through the bearing opening, I’ll show you how to get to the elevators on the other side. It’s better to error a little bit to the wall side than fly through the opening and need to come back down off the overhead. The elevators will take us down to the level where your hotel is, and you’ll have the same perceived weight there you do at home.”
Sergio looked Mackay over with a growing grin. “Damn, dis da shitz to have armed security assigned. Are those for show, or do you really know how to use ‘em?” he asked nodding at the brace of pistols Mackay wore at his waist, grips forward.
“I’m quite qualified with them,” Mackay assured him. “Something that might not be immediately apparent to you, being new here, is that a great deal of the population has had the same sort of life extension therapy you came to acquire. I may appear about thirty to you, but I’m actually fifty six, and have years of experience as a security professional both as a partner in our own firm, as station security on ISSII, and in several police departments on Earth before coming up. I can usually resolve problems without needing to use a lethal weapon.”
“OK, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Sergio admitted. “I’d have pegged you as twenty eight maybe. How do I know if I want to send a drink over to a babe in a bar if I can’t tell whether she’s twenty or sixty?”
“Why would it matter?” Mackay asked. “Surely the sixty year old has the benefit of experience over the youngster. The truth is, after you observe them for awhile, you start picking up slight differences in those who are young and those who look young again. But you’ll see differences in attitude first. You might expect the sixty year old to send a drink over to you.”
Sergio’s eyebrows went up, and he laughed. “I guess that works too,” he allowed. He jumped close enough to grab the rail on the first try.
* * *
Sylvia smiled at the text and reported it to Diana. “Mackay says he didn’t bid enough and does it release him from his contract if he shoots our winner dead?”
“If he’s going to do that, tell him to do it before Doc Ames wastes a treatment on him. Would it be unethical to offer him a split on the recovered cash?”
“Don’t tempt the man. I doubt it would be good for his business or ours. We’d never be able to keep that out of the news,” Sylvia said. “One hopes the Pravos are easier to deal with. I’m sending Eric to escort them. April was very satisfied with how he handled the French guy. But we’ll take them to the Quiet Retreat the first night. They should arrive tomorrow. We’ll have to do that ourselves of course, Eric couldn’t. Once they start treatment they won’t feel like going to a club or anything else.”
“I remember,” Diana said. “The accelerated treatment plan was draining.”
* * *
Most of the food items to be shipped to Mars were bulk in low mass packaging. A few were in commercial packaging, and a few things such as small individually bagged snacks were secured in larger thin plastic bags and added as low mass volume fillers after the main freight of pallets and boxes were secured. The shipping clerk followed quarantine protocols, and fumed the entire hold with a non-persistent agent to prevent the transmission of pests such as fruit flies, weevils, or cockroaches to Mars.
An agent for the Committee on Public Order had replaced the aerosol can with their own formulation. The CoPO agent chatted with the clerk after the switch, mentioning he’d been gifted with a bottle of expensive scotch by his brother-in-law, and the stuff tasted vile to him. It just happened to be the clerk’s favorite, so he was happy to re-gift it to somebody who would appreciate it. The story had the advantage of not even needing to replace the broken seal.
Another agency might have poisoned the scotch to create a dead-end should the matter be traced back as far as the clerk. The CoPO was running this as a clean operation, and was benevolent enough to put the counter agent to the altered bug spray in his booze. The fact he didn’t get sick would be almost as effective as a termination in stopping any investigation targeting him.
* * *
“Do what you feel you have to do,” Mo invited his wife. “I don’t have the time or energy to ask time off and make a special trip back to talk to you face to face. You’ve never really committed to Home. You’ve never wanted to apply for citizenship, and you know the tax rate is so low there’s no real excuse. You won’t even come visit me here, and you knew when we came up this was where I’d end up working. I’m not going to tell Lindsey to move back in with you.
“I don’t understand what you think would happen if you did force Lindsey to return to North America. She’d be an adult in a year, a full adult in three years, and special rights in another three. Even if you could convince a court to withhold her rights to contract and hold property it would be temporary. You aren’t going to convince anybody she’s of diminished capacity or anything. She’s too bright and articulate. Do you think she would support you indefinitely after you dragged her back there? She’d end up buying passage back to Home at terrific expense in a couple years and all the angrier you made her do that.”
“Do you really think she is mature enough to live on her own at seventeen?” Linda asked, “There are reasons people picked the ages of majority.”
“Yes, and not all those reasons were to serve the young person. Lots of them have to do with controlling labor and serving the purposes of agencies and factions like education. I’d much rather see her living on her own on Home than trying to be safe and make her own way in Chicago. But she isn’t living on her own. You didn’t ask, but she’s with two middle aged ladies who are providing a safe place to live and letting her pursue her art both for herself and as a business.”
“I just assumed she was with that little… with Jeff’s so called business partner, April. She’s been an influence on Lindsey since practically day one.”
“I’m much more worried about you than I’ll ever be about Lindsey. You’ll end up living on negative tax. The whole point of coming up here was to avoid that. I understand housing is so tight they don’t give single negative tax recipients private apartments any more. You’ll end up in a project like a college dorm with shared showers and a cafeteria. You’ll hate it,” Mo concluded.
“We’d have the family allowance for housing and everything else,” Linda said.
“You think they’d grant you space for an absent husband who is a despised citizen of Home, and let you keep an apartment after Lindsey left?” Mo asked. “You really are delusional.”
“You said single. Are we back to considering divorce then?” Linda asked.
“All you have to do to divorce me on Home is make a public announcement. You can send an all addresses text on HomeNet or publish on the public boards. You know North America doesn’t give a hoot for Home laws or customs, so you’d have to go through the full legal procedure on Earth if that’s what you want. I still have feelings for you, no matter how foolish you’ve decided to act, but I’m not seeing it reciprocated. Do what your heart tells you there too.
“Just be aware I won’t beg Singh to give my ex-wife a free apartment if you do so. I know you somehow think he is evil for not kissing your little butt, however he supplied where you live as a perk of my employment. Stop and really ask yourself what he gets out of the arrangement if I’m removed from the equation. I seriously doubt you could rent a full family sized apartment on your current job. So you’d end up in hot slots not even as nice as a negative tax dorm down below.”
“Are you still coming back to Home for your next leave?” Linda asked.
Mo looked out of the screen at her and something shifted on his face.
“Do you know what? No. Next leave I have, you can join me here at Central or not, as you wish. I have no need to run back to Home. If you want to visit I’ll have time to show you around, and I have room for you. I have more room here just for myself than what we have on Home.”
“I’ll let you know,” Linda said, wary a flat refusal now would precipitate a complete breach with him. She wasn’t ready to do that.
“You do that,” Mo agreed with surprising cordiality. But neither did he end with any terms of endearment before he disconnected.

Chapter 16
The Three welcomed their star travelers back. It was enough of a special occasion to take their report face to face but it was too late in the day. They invited them to sleep and share a buffet brunch the next day.
When they arrived at Heather’s private quarters Kurt was in a soft cast around his ankle and using a cane even in lunar gravity.
“What did you do?” Heather asked.
Kurt blushed. “I got up early to play handball with a friend. I simply tried to make a return I should have let go, kissed the wall much harder than I expected, and recovered very badly. It ripped some tendons that are going to take some time to heal. I’m afraid I’m out of it for a couple weeks if not a month. There’s an electric stimulator on it inside the cast. If the next survey is as easy as this one, a single jump to a local star, the rest of the crew really could do it without me.”
“We can talk about that,” Heather said, noncommittally. “Why don’t you make your presentation before we get into further planning?” That was directed at Delores.
“There were some interesting bodies in the Gliese systems,” Delores allowed, “but we were limited by being unable to land on any high gravity bodies. Gliese 667 Cc is a weird depressing place if you did land. It’s in perpetual dusk. There’s water but from high orbit no signs of life. I don’t know what sort of plant could get enough energy from the infrared sunlight to support life.
“There were a couple smaller bodies like Ceres we could have marked with claims, but really – how many of them can we exploit? They seem common enough none of us could see bothering to mark them this close to Earth unless we found one just lousy with copper or diamonds or something that could be scooped up easily, not just extracted with a French mill. If we keep claiming them we might end up having to run around keeping the generators fueled up or just write off the investment in the radios.”
That made April grimace. She hated to waste anything.
“What she’s trying to say, but is too polite and subordinate, is there isn’t really any benefit to fiddle-farting around visiting close stars when the whole idea was to go grab real estate far enough away the Earthies won’t be knocking on our door next week,” Kurt said. “That is, unless you are just compiling a catalog to selflessly give a treasure trove of astronomical data to the Earthie scientists for the advancement of humanity.”
Heather looked amused at that but stayed silent.
“Humanity would probably reject it as being impossible to peer review.” Alice warned. “I think my mother used to frequently quote something appropriate about casting pearls before swine.”
Barak wasn’t very talkative, but nodded agreement with Alice.
“I’m really conflicted,” Jeff admitted. “I didn’t see this coming when we were planning. I know that going far away is necessary to the basic plan, but it’s hard to take the leap to make a really big jump. If we cautiously keep jumping a little further each time we’d have some idea what our limits are if you don’t come back. If we go long all at once we’ll have no idea if it was too much distance or if you ran into a rock or met unfriendly natives or what happened.”
“If we had two ships it would be a lot safer,” Delores suggested. “If we have mechanical problems we could come back on the one running OK. We could jump in far enough apart the follower could see if the other had problems like finding hostiles and jump back out. You could even go in stages. If you found radio emissions or something to make you worry about the next star, you could have one ship wait in the last system visited, and wait for the other ship to jump in and then back out to report.”
“We just really can’t afford a sister ship right now,” Jeff said.
“How about a sort of lifeboat?” Kurt asked. “Something we could grapple on, about the size of the old Happy Lewis, but without even the freight module. It’d be jump capable of course, but without all the instrumentation, high powered radar, and fine tuning for the in system navigation. With just enough cabin volume to jam everybody in and make our way back home eating ration bars and ignoring the fact we have no shower.”
“I like it. I know there are at least three construction scooters sitting surplus nobody wants to buy. Dave could convert one for fairly minimal cost. We wouldn’t need all the systems of the main ship.”
“If I may, I’d like to suggest a name for the lifeboat, if Kurt doesn’t mind,” Alice said. She looked at Kurt and then around and there was no objection.
“I think it would be perfect to name it Remora,” Alice proposed.
“Indeed, that’s perfect,” Kurt agreed.
“We could still do another close survey while we are waiting for our… Remora, and for Kurt to heal,” Delores said. “Better to keep our hand in than sit idle, and who knows, we might find a big asteroid of solid silver or something.”
“Yes, I’m sure you could, but I’d like to come along and sit the vacant fourth seat,” April said. “I have experience and can be an asset. And I don’t expect voyage shares. As far as I am concerned Kurt is just on temporary sick leave and can collect full pay.”
“I’m concerned, having an owner sitting a crew seat, if I am going to retain a clear command,” Delores said. “When we did simulations Jeff tended to break discipline and drop out of the sim.”
April looked at Jeff, and waited.
“It’s true. I got involved in a big discussion with Barak and totally dropped out. It was a very important insight however. When I get into something like that it’s like a trance. If I just shoved it aside to consider later I’m not sure I could ever pick the thread of the thought back up.”
“Then, as much as I love you, I’m not sure you should sit a command seat,” April said. “Not unless maybe you run a bridge like a military vessel with no chit-chat allowed that could distract you. Delores has to wonder now if you’d do the same thing when it isn’t a sim. It’s her job to consider if that would be a danger. That could kill everybody.”
“I feel I can break my concentration at need,” Jeff objected. “When I was deep into it with James Weir all you had to do was look over his shoulder at me and shake your head no. But my ego isn’t so big I’d insist on sitting an active board while Delores is in command, if she decides she doesn’t want it.”
Delores nodded an acknowledgement of that, but didn’t say what she’d decide one way or another. Jeff hadn’t demanded that, so April thought taking some time to think on it was smart.
“I’ve sat in your seat, in command, so I’m not going to try to assert command suddenly. I may assert myself over you for business decisions, but those seldom require split second timing.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Delores demanded.
“You can set my board to weapons,” April volunteered. “If you did need a gunner none of the other three seats are really totally free of duties to take it over. And if you ever do need it I have actual experience.”
“I’ll be honest with you. I think it is a silly waste of mass to arm us, and three kinds of missiles is just overkill. If there was anything in a couple hundred light years to worry about that way we’d have heard them,” Delores insisted. “And if you did have a hostile I’d still need to release your weapons and give you leave to maneuver to effectively fight such a small vessel.”
“Yes ma’am, and if that ever happens, don’t wait until we are all dead to release me to do my job,” April warned. “Time is of the essence in those circumstances. Last time I fought a ship action we had four kinds of weapons and used all of them to prevail.
“You have three variations of only one system, missiles, and only seven missiles total. Four of those are small, short range, and pretty much useful for defense only. I hope I never need any but that seems like a scant load. But mostly I’m not expecting them or me to be needed. I just want to come along and see a different star. Call it owner’s privilege, not hard necessity.”
When Jeff looked like he was going to object, April added, “While you are still going to do a close local jump we know is pretty safe.”
Jeff closed his mouth back shut, and even managed to smile, but it was a forced brittle smile and didn’t fool anyone.
“Do you have a target system in mind?” Delores wanted to know.
“How do you feel about 61 Virginis?” April asked her. Asked all four of them really since they were listening, even Kurt who wasn’t coming, but Delores had command and April intended to carefully defer to her.
“That’s a little further,” Delores allowed. She said it so neutrally you wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a positive or negative without knowing her. April was sure she was ready to try a thousand light-year jump at the drop of a hat. April wasn’t ready to try that until they had worked up to it bit by bit or had some robotic probes do it and come back safe, for sure not with her onboard.
* * *
The Pravos were beyond easy to escort. They smiled all the time to the point Eric wondered at first if it was faked. He thought he was of fairly positive outlook, and pleasant demeanor, but they seemed delighted by everything. But the chatter they kept up found specific reasons for their enthusiasm at every turn that showed it was more than a superficial veneer.
After a few hours of it, he was wondering if he needed to be more positive, instead of cautious and skeptical. Nobody had ever suggested that to him. They noted things with approval he took for granted. The Pravos didn’t fault him. They just made him feel that way by their example.
He took them to the cafeteria to get their cards and eat lunch, and they engaged Wanda in a big discussion about Italian food. Pretty soon Ruby was drawn out of her office too, and the next thing he knew they were back in the kitchen with flour on Mrs. Pravos’ hands, waving a big knife around and talking about how to cut and dry noodles. When they ran down on noodles they found they could talk opera with Ruby.
Then they went to the Home Chandlery to pick up their spex, where they read Zack’s specials and sales board, and immediately got into a huge discussion about cheese varieties with Zack. That somehow morphed into Zack telling them how he came to Home after a pretty extensive replay of how and where he grew up on Earth. Eric hadn’t heard most of that. Their enthusiasm seemed contagious.
When he took them to their room at the Holiday Inn the manager escorted them to their room along with Eric like they were VIPs. It was amazing, for all of how easy they were to guide, he was exhausted by the time he promised to come back and guide them to dinner at the club. He was the youngster and they were middle aged, but the hectic morning seemed to have just energized them. He was left wondering if they were like this now, what they were going to be like after a full round of life extension therapies gave them new stamina?
* * *
Mackay meanwhile was sitting waiting for his charge to finish treatment at the Infirmary. Sabato decided to leave his hotel the night before unescorted and seek his own entertainment. He was directed by some helpful souls to an area near the Beam Dogs barracks, and inquired of the construction workers there where to find an escort more to his taste than Mackay.
The combination of him failing to tell them all he had to pay with was depreciating EuroMarks, and the fact he believed all the Earthie news reports about spacer depravity, was a very bad mix. He really only had superficial contusions and a spectacular black eye. Mackay had to pay the people incensed at Sabato Solars, out of his own pocket, to keep matters from escalating to worse.
The Beam Dog patrons of the same unofficial establishment were close to giving him an exterior tour of the station sans pressure suit before Sabato invoked Mackay’s name and somebody knew him. He was of mixed feelings about persuading them otherwise. He just hoped the man’s injuries wouldn’t prevent Dr. Ames from starting his treatment later today. The sooner he was done and gone the better for everyone. Mackay suspected life extension would be wasted on this creep, because it didn’t make you bulletproof. He couldn’t imagine the man ever dying of old age peacefully in his sleep.
* * *
Eileen was determined not to allow her problems with her family to spoil the spring festival for them. She was however practical and insisted Vic stay close by, to keep an eye on her, but not neglect safeguarding himself from her relatives.
To that end they arranged to travel to and from the event with the Woodleigh family, and hired a young fellow from another nearby family to arrive separately and not associate with them there, but paid him be an extra set of eyes for them and observe from a distance. If he saw a threat materializing he’d alert them.
The neighbor’s daughter, Pearl, sold Eileen a few items of clothing as she was a bit bigger and growing still like Eileen. She was still short of having enough for every-day wear, so that was a priority to acquire. Eileen’s mom said she was bringing her things, but they weren’t counting on it. Eileen suspected her family might miss the event if her father had his way. They had trade goods to sell though, and needed things, so he might not be able to bully the rest of them into staying home and letting him come alone.
They planned to start at dawn and arrive early enough in the afternoon to have a little daylight to trade. The trek to the pole barn and impromptu fairgrounds was shorter than her hike to Vic’s house. They were the opposite direction than her folks from the festival, which seemed all to the good to Eileen.
She embarrassed herself by asking if Vic would hire horses. He’d explained he only hired a horse for long range survey work and had avoided the roads where a horse made you a target. Also, the people who owned horses likely would use them, not rent them out as pack animals or rides to the festival.
Vic was able to carry most of their trade goods, and a fanny pack that he assured her had everything they needed to make a camp. He had Eileen carry a few light things and some food. They had a dish to share for a pot luck table if that was arranged like some had suggested last fall. He had a modern carbine with a plastic stock and a little bump of an optic on it that wasn’t the usual big telescopic sight Eileen was used to. It hung at his left shoulder muzzle down walking and if he reached across he could take the pistol grip and swing it up to his right shoulder.
“Why did you pick this rifle instead of others in the safe?” Eileen asked.
“It’s my lightest, and the ammo is light too. I can carry a magazine in each pocket of my cargo pants without weighing me down,” Vic said. He showed her how to work the safety and insert a magazine, but apologized that he didn’t want to let her try shooting it just yet. It wasn’t like she’d never shot anything.
They didn’t chatter a lot or loudly on the road. Mrs Woodleigh wasn’t a big talker anyway. They maintained a pace that didn’t invite much talking, and they were still concerned enough about bandits to keep a silent watch. The day was pleasant and it held without rain so that when they were about a kilometer away from the festival the wind shifted a little and they smelled smoke. That was probably from people cooking lunch.
The pole building was on a rise, so when it came into sight they could see smoke rising from several sources in thin lines, and people were set up around the building to sell. A few had tents and would probably stay overnight if it was a long walk back home and they intended to stay late. Some would stay in the pole building despite a lack of privacy. Some would retreat further back down the road to have more privacy even if it was less secure, but many of them had dogs and enough people to keep a watch.
Rather than speed up, they slowed down now that they had it in sight. It was safer now, being in sight of others, and they could see they were early enough there were still traders with people milling around them. There was no reason to arrive out of breath.
The owner had marked off a wide lane with stones to the door at both ends of the building that was to be kept clear, and a three meter clear space around the outside of the building. He also built a separate double outhouse nearby so people didn’t need to go up to his house to use his.
“How does Mr. Mast get paid for all these people trampling his lawn and using his pole barn?” Eileen wondered.
“I suspect he’s taking the long view,” Vic said. “He isn’t trying to extract everything he can from those who don’t have much. If you want to set up a booth and leave it up between times he’ll work out a fee with you. If you want to store a pavilion or goods in the barn between times he’ll charge a little something for that too. He has an advantage going forward as long as he doesn’t chase people away. There are too many open fields where everybody could move to if he got greedy. The big payoff will come later, as people do better, and can pay more in a year or two. I imagine he’ll set up to take goods and hold them for pick-up.”
“That would have risks,” Eileen realized.
“That’s why I was speculating, and doubt he’d ever advertise that. He’d keep it private. I would,” Vic assured her.
“I mean, would you leave goods with him and be sure he could keep them secure?” Eileen said in much more detail.
“You see how his house is on a rise and he can look over the pole barn to see the approaches?” Vic asked.
Eileen nodded.
“You don’t want to come in here and try banditry with Mr. Mast,” Vic assured her. “Not unless you have a military force with heavy weapons.”
It was kind of an odd situation in which they found themselves for their own security. Vic had a respectable pile of gold flakes and small nuggets. He’d shown Eileen where he hid his caches. That should trade for anything they wanted, because people could trade it on to others. It was easily as fungible as ammunition or canned goods. However, they both agreed it was too dangerous to become known for having gold until they had access to the outside world and a degree of anonymity again. They found other safer things to trade that wouldn’t raise eyebrows or cause talk that could lead to banditry.
An old outbuilding on Vic’s property, too far gone to repair, provided some safe trade goods. He’d removed the few panes of glass still intact and a few door catches and other hardware. Then he pulled it the rest of the way down and burned it when there was still snow on the ground and no fire hazard. He had a couple bags of nails from that sorted for size and a roll of used ten gauge copper wire, mostly with insulation still on it.
He also had twenty .22 long rifle cartridges in a box molded to hold fifty. He was almost as reluctant to show those to sell as gold. Eileen had asked, when he was revealing his trade goods, if he really wanted to trade them if they were that precious, and he’d blushed.
“I have quite a few of them.”
“Oh, if you are sure you won’t run out,” Eileen agreed.
“I have a couple .22 rifles and a pistol,” Vic explained. “A gun almost always has a particular brand and type of ammo it shoots better. So when I got a new gun I’d buy five or six brands to try. Once I found which I liked I’d have a half box or so of the others, but I never threw them away, I just tossed them in a storage box. It added up. Then, once I knew which brand shot accurately and didn’t jam in the pistol I tended to just buy a brick or two whenever I was in town and stick them in the cabinet beside the gun safe. I’d trade the leftover odds and ends now, but not the good stuff that works well for my guns.”
“How many cartridges are in a brick?” Eileen asked.
“Five hundred. That sounds like a lot but it’s easy to shoot a couple hundred just knocking tin cans off the fence plinking with friends on the back porch. At least it was back when we knew we could buy more and it was cheap fun.”
“So how many rounds do you have that you need to look so embarrassed?”
“I haven’t counted,” Vic said, “but maybe two or three thousand rounds of odds and ends like this part box. The two brands that my guns all like I suspect I’ve got ten thousand all sealed up still I haven’t cracked open.”
“That’s a life time supply,” Eileen said.
“That could very well be,” Vic agreed. “I doubt the USNA is going to make it a priority to ship ammunition into the lawless zones. So it better last a lifetime, because I doubt we’ll get any more before you ascend to the heavens.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought beyond having things like food and gasoline again,” Eileen admitted. She ignored the teasing crack.
They left the heavy wire and their food with the Woodleighs while they set up camp, and just carried a sample of the nails along to walk around and appraised all the trade offerings.
After a quick walk through the seller’s sites without stopping at each table or tarp, it was apparent there wasn’t much girl’s or small women’s clothing. Color or even stains didn’t matter, but a hole did, and there wasn’t much without a snag or hole. One man had quite a bit of women’s clothing and shoes. He even had a couple pair of high heels. Eileen had to stifle a laugh at that.
“Are these your wife’s things, Sam?” Vic asked, concerned.
“Yes, Sally died over the winter. She got a fever that never went away. She never recovered from it at all. I’ve no idea what it was. It didn’t have any spots or bumps to it. I’d guess not particularly catching, since I never got it, closed in the house with her. But if that’s a worry to you I can understand.”
“My concerns were for you,” Vic said, “and accept my condolences please.”
Sam just nodded deeply to acknowledge that. Eileen was so glad she hadn’t smiled much less laughed at the dead woman’s shoes, no matter how ridiculous they were now after The Day.
Eileen looked at a few but all the shoes were size eight and a half. Even wearing double socks that wasn’t going to work for her, but there was a pair of crepe soled shoes in a FedEx bag that were size seven.
“Those are brand new.” Sam said. “I have no idea why she didn’t wear them. Maybe they weren’t comfortable for her. The date on the bag says she bought them about three years ago.”
“They’re much smaller than the others. I bet she got shipped the wrong size and for some reason never sent them back.” Eileen guessed.
“I never noticed that. Are they your size?” Sam got right to the point.
“They are indeed, but I wasn’t shopping for shoes,” Eileen insisted.
“Up to you,” Sam shrugged, “but shoes wear out fast. We may be down to making moccasins and clogs before we start getting new in from outside.”
“The man has a point,” Vic said. “You have to grab what you see sometimes instead of what you planned.”
Sam ended up with the cartridges, two silver quarters and a piece of corn bread that was from his lunch that Vic hadn’t eaten.
“Are you happy with that deal?” Eileen asked, after they were away. “Sam seems to drive a pretty hard bargain, and you didn’t argue much. Were you feeling a bit sorry for him over his wife?”
“Yes, but that was also the best thing he had on his table,” Vic said. “If he didn’t get a good price for them he’d have felt bad about it, maybe even worked up a grudge and held it against us in the future. He’s right too, there won’t be any regular manufactured shoes to be had at any price in a year.”
“And I think you saw how badly I wanted them,” Eileen said. “Thank you.”
The building wasn’t open yet so they walked around. On the other side her family was set up to sell. Her mom and grandma were seated in lawn chairs behind a tarp, her grandpa standing behind them, not her dad. That was exactly the opposite of what she expected if there was anyone there from her family.
Vic looked carefully over his shoulders, both ways.
“He’s not here,” her grandpa informed Vic, knowing who he was looking for. “He said it was too risky to leave the place empty, that someone should stay and guard it, because people will know so many of us will be coming here.”
Rather than express disbelief of those motives Eileen just said, “Good.” That got a hostile look from her grandfather, but no reaction from the women. Eileen half expected them to pick an argument with her but it didn’t happen.
“Here are your things I promised I’d bring,” her mom said, and waved at a surprisingly big duffel bag.
“Thank you. I do appreciate that, and I’m surprised you could bring that much along when you had to carry trade goods too. I’m not saying it to start a fight, but I wasn’t sure dad would let anybody come.”
“He wasn’t thrilled to send us off,” her mom admitted, “but we have some things we really need to buy. Your grandpa made a sort of a three wheel cart out of an extended wheelbarrow and the two wheel cart we carried stuff on from the truck. He locked it up to a tree with a chain, back by our tent, because everybody who saw it has tried to buy it. We got tired of telling them no before we could move on to any other business.”
Eileen was softening a little, getting ready to politely ask if they were making any sales, and her grandma spoiled it.
“So, are you pregnant yet?”
It wasn’t said kindly, like a grandma interested in getting grandchildren. It was said with snippy disapproval. Even her mom looked unhappy at it.
“That isn’t… isn’t going to be, any of your business,” Eileen said. “Vic, would you get my bag please, and let’s go.”
He nodded, walked around and put the bulky duffel over a shoulder. The hostile exchange didn’t leave Eileen wanting to say thank you again, but Vic was so polite he gave her mom a courteous nod before he turned away. Her granddad stood like a statue through the whole thing.

Chapter 17
Linda Pennington arrived at work early before the manager Detweiler went home. He’d be tired after working, but she decided that was better than trying to go in at the start of his shift when he’d be impatient to get things sorted out.
She felt even less secure than normal, and she never normally felt all that secure. That went back into things she didn’t even remember in her childhood, and the chances of her ever investing the time and effort with a real professional to discover them was about nil. The fact that she was actively creating most of her own insecurity now did not find the tiniest nook in her mind.
Having a job and a paycheck was one of the few things contributing to her positive feelings of security. If she was able to improve that part of her situation it would be to the good. She had held back from doing so awhile because she didn’t want to jeopardize what she already had by trying to improve it. Detweiler seemed a decent and reasonable boss, and she didn’t think he’d see any attempt to improve herself as an expression of dissatisfaction. Her very unsatisfactory conversations with both the Head of Security, Jon, and her husband, Mo, tipped her over the edge to speak up.
Mr. Detweiler was seated at the bar examining his pad, but when she came up he courteously flipped it screen down and gave her his full attention. “Ah, Mrs. Pennington, what may I do for you?”
“I’m very happy with what I have been doing for you, cleaning, but I realize there is a limit what you need to pay for cleaning services. I don’t want to badger you for higher wages, but I wonder if there is anything else I could do for the club that would improve my circumstances? Is there any need for office work or even something in the kitchen I could do that would pay better and be as secure for the future I’d be very interested.”
“There are several possibilities,” Detweiler allowed. “We do have a certain turnover even if it isn’t steady. Other businesses do poach employees from time to time since there is a perpetual labor shortage.
“If you are not urgently looking for an immediate change that would make matters easier, since we could have you slotted to move up when something comes open.
“I’m not in any hurry to lose you, but most of our help have some college or degrees. If you could find something that utilizes earlier training I certainly couldn’t fault you for taking advantage of it.”
“I do have a Masters,” Linda revealed. “However it is in Post-Gender Cultural Intersectionality. Back on Earth I could have been employed by any number of government agencies, or smaller local governments to monitor compliance with employment standards or qualify companies to bid for supply and services. Here on Home there aren’t really any such laws or quotas to oversee.”
Detweiler blinked a couple times and decided there was no point in asking exactly what broader field of study encompassed that degree. He suspected it was immersed in what people increasingly called Earth Think, and he’d be better off not to ask too much to maintain a good relationship with his cleaning lady. He just smiled and nodded, choosing tact, and went on.
“We have three positions under the chef in the kitchen. The sous chef really requires almost the same level of experience as the head chef. We could train for a roundsman to work in the lower two positions. Those two have to be flexible and do any job. We don’t have any further specialties like a sauce chef. It’s physically a small kitchen so a fifth position would be difficult to fit in, even as a trainee. Did you perhaps actually cook items for your family on Earth? That would be an advantage. I was given to understand that is becoming less common on Earth all the time.”
“In the larger cities, that’s true. That’s what you will see promoted in videos as normal now. They don’t want to equip small apartments with real kitchens. But we always lived in smaller towns, almost rural areas, where cooking is still common and not regarded as an exotic hobby. I’ve mixed things and chopped things, and cooked them on a real stove, just like my mother and her generation always did,” Linda said.
“That’s good,” Detweiler said, nodding. “I only have one person doing our advertising, payroll, menus and things you would call office work, and he’s part time. Chances are that isn’t going to open up or offer you much advantage. We might get an opening for a bartender. Forgive me for saying I’m not sure you have the personality for that job, I wouldn’t attempt it myself. It’s a difficult mix of knowing when to be outgoing and when to just fill the order. On occasion even knowing how to tactfully tell the customer he’s had enough. You also need to know hundreds of drinks and be able to make them from memory. Do you have any experience that way?”
“No, alcohol was a problem in my family home and mother would never allow a drop to be in the house,” Linda said. “I agree I wouldn’t qualify for that.”
“If you’d like to try helping in the kitchen, it would pay a bit more even to start, and the potential to make much more if you advance and show a talent for it is there. Think on it,” Detweiler invited, “and if you want to try it some time when one of our people needs a day off I can call a temp service to cover your cleaning the same day. Be aware it’s a fourteen hour day, which is a long day on your feet even at a half G. The pace is difficult at peak times, instead of setting your own pace until you are done, as you are accustomed to do cleaning. If you decide you want to attempt it get back to me and I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you, I’ll think on what you told me and get back to you if it seems to be the direction I should go,” Linda said.
Detweiler had no illusions he’d be hearing from her. He’d seen the look flash over her face when he’d mentioned fourteen hour days and a brutal pace. He worked fourteen hours sometimes himself, though not on his feet and hustling. If Linda tried it he predicted one shift would be enough to dissuade her.
“Forget that,” Linda thought as she went away. She had no idea the kitchen help worked a full shift plus, from before opening until after closing. “How can they do that?” she wondered, amazed.
* * *
On the Sandman, in ballistic transit to Mars, a sensor was intermittently showing bad, in the third pressurized and temperature controlled hold for foodstuffs and other sensitive cargo. Most of the freight was lashed down and palletized, but the volume left over was filled with very flimsy mesh plastic bags holding small consumer bags of popular snacks as filler. They could be tucked in odd shaped spaces and the Martians appreciated the luxury of treats from home at very little mass penalty.
The instrument tech had to pull three of the fill bags out of the hold into the ship’s corridor to create a channel to get to the aft bulkhead. He didn’t need much of a tunnel in zero G. He pulled the sensor module, checked that none of the contacts fingers were bent or corroded blew the socket out with contact cleaner, and wiped the gold pads on the module off with a special contact wipe. When he inserted it again it felt snug and the command deck reported it holding steadily green now instead of flickering.
When he guided the first bag back in he jerked it around roughly scattering a few of the smaller packages at the rear of the hold. It just happened to have the spicy corn chips he loved, and two bags got ‘lost’ and tucked inside his coveralls. When they unloaded at Mars it would be hard to prove when or how the flimsy carrier bag got ripped. The people unloading might even think it just got caught on something. He was due to go off duty and stopped at the mess to get a drink to take to his bunk. After handling the tainted snack bags, he left an invisible trail of spots where he touched surfaces, from the hold to the mess and back to his bunk.
If he hadn’t inoculated himself from his hands he certainly was doomed once he opened the first bag with his teeth. The next morning he didn’t feel quite right, but it wasn’t enough to go on a sick call. He had work in the tiny repair shop he shared with his team leader and another tech. He was engrossed in a difficult repair under the binocular microscope and felt a minor urge to go to the head but wanted to solder the last connection first.
The minor urge was suddenly a painful disaster. He had a sudden unexpected eruption that the polite term of flatulence was never meant to encompass. The suit tech scrambled out the hatch going, “Oh my God, Oh my God… ” He was between the hatch and his leader. “I uh, have to go change. In fact I think I need to shower,” he told the man in horror.
“Get out of here, and don’t come back until you have a clearance from medical,” his supervisor gasped, pointing out the hatch. Little did the man know he was already doomed. They had shared tools and computer keys.
He got a jump suit and a laundry bag, but when he got to the shower he had a sudden eruption from the other end, vomiting all over the shower enclosure and controls. By the next morning thirteen of the twenty seven man crew were sick.
The XO, warned while still in his cabin the next morning, put on gloves and a mask and ate only sealed ration packs he washed in his own tiny sink. He held out three days and he was the last one to succumb.
* * *
Vic carried her treasure bag to the Woodleigh’s camp off near the tree line. They still had enough daylight to examine it. She hadn’t been gone so long that things didn’t fit, though some might not in a year. In particular there were her good hiking boots and jewelry. There were lumps in a pair of socks and when fished out they were astonished to find her mom thought to return the empty brass from the two rounds she’d used to kill the home invaders.
“That was very well done,” Vic said. “She figured out I might reload them.”
Included was a small selection of the trade goods her family was selling. The year before, Eileen had found a wrecked truck on their long trek to her grandparent’s cabin. They’d sheltered over the winter by the truck which had much needed supplies. That’s why she told her dad she’d saved them twice, by finding the truck the winter of last year, and killing the home invaders very early this spring.
She’d accused her dad of not appreciating her actions, but her mom obviously had some gratitude, to include any of the precious trade goods they carried for three weeks from the truck wreck. She had sewing needles, a few butane lighters, and a bottle of acetaminophen they didn’t consider trade goods because they only had two. That was actually pretty generous Eileen had to admit.
“Where will we put our things while we’re at the party?” Eileen asked.
“Arnold and his wife insist they came for the trading and for their daughter to socialize. They are content to guard camp and wait for us to return,” Vic said.
“We should do something nice for them,” Eileen insisted.
“If I may presume, one of those packs of needles would probably be much more payment than they are expecting, and would be well received,” Vic said.
“It’s not presumptuous,” Eileen insisted. “We hold things in common now.”
Vic didn’t say anything, but he looked pleased.
* * *
“This is interesting,” Heather told Jeff. “The Sandman in transit to Mars says they have some sort of outbreak of diarrhea and nausea, but no fatalities. It doesn’t scan on their medical tech’s instrument as a known organism, but they report it acts like a Noro virus.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Jeff said. “We’ve had a real hard time getting Earthie crew on the Isle of Hawaiki to keep a clean galley and head. That’s even though we are using first world crew, not cheap labor from exotic third world hell holes.”
“You’d think they would have the crew in quarantine for a week or more before letting them start such a long voyage,” Heather said, “I certainly would. In zero G and jammed in tight quarters sick? That’s going to be fun.”
“Ugh… imagine if they transmitted it to the Mars colony,” Jeff said.
“”Surely they won’t let anybody go down from the moon to the surface until they don’t show any symptoms,” Heather said. “They can unload the supplies in vacuum or if it’s pressurized freight wear suits to pull it off. You know they have everything sealed up and fog it to kill any vermin, so they’ll be fine unless they do something incredibly stupid, and let somebody with an active infection take the shuttle down. I’m going to copy that to April’s message feed so she sees it when she gets back.
“Send it to Happy too,” Jeff said. “He has an interest in Mars stuff.”
* * *
“It wasn’t supposed to infect the crew,” Paul said.
“Not your fault,” Markus said. “It’s safe to say somebody was pilfering. I can’t imagine how they would have gotten it otherwise.”
“Well, that’ll teach them,” Paul said, “it’s nasty stuff, not lethal, but they will be miserable and you can’t get rid of it without the specific agent.”
* * *
Mackay walked Sabato to breakfast and then Dr. Ames clinic. He should have been able to find his own way. Everything was on the same corridor as his hotel, and he didn’t even have to go very far around the ring. After his stupid escapade the night before he just didn’t trust the fool to not elope for some hare-brained reason and mess everything up.
Mackay could see he was impulsive and self-centered. He was exactly the sort who figured if he didn’t make an appointment everyone would just rearrange everything for his convenience. If Ames rescheduled him six months from now he’d have to buy his own lift ticket or relinquish his prize. He could just imagine how that would go over with this jerk, and it would be bad publicity for the Lotto with some people even if his complaints were unreasonable.
Then there was the slight possibility somebody from the debacle with the beam-dogs might run into him. He had no confidence the fellow wouldn’t mouth off and stir up new trouble, maybe even get a matching shiner for the one he already had. The idea made Mackay smile.
Once he delivered Sabato Mackay waited. After he was gone to the back he asked the receptionist to tell him when Sabato was actually being treated. He figured it would probably be safe to leave once the man had a line in his arm anchoring him. Mackay would be back before he finished for the day to escort him to dinner and back to the hotel.
The technician who took Sabato to the tiny treatment room offered the use of a wall screen if he wanted entertainment. She was petite and exotic, dressed in a very plain Sari suitable for business, with a yellow bindi between her eyebrows, and if the bindi did not make the point she valued prosperity she also wore enough high karat gold jewelry to make most other ladies take a deep breath.
Sabato saw she was obviously attracted to him, because she was polite. So few ladies were polite to him that Sabato instantly took it for much more than it really meant. Indeed, so many wise in the ways of life had their internal Creepo-Meter peg over from their first glance at him that it was rare to be treated with respect. That it might be a reasonable business tactic in association with such an expensive medical procedure never occurred to him. He was sure it was his personal charm and good looks.
Anaya’s first clue Sabato might be a problem had actually happened before even seeing him, when Tanya the receptionist dropped a text to her spex.
“Honey, the customer on the way back looks like a brawler and an Earthie. He has a handler delivering him who I know to be a very expensive security guy. Take your name badge off and stick it in your pocket, and don’t be in a compartment alone with this guy unless you call me to guard your butt.”
Sometimes, Anaya found Tanya pessimistic, but not always, and nothing she suggested would be harmful even if it turned out that there was no need for caution. She also gripped the ornate enameled and jeweled handle of her kanjhar and made sure it moved freely in the ornate silver sheath. It was ridiculously over decorated, and might be mistaken for just a fashion accessory, but the blade was entirely functional sharp Damascus steel under all the inlay and engraving.
Sabato droned on about his winning the Life Lotto while Anaya arranged an IV ready to use, and pasted a couple wireless sensors on his neck and wrists. He just reached out and touched the ceramic taster pad when she requested it, and didn’t protest like he had on entering Home.
Anaya looked briefly quizzically at the result of his touch, and held up a forestalling digit to interrupt his ongoing babble. Custom Tailored Genes also held the contract to manage the database for habitat entry and exit. In checking to make sure who she was treating Anaya saw Sabato self identified as Donald Duck. That made a much deeper impression than his continuing monologue.
“Do you want me to explain the steps of today’s procedure and detail what I am administering to you?” Anaya asked.
“No, I’m told you guys are the best, and I wouldn’t understand the technical stuff anyway. I filled the form out for what options I want. You see how lucky I am, how would you like to hook up, go out to dinner, and make an evening of it with me after my treatment?” he asked, with a leering waggle of his eyebrows.
Anaya leaned in close nose to nose and her own brows furrowed in anger, ruining the calm flat canvas for her bindi which almost disappeared in a crease. Sabato leaned back hard in the chair, uncomfortable because invading someone’s personal space was something he did to others. He wasn’t used to it being applied to him.
“I’m a professional, who would never socialize with patients under my care. If you weren’t my patient, I never slum date anyone not my social peer. Your run of luck was all used up winning the Life Lotto and you never ever had enough luck to think you would get lucky with me.
“It’s only because I am a professional that I would never vindictively pick the interlocution enzymes controlling your genes to give you webbed feet to match your name, Mr. Duck. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Just quack yes or no, without elaboration, and we can move on.”
Sabato managed a slight nod yes, difficult because he had his head pressed back hard against the headrest. For a wonder he even managed to squeak out a rare, but very sincere, “My bad.”
Anaya stood back straight, out of his space, unclutched her fist from around her bejeweled dagger and took a deep breath. She even forced a smile that was nowhere near as sincere as Sabato’s curt apology. The rest of his procedure went well, and in silence. She had no need to call Tanya to manage her patient. That was all to the good for him. Tanya could be scary.
* * *
“It would be cozy,” Arnold Woodleigh admitted, “but you are welcome to sleep in our tent tonight if you want. The radio said no rain for tonight but everything will be covered in dew in the morning.”
“No thank you, Arnold,” Vic said. “I don’t like being closed in like that. I’ve sleep outside in much worse weather than this.”
Arnold’s eyes slid to Eileen. He was probably thinking she might not be as thrilled to rough it as Vic, but to his credit he said nothing.
Vic led her off to the tree line and picked a route in among the Aspen with care, stopping to look back at the clearing a couple times. There were a few stouter trees a little ways in and he walked around examining them and looking back to the clearing. Eileen had no idea what he was he was hoping to find.
When his face suddenly relaxed, she knew he’d found it. He opened the fanny pack he’d worn and got out a hammock.
“Big enough for two,” Vic informed her with a wink. “Watch how I tie it up so you can do it another time. It doesn’t require preparing a flat smooth ground area and you can be in among the trees where you are much less visible.”
Next he pulled a very thin rip-stop tarp out and it was hung loosely with two corners toward the trees that supported the hammock. The uphill corner away from the clearing was tied up on a line to another tree, and the corner towards the clearing and the Woodleigh’s tent was fastened near the ground with a twist in ground anchor.
“I have a mosquito net too, but we won’t need one this early,” Vic told her.
Eileen watched as he took a couple bundles of mottled brown cord and strung trip lines between the trees all around their camp just above ankle height. They were almost invisible in the day, at night they’d be impossible to see.
The last touch was to put a tiny game camera on a tree, looking back at their camp. It was motion activated and they’d check it on returning and know if somebody visited the site in their absence.
“OK, now let’s go to the party,” Vic said.
When Vic walked away they didn’t follow the same path back out of the woods. He took them parallel to the edge so they came out well away. Eileen could see the logic of it all, but it was so well hidden she wasn’t sure she could find it in the day, much less in the dark after the party. She said as much to Vic.
After he thought on it a bit, he replied. “I’ll add a roll of braided fishing line to my kit. We can tie it off near the camp next time and run it out to an easy to find spot, a big tree or something, and you can wind it back up as you follow it in.”
The party was fun. In a way less stressful than attending single, but the electricity in the air of being looked over and looking back in turn was gone too. The girls who had given her such a hard time at the last get together stared in open mouthed astonishment that she came with Vic, not her family. Things had moved ahead faster than they could possibly imagine, without anyone consulting them. It was all Eileen could do not to laugh out loud at their indignation.

Chapter 18
Surely it was a miracle better than any magician’s trick to tell the computer “execute” to leave one star and arrive at another before your heart beat again. April felt that Abracadabra would probably make more sense than “execute”. The rest of the crew were alert and calm, but surely they felt the same thrill inside she did, even if discipline prevailed over expressing it.
“Spectrum confirms it’s Virginis 61,” Alice reported. “Thanks,” Delores said. “Nothing big and solid enough to return our radar to about ten light seconds. Starting optical scan,” Alice continued. Delores didn’t bother to acknowledge that. “Distance to star is about one point six light hours by disk size and astronomical data.”
“Can we also get a finer base point to navigate in-system from comparing pulsars like we could back home?” April wondered.
“That’s running concurrently. It will finish first, if we hold position here a bit while letting the optical scan for planets run,” Alice said. “I can’t give you a super accurate position from this point if we jump again in just a few minutes, but if I can get a half hour of observations and at least four known pulsars in the clear, that is that we aren’t observing through too high a gravitational gradient, I can relocate us within about five hundred meters.”
“What if we jumped within say – five minutes?” April asked.
“We’re coming up on that pretty soon. I could bring us back on this point in the ten to fifteen kilometer range,” Alice said.
“That seems like plenty of accuracy for missing planets,” April said.
“Yes, but if we start nosing around a gas giant’s moon system or rings it isn’t nearly accurate enough to find a particular rock or snow ball again,” Alice said.
“My intent,” Delores told April, “is to sit here until the optical scan has identified everything down to largest asteroids, then jump at about a forty five degree angle from our present heading pointed directly into the star, but correcting into the system plane of rotation. A two point seven light hour jump will take us to a point about ninety degrees around the star. I’ll repeat that, do a full optical scan from each quadrant, and have a pretty decent map of this system once our computer integrates all the readings.”
“Sounds like a plan,” April agreed cheerfully. She would have looked at the system from opposite sides, looking down at the star’s poles first, but both ways had their own advantages and she didn’t want to interfere in Delores’ command.
All four of them sat relaxed but alert, letting the sensors work and compile data. There wasn’t anything happening externally or with systems that needed comment. Boring on the bridge of a ship was good, given the alternatives.
“Our optical survey is complete,” Alice eventually announced. “We have three gas giants, four rocky planets, one of which is far on the other side of the star that we’ll need a better look at later. Two have definite atmospheres, but not enough free oxygen to be detectable by spectroscopy. I also have a couple asteroids and one body you might want to call a planetoid. We’ll know better when we have a closer look.”
“I’m correcting to the plane of the star’s rotation and will follow that around,” Delores said. They could feel the ship twist under them as she turned it. April could see her typing in commands, but the keys were silent. She could have called the commands up on her screen but didn’t bother, leaning back in her couch so she could see all three of the other screens. She couldn’t read them, but the status lights told her everything important was fine.
When the star lay off to the left of their nose Delores said, “execute.” The light immediately went from streaming into the back of the cabin where April was, to shining from out of their sight behind into the left ports and just illuminating the rear of the command seat.
“Ship, rotate and hold directly, addressing the star, execute,” Deloris said instead of keying it in, because it was such a simple unambiguous command there was little that could go wrong. The ship again smoothly turned under them and the forward ports darkened until the star was straight ahead. It was still slightly bright to stare at directly for long. Deloris didn’t like that so she said, “Ship, reduce transparency of the center two viewports to point five percent.” That left a disc visible that didn’t dazzle.
“Alice, you may start your optical survey,” Delores said.
“Survey started, nothing in range of our radar again,” Alice reported.
“Why are we emitting radar with such limited range?” April wondered.
“There might be a rock out there with our name on it,” Delores said.
“It doesn’t draw enough power to use much fuel,” Alice added.
April didn’t say anything, not wanting to argue, but Alice asked, “Why wouldn’t you have it on?”
“Well it’s visible from much further away than it actually lets us see,” April reminded her. “It’s kind of like shouting – Hello? Is anybody home?”
“If anyone of consequence were home I think we’d have heard their radio chatter when we arrived,” Delores said.
“True, I totally agree, for any sort of technological inhabited world that would be a security concern for us,” April said.
“What else would be here?” Delores asked.
“We’re here aren’t we?” April pointed out.
“What are the chances two star faring races would happen to explore the same system at the same time?” Delores insisted.
“I have no data at all to work from to answer that,” April said.
Delores looked satisfied, nodding affirmatively, like that proved some point. For the first time April felt a twinge of worry that Delores didn’t have sufficient imagination for her command. Lack of data wasn’t affirmative of anything.
“Permission to make us some coffee?” Barak asked, with a formality April hoped was humor.
“Alice, can Barak move around and not mess up your scan?” Delores asked. April hadn’t thought of that. He had enough mass to jar the ship around while they were reading very small angles, and not smoothly at all.
“Give me another twelve minutes please, to finish up the x-ray survey, and then after I have the pulsars located he can move around freely and not have to worry about doing it slowly or bumping anything. The optical scan is much less fussy. I’m not trying to nail down orbital periods and rotations out to the twelfth significant figure.”
“In that case I’d love some coffee. Call out to him when you are done,” Delores instructed Alice.
Maybe Delores wasn’t the tyrant April had starting thinking if she didn’t demand they come back and check with her again. Time seemed to go slower waiting for just a few minutes to pass. A whole hour you could sit back and dismiss it from mind, if not watching the seconds blink over.
Finally Alice announced time up, and told Barak he was free to move around. It wasn’t long until April could smell it brewing, and Barak returned with a mug for each of them.
“Barak,” April asked, “are you still working on the problem Jeff gave you about selecting crew?”
“I gave him my preliminary thoughts, but that’s the sort of thing I don’t just dismiss from further consideration and consider it done. I know he will continue to be interested in refining his methods. If I come up with something new, or even feel the need to contradict something I told him before, I’d report it to him. Why? Have you some sudden insight from sitting back there observing us?”
“Mostly the realization all four of us have no trouble staying alert for an hour while the optics compile data. We might not all do it the same way, but I can think of several people I know who couldn’t do this. They would fall asleep or be forced to do something to stay sane while sitting so long without some stimulation, music at a minimum.”
“How do you cope with lack of any strong stimulation?” Barak asked back.
“I always have a dozens of ongoing projects to think about. I’m trying to figure out how to make my cubic on the Moon pay for its own development without my constantly needing to be there and manage it.
“I’m trying to figure out myself a little bit. I’m finding I have associates with all sorts of positive things going for them, but I don’t have this feeling of liking them for social things, and it makes me guilty, especially if they like me. There are other people who haven’t done anything special for me and aren’t nearly as smart or helpful who I do like without understanding why. Maybe I should audit a psych course to help me sort it out.
“Jeff has been having people used to the Earth banking system asking for him to issue derivatives, and he sees no honest way to do so with our system of banking. We don’t issue credit as money and interest rates are unregulated and tied to market demand. He insists what they want is insurance, but sees no rational way to assess risk and write a policy anybody could afford. Earth central banks just set interest rates, so how can he predict that? Every crash the Earth economy has experienced in the last hundred years has wiped out any benefit people holding credit default hedges had because the counter parties are always over extended and can’t pay. Yet they are all still eager to buy into a system they have seen fail every thirty years or so. He’d love to be able to accommodate all these people waving money and demanding product, if he or I can find any way to do it ethically.
“But what I was thinking about right now before you asked, was that you could test crew applicants, should test crew applicants, for the ability to sit and watch for a change on a screen or an audio signal without falling asleep or into such a mesmerized haze they might as well be asleep.”
“If you have need to run other short jaunts like the one we are doing right now, you could use them to evaluate crew for much longer flights without revealing every quality for which you are selecting. It’s much harder to fake your way through a test when you aren’t even sure what behavior is being observed,” Delores suggested.
“Yes,” Barak agreed, “that might be so effective it would be worth spending the money to add such testing and training as part of other--”
“What’s that?” Alice called out. There was a hard >thump< like somebody had stomped on the deck hard and a violet spark appeared beside the star at which they were pointed. Whatever it was, it was going so fast it visibly receded even as they watched.
“Respectfully request you turn the damn radar off,” April said.
“I already have,” Alice said, and added, “Sorry Ma’am, my own initiative,” to Delores. “There was no return on the screen when I shut it down, and whatever that shock was moved us enough to terminate my scan.”
“No problem. I expect such initiative from crew, and I’m glad we discussed this before, even if I was skeptical about its probability. No need to curse the radar, April. If you wish to curse the commander directly I will allow I had insufficient imagination. If you wish my immediate resignation, speak, and I’ll offer it. Do you wish to activate the weapons board?”
When Deloris offered to resign, April noticed she reached and turned the ring Heather had given her as a token of her authority with her other hand. It might have been an unconscious gesture, but it was the first sign April saw to indicate Deloris didn’t consider it a silly affectation. Apparently it did mean something to her. If April accepted her resignation, who would she hand the ring to? April didn’t want to find out. Firing her would be a horrible precedent.
“I was out of line to say that,” April admitted. “They aren’t shooting at us, and I doubt they have eyes to see this deep inside their drive cone emissions, but it sure would make me feel much better if you would allow me to bring the board up just on standby and check system readiness.”
“Do it,” Delores granted.
“And off it goes,” Barak said, as the light blinked off. “I don’t want to sound stupid, but please confirm, did I just see what I thought I saw?”
“It’s a jump ship, after the pattern of James Weir’s ship. They have to make a long run to jump under acceleration to have sufficient velocity to make a transition, a jump, to the largest mass at which they are aimed,” April explained. “They come through accelerating and once here they will examine ahead of them for debris or large bodies, and then shut down the drive once they are sure they don’t have to maneuver immediately to avoid collision.”
“Are you scanning all the frequencies we can hear?” Delores asked Alice.
“Yes, and we have nothing incoming so far. Of course I doubt they would waste watts transmitting anything to the rear, in the cone of their exhaust plume. I have no range, but with a little luck our own radar pulses will out range them before they turn and burn on an exit vector to another star, or flip over and brake to stay in this system.”
“OK, I’m open to any suggestions. What is our best course of action?”Delores asked. “Do we need to run, or sit as quiet as a mouse watching a cat?”
“Sit silent and watch what they do. If they never see us then all to the good,” Alice said. “Gather intelligence and deny it to them at this stage.”
“Set up to jump around to the next quadrant in case they do detect us,” Barak said. “If it’s like Weir’s ship, then they won’t have any idea how we did it, and can’t follow. They can’t possibly even know where we went until the speed of light lag both ways lets them see our new position. Assuming they can see us at a couple light hours range. We can still collect data on them and wait until we’re sure we won’t be leading them to go back home.”
“What they both said,” April agreed. “Sit and watch, but go ahead and jump if they turn and paint us with their radar. If that happens I don’t want to sit in one spot to wait to see if they will shoot at us. They might have some speed of light beam weapon we’d never see coming.”
“It all sounds good,” Delores agreed. “Setting up the jump and positioning us primed to go. Nav comp mic is open and not tagged to any one voice for safety. Nobody say the magic word unless you want the computer to actually do it.”
“I have some low level pulses,” Alice said. After a bit she expanded on that. “There seems to be a belt with a few rocks ahead of where the vessel came in. I believe I am seeing their radar echo off a half dozen or so of those rocks without seeing the primary transmission. They appeared in a spread on the same general heading. That means they must have a very high power output for me to get a readable echo light minutes away. The frequency is a bit higher than ours. None of which gives us a hard base line to establish how far away they are from us or how fast they are going away from us.”
“This is something Jeff and I have been discussing,” April revealed. “We need a radar system that can paint small passive targets across an entire star system. I don’t know how we can do it but we desperately need it.”
“Yes, we’re like an explorer in a huge hanger with a small flashlight. We can see around us but have no idea where the walls are exactly and if there are any obstacles unless we just blunder onto them. The really big stuff like planets we can observe at optical frequencies passively, but other ships or tiny objects like a habitat are lost to us unless they radiate strongly.”
“If that guy came in the system behind us, and had his drive turned off before he flew past, we’d have never seen him,” Barak thought out loud, “although we might have still felt the thump.”
“If this ship hadn’t come in within a few degrees of our own heading we’d have still never seen him,” Alice pointed out. “Even if he has the ability to see our little radar emissions, as a matter of timing he might easily enter the system and exit without ever crossing our wave front. If he cuts back to that side of the star where we already were, he might run into our pulses, but if he goes the other way they will likely be too weak to pick up.”
“I’m just as happy he didn’t come in behind us and see us with his forward looking radar before we even knew he was around,” Barak said. “We’ve got a blind spot back there too you know.”
“OK, I just added a drone to be released after jumping in to look behind us as an absolute necessity on the equipment list before our next exploration,” April said. “Not an active transmitter, but a listening unit.”
“If you are going to do that, make it the sensor pack for a big dish that unfolds and has some serious area to suck in a signal,” Delores said. “We can use it to look forward too, after checking our rear. That way we’ll get much more bang from what transmitter wattage we can carry. We don’t need a huge antenna to transmit.”
“How much more range would that give us?” Barak wondered, looking at Alice who was his go to person for electronics.
“I need to sit and do the numbers, but off the top of my head, if we have a long range mode for the transmitter that charges up and emits a single big pulse every minute or so and a dish that unfolds to ten or fifteen meters across, I bet we could see ship sized targets out to around a light hour.”
“But a dish that big is going to be physically delicate and take time to deploy if it’s not going to mass too much,” Alice said. “It will be like be built like a spider web, and if we have to run for it without time to fold it up we’d just have to abandon it.”
“Leave a demolition charge on the receiver to reduce all the circuitry to a molten blob if we ever have to abandon it,” April said.
“Yes, the actual dish will have to be a clever design,” Delores agreed, “but nothing that would be too big a prize for a technological civilization. The receiver however will have to be some of our best stuff we wouldn’t want anyone to examine. Even if they already have better, it would tell them too much about us.”
“Congratulations,” Barak said. “You sound as paranoid as April now.”
“Given the choice between paranoid and stupid I’ll take paranoid.”
The lights flickered and went out including their console screens. The main circuit breaker board within reach of Alice erupted in a staccato rush of clacks and the majority of the status lights on them went from green to orange.
“Restore function on navigation and the drive first!” Delores demanded.
“The reaction drive and jump drive never went down,” Alice replied, yelling a little even though there was no need. “Nav comp controls are rebooting, the screen looks normal and it should be hot to jump in fifteen more seconds… Live! If you need to jump it will do it, but we may have drifted off attitude slightly. Our position will be verified and a realigned in another thirty seconds or so.”
“Was that an EMP attack?” Barak asked.
“I think they rolled over to brake and that was just their normal radar looking back at us once the put their tail to the star,” Alice said.
“Normal?” Barak asked indignantly.
“Well it could be a narrow steerable beam,” Alice admitted. “That would up the power density too. So they are about ten light minutes in system from us if it took them a couple minutes to roll over to reverse thrust. We have a fix and a good aim at our next position if you want to bug out before that wave front gets back to them and they say, “What’s this?” They will ping us again for sure.”
“Lord yes, execute!” Delores said, and the star light did the same instant swap through ninety degrees. They aligned nose to the star again and gave everybody a bathroom break before starting an x-ray scan for pulsars. The less fussy optical scan Alice started immediately.
“Well, if that scared it out of anybody you can go first,” Delores joked, but it wasn’t far off the truth.
“Anybody want drinks?” Barak offered after he took the last turn. They had enough jitters without the caffeine; he brought two bottles of water back.
“Double checking, the radar didn’t accidentally get turned back on in resetting everything did it?” Delores asked.
Alice checked carefully before replying. “No ma’am, it’s dead.”
“Let’s sit tight, have a light supper, and rather than jump again right away I’d like to see if the aliens give any indication they can locate us here. Alice, how long would it take them to see us here if they can see us on their radar?”
“It depends, like we were discussing, they may be using a wide angle search radar or a very narrow beam radar. If they went to a narrow beam that would indicate they had some other means of determining approximately where we were to scan that area of the sky. If it was a wide angle search, I’d be even more impressed at the energy level. However, I’d be just as happy if they don’t have a narrow steerable beam radar, because in my mind that’s targeting radar.
“They aren’t that far off our previous position, and opening at a slight angle, so they’re still about two point seven light hours away. It’ll be another couple hours before we could see a signal bounce off us here, and a bit over five hours before it returns and they could relocate us here. That would be impressive tech way beyond ours. We can’t see them maneuver from here. We’ll have no idea if they saw us and decided to ignore us and keep going or if they will go into a long braking burn that will carry them around the star.
“If they decide to go look at that odd radar return we won’t be there next time they look of course. If they continued to intercept that point anyway, it could take them days to get there and we’d only know it if they keep running their radar. Their protocol might be to shut it down to investigate any odd return. They might not be aggressive. They might be just as concerned as us to meet somebody and shut down that radar and bug out of the system instead looking for us.”
“Why do you assume aliens?” Barak objected.
“What else could it be?” Alice asked.
“Other humans?” Barak asked back. At her skeptical look Barak expanded. “We snuck out of the Solar System without anybody knowing. Why couldn’t somebody else have done the same? It seemed like at least a possibility worth considering, since we are so close to home.
“We were looking down the business end of a huge plasma drive,” April said. “I can’t see somebody secretly building a gigantic vessel with the current shortage of materials and lack of space building capacity. Certainly not build something in secret way bigger than anything that’s ever been built before. Where would they even do it? You couldn’t hide it anywhere in Earth orbit.”
“OK, that makes sense,” Barak admitted. “Scratch that idea.”
“We’re going to need some better software,” Alice complained. “I can’t pin it down to exactly what star they came from with my current astronomical data and the rough heading we saw them on. That alone is a pretty good indication they aren’t humans though. They came in from the other side of the sky than Earth. Somebody would have had to build a secret big ship, with a drive less effective than ours, and have taken it out far deeper than us already.”
“I’m conflicted,” Delores said. “I don’t especially want to keep station here for days watching for some indication they saw us that might not even happen. Neither, if we do see them coming out to meet us, am I sure I want to let them get a close look at us even if they aren’t hostile. I’d rather survive for sure to get the report back home.”
“Report to whom?” April asked
“Well, humanity,” Delores said, like it was obvious.
“Oh, Honey, no, not a good idea,” Barak surprised them by saying.
“Jeez, this has been a difficult cruise. Do you want to tell me why, Barak?”
“First of all, if they do believe you, it undoes all our plans for quietly exploring and setting claims for ourselves. Then, as a consequence of our telling them, you can bet the Earthies will demand all our tech and data for free as their God given right. Instead of being grateful we shared it, they’ll be mad at us that it was kept hidden before, and you won’t get so much as a thank you if you do give it to them on a silver platter. They’ll make all sorts of big noises about the common heritage of mankind, human racial loyalty, and how it’s for the children to excuse stealing it under duress, even if we have no indication at all these people are hostile to us for them to need it.
“But the most likely response would be to demand all this information including how to build their own star drives, and our mission recordings, and still deny our story.”
“That would be insane,” Delores objected.
“I didn’t say the ones who matter wouldn’t believe it. But the majority of them are still denying James Weir jumped out and vanished,” Barak said. “Tell me that’s sane. Last time I saw a poll it was well over half the people in the developed countries said it was a publicity stunt and a fraud. That seems to be what the governments want them to believe.”
“There a side to it you don’t know that’s even worse,” April told them. “Jeff can only get a limited amount of critical materials our drive uses from his mom. There simply isn’t any other source, and he hasn’t figured out how to make it himself. So even if we literally gave them the build files to fabricate the damn thing they still couldn’t do it. How likely do you think it is that the Earthies are going to believe that, and not assume that Jeff’s just holding out on them?”
“It would be war,” Alice said. “A stupid pointless war that would be the death of millions over refusing to give them something we simply can’t deliver. I’m not sure we could win it.”
“I don’t want to win it,” April assured her. “I know what just we three hold for weapons, and the rest of Home has added a lot more capacity than anybody is talking about. It would be a several billion dead and we’d still lose. I could destroy China, or I could destroy North America, but we never wanted to be able to do both. Even then, if we took both big countries down, that leaves a lot of pissed off Earthies in all the other smaller countries who have their own lift capacity now. They still outnumber us. You’d have to kill the planet to win, and as hard as I can be, I’m not willing to do that.”
“Forget I ever said anything,” Delores said.
“If they never see us that seems all to the good to me,” Alice said. “If they did locate us, we’d have to sit here a long time to see them maneuver around the star to try to come to rest near us,” Alice repeated. “We’d probably decide to bug out before letting them get too close, and even doing that tells them too much about us, that we have a drive that doesn’t require a long fast run to jump.
“With a little luck they may decide that one pulse they bounced off us was some sort of system error or anomaly. If they’ve sent a big radar signal propagating across the system why don’t we bug out before it gets here? Two returns that don’t make sense are much harder to ignore than one. A jump on around the star again would put us on the opposite side of the star from them.”
“I tend to agree,” Delores said. “We aren’t equipped to learn that much more about them, but we could reveal a lot about us. Unless someone sees a problem, I’d like to proceed to the next quadrant and take a good reading. That will give us enough to give the next crew here a pretty decent map of the system. Then I’d like to jump out far enough out toward the edge of the system that these folks aren’t ever going to catch a radar return off us. Not even if they come around the star almost straight at us. They’ll jump out before the return ever gets back to them. Comments?”
“We know what frequency to watch,” Alice reminded her. “We could even sit there an extra day. We might get lucky and see their exit. It might be nice to know where they are visiting next.”
“Anybody have any problems or objections to being bored out of your gourds for a day?” Delores asked.
“I always have stuff on my pad to work on,” April said with a wave.
“I’ll just sing for you all,” Barak said. Nobody responded to his threat.
“I have a book,” Alice said.
“That good, but I have a problem for you,” Delores was quick to tell Alice. “I’d like you to examine our star charts and see, if we must, if there is an alternative two jump solution to get back to Earth.”
“Oh, that sounds more interesting anyway,” Alice agreed.
“Setting the jump up then,” Delores said. “She’s yours to run the survey when we arrive, then if you need any help from any of us with that navigation problem feel free to speak up. Slave your sensor board to mine and I’ll take a three hour bridge watch when we arrive, then April, then Barak, Alice last in rotation only if she has had enough rest since coming off duty.”
“Execute,” she told the ship and the miracle happened again.
They never saw the aliens again, and returned home the easy short way, without needing Alice’s two jump solution, after wasting a day.
April was pretty sure if Kurt had been along, instead of her, they could have found better ways to pass most of a day hiding on the system fringe than reading a book. She wondered, had Barak ever mentioned in general or in detail staying over at her apartment? It was the sort of pillow talk the four of them were close enough to have shared, and that wouldn’t bother her. It could be that her being one of the ship owners and technically their boss was too great a divide for them to ignore. They did have private channels in the com consoles and their private devices to discuss it privately if they never thought to do so before the trip. April wasn’t quite sure if she was more relieved or disappointed that it never came up.

Chapter 19
“It’s not a virus, it’s a Helicobacter,” his chief physician told Director Schober. “I know we suspected Noro virus the first few days, but we eliminated that pretty quickly. Eliminating Noro didn’t mean we found out what it was easily. It’s been very difficult, and if Ed Kearney hadn’t gotten much sicker than everybody else we still might be struggling to ID it. It showed up in his blood after we failed to culture it any other way.
“I thought bacterial infections were pretty easy to control,” Schober said. “Can’t you treat it with antibiotics?”
“If it were a common strain, like the one that causes stomach ulcers, we could cure it. Although, we would run out of sufficient antibiotics before we could treat everyone. We never expected to need sufficient drugs for anything to treat every single person on the base. The only thing we stock sufficient to do that are anti-viral drugs for influenza. We have three specific drugs that should work for Helicobacter and I administered all three to Kearney and two other patients. Kearney improved briefly and relapsed. The other two it made no difference at all.”
“Is this something new then, something that mutated?” Schober asked.
Dr. Manson took a deep breath and let it out, visibly uncomfortable at what he had to say.
“In my professional opinion, based on the DNA scans of the organism, and comparing it to the known genome of the entire class of bacteria, it appears to me to be an engineered organism.”
“Surely, if it were a gene engineered plague we’d all be dead,” Schober objected.
“You’d think so,” Manson agreed. “Yet other than Kearney, I don’t know of anyone in serious danger from this. I intend to keep him off work, well hydrated, and as well rested as possible, with good nutritional support. Other than him it’s simply a horrible inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience? It’s strained our sanitary system almost to collapse,” Schober told him. “I’ve had to issue orders about how to use the toilets that people resist, and are very hard to enforce. And it’s almost impossible to get any suit work done. We’ve had some accidents in suits that are disgusting, and they are hard to clean up and take a suit out of service for a couple days. It wouldn’t be impossible for a suit accident to be become life threatening. We’ve running out of cleaning supplies and laundry chemicals and having to improvise. It could kill us all if we don’t stay ahead of it and our environmental systems fail.”
“We’re just going to have to alter our mission and stop a great deal of the research and exploration,” Manson insisted. “We are either going to get some outside help to get this under control or we’re going to have to plan an evacuation, maybe both.”
“The sons of bitches,” Schober said, understanding dawning. “They don’t have to kill us. Just make us sick enough we can’t function in this sort of sealed delicate environment. They have to be downright evil to use the ship’s crew as a vector to infect us. They aren’t in our political camp at all, and they used them.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Manson said. “Since we can’t culture it we can’t really find a source, but the shuttle pilots who brought the supplies down from the Sandman swear they never so much as cracked a helmet faceplate open, and all the Sandman crew have remained up there in isolation. Nobody was allowed down from Deimos, although the shuttle took two people up. We were hoping to let it burn itself out up there. However, we had people sick with symptoms a day after bringing supplies down. I doubt this would survive even brief exposure to vacuum, so I suspect the delicate goods or foodstuffs riding in the pressure and temperature controlled holds was contaminated.”
“On purpose,” Schober said, angry.
It wasn’t a question, but Manson nodded affirmatively.
“Call and ask if anybody had any reason to go in that hold while they were in transit,” Schober demanded.
Manson looked thoughtful, pulled out his pad and called the Moon. It took a few minutes to track down somebody who could check the logs to answer who wasn’t busy throwing up or sitting on the toilet. They just waited.
Dr. Manson sighed and thumbed his pad off. “Well I have my patient zero.”
“Ask for help,” Schober said. “Send the details, the genome, the blood work, anything you think might get us some support. But what I don’t want you to say is that it is engineered. If what you say is true, your peers on Earth should figure that out all by themselves. I’m not willing to make accusations when I have no proof. That would just confuse and delay things. Better if third parties come to that conclusion, who won’t be accused of being paranoid like we would be. Send it all in the clear. Maybe whoever did this will sweat a little if the Earth experts come to the independent conclusion it is biological warfare without our suggesting it. Indeed seeing who feels free to step forward and say that publicly will help us. We are uncertain at this point, who are our friends, and who are our enemies.
“I’ll do that right now,” Manson agreed, “but, uh… may I use your restroom before returning to my office? I’m not sure I can make it.”
Schober gave him permission with a dismissive wave. It was something all of them had to make allowances for now, and they were way beyond mitigating it with dark humor, because they were all worn down by it.
* * *
Reporting everything that happened in the Virginis 61 system, Delores wrapped up their last actions. “We took a last survey sighting and retreated to the very edge of the system. We sat there, out near what I would call the start of their Oort cloud, with no significant planets beyond us, and watched a full day. We never did see the alien ship come around the star from their radar emissions and we never happened to be in the cone of their drive exhaust to see them leaving.”
“Our sensors and radar are pretty useless for covering an entire stellar system,” April complained.
“What April said,” Delores agreed. “When we jumped back around to our entry point we did a quick survey at each stop, trying to catch a clue which direction they could have exited, but saw nothing. A star system is just too big. The tools we have are sufficient to navigating around the Earth –Moon system, and that’s about it. We’re like the guys in early sailing ships who were out in the middle of the vast ocean and couldn’t see over the horizon.”
“So, we aren’t alone. I can’t say that surprises me,” Heather said. “The only thing that surprises me is running into them so close and so soon. If they pass through our neighborhood so near, I’m wondering why we having seen any transiting our own system in the last hundred years?”
Jeff made loud snort of derision. “If I made a few quiet passages of the Solar System recently, or set a watcher to record activity on the planet I’d give it a wide berth. There are billions of the crazy natives speaking a babble of languages and armed to the teeth. When things get nasty they occasionally nuke each other. Just the number of neutrino emitters on the planet would give me pause. If this is what they are like now, why become known to them and risk dealing with what they will be like in another hundred years?”
“We can be rather warlike, but I find it hard to believe they wouldn’t have anything to fear from our technology,” Heather suggested.
“Maybe, maybe not. Don’t forget Captain Cook with all his European tech and iron cannon died bleeding out in the Hawaiian surf, stabbed. April went along to man the weapons board,” Jeff reminded them. “Did you bring up the board live after you saw the alien? Or did you just figure it would be pointless against their superior tech?”
“I asked Delores to let me bring the board up running system checks,” April admitted. “I didn’t ask her to take it hot ready to launch or ever release control of the ship to me. We didn’t have anything with the range to shoot at this bogey even if I’d wanted, but if he saw us and came back to try to board or grapple us… Well, I can’t image anything that wouldn’t get dinged by a three hundred megaton warhead up close and personal.”
“Why do we need such a huge weapon?” Delores objected.
“It’s not that big in space with no ground or air to transmit the blast,” April insisted. “In vacuum, I’d want to get it within five hundred meters to feel sure it was going to kill the target. That’s well inside the fireball. That’s something I want to talk to Jeff about. I’ve read that you should be able to use a fusion device to pump a big x-ray laser. Now and then somebody suggests they already exist, but there are endless rumors about secret weapon systems. Is that science fiction or could such a thing really be made?”
“I’m pretty sure it could be done, but I’ll ask Chen and Papa-san if they know or can find out if somebody has done the actual engineering,” Jeff promised.
Delores said nothing, but her frown said she found the whole thing thoroughly distasteful. Kurt sat and took the whole report in without comment. He undoubtedly felt terrible April had to sub for him.
“So we’re all in agreement to not publicize this contact?” Heather asked.
“I believe I was the only one who initially assumed we’d be revealing it,” Delores said, “but Barak was very persuasive in describing how that would play out. I admit he has the right of it. They would believe and disbelieve the parts of our story according to all their preconceptions, and the likely outcome would be conflict when they made demands we couldn’t meet. Alice felt the same way. When I have literally everybody else I trust in my world telling me why I am wrong I’m not too stupid to listen.
“When we were laying low, hoping to see the aliens leave, both Barak and April pointed out we had no physical proof, nothing that couldn’t be faked by a ten year old kid playing with a CGI program on his pad. I agree, there is little upside to telling them and a potential world of hurt.”
“This should change how we explore and we need to hammer out some rules of engagement,” Barak insisted. Everyone perked up, interested, because Barak wasn’t usually so forceful and given to asserting himself. He took their silence and attention for leave to continue.
“We just got the jump technology. I don’t think we should assume that means we’re ahead or behind in any other tech. Who knows how their history saw technology progress? We saw these particular aliens likely have better radar, it certainly was more powerful. Even there, that isn’t to say that we might not have better signal processing, especially if our computers compare favorably with theirs. Maybe their receivers are so crude they need more power.
“Until we know where we stand we need to be cautious. If we run into aliens again I’d propose our orders be to avoid contact or guiding them back here. We should get better sensors, passive and active, as fast as we can, and better weapons like April asked if it’s possible. Until then let’s be especially careful.”
“We should have charges to destroy our computers and drive tech if we are captured, better yet a charge to vaporize the whole ship,” Alice said.
Delores looked at her like she was a stranger. “Could you flip the switch?”
“Absolutely,” Alice assured her.
“Maybe program the computer to go ahead and activate it if we are all dead,” April suggested. “It’s triply redundant. I’d trust it not to do it in error.”
“At least make it a two person command,” Delores said. “There will be other ships and crews and you don’t want one unstable person decide to take everybody with them like some aircraft pilots have done.”
“That seems reasonable,” Barak agreed.
“Let’s all think this over and meet again in a week,” Heather said. “In particular I want us to decide if we should go out again before we have our lifeboat built and any of the other systems we discussed. It might be the course of wisdom to wait until we make these important upgrades before going back. They are major enough to impact survivability. If you want take the time as a paid break, fine. If you want other duties assigned to keep you busy tell Dakota you are available.”
After the crew left for some rest, Heather and Jeff gave April a surround hug, brought out wine and snacks, and made themselves comfortable on the sofa. They couldn’t keep April up that much longer than the other crew, and coffee was a bad idea.
“I’m surprised Barak was so assertive,” April said, “both tonight and in the ship. He’s been sort of willingly subordinate to the ladies because they are a little older and more experienced, but he’s expressing himself more and is not always automatically in agreement with them.”
“Kurt doesn’t seem domineering either,” Heather noted. “I thought there’d be some Alpha male stuff happening, but I don’t see it. Barak is getting some experience of his own and has some real basis to have his own opinions.”
“That’s why we shouldn’t have a fourth,” Jeff said, dead-pan serious, “it wouldn’t be fair to some poor fellow to have to live in my shadow.”
Nobody should speak like that who is ticklish, and they showed him why.
* * *
“Adam,” the shift supervisor, Gene, said, taking a seat beside his bench, “we aren’t going to have the same volume of artifacts to work with, because suit work is so difficult right now, with the illness. We’re going to send you back to Mars Base because you have an excellent history with logistics and supply. Their work necessarily has a physical component, and they desperately need the help. If things get back to normal I’ll try to get you back, because you’ve done very good work for us. You have the patience to take things apart thoughtfully instead of forcing them or cutting them open. This is no reflection on you or a demotion.”
“I’ve enjoyed the work, but it’s true, this bug has not hit me as bad as some of the others. I understand. Maybe we’ll see each other again in a year or two.” That was Adam speaking, inside agent 71 was doing cartwheels and shouting for joy.
“Thank you, you’ll take the rover back sometime mid-day tomorrow, after it unloads. If you want to, leave any notes on your objects in process. Add them to the files when you close today.” He got up and left, a bit stiff and visibly cramped.
* * *
The next morning The Three had a late quiet breakfast together. Heather’s housekeeper was so happy that she was humming, pleased to see Heather briefly enjoy a tiny snippet of private life instead of working all day with no break. Amy also was delighted to list a day without oatmeal on the corner of the kitchen bulletin board. It was a pleasure to cook a buffet of sausage eggs and waffles, with fruit salad and real orange juice instead of the boringly efficient cereal her daily window tally mocked. It was copied after the form, font and all, of an industrial notice declaring how many days a shop had without an injury accident.
Amy asked if she should plan on three for dinner and went off duty until the evening even happier when Heather agreed that would be fine. The woman would be Heather’s social secretary if she allowed it, and had already had to be told bluntly that her matchmaking services were not needed.
April was checking her messages that were piled up from her absence. She was eating breakfast slowly and talking to Heather and Jeff too, switching back and forth, making progress on everything, when her pad dinged at her. The others pads alerted them too, so it had to be important enough to get past all their filters.
April being the only one actively working her pad saw it was from Chen and routed it to the wall screen. Chen twitched a bit when they came on his pickup. The girls were decent but Jeff was sitting at the table bare-chested. He had on long boxers, but they weren’t visible to Chen, and he was a bit of a straight laced dear. Boxers were practically formal wear for Jeff at home.
Chen was with Papa-san. That was unusual. They worked together but normally Chen as their man would be the conduit for Papa-san’s work. Papa-san wouldn’t have cared if they were painted blue with gold glitter.
“You are aware the Sandman had an outbreak of disease on the way to Mars and the entire crew was in gastric distress?” Chen inquired.
“Yes, it’s a European operation. I assumed they had some third world hire running the galley, like a cheap cruise ship operation,” Jeff snipped.
The corners of Chen’s mouth twitched but he refused to smile. “Well, they made Mars, and the entire outpost has the same thing now. They aren’t able to contain it and have called for help, not withholding any of the details from the public. It’s a bacterial organism to blame.”
“They didn’t keep the sick crew in isolation?” Heather asked amazed. “Somebody did something stupid to let it get away from them!”
“Somebody did something not at all stupid but very evil,” Chen assured her. “They did keep the crew on the moon, but it would appear the cargo, the supplies the Sandman was carrying, were contaminated. If they realize that, the Martians still haven’t accused anyone of deliberately infecting them. They detailed the organism however and Tetsuo here,” he nodded at Papa-san, “was made aware of the particular strain of Helicobacter some years ago, in the course of other intelligence work. You describe it to them,” Chen invited, and leaned back.
“The particular strain of Helicobacter was developed in Russia as an area denial weapon,” Tetsuo explained. “It was deliberately gene altered to be antibiotic resistant, because the western countries against which it might be directed depend heavily on antibiotics, but the Russians, indeed even back as far as the Soviets, went more for bacteriophages for infection control.
“It’s rather persistent on surfaces and easily applied as an aerosol. It can be misted from drones and aircraft very efficiently. If say, you want to deny a small town to an enemy, contaminating it with this will ensure people there either leave, or if they stubbornly remain they won’t be very effective.”
“Well, if it is a known bioweapon, somebody will tell them shortly and their European agency will send the cure off to them, right?” April asked.
“I really doubt it,” Chen said, and Papa-san was shaking his head, agreeing with Chen. “They are in a state of rebellion. The agency was pressured to make this last supply run mostly because there are innocents stuck on Mars who were not associated with the rebellion. Indeed, one of the missions of this voyage was to return the majority of those who wished repatriated to Earth. I suspect they should have loaded and been on their way back before the Martians got into the supplies and got infected if things went by plan.”
“Neither is this the sort of thing anyone is going to want to admit they know about or possess,” Papa-san explained. “It’s one of many agents quite a few governments know about, and even have samples and the counter organism, but it would open a real can of worms and raise all sorts of uncomfortable questions to admit you know about it publicly. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the Europeans themselves who polluted the supplies to punish their rebellion. Likely the operation didn’t go quite the way it was planned. I’m no stranger to that happening.”
“So, what are you two suggesting?” Heather asked. “I doubt you called us to just impart this as interesting trivia and don’t have some course of action to suggest. Do you think we should inform the Martians of this? I’m not particularly fond of the Martians, neither are my partners. Rebellion is not always an improvement, and the Martians have done some of our own people dirty. Indeed, even if they were informed, could they get anyone to admit having the cure and provide it in a timely fashion?”
“No, the Sandman is returning with a reduced crew and none of their intended passengers, to reduce the burden on life support. In the European Union their return is being regarded by the public like a plague ship coming to port. There are already people asking to buy the Sandman since the Union has no use for it according to their thinking, and what they would intend to do with it isn’t at all clear. Even if they intend support for the Martians the base is basically in survival mode until they get relief,” Chen said.
“The vessel is so specialized, what else could they intend to use it for but to mount a relief expedition?” Jeff asked.
“One could plant another colony far away from the current one and leave them to their own devices,” Chen said. “I admit that wouldn’t be very popular with the public, but if they wait long enough some critical system will fail and there won’t be anyone to rescue. But we have no handle on all of that. We called because Tetsuo here is in possession of both the freeze dried organism and the bacteriophage.”
Papa-san held up two glass ampoules and smiled.
“Oh my God… I’m terrified to think of that being on Home,” April said. “If it got loose we’d be in the same boat as the Martians.”
“No indeed,” Papa-san objected, “we have the bacteriophage. Also the ampules are very high strength glass. You aren’t going to crack them open with a thumbnail. The procedure is to notch the neck with a diamond file and crack them open with long handled pliers.”
“Why do you even have such a thing?” April asked, and suddenly realized she sounded just like Delores objecting to her having a fusion weapon. “I don’t mean to sound so… disapproving, it just scares me.”
Papa-san spread his hands in a placating gesture. It didn’t have the desired result since it left the ampules dangling between his thumb and finger.
“Senior intelligence agents often have opportunity to acquire portable assets when they conduct an investigation. If one is collecting information on a new tank or aircraft you obviously can’t stuff a sample in your carry-on. But if you crack a diamond smuggling enterprise a number of fine uncut stones may jump in your pocket during the course of the investigation. Or if you are looking at electronic assets a few chips may be miscounted when you turn the samples in. They turn a blind eye to a certain level of acquisition. However I know of one colleague who had to be sternly reminded to turn in thirty kilograms of Plutonium he’d carelessly set aside when dealing with some terrorists. There are limits to it.”
“So you don’t have any interest in using them yourself?” Jeff asked. “You’d make them available to us if we wanted to apply a political solution to the crisis?”
“We don’t have the requisite transportation to utilize them,” Papa-san said. “You’ve always treated us very well when we conveyed information, whether requested or something we stumbled upon we knew would be of interest to you. Consider this to be covered under your generous retainer, and if it turns out to be particularly profitable, we’re sure you will share the benefits appropriately.”
“As I said, I don’t like the Martians,” April said, looking from Jeff to Heather. “Yet I’d hate to see the Earthies, whichever Earthies are the guilty parties, to think biowarfare is suddenly a permissible and effective way to deal with spacers. That’s not to say I’d gift them with a cure for their problem as a public service. This play is at a level between sovereign states, so I’d leave it to Heather to decide what to do.”
“I’d sell it to them,” Heather said bluntly, “if they had anything with which to pay. Trouble is they don’t produce much of anything but research and political propaganda. I don’t think they have even found any ore bodies to license us to mine. What could they offer we want?”
“They are claiming to be the only authority on the planet,” Jeff pointed out. “I suppose, if they are successful in that, they can offer land grants. You seem to have your hand in for real estate already,” he told Heather. “What would be a generous enough grant to let them continue their existence? We don’t know what we might find, but any patch of dirt with gravity has some value, doesn’t it?”
“If it isn’t near them,” Heather said. “I have no desire to be their neighbors.”
“They are near the equator,” Jeff reminded her. “Perhaps some territory near one of the poles? There is a seasonal deposit of volatiles there if nothing else.”
“You don’t want a patch opposite them on the equator to build a beanpole?”
“It might take some time, but I think that would put us in conflict eventually,” Jeff said. “I’d rather ask for everything down to the fiftieth parallel from a pole.”
“Just one pole?” Heather asked. “Even that is a vast territory. I have my doubts they would cede something like that.”
“I think two would be psychologically difficult for them,” Jeff said. “They’d feel surrounded. It seems little enough if their survival is in the balance. But we could negotiate. Or rather you could negotiate it. I don’t negotiate… well.”
The two spies seemed interested in the byplay, but stayed silent. Heather looked up at them and frowned. “Can those samples be increased to amounts that would serve the Martians in a reasonable time? And can you make sure we retain them for our own use, in case somebody should decide to use them against us?”
“There are two pharmaceutical companies on Home who have the facilities to make both vaccines and bacteriophages in short run batches,” Chen assured her. “Either or both should be able to make sufficient in a week to satisfy the Martians. If they have a production run for stock in process you might have to pay them a fee to dump that run to expedite yours. If they are tied up with all custom work against a deadline they may insist on meeting their contract no matter what you offer. Should I inquire?”
“Please do so, and start them working on it if possible,” I’d rather not approach the Martians until I have a hard deliver date,” Heather said. “If I must negotiate with the scum I want it to be from a position of strength with hard numbers to offer.”

Chapter 20
“Director Schober there is a video call for you on the Phobos link,” His secretary said. “I think you should take it.”
That was odd. Phil usually could decide whether to put a call through to him without any drama and discussion. He activated the screen and was faced with a young woman he didn’t recognize. It seemed to be a ship interior behind her.
“Director Schober, I’m Heather Anderson, the Sovereign of Central on the Moon. I am aware of the nature of the assault against your base, and wish to sell you information how to deal with it and a physical cure. Are you interested?”
“You aren’t speaking to me from the Moon,” Schober objected. “You are quite close to me if you expect to speak without a huge lag.”
“Of course I’m not. I do understand you are sick and may have difficulty focusing, but I said I’m from the Moon, not speaking from there. Do try to track,” Heather implored him. “We are loitering near Phobos in the vessel Dionysus’ Chariot, and using your own satellite com system to speak to you.” She didn’t mention the Hringhorni lurking nearby, with Jeff, Alice, and Barak keeping an over watch.
“I can deliver a cure for the illness you are all suffering within the hour if you are interested. It includes an explanation of all we know about its nature, origins, and history.
“I can’t really tell you who inflicted this upon you. We have a laundry list of people who might have done it, but I imagine you do too. Our list may be a bit bigger because we have some idea who has the means, where your list would be primarily everyone who you know you’ve pissed off.”
“How do we know you didn’t transmit this cursed thing to us to put us in this bargaining position?” Schober demanded.
“Now really, do stop and think a little,” Heather suggested. “We are going to offer a deal whose value to us depends on you being the only sovereign political entity on the planet. If you did not exist we would have a bare planet ripe to have claims made upon it. It would be much simpler, if less moral, to simply drop a single small missile on you and the planet would be uninhabited again. I can’t think how anybody could connect it to us, much less prove it. Or we could just wait until your supply situation and the failure of your environmental systems does the same thing and leaves some free infrastructure. I suppose the Europeans might claim an ownership interest, but do you doubt that the failure of your colony is a very likely outcome?”
Schober didn’t address that but asked. “What do you want for it?”
“I’m into real estate development. That’s the basis of my nation on the Moon. We’d like to allow you to convey a clear title to property around one of the poles. As far as I know one pole is pretty much the same as the other. You can pick which one for all I care. And if a pole turns out to have some unique value later you’ve retained one in your own possession as well as all the middle latitudes.
The pain in his guts was joined by one in his chest, and Schober put a flat hand over both, leaning forward a bit. Heather was briefly worried he was having a heart attack, and she precipitated it.
“Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back and discuss this with you further.” Schober retreated to his private restroom, relieved himself and washed his face with cold water. He took a small sip but was just as happy he was pretty much empty, and wanted to stay that way so he didn’t have to keep doing this. That would be a horrible position from which to negotiate.
“OK,” Schober said upon returning, “let’s talk time and numbers.”
* * *
Heather hit the key to disconnect and leaned back. Their negotiations had only lasted a half hour, she was exhausted, and so must Schober be too, if he was half as ill as he appeared.
“That’s all I think we could get,” Heather said. “I wonder if Chen and Papa-san will approve or think I wimped out?”
“A wet ink treaty, the entire southern polar cap down to the sixtieth parallel, and guaranteed non-interference in orbital access? I think it was like getting the Louisiana Purchase for an ounce Au,” April said. “And I have to agree I didn’t want you exposing yourself to sign, not even suited up out on the tarmac. There would be too many people and we wouldn’t have control of a mob scene.
“I think they already were using the workers waiting to go home as hostages, even if it wasn’t said explicitly, and they could do the same to you. Neither did I think we should have any part in the agreement that others might construe as our being an ally of these creeps. I’m sure they will do something that would make that an untenable position.”
“Set us down on their field,” Heather ordered Delores. “They have a man from supply coming out with our hard copy, and I’ll go swap the case with him.”
“I’ll go swap the stuff,” Delores said, “and you’ll stay strapped in ready to lift the ship if they pull some stupid crap. We don’t risk our sovereign, and it’s beneath your dignity. April can lift you from her board if I can’t get back.”
The Dionysus’ Chariot dropped on the field like falcon on a hare. If they expected a normal shuttle approach and intended any treachery it would be very difficult. The ship was at fourteen G decelerating until a kilometer from the ground. It took that long to spool down the gravity compensators.
Delores scrambled to get to the airlock and open both doors. She kicked out the ladder and went down hand over hand with the case hung around her neck. Their man was walking out to meet her with a thin attaché case. He didn’t seem to be armed and they both just walked until they met, neither trying to judge a halfway point or force the other to advance.
Delores held the case out and held her other hand open waiting for the documents. The man surprised her by setting the case on the pavement, and holding a single digit up imploring her to not turn away.
“I’m Adam Fallat, and I am a spy. I beg you for rescue. You are my only chance to escape. I’ll be killed now if you reject me since others will be listening on the suit frequencies. I have critical information about what has been happening here that is worth saving me. If you don’t take me with you I’m going to open my faceplate and commit suicide.”
“Come on then and run,” Delores decided on the instant. There would be armed men coming from the building soon if she stood around asking Heather what she should do on the radio. She dropped the Martian’s copy on the pavement and snatched up their case.
“Just lay down in the lock and I’ll lift us to a safe height before you come up to your couches,” April said.
Delores urged Adam up the ladder opened the case to make sure it wasn’t a bomb, slammed it shut and swarmed up the ladder after him catching up easily. When she turned around Adam was flat on his back. She unhooked the ladder and heaved it out the open port, rolled over and shouted “GO!” Before she was all the way flat the deck came up to meet her.
April kept it to a reasonable three Gs, but rolled and accelerated almost parallel to the ground. Looking out the open lock was disturbingly like a helicopter ride, except the ground was soon streaking past at a rate no helicopter could produce. April finally turned and climbed for altitude. It would be an interesting story to tell, if anybody believed it, but nothing she’d care to do again.
“OK, you have two minutes to get your butts in the acceleration couches,” April ordered, and cut the acceleration. Delores dragged Adam through the inner lock and manhandled him forward to the couch, slapping two belts across him before she went to forward to her own seat. He wasn’t exactly resisting her, but he was clumsy and not much help, like dressing a toddler.
“I know you’ve been in zero G before,” Delores barked at him angry. “Why didn’t you motivate to get your butt in your seat?”
“Madam, I tried. I’m quite sick. Just walking out to you was an effort, and the sprint to the ship took more than I thought I could give. I’m afraid I’ve had an accident in my suit a diaper won’t contain. I’m just trying very, very hard not to throw up too. The suits handle that even worse.”
“Why did they send you out if you were that sick?” Delores asked, but she was having a hard time staying angry.
“I’m better off than most and of course I needed to accept the assignment for my own survival. You have no idea how bad it is back there. I’m afraid I’m going to be a very bad traveling companion, unless you decide to push me out the lock.”
“We’ll be back before we have to let you out of the suit,” April said from beside him. He rolled his head over and looked at her, unbelieving. It was actually a nonsense statement to him he couldn’t process, since it couldn’t mean what he thought he heard. Then he looked out the forward ports and the Earth and Moon were there.
“Mon Dieu,” he said in a hushed voice.
* * *
“I have things to tell you,” Adam protested when they put him on the gurney.
“There’s nothing that can’t wait a day or three. Let them get you back on your feet,” April insisted. “They’ll tell me when you are well enough to have an extended conversation with me.”
“Just one quick thing then!” Adam asked, and raised an imploring hand. “In case I get worse or am silenced. We found a wreck. There are real aliens with starships and they are doing a secret archeological dig of an ancient alien ship wreck on Mars.”
“Adam, you are safe here. Nobody is going to silence you. These are Heather’s sworn people who will take care of you. Trust us,” April begged. “As far as aliens, we know. I saw an alien starship just last week at Virginis 61. And it wasn’t any dead wreck we had to dig up, it was big and cutting through the same star system we were in.”
Adam started laughing and could barely talk. “All the deceptions, they are doing it all for nothing. They think they’re protecting humanity from a shock that will shatter our beliefs, put our economy into a tail spin, and start wars. They’ve killed people to keep their secret.” He made a sweeping dismissive wave, “You just dispose of our terrible secrets as been there, done that. I should have figured that out the instant we were suddenly and impossibly back at Earth.”
“If you are done talking now I’d really like to administer the patient a mild sedative,” a concerned medic told April quietly. Not quietly enough.
“The patient would welcome that. Pump me full of all the happy juice you wish,” Adam invited, manic but exhausted.
“Just a little something to calm you, not knock you out,” he insisted. “I thank you for your consent.” Indeed the medic looked taken aback at such enthusiastic consent. As they wheeled him away April heard him start giggling again and wondered if she’d dumped too much information on him too soon. He’d been through an awful lot. She’d call tomorrow and ask after him if they didn’t call her.
When she turned around Delores was standing there waiting for her. April had no idea when she’d joined them.
“Heather seems to think I did the right thing, but I’m still concerned you may think I showed poor judgment. There wasn’t any time to think or talk about it with the rest of you. I probably took a hazard aboard, but it felt right to me.”
“If I thought you were a hundred percent wrong, and Heather says you did right, this is her operation as sovereign, it was a political operation and she called the shots,” April told her. “Fact is, I’ve had some doubts about your command style. You think differently than me, and I don’t feel I can predict what you will do. That tends to make me nervous, but I think your instincts were dead on the money to grab this guy. If you poll my friends, they’ll all tell you I have a serious rescue complex myself. So in this kind of thing I’d do exactly the same as you.”
“Same here,” Delores agreed, “you think differently than me. I’d have never said what you just did, so bluntly, except maybe to Alice in private, but thanks for your honesty.”
Delores turned away and April could tell she was tired just from the way she walked. Now that she’d stopped rolling and allowed herself to think about it, she was pretty whipped too. If she called a cart she’d just have to wait for it, so she started walking to Heather’s.
* * *
“Was this entire operation just a ploy to retrieve their spy?” Director Schober asked. “Can we trust this supposed bacteriophage now? What am I to do?” he asked, burying his face in his hands.
For the first time Safety Director Liggett really questioned his boss’ mental stability. That opinion had been creeping up on him for months. He was seeing bogeymen everywhere, and seemed right on the tipping point of cracking up. Logically, if whoever attacked them wanted them dead it would have been far easier just to use a much more lethal agent in the first place. If he was wrong and it was a poison of some sort, then at least he’d be out of his misery. He cleared his throat dramatically, but Schober didn’t look up…
“Sir, rather than wait for a lengthy and perhaps inconclusive analysis by the medical section, I volunteer to be treated with it. Either way we should know if it is effective or deadly pretty fast.”
Schober looked up with a display of genuine emotion that seemed foreign to his face. “Damn, you are a brave one, Liggett. Far braver and selfless than we should ever expect. I thank you. We thank you. Go on down to the clinic and let them keep you there to monitor closely after you are treated. It is appreciated and we’ll see you are rewarded.
“Or honored posthumously,” Liggett thought, but didn’t say it.
* * *
The next morning Vic packed their camp up and walked around obscuring any traces he could see to mark their use of the site. They followed a slightly different path out of the trees to the Woodleigh’s camp, where breakfast was already being cooked. Vic spoke quietly to the side with Arnold who was smiling and shaking his head no. But he didn’t hand back whatever Vic pressed in his hand. He gave a nod of thanks and Vic finally looked happy and made a little gesture for Eileen to join him by the fire where everyone was eating. She was pretty sure whatever changed hands was the price of their breakfast.
She could see even from the Woodleigh’s camp that some of the sellers from yesterday were gone, but there was also a few who came in late to replace them. In particular there was a big farm wagon with pneumatic tires, but the tow bar modified into a tongue to make it a horse drawn wagon. They had to have come in after dark, which was scary. Likely they came from relatively far away and had mistaken how long it would take to make it to the fair.
Perhaps not as scary for them as it would be for others, Eileen realized after looking closer. There was a man sitting in a lawnchair on the wagon with a rifle across the arms and a big curved magazine protruding from the bottom. Another man sat at ground level covering his back. A man was selling something directly off the back of the wagon, but at this distance Eileen couldn’t make out what. She knew Vic had compact binoculars, but didn’t want to make a conspicuous display of wealth by using them.
Somebody moved behind the seller, and Eileen saw it was a woman, so the seller had somebody covering his back too. What in the world could they be selling to require so much security? She saw it being handed off but it was just a brown blob this far away.
“After breakfast can we go see what they are selling off the wagon?” Eileen asked Vic. “They seem pretty concerned with security, so it must be high value.”
“I was over there already,” Arnold’s girl Pearl spoke up. “They have salt. They’re from over in Tehama County, and have a salt lick on their land. They aren’t as organized over there as we’ve managed, and don’t have a decent fair yet, so they came here to trade.”
“Do you know what they want in trade?” Eileen asked.
“I asked and they didn’t seem to want to say. They just asked, ‘What ya got?’ back at me,” Pearl said. “I find that kind of irritating.”
“Would you like to earn four rounds of .22 ammunition, payable when we return home, and you can’t talk about where you got them?” Vic asked.
“Sure! I mean, maybe. What do I have to do?” Pearl asked.
“It’s much better to curb your enthusiasm and get the terms before you agree,” Victor counseled her. Her dad behind her smiled at that. “I’d like you to walk around and ask people if they bought salt and what they traded for it.”
“They may be as tight lipped as the salt people,” Pearl worried.
“I’m paying for the effort, not a guaranteed result,” Vic clarified. “If you work through to the other side of the clearing and ask ten or fifteen people I’ll be satisfied. I’m sure it’s dear enough in price you can safely skip any family that looks really poor. That should cut down on your time and effort. I’d expect you back in well under an hour.”
Pearl glanced over her shoulder at her dad, who was poker faced. Since he wasn’t scowling or shaking his head no, she said, “It’s a deal,” and left to do it.
“Have a couple more hotcakes,” Arnold invited. “I cooked up all the batter and they won’t travel very well. Do you have any particular time you want to head back?” He looked at the sun nervously, because it was above the trees already.
“Why not wait and leave very early tomorrow?” Vic suggested. “We may get some bargains as people price stuff lower rather than have to cart it back home. It may even be safer.”
“How so,” Arnold asked.
“If any bandits are planning an ambush they will be waiting for everybody to leave today. Criminals are rarely patient. They aren’t going to want to sit for hours tomorrow waiting for some straggler to happen along.”
“OK, but we didn’t bring food for another day. I have lunch for on the way back, but it’s a long walk on an empty stomach,” Arnold complained.
“I’ll go buy something for at least supper and a hearty breakfast,” Vic offered.
“Then I have no objection,” Arnold allowed.
Pearl came and stood until they finished talking.
“Several people paid for their salt with hardware and fencing materials. One guy out our way agreed to let them come and strip all his barbed wire off his fencing because he doesn’t plan to keep cattle any more. They took copper pipe fittings and a bunch of mosquito netting. Looks to me like they want mostly metal,” Pearl said, “except they bought two chickens from the guy grilling them. And he is cooking his last four if you want to buy any of them,” she said hopefully.
“I’ll see what he wants, before I talk to the salt people,” Vic promised.
Four chickens were had for two silver dimes. Vic considered that a lot of people who were smart enough or lucky enough to survive The Day still lived mentally in a world of take it or leave it sticker prices and box store abundance, and hadn’t relearned haggling and negotiation yet. The chicken seller was turning his last chickens over a very low fire and declaring he wanted to start for home as soon as he sold them. He had no idea how desperate that made him sound and how any trader would then know to push to close a deal to put him on the road home like he wanted.
Another late seller had meal for sale and didn’t look happy. He had a big canister and it was still half full. “It’s Red Maid,” he explained to Vic. “You can use it like corn meal, but it has more oil than corn and is very filling. This is from last year’s seed but ground fresh just a couple days ago. It goes rancid if you try to store it long term after you grind it. We make a mush and fry it or do tortillas. People seem scared to try something new,” He said exasperated. “The Indians ate it, and it kept us alive over the winter.” A few nails bought at least a half kilo of it.
“If you have the seed instead of the meal, I’ll buy about half the volume as what you have here in the fall,” Vic promised. “Do you have something in particular you want to get for them?”
“Anything sweet, for a live pig I’d give you twice that amount. Accurate weights or the chance to sort out river rocks to copy your set of weights. Copper tubing, any metal containers like beer kegs or a small lined drum. Plastic bins and glass bottles. They don’t have to have a cap.”
“So a year from now you’ll have moonshine?” Vic asked.
“If everything comes together,” the fellow nodded.
Moving on to the salt people Vic suddenly stopped and looked at a bunch of tools laid out on a tarp. Eileen couldn’t figure why he’d want it, but he got a hard tapered pin about a hundred and fifty millimeters long and about the diameter of a turkey baster on the big end. It looked like something an iron worker might use.
The salt people refused the most part of Vic’s large nails for two kilo of salt. He didn’t counter offer, just walked away. It wasn’t until later a young man wandered through the thinning crowds and spied Vic with a sack in his hands.
“You the fellow who offered us forty nails for two kilo?” he asked.
“Yep, but that was this morning. It’s thirty nails now,” Vic said. “Wait until the sun goes down and it’ll be twenty.”
The fellow looked angry, but he controlled himself. “I wasn’t given authority to bargain.” He didn’t bother to introduce himself either.
“Then they should have come themselves,” Vic said, but careful to keep his voice soft and his face neutral. He wasn’t looking to pick a fight.
“You’re right,” the guy said, with a look which told Vic it wasn’t all happiness and light among the salt cartel. “I’ll take it, and if he doesn’t like it he can march around and run people down.”
After he walked away, Eileen spoke up. “If there was any way to get a really large quantity of salt I could make good use of it. Come the fall people are going to want salt to pickle stuff and salt meat for over the winter. These guys will know that and charge an arm and a leg.”
“I could try to arrange a pre-sale,” Vic proposed. “They might not be thinking that far ahead or aware yet how much the fall will pump demand. Do you know how to pickle and cure meat? I only have a vague idea it can be done, but I’d hate to lose a bunch of food experimenting.”
“I’m sure I can salt meat. Pickling stuff may depend on if we can get good jars. I may even be able to make fermented sausage and age it if you can shoot a deer or something and be willing to take a chance on it working.”
“Oh, there’s a ton of canning jars out in the old spring house,” Vic said. “I never thought to mention it to you. That’s older than the house. It’s from the first house that burned down clear back around 1920. That’s the mound all grown up with brush about a hundred meters west of the present house.”
Eileen didn’t say anything, but Vic could tell she was exasperated with him.
“Pearl, would you please run and tell Mr. Mast I’d like him to come by and talk to me? Make sure to do it privately and you can tell him I have reason not to want to be seen going to him.”
“Is this a paid errand again?” Pearl asked.
Her dad looked up, irritated. “It’s paid by your supper,” he snapped. “When is the last time you had chicken?”
“Sorry,” Pearl said, and took off like a shot before her dad worked himself up to thinking of a punishment.

Chapter 21
“Well you certainly look better,” Schober said.
“Much more than just look better,” Liggett assured him. “I had sausage and eggs with biscuits for breakfast a couple hours ago and feel marvelous.”
Schober closed his eyes and cupped his hand over his clutched mouth trying not to think of the smell of greasy sausage, which was like trying not to think of yellow on command. That of course was all that filled his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Liggett said, the memory of how he’d felt the same two days ago as difficult to remember as a toothache. “Anyway it is remarkable after just two days of treatment. Ed Kearney who looked like he was at death’s door is sitting up and taking some soup and declaring he might want to live, conditionally. Dr. Manson joked that if my ears don’t fall off by the end of a week he’ll authorize it for everybody.”
“A week be damned,” Schober said. “I bet he’s taking it already. I’m going down to his sterile little clinic and if he doesn’t treat me on the spot I’ll have them dump him a two hour march in the desert with an hour and three quarters of air.”
* * *
Pearl returned pretty quickly and sat by the fire again. All Vic got was a short nod and a satisfied look to know John Mast was coming.
They were sipping a homemade tea the Woodleigh’s made. He had no idea what was in it, but it tasted better than hot water.
Mr. Mast when he came looked like he was going to walk past, then changed direction and came over by the fire.
“You got any more of that? It’s getting cool. I could use a good mug of fine Columbian coffee,” Mast allowed.
“If this bunch smelled real coffee you’d have a riot on your hands,” Vic said.
“Ain’t that the truth. You want to talk here or walk off a ways?”
“Here so nobody thinks we’re skulking off to conspire,” Vic said. “Everybody here is tight with me and I don’t care what they hear.
“Fine, conspire away,” Mast invited.
“I’d like to buy futures on that family’s salt production. Eileen here has all kinds of uses for it, but I’m scared to tell the world we can afford to buy it. You can make a bit being a broker and maybe a warehouse man to enable the transaction. I’d like to offer two hundred rounds of mixed brand .22 ammo in exchange for two hundred kilograms of salt for fall festival delivery. Are you interested?”
“What’s my cut if we do a deal?” Mast asked.
“Five percent of either side, ten kilos of salt or ten rounds of long rifle,” Vic offered. “Or mix ‘em, five kilo and five rounds.” Vic couldn’t see, but Eileen saw Pearl trying to keep a blank face, but she was reappraising how much her four cartridges were worth after hearing this negotiation.
“That’s a lot of salt,” Mast said.
“Their salt spring will be bubbling away for years. It was probably here before the Indians. When do you think we’re going to get new shipments of rifle ammo into the contested autonomous territories? Especially now that Texas is telling North America to keep their hands off us?”
“Probably never, we’ll have to manufacture our own,” Mast admitted. “Any leeway built into those numbers or delivery?”
“They can split it, half in the fall, and half next spring. I’ll deliver the rounds to you for safekeeping at the start of the fall festival if they agree,” Vic said.
“I don’t want to come back here. I’m going to go talk to a couple other people packing up to leave and then the salt sellers. They’re the Burks incidentally. They aren’t the friendliest but they had to tell me who they were if they wanted to stay. You send Pearl back around in about a half hour and I’ll walk along with her and tell her if it is a deal or no.”
“Sounds good to me,” Vic said.
“That’s some nasty stuff,” Mast said, sitting the cup down by the fire. Vic hadn’t even seen him take a sip.
“Go check with Mr. Mast,” her dad told her about forty minutes later. She didn’t make any remarks about being paid this time.
They had the chicken over the fire heating it up gently when she returned.
“He says you’ve got a deal and they want to split the delivery,” Pearl said.
* * *
“You look terrified,” April said. “I assure you, we’re not going to put you against the wall and shoot you after going to the trouble to rescue you. Would it make it easier if it wasn’t all three of us? We’re equal partners and all interested to hear your story. If it’s too much still after all you’ve been through you can have a few more days to recover.”
Adam was leaning on the table between them like he needed the support, although the medics had cleared him to be interviewed.
“It won’t be any easier then than now,” Adam said. “I really was ready to flip my faceplate open and die back on the tarmac on Mars. But now that I’m not in the Martians’ hands I find I want to live again.”
“Fine, it never occurred to me to put you under a suicide watch,” April said. “I’m glad you came to that decision. I assumed it was a threat only made due to the extremis in which you found yourself on Mars, and once we removed you, I just as easily assumed it was past. I admit I have no psych background, although I’m starting to think I should study it just to try to understand my own screwed up thinking. Do you need counseling? I’m not sure if any of our medical people have the training, but I’m sure we could send you to Home and find someone qualified to help you.”
“You’d risk sending me to Home?” Adam asked surprised.
“I know the Earthies paint us as monsters,” April said, a little irritated, “but both Central and Home are very safe with low crime and the idea we have duelists lined up every morning waiting their turn to use the public corridor are grossly exaggerated. You’d be safer there than most mid-sized Earthie cities. Even if you don’t know the local customs people are surprisingly patient and willing to overlook Earth Think among recent arrivals.”
“We are talking past each other,” Adam decided. “It sounds like we are talking about the same thing but we’re not. It’s like we are on two different frequencies.” He held up his index fingers and waggled one fast and one slow to illustrate the point. April stared fascinated. It just looked unnatural and she had to try it herself. She couldn’t do it. She looked at him baffled, but refused to ask how one did that. It must be like wiggling your ears or rolling your tongue in a tube, an innate skill, not learned.
“What I’m trying to say… ” Adam struggled to be blunt enough, which was against his nature, “is I never expected to be set free after you let me see what your ship can do, and talked about star travel.”
“You know, we were really worried about that at first,” Heather admitted. “Now, we sort of figure they wouldn’t believe us if we called a big press conference and formally announced it.”
Adam looked at them all like they were insane.
“They don’t believe James Weir jumped out,” Jeff told him, as if that made the point obvious.
“Well, I read the news too,” Adam said. “There seems considerable doubt about it, according to all the news reports.”
They all cracked up, since he had just reinforced their point.
“I take it you don’t agree?” Adam asked, a little offended at the laughter.
“I met the man,” Jeff said. “He had a firm grasp of the science. He absolutely did take a ship out and disappear. We understand the local traffic procedures and radar coverage. It couldn’t be faked. Besides, we had our own spy drone in position to see his transition and observed the characteristic radiation burst when he exited the Solar System.”
“You met him? Did he say where he intended to go?” Adam asked.
“He was scrupulous in guarding his business secrets, and was only willing to discuss the theoretical underpinnings of his venture, nothing about the practical aspects of his hardware or his business plan. But his company announced the Centauri system as their goal. From a practical viewpoint that was the only rational target, and that was the direction he was headed when he went >poof<.”
“Maybe he’s out there and couldn’t get back,” Adam speculated.
“Nah, we went there pretty quickly when he didn’t return, looked and swept all around, with a good dish on a decent radio system, and didn’t hear a peep.”
“I’m, not sure you aren’t putting me on,” Adam worried.
“You feel that way even after seeing us bring you back to the Moon from Mars in minutes?” Jeff asked. “And yet you wonder that we doubt we could convince the majority of the great unwashed back on the Slum Ball? How do you explain to to yourself what you experienced? Don’t you believe your own eyes?”
Adam looked a little panicky. “I suppose you might have drugged me.”
“Now you’ve really grasping at straws. Or we might have stuffed you in our secret time stasis box for the long voyage back, because nobody in their right mind wanted to crack your suit open in Dionysus’ Chariot’s tiny cabin. You believed it when you saw it happen, and now you are working hard to convince yourself otherwise. Admit it. You are conditioned to believe the garbage they present as news.”
“I’m… conditioned to believe I’ll be punished if I contradict them out loud.”
“Close enough,” Jeff agreed. “If you can say that much, we’re well on our way to breaking your dependencies.”
“It works both ways, you know,” Heather said. “If they embrace the lie as policy and convince the public of it, then they are stuck with it, even if they know better themselves. They going to find it very difficult to abandon or repudiate it later when it becomes inconvenient or unsustainable. Putting the best face possible on it, they may be doing good to merely look like they were idiots later, instead of lying psychopaths.”
“You’re convincing me. So you’re not going to dispose of me after interrogating me? What do I have to do to earn this kindness?”
“One would think you’d talk to us out of gratitude,” April said. “You certainly seemed eager to get off of Mars out on the field. I was under the impression we saved your butt. You’re starting to sound like we kidnapped you. I was listening to you talk to Delores on the field, you know. It didn’t escape me that you asked for rescue, not asylum. Well you have your rescue. If you want asylum you’ll have to ask Heather for it, and do not assume it will be granted automatically.”
“You’re right. I do owe you for my rescue. Yet, there are some things I can’t tell you and have any chance of returning to my former life.”
“You mean, return to your work for French intelligence?” Heather asked.
Adam sucked in a horrified gasp, and looked like he wanted to bolt.
“I’m starting to doubt there’s anything I can tell you don’t already know.”
“Then consider it our desire to confirm those facts with you,” Jeff invited.
“What are you interested in?” Adam asked.
“You could describe the work on this alien vessel, and anything interesting they’ve found out about its systems,” Jeff suggested. “We really don’t care about whom you work for as a spy in any detail, or their internals. We have our own intelligence people and they have more than sufficient experience and connections. We don’t get aggressive trying to counter other agencies unless they reach out to touch us in our own territory. We three don’t try to manage our own at what they know better. If we intended to treat you badly they would be questioning you, not us.”
Adam nodded to acknowledge he got the full message in that statement.
“I’d like to know how the Mars base is run from an insider’s perspective,” Heather asked. “Who are the dominant personalities? How do they keep power?”
“My grandfather was there recently and they tried to kill him, tried multiple times actually. I’d like to know if you saw or suspect that with others,” April said.
“May I bargain with those answers for at least a degree of freedom?”
“Let’s get past that,” Heather said, brow furrowed and righteously irritated. “Here, you are funded.” She leaned forward and slapped down both a platinum and gold Solar on the table in front of Adam with a crack.
“You can walk out the door there and just about anybody can tell you how to get on a bus to Armstrong or Marseille. Take it and go right now if you wish, and be damned for all your gratitude. You are then rid of us, but we are rid of you, which is looking more attractive the longer you whine and expect bad of us. But,” Heather warned, raising a digit to make the point, “you forfeit any other help we might offer you too. Just be aware, like we were discussing, it might not be wise of you to publicly contradict the official narrative on either James Weir or us. You might judge it safe to tell the truth to some of your own people in private, but that’s at your own risk to judge who will give you an honest hearing.”
“Two little coins?” Adam asked. It didn’t make any more sense than the rest.
“They’re Solars, twenty five grams of pure platinum or gold. How much do you think that is worth in depreciating EuroMarks?” Heather asked.
“More than I ever expected to hold on one hand,” Adam admitted, after he picked them up and weighed them on his palm. “I never held gold before.” He looked over his shoulder at the door, and laid the coins back on the table, lining them up carefully side to side, like somebody with a compulsive disorder. He simply started talking without saying why he decided to do so.
“At the site, since I’m not skilled at suit work,” he started, “I had a bench and they brought loose artifacts and systems cut out of the wreck for me to disassemble and evaluate… ”
They made coffee and shared it with him, and Jeff went away and brought sandwiches back and sat the tray between them, but they didn’t declare any sort of an intermission, not wanting to stop the flow once he started.
It was three hours before he said: “And my supervisor came in and jammed a photo under my nose abruptly to surprise me. He held it so close I had to lean back to focus on it. It was a fellow I’d seen around but he wanted to know if I knew him. I didn’t, but thinking on it later he must have become a security issue. Perhaps he was another spy I don’t know about, who was trying to find out why I had disappeared. I bet if you went looking for him he has disappeared much more thoroughly than me. And that’s about everything I know. I might think of some unimportant trivia over the next few days, but that’s the bulk of it.”
“That’s sufficient,” Heather allowed. “We don’t intend to keep trying to wring every last detail out of you. We don’t have the time ourselves and I believe we have a good enough picture of what’s happening.”
“They’d have put the cap on me,” Adam said. “I’m kind of surprised now that they didn’t when they showed me the photo of that fellow.”
“Veracity software is more than sufficient to our needs,” Heather said, and didn’t politely pretend they wouldn’t run it over their recording.
“Do you want to be given a guest room for the night?” Heather asked. “I’d imagine you are pretty tired.”
Adam blinked and looked spacey. “What would the other choices be?” he asked, but he wasn’t insinuating they intended anything threatening this time. He was just honestly too tired to process the idea he had other options.
“I meant it when I said you were free to leave, but you don’t look like you could stay awake to get very far,” Heather suggested.
“Yeah,” Adam agreed, and blinked once slowly while he processed the idea. “Please, a room, and somebody to help me when I wake up and show me where to go for breakfast.”
“Dakota, I need you,” Heather called to the house system. “My aide will walk you to the housing,” Heather told Adam. “It’s not far. Just tell the room computer to call her back for you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Adam said, and looked like he might face plant on the table, but Dakota was right there from the other room and he pushed himself vertical.
When he started to turn away Heather scowled at him and said, “Hey!”
He looked back clueless and she pointed at the coins, still irritated and indicated he should take them with a shooing motion. He nodded thanks, speechless and took then in his hand to follow Dakota. Apparently he didn’t want to trust them to his pocket.
“How did you know he was with the French?” April demanded when he was gone. “Did you get intelligence you never got around to sharing?”
Heather shrugged. “I guessed and bluffed. There were little things. He was so shocked when we jumped from Mars, and the Earth and Moon just appeared in front of us he said, ‘Mon Dieu’, not My God. I doubt if you asked if he’d remember, since he was still pretty sick. And his accent, he still has soft vowels and holds them just slightly. I have an ear for that after dealing with the people from Marseille. Even little things like how he sat. I was pretty sure it would rattle him enough, if I was right, to get him to talk. If not he’d either clam up or try to convince us I was wrong, which could have been beneficial too.”
“What do you think he’ll do tomorrow?” April asked.
“I’d give you good odds he’s going to go home. He has that compliant sort of personality. I don’t think he’d be very happy here,” Heather said.
April thought about it, and nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“But, I’m not sure they will make him welcome at home,” Heather added.
When the women looked at Jeff he started. “Don’t be looking at me like I should have an opinion. If I wanted to know what motivates people I’d ask you.”
* * *
“Fallat knew everything that mattered,” Director Schober told Liggett. “Not the exact location, but once they know what they are looking for it can’t be hidden from anyone in orbit. They can blow this wide open now.”
“It would be very much against their interests to do so, Director.”
“I’m just too tired to think straight. Tell me in easy small words, because I’d be happy to agree with you if you can persuade me,” Schober said.
“What will happen if this Moon Queen tells everyone what we’re sitting on?”
“Well, I expect the Union would give up trying to maintain a kinder and gentler public image and send a frankly military expedition to depose us and take over the excavation of the wreck. They would probably have visions of all sorts of priceless technology just pouring out of the wreck. If we told them all we’ve gotten is a novel linear motor and an improved electrical connector I doubt they would believe us,” Schober said.
“And if the European Union sent a joint expedition and seized our base and negated our territorial claim of the planet, what would happen to our agreement with Central?”
For the first time Schober’s face showed a hint of hope. “They’d immediately repudiate it, wouldn’t they? Maybe she will keep her mouth shut.”
“I really think so,” Liggett insisted. “Perhaps in the future their claims on the polar region will stand on the basis of their own use or occupation of it, but right now it has no validity except from our power to grant it.”
“You are persuading me. I’ve tried to think of how they have shown up so quickly. Ever crazy possibility ran through my mind. I thought perhaps they already had a secret base at some location on one of the poles, but then they offered to let us pick which one they’d take. I can’t believe they have a secret presence on both poles and were willing to give one up. Then they delivered the bacteriophage. That had to be from Earth. To think they had it here would mean they were conspiring with the Europeans. Brussels would sooner conclude a pact with the Devil than even talk to Central or Home.
“Then there was the nonsense the moon personnel told us about Lewis being picked up by an armed ship, and we got an impossible message from him soon after that purported he was on the Moon.
“It even occurred to me that Central might be in contact with our aliens, being used by them stop Humans from examining their wreck.”
Liggett forced himself not to say anything. Schober was going off the rails with that, concocting crazy conspiracy theories. There wasn’t any way to politely address that without calling his sanity into question.
“But unless they turn against us, everything they have done has enabled us instead of hindering us. The only conclusion I keep coming back to is they have a very fast space drive.
“Now, if it is fast enough to be a star drive is separate question. But it looks like they have a big secret of their own to keep. It may be a lever we can use.”
“They have to come and go from the other end,” Liggett reasoned. “I can’t imagine somebody in the Earth-Moon system doesn’t see evidence of it. But let me point out that the news services have make it perfectly clear the party line is that the star capable ship James Weir claimed to have was a fraud. To admit Central has such a thing so soon would immediately cast doubt on Weir being humbug. I really doubt they want to go there.
“So you think Weir really did have something like he claimed?”
“They’ve mocked it to the point that they do protest too much,” Liggett insisted. “I’m compelled to believe this is one of those things known between governments none of them will admit to their own people.”
“Then one has to wonder, if our supporters don’t get the Sandman bought, or a replacement built, could the Loonies be hired again to transport something critically needed on their super-ship?” Schober mused.
“I’m sure they could, if you are willing to barter off the other polar region,” Liggett said. “I didn’t hear any pledges of solidarity or proclamations of joint revolutionary fervor. Think they are a pretty hard mercenary bunch.”
“Yes, I got the sense their queen really didn’t like us, and I have no idea why.”

Chapter 22
That evening, after deciding to stay over until an extra night, Vic quietly consulted with Arnold and he informed Eileen they would stay in camp with the Woodleighs, but sleep out by the fire. There weren’t many staying over after the fair and festival was finished, but that wasn’t a problem with Mr. Mast. He wasn’t urging anyone to vacate.
It wasn’t near as comfortable on the ground as sleeping in a hammock. They wore their jackets and boots and folded both space blanket and rain flies around them. The hammock was draped over it all but not under them at all. Vic made just one trip to get evergreen boughs for cushioning, but the yard was well established with grass and groomed of any rocks long ago. If it wasn’t luxury it wasn’t that hard to fall asleep once they rolled up in the coverings and some body heat built up.
Vic eased out of their wrappings to feed the fire once, but Eileen barely remembered it. What did wake her and the rest of their party was the salt sellers packing up and leaving so early they had to use a lantern to hitch their horses. It was so early the sky was barely discernible as different from the dark woods below it. The lantern carrier walked around at the last, looking down making sure they didn’t leave anything.
When they got far enough away that the low mutter of voices, rustle of tack, and clatter of hooves faded to nothing everybody got a little more sleep. When they did get up the sky was bright, the day had color to it, and they packed and moved out with dispatch.
“That was rude to wake everybody leaving so early,” Eileen said, after she finished her breakfast on the road, walking.
“I didn’t appreciate it,” Vic said, “but I’d never say so to them since they got in so late coming to the festival. They probably don’t want to repeat that late arrival back home, and the trip might be more uphill going back than coming.”
This was why Vic was easy to live with so far. He wasn’t excitable and had the ability to consider other possible viewpoints. So far it very different that her own argumentative family. She was learning she didn’t need to be as automatically defensive as she’d learned to be growing up.
Vic kept pace with the Woodleighs, but let them stay far enough ahead he’d have to raise his voice to get their attention. Eileen noticed he always walked on the edge of the road, but switched sides from time to time. With a little thought she could see he was anticipating possible ambushes and favoring the side that would offer the best cover. A couple times Vic fell back, but never let their friends get out of sight around a curve.
It was around just such a long sweeping curve that Vic stopped suddenly. Up ahead, Arnold was also stopped on the outside edge of the curve, but not seeking cover or backing up. He was holding an arm out with his palm showing back at Vic. They moved slightly off the road into the edge of the brush and Arnold gave Vic a come along gesture, but without any urgency.
Vic crossed over to the inside edge of the curve and pulled his carbine up at the ready with both hands on it. Eileen figured out whatever Arnold saw ahead they would be hidden longer from its view coming up on the inside. There was a hill on their side but not steep and not all that much in the way of concealment.
“Stick your left fingers inside my waist band at the hip and let me lead you,” Vic said. “I want you to keep watching the hillside and look behind us, even on the other side of the road every little bit,” he instructed. “I’m taking the strap loose from my rifle, if I should get shot and go down grab it when you run.”
“What about you?” Eileen asked.
“Think you can throw me over your shoulders and carry me down the road to join Arnold?” Vic asked.
“No way in hell. There isn’t enough adrenaline in the world,” Eileen said.
“Thank you for being sensible,” Vic said.
When they got up even with the Woodleighs they could see why they stopped. There was something on the shoulder ahead. It looked like the salt sellers wagon, but it was tilted crooked away from them and there were neither horses nor people there. The road was starting a long straight section here and the road beyond the wagon was empty for as far as they could see.
Arnold came across to them and his family stayed put. “What do you want to do?” he asked Vic. “All of us go around the other side of the hill and come back to the road further on?”
Vic thought on it before he said, “No, I want to know what happened there. I’ll go up the hill until I’ll lose sight of the wagon if I go any further, then work around and come back down beyond the wagon and come back to it. If you see me make it back to the wagon without any trouble then come on and join me. I also want to leave Eileen here with you if that’s OK.”
“All right, I’m going to move them off the road a little further and stay where I can see both the wagon and them,” Arnold said. “Stop and look around every now and then and don’t get winded,” he advised Vic.
Vic nodded agreement and looked back at Eileen. “I’m leaving this with you. You’ll only have to bring it forward to the wagon.” He undid the belt and left the fanny pack behind.
Eileen found a rocky area and sat on the fanny pack. They stayed in sight of Arnold, but not the wagon. The Woodleigh women pulled a blanket out of their gear and sat on it doubled over to avoid ticks. It was a long time before Arnold gave a short whistle and motioned them to come.
Vic was visible until they were all on the road and then he walked over by the wagon and must have squatted down out of sight. When they covered about half the distance to the wagon Eileen could see something odd sticking in the air beside it. She knew it was no local plant but wasn’t sure what it was. When they got within about fifty meters it suddenly resolved and she felt sick. It was three slender trees with their branches trimmed, stuck in the ground in a row and a head impaled on each.
“Well isn’t that artistic?” Arnold said when they were close to Vic.
“I think they were trying to leave a message for other would be bandits,” Vic suggested. “I wouldn’t do it myself, but neither am I disposed to undo it and clean up after them.”
That made Eileen really look, which she’d been avoiding since she recognized what they were from afar. None of the heads were the salt sellers. That only made her feel a little better. At least she didn’t know these people.
“Where are the bodies?” Arnold asked.
“One is dragged into the brush on the other side of the wagon,” Vic said. The other two the same, but down the road about a hundred meters. They were all stripped of weapons and anything of value.”
“Shouldn’t we at least bury them?” Mrs. Woodleigh asked.
“My dear, even if we had a pick and a couple shovels it would be an all day job in this ground. I do not want us to have to camp here tonight and walk home on some jerky and not enough water tomorrow,” Arnold said.
“I imagine that’s how the salt sellers felt too,” Vic said.
“I’m not understanding what I’m seeing here,” Eileen admitted, waving her hand at the wrecked wagon.
The wagon was missing the entire rear, at least a third of it, maybe a full half gone, not busted off like a wreck but sawed off neatly, a fresh cut obvious. There was one wheel with a flat tire still on the front. The other side of the front axle was bare of any wheel and on the ground. The tongue of the wagon was just gone. There was another wheel with a flat tire on the ground behind the wagon.
“I thought about it, waiting for you to catch up,” Vic said. “I think I can picture what happened. They got ambushed with a shooter on the uphill side. The bandit up there shot out both tires on their side. That was stupid as the people in the wagon could shoot. They should have shot them first and not tried to disable the wagon. I suspect the guy in the middle was the uphill shooter and firing from cover, except he was sticking his head up enough to aim.”
Eileen looked, and the middle head on a pole had a single small black hole drilled in the forehead.
“The other two were on each side up ahead to engage them in case they managed to keep moving even if the shooter only got one tire. They had concealment but not cover, and I’d bet anything they came charging down the road aggressively as soon as they heard the first shot. I could see where they were shot on the pavement down there,” Vic said, gesturing with his thumb. “The front of the wagon has some thirty caliber holes like they did a spray and pray with a full auto weapon, something like an AK. The idiots probably thought that gave them an overwhelming advantage. If they hit any of the salt sellers there’s no blood on the wagon seat or what’s left of the bed.”
“But why is the wagon cut in half?” Eileen insisted, seeking more.
“I’m thinking even if they had a spare tire they didn’t have two, and neither of those two shot flat was repairable. I’d say they took the good wheel and tire off the front, put it on the back axle and made a two wheel cart out of it. They obviously had a good saw, so they must have had tools and stuff to attach the tongue to the bed of the wagon. Whatever tools and goods they had, they managed to take it all with them. I’m a little surprised they didn’t manage to take the whole forecarriage with them. It would be valuable to build a new wagon. You’d have to load a two wheel cart carefully to balance slightly forward, and they probably just had the driver on the cart and the others will have to walk now.”
“Sitting in his lawn chair,” Eileen said, remembering seeing it.
“Yes, very likely,” Arnold agreed.
“Let’s not waste any more time here,” Vic said, taking his fanny pack back from Eileen and buckling it on. They resumed their long walk.
“I hope they can fulfill their contract with us for future delivery now that their transportation is wrecked,” Eileen said.
“I’m not too worried about it,” Vic said. “These folks seem very versatile and I think they will be back if they have to build a wagon from scratch.”
“Maybe armored up with solid wheels. I believe they call that a war wagon.” Arnold frowned. “Where do I remember that from?”
* * *
Markus, head of CoPO was known for his icy demeanor. Paul had never seen such a naked flare of emotion across the man’s face. It didn’t fade away either, he was clearly enraged.
“There’s no way the Martians boot-strapped themselves out of this. They don’t have the equipment, they couldn’t have the feedstock, and they had neither the data nor the skill set in any of their personnel. Somebody saved them and it had to come from Earth,” Markus insisted.
“There wasn’t time to get help from Earth,” Paul insisted.
Markus looked like he wanted to say something, but clutched his jaw shut before the words could escape.
“For a spy you are a terrible liar,” Paul said, surprising himself at his audacity to speak that way to his boss given his mood.
Far from stroking his anger it dismayed him. “I never said anything!”
Paul couldn’t hide a genuine grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody say nothing so loudly. Obviously, you know time is not the problem. If I don’t have need to know fine, but take me off the case and run it yourself, or find somebody you trust to run it for you.”
“This isn’t the sort of thing you want to keep bringing people in. It’s far too sensitive and every player you read into it increases the chance it will be blown wide open.”
Paul just looked at him. He hadn’t really said anything with which to argue.
“OK, so it’s relative to the operation, at least it’s likely to be relative,” Markus admitted. “There have been some reports of at least one person being on Mars and then on the Moon in impossible time frames. Also, there are radio intercepts of traffic clearance and returns with no destination declared and a vessel heading off on one vector and returning from a different direction and velocity that are just impossible. Some of the controllers are even harassing the pilots when they give them clearance because it’s obvious something fishy is going on.”
“That’s all fine and good,” Paul agreed, “but you said they had to have gotten help from Earth, not the Moon. Now, I realize there are a fair number of nations that might be holding this agent and the counter measures. In fact it’s probably so common none of the larger states would consider using it aggressively, because it is so well known it could be countered quickly, on Earth.
“But it was developed and spread about and relegated to a near obsolete novelty status all well before Home or Central were ever established. I’ve never heard of either maintaining any kind of biological warfare programs. In fact they have no remote areas to isolate such a lab, unless they had a separate facility on which workers would stay in long term isolation. Anything else would be incredibly dangerous and stupid in my opinion.
“So even if they do have some sort of transportation to overcome the time factor, why would they have stock of the agent or its counter? It strains credulity to think they remotely ascertained the nature of the infection, found a source for the counter among the few Earth nations that might even be willing to talk to them about it, obtain enough doses for approximately two hundred people and successfully transport it all within the time frame we saw?”
“I know,” Markus agreed, spreading his hands in dismay. “I have nobody to accuse who might have both the agent and any way to transport it. I don’t know why they would want to help them. Sure they are all spacers, but that’s as simplistic as calling us and Argentines all Earthies. Surely it’s obvious to even other spacers that the Martians are flaming nutbars?”
Paul nodded, as thoroughly mystified by it as Markus. “I don’t see any way to counter their recovery, no matter who engineered its defeat. It makes it that much more dangerous to try a similar action again. People will be watching. The best thing right now would be to keep our mouths shut and let it blow over. The longer it goes without being in the news the less chance somebody will demand a big investigation. I suspect in a few months or years their motives for helping the Martians will appear.”
It was only the next day.
* * *
The sovereign of Central wishes to announce that on the basis of a purchase agreement, the Martian government at Pavonis Mons has ceded the south polar region of Mars to the sixtieth parallel in perpetuity to the Kingdom of Central for one Solar and other valuable considerations. The documents are available in facsimile to parties having a direct interest. Although a matter between sovereign governments, no other relationship, obligation or assumption of duty or treaty is implied. Central announces this as a public notification it intends to use and occupy this region and exclude others. To this end we will be putting a satellite in Mars polar orbit well outside the orbits of its natural moons.
* * *
“Well, now we have a motive,” Markus said, and sent the release to Paul.
* * *
“I know I said satellite, but I want a rock not a structure,” Heather explained. “It should be a little bigger than Phobos. If we aren’t an inferior state I don’t think we should have an inferior moon. I can tell from your face you think that’s silly, but I know how people think, and it matters.”
“Have you given any thought how we can move a rock that big into Mars orbit?” Jeff asked.
“No, but I figure if we don’t keep asking you to do harder stuff you will slack off and rest on your laurels,” Heather told him. “If you can’t think of anything off hand, get Happy and Barak to visit with you, supply the beer and we’ll probably have a matter transmitter and all element synthesizer from the three of you the next morning. I’ve seen how either of them interacts with you. I can’t imagine both at once.”
“I think I felt a tremor in the firmament,” April said, grasping her chair arms. “Oh, no it was just gas,” she corrected, feeling her tummy.
“If you can stick that jump engine on a ship why can’t you bolt it on a rock and jump the thing wherever you want to go?” Heather demanded.
“Because the probability it will jump goes down with mass. In particular if I’m sitting on that rock I have no desire to explore the failure modes. I suspect James Weir was pushing the edge of the probability envelope and I have no idea if he even ended up back in this universe or if he exists at all.”
April screwed her eyebrows together in intense thought. “The mass has to be in relationship to something,” she insisted.
“It does?” Jeff asked, amused. “Tell me why.”
“I don’t have the technical terms, but you’re just messing with me, because you have some reason to think the ship wasn’t too much mass and a decent sized asteroid is. Seriously, if you tried to do a short jump like we’ve done inside the Solar System and it was too much mass, what would happen? I find it hard to believe it would just disappear like it got sucked down a black hole. I don’t think you know, because I remember you didn’t expect it to jump to Centauri with the power you had available. You said if we didn’t have a lot more velocity nothing would happen, and then shazam! We were four light years away.”
“I was wrong, and I’m still not sure why it jumps easier with the gravitation drive than the electromagnetic version. All I really see in the math is it jumps or it doesn’t,” Jeff admitted. “I can’t make a case for a continuing indeterminate state that doesn’t resolve. So I honestly have no idea what happened to Weir, and that scares me a lot. It tells me there is some other choice than A or B and I have no idea what or why. If you think our first jump was a big oops be aware we could be surprised again.”
“I have an intuitive answer, but I can’t express it mathematically so you may not like it,” April said.
“Truth, or the mathematical expression of it, doesn’t have to be likeable or popular,” Jeff said. “It often isn’t. Look at how they are not only denying Weir built a ship and jumped out, but a lot of voices are saying he couldn’t have because the theory behind it was false. Usually the difficulty is explaining the math in words, but if you want to do it the other direction we can try. If a true equivalence is possible it should be doable.”
“You are jumping, aiming at other stars, because they have mass. You said that when you were explaining it to me. And when we short jump in the Solar System if we aim too much towards say, Jupiter, our path curves towards it,” April said drawing a sweeping arch with her hand. “I propose that for a set level of power in your jump drive – how much mass it can make jump has some sort of relationship to how much mass is in the entire universe. If there wasn’t any other mass out there influencing your jump you’d either go nowhere or never reappear.”
“That has certain elegance to it,” Jeff admitted. “Expand that statement to say for a set power level and for the amount of my mom’s quantum fluid. If I had a bigger disk of it or could safely spin it faster that would change the limit too. It may be awhile before I can reduce that to math, but it does have promise.”
“I suppose you could load up the ship with mass, say rocks or ice, and keep doing test jumps and adding mass until you see some numbers start to change, or it plain refuses to go,” Heather speculated.
Jeff looked horrified. “Testing to failure, when you aren’t sure of the failure mode, is a very bad idea, especially for a manned vessel. Also, neither of our jump capable ships is designed to move freight. They don’t have large hatches much less large air locks. It’s not like we know of a place with low enough gravity to land, but enough to make loading operations easy. Somewhere with nicely sized pea gravel we could shovel in plastic drums and keep adding one each visit by your plan.”
“You could add that to the Remora,” Heather suggested. “It might be handy if we find a large artifact or valuables worth retrieving. It wouldn’t have to be fancy, even a bolt down plate for a hatch like most private zero G cubic has on Home. You could set it up to operate remotely from another ship beside it.”
“Does it even have to be inside?” April asked.
“Probably not,” Jeff said. “We weren’t planning on the Remora needing to be in a hold. We have antennas and landing jacks that stick out. They all came along with us just fine. If we stuck a pole straight off the side how long would it need to be before it didn’t get brought along on the jump, or before it kept the ship from jumping at all?”
“You think an extension might sort of anchor it?” April asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m agreeable to finding out, if it doesn’t bankrupt us, and if it doesn’t kill anybody, especially me but preferably not you either.”
“I have a suggestion,” Heather said. “Take a sample mass, nothing too big just yet. Say an ingot of whatever metal you have handy. Strap it to the hull and jump, just to establish it will come along. Then jump with it floating out of contact with the hull, about a half meter away. If it comes along with the ship keep moving it away until it doesn’t. Then repeat with a significantly larger mass. If you repeat it will give you enough data points to see how big a mass will be dragged along and how close it needs to be.”
“Or you could back up against a rock so it’s right in line behind you instead off to one side,” April suggested.
“That’s going to require a lot of repetitions, and it should be done at several power levels. I wish I had disks of different sizes in two drives. Both of ours are the same,” Jeff said. He never said yes, but he seemed to have bought the idea.
“Can you still make the drive in the Remora different?” April asked.
“Yes, and it’s a much smaller ship of lower mass. Everything else being equal, it may be able to drag along a larger mass if the sum of the masses in the field of influence matters.”
“Then have your crew do these tests until the Remora is ready to be released to their service,” Heather said, “I’ll feel much better about their safety and they won’t be restless and resentful waiting to go back out exploring.”
Heather said I’ll, but Jeff was pretty sure it was delivered in her We voice.
“I’ll drop a short heads up text on them and have a work sheet detailing how to proceed in a day or two,” Jeff promised.
“Thank you,” Heather said in her command voice still. Jeff was glad he caught that, and hadn’t forced her to switch to the majestic plural.

Chapter 23
Linda Pennington looked in the mirror and examined herself with more than the usual honesty. The last couple times she came home from work she was tired. That was something she wasn’t used to feeling. There were a couple folds at the corners of her eyes when she squinted. They weren’t crow’s feet yet, but she was pretty sure they were announcing where they would be in five or six years.
Overall, Linda still felt she looked pretty damn good for a lady of thirty six years, but forty seemed awfully close, and in balancing all her options and desires she had finally come to the realization that if she went back home she was going to be old soon, while most of the people she saw here every day would stay almost the same in appearance, never mind healthy. Linda cared a great deal for appearance and health was something she took for granted.
If you lived in North America, or most of Earth for that matter, the official position driven home every day in the news and entertainment shows could be pretty convincing. Life extension was unnatural and ungodly. It made you crazy if not outright evil.
Well, if life extension was making the people she worked with everyday crazy, it was crazy like a fox. She couldn’t think of one person she knew who didn’t have work if they wanted it. The constant labor shortage meant people treated their employees better because there weren’t three or four people waiting to replace them. Everybody here seemed much more secure than back in North America, where if you got on the negative tax it was almost impossible to get back off of it. Security and stability was something Linda had always craved because it was so lacking in her life as a child.
One facet of that was that Linda hated change. Her childhood taught her to expect change is always going to be a bad thing. But she’d been on Home so long now that going back to Earth would be a bigger change than staying. Trouble was, she was remembering the things that made them leave Earth in the first place. None of those had gone away. She was pretty sure it was going to be a choice between going back to Earth or going on the Moon with no option to stay on Home.
She couldn’t fault Mo no matter how she thought on it, and she was no stranger to finding fault. He’d taken care of her and the kids pretty well, as well as could be expected given how things had been on Earth. Certainly he’d done better than her father had cared for her mother. She’d barely trusted him to come to Home and here he wanted her to go on to the Moon now. Would that be stable or would they be off to Mars or someplace just about the time she was settled in on the Moon?
Even if she made Mo promise to stay put, she realized that wasn’t really the sort of promise he might be able to keep. Events change, just like they did on Earth to force them to leave. There wasn’t a choice to be had she really wanted. If she wanted life extension therapy, which sounded better by the day, she was cutting herself off forever from Earth. Lindsey wasn’t going to come back and live with her again here or on Earth. She knew that in her heart once Lindsey blocked her calls, and everybody else made it quite clear they were on her side of that issue. So she was on her own. Well, not all alone. Mo still offered the Moon if she’d go look at it.
If she went to the Moon they said most folks made enough to buy LET if they saved up for it. Mo might share his income again, because he stopped doing that when she wouldn’t come and at least look at conditions on the Moon. She was never going to make enough with her cleaning job at the club to buy LET, and she wasn’t going to be able to keep this apartment forever. When that ended she’d have to watch her pennies even closer to live on her cleaning job. She’d be doing good to sleep in a rented bunk and live out of a locker. Everything considered, she decided she better go check out the Moon before Mo withdrew his offer.
If her kids or Mo could have heard her internal debate they would be horrified and she wouldn’t understand why. Nowhere in her calculations had love or affection come to mind or been given any weight towards her decision. It simply didn’t occur to her. It hadn’t been a factor when she married to get away from her horrible family life, and it wasn’t something she’d grown to feel over time. And yet, she valued loyalty and keeping your word. It was vital to there being any stability and security.
* * *
“Did you forget to charge me my part of the expenses?” Eric asked warily. He was looking at two Solars, a half Solar, plus a few bits in his palm.
“Do we suddenly look stupid?” Diana asked. “Don’t answer that! You have access to the books. Did you lose the address?”
“I’m busy and not very good with spreadsheets, but I’ll look,” Eric promised
“That’s your cut after shared expenses, and this is just the first game. We had start up expenses. The next game will be more profitable,” Sylvia said.
“Do we need any further funding? I can plow this back into the partnership if you want me to,” Eric offered.
“No, not really,” Sylvia said. “Read the report. I didn’t consult with you or Diana, but I set aside ten percent of the net to build up our cash holding. I figured it was easily undone if either of you objected. Unless we start some new big game or venture we’re set for operating funds. I don’t see us needing to bring in any new partners either.”
“I should have thrown more in the open pot when we started,” Eric said.
Diana kept a straight face, with some effort. Eric contributed a half kilogram of gold when they started their partnership. That had shocked her at the time, now she wondered just how much more he could have kicked in. He’d literally pulled that out of his pocket, but she’d seen him count that out and put some back. How old was he? He looked about fourteen, but he still went to sleep in the full G dorm. Any way she asked would sound like Earth Think.
“Are you happy with the ticket token system my guy created?” Eric asked.
“It looks good,” Sylvia said, “but I’m no better with computer security than you are with spreadsheets. That’s why we asked you to farm it out. Is it really secure enough nobody can fake having bought an electronic ticket?”
Eric shrugged. “Nothing is unbreakable. They declare something is mathematically unbreakable until the heat death of the universe, and a couple years later it’s busted. It’s bit chain so you can trace every sale as unique. If somebody wants to argue with your records you can tell them to go pound sand, because if Earthie law doesn’t agree it can’t reach here anyway. They aren’t going to intercept the key because it’s elliptic curve encryption. It might be broken, but not within the time frame of a lotto game. Breaking it fifty years from now is kind of pointless.”
“Did one of your little friends whip this up?” Diana asked.
Eric looked at her oddly. “He’s one of my people, but nothing little about him. He’s a big dude in his seventies and supposedly retired. Now that he’s had LET he feels good again and wants to do little contracting jobs like this. He figures he better get back into it because he doubts his pension will keep paying him forever once they figure out he isn’t going to conveniently die.”
Well crap, Diana was being so careful and she still stuck her foot in it.
Sylvia saved her by filling what would have been an awkward silence.
“The Earthie talking heads and politicians speak in public about LET like it is a moral issue. Truth is it would destroy not just pensions but just about any form of life insurance and government entitlements. If you create enough angry people who don’t care that what they were promised is now impossible, that can bring down governments.
“One minor problem is Mackay Christian was so disgusted by the winner we had him baby-sitting he told us not to ask him to do another. He was kind enough to ask his partners if anybody would do it for us. He said his partner Otis Duggan would do it, even after hearing of Mackay’s experience.”
Eric looked so alarmed Sylvia had to ask why?
“I’ve met him,” Eric said, “He’s kind of scary, but I should leave it up to you to form your own opinion. You should ask Gunny to tell you the whole story about how Otis came up to Home. The main point that impressed me was that he basically conned the Patriot Party out of a seven figures in EuroMarks and saved President Wiggen’s butt as a freebie. Gunny was very impressed, and given Gunny’s own level of competence it takes a lot to impress him.”
“Well, that explains why I’ve seen him with Wiggen and her husband at various functions a few times,” Sylvia said, looking thoughtful. “I can’t see ripping the Patriot Party off as anything but a sterling recommendation.”
Eric nodded. “It’s just that hiring him to escort a lotto winner might be like buying a sledge hammer to crack eggs.
“Have you ever cracked a real shell egg?” Sylvia asked, dubious.
“When we lived on Earth we had a real kitchen with pots and pans and stuff. I’ve cooked eggs and sausage and bacon, and just about any fool can use a toaster,” Eric said. “I even know how to properly load a coffee maker. You didn’t think we were heat-and-eat negative tax people did you?”
* * *
“As you suspected, when a vessel jumps out it tends to drag along anything near it.” Jeff told April.
“Did I say that? We went back and forth so much I’m not sure I remember.”
“I’m sure Heather has it recorded if you want to look up the file,” Jeff said.
“No, it’s not like I’m trying to argue with you, we just bounced back and forth between so many ideas I just don’t remember exactly. That’s the kind of thing people do who are picking an argument. I’m not going to start doing that to you,” April promised. “You’d come to hate me quickly.”
“Thank you. They tried quite a few objects. They seem to either come along or not. They don’t get cut or crushed or anything, but if they stick out too far even a piece of electrical conduit will keep one of our current vessels from jumping if it sticks out more than about nine meters.
“Dragging something along located closely behind the ship works much better. Until you hit a certain mass and then it just won’t drag it along. Now it it’s really the mass, or if it is that the far side of the object is too far away I don’t know. It will be interesting to find out,” Jeff said.
“How are you going to do that?” April wondered.
“By finding some object of very different density but similar size and trying to haul them along with the same settings. The crew has warned me however there is some sort of disturbance near the ship when it jumps. They tried to drag along a small snowball and when they failed to take it with them they came back and the radar reflector they put on it was there, but the ball had been shattered to a big cloud of ice particles. It appeared most of it would reconsolidate again gravitationally, but it was a slow process.”
“Well that answers one question that I kept coming back to,” April said.
“Do share, please,” Jeff begged.
“I wondered if you could jump straight from sitting on the landing field at Central.”
“Knowing you, I’m surprised you didn’t ask them to try,” Jeff said.
“Oh no, that would be much too dangerous,” April insisted. “What if… but never mind. I’m being silly.”
“For some reason, the possibility simply never occurred to me,” Jeff admitted. “Your instincts are very good. You wanted me to aim somewhere that first time, even though I thought I was just doing a field test. Why would it seem dangerous to you?”
“What if the Moon came along with you?” April asked.
Jeff looked horrified, but said nothing.
“I mean, sure you should be able to get it back the same way if you could jockey it around enough, but back exactly where it was supposed to go?” April asked. “You’d never get it just right and all the years and years of predictions of the astronomers and data for navigation… even the tides would be screwed up and one has to assume people would notice no matter how fast you got it back. Sure as anything, somebody would figure out who was to blame too.”
“As convenient as it would be to move Mars in a bit, and Venus away from the Sun, I’m glad we can’t play God at a celestial game of billiards,” Jeff said. “As well as I think of myself I’m not ready for that kind of power.”
“Also, what would happen if you initiated a jump with something in front of you?” April asked.
“We’ll know that as soon as you have a ship you will risk losing, and we’ll observe the process from ten thousand kilometers away,” Jeff said.
“We really should find out,” April insisted. “I can see us in a situation where we’re being blocked from leaving. The commander will want to know what the ship can do to get them away.”
Jeff thought on that a bit, frowning. “If we keep running into other ships, and you can make a reasonable case for a situation where we’d have to allow them to get close to us, I would risk the Remora to find out. But now it’s already enough of a stretch to our finances to add the Remora,” he complained.
“So for now we have a policy of non-contact?” April asked.
“Deliberate avoidance, yes. I don’t think we have anywhere near the resources we’d need for a first contact. I’m not sure anybody does.”
Heather was nodding agreement. “Even more importantly,” She insisted, “we have to exercise every sort of caution to keep from leading them back here.”
“I don’t like that. I really want to meet some honest to goodness aliens, but I can see the dangers. We do need to assemble the resources first,” April agreed.
“This is technically your sovereign undertaking,” Jeff reminded Heather. “If you would explain this is our policy to the crew before they go out again I think they will take it to heart from you better than from me.”
“We shall do that,” Heather decreed in her royal voice.
* * *
Sylvia’s phone chirped at her. The display indicted it was Lindsey’s mother, Linda Pennington, so Sylvia steeled herself for unpleasantness and confrontation.
“Hello, Mrs. Pennington.” She wanted to say ‘What can I do for you?’ or some other pleasantry, but she stifled it. The woman was pushy and might take it for a commitment to do her bidding. That left an awkward silence since her inflection hinted at a continuing statement that never materialized. Linda’s face never showed any sign it bothered her though, she went on very smoothly.
“Hello, Ms. Anderson. I’m sorry to bother you, but my daughter Lindsey has blocked calls from my account number. I thought it important she know that I’ve come to accept she has flown the nest and isn’t coming back. I don’t think she is ready, but nobody seems to respect my opinion in the matter. In fact, if she desires to make application to be an adult under Home law I won’t speak against it publicly. I’m going to visit my husband on the Moon since he indicated he is too busy to take his customary leave back to Home. If Lindsey wishes to… normalize relations as it were, I wouldn’t be calling her frequently, and certainly not to argue over things that are over and done. And I thank you for the care you’ve shown her.” She shut up then and it had a note of finality.
To say much of anything would invite further discussion, so Sylvia just said, “I’ll inform her of all that. Good day,” and disconnected.
Lindsey was watching from the side, out of the camera’s range, with a little frown on her face. “I’m not going to unlock my com access,” she insisted.
“I don’t blame you,” Sylvia said. “I don’t intend to urge you to go one way or the other. Notice, I didn’t acknowledge anything at all? Not even her thanks for showing you any care, because I certainly didn’t do it for her.”
“She had to get that little dig in that she hasn’t changed her mind at all, just accepted that she isn’t going to get her way.” There was a flash of consternation and shock that went across Lindsey’s face from a sudden insight.
“I was in fear all those years that my mom and dad would separate and get divorced and I would be the cause of it. All of a sudden it seems silly. How they treat each other can’t be blamed on me or Eric. They chose each other, but we didn’t choose to be in the family. It’s hard to express exactly without sounding terribly ungrateful for being given life.”
“Indeed,” Sylvia agreed. “Therein is the power of guilt some manage to wield over an entire clan. They gave you life, but that doesn’t trump everything and give them license to bend you to their purposes forever. I tried to say that before, but it didn’t matter as long as you felt obligated.”
“I know one thing,” Lindsey said. “I’m never going to marry unless I have a lot more in common with my husband than my mom and dad did. I think Dad got the short end of the deal and has put way more into it than my mom.”
“And yet, he doesn’t seem eager to end it,” Sylvia pointed out, “which is much easier here than back on Earth. They both still seem to see some value in their marriage. I doubt they will ever candidly discuss their reasons with you. Those sorts of things go so deep and are so complex they might not even fully acknowledge them in their own minds. People are good at fooling themselves.
“The norm on Earth has been to let the church and state define the terms of marriage, and I find that a huge mistake. People don’t take it personally and seriously if they have no input in defining the terms of a contract. It isn’t entirely voluntary, because the terms are pretty much take it or leave it. Even when people started doing things like writing prenuptial agreements they weren’t seen as part of the vows. We can do better,” Sylvia insisted.
“And none of my business with which to meddle,” Lindsey decided with finality. “We have our own relationship, but she doesn’t get to define the terms now like she used to do.”
“That sounds healthy to me,” Sylvia agreed, hoping that ended it for now.
To her relief Lindsey said, “I have an idea how to texture a recess so it displays the backlighting better. Do you know what a Fresnel lens is?”
“Of course,” Sylvia replied, “I’ve seen them both in a bulls eye form and stepped along a line, but they’d seem difficult to form into shapes like we sculpt.”
“Let me draw how I think we could do that for you… ”
* * *
Eileen was soaked to above her knees and her feet were so cold they were going numb. The stream was from melting snow, and hadn’t warmed all that much by the time it got down to their land. She stuck the suction tool under the next big rock and jerked the handle back with a long hard pull. She had enough, and climbed over the gravel bank to where Vic was rocking a separator back and forth and emptied the pump into the bucket beside the machine.
“I should have worn your waders and double sweat pants,” she admitted.
“Funny isn’t it, how broiling on top doesn’t help freezing on the bottom?”
“It’s worth it,” Eileen said. “I don’t know when we will have enough to buy a lift ticket, but you can never have too much gold.”
“It’s going to be as tough to get to where you can sell the gold safely, as it will be to save up enough to buy a couple shuttle tickets.” Vic said. “I notice how the official news we hear repeated never mentions Hawaii now, but Arnold says one of the guys he does business with listens to shortwave, and the news from other countries mention The Free State of Hawaii or the Hawaiian Republic, depending on how they translate. I wouldn’t be surprised if it will be easier to get there than anywhere in Europe or way beyond in the Pacific when it comes time to lift. I hope the legalities are in place by then to sell my land rather than try to keep ownership from afar, and I’d like enough saved to arrive on Home comfortable, not broke.”
Eileen almost stopped breathing, and forced herself not to visibly react. This was if first time Vic talked about going to space matter-of-factly, that he didn’t say if this or if that, down a whole long list of qualifying circumstances. She wasn’t about to make him regret saying it and spoil the moment.
* * *
“Well, well… It would appear that the Martians did give some thought to the practicalities of declaring independence,” Heather said.
April and Jeff, who were cuddling at the other end of the sofa and about to invite Heather to get involved, were suddenly interested.
“Did somebody recognize them for free?” April asked.
“No, that is, not an actual nation-state, and not even for free. They have a laundry list of rich people, activists, and space nuts who are going to buy the Sandman from the European Union and operate it to supply the Martian state. They really can’t offer visitation to that many people, so I imagine they will only offer tours to the very richest of their sponsors,” Heather guessed. “I have no idea what they can offer to the little people who chipped in.”
“T-shirts? Coffee mugs?” Jeff quipped. “Are school kids sending pennies?”
“I wouldn’t want to visit,” April said. “If it didn’t turn out to be the utopian paradise you expected and you said the wrong thing… you’re country’s law doesn’t reach there to protect you.”
“I doubt any of the little people as you put it, who could be safely disappeared will ever be invited,” Jeff said. “Just folks who can pledge a few million EuroMarks a year to have it as a safe backup. Of course the ultra-rich can still can have a terrible accident, but you can’t get away with that too many times.”
“Backup for what?” April asked, mystified.
“People at that wealth level often have dual citizenship and hold several passports,” Jeff explained. “So if they get into irreparable legal trouble in one jurisdiction or the government suddenly gets overthrown and you are identified with the old by the new regime you can hustle out of town ahead of the mob.”
“Watch out that you don’t get in the business of providing a safe haven for refugees from Pavonis Mons, like you did for Armstrong,” April warned Heather.
“It’s going to be awhile before we have any permanent structure there and anything north of sixty degrees is several times out of any rover range,” Heather assured them. “Besides, that was thrust upon me when they showed up on our doorstep unasked. You’re the lady with the rescue complex.”
April didn’t try to deny it. It was true.

* * *
“Sweetie I have some good news for you,” Diana said, gushing.
“OK, what’s the punch line?” April demanded.
“Shame on you! You sound like a cynical old lady, like me. Don’t you know I only have your best interests at heart? Why, we’re neighbors.”
“We are if the Hawaiians don’t decide to purge all us ‘invaders’ from the islands.” April said. She wasn’t in a mood for glib assurances, just straight talk.
“I couldn’t blame them in a way,” Diana admitted. “But as a practical matter there simply aren’t enough of them, so they need quite a few of us. To get the specialists any modern civilization needs they have to put up with the rest of us.
“That was one item of my good news. Your title to your home is guaranteed by the new constitution, and we are grandfathered in, for being long standing land owners as citizens of the Republic of Hawaii.”
“I’ll have to wait and see what that means,” April said cautiously. “If they want to tax my income up here or put a punitive tax on my house I may decline their citizenship.”
“I can’t promise, but I predict they will be reasonable. It wouldn’t make any sense to keep all the non-natives and then turn around and drive them away.”
“No, I suppose not. That looks… promising,” April admitted.
“The other good news is I have your cut of our lotto sales. It’s a bit more, oh I have to stop using that word that way. It’s somewhat more than two Solars. How would you like me to pay you?”
“Next time you go to the cafeteria just stop in the Private Bank of Home down the corridor and tell then you want to deposit it to my accounts,” April said. “Irwin certainly knows who I am to credit it to the right account.”
“Oh my goodness,” Diana said. “Back home in Hawaii they make me show photo ID and prove who I am to deposit to my own account, much less put funds in somebody else’s account.”
“This is a huge problem for you,” April asked, “strangers sneaking in and dumping unauthorized money in your accounts?”
Diana didn’t know what to say for a moment. “It’s Earth Think again?”
April just nodded.

Chapter 24
The face on his screen was someone he’d never expected to see again.
“You know who I am. No names please. I’m calling from Central on the Moon. I’ll be careful not to mention anything confidential,” Adam promised.
“You are not even supposed to be able to call me on an unsecured line. I’ll have to reprimand people for forwarding your call,” Paul said, irritated.
“I can’t exactly walk in and announce myself at the front desk. I don’t have any travel documents. I’m fortunate to be alive. I have information from when I was a guest… elsewhere recently, but I’d have to be well inside your security or given a secure channel to report. I could make a drop somewhere if you wish.”
Paul shook his head no, and looked sad. “You know better. You know how this works,” he emphasized. “Anything from you has already been declared suspect, because you were out of our control and observation for far too long. Not only once but twice now with the Central people. There’s been sufficient time for you to have been conditioned if not outright turned. You could be a walking time bomb and I’d never allow myself to be in the same room with you now.”
“They already knew who I work for here. They were very dismissive about it. It shocked me to my core. I’m not sure I had anything they didn’t already know.”
“All the worse then,” Paul said, but it shocked him too, because he believed it. The politician, Broutin, had been surveilled saying the same thing in private.
“What am I to do then? Do you expect me to kill myself to tidy up all the loose ends and make your world safer?” Adam asked.
“We are not heartless. You gave us service. If you turn yourself in here, in country, we will of course interrogate you. But what you say will be considered to possibly be what someone wants us to believe. If you have been conditioned to believe it even the cap won’t reveal the truth, just what you believe.
“You would be given a safe government job, safely away from anything of value to us. Perhaps something in the department handling motor vehicle licensing and regulation, or something like agriculture, processing loans to farmers. You’ll be secure to move forward to a nice pension,” Paul said.
Adam considered all that. He was chagrined to find he trusted Paul less than he did Heather and her peers. It would be an insipid life, with unchallenging duties that would amount to make-work for him. He would probably not even be allowed a passport that would allow him outside France. If he failed to carry a phone and otherwise made himself untrackable, as he had been trained to do, that alone would be sufficient reason to suspect him and make them take him back in custody.
“I have to think on that,” Adam said. He might as well have said no. Paul’s eyebrows shot up in alarm that he didn’t immediately accept. Oh well, count that bridge burnt too. It was immediately obvious there was nothing else to say, and Adam cut the connection without even wasting a good-bye.
He could go to Marseille, the culture and language would be comfortable and familiar there, but while technically not France they had strong links. If Paul wanted to assassinate him there to deny anyone else his skills it would be trivially easy for him. He wasn’t sure they couldn’t reach him here, but it might not be worth the trouble.
All options considered, he’d be wiser to do what April had suggested to him, and ask her sovereign for formal asylum. If it was to be believed, he’d still have the option to get on a bus and go to any of the other Moon bases or even the habitats.
* * *
April’s phone started a priority beep, and then switched to a beep, beep, pause, beep, beep that indicated more than one priority call. Heather and Jeff’s phones were raising a racket too, and the screen on Heather’s wall flashed red three times and their man Chen appeared. The first call on her phone was Chen so she dismissed that. Jeff and Heather both got their phones silenced so she took a deep breath and let her heart-beat return to normal. She’d hear what Chen said off the screen before she took her second call.
“I have confirmation the French are assembling another ship after the fashion of James Weir’s vessel at Marseille. One of Weir’s partners has been made at the base, and the same ship that brought him had materials to start constructing a ship building facility. They appear to intend to do modules in pressure and assemble it in vacuum.”
Jeff and Heather both started asking questions, and April decided she’d heard enough to go to her other call. Papa-san was waiting for her and looking relaxed, unworried at her slight delay.
“I thought you might like to know one of my assets reported an associate of James Weir has been seen entering the lunar version of Marseille, in company with a ship load of unusual building materials. One suspects that they intend to open a shipyard of some sort.”
“Our man Chen is making the same report to Jeff and Heather. Did he get it from you or you from him?” April asked, curious.
“It seems likely we both have the same source. I believe he is as you say – double dipping. That’s fine. I don’t pay him to be an exclusive asset and I must admit I’ve done the same thing often myself,” Papa-san said with amusement.
“Thank you, we wanted to be aware of this so it didn’t catch us by surprise.”
“Do you intend to do anything about it?” Papa-san asked directly.
“Not the way your face says you mean. We aren’t going to compete with them, or sabotage their efforts, but when they do succeed it will complicate our relationship with Earth. We have contractual obligations that actually support their enterprise, and we expect it will raise issues about the L1 limit for armed vessels Heather has imposed.”
Papa-san noted the absolute certainty with which she expected their success. His experience with April said that wasn’t a careless failure to add a disclaimer.
“Indeed. They may claim it doesn’t apply to armed vessels built outside the limit,” Papa-san speculated.
“Well crud. I don’t think we ever thought of that take on it. Thanks. Forewarned is forearmed,” April said. Papa-san just nodded and ended his call.
Jeff and Heather both gave her an expectant look, inviting a report when she laid her phone back down.
“I got confirmation of what Chen was saying, but nothing additional.” No reason to tell them who her source was. She had a certain mystique to maintain.
* * *
“Should we remove him?” Markus asked.
“I… would not,” Paul said, awkwardly.
“Not, you shouldn’t, or it isn’t necessary?” Markus asked, looking at Paul oddly. “I know you. That isn’t your natural way of speaking at all. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Paul said. “My thinking was at least partially influenced by prohibited sources, and prejudiced by unprofessional personal regard.”
“You somehow became attached to this agent?” Markus asked.
“No, to you,” Paul answered.
Markus looked astonished. After a brief hesitation he turned his computer screen so both of them could see it. Paul was as familiar with their internal recording and documentation software as he was, so when Markus turned off the recording of their meeting he had a fair expectation it was real and not a false action. It was rare and risky, because if things went very badly wrong the time gap in their documentation could ruin them both.
“I think you better tell me what you are thinking, off the record and unvarnished,” Markus demanded.
“Agent 71 was feeling me out to see if he could report in. I didn’t hold out any false hope to him that he could return to any sort of intelligence work. He knows that’s not doctrine, and I reminded him of that. He had about as much interest in being a desk pilot for some unimportant or obscure agency until retirement as I would. So after that door was pretty much slammed in his face, and he was no longer trying to persuade me of anything, he said they already knew he was French intelligence. In fact he said he wasn’t sure he had anything to share with them they didn’t already know. That just echoes what Broutin told the Prime Minister. That they knew far more than what he’d been entrusted with. It irked him of course, to not be told critical things so he couldn’t reveal them.
“Not that anyone would trust Broutin with a serious secret. His face is a roadmap straight to his soul, and he thinks the rest of the world is the same sort. He’s the kindly sort of man who believes a street beggar needs just a little bit more to be able to afford his heart medicine.”
“And yet, credulous or not, he did come back with the same facts we held and hadn’t entrusted to him before his departure,” Paul pointed out. “They informed him of the Brazilians’ relationship to our government. There’s no way they should have had the least sniff of that. Now we have a collaborating set of statements from agent 71. I can’t see any advantage the Spacers would gain by revealing the reach of their intelligence network to us, quite the opposite.”
“Why would this make you hesitate to remove an unreliable agent?” Markus asked. “He knew it’s a rough game with lethal risks at this level when he signed on. I wouldn’t expect to be treated any differently if I became a liability who knew too much to let walk around where anyone might snatch me and pump me dry.”
“To whom shall he turn now, since he clearly isn’t going to come in and retire into obscurity and what he knows will be limited freedom?” Paul asked.
“Well, I assume the Centralists,” Markus said.
“Central is not like France. As you know, it is within my assigned sphere of interest, and I know a great deal more about it than the public. Your agents don’t waste your time with too much background information. That’s their job to know and use to interpret what they pass to you.
“Here’s why they are very different in this situation. There isn’t any bureaucracy to which he can apply for immigration or fill out forms and supply documents seeking asylum. It is a very small, very well run dictatorship, of a sort that we have very few left on Earth. The sovereign’s word is law, and she holds court weekly like a Medieval European king, dispensing justice based on her personal sense of right and wrong. Word is that her own people, if they have any sense, resolve their own conflicts rather than ask her ruling. It is quite possible to stand before her sure of your own righteousness and end up exiled, stripped of everything you own, or in the extreme dead.”
Paul stopped to make sure Markus was really tracking what he said.
“If he’s allowed stay at all, he’d have to do so by appealing directly to Heather Anderson. If she allows him to stay he would come under her umbrella of protection. If, even worse, she decided to take his oath as a sworn man he would come under a much tighter shield of protection. These three, the queen and her two close peers who seem her consorts, are ruthless. They are young, and may very well be idealistic after the pattern of which you accuse Broutin, but that makes them all the more dangerous.”
“How ruthless? The young and idealistic usually eschew torture and extra legal operations the old and cynical will embrace.”
“She once caught a spy from Armstrong red handed making dead drops.”
“What did she do?” Markus demanded at his hesitation. “Shoot him?”
“Indeed, she dispenses justice with her pistol lying on the table in front of her, so if she has to execute a miscreant she can do it herself on the spot.”
Markus boggled at that, but Paul went on.
“She released him. She prohibited his leaving Central, which is surprisingly easy to enforce in their small community, and allowed him to continue in the kitchen job he was working as a cover.”
“That seems naive. He could have caused all sorts of mischief and sabotage.”
“Really? He was in a very similar position, with the North Americans, like agent 71 finds himself with us,” Paul said.
“Yes, I can see that,” Markus decided.
“Within a week the North Americans did the same as you considered doing with our man. He was found in the kitchen freezer quite dead.”
Markus got it. “How coldly calculating, she’d have been kinder to shoot him down on the spot… he was a tethered goat. But it was stupid of them to reveal they had the reach to get to him there.”
“But you want to do the same thing?” Paul asked.
“Oh… ”
“I don’t care to take the chance that if she could know agent 71 was ours on Mars, she doesn’t know much more about our organization, including our actual identities. If we touched somebody under her protection I’d expect retribution, fearless, excessive retribution, because with them it’s personal.”
“Her peer April is the young lady who politely informed North American control not to fire upon her friend Jeff, the other peer. She quite calmly told them if they did she’d put a stop to it. That was Vandenberg, their preeminent missile defense base guarding their Pacific coast.
“They decided to take a shot at him and ignore her. Their main missile defense base could not even protect itself. She overwhelmed it with hundreds of kinetic weapons from every direction, multiple low yield weapons and blinding sheets of plasma that disabled the base’s radars until it lay open and defenseless to the final strike.
“The site is now a featureless shallow valley dimpled by a three hundred megaton weapon that pushed the bedrock down into the earth so hard it was felt all the way from Vancouver to the end of the Baja. It also pretty well destroyed the surrounding vital infrastructure in an area bigger than France.
“If they wouldn’t hesitate to do that to North America they certainly wouldn’t think a thing of dropping a small weapon on our building. Or if their intelligence is as good as these two claim, perhaps just a tank killer rod from orbit through your office would suffice.”
“I knew about the California thing. I thought that was Home people.”
“They hold dual citizenship and flit back and forth,” Paul said.
“I see your point. The risks do seem far out of proportion to any possible gain. We’ll speak no more of it,” Markus said, turned the screen back to himself, reactivating the recording program.
* * *
“How did you manage that?” Eileen asked, surprised but delighted. She’d seen all sorts of personal things for sale at the festival, but not any wedding rings.
“It’s our gold,” Vic said. “I wasn’t sure about my ability to get it hot enough to melt and mold it, so I took the fine flakes and tiny nuggets and drove them into a little form I cut in a piece of scrap. It would have been easier back when we had power, but a ranch has all kinds of bits and pieces to work with. I smashed them down with a punch I made from pipe, heated it up, and added more on top to do it all over again until I had it built up. It’s sintered or I guess forged and pressure welded is just as accurate to say. Then I had to peen it on that hard pin I bought at the festival, and polish it. Try it, please. I just guessed the sizing, and I can slip it back on the tapered pin and hammer it down a bit until it isn’t as tight, or polish the edge rounder if it’s too sharp.”
Eileen twisted it on. “It’s snug, but I want to leave it that way. I don’t want to be able to fling it off by just waving my hand and lose it. It’s nice and smooth too. You’re a man of many talents.”
“If you change your mind I can adjust it any time,” Vic offered.
“I’d really like it if you’d make one for yourself too,” Eileen requested.
“OK, I may not wear it working, but I’ll wear it to festivals and such.”
“That exactly what I had in mind,” Eileen agreed.
* * *
Heather wanted to get quickly rid of the fellow standing before her who’d come in angry and proceeded to make a fool of himself. He’d basically been offended by the man he was denouncing, and too stubborn and full of himself to take the man’s apology. If he’d suffered some material loss she could have made him whole, but his only loss was to his pride. It was a shame, because she needed both of them in their current jobs. More to the point she needed them to work together. He didn’t seem disposed to wrap his plea up. She hated to cut him off because it looked bad, but he was pushing it.
All the while Heather was very aware that the French spy, Adam, was sitting on the petitioner’s bench all twitchy and nervous. She was as eager to be done with these other cases and to hear what he wanted as he was, but first come first served was a set tradition already when they had so few. It wasn’t worth destroying it to serve her own impatience.
She was also in a bit of a bad mood because Jeff and April had to run back to Home and that made her grouchy. She couldn’t afford to be seen as a moody sovereign, dangerous to approach. At least these two standing before her weren’t her sworn men. If one of her handpicked people acted stupid she always felt it reflected poorly on her that she’d accepted their oath. He took a breath and she jumped in at the slight pause.
“Mr. Hadley, I’m not clear on what you want me to do. You haven’t suffered a material loss to correct. I’m not about to start fining folks for hurting other’s feelings. It’s pointless to command him to repeat an apology he’s already given freely. What he said was hurtful, but I’m by no means certain he wasn’t basically correct about your personality. I need both of you, but among the god-like powers of a sovereign the ability to wave a magic wand and make people like each other and get along seems to have been left out of my beginners tool kit.
“I’m not sure even exiling one of you would keep this from coming to haunt Central in the future. I see no clear way to resolve this satisfactorily, but then sometimes there is no good easy solution. Therefore I give you one opportunity to resolve it randomly.” She reached in her pocket and took a Solar, flipping it to Hertz who was standing slightly behind his accuser Hadley.
“I’m writing down either heads or tails,” Heather said, scratching something out on a paper pad. She then flipped it over on its face. “If you wish me to resolve this, tell Mr. Hertz to flip the coin and both of you tell me what is displayed. I will then shoot Mr. Hadley dead if it matches my pad or Mr. Hertz if it is the opposite. The survivor is welcome to come forward and examine my notepad to assure my justice was completely impartial.”
Hadley’s mouth worked but nothing came out. He turned to Hertz and said, “I don’t know how we came to this point. I never wanted you dead. I don’t want you to flip that coin. Just give it back to her please.”
“We got here because you’re a butt-head, and wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t about to keep groveling over and over because I told you an uncomfortable truth. If you don’t come to realize that you’ll just end up back here, probably with the other person being the petitioner instead of you. I’m not sure I shouldn’t take the risk to be rid of you. It’s about the same odds as if we dueled.”
Hertz opened his palm and scooped the coin into the crook of his index finger with his thumb, poised to flip.
“Don’t do it Art. If she shoots you it will haunt me forever. People will hate me, and with good reason. I’m so sorry. If you agree not to flip it I’ll go to Armstrong. I’ll self banish, and you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“That’s sufficient for me. We’ve both apologized and it’s over. Whether you go to Armstrong or not is up to you.” He walked forward and put the coin on Heather’s table and returned.
“My Lady,” Hadley said, visibly shaken, “I’m sorry we wasted your time. I respectfully submit we have resolved our case and I wish to withdraw my complaint.”
“Don’t ‘My Lady’ me,” Heather told him. “You aren’t my sworn man and aren’t likely to ever achieve that status. I want the two of you to clear out of here, and if I ever see you walk in my court together again I’ll shoot the both of you on sight before I ever hear a word from you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Most clear, thank you.” They didn’t quite run for the door.
“And you… ” Heather said to her last petitioner, Adam. “What can I do for you? March up here to the little rug and let me hear your story.”
“You know the back-story,” Adam said. “I called my boss, which wasn’t easy without an agency channel, and asked about reporting in. They basically don’t repatriate an agent who has been out of their control too long. It’s simply too dangerous. The state of the art right now favors conditioning over their ability to detect and counter it.
“I’d be given a very safe boring clerical job to suffer through until I hit my retirement age. I expect I’d have to allow them to track me seamlessly, and I suspect border control would be alerted not to let me out of the country. For me I don’t see much difference in that from being in prison.
“Now, to be honest, Central isn’t my first choice. I’d like to have resumed something resembling my previous life, doing the work I know and in the country where I grew up, but as I was reminded it doesn’t work that way. I’m asking if I may stay here as a refugee? I’m not stupid or without skills that fall outside spy craft. I’ll do my best to add to the community and see to your interests if you will tolerate me.”
“You don’t ask for asylum or citizenship?” Heather asked.
“I’m not terribly sure what the difference is between residency and citizenship is here. I did see clearly being sworn is not something you toss out like party favors. Asylum… well that implies protection. You said you do business with France, so I can’t very well ask you to go against your own interests if it would provoke France. I don’t have any idea if you do extradition.
“If I’m an inconvenience I could go to one of the other Moon bases, but I have no personal documents, what I had was on Mars and they were false anyhow. I somehow doubt France will produce valid copies of my real identity papers and send them off to me here. Entry at Marseille or Armstrong might be difficult.”
“Extradition would be at my discretion on a case by case basis,” Heather said. “I haven’t had any other jurisdiction ask for anyone to be delivered to them. I can imagine circumstances in which I’d do that, but not under duress.
“Residency is open to anyone unless I exclude them. We don’t have enough people, and if you can make your way here and support yourself you may reside. The expense of that is a formidable barrier without adding to it. I don’t offer any support if you can’t make a go of it here on your own. There are no negative tax or government subsidies.
“Citizenship is tied to owning property or being sworn to me or of my peerage, which is a step well above landed citizenship and can’t be bought with the same sort of coin. Land is something I do grant occasionally rather than income. Let me ask you a question. If I granted you an estate, would you be prepared to renounce your French citizenship to assume that of Central? Would you accept my governance?”
“That goes to the core of my identity,” Adam admitted, disturbed. “I’ve been loyal to France, and France has been loyal to me, if in diminished terms. Like most nations they are too big to worry about how they treat individuals except as a faceless composite. It’s impossible for me to speak to France face to face like I’m talking to you. It’s more like I might get the attention of the little toe. I rather like having access like this. It’s like I’m important.”
“I can be arbitrary too,” Heather warned him.
“In the case before mine you were arbitrary,” Adam acknowledged. “But even there, I saw you were being arbitrary by design, not because your rule is too huge and complex to avoid it. Rather, I saw your intent in doing so, and it worked.
“I think this is the best deal I’m going to get, and better than I expected when I walked in here. If you will gift me being a landed gentleman I will try to serve the interests of my adopted country.”
“I can see to the land, but the gentrification will have to be your own project. Dakota will give you a deed to an outlaying property as a legal matter when we are done. It’s bare lunar rock and regolith, so you can’t go there to live.”
She looked at her pad. “Dakota, register a bearer deed to lot 612 and print a hard copy out for us.”
“You can stay in our guest room for a few days, but basically you are going to have to accept some local employment and rent accommodations in pressure and in the local business and government complex to support yourself.”
Adam dipped his head slowly in a little bow to accept that.
“Now… about work. There are private employers if you wish to log in the local net and see who is offering what. If you wish to work for the kingdom, that’s me, there are all sorts of openings, but be aware we switch people around to different jobs as the need arises. I have no doubt some find that frustrating because they tell me, but it’s often necessary. If you would supply Dakota a copy of your skills it would be very helpful. Do not hesitate to include things for which you have no professional certification. If you for example can drive a ground car or truck but have no license, we’re not terribly concerned about that. Not until you get to the level of piloting spacecraft, and testing for that sort of license can be arranged.
“I know they currently are way understaffed on interior finishers, to seal and foam new cubic and add all the utilities and amenities. They are also short of good people in the cabbage mines, but unless you know a great deal about horticulture, gene editing, or food processing you’d be starting from scratch there too. The thing is I hate to waste your primary skills, because we’ve had very little in the way of plotting and rebellion among the cabbages.”
Adam blinked taken aback by the abrupt switch in narrative, but Heather had paused and was peering at him intensely, so she’d said that so glibly to throw him off balance, and it worked.
“It never occurred to me you might want to recruit my primary skills,” he admitted. “I assumed I was as tainted for that duty here as for France.”
“It helps not to be a raving paranoid,” Heather assured him. “Also there is a certain love of bureaucracy and endless rules and worship of authority most of us up here have come to call Earth Think, which gets in the way of accomplishing anything. Paranoia is fine when it has a rational basis in reality. But not as a knee jerk reaction to everything. Might you have been conditioned? Yes, but what are the chances both France and the Martians conspired to condition you to a set of responses aimed at Central, knowing you would arrive here? That’s crazy.”
“In truth, I’m conditioned to working for crazy people,” Adam sighed.
“Dear God, isn’t that the truth of it?” Heather said.
“So what are you proposing?” Adam asked.
“Work for me doing various rotating jobs. Become familiar with the boring operations and cubic finishing. Take a few turns at the cabbage mines and anything else that comes open. I bet you can service an electric cart or a lot of things that can go wrong with a rover. When you’ve done that for a couple months you will have enough experience to talk about living on the Moon convincingly and have a plausible background.
“Our neighbors in Marseille are engaged in an expansion to build a ship building facility. If you go over and inquire about work with a keen interest in better wages you might be able to get a job where you’d be able to collect useful information. If you can’t get a job right in their shipbuilding facility, perhaps you could find one in a support position where the workers would talk to you. Your preference for using your native tongue and culture can be given as a reason to want to transfer over.
“I have a few skills that a ship yard might use. If not, I’m an accomplished bartender. I’ve found that a really good bartender is as hard to find as a decent Systems Engineer.”
“See? I don’t have to tell you how to do this.” Heather said.
“I might be more exposed to France there than here,” Adam pointed out.
“I thought you didn’t want to be stuck in a boring desk job as a primary reason not to return to France? If you want a risk free boring desk job – how are you with spread sheets?” Heather asked brightly.
“No need to threaten me,” Adam said showing both palms to her in mock horror. “I’m with your program. No need to imprison me in a green work cubby with timed restroom breaks.”
“We aren’t that cruel,” Heather assured him. “But I think you would find your customary work more stimulating. Unlike your former employers I was very impressed that you managed to escape Mars. It’s a real snake pit, and I feel like I have to go wash my hands every time we do business with them.”
“It is, and when France refused to take me back in they threw away their best intelligence on Mars. I don’t think they know what’s really going on there yet. Your people obviously have better intelligence. Certainly more cost effective when you consider they pay billions of EuroMarks a year for intelligence.”
“You have to consider that they need to cover just about anything on Earth that could cause them problems, but we are interested in very little that doesn’t impact space directly. I would hope our intelligence in that much more limited area is better, but let’s keep it that way,” Heather commanded.

Chapter 25
“I’m going to go visit your father and see what conditions are like on the Moon. It’s bad enough your sister has effectively emancipated herself far too early by any decent standard, but you are far too young to leave here to run wild in the corridors and get in God only know what sort of trouble,” Linda Pennington said.
“Mother, you haven’t paid any attention to where I go or what I do during the day for a year. If I was disposed to get in trouble I would have, and you have been no restraint on me at all. There have been days I never came home from when I left the one G sleeping dorm until I went back. This isn’t Earth where you are going to be charged with a crime for not having me supervised constantly.
“They only reason the supervisor there hasn’t kicked me out is I’m naturally short. I’ve been right at the limit for the last couple months and cheat slouching down when they measure me. She has two beds empty and doesn’t need three slots not paying anything, when she knows I want to sleep there.”
“Nevertheless, I can’t risk it. If you do get in trouble when I am completely absent they will lay the blame on me for leaving you unsupervised I’m sure.”
“So it isn’t about me, as usual it’s about you. First of all, consider if you take me with you and this apartment is completely vacant Jeff might quite reasonably take it back. You need me here to maintain a façade of occupancy. Secondly, I promise you I won’t get in trouble. I’ve been doing a marvelous job of staying out of trouble for a year, on my own basically, and I’m not doing anything of which you’d be the least ashamed. You aren’t aware, but I have a lot of businesses that would be destroyed by going to the Moon with you. I’ve built them up until I’ve made six and seven Solars each of the last two months, and I’d have to start from scratch and need a couple years to build back up to that again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just a little boy and that’s more than a lot of men make,” his mother said, “professional men. It’s far more than I make working for a real established business.”
“Real business? That’s so Earth Think. Real because it has a government license, or stock, or a neon sign out front? Anything that makes money is a real business. It just grates you I make more than you. You never thought to ask your little boy how to make money, because what could he possibly know? You’re here, but your head is still stuck back on the Slum Ball, and I’m coming to doubt you’ll ever adapt to Home. It’s like you’re selectively blind to anything around you that’s too different or you don’t like.”
“So what are these big business deals you’re doing that can make so much money? Linda demanded. “I don’t see any way people would pay you that kind of money for anything honest.”
“I’m not going to tell you, because you’ll try to steal it just like you did with Lindsey’s stuff.”
Linda slapped him so hard he saw stars and his ears rang. He hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t even start to duck. He didn’t have to look in the mirror to know he was marked. She kept longer nails than spacers and when he felt his cheek it was swelling already and his hand came away dotted with blood. There was nothing left to say so he headed for the door. He needed to go see Jon in Security while his face testified to the hazard home had become. He’d ask to live with his sister or failing that some sort of guardian. But she grabbed him violently by the arm when he tried to go past, hurting him again.
“Mother, I’m short, but I outweigh you already and I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you. Please don’t make me fight past you to walk out the door, because I don’t want to hurt you.”
She looked shocked and then stepped back clearing the way. When he got to the door he looked back and she wasn’t even looking at him. She was still just staring off in the air where she’d stopped him.
* * *
“We don’t have any indication that France has changed the deal behind the scenes or diminished their support for Weir’s partners?” April asked.
“We haven’t seen any meetings in France again, but the one partner’s brother is still active in the French space program and hasn’t been demoted or anything. If they were out of favor you’d think it would have destroyed his brother’s standing in the agency. As far as I know there really isn’t any alternative group to carry the program forward for them. It’s pretty much press on with them or drop the whole idea. I’m not sure they aren’t simply encouraging the public nay sayers to stifle any competition, while quietly pushing ahead supporting it fully. The partners seem to be the only ones not discrediting it without advancing any alternatives.”
“So do you think this new ship they’re going to build will work?” April asked.
“I don’t have any idea,” Jeff said. “How can I when I don’t know why they failed the first time. We jumped out and turned around and did the same thing to come back. If it wasn’t going to work, my money would have been on it not working at all.
“I don’t have any idea what they are going to change. If they have a plan, good for them, because I wouldn’t know what to suggest. They haven’t even finished building the room for fabricating the modules in pressure or the sun shield and assembly area to put them together in vacuum. If they keep it in that shed until the last minute like last time, we won’t get to see any changes until they’re within days of trials. Assuming there are any visible changes. I know Heather said she is trying to get somebody on the inside, but that’s a long shot.
“I think I know one thing they’ll do differently,” April said. “Last time there was a firestorm of negative publicity and all sorts of denunciations in the popular press and from academics when they failed. I think maybe they will have learned from that and won’t make any big public announcements. If they made a big deal of it with press releases and a feed of them leaving and fail again, it’s going to be twice as bad. The no-risk mantra politicians might even rush a law through forbidding them from trying third time.”
“If they don’t think of it on their own maybe we should plant the idea,” Jeff said. “It sounds like something they’d take up with just a little nudge, and that would serve our purposes just fine if they hold off a generation or two and grant us a bigger head start.”
“That just seems wrong to me, but I can’t articulate why,” April admitted.
“Because you’re nicer than me?” Jeff asked.
“I’d never say that.”
“You see? You make my case for me,” Jeff laughed.
* * *
“I need to see Jon,” Eric insisted to the first person he saw in Security. It was an older lady. He’d seen her around but didn’t know her name. Theo reached out and grabbed him by the chin with unexpected strength, and turned his face up to her. It was totally unexpected and she looked so fierce it scared him for a second, before he figured out it wasn’t directed at him.
He was upset, but that wasn’t what had her attention. She turned his head, but gently, looking at the swollen red handprint and broken skin on his face. “You need to go to Medical,” she insisted.
“Not without talking to Jon,” Eric said, stubbornly. “Let me talk to Jon, and then I’ll go down to medical if you want me to.”
“Jon, call a cart and help me take this kid to the Clinic,” Theo called over her shoulder. “He’s as pig headed stubborn as you.”
Jon stuck his head out of the doorway ahead and ducked back, presumably to make the call. “It’s on the way,” he said when he returned, “good call because it’s closer to call a regular cart than make a round trip by the emergency cart.
“This is the young Mr. Pennington, this is my officer Theo, Eric,” Jon said.
“Anisocoria,” Theo said, touching first under one eye and then the other on her own face. Jon peered in Eric’s face intently, eyes scanning back and forth.
“Crap, you’re right. Call ahead and tell Doc Lee who we are bring in and what to expect. He put one huge paw on Eric’s shoulder and turned him around. Eric couldn’t have resisted, but he didn’t want to anyway. He’d come to see Jon and now he had his full attention, if not the way he wanted.
The cart was already visible when they went back in the corridor. Theo was still on the phone, and then complained about how slow the cart was.
“There’s no way to hurry it when it’s driverless,” Jon said. When it came to a stop the flashing yellow light went off. Jon and Theo hustled him onto the bench, a snug fit between them. Jon stuck his Mitsubishi ID in the slot on the dash and the strobe started up again, but blue, and brighter than before.
They made a sweeping U-turn and wove through a couple knots of pedestrians who couldn’t decide which way to dodge. Once past the cafeteria they had the open corridor in front of them, and Jon pushed it much harder. He hugged the wall away from the center kiosks and planters. There was one pedestrian in a long stretch and he scampered out of the way well ahead of their passing. Eric felt the wind in his hair. He had no idea a cart would go so fast.
Doc Lee was standing in the entry waiting when they came to a stop.
“Ah he’s moving good. That’s excellent. They went in past the reception desk to one side and straight into a treatment room with a couch set up as a recliner.
“I’d like to interview him while you treat him,” Jon requested.
“As long as you shut up if I need to ask him anything,” Lee agreed.
“Who did you get into a fight with?” Jon demanded.
“It wasn’t a fight. I never hit her. She slapped me. I begged her not to make me fight her to leave,” Eric protested.
Jon nodded to acknowledge that. “You’ve got a girlfriend now?”
Eric looked shocked at Jon’s assumption. “No! It was my mom. I’m not hurt that bad. It just stings a little.”
“Eric, your pupils are very different. One is tight and one wide open. Didn’t you notice anything?” Dr. Lee asked.
Eric closed one eye and then the other. “The left is kind of blurry. I was too upset over everything to notice much of anything.”
“Because she hit you?” Lee asked, waving an instrument with a screen slowly back and forth over across Eric’s head from ear to ear.
“No, yes, both - because she hit me, but I was already upset because we argued, and it’s all on top of… other trouble. She was pretty upset too.”
Doctor Lee’s eyebrows went up. “One assumed so. You have an arch of tiny hemorrhages on the side you got hit. I’d like to get them under control quickly. I’m no longer under the legal restraints I was with Earth law to get permission to treat you, although it was never applied to life critical emergency care. I can easily make that claim here, but you are old enough and smart enough I feel the need for your consent to treat you.”
“What happens if you don’t?” Eric asked.
“You may never feel any differently and heal on your own. It may however impair your thinking ability or subtly impair something like your hearing or your balance in ways that may or may not heal. If it doesn’t heal, then later is too late to fix it. At worst one of more of the tiny spots may keep bleeding and by the morning you could be in serious trouble. The fix then becomes much more invasive and difficult.”
“You’re talking about on my brain then,” Eric said, shocked.
“Exactly, you are suffering a concussion,” Lee said. “It’s too serious for me to say mild, but even lesser injuries than this, are cumulative and to be avoided.”
“Please, do whatever you can,” Eric asked. “I want to avoid losing any ability, but especially I don’t want to be stupid.”
“Turn you head away from me and don’t wiggle around,” Lee ordered. “I’d strap you down if I didn’t trust you to hold still. He wiped Eric’s neck with something cold and there was a hiss and more cold. He pressed an instrument in each hand against Eric’s neck.
“I’m using an imager to locate your artery and my needle, and I’m auto-injecting an agent into your artery that will act to cause clotting, but it’s sensitive to the chemical changes at the bleeding sites to do so there and not elsewhere. Continue to stay still because the auto-syringe is still injecting it slowly. This is faster than an I.V. I want you to stay here tonight and get scanned in an hour and then a couple more times tonight. I don’t have to wake you to do it. I can tell what is happening better by direct observation than interviewing you.
“I’ll like to report your treatment and condition to your parents. Is there anyone else you need to notify?” Lee asked.
“More than I want to ask you to do. Jon, take my pad off my belt please, and call for me. I want you to call my dad and sister, but not my mom. Not unless you can spare somebody to stay here with me and keep her away, because she’ll be right down here and giving everybody a hard time. Call the sleep barracks and tell the supervisor I won’t be in tonight but I’m sleeping in full G at the clinic. Then call all the numbers with a red star beside them and tell them I’m sick and they should take care of my business. They’ll know what to do. If you turn my pad off after that it will forward all my calls to them.”
“I’ll do that,” Jon promised, “and I’ll have Theo stay with you.”
Eric didn’t say anything, and the doctor hadn’t cleared him to move, but his eyes went to Theo behind Jon, and he looked dubious.
“By chance, when you walked in, you found the person I’d have charged with helping you anyway,” Jon assured him, “she’s helped other young people who had family problems, and she’s much tougher than she looks.”
“Just, keep my mother away,” he said, clearly looking at Theo.
“That’s not a problem,” Theo said.
“I’ll be staying here tonight too,” Dr. Lee said. “I don’t want to hand this off to the tech to do the scans and have to decide whether to wake me up or not. I’ve slept on a gurney lots of other times, and glad of it.”
“Thanks,” Eric said, and did a slow long blink.
“Are you getting sleepy?”
“Yeah, the whole thing was exhausting,” Eric admitted.
“Less than a minute and I can pull the needle,” Dr. Lee said. “Then if you drift off that’s fine. We’ll both be here in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Eric said, but his eyes were shut already. He didn’t seem to know when the syringe was pulled.
* * *
“Mr. Pennington I’m glad I caught you before you went to bed and didn’t have to wake you up. I don’t think you need to be alarmed, but your boy Eric suffered a concussion and other slight but visible injuries. Dr. Lee at our clinic is treating him and he’s sleeping quietly and being monitored through the night. If you call Dr. Lee in the morning he can give you an update.”
“Are you there at the clinic?” Mo asked.
“Yes, but not in his treatment room now, I might waken him calling. I brought him here along with one of my officers. Eric gave me his pad before he went to sleep and asked me to call you and his sister. Also he had a number of contacts marked off to leave messages and inform them to take care of business interests for him. I called you first and am going to call his sister Lindsey next, then the sleep barracks and work through the business contacts before I leave the clinic. I’m going to leave my security officer here with him and Dr. Lee.”
“Mr. Davis, is my boy under guard? Is he in some sort of trouble?”
“Not at all. Theo is here for his protection,” Jon assured him.
“Is my wife there too? No offense to you, but I’d rather hear from a family member what is going on than from Security,” Mo said.
“Your wife is not here,” Jon said. “Eventually I’m going to have to interview her. This is difficult to tell you, but according to Eric it was his mother who struck him in the midst of an argument. I can’t really confirm that beyond Eric’s claim, but somebody struck him because he has a handprint, swelling and minor lacerations on his face as clear as anything.
“My officers and I all run personal video recording on duty so I have documentation of the whole process that brought him here. Eric came to my offices and didn’t seem aware of the extent of his injuries. We brought him straight here to seek treatment since my officer noted his pupils were radically different in dilation. That’s a common sign of a brain injury. That took first priority over continuing to question him further or go interview your wife.
“Even if it all turns out to be true I don’t see your wife being a danger to others. Domestic situations rarely are a hazard that way, unless there is extended family such as in-laws. When I call your daughter I will advise her to continue to avoid contact with her mother, in case the same issues and responses repeat.”
There was a prolonged silence on the phone, and Jon was starting to wish Mo had enabled it as a video call.
“Do I need to come there?” Mo finally asked. “It would be very difficult right now. I hadn’t even intended to take my next leave back on Home. This is all the more of a surprise because my wife recently indicated she’d come visit here and inspect my circumstances on the Moon. I had hopes she’d finally consent to move here and the whole family… situation would improve.”
“Honestly, I can’t see any advantage to you being present. I haven’t looked into what will have to be done for Eric yet, simply because there has not been any time to do so. He’s only been treated and asleep for about a half hour. I’ll worry about all that in the morning. His sister may be able to help in that regard, and if not, I have all the resources needed for a few days. Even if you end up needing to be the custodial parent again, it would make more sense to send him to you than to make you return to pick him up and escort him.”
Mo must have sighed right into the pickup. It was a loud >woosh< of air.
“You may regard this as cowardly,” Mo said, “but I’m going to bed, and I’m not going to call my wife. If I do I don’t expect to get any sleep or be able to work tomorrow. She’s never been abusive with our children, but Eric has always been truthful, if anything, excessively truthful. You might imagine this is difficult to hear and sort out from far away and I apologize if I still carry a little Earth Think distrust of authority. I didn’t mean to offend you. I thank you for your care of my son, and I’ll similarly trust you to call Lindsey as Eric requested. Until tomorrow some time, good night.”
“Thank you Mr. Pennington. I’m not in a hurry to accuse anyone or take action against your wife. Matters may resolve without needing to do anything like involve the Assembly. I’ll keep Eric safe,” Jon promised, and terminated the call.
* * *
“I didn’t see this coming at all,” Jeff said. “Weir’s partners have paid to have four assembled modules lifted to LEO with unmanned reusable vertical lift vehicles out of Guiana. They had them all built and apparently the facility at Marseille is not so much a fabricating facility as an assembly, port, and service facility. I imagine they will get pushed by a construction tug into a lunar orbit and brought down. I’m not exactly sure how, but that part isn’t terribly hard.”
“Maybe they will build a second or third generation ship there when they aren’t in such a hurry,” April speculated. “Just because you aren’t all that hot to bask in the glory of being first doesn’t mean others don’t crave it.”
“This means they might have them all assembled and ready to do trials in three or four weeks,” Jeff said.
“Well it doesn’t really matter to us does it?” April said. “We figured they’d try again whether it was a matter of months or years. We’ll just keep doing our own thing. I still think when they get out there and find out we were there already you will get your credit, even if it is belated.”
Jeff looked up sharply. “You said that before, and I agree but I didn’t really think about it. When that happens I bet it really pisses them off too.”
“Well of course,” April agreed, “everything does.”

Chapter 26
April went to the door to get their order. The Fox and Hare didn’t actively seek carry-out orders, but when one of the owners asked for take-away they tried to accommodate them. It was in her own self interest to not over stress the kitchen, so she always framed her request in terms of if they had time to make it, and no deadline on delivery. The Mitsubishi cafeteria had good basic food, but if you wanted a tray of fancy appetizers to nibble on late in the evening with wine they couldn’t really do much for you even as a special order. Maybe crudités, but you weren’t going to get them cut in whimsical shapes or paired with exotic sauces.
Neither did she take advantage of the privilege too often since they refused to charge the owners. That would never have worked if they had a huge number of owners, but so far none of the five owners abused their privilege enough to affect operations.
When the door chimed and April answered it she just stared for a second surprised, because it wasn’t Eric. Eric Pennington made a point of personally serving them as a courier whenever they sent a text for delivery. April and Jeff were on his short list of people with whom he had other business he gave premium service.
“Your food order ma’am?” the boy asked tentatively when April seemed to find his presence mystifying.
“I’m sorry,” April said. “I was expecting the order. I’m just so used to Eric delivering to us I expected him when I opened the door. You’re Iaan Wilson aren’t you? Matt Wilson’s boy.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know I’ve grown pretty fast since we shared a shuttle ride that time. If you have a hard time recognizing me you should see my little sister. She’s doing a good job catching up to me.
April nodded acceptance of the update and took the foam handle-box from his hand. “Is your dad doing OK? I’ve seen him with the other writer, Ben Patsitsas, and the older guys that hang out by the coffee pots in the morning and talk. I mean, is Molly Wilson doing OK? I don’t really read romance myself to follow him.
That made Iaan smile. “Molly is doing just fine. He’s been trying to get me to start writing too. He said it beats having to work for an honest living, and even suggested I could use Martha Wilson for my pen name. I find it more likely my sister Jenifer will be the writer. I’m not sure what I’ll do, but Eric treats me just fine for pocket money right now. Jon Davis sent me a text earlier and said Eric is in the clinic and I should take his courier orders. I’ve done that before when he was tied up. You’re on the short list of special customers he’s instructed me to try to accommodate any way I could. So, if I can do anything else for you?”
April took that for a clue he’d rather finish up his task and not keep chatting with what was probably an older person to him. He could even have other deliveries to make.
“Not tonight, thanks. Here’s a little extra for your trouble,” she said and gave him two bits. Eric didn’t take tips because he was the owner. Not so Iaan.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and headed down the corridor at a trot.
April was alarmed, not so much that Eric was at the clinic, but that Jon had called Iaan to tell him. Why was Jon involved? Home was pretty safe and Eric didn’t deliver in vacuum or anywhere that accidents would be likely. She took the food in and put it on the table in front of Jeff and described the encounter to him.
“I’m going to check my tipsters and see if anybody told me what happened,” April told him. She had an informal net of spies, forwarding reports of anything they thought unusual or of interest to her. Nothing had enough key words to make it alert her this evening, but she hadn’t ever thought to link Eric with any of the proper key works like accident or clinic.
“Wow, I have notices from five people that Jon told them Eric is in the clinic and they have to mind Eric’s business for him. That’s quite the little business empire he’s built up there,” April said, impressed.
Jeff swallowed and paused attacking the appetizers long enough to comment.
“Apparently Jon did not think to tell these people Eric’s medical issues were confidential and not to be offered up as commercial intelligence. Also your net of informants and Eric’s partners might not overlap perfectly, so there may even be a few who didn’t send you a report.”
“Well he might have said something to limit them, because not one of them said why Eric is in the clinic. I’m a little worried,” April admitted.
“Call Dr. Lee and ask him,” Jeff suggested.
“I can see why you hire out your spying,” April said. “Open and earnest inquiries usually just tell people there is more information loose in the wild than they ever intended, and make them clam up and shut it down. I don’t know Mo well enough on a personal level to ask him, and I sure don’t want to talk to Eric’s mom about anything.
“I’ll text Lindsey and ask her what’s going on. I’m pretty sure she’ll at least credit me with genuine concern. I think she knows I like Eric. I’ve even getting to like her pretty well. She treats me really well and I have no idea why I felt stand-offish with her for so long.”
“Because she treats you too well, and you have never graciously accepted the adoration of your public,” Jeff said. “If Heather and I hadn’t known you from before you were a public figure you might never have accepted us.”
April didn’t reply, because she was afraid he was right.
* * *
“I know, I know, it’s a mess,” Lindsey said, she was visibly upset. Freaked out might be a fair expression. “Jon called me right after my dad, and told me. He said there was no point in trying to go see him or bother Dr. Lee until tomorrow. I don’t want to call my dad because Jon said he was going to bed. I’m upset and want to do something, but there’s nothing to be done right now.”
“But how did he get hurt?” April asked.
Lindsey looked surprised at that, and then just started to cry.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just really concerned for Eric. I’ll go rather than keep upsetting you,” April said.
Lindsey shook her head no, and held hand up palm to April, giving it a quick negating shake. She took a deep breath and held up a single restraining digit before she disappeared off screen.
Diana came back instead of Lindsey.
“Jon didn’t talk to you?” Diana asked.
“No, Iaan Wilson showed up just a little bit ago and when I was surprised it wasn’t Eric as usual he told me Eric was in the clinic. It worried me. I’m sorry I upset Lindsey so. I just wondered, what happened?” She didn’t reveal she knew Jon was Iaan’s source.
Diana’s face was all stormy. Then Sylvia appeared, looking over her shoulder.
“It was their mom,” Diana said, disgusted.
It was so far outside her experience it was a non sequitur, and April didn’t get what she meant for a moment. It showed in her confused expression.
“She beat him up,” Sylvia said from behind.
“Well, supposedly she hit him once,” Diana allowed. “But when you put somebody in Medical with a concussion you don’t get any points just because you didn’t keep beating on them.”
April didn’t have to feign surprise. Her mouth was hanging open in shock.
“That’s going to complicate… ” April started to say, but it was too much to say all the ways it would complicate things for the whole family. That was on top of the other problems they already knew about. “What a mess,” she said instead.
“Indeed, the… woman,” Sylvia said, and glanced away, probably cutting off the word she’d intended for Lindsey’s sake, “has been difficult. This is just plain criminal.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” April said. “Now that I know I’m going to butt out and let Jon and Mo deal with it. But if Eric needs anything let me know.”
“Thank you,” came from off camera in Lindsey’s voice before April disconnected, so she’d been listening.
* * *
“The French cobbled together a specialized vehicle for bringing the sections of their ship down from lunar orbit,” Jeff said. “It has all the grace of a wrought iron plant stand or a patio table with the glass removed, and a small fuel tank and engine on each leg. It isn’t lovely but it’s cheap and does the job so far. They have two sections down and fastened together. They aren’t even bothering putting up any privacy panels around the sun screen, but I still can’t tell much because they are using foil wraps on a lot of their gear.”
“Do they have enough fuel this soon to go again?” April wondered.
“If they didn’t, why push to do this using more expensive techniques?” Jeff asked. “They haven’t stopped asking Heather to supply He3 for pretty hefty fees. If they didn’t need it you’d think they’d ask to terminate that arrangement. Maybe they are getting enough from the prototype of this mysterious process they claim to make up the balance of what Central and Marseille produces.”
“I wish there was some way we could watch and see if they make it,” April said, “but it’s the same thing again of not having sensors up to the distances involved. We could both leave at the same time and arrive so far apart neither could find the other.”
“And rescue them if they get in trouble?” Jeff asked.
“Of course, if they needed it.”
Jeff kindly didn’t remind her she had a rescue complex.
“Have you given any more thought to where James Weir’s ship went if they didn’t end up at Alpha Centauri?” April asked.
“Yes, but understand, I’m not this great theoretical thinker who comes up with new radical ideas. I see bits and pieces other people made and sometimes connect them into something useful. Right now, my best guess is they just ceased to exist. The ship and everything in it was one big virtual particle, and it just went back into the vacuum energy of our universe.”
“I don’t like that explanation,” April said.
“Why?” Jeff asked. Sometimes April expressed very insightful ideas on complex things in non-technical terms. He expected some comment on how she saw their universe.
“Because it might happen to us!”
* * *
“What have you done?” Mo asked his wife Linda when she answered the com the next morning. She looked totally confused and surprised, not at all guilty as he’d expected.
It wasn’t like Mo to be so confrontational and it scared her a little, and put her in defensive mode. “I have no idea what you mean.” It seemed sincere.
“Hasn’t Jon Davis called you or left a text?” Mo asked.
“No, nobody has called me this morning but you,” Linda said.
“I suppose he’s waiting to talk to Dr. Lee before he talks to you,” Mo guessed.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Linda assured him.
“Eric had to be taken to the clinic yesterday. His pupils were different sizes and it alarmed one of Jon’s officers. She was right, there was an injury. He had a concussion and showed pinpoint bleeding on scan. They treated him and held him overnight. I have to call and see how he is doing, but I decided I wanted to call you first and hear an explanation, if you have one, for hitting him that hard.”
“That’s ridiculous. We argued, and he got smart with me. I slapped him once. He must have run and complained right away. He probably thinks he can use this to leave and live independently just like Lindsey has. Of course you and Jon would think that’s just fine, and this makes a good excuse. Did you OK them treating him? Because nobody called me, I’d have stopped that foolishness dead cold and taken him back home.”
“You’d have refused treatment?” Mo asked. The look on his face went right over Linda’s head, because she was in righteous outrage mode.
“It was a slap,” she said. “I didn’t hit him over the head with a pipe. Jon obviously told the doctor what he needed to be found. We argued because he didn’t want to come with me to the Moon. He had some ridiculous story he was making far more money than any child could make and didn’t want to come because he’d lose all his business arrangements. I called him on it, and asked him what he was doing to make all this money, and he refused to tell me.”
“You slapped him because he refused to reveal what his businesses are to you?” Mo asked.
“Well, no,” Linda said, “he said he wouldn’t tell me because I’d try to steal them just like Lindsey’s stuff. That was the insulting part.”
“Did you intend to?” Mo asked.
For the first time Linda realized how badly this was going. Her mouth dropped open in shock, but then she recovered. “I can’t steal from them,” she insisted, angry again. “As long as they are children they can’t own anything but what we let them. What’s theirs is ours until they are adults,” she insisted.
“I’ll take that for a yes,” Mo said.
“It wouldn’t be a problem if he would have just done what I told him. Will you tell him he has to come to the Moon with me?” Linda asked. “Perhaps he’ll listen to you. I have not been seeing much of him during the day, but I can’t just leave him behind with no supervision. Somebody will notice and say we’re unfit parents. Maybe I wouldn’t have all this trouble with them if you were here exerting a firm hand.”
“Yes, that possible,” Mo agreed. “Although we may not agree on whom the firm hand would be applied. As far as coming to the Moon, that ship has sailed. The offer is withdrawn given the present circumstances. If you can’t accept how things are different on Home I doubt Central would be more acceptable. We have effectively been separated since I came to the Moon. I no longer want you to join me or have further opportunity to abuse the children. I’ll publish on Home that we are no longer married, and inquire how to grant the children emancipation as soon as possible, if they don’t want to come join me. I’m so sorry it couldn’t work out. I’ve tried and tried, and I’m too tired to keep trying.”
Linda opened her mouth to make a rebuttal, but she was looking at a blank screen. It didn’t care what she said at all.
* * *
“I see, I understand, and you have my condolences,” Jon said.
Mo was nonplussed for a moment. He’d never heard that expression used for anything but a death, but something precious had died. It seemed appropriate.
“I don’t have a lot of powers granted by the assembly for family interventions and juvenile care,” Jon explained. So far everything I’ve done with other children has been ad hoc and I counted on the Assembly for forgiveness if I offend public sensibilities. If you’d express what you want done, even though you don’t seem to be the custodial parent, it would go a long way toward establishing my authority to act, or gaining forgiveness later. After Eric’s injury I can make a good case Linda is not a fit parent, so your wishes now have a stronger case made for them. So tell me, what is your will in the matter?”
“I don’t want either of the children to be forced to join me on the Moon. If they want to I’d welcome them here, either to live with me or to visit. It is still a very limited society here for children, much more so even than Home. I work long hours and my attention for them would frankly be less than they would get from other mentors on Home, if volunteers exist.
“Lindsey is happy living with Sylvia Anderson and she’s learning more about the arts and marketing from her. She’s making enough to be self supporting and one may hope that when the housing market gets a little better she may be able to afford her own place, if those two get tired of each other.
“I have my doubts Eric is ready to be totally independent. Linda intimated Eric is doing very well financially, but I spend very little of my wages here, and would be happy to help support him there if that is needed. That’s supposing anyone wants to invest the time and energy to mentor him.
“What do you suggest?” Mo asked. “After I publish our divorce I can’t expect Jeff Singh to keep supplying a very expensive apartment to my ex-wife, and I’ve known for some months that Eric is getting too old, and more importantly too big, to need to sleep in the full G barracks at night.”
“Give me a couple days to talk to people,” Jon asked. “I don’t want our department to become automatically responsible for being in loco parentis for any minors on Home. At most, I’m willing for Security to monitor voluntary guardians because I have an officer with experience and an interest in doing that well. She has taken a child in need into her home before, but I hate to let that become a given, and due to some other circumstances it isn’t possible this time.
“I don’t want to build up a long list of rules, because when there are enough rules someone will do something stupid rather than break the rules. I want people who can think and be flexible to do what is needed. It isn’t like we are dealing with delinquents here who need close restraining supervision. I don’t know what we’ll do if we are ever faced with that problem.
“We also still have a pretty benign environment on Home. I know people well enough to be able to pick someone who will have genuine concern for the welfare of anyone we entrust them with. It’s still safe for a child to walk the corridors. It isn’t the problem placing kids on Earth would be.
“If I can find somebody to provide a place to sleep and some guidance, preferably several people, then I have no objection to your allowing your minor son to reside on Home until he can be voted his adult status. I’d defend your choice against any accusations of neglect, particularly from your ex. As far as I’m concerned she has no standing to make that complaint anymore, and I’ll say so and why before the Assembly. I already regard Lindsey as being an adult and the wait now, until that can be legally acknowledged is just a formality.”
“OK,” Mo agreed, “I’m going to call Dr. Lee and if he has no objection, explain what is planned to Eric, unless Lee doesn’t want to upset him for medical reasons. Then I’ll call Lindsey and fill her in. Call me or leave a text whenever you have anything arranged,” Mo said. He felt it was in good hands with Jon.

Chapter 27
“We’ve gotten a much better return up here than lower on the stream,” Eileen said. “We got almost a quarter ounce here last Sunday. Why don’t we skip a hundred meters or so upstream the next couple times we set up, to see if it’s worth the extra travel to work there? It might be closer to wherever the gold is weathering out and give us a better yield. We might even find a place worth dry dirt mining.”
“I’ll have to show you my property map,” Vic said, frowning. He took the opportunity to stop working the rocker for a little. “This is near the uphill limit of my land. If we leave traces up there showing where we worked, somebody might contest our rightful possession of the gold. I’m not sure of the owner. It’s never been developed. It’s not like we have any way to register mining claims with North America, and I’m not sure what if anything will do for semi-autonomous areas. I’m not sure there is any authority that would care. But I’d like to play it safe and stay on my own land.”
“Why not claim it by adverse possession?” Eileen asked.
“How did you even come to know that term?” Vic asked.
“My dad and grandfather talked about doing it quite a bit sitting around snowed in last winter. They were planning on cutting trees in a path up the hill and claiming at least to the top, and then cutting a line each way to establish a boundary. Seems to me we could stack up stone markers easier, since upstream of here is pretty rocky.”
“I remember hearing about local cases of adverse possession back before The Day. It got so the timber companies had to do an aerial survey every couple years to keep people from claiming land that way. One element of it was that possession had to be notorious. If you got your mail there and had packages delivered for example. You couldn’t just hide a camp out in their woods and all of a sudden pop up claiming it. Not sure how we could do that with no mail and no UPS. I remember one family proved how long they had lived there with pictures of their cars and license plates matched to DMV records. We haven’t had any new plates in awhile either,” Vic said and grinned.
“They have a big bulletin board at Mr. Mast’s Barn, and folks post news and stuff for sale there, even between festivals. I know, because I read the dates on a lot of them. That would be pretty public. Maybe if you pass word along they will make a short announcement in the evening radio message,” Eileen suggested.
“I’m sure they would if I pay,” Vic said. “It bears thinking on some more.”
Eileen shut up. From Vic that was almost an exuberant endorsement, and pushing for an immediate commitment would just irritate him now.
* * *
April got a call before coffee. She wasn’t expecting Gunny and Lindsey on a split screen. She wasn’t even aware Gunny wasn’t in his room, but the background was wrong for that.
“I think we have things sorted out for Eric,” Lindsey said, “at least for the immediate future. He can stay here with Sylvia and me, where Diana is now. That lets us still see each other, more actually than we were living with my mom.”
“Where is Diana going?” April asked. “Back home to Hawaii?”
“She’s going to rent Jeff’s cubic from him,” she said, “with the lotto now she has enough income to rent it from him.” She cued Gunny to speak with a glance.
“I’m going to be staying with Diana most of the time,” Gunny said, “which means we’ll have a guest room there if Eric needs it. Lindsey’s old room actually. That means my room with you will be empty more often than usual.”
“That’s where you come in,” Lindsey said. “You asked if there was anything you could do. We’d like you for another layer of backup, so if they all decide to go off to New Las Vegas again or something, he can stay in Gunny’s room.”
“That’s fine with me,” Gunny said. “He won’t mess with my stuff.”
“Sure, why should I have peace and quiet, or privacy, when I could host a teenage boy?” April asked. “I can be on call to keep him if Gunny trusts him, but Eric and I will still have to have a little talk-talk about the house rules and what I consider civilized behavior.”
“We’ll tell him, in exactly those words,” Lindsey promised.
“I’m kind of surprised,” April said. “I thought when it was all sorted out Theo would take him, just like she took in my friend Doris before, when Jon needed to shelter her.”
“This all happened right when Theo decided to finally go have the full course of Life Extension done, and she doesn’t want to drop her appointment, or redo the duty schedule for Security, that’s been moved all around to give her a week off.”
That surprised April too. Theo was rumored to have money, yet hadn’t sought LE Therapy for years now. She was one of the few remaining people who looked old on Home. Pretty soon if a kid wanted to know how naturally old people look they’d have to see pictures or go down to Earth.
“How does Eric feel about this? Is he upset at the idea he can be shuffled around to whoever can take him in?” April worried.
“April, he knows he has a room at Sylvia’s, but he just knew we were arranging other backups until we had a solid plan to tell him. He has a really good attitude about it. He said he didn’t know that many people cared about him. Maybe that’s good for him to have demonstrated. It made a world of difference to me to know other people cared about me,” Lindsey said.
* * *
Linda Pennington got off the com with Jeff and sat considering what she would do without the apartment. Staying here and living out of a storage locker and sleeping in hot slots was a non-starter and a dead-end trap. If she went back to Earth without her children or a husband she’d have little choice but to go on negative tax, and that had gotten progressively stingier.
They put singles in accommodations like barracks now, especially in the South where so many had migrated. They issued clothing that shouted what you were to people, and imposed tight rules about coming and going, because negative tax people weren’t really welcome out in the community.
She had her degree, but the reality was in North America government was shedding compliance people instead of hiring. The laws hadn’t changed, but in order to compete with Texas, they simply weren’t supporting the mechanisms to enforce regulations except where they needed to protect favored industries.
They weren’t supposed to hold her long absence from the work force against her, but she had no illusions about the reality of that. If a manager didn’t want to hire you there were plenty of legal reasons to use to reject you.
If she went back to Earth it was a one way trip. It cost a lot more to come up than go back. That didn’t seem fair to her, and the reality of physics making that so, didn’t matter to her. Once you made it to any hab then traveling between them or to the Moon was fairly cheap.
Mo had described Central as chronically short of workers and everybody made enough to buy LET eventually. It was even a little cheaper on the Moon. If she went to the Moon instead of back to Earth she’s at least have some options. She’d been intending to go check it out and consider moving there anyway before all this brouhaha with Eric. It was hard to go there blind, but better than any other option she could see. If it didn’t work out she suspected they would have to pay her way back to Home or maybe even the Earth to be rid of her. She wasn’t sure if Jon would do that if push came to shove and could hardly ask outright.
No, she didn’t really want to go on to the Moon, but she’d give notice at work for the end of the week, because that’s how long Jeff gave her to move out. There was no point in arguing and trying to stay when everybody was against her. She’d have to apologize for the short notice, but explain she was losing her place to live. So after all this time of resisting Mo, and putting off going to visit the Moon, she’d do it on her own anyway. She smiled. Won’t he be surprised?
* * *
Adam Fallat touched the taster pad that would sample his DNA and enter it in the company archives. Everything else Heather’s people provided as an identity worked just fine, but there was no falsifying this. Oh, there were work-arounds that would allow you to spoof a system once to gain entry. One could dip your hand in a solution that would dry to form a thin matte finish film that was almost impossible to detect visually. You simply applied a coating of the DNA you wished the system to detect and you could spoof another’s identity easily.
To maintain such an illusion everyday would eventually fail. The film was too delicate to avoid being breached by abrasion and weakened by common cleaning agents. Besides which one would need a substantial supply of the genetic material that was being substituted. Just a full day of working a keyboard could put the method at risk. Working with tools and objects with sharp edges and rough textures as an instrument repairman would destroy it for sure. Shaking hands with someone was enough to introduce false positives, and if an agency was doing an actual identity check, instead of using the data to open a door or give access to a computer, they would spray your hands with an agent that striped off all the genetic material picked up by casual contact.
What he was counting on was that the French agency, the CPO, shielded the handful of agents they ran from such detection at a much higher level than your common run of the mill spy. They didn’t keep records of their high end agents’ genetic makeup on the theory that that which they don’t have can’t be stolen. In addition they ruthlessly eliminated such records from not only public sources, but even the other branches of the French security apparatus. An action the other branches would be quite upset over if they knew.
The Martians certainly had his DNA code. He was protected on that count by both the paranoid nature of the Martians and the fact their security apparatus was so small only three or four people would have access to their catalog of genetic signatures. The only avenue of failure he worried about was the fact he knew France had another agent on Mars. If in the course of gathering intelligence the other agent might have harvested the Martians data base he would be in it. If they had, he was going to find that out very quickly now.
When he touched the board he counted off mentally two seconds for Marseille to inquire of their French allies, perhaps a second for their Earth based systems to peruse the records, and two seconds for the results to get back to the Moon. When the Resources in People drone sitting opposite him didn’t frown or alert on any red flags coming up on his screen Adam relaxed a little. The rest of his interview went flawlessly. He was promised an answer in the morning but he was entirely confident from the manner of the interviewer, and the way he started speaking about the specifics of the job.
He was certain he had the job locked down unless something went bad, like his identity failing to match some point of the one Heather gave him, or insulting the man’s mother. It just reinforced his surprise and discomfort that these Centralists knew he worked for the French, knew there were aliens, and then they supplied an identity within three days which was as detailed and deep as any a national intelligence agency on Earth would assemble.
It appeared from his interview that the job he was applying for might not involve working on the new ship they were assembling at all. Rather it would be for servicing that ship if it successfully returned, or aiding the construction of other similar vessels. The systems on this initial vessel appeared to be already in place and configured when it was lifted from Earth.
That might disappoint Heather and her people who were hoping for immediate intelligence, but it was a foot in the door. It was the nature of the craft to require patience in penetrating another organization. Indeed, it might require years for an agent to follow the normal course of advancement until he was given access to really useful information. That had certainly been the case with his own assignment on Mars. He considered it a good start actually, and it was his nature both by training and personality to patiently take the long view. He was entirely capable of not only performing his cover job as a matter of necessity, but honestly taking satisfaction from doing it well. He shook hands with his interviewer and the man said he’d contact him before breakfast in the morning.
Dakota, Heather’s assistant and secretary had slipped and mentioned a name, Chen, when Heather asked for his identity dossier. He’d seen Heather’s eyes flicker to Dakota and then relax. He was pretty sure Dakota was going to hear about her breach later, but saying anything right then would have just reinforced his perception that it was a name to remember. On Earth such a slip might have resulted in a demotion from access to sensitive material, but he realized Central had a limited supply of personnel to dismiss any easily, and the sovereign seemed to have a personal relationship with her secretary. That seemed a weakness, but it was as these English speakers said, ‘above his pay grade’ for him to concern himself with it. Since he didn’t have access to any resources but what they provided at the moment, he’d just have to file it away as one of those things he’d like to know in the long term, with a heavy dose of caution. He suspected too much interest in this ‘Chen’ could be hazardous to his health. Anyone who could supply this complete of an identity on such short notice very likely had robust safeguards in place to identify anyone making unwanted inquiries about him or his networks and principals. Such a man didn’t fall from the sky yesterday.
They also provided him with a Central girlfriend as a cover reason to occasionally visit instead of relying on awkward dead drops or transmissions that might be intercepted. The young lady worked in accounting and would be sending him regular messages and expressions of endearment. Adam was a little uncomfortable having a non-professional assume a part time role as a handler. When he asked, he was told that yes, she was a real person who did that actual job. But then who was he to argue with the obvious success of their methods? He’d joined himself to them, and as his mother would have said, ‘The carrots are cooked.’ One could not uncook them, and he must live with the results now.
Sitting in his room that evening at Marseilles, thinking about the way the three interviewed him when he arrived from Mars, he had to reassess everything. He had fixated on Heather as the power too early, impressed with her being a sovereign. April took the initiative over Heather to interview him, and even offered to put it off it he wished without consulting Heather, Jeff too spoke right up without asking Heather’s leave to speak. When April said they were equals he’d simply discounted it. But looking back he was sure each had their own prerogatives and Heather’s authority as sovereign didn’t override everything like he imagined.
Yes, Heather had been the one to offer him his freedom with almost contempt at his effort to bargain with them, and a sum of money to make it reality that was more than he’d have ever asked for. But Jeff was far the most arrogant of the three, revealing facts casually that Adam would have never given away except piece by piece in exchange for information of at least equal value.
So Heather did have authority, an authority that seemed superior to him, but didn’t seem to matter all that much between them. She didn’t exercise it just to make a show of having power, And Jeff had authority too, and he wielded it almost unaware he was doing so and a bit recklessly. April however was the one he decided should be watched closest of the three. She offered to alter his situation with soft words and quiet kindness that somehow managed to hide the fact she knew neither of her companions would dare gainsay her until he’d thought deeper on it later.
Heather was obviously the executive, and Jeff was their technical person and innovator, but they both deferred to April to start the interview, and when they were through she was the only one of them for whom he was at a loss to define what her duties and position in the triad was. Her deliberate lack of use of any forceful projection to intimidate him reminded him uncomfortably of several master spies and interrogators he’d met. That might be part of what she did for the three, but he wouldn’t bet that was the end of it.
Adam noticed that of the three, she had been the only one to wear a visible weapon. She never touched it or even felt with her elbow to assure herself of it, but neither did she ever position herself where she could not draw, or where she did not have a safe line of fire to defend her friends. It was strange, because of the three she now seemed the most dangerous, but the one he was sure would feel just terrible about it if she had to gun him down.
* * *
“The French have finished assembling their ship at the lunar Marseille, and have launched it into orbit. They didn’t announce anything publicly and only named the ship to traffic control when asked as “Inutile de discuter”. It’s a really odd ship name, Chen told the Three. “And the pilot is an unknown to me.”
“What does that mean?” April asked.
“I asked a couple of my people. It was translated for me as, ‘It’s pointless to argue’, Chen said. It seems a truism, but argue about what, and with whom?”
“I suspect that for a snarky comment,” Heather said. “It may even be a falsehood that was substituted for a valid ship’s name for now.”
“Well, I’m not sure that can be a crime,” Chen said. “One can after all rename one’s ship at will. But what would be the purpose?”
“I believe they are quite irritated at all the lies and negative press surrounding their first ship. I’m guessing that was their way of implying that they are going to show the world instead of debating the matter,” Heather said.
“I rather like it,” Jeff said.
“You would. When you run out of gods and their toys it wouldn’t surprise me to see you name a ship after an entire poem,” April said.
“The Chinese come near doing that,” Jeff said in his defense.
“You said it went into orbit,” April said, “but where did it declare as a destination when they asked traffic control for clearance?”
Chen looked down and consulted something. “They asked for clearance to orbit and uncontrolled space,” he reported. “One other thing, it’s a lot bigger ship than before.”
Jeff looked astonished with a realization. “They aren’t going to do any shake-down flights at all. They’re going straight for a system exit.”
“Well isn’t that interesting?” April asked. “And we have nothing in place to have a good look at it leaving.”
“You said they’d avoid publicity this time,” Heather said. “But this is almost secretive,” she said in an accusing tone.
“I guess they have been studying how you folks do it,” Chen said, smiling.
What could they say? It was true.
* * *
Herman Bellinger thought his heart would burst from his chest when he keyed the command and the star speckled heavens changed in an instant to show him an alien sun dead ahead. This was everything he’d dreamed about since he was about eight years old. Outwardly he gave no sign it was anything more unusual than if they were approaching an everyday docking at the Turnip. The autopilot cut the drive as planned, until they observed things.
“Well, we’ve certainly arrived somewhere,” he informed his backup pilot and navigator. “Mr. Baudin, would you confirm that is Alpha Centauri please?”
“Working,” Baudin said, because if he didn’t Bellinger would ask if he’d heard him in just a few seconds. He regarded his captain as a bit of a pain in the butt and a very cold fish, unaware of his internal passions.
“Spectroscopic analysis confirms Alpha,” Baudin said, less than a minute later. “Our distance from the star is two hundred forty million kilometers by the image it subtends and astronomical data. We aren’t too deep in the star’s gravity well to climb back out.” That had been a real concern.
“Starting our search for planetary bodies. I’m taking wide sky images and will be ready to roll over in three minutes.” He let the machine work and when it showed done he informed Bellinger.
Immediately the captain had the ship do an auto rotate, smoother than a human pilot could do and less time consuming. When it was pointed back the way they’d entered he captured one more wide angle image before they started a new burn. That only took a half minute before he released Bellinger to resume acceleration. There would have been enough motion and vibration under thrust to spoil the finer details of a sky survey.
When the drive came back on it ramped up as a concession to human comfort, and for safety in case anything was floating loose so that it didn’t become an internal projectile.
Still, it kept building until it ran steadily at a little more than three and a half Gs. That was where it needed to operate for efficiency so they had sufficient fuel to return, with a safety margin. It was brutal after awhile, but they’d endured it before to get here.
“What is that bright object near dead ahead?” Bellinger asked, voice distorted by the heavy acceleration. “There wasn’t a star of that magnitude listed in what our return sky would look like. It has to be a local object.”
“Checking my sky shots,” Baudin said. He didn’t appreciate being made to talk. It was extra effort on top of an already exhausting ordeal. Both of them tended to abbreviated statements “The object was not large enough to show a disk from our start point. It has to be local and must have a very high albedo. It’s two degrees off our course and diverging slightly already, so it’s not a collision hazard. No range estimate possible.”
“Thanks,” Bellinger grunted.

Chapter 28
Waiting for the French ship to come back was nerve racking. April understood now, better than the first time when the Pedro Escobar vanished, that if they didn’t come back, finding them by going to the Centauri system was unlikely to be successful. They just didn’t have the needed equipment to search and communicate across the scale of a star system. The success of the French mission wouldn’t be any benefit for them, but April couldn’t find it in her heart to wish them ill, and see another ship lost.
They all three kept busy, but there was no casual chatter and everyone’s thoughts returned to the ship frequently.
“Jeff, they can’t jump around inside a system like us, so what kind of a mission profile do you think they will follow?” April asked.
“Jump in, take a couple pix to prove they were there, turn around and come back home as soon as possible,” he said.
“They won’t leave markers?” April asked.
“Anything you could find again would be too big and heavy. I hadn’t thought before, but you could leave a big radar corner reflector. One made of metalized plastic film on a memory wire frame wouldn’t weigh all that much, but it would be a huge light sail and slowly accelerate out of the system on its own.
“You really need to leave something attached to an object or in orbit around it if you ever want to find it again. They won’t have the extra margin of fuel yet to maneuver around the Centauri system and examine objects close up. They also aren’t likely to have all the extra equipment besides a suit to do any EV and literally plant the flag somewhere.
“Now, when they get a big enough ship, they can do a loop around the star and never lose their entry velocity. That means they can use a smaller amount of fuel to vector around the star so they don’t come closer than they can deal with the heat and radiation. But they’d have some leeway to vector closer to planets and examine them. But they will need a lot more He3 to fly a big ship.”
“Why do they need a big ship to do that?” April wanted to know.
“Even with a respectable entry velocity, it would take months to do a loop of the star. You do speed up falling in, but we also don’t know yet how far away from the star you have to be to safely jump back out. That’s another one of those things I’d rather test with a robotic device. You slow down coasting back out and that eats up more time. That means you better have redundant environmental systems and lots of ham sandwiches. For that long of a trip you should even have some kind of medical capacity,” Jeff said.
“Do you think it can ever be reduced to days to transit a system?” April asked.
“Using their tech? I’d never bet against anything,” Jeff said.
“I’ve been thinking of them successfully jumping out and back as a big pivotal event,” April admitted. “It may be, psychologically, but it’s really more of a start point for them isn’t it? They’ll have to do a lot more development to actually do more than turn around and come back.”
“Yes, unless for some crazy reason they deny they were ever there, it should open the floodgates for funding. But, who knows? The longer we go along, the less I think I can predict what Earthies will do,” Jeff said.
* * *
“Radio scanner just indicated it had a weak signal, but then it lost it,” Baudin told his captain.
“I’d say it was noise from a gas giant, but there weren’t any in the optic scan were there?” Bellinger asked.
“No sir, nowhere near us, and they tend to be a spread of static over a wide range of frequencies like lightning discharges. Our computer rejects that sort of noise anyway. This was right on the international ship and suit frequency.”
“Surely not Weir,” Bellinger objected. “Even with them dead it would be far too long for any of their equipment to still be transmitting even if they left it putting out a distress call.”
“I totally agree, but I have no explanation,” Baudin said.
They said no more. It took too much effort to repeat the same idea a couple ways when it felt like a horse was sitting on your chest. Fifteen minutes later there was something worth discussing.
“Signal again sir,” Baudin said. “I’ll put it on audio channel three. It’s garbled, but to me it has the cadence of speech.”
“Do you have a directional fix?” Bellinger asked.
“Not a good one, but what I have centers on the bright object. I’ll be surprise if that doesn’t tighten… and it’s gone again.”
Bellinger knew, he had the feed from it now.
“Whaou!” Bellinger exclaimed when the radio started up again, so Baudin said nothing. They were both straining to hear.
It repeated and ended again just as before.
“I think it is English,” Baudin said. “It doesn’t growl like German.”
“Indeed, I thought I heard ‘national centaur’ and something about clams.”
“It seems to be getting clearer. I hope it repeats again.”
The next time it was very clear. So much so they had nothing to say to each other. Both were silent in the turmoil of their own thoughts. They didn’t say anything until it repeated again.
This is Captain Delores Wrigley of the Central survey ship Hringhorni. We are marking this planetoid with our claims transmitter and radar reflector. Be advised we are naming it ‘Bright’. We lay claim to it as her Word and Hand to mine and exploit in its entirety for the Sovereign of Central. Any equipment on its surface or near orbit is in use and not abandoned for salvage. Stand clear and respect our claim. This message will repeat.
“Cette salope!” Bellinger bellowed too loud, and carelessly swallowed his own spit the wrong way. Choking at three and a half Gs is no laughing matter. Baudin was starting to think he might have to cut the drive to allow the captain to recover. When he finally settled down and stopped coughing Baudin was glad. He’d decided he’d declare an emergency first if he had to cut acceleration. No matter how he went about it he was sure somebody would find fault with it if he interrupted the planned return. He wasn’t sure if Bellinger was cursing the captain who made the recording or her queen, but the captain didn’t have breath or energy to continue now.
“Turn it off, I don’t want to hear the damn thing again,” Bellinger ordered.
“Yes Sir,” Baudin said, and kept his thoughts to himself.
Bellinger was destroyed. This was like the quest to reach the North Pole on Earth. He could easily predict it would be forever disputed and a subject of argument who first piloted a ship to another star, since it hadn’t been properly documented. He’d thought his place in the history books was assured and that was lost. Worse, he was honest man. His backers and politicians might claim it anyway, but it was ruined for him since he knew somebody had beaten him to it. What was left to accomplish? Nothing of significance in his lifetime he was sure. Did anybody remember the second man to step on the Moon? What was beyond his understanding was why the victor hadn’t trumpeted it to the heavens?
There wasn’t a lot of conversation after that. When Baudin informed him the ship had reached their previous successful velocity to initiate a jump, Bellinger asked what their margin was on fuel.
“We should be able to come to rest in the Solar System with a seven percent reserve to vector back to the Moon,” Baudin said.
“No reason to cut into that,” Bellinger said, “initiating jump right now.”
When he pressed the button Bellinger didn’t really care if he would see the Sun ahead or nothing ever again or slip into unending darkness. Baudin on the other hand had a huge grin, and was delighted to see his home star again.
* * *
It was unusual for everybody’s phones and the house come to all go nuts with both private and bot notices.
“He’s back,” Jeff said.
April almost asked how he could possibly know that, then reconsidered. There wasn’t much of anything that could trigger multiple news alerts and messages from the own intelligence people. Still it spoke well of their connections that their pads all chimed almost a full minute before the wall screen turned on and displayed the public casts in eight windows.
“I’ll answer Chen,” April
“I have Papa-san,” Heather said.
Jeff looked and was surprised he had a call from Dave. He rarely called about anything but business so he answered.
“The French ship had to be intercepted and refueled before it could do a lunar landing,” Dave informed him. “They had margin enough to make high lunar orbit after a swing around Earth, but they came back in the Solar System in trailing the Earth-Moon system from where they left. It was a longer slower chase than they would have liked if they had more Delta V, but hey, they made it.”
That was sort of business, but Jeff was glad of the heads up. “Very interesting. What kind of source do you have?”Jeff asked.
“Somebody in Armstrong traffic control,” Dave said. “I’m on the shop floor and just got the call a half minute ago. Do you see it on the regular news yet?”
“I’m looking at our screen, and I see a couple local space reports and some general news sites, but nothing from Earth. We had some of our own people call just now, just like you, but April and Heather are talking to them and I have no idea if they know anything more yet.”
“Let me know if you hear anything that doesn’t hit the public streams,” Dave asked. “Otherwise, I’m back to work.”
“I will, Dave. Thanks for telling me.”
April and Heather both looked at him.
“They had enough fuel to get to a high lunar orbit, but they needed re-fueling before they could make a landing. Dave’s got a guy in traffic.” He looked at the screen again. “And the Earthies don’t seem too excited.”
“Maybe they don’t believe it,” Heather guessed.
“Somebody believes it. Why aren’t they announcing parades?” Jeff asked.
Heather’s pad suddenly chimed long after the first wave, and she pecked at it.
“Sure Dakota, forward him to me. I suppose I should have given Monsieur Poincaré a priority ring, but he’s always gone through channels and almost always used underlings rather than contact me directly. I can understand why he feels slighted. I’ll try to smooth his ruffled feathers.”
“The President of Marseilles has been trying to call me and I never gave him a priority code,” Heather said. “He’s never been all that eager to chat before. I’m going to put him on the wall screen to talk to all three of us. Be nice if possible and maybe we can sooth his feelings.”
Poincaré looked distressed. He didn’t object when he saw Heather’s partners.
“What have you done?” was not an encouraging opening statement, but despite the accusing words the tone was more dismayed.
“You’ll have to be a lot more specific than that if this conversation is going to go anywhere useful,” Heather told him.
Poincaré nodded, and seemed to take a moment to compose himself. Heather seemed patient, but April thought he should have done that before calling.
“I’m not calling merely for myself,” Poincaré said. “I’ve been asked to call on behalf of the Prime Minister of France. We have a close relationship still, even though we sought our independence. Now we find you have not been honest, and it puts our joint efforts in jeopardy and leaves us in a quandary over what to say publicly. Why didn’t you tell us you’ve been to the stars? Why let us keep pursuing a goal you’d already attained?”
“Is that all you were chasing? Bragging rights for being first as a propaganda prize and you are upset over losing that? Go ahead and claim it for all we care,” Heather said with a dismissive wave. “We’re after much longer term goals and really don’t give a damn what your electorate thinks of us. You’ve got them trained to eat up your lies so well it shouldn’t be hard to convince them. We won’t contradict you. Surely you’ve noticed we aren’t actively trying to convince your people or the rest of the Earthies that we aren’t what you paint us.
“We’re not honest? You have no idea what the word encompasses. You may play those games with other Earth states of winking and nodding at each other’s lies, but being honest does not mean going beyond ignoring your misinformation and supporting you in dispensing it. You sir, are not independent at all. Why isn’t Joel Durand speaking to me himself, instead of his lackey? He did the same thing a few weeks ago and sent his foreign minister to talk to us, carefully avoiding telling the man anything useful so he couldn’t reveal it. Are you entirely sure you aren’t just another ill informed buffer between us?”
It occurred to April that Heather might have forgotten her goal of placating the man once she started talking and became indignant.
“More lying has been accomplished by silence than by ever speaking falsehoods,” Poincaré claimed. “Common decency demands something of this stupendous nature be published rather than hidden from the rest of humanity.”
“Ah, that didn’t take long to invoke our common humanity,” Heather said. “Do you want to tell me it’s for the children too, so that’s out of the way?”
“Did Columbus hide he’d discovered the Americas or de Gama the way to India?” Poincaré asked.
“I doubt they could have,” Heather said. “There were too many involved to keep a secret, and drunk sailors back in port are notorious talkers. But if they could have exploited either of those discoveries without competition it would have been the smart thing to do. Since you have this sudden love of absolute truth and openness, does that mean you will advise Joel they should stop the public media from intimating we were responsible for the last big flu epidemic? Are they going to stop painting spacers as evil profiteers and hedonists? Doesn’t some of that rub off on you on the Moon as well as us?
“It’s impossible to talk with you. Diplomacy can’t work when every word back and forth is adversarial. How can we accomplish anything?”
“What do you want to accomplish?” Heather asked.
Poincaré gaped at her like she was a mad woman.
Heather looked at the overhead like she’d discovered a big spider descending, and rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“I know, I know,” she told Poincaré. “Just asking you directly is not what you would call diplomatic. We should call a conference and send underlings to argue about what shape table we’ll talk around and who sits where. Then after jockeying for status points that don’t mean anything for a couple months we can all sit around with mineral water and note pads in front of us mouthing lies for the cameras to report back home, and make some agreement full of symbolism neither intends to keep. I don’t have time for that crap.”
“You may mock it, but diplomacy has worked for hundreds of years. Without it Europe would have by now repeated the cycles of war we saw in World War One and Two. It’s what nations do instead of shooting at each other.”
“You stopped playing the game when it got so rough there weren’t any real winners,” Heather said. “I can’t blame you for that. The fact you are calling says you want something. I offered not to call you a liar in public if you claimed to have been the first to another star. Obviously that’s not enough. Why don’t we speed things along? Tell me what.”
“The nature of the secret is so large, experience says it will out eventually, even with your cooperation. Especially when we keep sending research ships out, which we intend to do. Chances are it can’t be held secret for the life-time of the people involved. Probably not even until the end of their careers. It’s of a scale that would be damaging to them and their governments when it breaks. It is a complication that the pilot of our mission resigned on his return and wants nothing to do with staying in the program or receiving a hero’s welcome. People will ask why. You don’t have the resources of Earth. No matter how far ahead of us you are, once Earth’s billions have a program to explore the stars we’ll surpass you. Why not work with us rather than compete?”
“That’s what you want? It’s an offer to partner with you? Is that just with France and her allies or have you assembled a coalition of space capable Earth governments? Are you sure you don’t have some threats of a stick to go with the nice carrot?” Heather asked.
The flicker of emotion on Poincaré’s face betrayed him.
“The normal course of action is to refrain from threats if a reasonable accommodation can be arrived at first, but since you ask, France wishes to inform you that they will reject your claims upon the object in the Alpha Centauri system which you have designated as ‘Bright’. It would be much better if we supported each other in our claims rather than carry our own contests and interests beyond the Solar System. But if you aren’t with us on this you are against us.”
“You said us instead of them,” Heather pointed out. “Just to be clear, are you conveying a message for France, or are you speaking for Marseille? Do you intend to contest with us over territorial matters out there, or here on the Moon?”
Poincaré looked scared, as well he should.
“I was not sufficiently precise. We are friends and allies of France, but we have not entered into a suicide pact with them. Marseille has neither the means nor the desire to contest your territory nor your right to exist.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Since what I’m about to say is for you to pass on to France rather than applying to you, I’ll tailor it with even more than the usual economy of expression. They weren’t asked to approve our claims. If they want to propose some rational clearing house for registering territorial claims we might voluntarily use it. But a sovereign nation doesn’t accept limits on their actions short of agreement or having them imposed.
“France has offered us nothing of value to come to any agreement with them. If they want to impose a limit on us in regard to Bright or any other claim, they are invited to demonstrate their ability to impose it. Would you convey that?”
“I will. I’ll pass on a recording of our conversation so they get the exact words and the tone of the reply,” Poincaré promised.
“Good day to you then,” Heather said, trying to avoid a rude cut off.
When the screen was blank again, she didn’t restore the news feeds, what did that really matter now?

Chapter 29
“We understand your hesitancy, and respect your principles, but would you consent to do a very minimalist news conference if we very specifically do not say your mission was a first, just that is was a great accomplishment and successful in every way?”
“I’m retired,” Bellinger replied, flatly. “I have no desire to speak for you in any capacity. I don’t believe for a moment you didn’t know our mission was not a first, or that you didn’t deceive me, and intend to deceive the public thoroughly. I’m not going to be a party to that. Just in case you think I’m an inconvenience to sweep under the rug and decide to ‘disappear’ me, be aware I’ve prepared statements to be released revealing the whole sordid mess. I’m not stupid and I’ve planted them out there with mechanisms and people who you can research to no end, because they were never connected with me. I don’t know how long you think you can hide this, but if you want the inconvenience of having it published tomorrow, just arrest me and see if it isn’t true. Unless you exile me here in Marseille, I’m going to retire to the Côte d'Azur-Corse, take up painting again, and raise orchids. If you have any brains at all you will forget you ever knew me.”
* * *
“What are the odds?” Jeff asked, with a sick look on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” April said. “We should never have left a claims marker so close to Earth. If we’d just waited until we got to more distant stars it might have been years before they got out far enough to find one.”
“If you wanted to check, I believe it was my idea to send a marker radio with the Centauri mission. I think that kind of blame game is a part of Earth Think we still haven’t shed entirely. If, as I remember, it was my idea, neither did you two object. There’s always enough blame for everybody to get a bite,” Heather said.
“Poincaré, and all of his sort are despicable, but he’s right that we are amateurs still learning at governance,” Jeff said.
“I’m less upset the more I think on it,” Heather said. “We knew they would catch up and find us out there eventually. Now we have to deal with their reactions and bluster. The fact remains they can’t do anything about us. If they want to spend a great deal of energy and treasure denying us the use of Bright it will serve them right. It was the only thing in the system Deloris thought worth expending a radio marker to claim. They may mistake it for something vital to us. Some governments will go to great lengths to protect their claims to one hill or otherwise useless island. I’d let them have their empty gesture and move on until they contest something worth fighting for if it comes to that. They better not get confident and think no such line exists.”
“It may change what resources they commit, and make them work to progress faster, but otherwise I agree with what you are saying,” April agreed.
Heather nodded gravely. “Nothing basic is changed. We shall make our changes to the Hringhorni as we planned. When we have some idea what’s out there we’ll build a specialized ship to actually land and start getting some return from the resources we find. If we don’t do something stupid, I believe we can stay ahead of the curve and have more ships and range further than the Earthies for a long time. They are divided, and not just competing with us, but with each other. You didn’t hear Mssr. Poincaré proposing a grand alliance of Earthie nations. He was still just speaking for France, and wouldn’t even commit to them as their ally against us.”
Jeff got an intense look on his face, and then slowly smiled.
“And what evil thought are you entertaining behind that grin?” April asked.
“They got so upset over finding us out there,” Jeff said. “They rejected Adam’s intelligence about the Martians unheard. So I don’t think they know yet that there are aliens out there. I’m certain that’s another thing we can agree is bound to happen, if not when. I don’t think it will be the great disaster the Martians envision, and I know I’m an awful person, but picture how they will all run in circles screaming when that news finally hits them.”
That left all three of them smiling. But then Heather looked grim.
“As amusing as that might be, I think the Martians missed the bigger danger. The more important question is likely, how are the aliens going to react to them? It would be nice to see them display some maturity in dealing with each other before they have to deal with something truly alien that they won’t be able to understand. Especially if those aliens have superior tech. They may be around many stars and have superior numbers too.”
“To some degree, that will be out of our control once they refine this tech they just proved works and make it more practical,” Jeff said. “We can try, but we can only retard their ability to leave the Solar System so much. They will fight us if we try to keep them bottled up. We can continue to skim off the cream of Earth’s billions to make a separate society, the frontier has always selected for those who wanted to leave the status quo for something better. But I have no hope we can influence the bulk of them to change their basic nature. We are too few, the problems run to deep, and we don’t have near enough time to accomplish much.
“If we do have to deal with aliens, we need to be able to convince them not all humans are alike. If things continue as they are, it will at least be obvious we have different star drives. That will be one of the first things they’ll see meeting us, and we need to be able to build on that so they see we are different other ways.”
April nodded agreement. “We want to get out there, far away from the Earth mob anyway. That’s just another reason to go out deep as soon as we can, so we get to meet and greet these aliens before they meet our crazy relatives.”
The End
The Last Part : Books and Links by Mackey Chandler
April (first in this 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. It's a good thing because things get very rough and dicey.
Family Law – The series after April
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
Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:
Stand alone books, shorts and collections of shorts.
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2
Mac's Writing Blog:
http://www.mackeychandler.com