Chapter 1
Jeff Singh watched the tension on the old brass fish scale increase in discrete steps, as he spun up the donut shaped vessel beneath it. Twenty dollars on eBay and another fifty-six dollars UPS standby rate to LEO, made more sense than near four hundred bucks for basically the same thing new from a scientific apparatus supply house. Besides it had character, old brass, well worn, with a faint fishy smell. As lab equipment, what it lacked in sensitivity and traceability to an official standards, it made up for in ruggedness and disposability.
He wasn't sure it might not be sucked into the device he was spinning up and destroyed quite early in the test, so there was no point in wasting something expensive. The entire apparatus looked like something cobbled together for a high school science fair. The frame holding his torus and the scale, was bolted together of perforated channel meant for shelving. The torus was a plain titanium tube, auto-fabricated and the bare welds unpainted.
There was some preliminary math to describe what was happening here, but when he attempted to add a spin factor, the equations didn't make sense. Some unknown factor had to be missing. He had been months waiting to get enough of the quantum fluid inside the torus from his step-mum, that wasn't earmarked for some other project. It was still not being produced in enough volume to meet the demand. He couldn't argue that using it to defend Home wasn't more important than his experiment.
He was in the North non-rotating section of Home, so there were only the faintest of unbalanced gravitational fields and tidal stresses here, nothing should ordinarily be tugging on this brass weight. He grunted in satisfaction and cut power, letting it spin down. Then he watched the mass stretch the spring again, in abrupt steps, as he reversed the spin. He heart pounded with excitement when he saw that. It sucked his weight in regardless of the direction of spin.
He pulled a box of mints out of his pocket and tore a little flap off one end of the box. The lower part of the frame and the support bearing didn't allow room to position a scale and weight, but when he flicked the small piece of cardboard toward the axis it reached a certain point and then made a right angle turn and was pulled into the wheel. The mechanism sucked in from both sides. It might well have pulled in at one end and pushed away at the opposite.
He'd started with no preconceptions on that. The force might have even reversed with the rotation. It proceeded again in distinct steps, that increased in strength exponentially as it spun up. It wasn't a straight line ratio. He stopped at sixty thousand RPM, as that was well within the safe strength of the vessel holding the quantum fluid. It was too hard to get to risk spraying it all over the compartment. Not to mention the chance a failure would injure him.
The small brass weight that floated above the torus on a thin wire was pulled toward the spinning ring. He hadn't needed a very sensitive instrument at all, but next time he'd need one with more range and accuracy. It sucked the half kilo weight down full scale against the twenty kilogram stop, when it only had reached about a fifth of the maximum spin.
The scale reading showed that in a small cone of space along the axis of spin, the full effect of the Earth's gravitational field was either supplemented or concentrated. When he reached with a pen and pushed the wire holding the weight to the side, it was pulled back up by the force of the simple spring in the scale, as it moved off axis. He'd need to map the geometry of the field in detail later.
He didn't have a theory to explain why it was doing this yet, but that wouldn't stop him from using the effect for practical purposes. After all, he reasoned, the inventor of the telegraph didn't need a complete theory of metallic electrical conduction, before he hung wire. He needed to determine the minimum mass of the fluid and what geometry was useable and most efficient to produce the effect.
What he really needed now was some way to take a copy of this machine far from here. Once it was run in a space that was not as thick with gravitational gradient, he could tell if it was generating a field on its own, or simply redirecting the flux around it. That would put him closer to a model that explained what it was really doing. It was going to be tough to get support to do such an expensive experiment, monopolizing a ship for weeks. He'd show it to his mum - Dr. Nam-Kha. She had a different way of looking at things. Who knew what she'd see?
He considered what he really wanted to do and thought out the risks. The temptation was too great to ignore. He was sure he could get close enough to feel it, without serious hazard. He secured the scale and weight to the side, well out of the way and spun the device down to a lower speed, making sure he was braced well, with a good toe hold. He started well away, a full meter and swung his hand in an arc across the line that was a projection of the axis of spin. He wasn't sure if he felt anything. He kept slicing an arc through the air with his hand, a little closer each time.
After about six passes he was less than a half meter from the spinning donut and he felt a definite pull. His hand got a tug that was not his imagination. In fact it dipped thirty or forty millimeters as it passed the active region and the tugging sensation that traveled across the palm of his hand was quite noticeable, localized and unlike anything he'd felt in his life. It was as if an invisible string pulled on his hand.
He'd stop there. He didn't want to explain to the clinic how his hand got injured, by being sucked into spinning machinery by an artificial gravity field. But he wanted to be first person in history to actually feel it with his own body. He had an uncontrollable grin when he finished and shut the apparatus down.
The big question still to be answered was, spun much faster, would it compress hydrogen by gravitational gradient to the point it would fuse?
Chapter 2
April carefully appraised the gentleman across from her. He looked older to her, in the way she was coming to associate with Earthies. However she knew from her research yesterday he was only forty-two. On Home now, the norm was to have life extension therapy, or LET and start it as early as possible. That meant as soon as a person was firmly into adolescence for most doctors.
When it was new many people delayed for years, because of the expense and fear of leading edge treatments, waiting to see how others fared before they committed themselves. But now it was cheap enough, if you could afford to live above the atmosphere you should be able to buy life extension and a whole generation of pioneers had grown from adolescence to adulthood, carrying the basic elements of LET. There wasn't enough data yet to show getting an early start had any great advantage, but that was the common assumption. There was enough data to show all the dire warnings about sudden gross mutation and raving madness were nonsense, mostly.
It looked to be a long time before they would have much data on recipients of LET dying of old age. Death by accident or homicide would reduce the sample size significantly too.
April's parents first bought it for themselves. Obviously they needed it more and still managed to afford it for her and her brother later. Only her grandfather was still visibly lacking the treatment and April was afraid to ask him why. She knew he had the money to buy it.
Below on Earth it was still priced beyond most of the middle class, unless they devoted nearly their whole means of living toward it. It was controversial and even outlawed some places. In absolute numbers there were a whole lot more North Americans with life extension treatments done on them, than the whole population of Home, but they were a tiny fraction of the population down below, wealthy and already keeping out of the public eye. The smart ones kept their status secret for their own safety, some politicians and media stars adding gray to their hair now, instead of color.
Once looking older might have built confidence in a person, because their face to the world declared this was a person with some experience in life. Now, on Home it was more likely to say - Here is someone that is poor and can't afford to take care of himself, or worst here is a religious nut who feels life extension is profane, a presumption to medically turn aside the stroke of heaven. Such a religious stand on LET was not exclusive to such groups as the Amish, but common to many who otherwise embraced a modern society.
Her breakfast companion was bald on top, with a wreath of short gray hair reaching in a band around the back of his head from temple to temple. That was unusual because there were cheap treatments to fix that problem which didn't involve LET at all. It was a risk indicator for heart disease and usually disappeared if that was addressed. But it was a sure sign he had not started any life extension therapies or that little matter would have been cleared up and other small changes would have had him looking closer to thirty. She'd seen that happen with her father when he lost his little crow's feet around his eyes and his skin smoothed out. Otherwise he seemed fit enough for someone who was in his forties, but not vain. He didn't have on any makeup or tattoos either and a simple bracelet was his only jewelry.
April had seen him a number of times in recent months having breakfast alone in the cafeteria. She made a habit of observing people here and his behavior was consistently different than others. For one thing he always looked happy. Not the mindless happiness which some simple folk have, or the false mask some devious people put on to beguile the unwary. He seemed to be genuinely satisfied with life every morning, poised and relaxed, not rushing through his breakfast and jumping up to hurry off like some driven working people, but savoring his food, reading the news off his pad, or doing the same thing April did, watching the crowd and enjoying seeing the variety of people interacting. She was predisposed to like him, before ever speaking with the man.
She'd been behind him in line before and heard him charming and chatting with her friend and favorite cook Ruby. He'd complimented her skill and gently flirted with her without being vulgar. She trusted Ruby as a judge of character and knew if Ruby had doubted the man's sincerity she would have cut his banter right off.
Yesterday, the last time she saw him in line however, something remarkable had happened which had taken all the casual out of her interest in him and sent her home to research his history as a priority over her planned business for the day.
It was a remarkable coincidence that she sat down and glanced up, just in time the witness the scene. The time window was literally seconds. There was a couple at the front and a secretary she knew worked in one of the offices here on the full gravity corridor next in line and the doctor at the end behind her. The woman had on Earth style business dress, with those silly hard sole shoes they wear.
As they moved up, someone had spilled something on the floor and as the woman stepped forward on it her heel slid forward, knee locked straight, going out from under her uncontrollably. She struggled to regain her balance, long after the point recovery was hopeless. She jerked her tray back and up as she fell and her silverware and full mug of coffee went sailing over her shoulder, straight for the doctor.
April just happened to look up at that instant, to see clearly what happened. His left hand shot out like a snake striking and gathered the tumbling utensils into his hand. Then, after they were snug in his palm, he snagged the mug with an index finger through the handle. The coffee was a long brown splash still climbing in the air, when he stepped out from under it like it was falling at lunar gravity instead of standard and reached out with his free right hand to cradle the falling woman's head and soften her fall. He succeeded enough to keep her from sharply cracking the back of her head on the hard floor. Likely he saved her from serious injury.
April had been working out with Jon's exercise group every Wednesday, doing Tai Chi, both unarmed and sword and watched people of other disciplines working out. She knew the normal limits of reflex and training. She was certain the doctor had moved with greater speed than any normal human was capable of doing. He had not just swatted the items away, but gathered them in a controlled manner, that spoke of being so fast he had time to carefully observe the motion and grasp all four objects with thought as to what he was doing. It had looked more like rehearsed stage magic, than a spontaneous save. She'd replayed and replayed what she had seen in her mind and still had a sense of awe.
Yesterday, she found Dr. Ames had moved here soon after the hostilities ended with North America last year. He went on vacation to Hawaii after the war and then just never returned to his tenured, secure position at the University of California Riverside. Instead, he had lifted with a very small shipment of his most important belongings, on a supply shuttle from Tonga. It was as slick a carefully planned defection, as she had ever heard of anyone doing successfully from North America and it was done with no public fuss.
She had no doubt if he could slip away that smoothly, he probably got all his money out too. Financial restrictions were the biggest handle the USNA had on defectors. In fact the terms of surrender Home had imposed on North America last year addressed freedom to travel to Home, but made no provision to force them to allow the transfer of assets for emigrants. It was up to people to be smart enough to do so themselves. That was a sort of unofficial intelligence test, that kept the flood gates from opening for just anyone who wanted to emigrate.
She also was able to document online, that the man was associated with the U of C Davis Veterinary program. That would have been regarded with suspicion down below. The inclusion of animal genome in humans was perhaps the touchiest legal aspect of genetic engineering in North America. If you tested for non-human code in your genome, it was enough in North America to have your citizenship revoked and either be deported if you were naturalized, or imprisoned if you were native born. So to even have a human geneticist associated with a veterinary school in North America, was to invite an uncomfortable level of scrutiny from the government and religious groups. The slightest rumor or accusation, invited the modern equivalent of a mob of villagers with torches and pitchforks storming the castle.
The name of the Agency regulating gene mods in North America said it all. The religious forces which had demanded its creation, named it The Genetic Hygiene and Heritage Board. So you knew from the start, promoting change was not what it was all about. Most USNA students insisting on a Genetics career track were in foreign schools by the time they were in graduate work and never returned to America to seek employment.
Italy was the country of choice, for careers or treatment involving human gene mods, because China was still a strange and difficult place for a foreigner to live and work. China's anything goes attitude was hard for even the most liberal genetic modification proponents to swallow. China didn't even have an authority which considered the ethics of genetic manipulation, so the only limit was each researcher's conscience. At least Italy, having gone through one cycle of banning and then a moderate relaxation, had some concept of ethics. You might easily get your eye color altered in Italy, but in China they wouldn't balk if you wanted webbed fingers and toes. Gills were thankfully beyond the art at present.
Dr. Ames was named Gerald and she had no idea what he went by, or if he liked to be formal or casual. But the fact he had accepted her invitation to breakfast, without insisting on knowing what she wanted to talk about, or how she was acquainted with him, was a good start. He was not an M.D. She thought - hoped - the company he had formed was aimed at offering genetic modifications, if the title was any indication. After a year of independence, the making of new law and custom was still proceeding with slow caution on Home. There was no legal basis for incorporation yet in Home law. There might not ever be, as some were arguing for personal responsibility being more important than promoting a uniform environment, to attract business to the habitat. Certainly there was no shortage of business coming to Home on their terms so far. So his business had to be a DBA, unless he had some silent partners.
The name on his corridor door and his business cards, one of which she had acquired, was Custom Tailored Genes. The name alone would get his office burned out in California. If he had sold genetic services here yet, he was still keeping a low profile, because nobody had bragged or complained about him yet on the public business rating boards. That raised the interesting question of how he was supporting himself, if he hadn't sold any of his services. Home was an expensive place to live.
Dr. Ames had carefully inspected his silverware by eye and passed a small pad over the utensils and breakfast. She assumed he had a pad plug in, which looked for pathogens, but he wasn't as fussy as some Earthies who wore gloves or even masks in public. Of course some of the recent epidemics gave them cause to be cautious. Her own mom could be a bit of a clean freak when they went Earthside.
He had a substantial breakfast of waffles, carefully brushed with butter, piled with fresh strawberries and blueberries and covered to excess with whipped cream, an eggs and bacon plate to the side with orange juice. But he paid attention to the waffles first. He wasn't in any hurry to talk either, patiently waiting on April after a brief greeting.
"I do the same thing," April told him, nodding at the waffles. "If you don't eat them fairly quickly, they get all soggy and aren't very good."
"Yes, the butter slows it down, but you really have just a few minutes before they are all limp. When I came up here I wondered what the food would be like, because I do enjoy eating so much. I was really getting tired of the pressure at the University, to put on a public display of limiting consumption. Skipping a decent meal doesn't really mean anything, if there is no mechanism in place, to let a starving person buy the food I just skipped. I knew having all the equipment and space to cook myself, would probably not be practical. I have to say, I am very pleased with the service available on the standard monthly contract. Do you have a private kitchen available to use Miss Lewis?"
"Yes, not what an Earthie would consider a real kitchen, but we have a two burner stove top and a small combination oven, as well as a coffee maker."
"Then your family must have been fairly well to do to have room for that, even before you gained notoriety last year for your part in the revolution."
April blushed, because she was already uncommonly conscious of the fact her family had a much bigger apartment than usual, even before the war and the hostilities over the Rock had improved the family fortunes. Since then she had become much more publicly visible, as a crew member of the Happy Lewis. Now there was no way to conceal her interest in Lewis Couriers and Singh Industries. Her family's partnership in the captured asteroid trailing Home in orbit, the Rock, hidden behind a corporate name before, was too well known now. It had been easy to turn such comments aside before, by saying everybody on Mitsubishi 3 was relatively wealthy, because it is so expensive to live here you have to be well off. But now her finances were so public it was impossible to shrug them off.
"My grandfather was among the riggers and beam dogs who constructed the station and he came from a family of working people, who were all shrewd investors and savers. He put all his money into buying cubic here, when it was speculative and undervalued. If he hadn't acted boldly the family wouldn't have had the financial base to buy into the Rock. We still own cubic outspin on the North end and we were one of only two families that didn't throw their zero G cubic away cheap, when the South hub cubic opened to the public for dockage. Everyone said, 'Who is going to dock up North where there are no facilities?' They didn't see the industrial value."
"And unlike some Earth families I've observed, where the family fortune creates conservative caution in the second or third generation, yours seems bold still, Miss Lewis."
"Thank you, I hope so," she agreed. "I haven't seen the world carefully taking care of the shy and tentative, I'm sorry to say. But if it doesn't offend, I wish you'd call me April. I've never felt like a Miss Lewis."
"Well, I appreciate the offer. It sets my mind at ease." He heaved a big sigh of relief, from a tension she wasn't aware was there. "It would please me to call you April and honored if you would call me Jerry. Although if you eventually count me a friend, you'll find most call me Jelly."
"How did you get such a name? You seem nicely trim and not Jelly-like at all."
"Perhaps now, but when I was in school they didn't have the meds they have now and I constantly struggled to keep an acceptable weight. I'm one of those unfortunate people who when they carry extra weight, wear it as a soft disgusting spare tire, right around the middle were it squishes over the belt. Not one of those flat sided solid fellows who look like a fireplug," he illustrated with his hands, "On top of which I had a reputation for always having a pocket full of jelly beans and when I met friends I'd offer them a few, so the name was an easy choice."
"And why," she asked genuinely puzzled, "would it be such a relief to be on a first name basis with me? A lot of people are very uncomfortable with such informality. I met a very nice Frenchman, a Msr. Broutin last year and he would agree to call me April, but he was more comfortable to be addressed formally himself. Using his given name made him feel as funny, as Miss Lewis did me. But usually older people like formality and the younger ones don't."
"I was relieved, because I was concerned perhaps you or your family disapproved of my business and this meeting was to tell me so. When I saw you were gene mod yourself I thought surely that couldn't be, but then when you asked to be on a first name basis, I know you wouldn't extend that courtesy to someone you're going to ask to leave."
"Leave? Jerry, I have no authority at all to ask anyone to leave anything. Not even this table, certainly not Home if that's what you meant. Banishment is the worst possible criminal punishment, the people voted for so far. It's reserved for those who we don't want to live with anymore."
He took the chance while she was talking to polish off the waffles and placed the platter of eggs and bacon on top of the empty dish.
"Well you may have no official authority," he agreed, dusting the eggs heavily with black pepper. "But I've been informed, that what the Lewis or Singh families want to happen generally does. When I came up here a few months ago, everybody from the agent who rented me my cubic, to the fellow who fibered up my data net, said what a great place the habitat was, how the future was here and a man could do anything he could dream and don't piss the Lewis or the Singh clans off, or they will flush you out the airlock in your boxer shorts and teach you to whistle without air," he said and went calmly back to his breakfast.
"Why would anyone think such a thing?" she argued indignantly. "I can't think of one person these people have ever actually seen me harm. I mean, we did run down those troopers that invaded us from the Cincinnati, but they were invaders after all. Margaret had already blown half of them to hell and gone at the dock. She blew their shuttle folded over double. Now there's a lady with whom to be very polite," she advised him. "I helped Easy fry one outside the Holiday Inn, but Neil was the one who nailed the rest of them in the lobby with a homemade Claymore, when we chased them in there," she remembered.
"Jon's crew and the Prentice family wiped out so many of them in the corridors, I don't even know if I ever did get a decent hit on anyone out there, blasting away in the smoke and confusion. North corridor was just horrible - bullet holes and fires, half way across the station and a trail of dead Earthies in breached armor. And it's true Easy and I toasted the Pretty As Jade when we ambushed those two ships, but I was sitting laser weapons board and had hardly even got a start on burning the James Kelly, just took their laser mast out, when Eddie put a missile in them and made ‘em confetti - made my contribution kinda moot."
She stopped suddenly, stricken, realizing how counterproductive her testimony was and sank her face in her hands in understanding for the first time. "Oh crap, I never stopped and really thought out what it all looked like before," she admitted.
"Indeed, by the most amazing coincidence, there does seem to be a history of expensive damage, death and destruction, strewn closely behind when you get rolling. If it isn't by your own hand, you can't blame people if they think you must at least be an inspiration, to this crew who seem to run with you. I might point out, when your people got through with North America, the best they could come up with for the Presidential succession was the Postmaster General. Most of us assumed the rest of them hadn't gone into hiding, to avoid taking the office. That took what? About a week? Speaking as one who has just recently come up and I still maintain contacts below, they are still trying to hide from the public, just how badly you pounded them. In military circles, I believe the term is decapitation."
"Yeah, well, I heard on the news they stopped trying to dig into the bunker at Cheyenne Mountain and the Deepwell bunker, they're calling the Charleston bunker now. The mountains are so broken up inside they shift and are too dangerous to open up. They'd have to work down from the top like a strip mine and what's the point anyway? Nobody is alive in there."
"Hey," she said, thinking back on what he said. "Who says I'm gene mode anyway?" She managed to sound a little indignant for the privacy issue, but her heart really wasn't in it.
Jerry just lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her basic four thousand calorie breakfast, with an expression that invited her to deny it.
"Well, yeah," she admitted, defeated and changed the subject quickly. "So, I have a couple questions for you, but I really don't mean to coerce you to answer them because I'm a Lewis. Just for me, not anything to do with Home or the militia. If you want to tell me it's none of my business and to butt out, it's fine," she assured him.
He took a sip of coffee and nodded his agreement for her to continue on those terms.
"You're in the gene business, but I notice you don't try to pretty yourself up, so the customers are impressed with how you look. I mean, for most people it's a huge part of it. Maybe the most important part for some. They may want to live longer, but if you gave them the choice between living longer and looking good, I bet not a few would take the looks. So I'm wondering why? I saw you catch the lady's stuff off her tray yesterday morning and I know you have to have some alterations to be so fast. It has to be a real advantage to be that quick. Is that something you'd sell?"
"Well, yes. I intend to offer a number of mods eventually, but I'm rather cautious, waiting to see how the political landscape settles out here, before I make myself too conspicuous. Eventually I'd like to attract business from off station, but if there is a sudden movement to restrict such things, I'll be in a very bad situation. I've cut myself off from North America and I'm not sure where else I'd be welcome. I'll do some gene business eventually, but I'm not so broke I will worry about buying lunch for some time. I have some other small sources of income. You however, make two who've noticed this mod," he said with a grimace, that briefly replaced his happy face.
"After I made the mistake of moving too quickly, I went back up to get my bowl of oatmeal from your friend Ruby. She didn't say anything to me, but when she turned around she held it and the little pitcher of cream on a saucer well up off of the counter and just let go of both of both and turned away. I have to say she is very fast herself, for an unmodified person. She was turned fully, back to me, before they had fallen very far. By the time I caught it without spilling anything, she wasn't even watching. I thought at first she was testing me, but on thinking it over, she would have watched if it was a test. She was just telling me that she had noticed. I think that's just how her sense of humor works."
"Not much gets past Ruby. Her husband was our primary command pilot on the Happy, when we rescued the Singhs. Among other things she is a Doctor and professor of Medieval European Music and has military experience."
"She makes a wonderful Western omelet too," he added.
"Sometime have her make you an asparagus and mushroom omelet, with Monterey Jack cheese," she suggested.
Abruptly her expression altered and she changed the subject as a thought hit her. "I bet you would be one tough sucker to shoot wouldn't you?" she asked, looking at him real hard. "You'd see the person reach their aim point and start to squeeze the trigger and - zip - you'd not be there to be drilled. It would actually be harder to shoot you up close. Better to stand off down a corridor and hose the whole hall down with a continuous beam." She illustrated with a sweeping index finger.
He looked down at the finger of death sweeping over his breakfast, with considerable apprehension. "April, believe me, I understand and appreciate the survival traits you have. The same as you can appreciate a leopard in a nature video. But it's harder to look up in a tree and admire one hanging off a branch, looking down on you like it's reading the luncheon menu. You are a lovely young woman and so dangerous you don't look at someone and say ‘Can I take him?' You progress directly to ‘How?' But when you think about it, you unconsciously shift your weight to the left and cup your hand, poised like you are thinking through the motions to draw and burn the life out of me. I really think you need to learn not to telegraph these things, so I can enjoy my breakfast and not be sitting here considering ‘Could I possibly reach the door if I jump up to run and zig - zag fast enough?' it does not aid one's digestion."
"I'd think it would be more effective, as fast as you are, to close on me instead of run."
"You flatter me," he assured her, looked pointedly at the pebble textured handle sticking forward from her wide belt. "Whatever the grip is connected to, I don't want a close up experience with it."
"The aikuchi? It's a present from Genji Akira," April said, touching the hilt lightly. "He sent it as a gift after he won the Publishers and Editors award, with a piece which used some material about me. I suppose he was apologizing in a roundabout way, that he didn't ask permission to use his stringer's pix of me. He indicated this was a proper mate to a couple pieces my grandfather gave me. He thought it a bit easier to carry than a tanto."
"The Japanese writer? I didn't even know he'd won something. Would you care for some more coffee?" he offered, getting up with his own empty cup.
"Please."
When he returned he commented on the coffee, "Smells good." He took the small pad he favored and passed it over the cups as he had done when he sat down. You couldn't see the laser.
"You are checking for bacteria?" April inquired.
"Actually this one checks now for bacteria, viruses, drugs, poisons and pollutants."
"Nice. I didn't know they had gotten so much coverage in a pad plug-in. The coffee here is OK, but my friend Heather's mom Sylvia Anderson has me to dinner now and then and she has me appreciating a much better sort of coffee. She serves a very mild roast which isn't as bitter and it's the sort we buy now for our shipboard use. She's one of the few people here who really get serious about cooking. I'll introduce you if we get a chance. Now they have a real kitchen."
"April. You mentioned a Msr. Broutin. You don't seem the sort to drop names, but I have to ask, are you speaking of the Foreign Minister of France?"
"I don't think so. I thought he was some sort of art broker. I meet him at the lady's house I was speaking about, Sylvia, just before the war. From what he said over breakfast he was there to speak with my friend on behalf of the Treasurer of Lebanon. Nice, middle aged fellow - spoke English with almost no accent, just sort of softly inflected. A handsome fellow with a bit of a pointy nose and a little patch of gray at each temple and dressed like a million Euro. He had on one of those expensive handmade suits which hang just perfect around the collar," she demonstrated stroking both hand like she was smoothing lapels down, "even when he sat and the cuffs actually unbuttoned to fold back to wash. He had cuff links on I asked about and he made a present of them to me. I wear them all the time now. I should really get some more."
"For the Treasurer of Lebanon?" He seemed perplexed, tapping his pad. "Is this him?" he turned the little pad around and she had to look close to see the small screen.
"Well! I'll be," she was genuinely surprised, "it is him. He never mentioned he did any government work. But then why would he?" she shrugged. "He wasn't here for them; he was doing his friend a favor."
Jerry refrained from explaining how much some people delight in flaunting their position and power, at every turn. He suspected she would be disdainful of such pettiness.
Jerry stopped talking for a bit to do a search and kept pecking at the pad while stuffing his face. After a bit he admitted, "Ah, my mistake really. He was appointed after he was up here, but quite soon after the whole mess last year, when the previous Minister was sacked." His eyes narrowed slightly and he looked at her. "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that though, would you?" he asked suspiciously.
"No not, uh, explicitly," she denied automatically and could see Jerry purse his lips at the qualifier. She wondered now, if Broutin had turned the knowledge his visit gave him to some advantage. "He was nice. He warned me the North Americans would blockade us." She wanted desperately to get away from discussing politics and grasped for anything.
"The French have this cute custom of kissing," she started to relate with a smile, remembering how he took her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips, but when she looked at the expression on his face, she cut it off and said, "No, never mind. I can tell you think I'm making things up."
"On the contrary, I don't think I've heard the half of it. How many other famous people do you know?" he asked directly.
"The most famous person I will ever know, is Jeff Singh," she said without hesitation.
He carefully considered how she phrased that and marked it as important to remember.
"He has ideas faster than they can be developed. If he just stopped thinking right now, I'm sure he has years of work just doing the lists he has on his pad. He showed me a module he is working on, to split carbon dioxide and return the oxygen to a suit and extract water vapor. When you have this on a suit you could survive until you starve. You may not be comfortable, but you could go two or three weeks and not suffocate. I asked what he was working on one evening and he sat and read a list of projects like that to me, for about a half hour. I honestly didn't understand maybe half of them. But every one was something that would be a major business and is needed. Nothing that is just a fad idea, that will run its course and blow over."
"A lot people have been trying to figure out if it is Heather Anderson, or you, who is Jeff's girl friend. Care to let me in on it, so I have the straight stuff instead of rumor and gossip?"
"People shouldn't worry about such things. I don't understand why they're even interested. We're all three business associates. Jeff and Heather worked together before me. But I know for a fact they both take anti-bonding medication, so they don't get distracted with romantic complications. But we're all three bound together in a lot deeper way anyway."
Our lives, our treasure, our honor, in friendship and loyalty, April thought silently, with an inner surge of pride, remembering a toast, a solemn oath and an earnest hope for a nation that had come wonderfully true, but said nothing aloud. That story was way too private to share with anyone, even her grandpa. "If you look at the question, well, why shouldn't we both be his friend?"
He wanted to say people don't do that, but they do he knew, if not easily or often and he'd feel stupid to say otherwise. Still, he thought it would be a rarity if they were close without conflict or deception. Anti-bonding meds or no, he had seen even chaste same sex friendships destroyed, over refusing to share a friend. The very expression best-friend was singular. Not best friends. Maybe a mate and a best friend? But he had also seen people drive away a spouse's friends, from before their marriage… He realized he had stopped chewing and frozen up all conflicted unable to answer her.
He suddenly wondered if that was why he hadn't married, because he assumed it would limit whom he could have as friends. How could such a young girl make him ask such disturbing questions about himself? April saved him from answering that he had no idea, by going on.
"So, how about your modification to reflexes, is it something I could buy?"
"You know I'm not a Medical Doctor don't you?" he asked carefully. "It's one of the big reasons I'm here, because I can pursue what I'm interested in without being hampered by studies and regulations which would slow me down. Back on Earth I'd be old and dead before I could accomplish anything. So everything I do will be experimental and there will be risks which are unacceptable to North American law and regulation."
"We're results oriented here. You can't be licensed, because we don't have such a thing yet. Don't know if we ever will. You must feel this mod is safe, or you wouldn't be carrying it in your own body."
"More than you can know," he said, surprised at her perception. "The reason I don't have many modifications is two-fold. One," he said lifting a thumb in the European manner, "it was safer in North America to be visibly lacking in any life extension, when my work was already suspect and two," he said lifting the index finger, "I plan to live a long time, so I don't want any modification done I am not sure I can undo later, if something better came along. I'm in good shape and there's no reason I can't wait and let the technology mature another twenty years or so, before I commit to any significant therapy. Since I'm not living down there, I can be a little more liberal with minor treatments which show. When I knew I was defecting, it was easy to convince myself to do this treatment, because I reasoned it could help me if I were on the run. I'd be harder to capture and much harder to shoot as you pointed out."
"I researched you a bit. You were involved with veterinary. Does your treatment use animal genes? I don't know how I'd feel about that, but I know a lot of people are squeamish about using them."
"The reason behind the prejudice, is people imagined because we don't know what all the genes express, if we added cat genes say, which altered the eye, we might be adding an unknown change. We might change personality for example and become a killer lacking in compassion like a cat with a mouse and far less human. It's sort of a modern version of the animist belief, that you take on some of the qualities of the animal when you eat it. And it has its basis in the same error - not understanding in detail how the process works at a molecular level,"
"Now it is true, in the very early days of gene mods, when we just looked for a marker, entire blocks of genes were moved to create a change, when it was not understood how all the instructions in the block were expressed. That fear might have had some basis in reality then. But it would be a far greater risk something far less subtle would be expressed wrong, like a change in an enzyme or hormone which would cause the person to be sick or die. Especially when they could not control the insertion point with any accuracy. They created quite a few problems with that shotgun approach, including inducing cancers."
"Now what I do is quite different. I find a model for faster reflexes and then create an entirely artificial gene with that information, which causes your body to create the same sort of mechanisms but without ever taking an actual physical piece of genetic material from an animal and inserting it. There is no opportunity for extraneous instructions to be dragged along."
"But doesn't that accomplish the same thing?" April protested.
"Let me illustrate. Say your ship built here has a motor in the back with a stainless steel valve and you find out the Chinese have a valve made of titanium and it works a little better than yours. Now if you capture a Chinese ship and yank a valve out of it and adapt it to substitute for your original, it's fair to say your ship is part Chinese now isn't it?"
April nodded in agreement.
"But if I hear that report and go back to the shop and tell them, ‘Make up some new valves to connect to our pipes, but make them out of titanium now. Change the dimensions, or whatever you need to do in our design to take advantage of the new material so it works better, but start from scratch with new materials." Now, is the ship still part Chinese, or is it all Home?"
"It's all Home, but you aren't as sure you are going to get what you want from the change if you didn't understand why their valve is better. You may think it's the material and it turns out it's the shape of the innards or how it bolts on the pipe or something."
"Right you are. And so you better have the guy doing it be someone who knows all about the different kinds of valves and why they work. If you don't have someone like that, better leave well enough alone. And there are still lots of poorly understood processes in the human body, which we would be wiser to leave alone right now." He looked in regret that all his plates were empty and salvaged one little fleck of whipped cream that had escaped on his finger and stuck it in his mouth.
"So, is there any down side to being faster?" she pressed to know.
"Oh yes, you are more likely to hurt yourself. It becomes much more important to stay in good shape with training. You might tear tissues or even break a bone, if you act rashly without being conditioned. And as I found with Ruby, if people become aware of your edge they tend to play tricks on you."
"If you would consider treating me what do you need?"
"I'd need permission from your guardians," he said, but stopped because she was shaking her head emphatically no.
"I'm a legal adult. You can check the public record. I have the honor of being the first person on Home voted their majority, instead of attaining it at an arbitrary age."
"I'd heard about that, but I didn't know anyone who had done it. When I meet someone how am I to know if they are a minor or an adult?"
"For business I'd check the public records. Really, even with a set age of majority we still needed documentation before, because it was becoming difficult to judge a person's age with LET. But most of the people here are adapting the social convention that adults wear weapons, even if just symbolic ones like a Sikh's sword might be a pin on his turban. So if you meet a young boy in the corridors and he has a knife on his belt chances are he's an adult. You might think about doing it yourself. It's getting to be people think you're an Earthie if you aren't carrying," she teased.
"Then all I really need is a copy of your genome and a history of your in vitro modifications and your usual medical history. I'd still encourage you to discuss the change with a trusted mature friend. Do you have somebody, who you'd trust their wisdom in the matter?"
"My grandfather will do fine. He's extremely safety conscious."
"You should also not take any anti-viral medications. I'm afraid you are going to have a mild cold for about three days and you'll have to isolate yourself to avoid passing it to others. I have a counter infection, but you'd put us in an awkward legal situation if you were negligent and carelessly changed someone's genome who might not welcome it. You also can't take anything which compromises the immune system and you must be absolutely sure not to get pregnant. I'm happy actually to have a famous client from an important family. So let's keep my fee reasonable. Is fifty thousand EuroMarks good for you?"
"Sounds fine. I'm concerned though. Is the infection tailored to me? Is there any danger the infection would be fatal or damaging, if someone got it off my laundry or by coming in my room?"
"No the carrier is a really mild corona virus, which produces such mild symptoms many people aren't even sure they have a cold. They may get a bit sniffly or feel tired. But people can get very upset if something is forced on them against their will, even through carelessness. And an accidental transmission might be to someone pregnant or immune deficient."
"Are you developing other treatments?"
"I will be continuing some studies with that goal. I may be able to offer greater strength soon, but I'm debating if it needs stronger bones to go with it. The delay right now is I have to buy lab services somewhere, to have them run tests on mice. I'll supervise remotely and send samples back and forth, but I'm already living in the back of my office cubic and I doubt that housekeeping would like me sharing it with twenty thousand white mice, even if I could afford them here."
"Any chance you could make a mod to help a person take higher acceleration?"
He didn't hesitate long before shaking his head no. "You better look to an engineering solution on that. It's way too complex for me to tackle at this stage."
"Since you've had your treatment do you feel any faster? I mean does it alter your time sense? I'd hate to feel like everything around me was in slow motion and it would take forever to get through the day."
"Funny you should ask that. I never thought of that possibility before I did this. It would have been a big shock if I'd felt such an effect. I feel like I always did, but when I move I'm able to get there a little faster. It may look fast to you, but it just feels natural to me. Slowed time sense is one of the unpleasant withdrawal effects of a number of addictions. So I do know it's possible to induce it. In studying the matter I found out a few athletes are capable of basically the same level of performance I've induced, but I could never get one to agree to allow me to take samples and do biopsies. I'd really like to have access to such a person someday."
"I'll mail you what you need. And the fee. Say, half now and the remainder on success?"
"Works for me," he agreed. "Shake on it?" he offered across the table, relaxed.
She grasped his hand firmly and smiled at him. There was just a moment's awkward hesitation where she delayed letting go of his hand. Looking him eyeball to eyeball. He thought how she could have stopped him from pulling away if she wished, better reflexes or no. He could picture the dagger coming out in the other hand while the right held him trapped. It was a chilling thought which flashed on him unexpected.
As if to underscore it was a lesson she told him, "If you are going to be a spacer now we don't shake. It doesn't work in zero G so it's better unlearned. Just touch your finger tips in the palm of my hand." This time he reached up and her finger lightly brushed his palm at the same time he touched hers. It was a gentler custom. And so much safer too, he thought.
Chapter 3
Done with Jerry and quite pleased with what she accomplished, April immediately headed for the North hub of Home to consult her gramps about Jerry's treatment. April hadn't seen him or Jeff and Heather her favorite co-conspirators for days. It made her feel disconnected if she only talked to them on the com. They were all working today in the Lewis family cubic, outspin. Jeff and Heather were still using the loaned space her gramps had made available to run his nano-electronic processors. Without his devices their rebellion last year would have been impossible. With a little luck she'd be able to ask her grandpa about the viral mod, without making it seem like a big serious conference.
April dove through the bearing gate, that separated the spinning and stationary parts of the station. It rather looked like the drum of an enormous washing machine. She caught the rail around the opposite opening to kill her spin and hung there a moment to tuck her slippers under her belt. She already had on footies, with individual toes like a glove. Some people liked a footie with just the great toe divided off like a Japanese sock. But she liked the full division.
The dispenser charged the same to measure your foot and it didn't take any longer to cut them so why not? She had spent a lot more time in zero G the last year, so she was much more skilled going down the corridors here and she arrived at their cubic quickly.
He grandpa didn't trust a sensing safety lock, so their lock was a full certified Mitsubishi lock, with redundant controls. The same as would meet code to be used on an outer bulkhead, instead of on a corridor. That saved them somebody snooping in their space every year for a safety inspection too. She let the pad taste her hand for entry and manually opened and dogged closed the corridor hatch. She saw the screen inside added a glowing line to the log, noting her entry. She could see her gramps through the small port, working inside unsuited, so she skipped checking the gauge. If he hadn't been visible she would have not only looked at the gauge, but opened a cock and ran a safety wire through, to confirm the instrument was working. Her gramps was fanatical on safety and she intended to live every bit as long as him.
Going through the inside hatch, she shifted hand grip to foot grip and was happy to see Jeff and Heather at the far end removing some nano-electronic foils from the processing boxes, that needed zero G. After they worked together on the Happy Lewis, Jeff and her gramps had not parted ways, but settled into a steady relationship doing design and prototyping new products based on Jeff's ideas.
What exactly their arrangement was she had never asked. She knew with the ownership of the Rock secure, her grandfather wasn't hurting for money. It was getting close to the production stage of that project, where they would vacuum distill the asteroid into its constituent elements. It shouldn't be long until he had a nice income from it and she had a small share too. She knew from her own experience Jeff wasn't tight in sharing and would treat him right without being forced. Something she wished he could teach her brother. Bob was cheap to the point of embarrassment.
The two of them just seemed to have an affinity, that cut past any difference in age. She didn't begrudge it and Heather seemed unthreatened by it too. Her grandpa was hovering in front of his old tool box, a downdraft tray of small fittings in front of him, checking them with a micrometer. He wore footies and held himself by his toes on a bar that ran the length of the work bench. Watching him work she glanced at the tools in the oak box. Some of them she knew how to use, like the one he had out now and a few were still strange. He was talking into a pad as he worked and gave her a facial gesture in the silent helmet-talk construction workers used, which said he didn't want to be interrupted, so she veered off to her friends. Interrupting inspections caused errors, so she wasn't offended. She might have to fly those parts.
"More fusion generator strips?" April asked Jeff and Heather.
"Yes but these are an experiment." He put the old roll of foil in a foam lined box, careful not to catch an edge or corner and opened another box of feed stock for Heather. She skillfully inserted a new blank strip in the fabricator box, delicately feeding the end into rollers that grabbed it and pulled a few millimeters in. They didn't have coveralls or hair nets, but wore white clean room gloves.
"We have twenty production boxes coming up from France. The USNA companies kept finding reasons not to deliver. I think the government was leaning on them. So that frees these up to do experimental work," he said, gesturing at the six microwave oven sized boxes. They all fed off a common power outlet and a vacuum manifold vented to outside. "I want to do a hydrogen fusion foil with normal hydrogen, not deuterium, so we can use the common isotope instead of paying the premium for the heavy isotope, then the resulting product which is itself deuterium, can be used in the generators like I have already made, that are much easier to get to work."
"This is tougher to make work?"
"These are the fourth batch I've made and the first one had reactions take place, but it couldn't make enough power to sustain itself. The two supposedly improved versions haven't worked at all," he admitted ruefully. "Then, when I get this sorted out, I'm going to make a generator that will produce energy to sell, but as a waste product creates tritium, which I intend to sell too. But mainly I want the tritium available to us as a fuel."
"Why, if you have both regular hydrogen and deuterium as fuel, do you need the tritium?"
"A tritium - deuterium reaction produces about four times more power," he looked a little shy but went ahead and told her what that meant. "It'll make exploring the outer system a lot quicker and easier and we may need it for the first star ship."
April considered making a sarcastic joke about making a faster than light drive, but swallowed it. At some very deep level, she wasn't sure even that was safe to joke about with Jeff. He was so smart she might have to eat her words someday.
"And while you're at it, I was talking with a new guy who set up a business here to do gene mods and he recommended I ask if you can come up with something to neutralize the effects of acceleration. He said a biological fix is way beyond the art right now." Jeff gave her the oddest look and she was sorry she'd asked. He looked startled and then thoughtful. At least he didn't tell her not to be silly.
"It is theoretically possible to do so," he answered, still looking distracted. She suspected most of him was off in some alternative mental space, working on the problem."There have been schemes proposed in fiction, such as suspending a piece of super dense matter ahead of the pilot so the gravitational attraction works against the acceleration. You move it closer as the acceleration rises. You have problems with tidal effects and the ship would be massive to support it, but it would work. I'll think on it and see what else I can come up with," he said, visions of a brass weight on a wire in his mind. Accelerate the entire reference frame and what would the weight feel?
"OK," she agreed, not sure if he was pulling her leg. "One other thing I need if you have time, Heather. I want a small portable freezer. It should be powered so it stays cold on its own for months without refueling and maintains at least liquid nitrogen temperatures in a small compartment. I need removable containers for samples. Maybe a rack of them with caps like test tubes. And big enough to hold a couple cotton tipped swabs. I'll have a special corona virus to preserve soon."
"April, you're not getting Home involved in bio-warfare are you?" Heather asked looking very uncomfortable. "I honestly don't want any part of that and I'd try to talk you out of it."
"No, no." She explained about the gene mod she wanted to buy and the thought she'd like to preserve a sample of the active virus. "I have no idea if Jerry has taken precautions to preserve his legacy, if he was assassinated or had an accident, like we three have done with each other. He is a defector after all. Seems to me that makes him a bit of a target. It would be a shame to lose such a thing. He's here and I think he's so far ahead of the curve, it might not be available from someone else Earthside for a long time."
"But has he told you it is being patented, or specifically told you it is proprietary? I'd consider getting treated with that myself, but I don't want to have him say later we stole his intellectual property," Heather explained firmly.
"Let's put it this way. I'd like to preserve it and if he indicates it is not to be shared at any point, I can destroy the sample. If not we can talk about the ethics of it. If it's still available from him, we can pay for it for you two. But if anything happens we'd still have it. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes and the equipment is easy. They make a perfect unit commercially already, that is for veterinary workers. All the big horse farms and breeders use them. They plug in the standard forty eight volt power for ground cars, so I can just mate it to one of our power units like we're using in hand lasers and it will be fine. I'll buy two and put one here at Home and send the other to be stored on another habitat, so we have redundancy."
"How about you, Jeff? Think you'd be interested?"
"I'm not sure," he considered it. "How long has it been since Dr. Ames administered it to himself? Do you know?"
"Well before he came up, while he was still planning his defection. So I'd say somewhere between six months and a year."
"Perhaps I'll consider it if he has taken a base line sample of his physical and mental condition and then tests everything again to see if there are any other changes. That's still just a sample of one, which doesn't mean much in medical trials, but it would be something to gauge the risk. I'd have to talk to him about it, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all. I'll ask him if he'll consult with you if you want." He nodded his thanks. She was surprised Jeff was so cautious. It made her have little pangs of doubt again for herself.
"Is everything going well with Eddy's new ships?" She asked them.
"We're all done with them actually. It's up to the shop now. The design is finalized and any minor details Dave's yard workers will be more than able to do. The fabbers are making parts already. We're going to start a design program for the next generation ship soon and that's going to be a long term project we want to get right. We're not going to use a scooter frame or components as a base. It's going to be a fresh design from the start, with every component that can be improved considered for a possible upgrade. It's going to be a load bearing skin instead of a frame. They will be much more modular, made for automated assembly and have greater redundancy on critical systems. I hope we make a lot more than two of this series. The design goal will be to do a Mars run under boost the whole way. After that Dr. Nam-Kha is going to have more of the quantum fluid for the Singh projectors and she promises me a larger quantity of the fluid to do an experiment."
"Do you call her Doctor when it's just the family at home?" April teased him.
He blushed and shook his head no. "You know I really do have a great deal of respect for her, so I tend to separate the professional lady from my step-mother. She's not comfortable in Hindi or Japanese and I'm pretty useless in Chinese, so we usually speak English at home. Step-mother seems so distancing and I'd never call her by name, so I've just fallen into calling her Mum. It feels right somehow."
"I think that's sweet," April assured him. "I'm glad you get along. And I'm glad to see you don't resent your dad being happy. Some days I think he's going to bust his face smiling."
"My dad deserves to be happy after all he's been through," Jeff told her all serious again. "And you'd shudder to hear all Nam-Kha has been through with the Chinese and growing up dirt poor in Tibet. She lost most of her family early on, to sickness and earthquake. Their own house didn't fall down, but there was no power, no food and no help for days, in the middle of winter. She deserves a chance to be happy, just like my dad. It's amazing she's so kind after all she's been through. Some people turn bitter but she's not. She's very distrustful, of the Chinese in particular, but I can't fault her for that. She worries so about keeping control of her discoveries. The Chinese do have a long history of intellectual property theft," he allowed.
"But it was the USNA not China that broke into your apartment and tried to steal our things from the Holiday Inn last year," she reminded him. "The militia will keep your things as safe as we can, both yours and your Mums."
"You I trust April and Heather too of course, but how many members are in the militia now?"
"About forty and we try to have five or six off Home all the time now."
"See, that makes me nervous. It's hard for forty people to agree on anything. What if a ship gets pirated and there are a few who want to use weapons to destroy it and a few others balk? Is there a real command tier, or is it a social club? Can someone like Jon override and hold, or force a weapons release?"
"I'm not sure what would happen if there wasn’t a consensus. Some things like the kinetic weapons are so dumb, once they're released there is no recalling them. We were more concerned with making sure someone would retaliate if Home got nuked, than controlling them. There is no override to keep anyone from a weapons release either." April didn't look very happy with the idea.
"I never complained about not being invited into the militia, but I'm thinking I want my own small basic systems, so I can defend our property."
"It wasn't that nobody wanted you in the militia," April assured him. "It's just everybody knew we couldn't risk you in a combat situation. If we lost you and Nam-Kha right now, I still think we'd still lose everything to the Earthies within a few years. We're ahead of them technologically but we have to stay ahead and honestly, you two are the only ones making that happen right now. If you were a militiaman everybody would be scared to death you'd risk yourself. It would distract them when they don't need distracted."
"I still feel like the lone man out. You know, they didn't used to let women in combat? It feels the same. They had all the loftiest motives to hear it, but in the end the women still seemed to be inferior for needing protection."
"But that was stupid," April insisted. "Their premise of motherhood needing protected was false. There were never going to be enough women killed to endanger the birth rate. Most everybody can breed, but we don't have other people who can think like you and your mum do, so it's a valid concern. For that matter my dad isn't a militia member. He thought it would interfere with being director for Mitsubishi. Nobody thinks less of him for that. Look, if you want me to ask Jon to let you in I will. I don't think anybody will begrudge you, if you just assure them you don't want to rush to the front as soon as bullets start flying."
"No," he said still looking stubborn. "I don't want to ask. It wouldn't be the same now, if I felt they were pressured to accept me. And I'd still have all my concerns about the command and control issues. I'd be happy to just let it all drop, if Heather and you don't mind me duplicating some of the militia's systems, but controlled by just we three. The Three Musketeers," he joked.
"With the bulk materials coming off the Rock now, we can do it fairly cheaply. It won't take any time because the designs are all done and we can farm it out to the same fabricators who already know the jobs. We're not hurting for money either, now that we are getting some license money flowing," he said modestly.
He didn't mention he had always intended to have some weapons under their control, even last year when they were fighting and never got around to it, in the rush to support the militia. Maybe he had never made that clear enough to them, but why back up and make them defensive by trying to pin down what their thoughts were a year ago?
April looked at Heather and could tell from her face the idea was not something he'd settled with Heather before talking to her. It wasn't a set up.
"Hey, the people already voted to allow private weapons, even on ships, so they knew some would be pretty heavy duty," April pointed out. "You don't need our permission, but if you're asking will we help, it's fine with me if it's OK with Heather. She's the one that will probably have to help more, if there are any techie problems doing it. I'd be happy to position them when we are out on commercial runs. If it makes you feel safer go for it. Concentrate on the cheap ones, the kinetic weapons first. After all, if anyone every cracks the militia command system and negates it, a redundant assent is smart to have," April pointed out.
Heather smiled. "We usually do triple redundant systems. I guess we've been way lax on this depending on the militia's solitary system. I'd be happy to help him set it up and I'll get the keys to all of us as soon as it comes on line. And if we order the same spec weapons, maybe the fabricators will assume they are for the militia and we can keep our system secret. Nothing keeps somebody from cracking a system like not knowing it exists."
"Good, because I'm developing a different sort of warhead and I'd like us to retain control of it. A fusion weapon but still no fission kernel. Have you seen what they are doing to raise capital, to process the Rock?" Jeff asked, deciding not to say more about his project.
"No, I probably have a hard copy message at home I haven't read." April said.
"Look at this," he fished out a slim wallet and pulled out a engraved bank note. It had a scene of the surface of the Rock with Home in the background, a little closer than reality to give better detail. The arch of the Earth intruded from above. There was a serial number in a holographic taste tab and a scroll over the image said, "Asteroid Materials Association, will deliver the bearer, ten thousand kilograms of elemental iron on demand."
"This is money," April said shocked.
"Is it?" Jeff asked, with a twinkle in his eye. "That's a very long conversation, but even if it is, the assembly has not forbidden Home citizens from making their own money. It will be pretty hard to counterfeit too. You have to hold a finger on the tab for sixty seconds and you have to register ownership with the company in ninety days. It keeps a record of the succession of owners. The previous owner of record is notified and if it is cashed in for the metal, all the previous owners are notified and can challenge the transaction."
"I don't have time to talk about it today, but what you just said convinced me, we three need to start a bank before anybody decides to start a central bank or regulate them. If we don't it may be too hard later," April advised them.
"How long have you been thinking about that?" Jeff asked, surprised.
"About thirty seconds, but you're not the only one who gets sudden insights."
"Listen to her," Heather told him. "This idea just feels right."
"Whatever you ladies say," Jeff allowed somewhat humbled. "We'll start researching it."
Why just Home? - popped into his head for some reason. He made a note on his pad.
April had absorbed about as much as she could in one conversation and wanted to get away. "Give me a call when you have the freezer," she reminded Heather.
"OK, but I want to have breakfast with you day after tomorrow," Heather asked.
"Fine, I'm going to talk to my grandpa again ‘fore I take off. She touched their shoulders because they had clean room gloves on and went back to the other end of the cubic. Her grandpa seemed done with the fittings, so maybe he wouldn't mind being distracted now.
"Gramps I have a guy just moved in Home, that is starting a business here doing gene mods," - she proceeded to describe what she had seen of Jerry and his superior reflexes and how cautious he was about doing modifications to himself and also told him Jeff's cautious reaction - "I realize you don't seem to be in a big hurry yourself to do any life extension or modifications. So level with me. How do you feel about changing yourself? Do you plan to ever do it, or are you going to stay a natural?"
"Stay a natural?" he smiled. "I like that turn of a phrase. I think I'll use that. Did you coin that yourself, or did you hear it somewhere?"
"As far as I know I never heard it. It just kind of popped out. It seemed obvious."
"Thought it was fresh," he complimented her. "Well, I've always been sort of private about medical things, but I don't mind telling family. I'm not very natural any more. I've had therapy to keep my circulatory system healthy and some mods that keep my vision young and a few therapies that keep the brain from starting to take the slow slide to dementia. It won't be long before I have to do something to keep my joints working good enough to keep me happy too." he said flexing his hand and grimacing at it.
"I like this Jerry's attitude not to rush into anything, because that's exactly how I feel. Only trouble is I don't have twenty years like he does, to let the technology mature. I'm going to have to do some major therapy in the next six or seven years. I'd also advice you to avoid anything they aren't sure they can reverse. Since he has a counter virus already that sounds like he thinks the same too. I'd just make sure he's tried the reversing virus out and ask him for a copy of it to hold," he suggested.
"When your folks decided to have you, the only thing I counseled them about your mods, was to not pick anything not very well tested and reversible. They're smart people; they already had already pretty much decided that by themselves. They avoided the German prodigy mod, thanks be, or you'd be needing meds to stay sane by now. This mod you're talking about, I have to say the way things look I'd give you better odds of survival if you have it. I don't think we're done with war in the inner system, during your lifetime, I'm very sorry to say."
"Oh?" April asked, sorry to hear that, because she trusted his judgment.
"I don't think we hurt North America hard enough to really make them feel defeated and the way some down there are complaining about the terms of surrender, I'm afraid we'll have to do it all over again and this time we may have to do it more than we would ever want to. In fact if he has any other mods to benefit a soldier, get ‘em."
That really surprised April. She had no idea he felt so strongly.
"Why don't you talk to him for us and see what you think? I already have Jeff going to ask him about the mod and that way I'll have the benefit of your opinion about him also. Not just for this one mod, but your gut feeling about him as a person and long term resource."
"OK," he grinned at her. "As I said I'm going to need some work before he does and I wasn't very happy about going dirt side to Italy or wherever to have it done. I'd rather stay up here and work with him, if I like him. If he can help me with some of the standard work, maybe I'll get a good deal being his Guinea pig too. I'll let you know."
"Thanks Gramps," she said getting loose of her perch and wiggling her toes ready to leave. "Love you," she reminded him. Then she turned back suddenly bashful. "I'm glad to find out you'll eventually do some life extension. I was worried you wouldn't for some reason, like Mom's folks. I want to have you around."
"Love you too, April," he gave a little wave goodbye, nodding at what she said and looking pleased as he went back to work.
At the other end of the cubic Jeff was already texting an order to Dave's shop, for dumb rods and some fancier reentry vehicles to carry the new weapons he was making.
Chapter 4
The dirtside news the next morning was very confusing to April. She tried to understand it as she walked along to the cafeteria. The newest controversy which had gained everyone's attention was a Chinese company offering a new pet modification. Whatever breed of dog you favored, they claimed to be able to greatly increase the intelligence of the pup. The immediate response in North America was a bill to ban the process, although nobody could even state clearly what the precise procedure was they were banning. Many experts were saying they didn't believe the claims, or believe intelligence could even be defined sufficiently to measure the claims. Others joked that you'd just get a dog that acted like a cat and some speculated using the procedure on an ape would endanger human's place on the top of life's pyramid. Others worried the technique would be applied to people, creating a new super race. The reporter interviewed those concerned that such a dog would have a soul and have to be given legal status as a person. Then he spoke with another activist indignant that anyone would doubt that the beloved friends of man didn't already have souls and a place in heaven with their masters.
When the reporter finally asked - "What do you say boy?" and presented the mic for a deep "Woof!" from a Shepherd-Mix, April gave up and switched her spex off. The people down there were all absolutely mad she was certain and she wondered that they kept things organized enough to keep most of them fed. She considered briefly if perhaps they just manufactured these news articles to fill dead air. She had seen a few dogs visiting Australia and once petted the neighbors' terrier when her grandfather told her how. He explained to her, when the dog leaned against her leg and looked up at her out on the veranda, that it wanted petted. She still didn't understand why it acted like that, or why it seemed to like her at all and had gone in and washed her hands carefully when she was done.
She didn't think dogs were very sanitary from what she had seen of that one and definitely felt you could boost their intelligence quite a bit, before you could notice much improvement. They just didn't generate the adoring fondness in her she had seen in others. Maybe you had to be raised with them to feel that bond. Now, Allison down in housekeeping had a ferret and even though it had a much smaller skull to hold brains, the little fellow seemed much smarter than a dog. It didn't slobber either.
Most of the businesses April was walking past here on the full G level, were large corporations like Mitsubishi itself. There was an office for SC/Rutan, Merck and Sony-Sun. There was also a few small shops that specialized in construction and services such accounting and Earth-side legal representation. She had noticed an office being remodeled the last few days behind a construction curtain, separating it from the corridor and this morning she was surprised to see it was now three separate tiny stores, each with a distinct decor and style. The first was done in a nautical motif, with lots of rope and a heavily carved wooden sign that proclaimed: Home Chandlery and Provision Co. She stopped, staring in the door unbelieving. There was a planked wood floor, with the individual boards pegged down with dowels, which ran to a low counter covered with carpeting, with a pair of heavy wooden chairs on the customer side and a tall wooden stool on the other. A couple flat screens scrolled pictures of the goods available and a sign gave their net address and invited - "Search our catalog and sign up for automatic updates and sales." The vertical sample bins behind the clerk's space were labeled. Chocolates and Candies - Coffees and Teas - Intoxicants and Spices - Fine Frozen Provisions - Fresh Fruits and Vegetables - Scents and Cosmetics - Pharmaceuticals - Weapons and Munitions - Defensive and Security Systems - Custom and Cut Dry Goods - Hard Wares and Materials – Domestic Appliances - IF YOU DON"T SEE IT WE"LL GET IT! - A big sign said above it all.
"Come in, come in, dear. Nobody else can come in while you're standing in the door." The fellow inviting her was sitting on the carpeted counter, eschewing the stool behind. His feet were well short of the floor and she realized with a start that he was a very small person. "You are the first person to step in my door. My very first walk-in even if you don't find something to become my first customer. But I will find something that you absolutely can't live without. If I can't, by damn, I'll find something you want to sell me! What you got to horse trade? I'm all fired up and ready to do some deals today."
April laughed at the good natured spiel and decided to stay a minute and see if she could give a little of it back. She skipped the chair and also sat on the broad counter cross legged. To do that she had to tilt the dagger in the front of her sash over so it didn't poke her and swept the muzzle of her laser back on her left so it didn't ride up off the counter.
"Ah, I've misjudged already. A person can't sit in those arm chairs easily, with weapons hanging. I'll have to see to that today. I'm Zach Bern, proprietor. I was just about to have a coffee, would you like to join me? It's of our own stock and I'd welcome your opinion of it."
"Please, that would be nice, but I'm on my way to breakfast and hungry, so I'll stay just for a cup and I'm off, though I'm sure I'll be back to this fascinating place."
The fellow looked even smaller, standing to get the coffee, even though the counter with the coffee pot was built to his height. He turned holding two huge white stoneware mugs, with a red logo and lettering that proclaimed his store and its physical address. "Keep the mug please. Drinking from a plastic mug seems so uncivilized to me. That's one of my goals to accomplish here, to bring a few more of those things to Home, that make life a little more enjoyable and comfortable. You're probably station born aren't you?" he inquired.
"Yes, but I've been Earthside to Australia and Hawaii and I go frequently to other stations. In fact I make ISSII and New Las Vegas at least monthly." She stopped and smelled the coffee carefully and took a long sip.
"Well? What do you think? Is that better than what you get in the cafeteria?" His face said he knew it was much better. The cafeteria coffee was from liquid concentrate and had a bit of a bite, almost a French Roast and cheap enough to offer the free refills everyone demanded.
"Oh yes. It's much better than the food service. I'm sure you'll sell a lot of it. Is it what you would call your house blend?"
"That's a fair description," he agreed, looking disappointed she didn't praise it more. "Are you a connoisseur of coffees?" he inquired, with perhaps a little skepticism.
"I have a friend Sylvia Anderson who invites me to dinner occasionally. I'm afraid she has spoiled me, by exposing me to all sorts of good things at her table."
"Do you know what she likes to serve? I appreciate fine coffee myself. But I'm limited of course in what I will offer commercially, by the price I think the market will bear."
"Sylvia served us a Jamaican coffee, but when I priced it I wasn't willing to pay what they wanted it's true. It was about six hundred North American dollars a kilo. I bought a nice Kona estate bean, that tastes as good to me and only cost four hundred a kilo, if you'll buy a twenty five kilo bag of green beans. That's what I make at home and what we brew on board working."
"You're talking about on board ship when you make these trips to the other stations? If you're responsible for other supplies, please consider if my new establishment can be of any assistance. I have to build a new network of contacts and customers here. But all that is just detail if I have what you need. Do you have a job title?"
April laughed and offered her hand. "I'm April Lewis. In a family business we don't have many labels. My brother is the primary owner and I'm the secondary technically, but we don't say President and Vice President. The only title that means anything is when we undock. I'm Master of the Armed Merchant Happy Lewis."
His eyebrows went up at that. "You mean you're the Captain?"
He accepted her hand and gave it a very gentle squeeze, not really a shake.
"Like this," she said and showed him the custom of touching finger tips to palm. That's how spacers do."
He blushed deeply, surprising her.
"That's" - she hesitated, searching for a word and rejected vulgar - "naughty where you were raised?"
He nodded embarrassed. "But if that's the custom here I'll adapt it. It'll just take a while to untrain my social reflexes."
"It were a military vessel I suppose you'd say Captain. The North Americans do. But it gets confusing because there is a rank of Captain but anyone of any rank is the Captain when they have overall command of a vessel. We don't need all that confusion, so we just say Master."
She had been reading the scrolling screens as they talked, but what had caught her eye was gone. "Shop," she asked, "please show the list of specials again." It ignored her, so he quickly edited it.
"Store, accept inputs for sign requests addressed to shop from any voice. Exclude price change, erasures, shut off and inventory information. Show specials."
The thin screen showed a short list -
Handmade Hungarian Apple Strudel with Almonds/Golden Raisins, guaranteed. 85.00 $NA
Fresh Hawaiian Pineapple - Ripe, whole and guaranteed. 32.00 $NA
Tree Ripe Washington Peach - Large and guaranteed. 6.00@ / 6 FOR 30.00 $NA
Fine Macedonian Milk Chocolate - 1 Kilogram - guaranteed. 11.00 $NA
Sig-Sauer 6mm caseless right handed in titanium with accessories: 3,214.00 $NA*
Rhineman - Howe African Influenza serum genotyped and dated. 35cc- 7 doses - 1,400 $NA*
Intel Pad-on-a-Chip Com multi-compatible with spex and case - 48.00 $NA
Cannabis Caribbean mix potency graded foil pack 200 grams guaranteed. 200.00 $NA *
Pipe tobacco cherry in tin potency graded 200 grams guaranteed. 370.00 $NA *
* Items requiring certification of majority and/or user agreement to respect environmental controls for common cubic and employment restrictions. Hazard warnings test/pass and waiver of liability mandatory. We reserve the right to refuse our trade to anyone for any reason.
"I'd like to send the six peach package and a pineapple to a friend as a gift. Do I have to hire a courier service, or can you deliver?"
"I'll have an automated cart soon, but for a few days I'll be making deliveries in person, at the end of the day if that's OK. I need to learn my way around and I'm hoping to meet my customers in person."
"OK, I'd like it delivered to Sylvia Anderson with a note just saying, ‘Enjoy - April'. You'll find them on E ring, deck seventeen. You can leave it with anyone there." She motioned with her pad she was ready to pay and he pointed out the secure port by the counter.
"The coffee lady, right?"
"Yes the same. You prefer USNA dollars?"
"Or EuroMarks, makes no difference. I'd like to meet her anyway, maybe she'll receive them. Do you want to see the goods first?"
"No I probably couldn't judge them anyway, but she'll give me an honest appraisal. Ripe peaches are something she mentioned once she misses." She beamed the money to him.
"Ok, I appreciate the handshake lesson too. Thanks"
"Hey, I'm starved. Sorry but I have to get to breakfast. Thanks for the coffee Zach."
April was delayed so long with Zach she was determined to not stop in the other stores. She'd just look them over in passing. The next shop was very conservative. Glass windows on each side of a glass door all framed out in a dark reddish wood. The Gold foil sign in the right window said: - Private Bank of Home - in an arch and all their financial services listed below it. So much for being first, with her suggestion to Jeff.
The inside didn't have any counters or teller windows, just a single Earth style desk and chairs, on a dark blue carpet with little yellow diamonds in it. The fellow working didn't look up as she passed. There was an open metal work door of vines and leaves going in the back room with a aged copper patina. But the massive hinges belied the delicate look of the grill work. What did catch her eye was in the left window there was another gilt sign, with a logo she wasn't familiar with at all. It was three golden globes suspended like cherries on their stems. The sign said Pawn Broker - Loans against Collateral - Valuables Bought and Sold.
That was new to her, she'd never seen a pawn shop, but she kept walking. The last shop in the newly remodeled stretch was much less conservative. It was a bright modern office, with an oatmeal colored carpet and a open bottom spacer style desk. The pedestal mounted screens on the desk could be moved around and there was a woman sitting working with an actual keyboard, instead of voice. She was in the sort of powered chair with foot rests, that changed shape under you constantly so you didn't get cramped up, or get a blood clot from sitting for hours.
There was a big white mug on her desk with red lettering, just like the one April was carrying. Apparently Zach made an early call here on his new neighbors. There was a comfortable waiting area and a couple thin see-through screens hanging in the window. The business name was a header on the screen, We Can Do It - Staffing and Personnel - Temp and Permanent. The bigger screen had a heading, - Positions - and a string of paragraphs describing them scrolled underneath, about as fast as you could comfortably read them. Despite her resolve, April hesitated to read a few.
Live in companion - household aide and companion for physically limited male. Light cleaning and personal assistance. Medical background helpful. Flexible schedule with vacations and retirement benefits by inheritance. No zivies or stinks. Private room, shared bath, small pet welcome. 60% gravity. Full English literacy a must. M/F, Gene Mod' and citizenship = Opp.
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Aerospace frame mechanic - Fabricating exp', some simple design skills. Multi-composite laying and molding. Vacuum welding and suited work . Lunar travel required. Weapons board watch exp' a plus. Boeing cert' a plus. Japanese or Tongan a plus. NO continuing USNA citizen status.
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Nanomechanical Design - Long term integration program to support gene mod variations. Biological exp' / Medical exp' / MD a plus. Italian or Chinese a plus. Frequent Earth travel required. Stock options. Substantial employee discounts. A contracted position. Verifiable ID.
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Private Security/Shuttle - Plainclothes, good pay and bonus program. Ability to operate independently. Proficiency with zero G and/or small arms a plus. Earth and Lunar travel. Mars possible. Verifiable identity and history to birth. Public Eye worn on duty. Personal integrity foremost. Japanese and golf skills a plus. No unresolved military or legal obligations. Approx. 8 duty days a month. Use of company condo on Tonga with personal locker for layovers. Use of company country club and boat. Per Diem for off planet duty. Must share genome for security purposes. Suit exp' a plus. Military/police exp' a plus. M/F, Gene mod. = opportunity.
The lady at the desk had glanced at her, when she first was mesmerized by the screen and went back to her work. April tore herself away and continued down the corridor strangely excited by the changes. Home was becoming more like a big city than a secluded village. Like most young people, that seemed much more interesting to her.
Chapter 5
By the time she got to the cafeteria it was past the rush. There were a half dozen people loitering over their coffee and watching the wall screen on which someone had put on a concert, listening on their spex. The icon in the corner said -LIVE- and wherever it was on Earth it was night. Wanda was working the serving line and was still smiling.
April had conducted a guerrilla campaign of trying to jolly Wanda for the last year to no avail. The woman was in a perpetual bad mood. Then last month she walked in one morning and Wanda turned around smiling and said, "Good morning Honey. My, you look pretty today. What would you like this morning? We got some fresh Raspberries in, if that sounds good." April almost turned and ran out the door, wary it was a trick. Wanda smiling was kind of scary. It seemed almost unnatural. April checked over the pocket - Yup, stitching still spelled out Wanda. The next day, as soon as she saw Ruby she inquired. "Uh - Ruby, has something happened with Wanda? I was in yesterday and she was acting strangely."
Ruby laughed and tried to act innocent but couldn't fake it. "Oh, April, how can I explain? You told me you kids take that med. Keeps you from bonding. From getting all obsessed with some big hunk of a man. Well Wanda doesn't do any anti-bonding med. She met a fine looking man who came through the line one morning and mostly they don't know anyone else is on board with them now. She was so taken with him she was going out to his table and topping his coffee off in order to chat him up"
April was incredulous. "Wanda?" she asked.
"They're both head over heels in love and so tickled with each other so you'd think she's sixteen. And they like it just fine like that. Aren't you happy for her though?"
"You're right, I don't have a lot of experience with that, Haven't even been sixteen yet myself, don't forget," she reminded Ruby, after the remark about age that rankled a bit, "but if it makes her that happy, who am I to knock it, if that's what she wants. I have a lot of other things to do right now myself. As long as he's a good guy. You figure he's OK?"
"Honey, they don't let many real creeps sneak through up here, but he seems real nice, maybe just a little nerdy. Shy and smart. He's an economist of all things. Wears a brush cut and has a face full of freckles like you. Real skinny too. How long do you think that'll last?"
They both laughed at that. Dating a cook could be hazardous to your waistline.
That was a month ago. Wanda didn't seem to be losing her glow at all. Then April saw the ring.
"Whoa," April exclaimed, throwing up a hand to shield her eyes. "I'm blinded. That rock throws a glare that's dangerous. How about dimming the lights a little?"
"How you do go on," Wanda tried to pout through a smile. It didn't work well. "I had to keep Harold from buying a silly thing even bigger than this, that I would have been bumping all the time and he couldn't afford. Men are just not practical at all. It's the thought that counts, not how many carats it weighs."
"Well that pebble says a lot about his thoughts. When are you looking to get married?"
"He wanted to do it right away, after he only knew me a month. I've seen too many rush into it and be sorry. I told him after he's been here six months he'll have leave due and if he still wants to marry we'll go down together and make our leave a honeymoon. He already made the reservations to drop on Tonga and we'll visit Australia and lift back through NLV before coming home." Despite her demands they wait, she didn't seem too worried he'd change his mind.
"Congratulations. I'm happy for you. So you will be coming back and still be here?" she indicated the cafeteria with a look around.
"Oh sure, I have seniority built up and he's just starting with the Bank. I wouldn't give up the security and we can use the money. Besides I love my job."
April couldn't believe the change. She was always sure Wanda hated being here.
It tickled her to see the effect wasn't wearing off. She liked the new Wanda. She assembled a serious breakfast being way past her normal time, with three kinds of meat and a plate of eggs, with cheese grits and a stack of buckwheat pancakes. That should hold her two or three hours. She grabbed a handful of butter slices and a couple pouches of syrup.
She filled up her new mug, which held about twice as much as a cafeteria cup. It was so heavy it made the whole tray heavier. When she turned for the tables Jerry Ames was sitting off to the back, like she liked to do, but she didn't aim for him, just waited to see if he wanted company. She didn't want to make a pest of herself, where people couldn't get away. But when he looked up, he did indicate the seat opposite him if she wanted. She made her way over, but asked him, "Mind if I sit beside you instead? I like to people-watch."
"No, not at all. If you see me here you're welcome to join me. But if you don't, I won't assume you're mad at me or anything. Sometime you might just not feel like company. I'm flexible."
"Oh you have a mod for that too?" she asked. "Can you do a number like the rubber man at the circus?" she joked.
He started to say something with a devilish grin and then his face shut down and he dropped it.
"What?"
"I find myself a victim of my cultural conditioning. I thought of a really wicked jab to say, but no matter how adult you are legally, I still found myself repelled at the idea of saying something risqué to you, because you are still visibly a young girl. It seemed very vulgar and unfunny suddenly. I suppose if I had been with a bunch of guys, after a few beers, I would have gone ahead and thought it hilarious. I hope you're not too much of a good influence."
"Don't worry," she said, patting his arm. "Even if we keep it squeaky clean, don't forget that ‘expensive damage, death and destruction' follow close behind me."
He recognized the quote as his own and they both roared with laughter, until even the people using their spex looked over at their table.
"I discussed this gene mod with my grandfather and both he and Jeff Singh are going to discuss it with you. My grandfather was very positive about it. We may have some further business for you also. I'd like to have the undo virus however, so if anything happens to you I still have it. You are a defector and who knows if they may have you on a list to assassinate if they can. I'm certainly on one I'd think. And here you sit in a public area," she scolded, "and didn't even get a steak knife on your tray. You trying to camouflage yourself as an Earthie?"
"You mentioned that before, but I have no training. Is there anywhere I could get trained with a weapon, if I buy one?"
"I'm not sure. I have some friends that might arrange something but I'll have to ask. I'll get back to you on that. How about the virus? You willing to dispense the undo version with the treatment?"
"Yes, but you'll have to have cryogenic storage. Is there someplace on station that can do that for you? A clinic maybe?"
"If liquid nitrogen temperature is good enough, I'll have my own private storage here and on another station for redundancy in a few days."
That's good enough, yes. But why have storage on another station? What could happen to it here, that wouldn't happen at another?"
"If a certain nation with the initials U-S-N-A, just happens to nuke Home to vapor is why. That's why everybody has been keeping their financial records and accounts dispersed, so they have something if they don't have a Home to come back to. Lots of folks divided their heirlooms and such and some families have sent their kids off to earth schools, or relatives, until the situation looks stable to them. It's only been a year and instead of accepting the situation and learning to live with it, some of the North Americans are allowing us to become, as my French friend would say, a 'fixe idee'. They can't let it drop. And even my grandpa is concerned we might end up fighting again."
"But nuclear weapons. I can't believe in this day and age they'd resort to them."
April laughed aloud at his expression. "You said they were trying to hide from the public just how bad we pounded them. Everybody up here already knows, they tried to use nukes on us last year. They targeted us with two nuke missiles and they were intercepted."
Jerry looked shocked. "There were reports of that in Australia. They quoted the Koreans as saying their satellites saw explosions, but the mainstream press denied it all. Nobody had any pictures of it and most everybody believed it was just a few nut case web sites, reporting crazy conspiracy fantasies. They didn't give it any more credence, than the crazy idea you guys caused the Great San Diego earthquake."
April just looked at him with a delicate little Mona Lisa smile. He finally got it and just buried his face in his hands and said, "Ohhhhh my God." After a while he regained composure from the revelation, took a sip of his coffee and looked askance at her. "And they really want to mess with you guys again, when you can do that?"
"With us," she suggested. "You've pretty well hitched your fortunes to our star haven't you? Are you going to join in making laws and paying tax?"
"I'm not worried about paying the tax, but I wonder if I'll have the time to listen to the long winded debates and actually know what vote I should cast."
"Two things that can help with that," she offered. "Last month we had another motion to make a park, that a fellow has been making every month. It would be nice, but we can't afford it. We wouldn't mind hearing something new, but this fellow will consume about a thousand man hours of our time every month, to make the exact same pitch if we let him."
"So a fellow stood up and asked Mr. Muños, who has volunteered to supervise the elections, if his server keeps track of how many are logged on to follow and vote. He said yes. So the fellow made a motion himself, that if a speech for a motion was being made, another box should be made active on the screen to click, that was an ‘I've heard enough.' box. If 30% of the listeners clicked that, it warned the speaker to wrap it up. If the number grew to 40%, it gave him 30 seconds to wrap it up and bring it to a vote. And if 50% said they'd heard enough it just plain cut him off and put it straight to a vote. Coming right after the park guy, it passed with the widest acceptance of any vote we've had to date."
"The other thing is, Muños is supposed to make a page on the voting site, where you can check ahead of time and read all the proposals that have been prepared ahead. Only thing is, once it's being debated on the floor a proposal can change quite a bit. First election we had my grandfather made a motion and proposal and in just a few minutes I suggested a modification of it and got it passed. But it does tell you ahead of time what some of the ideas are that will be discussed."
"So you've had a hand already in forming the law here. That's amazing."
"You can too, if you have some good ideas. Just be warned. The people here don't like being told what's good for them. They won't put up with somebody trying to regulate them like you see Earthside. We had one fellow already who came up to show us the light. He got up and condemned everyone and cursed them as sinners, for refusing to vote in a theocracy with him as chief interpreter of God's will. Next motion proposed, put him on a shuttle for dirt. He was banished before he even got to stay a night and can't come back. Only been three banished so far and a few more left on their own of course."
"More coffee?" he asked, as he got up for his own refill. He seemed to enjoy doing that and she agreed. He went off with her mug tilted up, reading the ad.
"Where'd you get this?" he asked when he came back, despite the address on the face. "I like it. You want me to carry a weapon around. I figure I can just carry one of these. One good smack with this thing should chill any assailant right out," he quipped.
"When you go out the door, turn against spin and it's on the North side of the corridor about 15 degrees around."
He started making circling motions with his hands and turned sideways in his chair, looking over at the corridor door. Obviously clueless.
"Uh, Go out the door. Turn right and go past three dividers in the corridor and on your left will be three small new shops, that have been remodeled out of one big one and opened this morning. The mug guy is the far one, with all the ropes and nautical stuff. Be sure to tell him I sent you, so I get my commission and he'll give you a mug. If he gives you coffee don't rave on it too much. It'll go to his head."
Jerry face said he didn't know whether to take her seriously or not. April bet he'd name her to Zach, just like she said. After the shakeup he just had about true nature of the war, he was probably ready to believe just about anything.
Any temptation he had to grill her about it, was preempted though by Margaret coming up to their table.
"Is this a private party, or can I sit and harass you this morning?" she asked, sweetly.
"Sure, have a seat, but the good side for people watching is all taken," April pointed out.
"I get paid to watch people. As long as you don't let anybody sneak up on me, I'll turn my back to them and be glad for the break. After awhile you find yourself profiling them on your own time, out of habit. I just don't know how to shut it off," she confessed.
"Margaret is a detective. She works with Jon in Security," April explained to Jerry. "She often does the gate security for the incoming shuttle."
"This is my new friend Jerry, Margaret. A fairly new immigrant to Home," she explained.
"I wondered something the other day, you could probably explain," Jerry asked. "Since everyone can carry weapons now on Home, what is there to keep the USNA from sending up a shuttle full of soldiers in civilians clothing and just walking right in, armed to the teeth and taking over like they wanted to before? If you saw a bunch coming in that looked the right age and type, to be doing that, what would you do? You couldn't stop the whole shuttle full of them yourself after all, could you?"
Margaret smiled at him. "You're right. Last batch they sent up, I only killed the first twelve through the hatch and the rest got away." She watched carefully, to see if that disturbed Jerry enough he'd be finding a reason to leave. A lot of people were uncomfortable with a woman warrior. "Time to give someone else a turn I'd say. I'd just call Jon and say I think we have a bunch of soldier boys here and the militia would get a broadcast that there might be a fight. It's true, we might lose a dozen or so militia, because of letting them in, but look at that crowd over there eating a late breakfast," Margaret suggested. "How would you characterize them?"
Jerry hadn't twitched at her blunt recital and looked the crowd over, like he hadn't been studying them every morning for a couple weeks in great detail. "Well it's late, so you have the retired and semi-retired, that get up late and the self employed who are on their own schedule. I happen to know that one fellow there in the denim is a writer. Quite successful actually. I've read a few of his mysteries myself. The man at his table with the bandana around his neck, is a fellow who trades securities for himself online. He's one of those multitasking people, who can talk with you while he's eating breakfast and he types in orders with his left hand, while eating with his right and carrying on a conversation, all the time following seventy or eighty stocks scrolling on the pad in front of him. He can watch all of them, with the attention we'd struggle to give one at a time." He turned his attention to April momentarily, "Now there is something, when I figure out what combination of genes gives you that talent, I'll treat myself to it for sure."
"Deal," April agreed. "Put me on the list right behind you. Doesn't matter what you charge. I want it."
"Whoa! You mean you can really do that?" Margaret asked.
"In my own modest way, I am pushing back the envelope of such treatments, yes. But I have to be honest about this one. I have no idea how far off such a treatment is in the future. But it is something I've studied, that has all the earmarks of an innate inherited talent. It is one of the manifestations of instant calculating and perfect memory. It seems to appear in certain populations as a recessive, more than individual families, which drives me nuts. It may be related to perfect pitch and a couple other qualities. Some of which are not especially desirable, such as some forms of autism."
Margaret shook her head, obviously rattled. "We have to talk more about that, but back to the crowd here. How many do you think are armed over there?"
"Looks like about two thirds to me," Jerry allowed.
"Yes," she agreed, "maybe three quarters, if a few carry concealed and that is about what you see walking around in the corridor. And you'd be surprised how heavy the stuff is people are packing. I've even seen people with long guns slung. Even the people carrying lighter calibers, seem to have an affection for armor piercing ammo I've noticed. I'm guessing they remember the suits the Earthies wore last time. So if they send a shuttle full of soldiers up and they all come out bent on shooting the place up, how far will they get? They might not have armor like last time, but even supposing they take out two or three civilians for each one of them, that gets shot, which I doubt, how far will they penetrate?"
"Uh, until they run into the first hundred or so civilians walking around," he concluded, amazed. "It would be kind of stupid wouldn't it?"
"That's the best argument I've heard yet, that they will eventually try it," she agreed
"Then what would happen?" Margaret asked.
"Well, I assume you'd have your ambassador deliver a letter of protest?" he guessed.
"We don't have an ambassador. I doubt if you could get anyone here to take the job. You'd have to live down below on the slum ball and spend every day dealing with politicians. Most of us would rather muck out stables for a living," she quipped.
"If they try to invade us again, it starts us back at square one, at a state of war. Without going into a lot of ugly detail, we explained that we let them off really easy this time, but if we had to fight again, they'd better figure on losing at least half their population and the politicians would be targeted again first. Now the question is - Do they believe? They're such a bunch of liars themselves, I'm not sure they can really believe somebody else isn't just like them. Let's hope they don't test us," she concluded.
"OK, you've convinced me. It's my civic duty to get something capable of taking out an armored suit and lug the damn thing around everywhere I go. I still need somebody to show me how to use it too, but I'll do it. What do you two recommend?"
"Nothing beats a Singh laser pistol like April has, if you can afford it," Margaret stated as a flat certainty. "It's lighter than a firearm. Burns through literally anything and can shoot for hours on a charge. It shoots where you point it, without all the knowledge you need of ballistics for conventional arms. And you can turn the power down and practice with it, where you can't with full load bullets, because we don't have anywhere on Home for a target range yet."
"If you can afford it? Tell me how much we're talking here."
Margaret looked expectantly at April for an answer.
"This is a Mark IV," she explained drawing it and offering it to him. "I kept the first one Jeff built me, because it has nostalgia value to me. But I'm a shareholder in Singh Industries, so whenever he makes a new model I trade him my old one, for the new model and I'm a beta tester. This model isn't for sale yet. He'll let a half dozen of us use it for a bit, before he finalizes the design."
"And how much will that retail for, do you think? Jerry still wanted to know.
"Last I heard, he was asking about fifteen thousand EuroMarks for the current model. That will come down after he sells a few dozen and of course it makes the previous model come down in price. Trouble is, after just a year, the Mark II is already starting to go back up in price, because it's collectable. We only made twenty of the Mark I and the one I carried was the first one to be visible in the press, so it became prime of type for Jane's Weapons of The World. In fact, their photo on the model shows me shooting it off a news photo. I didn't realize it at the time, but Jeff is so systematic that he hand wrote a serial number inside the case of all the Mark I copies with a vacuum felt tip and signed them, which really increased the value. Mine is number 01. I've already had an unsolicited offer for it, of seventy thousand bucks USNA."
Jerry took the pistol she had drawn. It was very light and had a bulge on the end of the stubby barrel. The box shape of the Mark I was gone. The grips were very finely and sharply diamond checkered, so it was like griping a piece of sand paper. It looked pretty cheap. The case was plain carbon fiber composite and it no longer carried a screen. You had to use a pop up scope, or your spex to shoot it. A full screen was now reserved for a heavy two handed weapon, equivalent to a heavy machine gun, which even had its own lidar.
"So what is the difference between this and a Mark III?"
"This is a bit lighter. It has a smaller power pack, because nobody has ever used the capacity of the old ones. We've made the big pack an option. It can speak two hundred fourteen languages to communicate. It has more advanced ultra sound sensing, to make sure beside DNA testing, that the hand holding it is really attached to a live person. It has the ability to be set to a lower self destruct blast, that won't do so much damage. And it has the ability to be set to give a single emergency shot, that will fire at a very high discharge rate until the laser parts self destruct from the overload. But it pumps out a big burst, for at least a half second until that happens."
"Big enough to do what?" Jerry wondered.
"Well, Jeff assured me it would destroy a main battle tank, or any known aircraft or spacecraft, with a single well placed shot, if you tell it what you're shooting at. And it does have a self aiming utility that will help you track a target once you identify it and get the pistol pointed in the right general direction. If you tell it what sort of target you are acquiring, it can give you a lot of help, if it is dark, or you are injured, or your spex are messed up. It will change the aim point for you while firing too. If you tell it that you are shooting at a tank, it will keep the fire centered until it sees a break through. If you are shooting at an aircraft, it will weave the beam around to chop it up. See the roll around the end of the barrel?"
"Yeah, that gives it a nice Flash Gordon sort of look. What does that do?"
"If you invoke the special high power shot, it has a gold covered Mylar film rolled up in there. When the shot is taken in air, it blows a small charge and the film is thrown out in a big circle, so it reflects the atmospheric backscatter off your beam. Otherwise you'd fry yourself from the radiation off the beam and reflections off any nearby surfaces. Trouble is we haven't had anywhere to test that feature yet. Jeff said he might get the rock owners to let him try it out, firing into the Rock as a backdrop, but he has yet to get all the permissions he needs.
Jerry tried to picture what kind of power it took to be that dangerous, just from the leakage that got away from where you were trying to direct it. That was awesome.
"Why does it need so many languages?" If a user needed a different language, couldn't you add it when it was bought?"
"Yes you could, but he's trying to cover not legitimate owners, but anyone that might take possession of it. There are some things inside Jeff doesn't intent to patent and he doesn't intend to share. So if an unauthorized person keeps trying to use the gun, or open it, they are warned it will self destruct. If the full charge is on the power pack, the self destruct can be about four kiloton. But if the low power option is selected on this new model, it allows you downsize that, to just enough to vaporize the guts of the thing."
"Four kiloton? You mean if it self-destructs, it has the power of a small atomic bomb going off?" he seemed to hold it a little more delicately.
"Sure. If you are captured and they try to open this puppy up or use it, you might as well give them the rudest surprise you can. It's set low now, because I wouldn't want the big of a charge to go off in Home. But when we take trips off Home, I tell it to crank up the self destruct level."
"Then Home has the equivalent of nuclear weapons, " he spoke aloud, realizing it. "And cheap too, because you couldn't build a small fission bomb for fifteen thousand. I know I've read they cost millions." Do they know this down below?"
"Well, again, we've told them. But if they believe it or not is another thing," April admitted. "I have some interceptor missiles on the Happy Lewis now, that are tipped with a ten kiloton version of the same thing. So if anybody messes with us in orbit, they'll get a demo that will be very convincing."
"It is light and you don't have to carry separate cartridges, but that's a lot of money for a pistol. I'm not broke, but I have to establish myself here and get a regular clientele before I start buying luxury items," he said, regretfully.
"Hmm," April considered the problem a bit. "How about, if we swap you a pistol, upgrades and service for it and carry anything you want couriered to other stations or Luna for the next year and transport for yourself as passenger on any of our regular flights and you supply inoculations for the Singh and Lewis families beyond mine? I'll still buy at the full price as agreed? I can run that past Jeff and see what he thinks."
"Just for the current modification we're discussing? And we'll negotiate for any further modifications later? And you'll take samples I need protected and disperse them, like you were talking about, to not two, but three locations. Two stations and Luna, so if something happens I'll have stock to restart my program. And you'll take new samples from time to time, to deposit at those locations? I think I could do that. Let me think about it just a bit first."
"This mod and first rights on the multitasking. I'll ask Jeff tonight and see if he'd be interested on those terms"
"How about if I buy into Singh Industries as a partner? You say that gets you a free pistol when the new model comes out. I'm always watching for shrewd investments. How many partners are there?"
"Well, Jeff's company is separate from his step-mom's, don't get them confused. Her firm is Singh Technologies. There's only three equal partners to Jeff's company, so it's pretty closely held. We'd have to see extraordinary circumstances, to allow somebody to buy in."
"And how much would that cost me?" he kept pressing. It was as rude as asking a Texan how many head of cattle he ran. So April was irritated enough by that pushy side of his personality, she decided to answer him truthfully.
"The last time we had to declare a value on company assets for insurance purposes, they agreed to value them at three hundred billion dollars." There were Earth companies with assets in trillions of dollars, but it was not a mom and pop business valuation.
Jerry was caught in mid swallow and lost all fine control when his brain processed that number. He gagged on it and used his reflexes to excellent advantage by getting a napkin up to his mouth at super speed and coughing into it in spasms. It tapered off into sputtering and it looked like he would live. It took awhile to get it totally under control and he wiped his eyes with a fresh napkin. It was mean to drop that on him, but he had really been pushy and nosey. She didn't think he'd do that again. And he didn't challenge the number. She didn't tell him it was mostly potential income over the life of his intellectual property, not cash in hand by any stretch.
"OK kiddies," Margaret complained. Sensing it was time to change the subject. "You are killing me with curiosity. Can you tell me what this modification is? Is it something I could afford, or is it really expensive?"
"It's pretty steep Margaret, but the nature of it, is it's more useful if you don't let everyone know you have it. So do you mind telling her, Jerry?"
"No," he said looking surprised. "If I'm committed to selling it now, secrecy works against me. I guess I was trapped by the same idea, that I'd keep it secret I had the mod personally, because it made me safer. That was fine on Earth. But reconsidering the idea now, I should have been showing off to everybody, as a form of advertising. I have a small alteration to the nervous system," he informed Margaret. "I have a little bit faster reactions than most people," he explained, making it sound very minor.
She wasn't fooled. The services she heard being offered on top of cash, were not a reasonable trade for something like a flu shot. This had to be pretty special. "How fast? Can you show me?"
Jerry pursed his lips and thought about it. He cleared their trays away and put the pepper shaker in the middle of the table. "Go with April first. Put your hand down, with the palm off the edge of the table." He fiddled with his pad a minute. "When my pad beeps, see who can get the shaker first. He tilted the pad back, so he wouldn't give any visual clues.
"Beep." April had a hand firmly over the little cylinder and Margaret's hand was on top of hers almost as fast. The next try they both tried to wrap their hands around in a dead heat and it popped straight up in the air. Jerry reached and snatched it out of the air, before it could even tumble over. Margaret just looked at the speed of that grab speechless. "Wanda will get upset with us if we spill pepper and waste it," he explained.
"OK. Put it down there and have April start us," she said, with a very determined air.
Jerry passed her the pad and showed her the hot key. When the beep came he not only had the pepper before Margaret, he had it back close to him sitting on the table, with his hand off it, before she could reach where it had been. Then he sat it about a hundred centimeters from Margaret's side of the table, very close, leaving himself four times that distance to match her.
When the beep came, Margaret did seem faster this time. She seemed to have willed an adrenaline high and she was so fast you could hear their hands collide. But the shaker was already firmly wrapped in his hand when they bumped.
"Ahh! I think you have some of my skin under your nails," he said, looking at his knuckles.
"We better stop before one of us hurt," she agreed, rubbing her own hand, he had batted away.
"You are fast. I wish I could buy that, but I just work for a salary and don't have access to the kind of money so many do on Home. If I ever do I'll come see you."
That visibly bothered Jerry. "I have to get some pretty significant payments from people to survive myself," he said defensively. "If I start selling my mods cheaper, it's just human nature that even if they have the money, they won't pay more if they know it can be had for less. There are plenty who, even if I based it on ability to pay would lie to get it cheaper. When I figure I can sell it to you without hurting my business, I'll tell you, OK?"
"That's more than I'd ever ask," Margaret assured him. "I'm sure it'd worth every centum, but if you don't have it you don't have it."
"Do what you need to," April encouraged him. "But there's another aspect of it you should consider."
"What's that April?"
"Margaret and the others in Security are the people guarding your front door. They meet the shuttles coming in. If they are a little quicker to deal with whatever comes out of the lock, you are safer. So if you get to where you can offer a special deal to people who work Security, I think people will understand it's a form of self interest."
That said they were all done and broke up the meeting. Two companions for breakfast was even better than one, April thought.
Chapter 6
April called up Jon Davis, Head of Security, a close friend and comrade at arms in the events of last year. Last year he and his man Frank had met up with April and Easy in the corridors, after each pair ambushed the invading North Americans and harried them through the corridors to the Holiday Inn. It was the only battle of the war to reach inside Home. The last few surviving invaders reached the Inn lobby, only to find the innkeeper and traitor they expected to extract, trussed and stunned. Neil McAlpine was waiting for them behind the check in counter, with a disguised claymore mine hanging on the front of it to greet them. His action stymied an attempted theft of Jeff Singh's proprietary technology, held in the hotel safe. Those devices had been critical to the success of their rebellion. Now Jon remained as Head of Security for the station, but by vote of the people and he wore a second hat as Head of the Militia.
"Jon I have a friend I'd like to be able to send somewhere, to be instructed in handling small arms. What do you do for your own people in security? Do you have somewhere you go shoot to stay in practice? I use my laser and I have a target and can set it to low power and practice, but I have no formal instruction at all. I wouldn't mind having someone show me how to use a projectile weapon properly. I own a couple of them I've never shot."
"That's always been a problem. Even when North America was picking up the tab, they never wanted to build us a range here. It was always too expensive. They always wanted the security people to go to an Earth range, when they finished their groundside leave and requalify before coming back up. That frequently ran into problems. Sometimes a whole family went dirtside and they didn't want to split up and come back separate. Or the spouse couldn't get extra days off their job."
"I can't blame my people if they don't want to use their vacation days to shoot. And some like Theo never wanted to take groundside leave anyway. I ended up writing her a couple exemptions. I don't have a solution yet, but what I'd really like is an actual walk through tactical trainer, not just a shooting range with targets. It's about as impractical as the park that fellow wants. Maybe we could afford a facility on the Moon," he considered it a moment.
"Maybe somebody even has such a thing there and we could rent or borrow time on it. I'll look into that. I never thought of it before, but it would be better that no training at all. And a lot cheaper to go to Luna, than down the deeper gravity well to Earth. Not to mention easier politically now."
Chapter 7
"Sis', can you do a quick turnaround to NLV for a medical dispatch and bring back the regular mail bag?" Bob Lewis asked, looking out of her com pad screen. April had a full license now, it only took her a few months to run up enough hours to lose apprentice status.
"Sure. Who's free to ride shotgun?" April asked. "I want to take Click in and have him deal with customs for training. Then I have some personal errands to run. The medical isn't a passenger is it?"
"No it's just a freezer pack. I didn't even ask what's in it. They didn't ask guaranteed delivery, so it must not be a panic run with somebody laying on the operating table. Edwards is on standby. Is he OK?"
"Sounds good. You call Dave and I'll call Click and Edwards."
April split the screen and called up Click. "Can you second the Happy, to shape for NLV in thirty minutes?" Satisfied she called Edwards. "Can you fly third, for dock guard on the Happy to NLV in thirty minutes? - Good. - You won't need to step off and I don't care what ya bring, as long as it is lethal and doesn't mass more than you do," she replied to his questions. She looked a question at Bob.
"Dave's man Del says the Happy Lewis is ready to go. It has air, mass and deuterium," Bob said, but he had been laughing and carrying on with Del about something, that plainly wasn't business and wasn't shared with her.
Del was crude and it bothered April that Bob liked someone who could be so vulgar. But Bob took her sour look wrong, thinking she doubted the ship status.
"If it isn't ready to go you know Dave. If his man said it's ready when it's not, he'll strap the load on the guys back and point which direction he should jump at the lock," Bob said, without a trace of the previous humor. "I'll call UPS and FedEx too and offer them a cheap transfer, if they have anything ready to fly in the launch window."
* * *
Six hours later, docked at NLV, April was conscious she had limited time before they had to depart and hurried away from NLV Customs. Dockage at New Las Vegas was so busy they charged by the hour instead of the day, so they didn't dawdle at dock. She was moving a little faster through the crowd than most people liked, but she didn't bump anyone, so she got a few dirty looks, but nobody complained out loud to her, even though she passed a few groups by doing a dive and bounce off the opposite wall, when there were openings in the traffic.
Young kids were expected to do that, but April was nearly fifteen and wearing a foreigner's pass that was only issued to adults. The corridors in New Las Vegas were different than Home. They were wider, the materials more luxurious and the colors were brighter, even in the zero G sections the tourists avoided. The corridors in spin were claustrophobic from the crush of humanity just before the holiday and the outspin area was still busier than it ever was at Home. There was just a whole lot more zero G cubic too, not all of it even attached. Some was a separate industrial area, like a warehouse district.
At Home, there were a few recreational businesses like hand ball courts outside spin, but most of it was industrial and dockage. Here there were restaurants and even a small hotel for those that did not care to go in spin. The hotel got occasional Earthies, determined to sample the delights of zero G sex, but they soon moved to spin, when they found everything requires different skills in micro gravity and the spacer's favorite zero G bed, was a cross between a hammock and a sausage casing. Station born just rolled their eyes at their naiveté.
There were also companies servicing the ship trade, with goods that could be moved straight to their customer's ship without the delay of having to come out of spin. The place April was headed to so fast, was The Superior Cheeseburger Factory. She was, as usual, hungry and should have an hour before her cargo was on board and she had to leave.
Their new crewman Cletus, who preferred to be called Click, had the manifest. She had gone over with him and looked to make sure the customs officer was one she'd dealt with, before leaving him. Click shouldn't have any trouble. The manifest should be plenty for Customs since they were not subject to them, except as a courtesy. It was his second trip, so he should be learning how to handle things. She checked her clock in the corner of her spex, to make sure she was figuring correctly. Yes, she had time to grab lunch; breakfast was a long time ago and she was starved.
The doorway to the eatery was completely adapted to zero G. It was a round portal, with a bright brass grab and swivel banister, surrounding the opening on four standoff posts. The decor was all dark green and gold, with Oak panels even outside on the corridor. April bounced a zig zag around a couple of slow movers and ended the last zag swinging into the opening off the brass rail, aiming straight across the restaurant to the counter instead of using a booth.
The fellow who ran the place just held up two fingers, with an inquiring look on his face and she nodded enthusiastically. He only saw her every two or three weeks, but they had established her standard order was two cheeseburgers with everything, garlic fries and a big coffee. He turned his back and grabbed near a quarter kilo of ground sirloin in his hand and rough shaped it against his other palm. The sight of bare hands against raw meat alone would have closed his doors forever Earthside, but a health department was one of those bureaucracies that most orbital dwellers were still deliberately avoiding. However the community was still small enough, that if anyone had doubted the cleanliness of his hands his doors would be quickly closed for lack of business anyway. April noted he wiped his hands on a disposable wet towlette from the dispenser, every time he turned back to cook. Not only that, but a lot of people now had a laser scanner in their com pads, that could detect offensive bacteria and quite a few were not shy to check everything they bought to eat. The roughed out patty went into a press grill with two heated platens and it squished the meat to the precise proper thickness and sizzled as it charred sear lines in the faces. He loaded a second press quickly and removed the first patty as soon as the second was started.
April had never gotten him to tell her his name. Whenever she asked he always said, "You'd never pronounce it right anyway. Just call me Cheesy. Everybody does."
The finishing touches involved sealing all the onions, mushrooms, olives and condiments, in a massive layer of cheese, that bound them to the patty and rendered the whole construction mechanically feasible in zero G. A real cheeseburger was as hard to make as a Sloppy Joe, so it didn't self destruct to a cloud of drifting parts in zero G. A proper Joe was held together by surface tension.
Cheesy capped the second burger with a beautiful golden toasted sesame seed bun and spun around on the elastic toe strap he used to locate himself at the grills and deposited the basket in front of her. He waited to pin the last burger through with a hefty toothpick, so he could make a comment on her cooking preference. When he slid the skewer home as a finishing touch, he said "Moooo!" as it pierced the patty.
"Oh good!" April shot back. "You finally got it rare enough."
"If it was any rarer, we might be able to resuscitate it," he assured her.
She took a huge bite and leaned way back on the stool. Hanging on with her toes under the grab bars and presenting both hands palm up to him in a big show, to forestall any conversation while she leisurely savored the first bite.
"Nothing should be that good you horrible, horrible man. Why won't you come to Home and open a nice place in spin there?"
"I like the spacer trade," he explained again, but he was smiling at her pleasure, behind a huge moustache, because he liked hearing how good his food was. "You don't have enough business outside of spin for me. Maybe when you guys get your act together and build a new station. Everybody keeps wondering when it's going to happen. If you don't hurry up, all the stable node points will be occupied and you'll be at an economic disadvantage in a less stable orbit."
Cheesy's economic analysis was so similar to what her business savvy brother was telling her, that she wondered again about his background. When she first came here, he wore a checkered cloth wound around his head Middle Eastern style. When she asked where he was from, he just said Persia. Last time she looked Persia wasn't on any maps, unless they were in history books. The headgear had switched one day with a baseball cap, that said "Larkin's Lunar Lines" in hot pink on gray, with a stylized rocket ship and moon. She didn't know if it was a gift, or if some crewman left it behind when he ate.
"Why don't we each kick in a trillion EM and get the ball rolling?" she suggested. April didn't have a trillion EuroMarks, anymore than he did, but if he knew how much closer she was than him, it would have shocked him.
He smiled back at her real big, "Will you take my check?"
"You bandit. You don't even know how many zeros to write for a trillion do you?"
"Hey, if you have to count zeros, you can't afford it."
April couldn't figure out if that was a misquote, or if he had coined a whole new saying.
It was no surprise, to see two young fellows in French military flight coveralls, with their flag and rank markings came in after April and sit, politely leaving a stool between them and her. They wore the sort of one piece padded garment crews in a big ship used in peace time. Too bulky to comfortably use as a suit liner, except in an emergency. But thick enough to pad against bumps in a crowded zero G environment and warm enough to allow running a cool ship. The crew of the Happy Lewis however, always wore p-suits when they left dock. Their cabin was so small a leak could drop them below breathable pressure in seconds. The nearest Frenchman hit the stool like a bird landing on a fence post, but the other was an obvious newbie. He grasped the rim of the seat, struggling to wrap his feet around the toe bars like his buddy, but floating away. His friend grabbed a pinch of fabric at the small of his back and hauled him down firmly. After studying how the other held on a bit he soon copied the technique. When he looked over and saw the bare laser pistol holstered on April, cross draw style, he was so startled he almost floated away again.
"Mon dieu. Est-cela permis?" he inquired, in hushed tones of his friend.
The experienced one laughed and leaned back to clear the space between April and his friend. "Say hello to my new crewman Paul for me, so he can tell his family how he met a real live pirate from Home and lived to tell the tale. If I may introduce myself also, I am John."
"Now be nice Monsieur. We did carry letters of marque and reprisal in the war, but we have this nice treaty with the North Americans now, so they get to keep New Las Vegas today, instead of it being my prize. But that doesn't mean I'm going to walk around their territory naked either," she assured him, laying her hand flat over her weapon to make clear what she meant.
The newbie looked at her gesture, but his eyes continued up from there and he was noting with approval her snug black outfit. She was just starting to get a little bit of a figure and she was as sleek as a cat in the outfit and knew it. A North American would have been ashamed or at least wary to inspect someone as young as April, indeed North America was so prudish now, that you could get arrested and interrogated for just a lingering look in a public place. She would have been offended soon at the inspection, if he hadn't had the grace to look away and actually blush when his eyes reached hers and he found himself caught out.
"Citizens of Home have rights of free passage and are entitled to follow their own law and custom transversing USNA territory," she explained. "That and a few other small things were imposed in the terms of their surrender. For example, my cargo being loaded has been declared to Customs, so they know what's on board if we have a fire or something. The emergency crews would know if there were any hazardous materials. That serves everyone. But they can't impose tariffs, or tell me I can't take anything through. Just a few small privileges, someone else might not have."
"So the gun?" the newbie hesitated, struggling to phrase his question politely.
"It's my privilege and custom on Home, so it's the same crossing NA territory. Our law supersedes theirs where Home citizens are involved. It's not really a firearm either, it's a laser. Here, take a look."
He took it gingerly and had been in zero G long enough that he wiggled it back and forth to gauge its mass.
"Wow. It's really light."
"Yup, but it's a half gram lighter when you shoot out the power pack."
He thought about that a minute and offered it back by the stubby barrel. "I'd hate to have an accident, better take it back."
"Oh, you can't fire it. Give it a try."
He looked dubiously at her and asked Cheesy, "What's behind the bulkhead there?" pointing at the surface behind the grill.
"All the vastness of space, unless the damn moon is in the way again."
Satisfied, he pointed it at the wall and squeezed the trigger. A tinny little voice said, "You are not an authorized user. If you persist this device will self-destruct."
"It has a DNA reader in the handle, among other safeguards," April explained, licking the corner of her mouth. "Pistol, accept the current holder for target power only, activate visible designator from trigger pressure and end authorization in one hour. Cheesy, what you got for him to shoot?"
Cheesy took another ball of meat without comment and pitched it overhand at the stainless covered bulkhead behind his equipment. It hit with an audible ‘plop' and clung to the surface with a domed red face to them.
"Touch the trigger very, very, lightly and it will give you an aiming dot and then blast that meat," she instructed with a chuckle, enjoying the impromptu arcade.
He touched the trigger and then steered the little red dot on to the target and squeezed gently. It was obvious he had some experience shooting from the smooth control. The center of the sirloin turned brown and sizzled rather quickly, a tendril of steam drifting away. He was pleased with himself and made to pass the pistol back toward her, but his buddy reached and took it.
"Now, it won't accept me firing it either will it?" he asked.
"No. It'll read and reject your DNA."
"So, what if I keep trying and don't understand English, what? - Boom?"
"Try it and ask," she suggested.
He pointed it at the safe wall carefully she noticed approvingly and squeezed the trigger. The same warning was repeated, but then he told it. "Je ne comprends pas. Je ne parle pas anglais." The same little tinny voice repeated the warning in perfect Parisian French. That seemed to impress him more than the firepower and he passed it back with a grin.
Meanwhile, Cheesy had scrapped the ball off the wall and popped it in a grill. When the two Frenchmen ordered, she was relieved to see he made theirs from fresh, but he soon made the targeted burger up for himself and joined them.
"So, if you had a load of 500 Kilo' of cocaine, the USNA Customs would have to just let you slide right through and you'd declare it to them? Right?" he inquired, skeptically.
"Yes. I'd never accept a load of coke. I don't need a law to make me not deal crappy street drugs, but if I did there's not a thing they could do about it," she told them dead pan. "A serious breach of our treaty could put us back at war. I don't think they want that - yet."
"I'm glad you're friends with France." was all the near one, John could say and he received his burger from Cheesy and turned his attention to it. He seemed put off with her blunt willingness to use force.
The serving baskets Cheesy used were covered with a loose bright red checked cloth that was slit but pulled closed by an elastic band along the inside edge. That kept things from floating away. April had been reaching in with two fingers and snatching garlic fries out, but when she reached in with both hands and pulled a second burger out the Frenchmen were astonished.
"Where does it go?" the newbie protested.
"Hey, I haven't eaten in hours," April said in her defense. She leaned across and dabbed a little spot of mustard with her finger tip on the sullen one's neck and he stiffened, not sure what she was going to do and still unhappy with her, but too proud to flinch away.
She leaned closer still, legs almost straight from the toe bars to reach him, but slowly so as not to scare him and licked it off with a single slow lap of her tongue that trailed off behind his ear. He couldn't help an involuntary deep breath and a visible shudder. "I'm glad you're friends with Home too." she breathed in a warm stage whisper on his ear, "but you can be glad I'm not really ravenous," she said sweetly and play nipped the edge of his ear.
His friend hooted and drummed the counter a staccato roll with his hands flat. Cheesy had an old fashioned ships bell behind the counter, he rang when he got a tip and he gave that three good strikes, laughing. A year ago she'd have never have had the nerve to do such a thing. But traveling and dealing with port officials and businessmen, had given her new self confidence.
"My God, Paul," he said to his friend, flustered, face red, leaning away from April. "tell my family I was brave to the end."
"Oh, I'll describe your sad fate in careful detail to your mother," he promised too easily.
That seemed to restore the damaged civility to their dinner and they bantered about lighter things until she had to go. She beamed her payment off her pad to Cheesy, seventy-eight dollars NA, plus a ten buck tip. Cheesy came over and took her empty basket, but her surprised her by leaning across the counter and taking her head in both big hands and solemnly kissing her well to each side high on her cheeks. "You won't be back until the new year. You have a very good, safe new year and be careful out there," he commanded seriously. April had seen Middle Eastern men do that to each other, but she was touched he'd do such a comradely thing with her. She just hugged him around the shoulders which felt much more natural to her and assured him, "I'm always careful – don't you worry," and gathered her feet under her ready to jump for the door, but paused. "What ship are you from, so I'll know if I meet you out there?" she asked at the last moment of the Frenchmen. She was impressed they hadn't made fun of Cheesy's concern for her, after all the other banter.
"We're from L' Arch de Ciel. The Arc of Heaven," he translated, "a fine ship of the Republic out of Tahiti. I am John and my friend is Paul. And you, what ship are you traveling on mademoiselle?"
"The Happy Lewis, out of Home as you've figured out. I'm April. It was nice meeting you John, Paul," she nodded at each and jumped for the door.
"The Happy Lewis?" the newbie John asked, suddenly interested. "Un navire de guerre," he acknowledged with respect in his voice - a warship. "If I had but known, we could have asked her about the ship and the crew before she left. I hear it's a tiny vessel for all its deadly reputation, so certainly she would know everyone aboard from even a short passage."
"Oh, she knows them all," Cheesy informed them, from across the counter, all amused. "She's April Lewis, Master of the Happy Lewis," he said, emphasizing the last name for them.
Both of them turned to look at her again, surprise written on their faces, but she was gone.
Chapter 8
Out the door and down the corridor, if April zipped in like a bird, she flew out much slower, like a freight Zeppelin overloaded with cheeseburgers. Going to the docks, she just went with the flow. If you weren't passing them most people didn't look up to make eye contact. New Las Vegas was the big city, compared to Home's small town atmosphere. A few folks would always look her over from afar. After all NLV was a magnet for all sorts of strange people, the people watching was prime and she probably qualified as one of the more exotic. But it was still USNA territory too and people might look, but were almost as reluctant to actually meet strangers as people Earthside. The NA system of Homeland Security and neighborhood snoops was still very much in place and had gained a foothold on NLV with its transient population, it had never acquired on the backwater Home was before independence.
Upon waging and winning a week long war and an unconditional surrender a year ago, Home had wisely made no attempt to change the internal workings of the USNA, given the difference in size. Any changes would have required more people to enforce and monitor than their entire population. They had only imposed some few specific conditions, about how NA treated Home. Even those few demands meant that when she meet USNA military personnel in the corridors here, she often received a venomous glare of hatred. The foremost condition was that NA not lift any more armed ships past the atmosphere. The military in particular resented being forced to hire out satellite launches, or freight lifted, to foreign vessels.
In just a year the USNA was already chaffing under the restrictions and people were publicly calling the surrender a mistake. Many were calling for the resignation of those who had surrendered. Nobody seemed to remember they had been forced to swear the postmaster general in as President, due to the decapitation of their government and military. The fact they still did not have a permanent bridge rebuilt, anywhere along the Mississippi, or the vast majority of their geostationary satellites replaced, seemed to be a lesson lost on them.
They had no choice, given they were still rebuilding the capacity to construct even unarmed space craft after Home's bombardment. They had suffered the loss of too many small shops making critical components, like shuttle tires. The selective destruction had been as easy as reading brag articles in the professional journals and then making a location confirming phone call, before reducing their specialized shop to rubble. Whatever small armed assets they still had in orbit or the Moon, they were probably hoarding, as they couldn't re-supply them right now. The situation made them feel like a third world power, even though they were still the dominating power on the Earth's surface. Home didn't care about that.
Too many civilians seemed unable to accept the reality that they lost the war, even though the country was still having trouble distributing power and goods. They still had no idea what the nature of the weapon used against them was, or how to counter it. It was a strange national state of denial. The majority of the military for all their hatred, was not so eager to actually fight again.
Well before the war with Home, the USNA government had stopped public release of causality figures and only officers were transported home for embarrassing funerals. But too many in the service were comparing notes, on how many friends and former unit mates they couldn't find any more. Indeed entire bases and carrier groups had disappeared off the lists. There were a lot of them gone.
The civilian population on the other hand, seems to blame the politicians, not Home, for empty store shelves or brown outs on the power grid. The military they dismissed as cowardly and not really trying at all and secrecy kept them from defending their actions.
April wore the recently introduced emblem of Home as a pin. Doris Chalmers had won the design competition for the symbol and flag. It was three overlapped ellipses increasing in size right to left along the top edge of a larger canted ellipse. An abstract form that suggested orbits and motion. The shape was represented in gold on the upper left two thirds of a deep blue square flag like Switzerland's.
April knew the emblem might irritate some, but anyone of any intelligence would know where she was from anyway. Foreign visitors to North America were issued a laminated ID card, for anytime they went out in public. Home had not argued an exemption for that requirement under the terms of surrender. Instead they had accepted it as shameful for NA, not them. Like wearing a Jew's star in the Nazi Reich. Besides if they didn't use it, they would probably have to issue some sort of ID themselves, for use off Home. The cards were color coded to be visible from a distance, Blue for UK, Red for China, Brown for Europe and so on.
Some bureaucrat decided Home would be Black, probably thinking it had a negative connotation. But actually it lent a sinister air to them, that gave them a strange sort of status, so they were sometimes referred to as black cards on the news. Besides it went extremely well with April's customary outfits. Home had no professional military, just a volunteer militia and they lacked a uniform but black was becoming the custom for militia members to wear as a sort of ad hoc uniform and an inside joke of sorts.
When she got to the end of the public corridor there was a duty free shop, before the security area check through from public cubic to spacer country. She didn't have any duty to save but it was still a convenient place to pop in and get a gift. She had found out Jon Davis enjoyed an occasional bottle of Champagne. She had tried buying him an expensive French vintage the first time, but he was no wine snob and actually preferred the less expensive Australian brands. She bounced in and perched at the counter.
"Hi, I need a case of Veuve Clicquot Reserve at dock nine. Send it to the Happy Lewis if you would please, within the next half hour or so and be sure it's still in a high G boost pack." she said, with her pad out to pay.
The clerk looked down right panicky. "We can't sell to anyone under twenty-four. In fact we could be fined for you just being in the store. If you'd just leave quietly it would be so much easier. Otherwise I'll have to call security, so it's on record we didn't encourage you to come in."
"Ah. You're new. I get this all the time. I'm from Home," she said pointing to the black ID card. "Call your manager and he'll tell you it's OK. I've bought from him before. I have the right under treaty terms. I'm an adult in my own country."
He looked dubious, but called on the com in the counter. April could not hear the other end of the conversation, but this end consisted of several objections starting with "But," that were all cut off from the other end and one final capitulating, "OK."
Still looking a little worried, as if it would all turn out to be a nasty joke on him, he took the payment off April's pad and promised the case at dock before they separated. April went back out in the public corridor. Her new friends the Frenchmen were just passing through security to dockage. She was glad they didn't stop in the shop, as they would have probably razzed her about calling an Australian product ‘Champagne' at all, instead of sparkling wine.
The security barriers were next to the duty free shop, with an in and out portal and a shared scanning and inspection station. The corridor widened out here, with the full space that was occupied by a storefronts on each side normally, now open on each side to a plaza like volume, with seating and machines for scanning freight and luggage, or even opening them for a hand inspection. They still kept everything oriented to one deck, in the public zero G area though, because inexperienced people got disoriented easy, if everything poked out in seemingly random directions and signs were upside down or at odd angles.
April was about jump to the exiting queue, to let them scan her out, when she got a silent vibrator com call signal from Click. She slipped out of the way of traffic, around the shop corner to the side and took the call on her spex.
"April I'm talking to a fellow stopped at the security barrier, who claims you know him. He says his name is Don Adams and he'd like to take passage with us to Home, but he can't get to the ship from public cubic without a boarding document."
April's mind flashed back on a scrawl, written with a vacuum marker on the hatch of the Happy Lewis. It was still there, sun faded and scratched away somewhat, but nobody would wipe it off. The maintenance crew knew to leave it alone. Don had manually released them from the dock at ISSII a year back, or they'd have been arrested by the Chinese. He'd scrawled that message, afraid to say his name aloud on com, before he scrambled off to hide until the battle sorted itself out. He'd been very brave for a ship full of strangers.
"I'm just outside security myself Click. Don Adams is a good friend. Ask him where he is exactly and what he's wearing and I'll fetch him along"
"He says he's in one of the public com booths, opposite the duty free shop and he's wearing a gray work suit and carrying a blue bag. He'll clear the privacy screen so you can see him."
About ten meters away there was a collection of privacy booths and the glass front of one suddenly went from an advertising video to full transparency. The middle age fellow inside looked both worried and angry. He was in a gray collarless jump suit with a logo patch on the shoulder and padded areas on the elbows and knees, that meant it was able to double as a suit liner also. He had a buzz cut, showing out from under a flannel helmet cap - your typical working vacuum rat, with no spex, no jewelry and no makeup or tattoos.
April was about to jump over to him, but from the station side two young fellows appeared, moving fast in the zero G, headed straight for the com booth. Such quick action and knowing exactly where to zero in could only mean they had been monitoring his call. They were not in uniform, but had Security written all over them, more by the Lords of Creation attitude they radiated, than the bodybuilder profile.
Not only for caution, but because she wanted to see exactly what they would do, April didn't go straight across, but jumped for the seats that were a sort of waiting area closer to the booth, but still a public area. She darkened her spex to hide her eyes and kept her left side opposite the booth, to hide her pistol with her body. She kept her face looking straight ahead at the chairs.
One of them looked over his shoulder and surveyed the volume. He dismissed the few folks visible as no hazard, including the young girl headed to the seats and turned back to the booth.
Inside Don slipped a tiny screwdriver out of his breast pocket and did something to the handle on the sliding door. Whatever he did was effective. Although the one young man strained to open the booth, one hand on the door latch and the other hand on the corner of the booth for leverage, nothing budged. The guy had enough size and a beefy look, that it was surprising he didn't bust the handle right off.
The other man pulled out some sort of ID and put it against the glass for Don to see. His other hand was holding a set of cable tie style restraint cuffs. He was somewhat skilled in zero G, although visibly an Earthie and had hooked his toe in the bar that ran along the deck in front of the com booth. April liked what she saw less and less. She softly asked Click through her spex, to request station security to come to where they were quickly.
She would have waited for them to show up, but the one trying to open the door gave that up for a lost cause, pulled a large automatic style hand gun out of his waist band and rapped hard on the glass a couple times with the butt end of it. The few people in the seats started turning and looking at the pounding sound, to see what was going on. He hadn't pointed the gun yet, but the threat was still clear enough just by displaying it. He was starting to irritate April.
One smart older man at the seats, took his bag and calmly exited the area up corridor, when he saw the gun. April jumped off the back of the seat. Both thugs were still turned back to her and unaware. She rolled over once, drawing her pistol in midair and landed on the back of the one with the ID and cuffs. She clamped her legs around his waist from behind, ripped the spex off his face with her left hand and grabbed a handful of hair which was surprisingly long up on top. He bent forward from the impact, but he had the one hand on the glass already showing his ID and a good anchor on the toe strap, so he recovered and straightened back up.
April shoved the muzzle of her pistol under the fellow’s ear and told him just one word, "Freeze." Feeling something cold and metallic jammed hard in his neck and a hand restraining his head movement, he didn't argue at all. It was surprising how much anger could be conveyed by one simple word like 'freeze'. He clearly heard, "Or I'll be very happy to blow your silly head off," echo under the single word.
The other agent was so shaken by her maneuver, he extended the pistol in his hand toward her face, looking wide eyed over his buddy's shoulder. Unfortunately it was still backwards in his hand and he was pointing the magazine end of the grip at her. She just looked at him with an exasperated expression, while he did a double take at his own weapon. She was almost completely shielded behind his partner anyway. She felt her mount squat just a fraction, not trying to get away from her, but scared of his own partner swinging the gun around on him in a careless panic - even if it was backwards.
The booth door popped open and a big hand grabbed the wrist like a vise and then the other big paw gently removed the reversed pistol from his grasp with great restraint. It would have been only too easy to just pull the trigger, while the idiot held it pointed at himself. In fact, those huge paws looked like he could snap the hand off at the wrist, if the fellow wanted to argue. A metallic ‘snick' announced he had engaged the safety and it was stowed in his suit front with the grips hanging out, still handy.
"Take this guy's weapon too," April instructed, keeping her eyes on the other fellow. Don quickly and efficiently patted the fellow down and removed a similar pistol from a shoulder rig and then another much smaller pistol from one ankle and a slim double edged dagger from the other leg. All that and a com pad from each, made for bulging pockets on his jump suit.
"His buddy probably has a hold out too," he suggested. "Shoot the sucker if he gets too twitchy when I search him," he instructed. The man glared hatred at them, but kept his hands away from his body and submitted to the search, but his hands were fists clutched in fury.
Don came up with another knife. This one a wicked folder on a composite lanyard. Don reached in a pocket and got a pair of miniature flush cutters with diamond jaws and snipped the line. From another pocket he pulled out a big wad of paper money folded in half under an elastic band. The top bill was a five hundred dollar USNA bill. He just shoved it back in the man's pocket and a flash of surprise went across the man's face. Another pocket yielded a small leather ID case, that Don held onto but didn't open up yet. The man had no second gun, but when Don pulled a slim tube with a screw cap out of the man's pocket he spoke up.
"Don't open that, or you'll endanger us all. It's terribly hazardous."
Don looked a question at him, but April thought she understood.
"It's a roll of Bucky Braid isn't it?" she asked, anger coloring her voice.
The fellow looked slightly shame faced and just nodded a short yes.
"Damn you filthy shits," she said heartfelt. "You should get it tangled in your jock." It was a near invisible braided bucky tube line, fine as a spider web strand, a spy weapon, which could cut a man in two straight through his bones. A filthy, horrible weapon, usually used as a booby trap. She jammed the discharge orifice of the laser harder in the man's neck in anger, but kept trigger discipline.
"Easy, easy, easy," he begged, voice little and not aggressive at all.
Don stuffed it in his pocket unopened and pulled himself back away from them, with his back against the booth and addressed her, "So, after all this trouble, I sure hope you're fixing to give me a ride, because I don't think I'm very popular around here."
"You saved our butts once. I'm happy to return the favor. Why are you trying to stop my friend from reaching my ship?" she asked the two, angry and visibly dangerous.
"Please, look at my ID," the one she was still straddled asked and made a small shaking motion with the small leather folder still in his hand.
"Take it Don. I'm comfortable right like I am. I can bag both of them for sure if they move on us, so go ahead and look at the ID."
Don took the ID, but stepped well back to look at it, to give April a clear field of fire and put himself out of easy reach of the two.
"Well! Your pony here is Navel Intelligence, assigned to Homeland Security." He turned the case around and showed her the photo ID and a heavily embossed badge clipped on the case. The shield was gold finish with blue enameling in it. He pocketed the ID instead of returning it. "Let's see what the other fellow is." He opened the case and screwed up his face with a strange expression. "He's on loan too, but what the heck is a Postal Inspector? I've never heard of them and I thought I knew every flavor of cop." If they expected the ID to intimidate either of them it didn't work. Don inquired, "What should we do with this trash? I hate to be rude and leave a mess in public cubic." Nobody thought he meant the items he had taken from them.
They were interrupted as two station security, in uniform and armed, one with a Taser and one with a tangle gun, came up and appraised the situation. The older of the two was fit looking, but had the steely gray hair that said he hadn't started any age extension therapies. He made a stopping gesture at the younger, when he started to call his dispatcher. He was probably going to ask for back up seeing weapons, but the gray haired one was in no rush.
"I'd like some explanation what is happening here." He asked in a calm voice and assumed no aggressive manner at all. April immediately felt he had what was described as command presence and radiated a aura of competence, neither did he seem afraid at the sight of the weapon on the agent's neck, or the grips hanging out of Don's coverall front, as if he saw that every day. "Who called for us and why is there a problem?" He seemed concerned, but he made no move to press close and fixed them with a gaze that was suitable for misbehaving school children. His fearless manner created more caution than an overly aggressive response would have. When he shrank away from the older one, April felt from his body language that the man she was perched on was just as intimidated by the station cop, as the muzzle under his ear.
"I had my crewman call," she spoke up, seizing the initiative. "I'm April Lewis, Master of the Happy Lewis at your dock. I'm meeting this passenger, to escort him aboard and these two appeared to be obstructing his passage to our vessel. We disarmed them, when the fellow here nearest you started waving a gun around. It is a treaty condition between the USNA and Home, that nobody may be impeded traveling to or from Home. I'm trying to restrain myself from shooting them out of hand, but what they are doing is an act of war from our view."
"Mr. Adams is a USNA citizen, not a citizen of Home," the Postal Inspector informed the station security. We have orders to arrest him for questioning, regarding terrorist sabotage and acting as a foreign agent. As you can see there appears to be some basis for our suspicions, since they are coming to his aid."
"You guys just don't get plain language do you?" April asked. "We made clear no one is to be denied access to Home. Doesn't matter what their citizenship is. That was because we figured you'd try to stop defectors. For that matter if a Chinese citizen wants to come to Home through your territory you have no right to stop them either. Passage rights are what precipitated our war in the first place. Don? What's your take anyway on this crap about sabotage and being a foreign agent? Where are they getting that?"
"I suppose the sabotage is when I let the Happy Lewis off the grapples last year, to keep the Chinese from grabbing you guys. Seems they are still pissed at me for doing that, but your amnesty program kept them from doing anything for awhile. China and the USNA - What can I say? - Birds of a feather and all that. I've been working dockage and fueling until a week ago, which is all high security clearance work and nobody complained about anything else I've done. But Eddie sent me a gift of money, in appreciation for helping you guys and when the Feds saw me spending it, they removed my security status to work in a restricted industry. They canceled my access, so I couldn't even go back to clear my locker out. They brought me my suit and work things," he said nodding at his bag."
"But I couldn't work anymore, so why would I stay on ISSII? I could live on Eddie's money, but I need something to do. Ya know? I can't sit around and watch vids and drink beer. I'd go nuts. I just abandoned my furniture and things and stuffed a few keepsakes in a bag and came. Trouble is, when I got here they wouldn't sell me a commercial shuttle ticket to Home, because security put me on the no board list. It's stupid. Why allow me to leave without arresting me, then strand me here? I've been stuck here two days trying to get a ride."
"Ten million Euro is hardly appreciation money!" the inspector objected. "Mr. Adams is an agent of Home, bought and paid for." Talk of that much money raised some eyebrows with station security. Most residents in orbit were at least annual millionaires, but they needed to spend that annually to live too. Ten million cash was still a pretty good chunk of change.
"You do anything for us since you helped us undock? Did you spy?" April asked Don.
"No. But that doesn't help with this sort," Don explained with a dismissive little flip of his hand at the two agents. "They assume you're as crooked as them. So I might as well have the game as the blame. Do you have room for another worker, with a bankroll to establish himself?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course! We owe you big time. More than ten million Euro, or any amount of money could ever repay. That's chump change for Eddie. He's building two more ships right now and they're gonna make the Happy Lewis or the Home Boy obsolete as war craft. You have a job flying them or working on them. Eddie owns them but Lewis Couriers will lease and license operating them. Where ever you can fit in - come on."
"We'll be going then," she informed the station security men. Pushing a little, to see if they'd try to act for the government muscle. "Can I assume you'll baby-sit these two and allow us to leave without shooting the place up to get away? I hate to make a mess and scare people. You have a real chance of starting our war back up if we have to shoot our way free," she threatened casually.
"These two have taken our weapons," the Navel agent said, still not giving up entirely. "He may be free to go to Home, but he's still a USNA citizen who can't carry a weapon through security into flight operations."
That specific complaint produced a brief flash of unhappy concern from the security men. April read that reaction to mean they had already decided to let them go and didn't welcome another roadblock to wrapping this problem up.
"Do you want to trust station security not to give them their guns back, to them until we undock?" April asked Don, skeptically.
"No. They have too much leverage on the local guys. I don't even want to put them in that awkward of a position, with Federal agents." The look on the station security man's face said he was relieved, rather than offended. "I could give all the hardware to you to carry, but I kinda like having it right now," he admitted. "I have a different idea. What do I have to do, to become a citizen of Home?" Don asked.
"Just live there. Simple residency. Even if you sleep in hot slots. If you have ten million Euro, you can buy some small cubic outright. But if you have any doubt, you're welcome in my home and I know a dozen that would say the same. Just say you want to live there. No oath or anything formal required."
"You recording back to your office?" Don asked the security men.
"Yes Sir." The senior one said with surprising respect and touched the small square riding on his shoulder with a fish eye lens on the face. A public eye. "Video streaming back also." The calm intelligent look, said he seemed to understand what was coming.
"OK then this is for the record. I, Don Adams, born a native of Lorain Ohio and recently living in habitat ISSII under USNA control, federal ID number 567-32-4011, renounce my citizenship in the United States of North America and will now reside in the nation of Home and accept their citizenship." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his citizens ID card and sailed it across to the security people. "I won't need that anymore," he assured them. Nobody mentioned the mandatory buy-out and exit tax. That was probably smart.
April gathered her feet under her in the small of the back of the agent. "One last thing," she said quietly now into his ear. "Travel to Home is unrestricted, but if I see either of you two Earthies in Home, I'll personally shoot you dead on sight, without a word of warning. I don't like your kind of hired muscle. I'll post intent on the community board when I go home, same as if you were banished, so if you show your face - it's on your own head." The emotionless way she said it was more chilling than if she'd barked it out in anger.
"Thanks for the quick response from station security," she directed to the other two and jumped back for the chairs and turned there watching the group and covering Don, who made the longer jump straight for the security island in the middle of the volume.
The few people seated in the waiting area were looking back and forth, between them and the group back at the com booth. Some concerned, some fascinated at the public display. Then she noticed the fellow sitting with his video camera down on the seat beside him, with his hand resting on it. He had panned the thing under his hand to follow her. He must be running it through his spex, trying not to be too obvious. He didn't look worried at all over the disturbance, he looked delighted. April had learned when a camera had a big lens on front like that, it was probably a professional model. He must be some sort of reporter. Oh well, she thought, with a little luck he got the whole thing from the start and it wouldn't reflect badly on them at all. After all, she could have shot them. Probably should have.
She looked square at the camera and gave him the biggest grin she could and a wicked wink. He looked startled to be caught out, but didn't look over at the com booth. That was an even better sign, if he was trying not to be noticed by security. Perhaps they would confiscate his gear if they knew he was recording. Good. Maybe he would even make a fair presentation of their side, instead of favoring the cops.
She satisfied herself they still weren't being followed and jumped to join Don, but she kept her gun in her hand just in case. The scanning technician was used to folks from Home, but looked a bit flustered to see her weapon out in her hand. She offered her ID card to him and he scanned her out of the public cubic.
"What about your friend with no ID?" the techie asked. "He shows at least five prohibited items on scan and a half dozen other probable violations. I have to cover my butt you understand. Even though station security is standing over there letting you go." He was wearing the same sort of Public Eye camera on his shoulder security had.
"This is Don Adams. He just became a Home citizen standing over there a couple minutes ago. They have it on vid. We'll put in a request next visit for an alien card for him. If they give you any hassle tell them I threatened the station and you had no choice for the sake of public safety. In fact I'll make it easy. Click?" she said into her spex, "you following this?" She kept checking over her shoulder, as did Don.
"Sure April. Thanks for keeping the feed open. I haven't said anything because you didn't need your elbow juggled. But it's been entertaining."
"Well let's make sure they have reason to not change their mind. Power the Happy up and activate all weapons systems. Sweep the neighborhood with targeting Lidar and tell local control you may undock unannounced and engage any vessels impeding your exit. If you lose the feed from my spex and we don't make it back to the ship safe, assume we're lost and standoff and put a missile up their butt here and engage any USNA boats you see in range. Got that?"
Aye, Aye Ma'am. Just as soon as I sign the bill for your Champagne. I have the call on the speaker and I think the delivery guy is suddenly anxious to get off our dock," he laughed.
"There you go," She told the scanner tech with a smile. "I'm sure that is sufficient duress, don't you think?"
"Whatever you say," the fellow agreed, satisfied, but surprisingly unruffled to hear talk of someone putting a missile into the station. "Be safe out there," he added the customary goodbye. He seemed to mean it, which struck her slightly strange given the adversarial circumstances. Perhaps he didn't care for these Security thugs anymore than she did.
They cleared the outgoing portal with a glance back at the far com booths. The four they had left were still bunched there, watching them go. They seemed to be engaged in some animated conversation and the elder cop had his hand, not on his Taser, but on his belt right behind it. She hoped the NA thugs wouldn't try anything with him, because he didn't deserve the hassle. But if they did, her money was on him to take the other two, even without his younger partner as a backup. She decided she should mention him to Jon Davis, as a possible recruit for Home. He had the sort of calm professionalism Jon searched for.
The corridor changed quite a bit when they passed out of public cubic. Things were no longer oriented to one side, as if it were a deck for Earthie sensibilities and the decorative designs and carpet, were replaced by sound absorbing panels of a tweedy material, held down with visible fasteners. The traffic guiding strips opposite each other were a grit impregnated and textured plastic runner, with a hand rail on each side. On both sides bare pipes and conduits ran parallel to their path on industrial clamps and stand-offs, starkly labeled with what fluid or current they carried in English. A few wrapped in puffy insulation covered by a foil jacket held on by cable ties. The Japanese symbols April was so used to seeing were absent. The lighting was adequate, but housed in safety fixtures and not the recessed indirect sort in the public cubic of NLV. Most of them had the small box of a backup power supply beside the fixture.
They drifted along toward the docks but April went backwards, keeping an eye on their rear and her pistol in her hand. That was not unnoticed by some of the folks they were passing, but she still felt worried the agents might follow or have someone else to call ahead. A possibility she mentioned to Dan so he was keeping a keen watch ahead too, so they didn't get cut off.
They passed several dock stations loading freight and got greeted by a number of acquaintances both station personnel and crew members. When they were almost to their dockage they looked up and there were the French crewmen John and Paul chatting with an older man, all gripping a single grab bar oriented the same way and watching their crew and some ship chandlers load them up with provisions. Her new friend John spoke with some alarm.
"April! You are looking over your shoulder with a drawn weapon. Is there trouble following you my friend?" The older fellow with them looked taken aback by his familiarity.
"I don't think so John but I couldn't be sure. This is my friend Don Adams off ISSII. USNA security was keeping him from coming to Home. We owe him a huge debt of honor and they tried to arrest him and drew weapons to threaten him. Station security seemed to be holding them when we left, but I can't count on that, or discount there may be more of them."
"Your friend Don seems equipped to offer some objection himself," Paul noted nodding at the two heavy pistol grips sticking out of his work coverall at the waist.
"Oh, those aren't his. Well, I guess they are now," she corrected. She reluctantly slid her laser in the holster, seeing no pursuit down the long open corridor. "We sort of disarmed them, to lessen the chances of trouble following," she admitted. "Don had to renounce his citizenship, to get them to let him through security armed though."
"Would you at least offer me an introduction to your friend, gentlemen?" the older fellow reminded the younger two. The tone was mildly reproving. He had three rows of piping on his collar and cuffs of his functional ship's suit, compared to John's double stripe and the bare suit of the newbie Paul.
"Excuse me Sir. Miss Lewis, may I present my superior Msr. Gial DeCuir commanding L'Arch de Ciel? This is April Lewis, Master of the Happy Lewis out of Home." Gial surprised her by taking her hand instead of simply touching as spacers do and lightly touching his lips to her knuckles. That was only the second time the custom had been extended to her. It seemed to require a certain amount of maturity, to bring it off without looking silly and he pulled it off.
"Your ship's reputation precedes you," Gial assured her. She noticed that was a rather neutral sort of assessment, neither good nor bad, but simply acknowledging their notoriety.
"I enjoyed a luncheon with your crewmen. They were pleasant and proud of their service with you. Please excuse me for not lingering. My crew is at an alert and charged with acting if I don't make it back to my ship. Be safe out there," she offered seriously, with eye contact and he nodded goodbye.
When she disappeared down the dock he regarded his junior officers. "Let's take a look at this vessel as it leaves and see how it compares to the dated images our intelligence service collected. Perhaps we will see something new. Especially if she leaves dock in a mode ready for combat. We are only two ports down from them and our nose is towards them, so we can view them as well as recording with the camera. If we can send some fresh information home it can only enhance our reputation." He quickly led the way in.
Chapter 9
April and Don made their own hatch without anyone else stopping them. Her spex were still connected to Click, so she was not worried about him misinterpreting her stop. Click had been out on the dock and to Customs, but as was their custom a crewman had remained behind inside the ship, undisclosed to the station personnel. They never left an empty ship at dock, since the war.
As they entered the forward hatch they passed through a privacy curtain and Don was surprised to see a compact fellow of dead serious demeanor, in a pressure suit clipped against the bulkhead opposite the lock. He cradled an odd shotgun of some sort, pointed slightly aside of the hatch. It had the biggest bore he had ever seen. Perhaps it was a grenade launcher instead, but who would use that to guard a hatch? There was a rotary magazine hanging under it and the man had ballistic panels incorporated on the front of his soft suit. His faceplate was up, but he had his helmet secured on the suit. There was an unfamiliar sort of big dagger on the fellows belt too, that seemed archaic beside the gun. Don had never seen an Arkansas toothpick. For the first time since he left ISSII Don felt sure the USNA wasn't going to snatch him away to some cell. Not past this fellow they weren't.
"Click, contact NLV local and ask for a clearance to their control limit and then indicate we will be leaving on an unannounced vector, as we fear possible interception. Advise local traffic we will clear their neighborhood as soon as possible, so if there is any problem it will be away from here, but we will declare an emergency rather than accept a hold from anyone. I'm going forward Don. You take a seat here with Edwards and we'll keep you informed and feed you sound and visuals at your station." In the background Click was already talking to local control. "I'm switching weapons to my side of the board." April told him. "You take her out and pick a descending vector for a polar orbit, that anything with less delta V will have a hard time following."
"Do you really think anyone will try to stop us?" Click inquired.
"I don't know for sure, but they didn't want Don here to make a connection to Home and I don't want to be surprised in close to the station. This is the first time in a year we have failed to give them a flight profile, so they may be just a bit nervous. Last time we had to do that at ISSII we shot the station up before leaving and they may be thinking about that. The extra fuel and time is well worth expending, if they expect us to shape back to Home straight away and are already moving to have someone intercept."
Click got his clearance for a straight burn away from the station and acknowledged.
"Maneuvering in forty seconds," he announced to the back. "Secure for hard and variable thrust, until told otherwise."
Don looked around and found that while he was strapping himself in the acceleration couch, Edwards had stowed not only the shotgun, but his piece of luggage. He took the two bigger pistols and a few other heavy pieces out of his pockets and stuffed them in the small locker beside his station.
"Thanks Edwards. I'm Don Adams." he introduced himself. " I appreciate your taking the bag. Too bad I didn't have time to get into my p-suit. Do you have a first name you go by too?"
"Nope. Edwards suits me just fine. Hang on friend. Dope yourself up if you need to. When Click says it'll be a hard push, that usually means you can expect some bruises before we're done."
"Take her out on just thrusters," April instructed, "until we hit the half klick radius and then when our tail is pointed off the station, open her up and cut the thrusters when the drive is at full power. I need a double roll to look each way and then a look back over our shoulder at as much of the sky as is showing behind the station before the drive kicks in. Not our habit showing them what we got this close but I'm going to let everything hang out," she informed him.
"Aye, aye." was all he replied.
In the control cabin of the French ship, The Commander Gial and John took the flight seats and Paul floated behind with a hand on each seat back, so he could share the view out the forward ports, as well as the camera view on the computer screens. Gial brought a pic of the Happy Lewis on one screen, that was almost a year old. It had the bells of two conventional rockets on the rear and a fuzzy coat all over the hull of some dark radar absorbing material. In the pic there was a frail looking camera arm hanging out, with four small boxes clustered around the camera. He zoomed in on the ship two berths down from them. The vessel in between obscured some of their view, even with their camera extended as far as possible, but he set the camera to auto-track the Happy Lewis as it moved away from dock.
"April we have a camera hanging way out on an arm, from the second ship down. Do you want to burn it off before we pull out, so it can't gather any information on us?"
She considered it briefly. "No Click. Those are the French and they have been our nominal allies. They did recognize us early on when we declared independence. In a few weeks we'll have Eddie's two new ships in service and the data on the Happy Lewis or the Home Boy won't mean much because they will be obsolete for all practical purposes. Let them get an eyeful. In fact, give ‘em a show and when they hear about the Home Again and Eddie's Scooter it will make them worry how much better they must be than the Happy."
"Do you think we should turn on our radar?" John asked his superior.
"Miss Lewis announced to local she is concerned about hostility," Gial reminded him. "I'd say she would ignore a navigational radar, but do not activate anything that could be interpreted as a targeting radar, or the Lidar. I fear she may have her weapons set for auto release if they detect such emissions. I'd hate to be shot at anyway, but attracting fire to a USNA station while we are docked, might be more excitement than our service would appreciate." John acknowledged that, flipping the switches up for the lower frequency long range radar.
"Conventional radar coming up on the French vessel," Click warned, as the side thrusters came on to kick them away from the station.
"Send on local band the following, by voice. The Armed Merchant Happy Lewis, to the ship of the Republic Arch de Ciel. We'd have given you a souvenir photo if you'd just asked. We're friends after all, but don't attribute it."
As the Home vessel turned stern to the station and the small conventional engines kicked it away at a half G, Gial smiled at the message on the radio. After a few seconds the burn stopped and the side thrusters rolled it violently in a circle perpendicular to its course. As it started the tumble a shorter style arm much heavier than the camera arm in the old picture, deployed from both the top and bottom of the vessel. The fact that it could deploy, it while spinning the ship hard end over end showed how strong it was. That was obviously the improved laser weapons, as it looked much like other systems they were familiar with. At the same time the hump behind the control cabin split open, revealing a squat cylinder of machinery on pivoting mounts like a telescope.
"I believe we are the first to see what Home's mystery weapon looks like gentleman," Gial expressed with some surprise.
That was not the only surprise, as on the nose a complex flat assembly of thin struts and lines unfolded like a flower, opening into a huge flat disc, that was braced by a cone shaped group of gossamer lines to the center mast projecting beyond the nose. When it was open it was a full eight meters across, with no perceivable thickness. So insubstantial it was just a cloud of glints and reflections, that the stars shone right through.
Meanwhile on the side, the pebbled dark surface that had replaced the fuzzy material on the historic pic, split open on each side. A pylon unfolded on each side, with a half dozen missiles racked. Three smaller missiles no bigger than a coffee flask and three fatter cylinders that had a bulging white head on the front, that spoke to a complex sensor suite for guidance built in the weapon itself. Gial remember the terribly tiny missile like a child's toy rocket that had been shown in a BBC video a year ago, blowing a USNA space plane clean in two. So if he did not underestimate the smaller weapon, he positively shuddered to think what the nature of the bigger one was.
"The thing on the nose must be a radar, but why is it flat instead of a dish?" Paul wondered aloud from behind them. "And why is it braced with so many fine lines?" The engines at the rear looked very different and there was an entire extra freight module, inserted behind the cabin shown in the older picture. That made the ship a good three meters longer by itself. As the Happy rolled, there were a couple flashes of static on their screens. In particular the radar display dissolved twice, in a flare of static that was not normal.
Inside the Happy Lewis, Don was completely disoriented in the rear, as Click rolled the ship in two axis at once and scanned the sky with their radar in a full circle out as far as lunar orbit. The restraints bit into him as he was twisted first one way, then a new direction before the old settled. He was forced to choke down his breakfast that was trying to come up his throat in a lump. Finally Click rolled the nose back to the station and looked behind it with radar as much as he could.
As the nose came back to the station the Frenchmen saw a faint violet glow of discharge flicker across the surface of the radar disk on the front of the Happy Lewis, as the trace of gas from her thrusters blew through the gossamer disk on the nose of the vessel. The radar display in the French ship gave a final bright flash and then the system breakers behind them all popped out with a flurry of snaps and the radio gave out an electronic raspberry of overload before it died too.
They only had time for a quick exclamation of surprise however, because then as the nose rolled past them, toward the South pole of the planet under them all, the thrusters stopped it's roll and a terrible white plume of plasma drew a line as far as they could see the opposite way. Paul behind them, was resetting the breakers as quickly as possible and the radar flickered and rebooted, painting a new screen within seconds. The icon on the radar screen was already kilometers away and as they watched, numbers in a bracket beside the blip showed the acceleration eased off, from nine and a half G to a more moderate eight. "They cut off the conventional thrusters and eased off the main a bit once they saw no pursuit," John said. "I've never seen a ship move like that. It looked more like a missile launch than a manned vessel."
"Now I know what the guy wires are for at least," Paul acknowledged. "That radar disc must be stronger than it looks, if that sort of acceleration doesn't just peel it right off the nose of the ship, even with supporting guys, but why did they hit us with ECM, when we had already seen and recorded so much about them?"
"They didn't use any Electronic Counter Measures," Gial explained. "Their radar wasn't even on a multiple of our frequency. It's just pumping out so many watts and we were so close, that the surge was from stray inductance, even though there was no close match for it to really couple with our system. If they had scanned and matched our frequency, we wouldn't have a radar anymore. It would be fried. That disc isn't a reflector. It's an array of many nano antennas, with a Veselago lens over each one. I've read they were possible, but I've never seen one and you should forget I've described it to you. The whole thing is highly classified by our people."
"It should send a beam as parallel as a laser, focused down to one wave length in diameter, for an unholy distance. And even steer multiple beams to multiple loci. Can you imagine what a few Gigawatt density of millimeter waves would do, focused on a spot a half centimeter across on our hull? Or how far out you could get a return off even a steathed hull, if you can paint it with that kind of power density? We'll compose a report with all our recordings and observations and send it along home. I expect they'll be very pleased."
"There's one thing I remember from lunch, you should be sure to include in our report sir," Paul said, looking very serious. "The lady told us that in a few weeks they will have two more armed merchants, of a new class in service that, 'Will make one of the older ones look like a rickshaw with a bent wheel', if I remember her words."
"Let us hope gentleman, that the Republic never asks us to engage the rickshaw we just saw leave. I believe it may offend some, but I plan on making that clear to our superiors that it would likely be futile, regardless of the vigor and valor with which one might pursue it."
"For what it is worth Sir, both the gentleman that addressed us on com and Miss Lewis herself at lunch, expressed that they consider the French friends. I'd say, let's mention it in our report that their active crews have that view and we should do anything we can to encourage it," John suggested.
"You also should write out a transcript of your lunch as well as you can remember it, together and we shall submit it with our report. A professional intelligence officer might glean something from it that you'd miss." Staring at the sudden blush, both the young men were stricken with and way their eyes slide away from him and locked on each other in desperation, he got a slow smile across his face. "But of course you might run the story past your Commander first, in case there are any irrelevant events, that we don't want to bother the professionals with. I dare say I'd enjoy the story for its own sake I think. I've been a young man on liberty before you know."
"Oh it's not anything bad at all," Paul assured him. "It's just if you weren't there and didn't know how events lead up to that point, one might not understand an odd incident where the Master of the Happy Lewis was licking mustard from behind John's ear and trying to jolly him out of a bad mood. But after all, as you say they are allies aren't they Sir?" he asked hopefully.
"As you say," he agreed leaning back in the seat to hear the story out. "I'm sure any indignities you suffered, are not unlike other Frenchmen have endured for the Republic."
* * *
Click had eased off to what he considered a moderate six G, even before they went around the curve of the Earth from the station. Now they coasted in a new polar orbit. "I changed our vector significantly before shutting down, once we were out of line of sight," he explained. "If anyone was trying to work up an intercept, they should have a real hard time, unless they have seamless tracking across Antarctica and I'm certain few do. Certainly not North America, after what we did to their assets last year. Maybe Argentina or New Zealand, but I don't think either of them would go out of their way to see North America's cows home. But I'd still like one of us to sit the weapons board for a few orbits, just in case."
Don didn't complain. He felt beat up and squashed, but he wanted this ride so bad he wasn't going to start complaining now and look like a wimp. He was quietly glad though the burn was over. Some of the small items he had thought unimportant to take out of his pockets, had bruised him from the acceleration. He started pulling tools and things out and stowing them in the mini-locker by his station. April floated back and joined him, with a look of concern on her face. "I know that was a pretty rough ride. Do you need anything from the medical kit?" She was trying to be kind, but it irritated him that she was moving about real easily, unbothered by the ordeal and worried about the Old Man. Still, she was right, he was hurting.
"Yeah I'd like a couple of whatever pain killer won't make me woozy. I left this silly little pistol off that guy's ankle in my breast pocket," he said, fishing for it awkwardly with his left hand, "and I thought it was gonna bore a hole through me under boost. I bet I'll have a bruise showing the serial numbers embossed in my hide. How the hell much juice did Click pour on anyway? I've pulled five and a half, before but it felt nothing like this."
"He was at nine and a half for just a little. That's actually a half G past rating and when we get back the maintenance guys will yell at us about it," she admitted. "The new ships are being designed to pull 16 G."
He restrained the urge to groan at that number. "Here, you want this stupid thing?" he offered, holding the tiny automatic out to her. "I'd be scared to shoot somebody with this. It might make them mad."
"No I'm with you. If I want to irritate them I've been doing that fine so far, just running my mouth."
"Uh, does that tiny thing take brass shells?" Edwards inquired tentatively. "I sort of collect antique guns, if you guys aren't interested."
"Take it. Otherwise we'll probably just pitch it," Don assured him, tossing it over. He put a few more hand tools in the small locker. The inside was lined with pockets and tie downs and he wanted his pockets empty if they boosted hard again. "Here, these seem to be identical," he observed, pulling the two heavier service pistols out. "Glock 9 mm. You got the drop on them. They're your prize I guess."
"Yeah but you reached out of the booth and took it right out of the guy's hand. He was still trying to shoot me, even if it was kind of pathetic. Let's split ‘em. Take your pick."
Dan looked at both sides of them. They both looked so new he couldn't tell any difference, so he just picked the one in his left hand and shoved it back in the locker. "How about these?" he asked of the badges when he pulled them out of his pocket. "Pitch ‘em? Or does somebody collect them too?" he joked.
"Actually I do." April admitted. "I have a Chinese p-suit rank badge, I wear on a holster for dress up and I'll do the same with these."
"Did you take it away from him the same way we got these?" Dan asked with a mischievous smile.
"Oh no. We killed that sucker and stuffed him out the lock," she explained so matter of fact it made him shudder. He passed the prize to her with no regrets. They were definitely not his sort of hobby.
"Why don't you get in your p-suit now that we have time? April suggested. "Everything seems quiet, but we're a cautious lot. Some of these cushions come off, if it's too big for the seat."
"I don't think I actually thanked you. It was terrifically brave to jump on that fellows back and cover them like that. If you hadn't done that, I think I'd be on another shuttle headed for a North American prison right now. Guys like me, arrested on political charges, pretty much just disappear."
"I swear to you, if they ever snatch you, I will offer them a deal they can't refuse to give you back. I can't do anything about how they treat their own people, but for one of us I would fight them to get you back. If they had snatched you before I got there, I'd have sat off NLV and punched holes in the important parts, until they got the idea I was really irritated."
"Do you think your fellow militia members would go along with that, on behalf of one old vacuum rat?"
She looked at him funny. "They'd expect the same to be done for them. But I don't have to ask anyone. There are no locks on our ship weapons. And any of the militia members that are trained and that means all the space faring members, have access to our weapons systems from their com or spex. If Click for example is sitting playing Black Jack on New Las Vegas and he finds out they nuked Home, he doesn't even have to get up from the table to make war on North America. He can send through his spex and unleash whatever he decides is needed. I'd hope he would do some careful confirmation of the responsibility, but realistically nobody has any serious grudge against Home except North America. The Chinese haven't made a peep since that one run in with their shuttle. But I'm afraid we're becoming a bit of a fixe idee for the North Americans as our French friends would say."
"That seems pretty scary to entrust individuals with that much power. What if someone is not stable - what's to stop them acting on a whim?
"Don, we all talked this out in detail. Think about all the weapons the Earth nations have to use. It still comes down to some individual that decides to use them. They may make a show of a committee deciding, but somebody still makes the motion and somebody pushes the button. Only difference is if a militia member uses our weapons we'll all know who did so. The system is not anonymous. Anybody who logs on and activates a system, we all know about it right away.
With the Earthies though, we'd never know who did the killing. Just like when the Americans sent a shuttle full of soldiers to invade Home. We know the orders had to come from high up, but we don't really know if it was the President, or who actually said, ‘Do it.' Their system has always covered up personal responsibility and spread the blame around. We will not evade personal responsibility. If we decide we have to fight again it will be right out in plain sight," she vowed.
"The people picked to live on Home are pretty well tested to be stable mentally. You don't get shipped up if you test positive for the common organic mental disorders. We don't let just anyone into the militia either, there are several people we've all agreed don't get in, even though they wanted in. There are still those who don't fit diagnostic standards of mental illness, but everybody knows they are a flaming jackass. Dave even let a worker go, because he wasn't militia material and he wouldn't risk him working on our ships."
"It scares me more, to think that down there this kind of power hidden in one person's hands who doesn't really have to answer for his actions. We've seen their President can pretty much order any military action he wants and nobody will question it. And I don't see anybody testing their Presidents for stability. We have thirty-eight militia members that have full access right now. I'm more concerned with making sure the North Americans know someone will survive an attack to hit them back out of that number, than I'm worried about making it safer for them. If they wanted to be safe, they shouldn't have started a war they couldn't win."
"Does your concern mean you don't want to be recruited into the militia? I should warn you most of the guys building new ships and maintaining the armed ones, are full militia members, so it would be pretty hard to hire you without entrusting you as a member," April revealed.
It was a new and shocking thought to imagine being entrusted with that sort of power - and responsibility. "I'll have to think about that. I don't want to accept unless I've thought it over and can be sure I have the will to actually use that sort of power. It wouldn't be fair to you guys if I took the responsibility and then find I didn't have the nerve to use it."
"See? We're all like that. Nobody is a bloodthirsty monster, who wants to rip into North America. We're just scared that the ability to hurt them, is all that keeps their slimier politicians from attacking us again. We've been watching their news carefully and there is a huge vocal element, that is really unhappy that the surviving officials surrendered. I don't know how long they thought they should let us pound them, before giving up. I thought they were pretty stubborn as it was. But these crazies worry us. We really don't want to be forced into resuming hostilities. We were able to avoid hurting a lot of innocent civilians before, but if they are crazy enough to fight again, we'll end up going down in history as the bad guys, no matter how much they ask for it."
"It's going to take me a bit to adjust to all this. When I left ISSII The thought was there, that I might not be coming back, but I still locked my apartment up and had the idea in my mind there was some small chance I'd be back. Now my bridges are burnt behind me. I need to call a friend there. Can you get me a com connection from this orbit?"
April looked in her spex and checked a couple things. "Sure, we will always be in line of sight from one or another geostationary com satellite. Go ahead and make your call. I'm going back up front," she said, to give him some privacy.
Don punched in Sheila's address back on ISSII. She was probably the only friend there, that he would really miss. He caught her at home, but she was dressed for work in the station infirmary and she was visibly surprised to see his face.
"Hi Don. I didn't expect to see you. There were a couple Homeland Security toughs around yesterday, asking everyone about you and I thought you'd be hanging by your ankles on a wall somewhere, talking to the cockroaches upside-down by now."
"They would have snatched me this morning on New Las Vegas, but one of my old pals from the Happy Lewis stuck a pistol in the one's ear from behind, an asked him what the heck they thought they were doing bothering me."
She covered her mouth with her hand to laugh. A gesture he had seen her do so many times. He felt so bad what he had to tell her next. "Sheila, I had to renounce my citizenship and I'm emigrating to Home. Not what I had in mind, but they left me little choice. Anyway I wanted you to know, I'll miss you and don't expect me back. My apartment is all locked up and I left too quick to dispose of anything, so I just wanted you to know you are welcome to take any of the furniture, or anything at all I left, for yourself. After the first of the year my rent isn't paid, they'll reset the lock and I don't know what will happen to the stuff. But for now it should still be the old password, if Security didn't mess with it. I'd say give me a call now and then, but if you do Security will probably give you grief for it. But if you ever visit Home, call me up and I'll take you to dinner," he offered.
"Oh Don. I'll miss you too," she agreed. "I will go by and see what I can salvage. That was sweet of you to think of me. Is there anything there you want sent to you? Did you forget anything with sentimental value?"
"No. You know, everything I really care about fit in my blue duffel bag. I was kind of surprised at that myself. I have music, a few photos and a couple paper books I've had since I was a kid and that's about all. Thanks for all the times you were the only sane person I had to talk to."
"Yeah, I don't know who I can hang with now. When you can read the psych profiles on most of these characters, it's a bit of a turn off. I suppose now I will have to buy a cat or a ferret to have someone to talk to," she joked.
"Let me know if you ever need anything," he said, suddenly very earnest. Sheila knew about his money from Ernie and never allowed him to spend more on her than an occasional dinner, or bottle of wine. The one time he had tried to give her a more expensive gift, she had refused it, saying it implied a seriousness to their relationship that neither were trying to make happen. Now, he regretted she had no keepsake from him.
"Dan you let me know if you need my help too." That surprised him, but made him feel good. They had never gotten to the point of considering marriage, but they had filled a void for a time, in each other's lives.
"Thanks Sheila. Don't be shy to go salvage whatever you can and ask your friends if they want to take stuff. Bye now."
"Bye," she said and looked sad when she closed the connection.
He hoped the call would not make Security hassle her.
Sheila immediately called her Homeland Security control and played the recording of the call into his mailbox. "I think I am done here, if you want to reassign me soonest. There is almost no chance Don Adams will be coming back to ISSII now and nobody who associated with him shows any serious disloyalty, or illegal actions worth monitoring. As I have said before, there was never any indication his aid to the Happy Lewis was other than a spur of the moment decision. I have quite a bit of leave saved up, so I'm requesting three weeks as soon as you officially terminate this assignment. Until I hear back from you, I will be prepare a final assessment and contingency document, ready to file. I'm also requesting transportation allowance for Earthside. I'd like to be dropped to Hawaii for my leave and then had a travel allowance to visit my family in Massachusetts, before resuming an active posting. Thanks in advance." She double checked it was being properly encrypted and signed it - Helen.
Chapter 10
"Honey come look at this!" Ruby called to her husband Easy. He came out of the kitchen alcove, wiping his hands on a towel. He was bare-chested and had on loose canvas pants. When she cooked and worked at the cafeteria all day, she didn't care to go back there for dinner, or cook again at home. The construction workers cafeteria at the other end of the station saw some of their business, but it was far enough away twice a week was usually often enough. Easy liked cooking fortunately. She patted the seat beside her, so it must be something important or she wouldn't interrupt him cooking. The screen was paused, but she kept a two day backup running, so when he was seated she glanced at the clock again and said - "Com, back up two hundred seconds and resume from then."
"NASDAQ trading finished the peak period up slightly, after heavier gains during the European business day. Traders are forecasting continued gains, through the long Pacific Rim trading day."
"In Space News - Award winning National Geographic cinematographer, Gerald Williams, caught this striking confrontation, awaiting Lunar transfer at New Las Vegas."
The wide angle view showed the public seating area and the row of com booths behind it. All quiet and normal, then one of the booths lost its privacy and two plain clothes Earthies, with a decidedly military look, zeroed in on it aggressively. The fellow inside pulled one of those little screwdrivers out with the pocket clip, like techies carry to adjust controls and instruments and did something to the door control, locking the men out.
"Do you know something Sugar? I have no idea how he did that," Easy observed. "I can't even picture what the door closure on a public booth looks like. That would be handy to know."
The agent on the right looked back over his shoulder, scanning the area and then, apparently seeing no danger, turning back. Then April landed, right in line with the camera view, on the last row of seats closest to the them. She hunkered down and peered over the seat back at the men and her mouth worked saying something softly. The camera zoomed in on her and the trio at the booth behind, the camera man seeing some potential for action, unlike the dismissive agent. The agent started rapping on the glass with the butt of his weapon and the camera swept across the crowd briefly showing some faces upset and some still indifferent, then panned back to April quickly. The camera was still centered on her, not the agents at the booth behind her. April swiveled over the seat back and launched herself, not in a flat tackle, but rolled over, spreading her legs to grab the near agent around the waist.
"She shouldn't have done that," Easy complained after she was on the man's back, with her pistol jammed under his ear. "She was exposed in the air and couldn't return fire for a moment there, when she rolled over. I have to talk to her about that. It was way too risky."
"Well, what should she have done?" Ruby asked.
"She should have braced herself on the chairs and burned the guy down with the gun in his hand and then the other one too, if he did anything at all but throw his hands up in surrender."
"Wouldn't that have looked great, to shoot him in the back on video?" Ruby pointed out. "Most people would view that as cold blooded murder."
"This isn't a Hollywood video. The man was a legitimate target once he had a weapon in his hand. I want April home in one piece. She's too valuable to get herself shot, trying to be fair to some Security goon."
"I'm sorry," he added in a moment, "you're right, it would have looked terrible to the vast majority of people, who've never been shot at."
On the screen, the agent on the left was pointing the wrong end of his pistol at April menacingly. His partner squatted just a hair at the motion anyway.
"What an ass," Easy judged. "Would have served him right if she just reached across and squeezed the trigger since he was offering. No," he agreed again with Ruby, before she could voice it. "The public wouldn't like her doing that either, but it would be great tutorial, about not whipping a gun out and waving it around to scare people, when you don't know which end of it to grab. Oh crap, here comes the cops," he nodded at the screen again and continued watching. The camera man finally got the audio turned up, so they could hear too.
"Is the older cop really as unconcerned as he acts?" Ruby wondered.
"I'm not sure," Easy admitted. "He's either very, very, good, or very, very, stupid."
They watched it progress, until Don renounce his citizenship and got enough audio to follow it. When he flicked his citizen's card away, Easy whistled.
"That's not going to play well in North America at all," Easy predicted.
They didn't edit out April mugging for the camera and when they passed through the security gate, they were too far away to hear April threatening the station. Then they were gone and the cameraman panned back to the security people, still arguing at the com booth. The audio was even better now, because they were raising their voices.
"They're going to get away!" the senior Earthie protested.
"They have gotten away," the older station cop pointed out reasonably. "I'm just happy they didn't leave your bloody corpses behind, after shooting up a public area and breaching pressure. I'm not about to let you chase after them, so you can still turn it into a disaster."
"We're Homeland Security. You're obligated to assist us. I demand your weapon and you need to immediately call ahead and keep them from undocking."
"And you're obligated to confirm your identity. Let's see your ID and we'll check it out."
"They took our ID, along with our weapons, damn it!" he yelled.
"Then I'm afraid you're undocumented intruders, near a primary security area. If you'd only checked in with us, before conducting operations on our station, we'd already know who you are. Now you'll have to come in to Security with us, for a very thorough identity check and have some form of documentation issued before you can wander around the public cubic again." The younger cop was pulling some restraints from his belt kit.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the Earthie asked, looking at the restraints absolutely incredulous.
"Protocol for undocumented intruders is to transport them in restraints." he answered. "If you're Homeland Security you should know that. You guys are the ones imposed that rule on us and we don't have any discretion about it. I don't suggest you resist and make a bad situation even worse."
The Earthie grabbed left handed for the older cops Taser. The difference in zero G skills was quickly obvious. The old cop grabbed his wrist and kicked away with both feet, snapping the man's arm first straight and then whipping it back in an arc. He screamed briefly when it dislocated. His partner was clawing at the younger cop's tangle gun, which was pointless, as it needed at least three meters range, for the net to open up when fired. The cop, both hands occupied, head butted him hard and there was a spray of bright blood from his broken nose, that fanned out in the zero G.
By then the old cop had his Taser out and shot the man on his partner in the back, not even hurrying. The one with the dislocated shoulder had also been yanked off his toe hold and used by the older cop as a throw weight to get himself back on deck. He was wind-milling his good arm futilely, to get back within reach of the deck. Being caught drifting, without a hold, was a real newbie error. He had nothing to throw and potentially would have to do what they called a huff and puff - blowing air for the jet action, to push himself back to the deck if there was nobody rescued him.
The old cop turned back and brought the Taser down hard. The snap of the collar bone, breaking on the side opposite the dislocated arm, was audible. That stopped that nonsense, but even Easy winced, when he screamed shrill as a little girl again. The fellow had both arms disabled, but still didn't have the sense to keep his mouth shut, screaming a stream of abuse at the cop. The old boy didn't look mad, just resigned and a flash of alarm passed over the Earth agent's face briefly, when the cop lifted the Taser point blank to his face and stunned him senseless.
"Ouch, what a headache that'll be. He's probably going to get a reprimand for stunning him like that," Easy concluded.
"Still had both feet didn't he?" Ruby objected.
"Yeah, but a grounder can't do much with them. I was home on leave once and pecking at the com terminal with my foot and you can't believe how the family harassed me for days about it. If I'd grabbed a pen with my toes and made some notes, they would have sold me to a freak show. But that would be the reasoning he should put forth, if they question it."
Once the Homeland agents were trussed up with cable ties, the vid ended.
"How about those Earthies? Are they in trouble for resisting station security?"
"Nah," Easy laughed, "they're in trouble for not getting away with it. They got their butts whooped twice in a few minutes. Once by a little girl and a vacuum rat who didn't look like much and then again by a couple station cops. Homeland Security looks down on them like rent-a-cops. I'm afraid they'll be lucky to get work doing crowd control at a Dairy Queen opening now. That vid answered your question though. The old cop? He's good," Easy smiled.
Chapter 11
Commander Gial was filling out reports, in what was still called the ward room of the Arch de Ciel. There was no enlisted men's mess to distinguish it from, because every man aboard was an officer. Even the three who shared duty shifts as cooks. But the traditional usage continued. It was one of the few comfortable places to work on board. He used the thin screen on the wall and avoided his so called cabin, which was just slightly larger than a hot slot rental bed and was only spacious compared to a coffin. The coffee maker was just behind the head of the table, so he didn't have to bother someone to run it to his quarters. They were on long count to leave and he had a new man Émile on lock watch, guarding the dock entry to the vessel. He had a senior man Anton, unobtrusively keeping a watch on the newbie as a backup.
When he got a call from the new man, it rang alarm bells in his mind. "Commander, we have visitors on the dock, asking permission to come aboard," the newbie reported to him. That was unusual and he decided to see for himself. The older officer should have stepped in and handled the matter, unless it really did require his attention. He shut the screen down and clipped his coffee to the table edge. The deck inside the lock was small, because most of that level was taken up with storage. Not only was it close to the main lock, with the biggest dimensions to make loading quick, but it was at the center of gravity of the ship. That meant laying in, or using supplies, changed the moment arms of the ship less. The trade off, was proximity to the lock made theft easier, so there was extensive security for all the bins and lockers, including being within sight of the live guard. The older man doing back up, could reasonably be there doing inventory, so the new man didn't necessarily know he was being evaluated and baby-sat.
When Gial got there though, his experienced hand, Anton, had given up any pretext of disinterest and had joined Émile at the lock. The official guard was standing legs spread and toes in a grab bar, so he was basically filling the doorway, facing out inside the lock. This was the only lock on the vessel large enough for a man to stand in without bending over. He had on not a full dress uniform, but a duty uniform that included colorful insignia, not muted or camouflaged for combat and a bright beret, but no gloves or special dress belt or holster. He wore a pistol in an open, functional holster.
The senior man had joined him at the lock, oriented the opposite way, off center a bit. He had no weapon, but what you could not see from the dock side, was a short submachine gun racked on the inner side of the hull, beside the lock's outer doors. That was at Anton's feet, or the guard's overhead, accessible to them both.
Outside were two men, an older and a younger, in casual clothing. The young one was clutching a small bag and looked frankly frightened. The older had a large soft bag, that must have a sticky bottom, because it was on the deck at his feet and wasn't drifting off.
"Hello I am Gial DeCuir, Master," He offered his hand to the older fellow and got a gentle touch to his palm that said the man had been above the atmosphere a long time, for it to be so natural.
"I'm Christian Mackay of station security and this is my co-worker Dan Holt. We're seeking asylum on your vessel. We expect to be arrested shortly by Homeland Security on political charges, if we can't get off the station. I'm afraid if you don't offer us shelter, our lives will be forfeit. There's not another foreign vessel at dock since the Happy Lewis departed and you are our only hope."
"My! political charges?" Gial wondered aloud. "Do you know specifically what sort of political charges? They're not just ordinary criminal charges?" He wanted it spelled out very clearly. He wasn't interested in helping someone evade justice.
"We received notice on our pads to turn ourselves in for arrest. We are accused of treason, armed rebellion, assault of Federal officers, acting as unregistered foreign agents, conspiracy, unlawful flight, harboring and aiding fugitives, association with terrorist organizations, abuse of prisoners, dereliction of duty and theft of government property." He stopped and smiled, incongruously. "That's just today," he added. "And we are fleeing arrest. Successfully so far."
Gial liked it in a fellow, that he could joke while the hangman slipped the noose on.
"So are any of these other charges true? He asked seriously.
"Yes, I have stolen my Taser here," he said patting it. "Or at least I will, if I take it off the station. I'd understand if you don't want it on your ship. I'd be happy to just lay it on the dock, but I thought I might need it to get here." He suddenly figured something out from Gail's manner. "You haven't been monitoring the news services, have you?"
"Well, no. Not at all..." he was starting to reply, but the fellow whipped out his com pad and told it, "Retrieve news - BBC - Space - National Geographic - NLV - confrontation." He turned it around and offered it to Gial. Gial noted that the younger man Dan was getting very nervous, looking down the docks. Also his own man, Émile, did not allow himself to be distracted from his duty, to look at the pad. That was excellent.
He watched video on the pad, as April and her friend Don he had met earlier, disarmed the two Earth agents, then the fight between these two station cops in front of him and the same agents.
"That's it?" he asked incredulous. "As far as I can see you were following procedure. Is this all the charges are based on? I don't see how you could have accepted their identity, when their papers were gone before you arrived. Are you sure you don't want to go back and defend yourselves? It seems to me they have a poor case."
"If we could count on the rule of law anymore we would. But we humiliated these agents and they depend on fear to operate, not law. We'd never get to stand before a judge. They'll have to make an example of us and I have no desire to be their prisoner. We've had to work with these people and heard too many bragging stories about how they break prisoners, or just make them disappear. I'm too old for that. I'd never survive."
"Where would you want to go?" Gial asked. "We have no accommodations for passengers and a duty schedule to follow. If I take you aboard, it will probably create all sorts of diplomatic problems, way beyond my level of authority."
Christian spread his hands in supplication, looking terribly sad. "We'll go to any port not under USNA authority. We'll transfer to any non-USNA ship that will take us from you. We would like to end up in Home eventually, but we'll go to France, or even to Luna, if that's where we can go now. We can even pay for passage if that makes it easier, but we're asking for humanitarian reasons. Surely your country will give refuge if a man reasonably expects to be tortured and killed. What are the European Union Laws?" he asked.
Gial realized he didn't know. He'd never had a refugee situation, before. That was more an Earth problem and he wasn't trained for it. He might be in bigger trouble, for refusing the man for all he knew.
Three men came easing down the dock, pulling themselves along the hand rail. The young man Dan in front of him looked ready to bolt, but Christian laid a hand on his forearm and calmed him. Once he was sure the young man wouldn't run, he picked his bag up. He made no move for his weapon at all.
The lead man of the three landed tight between the station cops, smiling in satisfaction. The other two landed on each side. "You two are under arrest. You're to be transported groundside to be interrogated, which is a personal disappointment for me, but you'll have the joy of my company until I put you on a shuttle." He had a hasty bandage taped on his nose, still dark with blood that kept seeping and a wad of cotton in one nostril. It gave his voice a nasal twang. Gial knew from the video he'd been stunned just three hours ago, on top of having his nose broken, so he must have a throbbing headache. All of them had been stunned in training and he knew you didn't just shrug it off this quickly. Of course the other agent was much worse off, probably in a hospital bed for a few days.
The bandaged one had a plastic cable restraint in his left hand and their manner said all three were confident these two had no place to run. First though he said, "I'll take that," and reached across him, to relieve Christian of his bag. Rather than yield it, Chris gave it a straight arm shove, than made it hit and stick on the deck beside Émile, inside the lock. The Earth agent had a look of irritation flash across his face and he casually backhanded Christian across the face hard, with a long sweeping slap he made no attempt to hide coming.
He knew Chris was in no position to duck, or defend himself and he did it with such obvious relish that it shocked Gial, despite what he had just been told about the Security goons. Everyone froze for a heartbeat at the loud crack. Chris swayed back on his foot hold, but held on. The side of his face was instantly bright red.
"It's going to be a long wait for the shuttle smart ass. A long hard wait for you." He bent over into the lock and grabbed the bag straps
As he leaned over and into the ships volume, Émile mirrored his motion with his pistol, bringing it up and out, without hesitation or consultation. Jamming it right between the man's eyes, over the discolored bandage. The Click! Click! Click! of him rolling the hammer back with his thumb, was amazingly loud. The Earthie froze and appeared to be holding his breath.
"You have crossed the line, into our sovereign vessel, sir," he informed him. "If you so much as twitch funny, I will blow your damn brains back over the line, to join your worthless ass."
That wasn't exactly the official protocol for challenging a trespass. But Gial was so impressed with the junior's decisiveness and the effectiveness of his heart felt delivery, that he decided to let it pass. He was concerned though, as he could see his finger on the trigger. It indicated how very close to shooting he was, as he was trained in trigger discipline. Meanwhile, Anton had leaned over and scooped up the submachine gun from its rack and was nestling it in his arms. That chilled any silly ideas the other two had.
"Gentleman, your weapons," Gial demanded, with a double snap of his fingers to hurry them up. They produced two pistols very slowly, eyeballing the machine gun and offered them reluctantly by finger and thumb, across the threshold. He accepted them and reached across and relieved the bent over agent of his also. "My, you fellows must buy these by huge lots, the way you run through them, remembering how April and Don had taken the man's weapons just hours ago. Msr. Burnet," he addressed Émile formally, "I don't wish to take your prisoner aboard. Would you remove him from our space and we'll let his invasion go in this instance."
"Let go la valise and back off, bite," Émile instructed through bared teeth, mixing languages in his anger, barely controlling himself. He was visibly on the edge, breathing harshly and face red.
The agent uncurled his fingers from the bag handles and eased upright and out of their vessel's interior space slowly. The pistol stayed pressed between his eyes, helping push him all the way back, until Émile's arm was extended straight. Then he eased it back, but didn't lower it. Gial didn't blame the Earthie's caution. Émile had so much pressure on the trigger he was still scared he might shoot him accidentally.
"Msr. Beckett," he addressed Anton, "please precede me to the bridge and sound Duty Stations – Battle and prepare to undock. As soon as we seal up here, I'd like you to inform local control we are undocking and I'll join you up there by the time you take us on thrusters beyond the local control limit."
He nodded to the station police. "If you two would be pleased to come aboard, you have my leave. You'll have to show me what's in your baggage, for the safety of my vessel and I can't guarantee where I can take you, but I won't hand you over to these swine."
"Thank you," Christian said, pushed off carefully through the edge of the lock to avoiding interfering with both crewman and rolled over to land on the far bulkhead. He took hold facing back to them. The younger man shoved off with a panicked leap and piled into the locker doors opposite in a heap, so that his friend had to snag him and his bag, that were drifting away. He lost control completely, covering his face with both hands, sobbing softly, ashamed and trying to hide and stifle it.
"We're undocking very quickly," Gial informed the three still outside his lock. "I suggest you dog this hatch yourselves, if you don't want the section blown to vacuum. Not that I care for you personally." Anton took that as a signal to slap the door closure, without direct order and two curved sections slid quickly shut from top and bottom, of the opening, then pivoted outward as they almost touched, sealing with a solid thud. Anton returned the gun to its rack and drew a couple restraining bands across it, leaving quickly to carry out his maneuvering orders.
"Émile, take this man to my cabin and secure him for boost and have the medical officer administer a sedative, if he concurs it is needed. Then assume your duty station."
"You're safe now," he assured the young man touching his shoulder. He nodded his understanding, but still couldn't regain his composure. "Just stay in my bunk while we maneuver and we'll be along to help you soon. Use the head if you have need first." Émile helped him away, guiding him.
"Are they that terrible? He asked Christian, unbelieving despite the evidence of his eyes, "or is he overreacting?"
"Dan isn't a coward," Chris assured him. "We have to work with them, we get to know them much better than the public. Too many of them are sadists," he said simply.
"I don't mean to seem the ungracious host, but I want to see your bags quickly and then if you'll join me on the flight deck, there's an extra pull out seat, where you can ride as well as anywhere and see a great deal more. He opened a bin and pulled out a heavy plastic sack to transfer things.
Anton had reached the bridge and sounded a nerve grating buzzer, to call the crew to duty stations. They were fortunate they were on long count to depart anyway and nobody was off ship.
Gial went right into the younger man's bag transferring items to his plastic bag. There were a few items of clothing and some sports shoes. A folder of printed pictures, of a normal unremarkable family, with him in a few shots. There were surprisingly, a couple old books printed on paper and a rather nice camera. He just stuffed the whole bag back into the luggage rather than do it item by item.
"Well, no bombs or national treasures," he quipped, feeling like a voyeur, prying.
There was a long drag to one side, that told them they had left the dock, then they swayed back the other way, as Anton headed for the edge of the station's controlled volume.
The older man's bag was almost emptied by the first item out - an expensive custom p-suit, folded and secured with elastic bands. There were a couple packs of footies and gloves, then a bunch of disks - music and data probably. A small case when opened was a mix of casino chips from various houses. Gial was surprised to see they were 10K dollar and 10K EM denomination gaming chips. Lots of them.
"I've known for awhile I might be leaving, Chris explained, "and these are one of the few things as good as cash, you can use to draw your accounts down without raising suspicions. They mass less than precious metals too. The snoops probably just think I have a gambling problem."
A small portfolio had legal papers and photos. Then on the bottom there was a hard case, well worn and heavy. It opened without a lock and there was a military model pistol. A 14mm recoilless, with the bulky cone of a brake on the muzzle. Also a cleaning kit and thirty rounds of the big shells in mixed loads, some soft, some armor piercing, in a plastic case. It was really well worn, the finish rubbed through from holster wear in places.
Gial returned it to the bag and asked Chris. "Would you put your Taser in here for now, please? We don't have the quaint custom of changing commanders under way, like the Chinese, so you shouldn't need it before the next port. I'll put these in a cubic meter bin," he announced as he did it, stuffing everything back in the bag. He considered thoughtfully and added the gun he'd lifted from the bandaged agent. "You deserve that from him for the assault and I don't need more that a matched brace of these things. It's the custom to go armed now on Home, if we can get you there, so you might like having it. Even they would regard that recoilless as excessive in pressure." He slammed the door. "You can palm the lock and we'll go see where we're off to. I have to call in and tell my people I have a tiger by the tail." He looked at Christian with a grimace. "I'll have the medical officer bring you a cold pack also. Your face is already swelling where he slapped you."
"Yeah he got me pretty solid," Chris allowed, touching by his ear gingerly. "You're giving me access to the locker under way?" he asked surprised, palming the lock.
"I don't see anything that's a hazard to my vessel," he assured him. "You're not such a fool as to shoot the big gun in a ship you're riding. The over pressure alone on that monster would probably burst a compartment and I hate to think what it would sound like. Besides, you could have strapped it on instead of the Taser, to help you get here and didn't. So you have some idea where it is appropriate. Come, follow me to the flight deck."
Chapter 12
Having breakfast with friends was one of the things April enjoyed most. In fact, if she had an appointment for each morning in the week, she was happy every day in anticipation. Heather had listened to the story of her adventure on New Las Vegas and was pitching an idea to her when she stopped. "You got mail didn't you?" she said, in an accusing tone.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," April admitted. "How did you know?"
"Well, I can't see your eyes scan inside those spex, but you were attacking breakfast like a starving animal and then all of a sudden you stopped shoveling it in and kept chewing the same bite thoughtfully for a long time. That's pretty obvious."
"I really do apologize. I was still listening and I am interested. Let me tell you what I got and you'll understand a little why it distracted me. My grandpa got a FedEx shipment of electronics this morning and inside was a plain envelope. It had written on it ‘April Lewis - private and personal.' Someone went to a lot of trouble to get that in there. It's clean too. No prints, no organic traces and no biohazards."
"Probably some young guy that saw you on a web cast, who couldn't accept his love was unrequited when you ignored his attempts to contact you."
April had been happy a few times, that she was well separated from the sort of people who stalked public figures. Since she'd been on the news last year she'd received much more unsolicited attention than she wanted. The cost of an orbital ride kept the nut cases far away, but she had received some strange mail. "It doesn’t feel like that sort of thing, but anyway I'll find out later what it's about. You do have my undivided attention again. I promise."
"As I was saying, now is the time to grab a hunk of land on the Moon. The Americans, Chinese, Japanese and Russians all have very moderate claims and they are all so far apart we can pick an open area and not pose a threat to any of them. But they keep sending study parties out and once a rover has been through an area and they have spent time and money surveying and testing, they consider it part of their sphere of influence, even if they don't leave a moon hut or survey markers behind."
"The Israelis and the Australians are talking about setting up independent bases and if they can there will be other smaller countries rush in too. Everybody is anticipating the cost of maintaining bases will drop, with material from the rock and possible a snowball, so now is a window of opportunity. Nobody is feeling crowded yet but they will. So we have a limited window before it's all claimed."
"So what do you want me to do? Buy some lots?" April asked.
"Much more than that, I want you to be in from the ground floor and help me structure it correctly and offer advice. I want you to pay for your land with service. We'll need to drop a modified rover on our site and some sort of decent sized moon huts and vehicle shelter arches, that can be plowed over for the rovers. We'll need a com link up and a continuing human presence, to appear legitimate to people. And I'd like to try to keep political ties to Home, if people here will allow that. I want to drop all the important stuff in a short period of time, so it's presented as an accomplished feat and there can't be any debate about whether to allow it to proceed."
"So you want Lewis Couriers to add a regular Moon run?"
"It doesn't have to be a regular weekly or anything. Just so you can drop supplies as needed and list it as a regular destination for someone to buy a ticket. You may have to take a loss on an occasional flight, but we'd try to have standby freight, that could be sent with an unexpected passenger."
"Remember how they tried to steal the Rock?" April reminded her. "If you want to hold a land area, the only way you'll succeed, is if you make clear to the politicians you can hold the area, by force of arms. That's the only thing they respect. What are you going to put there to defend your base and territory?"
"Our huts will have a laser system and a small mobile rack of missiles like Dave puts on your ships and the rover will have missiles too. Once we get a little cash flowing in, I want to bury one moon hut deep enough it will be basically a bunker. And then when, we have a freight rover free I have something I bought I want to bring up from Tonga," she said, with a suddenly coy grin.
"Dear me, I worry when you smile like that. What did you buy, a surplus sixteen inch battleship canon?"
Heathers smile turned to dismay. "Well not that big. But, yeah, I bought a canon off a ship, but just a frigate. I never would have thought you'd guess that, in a million years," she admitted, disappointed it wasn't a surprise.
"It was a joke. I mean, I thought it was a joke. What the heck kinda canon could you afford, or even lift to orbit? The kind I was talking about, I don't think anybody even has a lifter that could get the barrel to orbit."
"How many millimeters is sixteen inches? I must be figuring wrong."
April thought a second. "A bit over four hundred millimeters," she estimated.
It was Heather's turn to be stunned. "That's the bore?" She wanted to make sure.
"Yup, it tossed out projectiles that weighed over a thousand kilograms, heavy as a ground car and accurate out to something over forty kilometers too. Sucker would leave craters, looked like they belonged on Luna."
"That's amazing. I never knew they built them that big. I found a fellow on Tonga that could get me a Bofors Mark IV 57mm. It was scrapped off a Malaysian boat they took out of service. It’s a real nice little gun, that can engage surface or air targets. I was actually looking for a cheaper 40mm, but this is nicer even if it's a little heavier. We can't afford to lift the armored deck turret it was housed in, but if we cut everything off, we can break it into four bundles, I can get it shipped up cheaper than you'd think. The tube is the biggest thing. Some of the frame we'll duplicate in aluminum or titanium locally, rather than lift them. The shop down there has already stripped all the normal lubricants off and when it comes up it will be all surface treated and vacuum lubed. I already have the ballistic computer and am converting it to lunar specs."
"How far will it reach?" April wondered.
"With full propellant charges, muzzle velocity will exceed escape velocity on the moon, so it can really reach any target we can see, or paint with radar and indirect fire to any surface point on the Moon itself. In theory it could even engage earth orbit targets from the Moon, but not very accurately. They had shells for sale that steer themselves with little winglets, in the air, so with a little modification they can use pressurized gas thrusters to do the same in vacuum. They seemed to have a lot of drawings and ideas all made up already."
That sounded suspiciously like all the specs and systems Dave's shop already had right to hand, when they militarized the Happy Lewis. April explained to Heather how they suspected quite a few other ships had received hidden missile and laser systems, before the Lewis. Perhaps it was the same with the canon and they were not at all first.
"Well, the fellow from Bofors was very helpful. He had a chip available that could receive laser targeting control in the back of the shell and actuate the thrusters way back from the target. He pointed out if you used too much volume for thruster gas, you reduced the size of the explosive charge, until you reached a trade off, unless you could actually directly impact a target. So you need to correct as far back as possible."
"I told him we'd only need about 50cc for the explosive and he was real happy with the volume that would leave for gas, but he wondered if that would be enough charge to delaminate the shell body. He asked me how many gram-equivalents to PBX it would be, since that is how most vacuum rated munition was charged. I told him I didn't know, but I could express it in TNT equivalence, which seemed to amuse him." But he said, "OK give me that spec."
"Well, when I told him we figured on loading two and four kilo-ton equivalent charges, I thought he was going to have puppies. He didn't say anything for a long time. Then he kind of freaked out, with a big burst of Swedish I didn't understand. After he calmed down, he very sternly recommended we fail fuse them, so we didn't have any looping around the Earth-Moon system, waiting to bump into something. Which sounded like a good idea. I don't know if it was a coincidence, but Sweden finally ratified the EU bill to recognize us the very next day, after dragging their heels for nearly a year. What do you think?"
"I think they are happy to be friendly with any lady, who has her own atomic canon. They'd have probably diplomatically recognized you all by your lonesome, without Home," she said laughing. "How many rounds does this puppy pump out a minute?"
"Two hundred twenty a minute, but a magazine only holds a hundred twenty. We planned to put the two kilo-ton unguided shells in one magazine for ground targets and the four kilo-ton guided shells in the other for space targets. They both mount up and switch off during fire. That's as much money as we want to spend at first on ammo and as many accumulator cells as we want to have to make. It takes a couple minutes to replace the empty magazines and you know how space battles go. Three minutes into it, if anyone won they're going home, not reloading."
"Let's see, 240 times 3kiloton average. That's 720 kiloton you can pump out in a little over a minute spread out real efficiently. That should be pretty formidable on top of your other systems. Sounds to me like you can hold against quite a force. So if I drop you with your equipment, how do you mark off your boundaries and make your claim?"
"That's what the rover is for. With a plow on the front it can plow up a berm and stick a metal rod in it every hundred meters or two, with an optical and radar reflector on the end. You couldn't wander across the edge by accident and not see it was a man made border and with the reflectors it will be obvious on radar to a ship setting down also."
"So is that the lot size? A hundred meters or two square?" April was picturing her families cubic that was the basic source of their wealth. All of their apartment and the non-rotating cubic at the hub both would all sit in a hundred meter square easily.
"Oh no April. We want to advertise these as ranches. I just want to be able to see one marker from another along an edge. I was thinking twenty-five kilometers square."
April tried to visualize a flat surface that big. It was breath taking. Then it hit her. "What about the Moon itself. Do you own the rocks and dirt where your land is?" she expressed as well as she could.
"With real estate, you own the mineral rights, in a wedge all the way to the center of the planet. In reality you run out of technologies to dig, long before the sides angle in. They can only dig a few kilometers on Earth and drill a bit deeper. Luna is cooler and less gravity so I imagine you can go deeper, but I don't know how far."
April tried to imagine owning that much stuff. More material than Home was made of. A lot of it would be junk but it was still mass. And there would be a considerable amount of aluminum and titanium, a bit of silicon and iron, even a bit of calcium and potassium, oxygen too although it would be bound tightly. That's OK, power is cheap. She had to look at the studies of regolith composition again.
"I need your help, so what I'm offering is this: Tell me how big a hunk you want and I'll plow off your boundaries and mark them. I'll do the same for myself and any other partners, but we have to be reasonable. We can't spend weeks marking off big lots and run up expenses, before we mark some out for sale. Later when we have some sales, we can mark some more out for ourselves. It might be good to have holdings spread around anyway. You never know how things will develop and which land will end up more valuable years from now. The rover should be able to average about twenty kilometers an hour, the guys who have driven one tell me. So it could plow off the outside of four lots bundled in a shift. That would be a square fifty kilometers on a side. Would that be enough to satisfy you for a start?"
"I'll be honest. I don't think I can even picture that big an area in my mind very well. It's more than I can get a handle on. I'd be very happy with that. Do you have any idea where you want to do this?" April asked.
"When I ran it past Jeff, he told me to put it smack on the equator. I had no idea why, but he said that's where you'd want to put a Lunar Beanstalk. You know the materials and problems, still make it iffy to make an Earth Beanstalk, but Jeff says a Lunar one is a lot easier and we have materials for it now, so it would make the site much more valuable."
April wrinkled her nose up. "Luna turns so slow. The geostationary orbit must be way out there. How far would it have to reach?"
"With a Lunar stalk you never reach a real geostationary orbit. That would be at the Earth's center, on the nearside. So you just build to the balance point - L1 - and then hang a counterbalance to the earth side a little to keep it under tension. It's pretty far. About fifty eight thousand kilometers."
"And there'll really be a market for something that slow? Are you sure it won't be passed by when better ships come into service?"
"Jeff says they had a similar thing with railroads on Earth. They are slow and not convenient at all, but they are still there today, because nothing is cheaper at moving bulk goods. He also pointed out something I would have never have thought of. You don't have to take the cable all the way to the end. You can build platforms at different levels and land and take off from them, easier than dropping to the surface. He figured you could build hotels and apartments along the cable also and the view would be much nicer than off a spinning station."
"I know two other people that you should recruit," April offered. "This looks so good to me, because we are so limited here what we can do with cubic. Jon has wanted a range where he can train and qualify his people with guns. He already mentioned maybe somebody on Luna had a range we could use. You could offer him a whole area to run exercises for the militia. I'd ask for his support and help and offer to dedicate a nice piece of land for Security. I'd try to find something that isn't just a flat plain. Something with some hills or mountains too, for interesting training. He'd make a fine ally."
"Sounds good. In fact we should set aside sections for a town square, a park and room for a university and a spaceport. Why not Public Safety too? Who else?"
"The King of Tonga. He's in about the same situation as we are. They have very limited land. No way to expand. And land is very important to them. Owning land is a right under their system, but they just don't have the land to give everybody a piece. I bet they would be your first permanent residents if you wanted. They did jump right in and recognize us and work for the Japanese to lift Tongan flagged vessels to bring us supplies. We owe them and they can give you guarantees of Earth landing rights, in exchange for land and access to lunar trade. I think you should make Tongan vessels free of any port fees and give them special protection and priority. You can either offer him his own territory near ours, or some kind of special guarantees of access for Tongan citizens. He's tied to Home already. I've seen Pa 'anga notes circulating already. I just don't know how he would feel about so many of his people mixing in with an electronic democracy. He might think it would undercut his government. You have to think of some way to make everyone feel secure."
"Maybe if we adapted a constitutional monarch, they could buddy and irritate the hell out of the Americans together," Heather suggested.
April laughed at that. "But who would be King?" she chuckled.
Chapter 13
April canceled her other plans for the day, to see her gramps about this mystery envelope. She headed home to meet him there. He had partitioned off a section of their cubic for his own apartment, with a separate entry on the corridor, but it was cramped and they all met in the big apartment if they could. When her parents were out during the day it didn't hurt anyone's privacy. With both her and her older brother growing up, she could see that dividing the space further would reduce the space left to her parents, to a cramped uncomfortable volume. Fortunately she could also see, that in just a few years, having enough money free to buy a sizable place of her own, was going to be no problem. Living at home still was no particular burden yet, since they were rarely all there at once. She was just grateful her parents were not in any rush to move her out and have a more spacious place.
But she was aware her brother seemed to have no such inclination. At one of the rare dinners recently, where they had all managed to get together to eat, he had brought up the idea he would be needing a place of his own. His dad had immediately agreed that would be a fine thing. He went on to quickly say they could remodel if he did that and they could have a walk in closet and add some room back onto the living area. Bob had scowled at his plate and not brought up the idea again, as spending his own money for cubic was not where he'd been going with the idea. April had always gotten along with her brother, compared to a lot of siblings pairs she knew, but as time went along she felt he was getting more and more selfish in personality. Their courier business was doing fine and he had other businesses in which she had no interest. But it seemed as he gained wealth, he got cheaper instead of loosening up.
When she got home her grandpa was sitting on the sofa working off his pad, linked to the big thin screen on the wall. He shut that down once she showed up, picked up a plain white paper envelope and offered it to her. She sat close beside him and pulled the aikuchi and inserted the blade in the gap at the end of the gummed flap, slitting the long side open. The letter inside was handwritten on plain sheets. It had been such a long since she had read anything other than a short note in cursive, that it looked odd, but it was in a lovely hand, neatly done and legible. Her grandpa didn't lean in to read along, letting her go through it first, waiting patiently. It said:
Dear Miss Lewis,
I am Lieutenant Isaac Freidman and my associate is Lieutenant Eric Brockman, who was my comrade in the Naval service of the USNA.
During the recent campaign Home carried out against the USNA we were assigned to the personal protection unit, guarding the person of the President. That was the duty we were discharging when your forces destroyed the deep bunkered facility in West Virginia, known as the Deepwell complex, or now referred to in the media as the Charleston Bunker.
If you are not aware of it, the President and a number of his line of successors were at the Deepwell facility when it was destroyed. Lt. Brockman and I however did succeed in extracting President Hadley overland to a civilian area of safety, outside the complex.
We were loyal and honorable officers, serving to the best of our ability. We had neither hidden sympathies, nor interest in acting on your behalf. However circumstances changed, so that President Hadley and several of his detail died at our hands, not by your military action.
It was generally unknown and may never be known by the public, that the day to day conduct of the Office of the Presidency had deteriorated, to where it was run by simple whim and decree, rather than any orderly process of law. During the period of hostility with Home, a large number of high officials and ranking military men were imprisoned and even executed, for simple displeasure with their service by President Hadley.
In our case we followed all the established procedures to remove the President from harm's way. However president Hadley resisted removal and would have died in Deepwell if we had not forcibly removed him. He repeatedly and irrationally attempted to return, after the facility was collapsed and destroyed.
Upon delivering the President to outside forces we witnessed him demanded our immediate execution within his sight, before he would consent to continue his evacuation.
Asked to surrender our weapons and face an immediate firing squad by such illegal orders, we engaged the members of his receiving detail in a gun battle and prevailed. Although we are aware of the amnesty program you demanded, we doubt we would be regarded as beneficiaries of that plan, given the circumstances we just related. From a practical perspective, nothing has changed since the Republic's surrender. It is still the normal order of business for people to be snatched from public view, to be held without public accusation or trial.
Although this affair did not start that way, we now see allying ourselves with Home and attempting to travel there as our best option. We feel we can embrace the political atmosphere and goals to which Home is working, better than any place we could seek shelter on Earth. We desire to be contacted by laser com at -70.3478 W. 45.6231 N. where we will monitor for the next month. If you have occasion to send any representatives to the continent, we ask you to consider having such persons escort us on safe transport to lift for Home.
We decided to communicate with you Miss Lewis, because of the few individuals from Home visible in the media, you both risked yourself for freedom and have gained no office or title from it. Obviously our trust of people with political aspirations is seriously compromised.
We await your communication and hopefully a meeting.
Sincerely,
Isaac Freidman and Eric Brockman
April passed the letter to her gramps and got up. "I'm getting tea would you like some?"
"Please, little gal. That would be nice."
When she came back she waited for him to finish the long letter.
"Wordy fellow, but it makes sure we know exactly where they are coming from." he said.
"The way they say we don't have agents to enforce their surrender, makes me wonder if we did the right thing. Perhaps we should not have demanded anything we can't enforce. If they can get away with stopping travel to Home, maybe that will embolden them to try lifting an armed shuttle next, which we really would respond to with arms." April offered.
"Possibly. But we can't back up now and grant them leave to close travel. It's too late even if it was a mistake. But yes, it could help them get slowly get bolder, working themselves up to defying us. President Wiggen was put in to finish Hadley's term, but there are those already pushing for her impeachment for surrendering. I don't think they'll succeed in bringing that, but still I doubt she'll get another term."
"What other choice did she have? Can't people see that?"
"Seems the greater part of the public doesn't agree. They stayed safe in their homes and the power never went out. They lost their sat TV, or the phones didn't work well for awhile. They had a disruption because the stores had to distribute things without check outs. But for most people it wasn't a hardship. For some of them, it was free food for a couple months. Sometimes better than what they would have bought. They are already used to not traveling and the government has already been very skilled at covering up the death of troops, because of occupying the Trans Arabic Protectorate and other areas around the globe."
"How do they do that? Aren't there funerals and upset relatives?"
"They stopped shipping the bodies of enlisted men home and now if you tell others you lost a family member, it's considered a breach of national security. So they can strip the family of badly needed death benefits. If any of the rest of the family are military, their career effectively ends also if they blab. That's quite a lever on people, who join the service for a job and security. They'd all end up on the pavement, with no insurance and no housing. The prospects of a civilian job aren't very good with a black mark against you either. Nothing we can do about that. We can't take on the job of reforming North America."
"What I'm fretting about, is who will replace Wiggen when she goes? The choices are mostly bad and worse. The choices are between somebody that wants to hit us right away, or one that wants to wait a bit, to build up their forces first. You can see them cranking up the propaganda machine already, to fight us again. We have been getting terrible press. A few of us older guys talked about broadcasting video, to show our side of things, but a we finally decided it was pointless. We examined how that sort of program has been working for the Americans in the Pan Arabic Protectorate and the Greeks in Macedonia. The time such a propaganda machine worked is just over. Anybody with an I.Q. bigger than their shoe size doesn't even believe video images now. What we need, is for the media outlets to pursue us. Just like when Genji Akira did that web piece on you. That piece and the video off the Happy left such an impression, you still have high public recognition when people are tested."
"You polled people about remembering me?" she asked, starting to get irritated.
"No, no we just bought generic polls, that ask people about a whole list of people in the news the last year and you tested way up there on the list," he assured her. "People use them to decide who to ask to help sell ground cars or whatever. I'd have been afraid to commission an actual survey about you alone, because that might tell somebody we intend to use your celebrity. And what is really helpful, is even people that don't like Home at all, still responded favorably to you as an individual."
"This is horrible," April muttered. "I have no desire to be a public figure."
"But you are, whether you want to be or not. Especially among the young people. So what I'm going to say worries me as your grandpa, but I see it as one of our few options. I think you should go down and take a vacation in North America and rub their noses in the rights we demanded in their surrender. They need reminded they lost. You should travel without permits, wear your pistol and go to clubs and parks, where you'll cause a fuss and create problems. I shouldn't try too hard to have kind words for the politicos and I wouldn't let them bustle you off out of sight, with the pretense it is special treatment. When you get interviewed and you will, don't smooth over you fought in the war. Nobody has to be ashamed of it and you can publicly, just matter of fact, tell of sinking aircraft carriers and destroying bases, that they are trying to keep from the public. It will create a real problems for them. We don't care if you even reveal the Great San Diego earthquake was a miscalculation. After all we didn't do it on purpose. If I did it they'd just arrest my butt and nobody would care. If they do it to a young, popular girl it looks horrible."
"Wouldn't they deny what I say?"
"Yes, they will, but it's against the law to mechanically verify the truth of what someone is saying in North America right now, unless you have their permission. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be a politician alive who could make a speech. So my suggestion is, to invite them to verify everything you say with analyzing software. All the newsies have it and use it. They just can't say what it told them. And if anyone contradicts you, point out they don't have the courage to allow their own statements to be run through the test."
"Are you sure anyone will be interested? I won't be telling them anything fifty others couldn't tell them. There are some things I'd like to do down there, such as to go to the Air and Space Museum, but I always figured it would be too big a hassle to do. I'm not even sure I could afford it. I have all kinds of things going on to do up here." April related to him her agreement with Heather, to help grab Lunar real estate.
"Things are cheap dirtside. You can stay in a nice hotel, for what an eight hour sleep shift in a hot slot drawer costs up here. We all kicked in money to fund it. We thought we could probably get folks to fund an official embassy in Washington, that wouldn't help us at all, but didn't want to ask the general population of Home for what looks like your private vacation, even though we think it will do much more good. All your friends kicked in. Even Ruby and Easy gave travel vouchers for your flights."
"We would have come up with about five million Euro, but Eddie has gotten filthy rich in the markets while building his ships. He insisted on giving twenty-five million. We actually tried to talk him out of it. We thought you'd object to taking that much. But he pointed out it might avert a war and if we do go to war we will probably bombard all the things off the map, that his wealth is based on. A lot of his stocks and securities would be worthless. So he considers it an investment. He swears it is less than twenty percent of what he is worth too. He's talking about financing another habitat himself, so I believe him. If anything he probably fudged a hair on that, to cover up how much he really has and I bet it is closer to five percent of what he's worth," he confided.
"What he said specifically, is you should flaunt it, that the North Americans respect money almost as much as military power, so make them aware how much wealth Home has. The newsies paint our wealth as unfair, but honestly, almost nobody would turn down a chance to share in it. Eddie recommended buying a vacation home outright and shopping so the gossip columns carry it. In fact he said if you need more, just call him up and he'd transfer it. Now with these two," he said tapping the letter, "you'll have something else to get you in the news. Just try not to get your little butt shot off."
"If I do, will you work with Heather instead of me, to get her land company going?"
"Sure. I'll do whatever she needs. I'll even go to Luna myself, if I need to. Deal?"
April thought a minute. Their appeal to her by name was strong, but she also resented being put on the spot. It smelled of a set-up, that they'd taken up a collection before talking to her and it was sort of an imposition, but a tremendous compliment too.
"Yeah, I'll go. But I think I'll get that gene mod from Jerry before I go," she said.
"Then get your pad out and I'll beam you what we have collected. It's about thirty million EM and you can convert it, or move it around, or spread it among accounts. Whatever you want. It's yours and you use it however you feel is best. If you have any left over when you come back, it's yours for the risks you're taking.
That evening she got a call from Jon.
"Which hat you got on tonight?" she asked, seeing his serious expression.
He fumbled around his bald head like he was feeling it.
"I suppose it is my Ambassador's hat. I was thinking about you going dirtside. If you want, I can delegate some of my authority to you – give you the protection of diplomatic status and write a letter about it, so they have less ability to hassle you."
"But if I do that, how will my going down help the next citizen of Home who has to cross USNA territory and can't claim diplomatic status? They can disown any courtesy they show me, as being a special case, not broad treaty rights," April suggested. "You don't intend to issue papers to every Home citizen going dirtside do you?"
Jon looked abstracted for a moment, like it was worth considering.
"No, I don't suppose we could get away with that."
"Then I think I'll pass on that, but thanks for worrying about me," April told him.
"I do. Be careful down there," he begged.
Chapter 14
April was enjoying a few days being at home, without a flight. After her last nerve racking trip to NLV she got an invitation from Ruby and Easy, for dinner at their place and that was today. She had never eaten Easy's cooking. Peeling open rations in zero G did not qualify as cooking, even if you did slop hot sauce on it to gag it down.
But she met Easy first at the North gate, to have a game of zero G hand ball, before going over. It was a bit different than North American rules. The serve line ran all the way around four walls of the court and the far wall was four meters square, but twice that deep from the serve line. You had to wear footies as well as gloves and could use your feet too of course. It was nice to be able to play again. The court had been shut down for awhile when they were bringing the Rock back, because the owner of the court, Jim, was the one who rode the rock back until it was in a stable trailing orbit behind Home.
Perhaps stable was too much to claim. It would require an occasional nudge and the distance between it and Home varied a little from day to day, but it stayed pretty much on the same track as Home. A bonus was anything that came at Home from behind had to pass the Rock and the militia was using that fact with the owner’s blessings, to set up a missile battery on the asteroid. Jim's function had been pretty much to ride along, to make sure nobody waited until it was almost back to Earth and hopped on saying it was abandoned and claiming salvage. Her dad had talked to her the other day about that. He felt they needed a treaty everyone would sign onto, affirming that if public notice was given that a mass was property in transit and not abandoned that it would be the equivalent of cattle rustling to grab it. So Jim's career as a Rock sitter was probably doomed.
But his current job was good for him. Everybody seemed to like Jim. He had a medical problem with his bones that made low G a necessity. In fact, if he went through to the South dockage to ride a shuttle to another habitat he had to take the center route. He couldn't take the spin in the outer rings and he sure couldn't take a ride down to Earth. The ride up had almost killed him when he was much younger.
When April showed up at his desk for their reservation, she was struck with how much he looked like the new merchant, who had opened the general merchandise store near the cafeteria. They both were compact and had the same slightly off proportions because of a bigger head. But Jim had that bloated look from zero G, that drugs could not entirely eliminate. He had a paper book open on the counter, with a hefty rubber band stretched across it to keep it flat, but he was looking at some paper money with visible skepticism, usually reserved for Yuan. It was a bunch of Tongan notes and the top one was an old frayed bill in a sort of rose color, that said two Pa ‘anga.
"You been getting any of these?" he asked and handed the note to her. It had a watermark on one end and a portrait of a very serious heavy duty dude on the other. He was in a fancy uniform with a stand up collar, but he had that no neck sort of look, that said you didn't want to arm wrestle this guy. April turned the note over and it had a picture of some ladies working on what had to be some kind of rug or mat on the ground, in front of a thatched hut and palm trees. It said National Reserve Bank of Tonga in English along the top.
"Yeah, I've seen a few of them. You'll probably see a lot more, because Tongan flagged vessels are doing our supply run and the Japanese seem content to leave it that way."
"Do you know which way this currency is running? Is the exchange tending up, or should I dump ‘em?"
"You'll have to go online and look Jim, but long term, maybe the next two or three years, I think you very well might see Tonga's fortunes improve dramatically," April confided to him. "Just keep it to yourself that I told you. It's not a sure thing."
"Thanks April," Jim said smiling big. He had a set of chompers you couldn't believe, when he bared them in a big smile. "I have to start saving my money again. That new guy, Ames, was in to play and was talking to me when the Tongan lady went in to play, after his singles. He asked a whole bunch of questions about my bone disease and I had to admit, I have kind of given up following the research for the last six or seven years, because they didn't seem to have any treatments on the horizon. He wants to look into it and see if something couldn't be done for me. Wouldn't that be a hoot? Do you know, he has run through about the top half dozen handball players on Home? And when he played today, they wanted the cameras relaying his match to a party running, over at the animal house. I guess they had forty or so construction workers watching the big screen there, while they had off shift lunch. The iron workers all think they have such superior zero G skills, they can't believe a Grounder that just recently came up here could whip ‘em at handball. But a lot of money changed hands and each time the odds are favoring the doc better as he whips ‘em. I'm no fool, I bet on him today before they all wise up."
April didn't know if she approved of that or not. She suspected Dr. Ames must bet heavily on himself. So he shouldn't be hurting for cash flow, waiting for the gene business to pick up. She suddenly realized she would have to decide what was fair and not, when she had the same ability.
Jim took her bills. She gave him USNA dollars and he was probably relieved after the Tongan notes, that she didn't try to unload Brazilian money or something on him. He didn't take transfer, just cash. Easy had gone into the court ahead of her.
"April, you've always been straight with me, just like your granddad. Can I ask you something confidential and not have you talk it around?" He looked unusually serious.
"Absolutely Jim. I do know how to keep a secret."
"Am I repulsive? I mean do you think if I asked a normal woman out, she'd be offended?"
"Normal as compared to what? Because your bones break easy?"
"No. I'm a dwarf. I mean I'm a pretty big dwarf and I don't have the extreme proportions, but I'm still a dwarf. I'm a hundred and fifty seven centimeters long, but only cause I got in zero G soon enough and pretty much stay here. Otherwise, I'd be shrinking every time I had a little fracture. When Dr. Ames was in here and the Tongan lady left after paying, he gave me this long warbling whistle and said, ‘Well, are you going to ask her out?' I said ‘What are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?" He said "Jim, the lady begged you to tell her where you go to eat and leaned across the counter smiling and batting her lovely eye lashes at you and told you her life history." He imitated her voice with a husky, - "Hi I'm Peggy. Who are you? You cute little fellow you." – 'You ignored her hitting on you about as hard as she could without risking prosecution for sexual harassment and you were a crab with her. That was your cue to ask her to dinner foolish boy. I may be able to do something about your bone density, but I don't know where to start to work on the other density," he said - tapping his head. "I told him if she likes dwarfs she must be some kind of pervert. He said that may be, but if she had a thing for bald guys, he would accept that from a happy Polynesian goddess and not examine it too closely. It was very confusing," he concluded.
"Jim, you are about six inches shorter than me."
"Yeah?" he said.
"If I wanted to date somebody six inches taller than me, it wouldn't matter at all. So why would six inches shorter bother me? But it don't matter because your just a little too old for me, to feel comfortable dating and some spark just isn't there. But it isn't for most of the guys I meet, so that doesn't mean anything. I'm just not ready to date anyone I know. But I'm with Dr. Ames. It looks a little like you are determined not to be happy. Give it a chance, OK?"
He just nodded, like he still couldn't believe it.
"Is it time to go yet?" Easy called from the hatch.
"There's nobody in the slot after you, play over if you want, since I held you up."
"Thanks Jim." She shot for the door like she had jets.
"What color walls you want?" he asked surly.
"Black."
His eyes got big. "It's a black ball. How you going to see it? Can you even set it black?"
"Court set walls black," she commanded.
In about a half second they faded into deep black. Easy actually let out a soft moan. He held the ball up and for the first time ever they realized the ball was really dark gray. They'd never seen it, except against a bright surface.
"Uh, that's too Gothic," he admitted. "It gives me the willies. It's hard to see the corners even. It just kinda goes out forever after the serve line, like being in an open lock with no suit on." That was not an mental picture that appealed to a vacuum rat.
"So maybe you are rattled enough to tell me why you're mad at me?"
"Oh that! That's no trouble at all. I'm steamed, ‘cause you risked your sweet little buns being a hero and playing fair, with those slime ball Security Goons. Do you have any idea at all how it would tear our hearts out to sit in our living room and see you get shot because you were even stupider than an Earthie who can't figure out which end of his pistol to grab? Flipping over like a trapeze artist, so he has a chance to shoot you in the back while you're turned away?"
"Oh, you saw that?"
"Did I see it?" he asked incredulous. "It was on BBC and licensed to just about everyone by National Geographic, for the whole next day. It wasn't viral, it was an information pandemic. There may be a Mongol shepherd somewhere in the Gobi desert, who had a busted pocket com, so he didn't see it, but I wouldn't bet on it."
"So, Easy do you think then, my face might be fairly well known on Earth?" she asked innocently.
"Why?" he asked, with deep suspicion.
"Well, I was thinking of taking a little Earthie vacation," she said softly.
He started to say something and words failed him. "Court walls pink," he commanded.
"Anger management color?" she asked.
He nodded yes, mute. Drinking in the calming color.
"Court, top wall yellow," she said
He managed a begrudging smile at that.
"Court, bottom wall bright purple," he added. He seemed pleased with it.
"Court, right wall tartan plaid," she raised him. Surprisingly, the computer knew it.
Going for the win he said, "Court, left wall green with orange Polka Dots."
"How big?" the computer finally broke down at the lunacy.
"Fifty millimeters with double spacing," he demanded. It was made so. Only the two small end walls were still pink.
"Court, enter hatch wall black," he said to finish it off.
"Your serve," he invited, "five wall, corner pops played."
They played into the next period as Jim had invited and came out friends still. When they came out the players for the following time were there early, so Jim let them go in. They were about to leave, when the couple stuck their heads back out the hatch to stare at them. Public rudeness was rare in Home, but the man looked hard at them and said, "You are some sick people," before ducking back in.
Jim was embarrassed and surprised. "What was that all about?"
"After they go, tell the Court to restore to the previous color scheme and check it out," Easy instructed him. He was sorry he wouldn't be there to see his face.
Supper went smoother. Finally over dessert, with everyone sated she eased back to the problem. "You know I appreciate what you were saying about my tactics over on NLV, but I don't have any formal training. I've really just been kind of winging it. I was talking to Jon about that and he has nowhere to train his people either. I have projectile guns I have never shot. We need some training programs. If you can figure out how to do them, with the cubic we have, everybody will be grateful to you." She explained how they would probably have lunar property to train on eventually also.
"Jon needs police training and the militia needs military training. What kind, depends on what kind of doctrine they intend to pursue. For example, if we are never going to put a force on the Earth's surface, no point in training for it. Even the civilians need access to some sort of training, if everybody is gonna run around carrying. I can train for special forces and small unit insertion. You need somebody more like Margaret, for more conventional forces. Our space weapons and tactics are unlike anything made before so we'll have to make those up from scratch. There's no substitute for live weapons training, but if you want, I think we can set up a live fire exercise monthly, if we use wax bullets and goggles."
"I feel that's better than laser simulation. You feel something hitting you, not just hear a buzzer and you don't believe they really got you. We just have to get cooperation from the cubic owners and do it the best shift and time for them. I'd like you to run through basically a combat handgun course, before you go Earthside. And I seriously recommend you get used to wearing a fancy armor vest as part of your outfit, anytime you go out on the street down there. We can have cooling beads on it so it's comfortable. You will go armed won't you?"
"Oh yes. That's why I'm going, among other things. We want to utilize the terms of their surrender down there a little, under their noses, because they seem to be forgetting they lost."
When she got up to leave, she handed Easy two small black rectangles. "What's this? Memory?" he asked turning it looking for marks or contacts.
"A present. Jeff is making these and they will be on the market in about three months. You wear one inside your suit and one outside. The one inside absorbs all the stink. Next shift you switch them and the fresh one cleans your suit, while the used one bleeds all the stink off to vacuum. I begged him for one of the prototypes for you," April admitted. "Just hold it against a surface and it grips. Jeff says it holds on like a bug unless you grab both sides to lift it off."
"How does he come up with all this stuff?" Easy marveled.
"What's really irritating, is if you ask him he'll say," – "It was obvious."
Chapter 15
As far as the eye could see were pine trees. They covered the rolling hills packed tight. One of them had a mast added, not very noticeable, just the stripped shaft of a small sapling, that was lashed to the trunk of the bigger tree as far up as a man could safely climb. About where a lumberjack would top a tree off before bringing it down. On the end was taped a small module, which could watch almost half the sky. It was made to see the special coherent light from a laser, even against the background of the bright sky. But when the message came it was on a dark moonless night, when one of the many man-made stars racing across the sky flickered for a moment in intensity.
A mile away you would have seen nothing, but the pine and its brethren on that one hill were bathed in its faint illumination. Much later after the moon had risen and the noise of the early night had faded, a figure moved silently through the pines, stopping often to check in the deep shadows with some instrument he raised to his eyes. Of all the seemingly identical trees he went unerringly to the one with the sensor and dug in the pine needles at its base.
The common com pad he pulled out was in a plastic bag, not because it would be damaged by the soil or some rain filtering down. But just because he was fussy and neat. When he saw there was a message, he traded the memory for a blank and replaced it under the forest floor carefully leaving no sign.
"Well we told ‘em." April said needlessly, after watching her grandpa transmit their acknowledgment. "Now we'll see if they make one of the rendezvous."
Chapter 16
April wasn't miserable. She was stiff and a bit sniffly and tired which was unusual for her, early in the morning. But it really wasn't so bad. She had been inoculated Monday and spent Tuesday doing normal things but yesterday, Wednesday, she had holed up in her room, because she might be contagious before the symptoms showed. Before she went to sleep last night, she thought she might have felt something. Just a funny feeling in the back of her nose. But when she woke up this morning there was no doubt, even before she opened her eyes.
What was really miserable was feeling trapped. She had a cooler with drinks and some sandwiches and had lugged the microwave in from the kitchenette. She didn't want to roam around out in the house, even if nobody else was home, for fear of leaving a hot spot on a knob or handle, waiting to infect someone. She still had a little appetite even though she was sick and thought about heating up a couple breakfast sandwiches. It seemed like a big effort and then one of the few things she had to look forward to today would be gone. Her pad dinged lightly and she answered it, to find it was Heather, with Jeff hanging behind her as usual.
"How are you feeling?" she wanted to know.
"I don't feel real good. Just want to lay still. Nothing I can't deal with and no worse than I've caught by accident before."
"Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Nah. I have some sandwiches here, but haven't bothered yet. I will," she promised.
"Good. We just came from the cafeteria and have breakfast for all three of us. We'd like to visit and share it with you."
"But what about Jerry's rights to this, you were so concerned about?"
"We saw him going in the cafeteria and he asked us how many we had for who you wanted the mod and he was real happy with six. Jeff spoke up and said he wanted me counted as his family though and he wouldn't have to inoculate me separately. He just wanted a free ticket if I caught it from him. So he agreed on the spot to the deal and said we could tell you, if we were coming to see you. After he agreed, I said I would sweeten the pot for including me and give him a parcel of Lunar land as soon as we start surveying them out. I don't think he was sure I wasn't kidding him, but I told him I'd give him a plot next to the land for the University. I think that made it real for him. So we're legal. We won't be cheating anybody, if you're up to seeing us."
"Come on." she invited, surprised. She thought that a bigger deal with Jerry was dead, since it didn't happen right away. "I'll let you in from here. I'm staying out of the house, so just come on through."
They must have been half way from the cafeteria, because they were calling at the door in no time. In the last year she had entertained more guests than ever before, but none had ever seen her room. When they came in April got a sheet and folded it in half to put on the floor as a picnic spread. Jeff laid it out from the thermo-pak, as he had done at their first council of war, over a year ago at his family's apartment.
It filled almost all the open floor, but Jeff still commented on how big the room was. She couldn't work up any guilt about it today. They had raspberry pancakes, with a separate container of whipped cream and scrambled eggs with potatoes and bacon pieces scrambled right in. Jeff brought a separate carafe of coffee, that wasn't the sort you got from the cafeteria. As soon as she smelled it she knew it was the good stuff instead. She was full and sitting sipping her coffee and the next thing she knew her eyes were closed. The only thing interrupting her slide into sleep was Heather, taking the cup out of her hand before she dropped it.
"You need to lie back down," Heather said and they took an arm from each side and took her back to bed. When they eased her down instead of leaving, they laid on each side, crowded close to fit on the narrow bed. She didn't know what to say. They each had a leg thrown over hers and an arm crossed from each side at her waist hemming her in tightly. It felt so good squeezed between them she didn't want to object. Heather buried her nose in her ear and Jeff leaned over and said, "Let's have some of that virus." He kissed her gently on the lips and played at the corner of her mouth with his tongue. Not gross, but enough to be sure he was infected.
He rubbed gently nose to nose and touched his finger to her lips and rubbed around his eyes. She was embarrassed to feel his arousal against her leg. She was about to object she couldn't get intimate with them, when Heather leaned over and kissed her on the lips too. She was relieved to find it wasn't as exciting as Jeff, but it was strangely sweet. Very sweet. "I really love both of you but I don't think I fly that way," she explained to Heather. "And I can't be intimate with you two. I haven't done that before, I haven't any protection, I'm not ready and I feel too crappy to even want to put forth the effort just now."
"I'm not hard wired for girls either," Heather assured her. "That was just simple honest affection, not lust. Well, with Jeff I'm sure it's some lust too. You know guys, they have enough lust to share extra all around, but he'll limit expressing it today or I'll kill him. I'm sure there's some thoughtful affection mixed in there too," she gave him a stern look, not to contradict her. "We've known for awhile we love each other and we love you too. Seems there's a serious stage beyond infatuation, no anti-bonding drug inhibits. But then our bonding is by no means superficial. It was slow coming. Just go ahead and sleep. You can hardly keep your eyes open. We'll stay right here and we won't do anything to hurt you. Never will, I promise," she said.
"You guys will have to isolate in a couple days you know," she suddenly worried.
"Yes, we realize that. Relax."
"I haven't even had a shower. I must be all stinko."
"You smell just fine," Jeff said in her ear. "Sleep a little bit and when you are awake again, we'll take you in and scrub you down squeaky clean, until you squeal for mercy," he promised.
"I don't think we'll all fit," she objected before she drifted off, remembering her tiny shower. She was surprised to find she was wrong.
Chapter 17
Jeff proudly showed his step mom the new use he had found for the quantum superconductor fluid she discovered. She was impressed and said they'd have to come to a balance how the effect would be utilized by their separate companies.
"You haven't made it produce a gravitational repulsion?" she asked.
"No. I have serious doubts you can do that in this universe. I have an idea, but it gets a bit beyond what we know, about how things work right now," he allowed.
"Hmm… Yes, better to let that problem go for a few weeks and pursue the more obvious uses." That was her idea of droll humor.
"We still can use attraction, to neutralize the effects of excess acceleration on the crew, in vessels. We just suspend a few attractive units ahead of the crew and pull them foreword against the acceleration. It will put extra strain on the frame and we'll have to worry about tidal effects, but it's doable. Then there is gravitational fusion. But I wondered what else you would see as a practical application.?"
"Well there are a few you've probably already thought of and are too polite to mention," she said. The scary thing was she seemed to mean it. He hadn't given any thought to other uses and didn't especially want to say so.
"No, please. I don't want to contaminate the process, by trying to lead you. What do you see? You're better at practical application than me," he admitted.
"I suppose if it were efficient enough, you could use it as a drive throwing matter off your stern with it. This device means we'll be able to send probes way down into Jupiter and other gas giants. The kids here won't have to stay in the outer rings when they're growing up, because you can install these in your floor and just dial the gravity up, the same as the lights."
"So I'd say low G cubic is suddenly going to be a lot more valuable. I'd buy some up if any is on the market. The next station built they might not even bother to spin it up. This certainly lets you build it in a lot different shape than a ring if you want. I can picture a plane of them and both sides would be a floor. I suppose that an intense field, would be much more efficient at separating isotopes than a conventional centrifuge too." She thought about it a bit. "You know how a superconductor excludes a magnetic field?"
"Yes," he assured her.
"Well, you have this sample to play with now and I'll send you some more when I can. I'd really appreciate it if you'd do two things. Make a sphere of the material and check the gravitational intensity inside the sphere. Put a mass enclosed and see how much force it takes to accelerate it. And make a wide flat disk and check the gravitational field on one face, with the field from the other side. I don't mean against the acceleration we experience in a station ring either. I think for the first time there may not be equivalence."
She saw how he looked at that. "Humor me," she asked him. "You don't think relativity is holy writ do you? You can't risk sending any of this material down to Earth, so I guess you'll have to send the experiment down to Luna. You said Heather wanted to ship some things to Luna soon anyway. Do you think you could send a lab in a box and work it remotely?"
"I can do better than that," Jeff offered. "I will probably go to the Moon for a few days myself, to help Heather. Happy Lewis is going too.
"You know what else?" she continued. "If you do away with the center shaft and rotate the ring with a hole in the middle, it sucks in from both sides. We'll have to see if there is any lateral force in the middle, or if a fluid is free to expand in the plane of rotation when it gets in there. But I'd say you could suck hydrogen, or any other gas in there and if the gravity is strong enough you can store it, at such a pressure it will probably be quite compact. Especially if it goes to the metallic state. The trick there would actually be to cool it sufficiently, to avoid heating it in compression to fusion."
"That would take a tremendous field," he pointed out, but it sounded good.
"Oh, if you have a tremendous field, you might be able to create degenerate matter. After all it's just gravity that creates a neutron star."
Jeff asked then, "You think fusion is likely feasible?"
"Well, if you had some way to pump heat into a mass in the center of your gravitational well there, you probably could ignite a fusion reaction. Of course just infalling and compression will help," she reminded him.
"What if I had a cone of fusibles on each side," he asked, sketching it on the screen, "and when I spin up the torus it sucks each side into a very small volume in the middle," he illustrated by shading a small volume, "then I detonate one of our storage modules on each side, to compress this pill of condensed fusibles trapped in the center of the torus."
Nam-Kha looked startled. "You might even have secondary fusion reactions proceed to carbon or beyond, that would significantly boost yield.
"I need take this to hardware as soon as possible. I'm letting contracts for reentry buses based on what it will mass. And I need to tell you more about what's happening with Heather's Lunar project too, Mum and a few other little gadgets I'm working on. How about if we go get some lunch and I'll bring you up to speed on that project?"
Chapter 18
April had a work suit helmet on, with a full flat wrap-around face plate, diamond on nano-matrix sapphire, but no pressure suit. Besides that they all had bullet proof vests with high collars and gloves. There was a sort of cod piece and if you wanted them, a plate that went over the upper leg. Those were all too big, so April skipped them. The bullets they had come up with were about as nasty to be hit with as the rubber riot control bullets that were in use on Earth for some time. They were hard green wax for investment casting, with a fiber wad on the back. They would have liked something that recoiled more, but they decided just shooting a few real rounds into a bullet trap in the corridor would have to do. The businesses on the corridor had agreed to let them use it on the last half of the back shift. One fellow, with quite a bit of warehouse space, had agreed to let them move everything against one wall and use the space for a team against team workshop. They'd just have to pay a small fee, for the robot inventory system to stack everything twice, which would mean about a six hour delay in some of his shipments and any breakage they caused. The one non-negotiable demand was he be included in one of the teams.
Since he was an ex-paint ball and combat games fanatic on Earth before he came up, April suspected that Jon could have made him pay, instead of the other way around. Harry, the business owner, was as excited as a kid going to a carnival for the first time. It was obvious from the amount of cubic he owned that he was pretty wealthy too. So Heather marked him as a perfect potential Lunar land owner.
She approached him from the angle that he was so very nice to allow their session, but explained she was going to donate a large tract of land in her development to public safety, so they would have a place Moonside to go play pretty soon. She let him know it would be big enough for not only a range, but even for the militia to play war games with heavy weapons. By the time she finished he was practically salivating. She left it at that so he could talk himself into needing a ranch himself. Probably handy to the public range.
The exercises were very instructive for April. She found out she didn't like big guns that recoil hard. Even the 9mm was a bit more than she wanted to hold onto. Especially given that LET was retarding her growth and that meant her hands would be small for years to come. The hypervelocity 3mm they had liberated the previous year from a Chinese fellow was more to her taste if she wanted a projectile weapon. Easy pointed out, tongue in cheek, that if she stepped up to a 14mm it was recoilless. But that was too much gun to carry around in pressure. They couldn't even shoot one into their bullet trap. It would punch holes through for sure. Her laser looked better all the time.
They ran scenarios team against team in groups of four, switching the mix of teams too. Jerry and his team of gene altered customers had rattled the opposition at first with their speed, but Easy and Margaret quickly devised strategies to overcome their advantage, if both parties were not out in the open exposed. In a fixed defense or ambush they could be defeated, if at a price.
The first time Jerry did an intrusion on a group defending a room, he had entered the door with a high rolling jump in the air and shot eight rounds so fast it had sounded like a burst from a machine gun. They had each absorbed two lethally placed hits before he hit the floor.
The next entry he did was with a group that had Easy, who had been one of the previous defenders and forewarned. He placed Harry two meters in front of the door, blocking the way with a flash bang in each hand. The timers were set to a tenth second and he instructed him to hold them away from his body on each side and hold them with the initiator button depressed. As soon as he saw any movement at all at the door, he should release them. "Don't think, don't watch and decide, just drop ‘em fast and they'd fall far enough to avoid burning your fingers."
"What then?" Harry asked all eager. "Do you want me to go for my pistol or what?"
"Be my guest," Easy laughed. "He's going to be surprised at finding you forward in his face when he comes in and confused that you don't have a pistol out. He's going to shoot you about three times as much as he needs to, because the rest of us will be under cover and are not even going to be visible until we see the flash and come out. And then, after he is blinded and his ammo depleted, we're going to pop up and finish him off. The only one we'll lose is you. But don't worry, in real life I'd put you in for a nice posthumous medal."
"I'm a target? You're sacrificing me to deplete his ammo?"
"And to blind him, you grasp the strategy quickly. If I were doing it in real life I'd use fragmentation grenades and set the timer for zero. That way I'd know we'd bag the sucker. Why chance wasting the effort, when you know you are going to get potted anyway? But even though you're wasting a tenth second, we'll bag him. Watch if we don't."
"Where did you learn tactics like this?" Harry wanted to know, appalled.
"Officer's training school. Where else? Do you want me to go all noble and lose all four of us again, or do what works?"
It went exactly as Easy promised. After, Harry was a little euphoric and punchy, with the shock of experiencing death vicariously. Jerry had come in low this time, sliding along the floor. Harry's vest and face plate were covered with-splatters and ricochets of wax. The slowed down video showed that Jerry, sliding by on his side with a pistol in each hand, shot Harry four times before the flash bangs went off. Then blinded, he shot eleven more times from memory, all head shots but only three of them connected. As he explained at the re-cap, he was angry at being tricked and wanted to kill him for sure. The other three popped up from behind cover and waxed him in a solid mass of green splatters when he slid to a stop, blinded and empty.
Chapter 19
The next morning April had breakfast with Margaret and was still rehashing the bouts. In came Eddie who had never joined her for breakfast despite a standing invitation. She liked him just fine, but Eddie had always seemed to like his privacy and remained distant. But this morning he marched right up and asked to join them.
When they came back last year from rescuing the Doctors Singh, he had suddenly had a fortune and never explained how. In fact, it was enough he had to quit security to manage it properly. Jon made clear that had bothered Eddie badly. He still pledged he was on call for emergencies. She found out last week, rescuing Don Adams, that he could afford to give him ten million Euro in gratitude without hurting himself. If the security goons had not revealed that she would never have known an exact number. He had gotten them all together to send a group picture of the crew of the Happy Lewis to the man, but hadn't revealed what sort of reward he was sending. Now he was willing to spend twice that, to try to defuse the way Home - USNA relations were headed. She suddenly realized she was going on a third rescue mission. It was getting to be a habit.
"April," he said putting his tray down. "I understand you have accepted the challenge, to go down and tweak the giant's nose for us."
He was one of those guys who ate right off his tray, without setting stuff off on the table.
"Yeah, I agreed. I appreciate your funding it so heavily."
He waved that off as inconsequential. "It will benefit me in the end. I have been trying to convert assets to cash equivalents and commodities, but the system isn't designed to do that. What good are futures, if people stop producing the commodity? And physical delivery is impossible. Where could I store anything I'd buy? If it's in North America It can be seized and if I spend money to ship it up here it may be vaporized. If we resume hostilities I'll lose big regardless of what I do. I'm shifting wealth to Asia and Europe, but everything is so interconnected now it doesn't matter. If America is hurt worse, the world economy will be trashed for years. And have you given any thought what will happen elsewhere in the world if America goes down?"
"No, I have been so concerned with what will happen to Home I haven't spent any time worrying about anyone else."
"Well the areas dominated by North America will unravel. The Pan Arabic Protectorate is just the most worrisome of them. There's no predicting how that region would shake out, or how long it would take. War between Korea as a Chinese puppet and Japan is not unlikely without the USNA defending Japan. And as their interception of the missiles aimed at us showed, I don't think their neighbors really know what they would be biting off in that case. Not to mention the Chinese could be sucked into that one real easily, if it goes bad for Korea early. Without the stability the USNA created even Antarctica may be destabilized. The Argentines and Australians both want to open it up commercially. Quite a few others will object. It can get complicated down there. But that's not what I stopped to talk to you about," he admitted.
"OK. The explanation is appreciated though. What did you want to tell me?"
"If you go down to North America and somebody finds out I helped finance it, you may be confronted with some ugly gossip about me and my family. I just wanted to be straight with you. My family are not exactly model citizens. I swear to you, I have never involved myself in their affairs, but guilt by association is common down there. It even lands you in prison now, if you have family who are terrorists. Just because my uncles and cousins are bad, doesn't mean I'm tainted, but that's how a lot of folks will view it."
"Well that's stupid and I'd have no trouble telling them that, but you aren't being exactly clear what's so bad about all your kin."
"Not all of them, but a lot of them, are involved in organized crime. They're known as a crime family. Have you ever seen things in old movies about the Mafia? It used to be assumed they were Italian, if not Sicilian. But now people speak of the Russian Mafia and the Japanese Mafia. Even the Chinese Mafia. I guess every culture has their families of crime, but the Italians were the first to be recognized as such by the Americans and the they were kind of adopted as the standard for describing what they are in popular culture. The Mob, La Cosa Nostra. Wise Guys. Made Men. Some call it prejudice, but there was some truth to it. When I go home for Christmas dinner, it looks like the wanted poster gallery on the FBI site. They think it's funny I'm a cop. But I make sure I never have to discharge my duty where they operate."
"I sort of assumed that was all period stories. You know - historical. I saw the Godfather and some other vids, but I just assumed it's so hard to do business now, with every transaction being tracked, that it would just be impossible to have that kind of crime. It's not?"
"Honest. The more laws and regulations they make, the more ways there are to cheat and get around them. If you use your credit line to buy drugs or porn, or any other ugly thing, it will show on your statement as a repair to your ground car, or a new pair of shoes. And there are still lots of businesses that will take cash. Food vendors and small shops. The politicians will outlaw all cash transactions when they stop taking bribes."
"If the newsies drop that stuff on me, I'll ask them if they want to be judged on the crappiest member of their family I can find. That should cool their jets."
Eddie smiled. "You haven't asked me where I got all my money."
"I didn't figure it was any of my business."
"I'm going to tell you anyway. I've been thinking about it and I know how the reporters ask horrible prying questions. If you start having any doubts at all about me it will be disastrous to invite them to read your replies with verifying software. So I feel the need to tell you what happened so you'll know."
"Fine, if you think you need to. I can't promise I'll never doubt you, but I've trusted you with my life, fighting beside me. I think you're a pretty square shooter. Especially with Russian antitank missiles," she said, reminding him of an ambush they conducted a year ago.
"Well, the way Easy told me the second one would be launched where my proctologist could never reach it if I missed was a real inspiration. Makes you focus. But about the money. I had a friend spoofing my presence on New Las Vegas when I went to help the Singhs, so nobody would know I was on a mission to ISSII. He was to keep a low profile, but he dropped a hundred EuroMark chip in the Big Shot slot and won fifty million EM."
Margaret, who had been silent, started laughing. Eddie just smiled at her. It was funny.
"What I would have given to see his face," she said, wiping the tears away.
"And then, when he had hidden in his room to avoid any more publicity, one of my dear uncles paid him a visit and wanted to know where I was. They figured he had bumped me off to take my credit card and he was very worried about his dear nipote."
Margaret just laughed even harder.
"Nipote?" April asked.
"Nephew. So they extracted the major part of the cash from him and delivered it to me while I was still in the middle of rescuing the Singhs. Left a baby-sitter behind with him. That's where I got my seed money. Jan, the head of security on ISSII that you met when you picked us up, really gave me the idea to invest the money with a view to riding the events we were generating. Knowing what would happen ahead of time, to make space based securities run up and down in price made it easy. Then after you pass a certain critical mass, I found it's hard not to make more money. It's been crazy."
"So these guys acted for you, just because you are family, even if you're a cop?"
"Blood's thicker than water, as they say."
"You should write a book about it. An autobiography."
Eddie just shook his head no, very seriously. "They watch out for me for now. That's the big taboo. You do not, not, not, talk about family. Maybe I could leave it to be published after I die. But I'd be too nervous, even knowing a copy was hidden away somewhere. The family lost a whole generation to electronic snooping at the start of the century and they have adapted real well. I don't want to try to keep secrets from them."
"Well, I believe you. Thanks for explaining. I'll handle it if it comes up. A question then. You are looking to invest away from North America. You probably would welcome a space based investment right?"
"Yes, but opportunities in space investments are very limited right now. There is little expansion going on because North America was doing the lion's share and we knocked their launch capacity right out. The remainder is hard pressed to keep all the inhabited stations supplied right now, without lifting major construction materials too. We're getting hammered with high prices trying to add a ring right now. We aren't going to see much space growth for a couple years," he predicted.
"The Rock will drop bulk material prices, but we still need the infrastructure for everything from fasteners to wire drawing. We have lots of job shop and quick prototype capacity, but not the really cheap dedicated manufacture for bulk stuff. And if we go to war with them again, it will put it off a decade."
April jumped right in and explained Heather's Lunar land development idea. "If you'd help her without taking it over I'd appreciate it. I know you could probably just out spend her and develop your own area and just not need her at all. But you have so much else to do anyway. She has the vision and you will get a decent return for your investment anyway. I just can't see anything but a huge return in the long run. It's like when the Americans went West, except we don't have to steal the land from anyone."
"I'd never do anything like that April. That's exactly what I was talking about. People are going to expect me to do the crooked thing because of my family, but I refuse. They make excuses that things would be worse, without the stability they create. Better organized crime, than anarchy supposedly. They say all the little guys would be having running gun battles in the streets if they didn't control the territories. But it's a lie. That's certainly not their motivation.
"But I'm not talking about anything illegal," April assured him. If you decided to go into the business yourself, it isn't ours to tell you not to."
"I disagree." Eddie said. "It was Heathers idea and she has put time and effort into it. I'd have never looked that direction as far as I know, for a long time. If I took the idea and ran with it now, I wouldn't be doing anything illegal, but it would be wrong. We are trying to get away from hollow meaningless laws on Home. I want to see us promote ethical behavior. So I'll talk to her and see how much help she wants. At the least I'll buy some lots. If she wants me to come in and help, fine. I'll probably do it if I agree with what you've said."
"Thanks. I was worried, because I'll be away and can't help."
"That brings up another problem I've been avoiding," Eddie said. "I'm building these two new ships. I'm trying to get squared away with your brother to have them operated. I thought we'd have about the same terms as we settled on for the Home Boy. But no. I'll be blunt. Your brother is as crooked as any of my relatives. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to find a way to avoid doing business with him. Now, it's you that holds the rights to use Jeff's devices in the ships. Would you consider starting your own freight or courier business and I'll just deal with you? Between my interest in the Home Boy and your interest in it and the Happy Lewis, we should be able to buy him out."
"That would be pretty hard. Just like you are talking about the lunar thing being Heather's baby, the courier business was Bob's idea. I came in as a junior partner at 49% ownership."
"I'm surprised he allowed you to get that much."
"Well, he tried to satisfy me with 30%," April admitted. "I won't let him cheat me just because I'm family."
"OK, he had the idea. But he was going to make a regular courier service, like about a dozen others that fly under various flags. He just had a conventional scooter. You brought along the license rights to the power plant and weaponry, that made it unique. I see it as your business for that reason. If he wanted to buy you out right now, what would happen?
"He probably couldn't come up with the cash. But if he did he wouldn't be able to keep using Jeff's modules, so he'd have to revert to conventional motors and he'd lose his competitive advantage."
"So you wouldn't license him free," he said, nodding, happy to have that point clear. "Have the other courier companies without Singh tech gone out of business?" Eddie asked her.
"Uh, that's a point. No, they just shifted their business a little lower on the feeding order and we got the more time and security critical work. There still are not enough of us for the market. We are only two ships right now after all."
"And what would happen if you bought him out?"
"I don't have the cash. But if I did nothing much would change."
"So if you owned it, would you keep him on as manager given the choice?"
"No. I don't know who I'd get. But I don't have an interest in the details of business, to want to run it myself. I do know he and I have a different styles, so he'd go. He has other businesses he can pursue and he always could think of three new ones on any given day."
"I've been trying to finalize a contract with him, to run my new shuttles. Do you have a document that describes your ownership and Heather's ownership, in Jeff's company?"
"Yeah. I didn't know that you knew, that's what we had set up. Maybe a dozen people do."
"More than that. You'd be surprised. But how many pages is the document?"
"It's about a three letter size pages. Not too complicated."
"Here, I want you to look at the last contract I was offered from your brother. This is the one we've been stuck on, for over a week, because I won't sign it and he won't revise it." He offered his pad to beam it over. She received it and glanced at the properties. It was over three hundred pages long.
"I don't even have time to read this," she said indignant. "Why in the world is it that big?"
"Because he is doing business now like Earthies. He had it drafted by lawyers and I doubt if he has read it himself. It basically says if any money is made it's his. And if any expenses occur they're mine. I assume all risk to third parties, for the actions of his employees on my vessels. That's the high points. But I can't do business like that. I don't have time to read it either and I won't have some lawyer read it and tell me what he thinks it says. Basically it tells me by its nature, that if we ever have a problem to work out I can't expect him to treat me right. It's a license to try to weasel out of any responsibility."
"This is horrible. I had no idea. I want to look through this tonight. I don't have time to read it word for word, but if I can just satisfy myself what it's about I will talk to Bob and explain I can't be party to doing business this way."
"Don't be shocked if he's unyielding. That's how he's been with me. Frankly, if you don't let him do things his way I think he'll tell you to buy him out, if you want to run it different."
"If he did it would just be sarcasm, because he knows neither of us has the cash to buy the other out. I mean – I have the money you guys gave me to go Earthside, but that would be wrong to use a chunk of it for that. You didn't have that use in mind when you gave it and it would be wrong to misuse it."
"So how easy ethics are for decent people? But I'm offering you the cash right now."
"On what terms?" April said, shocked. She had no idea this was where they were headed. "I don't know what kind of payments I can manage for sure. Or do you want to come in as a partner yourself?"
"It doesn't matter. I'd accept any terms you wanted to offer, because I need the new ships ran and I'd have to walk away from them and scrap them out, rather than deal with your brother. And I'd do that for spite rather than sell them. I'm convinced I'll lose all control of them later anyway, if I have to deal with him. He's setting me up to rip me off."
"I'm looking at how we have to do business now, with life extension and we're going to need long term stable relationships, with give and take. If you wanted to give me any percentage of the company for the cash, I'd still be ahead of walking away and abandoning the whole thing, no matter what I got. Name your own terms. How much do you need to buy him out?"
April thought about it. "Ignoring my licenses, we have about a million and a half each in the scooter which was a scrap out. And refitting it. We got over a half million from Jon's rainy day fund, to finish it out and accelerate refitting, so he could use it to recover Dr. Singh. I am not obligated to repay that, but I intend to. That's over three million USNA dollars right at the start."
"We've spent maybe another three million out of revenues, to modernize and upgrade over the last year. We plowed a lot back in to it, rather than cash out. The company has some value because of the customers and contracts also, but he'd lose some of them if he loses the Singh technology and can't boost as fast and cheap. All together, I'd say his fifty-five percent is worth no more than about four million, without the licensing rights. It's not that I'd never share them. It's always been that Jeff offered them to me alone as an individual and was careful never to offer them to the company."
"Maybe Jeff's even smarter than you think." Eddie suggested.
"You are right about one thing you are suggesting. Bob is selfish. I don't even remember when he started getting that way. He is so greedy now he'd like my folks to cut him off a private cubic, even though it would just ruin their apartment. I'd like a private place too, but I see myself buying one in a few more years, instead of mooching off my parents. I'm afraid if I do offer to buy him out, he'll name some silly big number, based on his vision for the company still keeping my licenses."
"You'll never know if you don't try. If he does just walk away and let him have the whole thing. Your licensing rights are what has real value at this point. The Home Boy is mine, but it too only has special value with your licensing rights. Being part of the company with contracts has little value in an underserved market, so all we are really talking about is the value in the Easy Lewis. It wouldn't cost me much more to build you a new ship, than to buy Bob out. If he wants to keep it and put conventional motors back in fine. I'll make the same offer to go into business with me, as buying him out. Name your own terms and I'll abide by them as long as you bring the Singh licensing rights and I'll build you a replacement ship, as well as the two under construction. We'd have a four ship shop. Past that we'd have to talk again."
"I'm going to skim through this tonight," April said. "If I agree it's as bad as you say and it's for damn sure too big, I'll give Bob a chance to do what's right. If he won't I'll offer to buy him out. I said four million. A million is no big deal to you. If he wants six million I'll buy him out. If he wants more than six I'll walk away and let him have it and bring the Singh rights to my own new company."
"I'll allow you whatever percentage it takes, to make you actually help run the company, not just fund it, because I don't want to do paperwork and hustle up customers. If you want to put your man in to do that OK, I know you just got into this to have a war ship and you have lots of other demands now, but you're still personally responsible. And whatever minority percentage I have after yours, is paid consideration for my Singh license for up to four vessels. That will fit on one sheet of paper, so write it up if you want tonight. We may need it tomorrow." She let out a huge sigh. Having to deal with this, on top of the stress of going down Earthside was stressful.
"Sounds good. I can do business with you like this. If I have to fully fund a new company, I want an eighty percent stake to start. If you decide if you want to grow from twenty percent into equal partners fine. If you want to own it eventually, I can live with that option too. Your right, for me it's just a way to own a war ship, but it has to pay for itself. I know I'll make good money along the way and you aren't going to try to cut me out early on the cheap."
"Here is an account number," he said getting his pad, "and a password. I'll have the equivalent of six million USNA dollars in the account in a few hours. EM are more steady right now. I suggest you leave it in EM. Take it. If he takes your offer, just beam it right to him then."
April accepted the numbers on her pad under her own password. Then they reached and touched hands briefly, fingertip to palms.
Chapter 20
April was not happy after she read several sections of the contract. Some sections she went over two or three times. Even read them aloud, which she never did. She wasn't slow. She read complicated material all the time with no problem. But even going online to some legal help sites and searching the terms, she had no idea what some of the expressions in the contract meant. The more she examined it, the more she was convinced that's the way it was meant to be. It was weasel worded and slippery, to the point one could argue later in court it meant anything. She thought Eddie was right. Bob was setting him up for a fall. If Bob only understood Eddie had relatives, who would cheerfully fit him for a set of concrete boots and take him for a night cruise, he'd rethink the wisdom of this, but she didn't feel free to explain that to him. She had looked up a little more than what Eddie had told her, about organized crime. It was chilling reading. She remembered they helped Eddie without him actually asking. That was scary.
April asked Bob to meet her for breakfast, because they were already so far apart on this, she didn't want to meet privately at home, where he could get angry and yell at her. It was a shame to feel that way, but she was determined to avoid a big ugly confrontation. They rarely met at home anymore anyway. He seemed to come in late now and by the time he got up in the morning she was gone. He asked for a ten o'clock meeting, which was still early for him, but late for her.
When he did come in he was dragging. She realized she didn't know what her brother did when he was out late every night. There certainly wasn't any big night life on Home to go carouse. There was usually some activity at the construction gang's cafeteria late at night. But there were no real night clubs or bars. He never seemed intoxicated or high, but whatever it was sure seemed to wear him out. If he got a late start on the day, she had to admit he worked late too and got a lot done.
She arrived before Bob. He hadn't been evident at home. His door was still shut and she didn't really even know if he was in there and it seemed intrusive to ask the house. She went ahead and got her breakfast and figured on taking her time with it. Jerry was sitting to the back, but she just waved at him and sat away. She felt funny doing that, but what she had to say to Bob wasn't to share. She ate slowly, not enjoying it as much as she should. When he came in she was mostly done, but maybe that would work out. He would be eating and would let her talk. When he did sit down opposite though, he only had a bagel and cream cheese with black coffee.
"Good morning Bob. Thanks for meeting me. I know we run on a little different clock." He still looked sleepy eyed.
"It's OK. I have a lot to do. It'll be good to get a start. What's up? You got something going on?"
"Yeah. I was talking with Eddie because I'm going to go Earthside and take a little vacation real soon. Gramps tell you about that at all?"
"No. You think you'll see Mom's folks? Going to Australia?"
"No. I'm going to North America. Political reasons really. We're trying to head off a problem with the election coming up. Everyone that might run, is against staying at peace with us to some degree."
"Boy, I wish you wouldn't go. I have my real doubts it's safe. I don't think it's safe for any of us. Walking around with a black card on, well, it might be OK on ISSII, or on New Las Vegas, but I'd sure hate to do it dirtside. The people hate us and it could get ugly."
"I'll have enough funds to be picky where I go and I'll go armed. I just really need to. But Eddie is concerned about the contract he's negotiating with you and I hoped to have that resolved before I leave, so I don't have to fret about it. He gave me a copy off his pad last night and when I looked it over, it was just way too complex to understand. Can't we do business a little simpler? I'd have a hard time signing that myself and that's a good way to look at a deal and see if it's fair. Ask if circumstances were reversed would you agree to it? I bet you wouldn't."
"I take that for a measure of how desperate he is, if he goes running to you about it," he said with a smile. "If he did that he doesn't know what else to do and he's close to signing it. Give him a few more days to sweat and he'll come around."
"I'm not sure desperate, is how we want our friends to feel about closing a business deal with us." She thought of Eddie's threat to scrap out the vessels. Bob didn't have it in him to believe that threat she realized. "I mean, Eddie is my comrade at arms. We fought together. I'd expect him to go out of his way to make sure I was treated well, if he were offering the deal to me. Why is a three hundred page contract I can't understand necessary?"
"When we were doing ten buck deals as kids it wasn't. But this company has the potential to grow to a huge commercial empire. I can see when people have stations on Mercury and out beyond Mars, fifty years from now, our line being the premier line for the whole system. We have to start covering ourselves, so in a few years these contracts don't come back to haunt us. That's why the lawyers write it to cover almost any imaginable contingency. We should survive changes of government, or unsettling changes of technology, like Jeff created. And no matter how attached you are to Eddie this is business. We may be on the same side politically, but from a business view but he's working for us."
April looked at him funny. "Actually, I thought we were working for him. He's building the new ships and we'll lease and operate them."
"Yes, but as long as we have the power to withhold his license to fly Singh technology, he's at our mercy to use them. If he won't come to terms, he'd have to sell the ships to whoever will work with us. That's the economic facts of life. They don't have anywhere near the value otherwise. Of course in the future, when we have better funding ourselves, we won't need Eddie. The logical thing would be to eventually own all our own vessels and terminate our relationship when we can do that. By then his vessels will be getting older and the ones we build will be newer. But he has plenty of time to make money and see the use of them before that happens. I'm sure he looks at reality and knows it's a temporary relationship, to take advantage of while he can."
"Yes, he intimated he saw it as having to end," she said factually, but seething inside. "And what would you do if he just said to hell with it, refused to fly the ships on your terms and scrapped them out, instead of selling them to somebody who would submit to you?"
"Nobody would do that. It would be an illogical decision. You do what makes money, not what serves your ego or temper, when you get to these amounts of money. When we started you wanted me to handle the business side of it. Just continue to leave it to me. I'm sure you know you don't have a head for business. In the dog eat dog business world, they'd just eat you up. The only big long term problem we have, is we are dependent on the Singhs for our power plants. Somewhere along the line, we have to get control of those essential technologies for our business."
April thought Bob underestimated how much Eddie would walk away from, rather than give Bob the satisfaction of managing him, but she didn't argue it. She asked a personally closer question, "And what about me?" April asked. "Aren't I a risk and inconvenience, because the license comes through me? How and when will you get rid of me, after Eddie and Jeff are disposed of as a danger to your full control?"
For the first time she thought she saw a flicker of shame. "I thought you knew, I'll always take care of family. When have I ever not?"
"Well if memory serves correctly, you wanted to limit me to thirty percent of this company, for supplying half the money. That's the way things have been tending in your offers for several years now. And it was not attractive at all the other day, when you wanted Mom and Dad to carve their apartment up, to give you a private place, as if it were your entitlement. No, I'm sorry Bob, but I don't trust you anymore. You've gotten greedy and controlling. It hurts to say, but we're going to each have to go our own way now. The only question is if I buy you out, or the other way around."
"Don't be silly," he said, still not seeing the seriousness of it. "You're getting weird and emotional, bringing Mom and Dad into it," he said, waving it away with a hand. "They have nothing to do with our business. We both put the major part of our cash in to start this and neither one of us has the cash to buy the other out. And I wouldn't consider selling my half, for any price that didn't reflect the huge upside the company will see in the next couple years. It may not have it in assets right now, but the work I've put into positioning the company is going to see a huge payout and I deserve fair compensation for what I set in motion."
"I see. And if I asked you to buy me out. What kind of offer would you make me?"
"Well," he had to think on that briefly. "You put in your funds to start and excluded yourself from having to deal with the stress and risk of executive decisions. I'm not saying that wasn't smart. It's a rare person that knows their own limitations. But the flying and managing freight, that's all work you can hire out to employees. So the small draw you've taken was ample compensation for that. The money you put in and the portion we reinvested - I'd say about three and a half million should cover it. And if you really do want out, I'll pay you a monthly allowance, until that amount is paid back and hire somebody so you don't have to fly anymore."
He obviously had no idea how demeaning his assessment was. There was no way she could work with him and Eddie both. And the casual insults in his offer, would have ended her partnership with Bob even without Eddie in the picture.
"And the licensing? I get no separate compensation for that?"
"You must not have ever thought it was worth that much, since you never brought it up and pressed to be paid more for it."
"Silly me," April agreed, cut to the core.
"But if you want the company to be here, to generate enough income to pay you out, then you're going to have to let the licensing stand. After you're paid out, if you want to get back together and talk about a fee then, we'll do it," he promised.
"I am overwhelmed by your largesse," April said, straight faced. "So you wouldn't be interested in the opposite deal?" She checked.
"That you pay me off? No. If you run it, I don't think it will survive long enough to generate the income for my payout anyway. And I'd want more than three and a half anyway."
April decided he'd just laugh at the four million figure she'd mentioned to Eddie. She decided she'd go straight to her best offer.
"I'll give you six million cash now, to buy you out. I can beam it to your pad right now and you'll walk away with it. No payments you have to worry about me coming up with, before the company folds from my incompetence." She had never realized before how little he thought of her. Why, to think she couldn't run a business just like him! Damn him! She just didn't want to. It stung so bad she had a hard time keeping tears from her eyes. She was choked up and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
"You can't have that kind of cash!" For the first time he was angry. "So who's funding you? Is it Eddie? Did he offer yesterday to bankroll you? He'll use you and dump you to the side, before you know what's happened," he declared.
"Well I guess that's what you have to expect, in the dog eat dog business world," she admitted sarcastically. It amazed her how easy he thought Eddie was as crooked as he was. But he'd have to think that, to excuse his own ruthlessness, wouldn't he?
"It isn't any concern of yours, where I get my money." She remembered the thirty million Euro her gramps beamed to her in the living room. "Actually, I had more than enough funds available, well before Eddie talked to me yesterday. You don't know everything about me Bob. As it stands now, all I really want is to hear if you will take the six to be bought out, or turn it down."
"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous!" Bob was starting to get loud, then seemed to realize it and looked around, so April was glad she came here. Truth was, she'd be afraid to be alone with him right now. That was terrible, to feel that way about her own brother. "That's unacceptable," he said, quieter. "I won't let you do it."
"Very well, You can't buy me out and won't let me buy you out. I would like to hang on to the Happy for sentimental reasons, but I'm realistic. It's going to be obsolete soon as a warship and second rate as a carrier, when the new ships reach service. I won't work with you anymore. So I'll walk away. In the morning I'll send you papers, yielding ownership to you. It's entirely your baby now. I'll serve notice to those we've been doing business with, that we are no longer partners and you are sole owner. It's nobody's business how or why that happened, so I'll just make it factual."
"What about the licensing?" He asked, finally seeing the danger. "Are you going to continue to license Singh power, for the Happy Lewis and the Home Boy?"
"You'll have to talk to me about that. I'm so mad at you right now, for the way you took me for granted and talked down to me, that I can't even discuss it with you. When I come back from Earth we'll talk about it. I'm going down late tomorrow, so it'll have to wait. Nothing will change for now, you still have your licensing. You said I must not have valued it enough, because I didn't use it to extract more money from you. Well you just educated me how silly that was. I went too easy on you because you were my brother and got ridiculed as weak for my kindness. We'll absolutely have to talk about it later," she said, not at all friendly, "But I'm done talking to you today."
April got up and left him sitting there. He didn't look angry now. He just looked confused, like he could not understand what just happen. He still hadn't eaten his bagel.
Chapter 21
The next day was made even more hectic, by having to create a document removing herself as a partner of Lewis Couriers, while getting ready to leave. She mailed everyone, all seventy-eight of them, in her business address book and then sent a copy to a hard print service and instructed them to send a certified paper copy requiring a receipt to Bob, Dave's shop that serviced her ship and Jeff and Heather. After some thought she added Jon and her parents and grandfather. She was sitting with gramps and Heather right now, so she had told them personally, that Bob and she were no longer partners. It appeared to be less of a surprise to her gramps than it had been to her. Heather actually said, "Good."
April looked at the small device her grandfather was holding, with real distaste. It was called a public eye. Physically it was a small square, about twenty-five millimeters on a side, with a simple pin on the back, like a brooch. In fact, it looked like it had a cabochon mounted to the front, but it wasn't a jewel, it was a camera lens. It took video and sound and streamed it off to safe storage, so a person had a seamless visual record of what happened to them all day. Heather was sitting with her gramps, letting him do the talking.
"I can understand why security people have to wear those on duty, but I can't imagine volunteering to destroy any shred of privacy I still have. People who wear these and post the record to their public journal so strangers can watch their family eating breakfast, have an exaggerated idea of their own importance. I'm surprised you'd ask me. I certainly never saw you wearing one before."
"I understand your objections. I've never felt I had need to wear one. You already agreed to let people run your public statements through software, which is really much more intrusive," he pointed out reasonably.
"Only if you plan to lie," she asserted.
Happy had to stop and think about that. "I hate to say this to you. But I honestly think it's the truth. And you can run my statement for analysis," he offered. "A lot of people, maybe most even, lie so often every day, about silly little things, that it really would be a burden to have their statements verified. They lie about how their wife or friends or workmates look. They are casually lie when asked if they are doing OK, when their life is in chaos. They get an assignment from their boss and lie about what they'll do with it."
"They cope with all these demands by saying, "Yes, Dear you look fine," when she looks like the wicked witch of the West. They say, "Oh good enough and you?" when they are thinking their marriage is breaking up and their kid is in detention for arson and they can't make the rent at the end of the month. And they are seething inside because the boss gives them some pointless assignment, that nobody will ever look at and they don't have time to do. But they lie about all of them, to keep from having even more trouble rain upon their heads for telling the truth. Because none of these people, who ask these kind of questions, want to hear the truth. The truth would be a disaster. So in a sense these people demand a lie of them, to avoid constant confrontation."
"If your family and friends don't demand these sort of lies from you, then you have unusually forthright friends," he assured her.
April realized, for the first time, that her mother was the only person she actively had to deceive, to keep the peace. She had to hide things she ate, like a carton of milk and she had to wear cloves and take precautions to satisfy her germ phobia. She wasn't going to volunteer that to anyone either.
"Now if they allow everyone to verify their every little statement, the machine won't tell them why the person is fudging the answer. But even for something as common as asking how someone is today, the software will show they were evading. So my even thinking you can afford to allow such scrutiny, is a measure of what a forthright honest person I think you are."
"But that's you. The camera you don't wear for your actions. It doesn't show you, unless you can be seen in a mirror, or a reflection in a window or something. No, the camera is for the other guy. And I can easily think you are going to run into some devious person down there, who will lie after the fact about what happened between you. With this pinned on, you can take that ability away from them."
April took it with just her fingertips, like it was dirty. "It'll work down there?" she demanded.
"There is wireless almost everywhere in urban areas. If it can't make a connection to stream the video off to safe storage, it buffers it to your com pad. I asked Heather to add extra memory to your pad and some other things. That's why she's sitting here, waiting to do that if you want it."
"How big a buffer before it's full?"
"It can store three days and then it goes back and compresses it and stretches it to six days at a little worse quality."
"OK," she said, getting her com pad out. "I can see the value of it, for the special circumstances. I don't plan to make a habit of it."
Heather got out her tools and went to work. When she was done she produced an extra case, April had assumed was more tools or materials and opened it up.
"You know Jeff and I trade ideas and hardware, with a bunch of friends on the Moon," she explained. "They are not unsympathetic to Home and to our success, but they are very limited and careful about how they express it. As soon as we knew you were going dirtside, we asked them if they had a number of items that might be of help to you and they couriered these to us." She pulled a vest out of the case, that seemed very much like the one she had adopted as a costume when she started wearing black. It was perhaps a little less stiff, but it looked too big also. Heather shook it open and laid it on the couch between them.
"I have it linked to my spex now to demonstrate, but I'll delete that link when you have it slaved to yours. Vest – cool inside twenty degrees from ambient and color white," she instructed
The vest faded to an eye dazzling pure white. "Vest, make the white look like snow." It became less glaring and slightly blue with little sparkles and a grainy look. “Feel inside," Heather invited her.
The interior was chill to her hand and seemed to be getting colder as she felt it. She had worn powered garments before, studded with nano gap cooling beads, but nothing that chilled this fast. "How many exterior colors can it do?" April asked impressed.
"It's not just a matter of color," Heather assured her. "Vest do, Swamp Grass,” and then in quick succession she called for Oak Forest, Scrub Pine and Urban Brick. "However this is the better way," she suggested and told the vest, "Blend to Environment."
Heather picked the vest up and shrugged it on. It creeped April out when the vest wiggled like a living thing and adjusted to Heather's size. "Adjust size," Heather instructed and grabbed the bottom edge at her hip and pulled it down to her knees. "It just whispered in my ear, that if I pull it any lower, it will not have as much ballistic protection," she told April. The vest had assumed the exact color of the wall covering behind her.
"That's amazing! That has to be some seriously advanced Nano," she insisted. "If it wasn't for your face you'd almost blend into the wall."
Heather didn't say anything – just grabbed the high collar and repeated the adjust size command. As she tugged, the collar grew into a hood and then she reached to her chin in front and blended it closed seamlessly in the front.
"Can you breathe OK? Can you even see me?" April worried.
"You’re a little foggy, but I can see OK to walk and it knows to stand off my face on the inside. See the roll of material around the arm opening? You can pull that down into a sleeve, but those are the limits of what it can cover. However we have something else here," she explained, taking the vest off and picking something else up from the case.
It looked like the sheerest pair of silk pajamas. Folded they were only about the size of her com pad. "This can do the same exterior colors and patterns and will keep you warm or cool, but it has very little ballistic protection. It will stop a knife thrust and small caliber pistol fire, but nothing like the vest. If the vest lets anything through, it would have killed you already. For example 20 or 40mm cannon fire, or a direct hit with a mortar will shove you so hard the blunt trauma will kill you, even if it doesn't bust through. But it's a lot better than any armor we had, to send you down in. You get two sets of the light stuff, just turn it inside out and don't wear one set for a day and it selfcleans."
"Jeff and I are really stretching our credit with these folks, so pay attention to this. If you have to abandon any of this Earthside, you tell it through your spex to self destruct. If that doesn't work, or your spex are gone, here's what you do." She opened the vest and pointed out a red dot, about the size of a one EuroMark coin inside and then produced a small square of thin material with a similar dot in the middle. "Give it a low power shot from your pistol," she instructed.
April pulled her pistol, turned it down to five percent power and held the trigger down for perhaps a second, muzzle just off the dot. For a second nothing happened and then a ripple spread from the dot as the fabric changed texture. As she watched it divided into small squares and seemed to bead up, like it had suddenly turn liquid. The droplets seemed to shimmer for a moment as they disappeared, like they were evaporating and then they were gone. April felt with her hand and there was a film of tiny slippery balls, that rolled easily between her fingers.
"That's freaky," she allowed.
Heather nodded agreement. "A match, or even a hand lens focusing sunlight on the red dot will suffice. Our friends don't want to share this with the Earthies just yet."
"Then we shouldn't take it Dirtside," April insisted, "because there is always the unforeseen, that would leave it in somebody's hands if I were killed or disabled."
"Maybe so, but after all the trouble we went to – please take them," Heather implored her. "Modesty is nice and all, but you mean more to us than perhaps you realize."
"Thank you," was all April said, embarrassed at her depth of feeling.
"This is from Jeff," Heather laid a case between them, a little narrower and longer than a com case. When she touched the pads at opposite corners it unfolded under power and locked open silently into a compact carbine.
"Oh, neat," April said smiling. Heather could see she didn't have to sell this.
"It's got a bit more juice than a pistol," Heather explained.
"It has Jeff written all over it, the way it opens silently. Thanks."
When they were done her gramps had another detail for her.
"I asked Jon to call the USNA State Department for me and tell them a citizen of Home was traveling to USNA territory for the first time on Earth and ask an address for me that could be contacted if you ran into any problems with customs, or being denied any rights in our terms of surrender. Open your pad and I'll give it to you. I suggest you have it come up to voice as ‘State Department' instead of the lady's name.
April consulted with her mother about traveling. She had been away on missions and spent nights over on other stations commanding the Happy. A couple times she had even gotten a room to sleep, when she couldn't just sleep in the ship, because of people coming and going, or moving freight. But she had never taken a non-business trip away alone for a stretch of days, where she would be going to amusement parks and fancy restaurants. She might have packed a fair sized bag of her favorite outfits, but her mom pointed out that almost all the value of them was due to having been lifted to orbit, so it made little sense to take them the other way. She could do some shopping, the like of which was not available on Home. In the end she did take one extra clean outfit in case she couldn't shop right away.
The bag she took could hold her pad, scanner, spex, com pad, carbine, the extra outfit and lunar items. It had a few small pockets for things like a pen. Heather tested, to make sure her pad would get all its messages below. It had worked perfect before in Australia she remembered, but it was nice to have it checked for North America. Heather also loaded a GPS program that ran off three different systems. On her grandfathers advice she took a roll of various North American bank notes, with a rubber band around them. She had a shopping list that included a hat and sun screen. She was excited to think at lunch that she would be eating supper in Hawaii.
* * *
When she got to the gate she was pleased to see a cluster of friends seeing her off. Her parents and gramps, Jeff and Heather, Jerry, Easy and Ruby, Margaret and Doris. Then she realized with a pang her brother wasn't there. Get used to it, she thought. Something permanent had changed between them, that wouldn't be healed she was sure. But she still was surprised he wasn't here, as a show for the rest of the family if not her. She put it out of her mind and hugged everybody goodbye.
When she got to Heather and Jeff they both hugged her together, not in turn and each kissed her full on the lips without hurrying, not a little peck. When they backed off she could see her parents had a stunned look and her grandpa had a silly big grin. Then, when she stepped back she was horrified to see Adzusa, Genji Akira's assistant was standing back with a pro camera. No surprise that she'd have the newest most expensive video gear made. She intended to look her up and bawl her out, as soon as she got back from her trip, for recording her private send off. Of what conceivable interest was that to the public?
She waved a final goodbye to everyone and stepped off towards the gate. The nervy little reporter Adzusa came around the knot of people and closed on her as she left.
"You shouldn't come down the tube Adzusa. You're supposed to stay back at the gate if you're not departing," she snapped irritated.
"Why, that's exactly what I'm doing April. I'm riding down too, so we're traveling companions today," she replied, all happy with the idea.
"Did my grandfather set you on me as a babysitter? I'm gonna kill him if he did."
"Why no. Not at all. Akira has friends in the State Department, who told him yesterday you were coming down. He called me and I'm very interested in seeing what sort of a welcome they have for you. You have to admit, you seem to a dependable source of awards level photo opps. I'd have just given anything to have caught that footage Williams got of you on New Las Vegas."
"You don't think you are going to trail me around while I'm down there do you?" April kept moving along, so Adzusa had to keep up. "I won't put up with it. I intend to be able to relax a little now and then. Not see you lurking behind every bush with a camera, waiting for me to pick my nose."
"April, be nice. Have I ever put anything on one of our sites showing you yawning, or any other unflattering pose? You have a mystique with the public if you don't know it and it would be stupid of us to tarnish it. As far as picking your nose - you are so genteel, I doubt if you'd do that in your own room with the lights out, for fear of offending yourself."
"We don't have to be adversarial. If you would just give me a chance, I can even be a resource for you in Hawaii. My family lived there when I was a child. My father went to Oahu for his company when I was eight years old and stayed until after I was grown and left home. Then he decided to retire there. So when I go home to visit, this is where I go."
"If you want me to show you around I'm like a native. I can take you to all the out of the way places to eat, that the tourists never would bother with, beaches the mainlanders rarely will hike in to see. It would be a fair trade for the story I'm getting and I'd sit and listen to your input to guide me, what you felt was an acceptable story without being too intrusive. See? I'm trying to work with you. I haven't been back in three years myself, so it's time to see the folks again. And then I promise I won't try to follow you when you leave. I'm really not such a terrible person, if you'd give me a chance."
"Are you offering to take me by your home then, or are you carefully keeping your personal life untainted by the object of your story?"
Adzusa looked as shocked, as if she had slapped her in the face. "I never considered you'd care to come to my home. You've never invited me to your home and I always thought you didn't like me. I mean really-seriously-disliked me."
"I have very few people to my home. I can literally count them on my fingers. I live with my parents and brother still, so it really isn't my home and it's awkward to invite people. But to be perfectly honest I figured you were only interested in me as a story. I'd have thought if you came to my place it would just be an interview. You aren't always very easy to deal with as a reporter you know. I certainly don't have any enmity for you, no, but you can be irritating as hell when you assume you are going to be mistreated. Margaret said she came as close to killing you one day in the cafeteria, as she has with anyone in civilian life. So if you want to have a different relationship now that's fine. Just let's make it clear, because I'm not much good at convoluted social games. In fact that reminds me. I understand it's illegal to run verifying software, to check if a person's public statements are true. I'm going to voluntarily allow anyone that wants to, to do so. So you're the first I'm telling right now. Go ahead and run anything you've got on my statements. Just tell the real numbers and with what software you analyzed them, if you make it public."
Adzusa looked stunned. "Nobody does that. I won't try to talk you out of it. After all, it's a reporters dream. And I still want to cover you as a reporter. Especially, I want to see how these Earthies treat you when you arrive. But if you want to get to know each other and I can play the tour guide I'd like that. I won't abuse it by filing stories about every hot dog stand you stop at and yes, if you care to come meet my parents I'd be pleased to take you home. My father would be delighted to meet you. He alternates between telling me how ridiculous your latest foolish exploit was and asking me why I'm not more like you. You'll find him very loud and opinionated," she said smiling at some private memory. "But beyond covering you professionally, I've always had the highest regard for you as a person. I'm sorry that never was apparent to you. I guess I thought it would be obvious, from the stories I posted."
"Truce then. Let's see if we can be friends, beyond the reporter and subject relationship," April said standing by her seat. "Why don't you tell the second officer you need to move to the seat here beside me and we'll talk about what we're going to do on the way down?"
When Adzusa returned she had her switch without any trouble, settled in the next seat over and asked, "Do you have reservations for a car and room?"
"Yeah, I picked a place online, on the beach and got a room for three days. It's prepaid so I can't cancel it. I didn't think about a car. I assumed there would be transportation available from the port. It's a combination spaceport and airport - they should have all sorts of transport into town shouldn't they?"
"Yeah but public transportation is yucky," Adzusa assured her. "And to get around you need your own car. You can get a rental at the airport, but to get something comfortable you need to pay a premium. They are discouraging people from owning private cars on the island, so it's outrageous. How about if I teach you how to drive?" she said with enthusiasm.
"As long as you feed me supper first," April demanded.
"We're on California time. We'll be dropping back and doing lunch again."
"Four meals a day," she considered. " I like vacationing already."
"Has anyone every described a cruise ship vacation to you and how they feed you? It's their shameful little secret. It busts every current taboo about conspicuous consumption."
"I'm all ears," she assured Adzusa.
They chatted about unimportant things for awhile, then suddenly serious she asked April, "Do you know how many citizens of Home have been down to North America since the war?"
"No. I never tried to find out. Not many I'd think. Not to hurt your feelings, but most of my friends call it the slum ball. It was fear that they'd ship us down, after they took over the station as part of seizing the Rock last year, that made Jeff and Heather and I decide to resist. We figured we'd never get back above the atmosphere, once we were branded as trouble makers."
"I bet Jon Davis knows," Adzusa commented. "In the last year, since hostilities, about a hundred Home citizens have been down to France, Japan, Tonga and Australia. And once down they have gone all over the world. But not one citizen has been back in USNA territory Earthside. Just satellites controlled by North America. Keep that in mind please," Adzusa begged her. "All those people avoiding USNA territory says a lot to me. Nobody feels safe to do it."
"How about you? April asked. "If you are Japanese born, don't you have to wear a foreigners card? Or did you naturalize?"
"I have permanent legal residency, as does my family. You only have to wear a card if you are passing through, or on a limited visa. I thought it was silly to agree to wear them anyway. Conquerors do not agree to wear a license, to pass through the conquered territory. They go where they please."
"It was just so stupid when we went to other stations and they wanted to issue them, that I guess we didn't argue, because we thought it made them look worse than us. Just petty really. We made jokes about it and felt they were giving themselves bad press not us."
"Well, I guess it's too late now, but I think that to the average person in North America, who has to be hassled with permits and ID and red tape every day, that card says to them you are still under some degree of government control, or you'd tell them to shove their silly card."
"Thanks for pointing that out. If somebody brings it up, I'll try to have an answer ready."
"You seem very close with Jeff Singh and Heather Anderson. Do you want me to drop the human interest side of the story, or can I use that? The pic of them kissing you goodbye was really touching and shows the soft side of you as a person, instead of just a killer of space ships and revolutionary. But I can drop it if you just want to stick to politics."
This woman knows exactly what to say to me to get me to agree to anything, April thought to herself. Touching indeed! I was angry at her shooting our pic like that and now she makes it sound like an opportunity, instead of an invasion of privacy.
"Use whatever you want," she offered aloud. "If they weren't ashamed to show their affection for me in public, I won't shame them by acting like it's something to hide. They deserve better than that. They are my very best friends and business partners."
"Is that all?" Adzusa asked, fishing.
"No, they're co-conspirators too," April added. Let her truth analyze that, April thought.
The space plane bit into the air finally, nose high and riding on a sheet of fiery air trapped under its flat belly. April realized she should talk with Jeff about this. They should not be dependent on the kindness of others, to buy a ticket to the Earth's surface. Home should have at least one craft capable of an Earth landing. And she'd prefer one that didn't have to land on a big runway. Feeling the deceleration pulling towards her feet was strange. She was used to taking it flat on her back. When she came down before to see her grandparents she'd never thought it strange, but now she was used to something else. The pilots allowed you to watch their approach on the flat screen in the seat pod back in front of you, or through spex. She not only watched in her spex but recorded the experience, since landing on an island was a novelty. She had landed in an airplane from Australia before, but that was quite different. It seemed like a lot of ocean and the island looked awfully small. It rushed in at them and April reflected on how backing up to your destination in a regular space ship, removed much of the drama of seeing it grow large in the ports.
Chapter 22
When they hit the runway, the G forces braking on the ground were higher than bleeding off speed in the atmosphere. At the end of the runway they stopped braking while still rolling slowly and a tow tractor slid in from the side and grappled their nose gear on the move. Space planes didn't carry taxi motors in the wheels, like airliners. The crew was telling them to remain seated until they were at the terminal, but there was no cabin crew, just a flight crew and several of the passengers ignored it, getting their carry on items ready and standing at the front of the cabin ready to disembark. April always thought that was silly, to stand there swaying in the aisle, instead of having a little patience. Her mom was usually one of the last off a plane and it still made sense to her. All the anxious people standing in the aisle looked uniformly unhappy.
When they finally came to a halt and she could feel the bump of the walkway sealing to the plane, then she started to worry about leaving. She got her bag, but sat back down. A woman in expensive Earth clothing came in at the front of the plane and a fellow in a dress jacket behind, with a laminated ID card clipped on the outside pocket. April could tell clear from the middle seats, that it was a Homeland Security ID.
Whatever she said, the passengers standing ready to disembark grudgingly returned to their seats and the lady came down the aisle to her and greeted her with a big fake smile. April didn't like her already. She had an ID clipped on also, but it was State Department. She was dressed like she was going to an afternoon wedding, not the airport. She had on a taupe silk suit, that was trimmed with black piping and buttons and enough high karat gold jewelry that April thought she'd never come up once, if she fell in the water. Some of the jewelry had diamonds that looked real.
"Miss Lewis, I'm Caroline Jordan, if you'll follow me I'll see you are escorted around Security and through Customs without any fuss. We have a lounge you are welcome to use, until we can arrange a quiet exit, that will allow you to not be bothered by the press."
"Thank you, but I really just want to be left alone, if I don't have some pressing problem. I'm planning on spending a few days with Adzusa Satos, who came down on the shuttle with me, so I don't wish to be separated from her. If you want to expedite her through Customs and Security, I'll walk through with her, but I'm really not subject to either, so no big process is needed. I pass USNA Security and Customs all the time on ISSII and New Las Vegas and it's no problem."
"We didn't know you would have a traveling companion. Your grandfather, when he inquired for an information contact didn't mention it."
"Probably because I didn't know it myself. We chatted on the flight down and she kindly offered to show me around, because she was basically raised on the islands. We've met before on Home, but never got to know each other on a friendly personal level. So if you want to walk her through please do so."
"I really need to go talk to some people first. Would you wait a few moments in our VIP lounge and we'll take care of your friend and bring her along?"
"No. I think I'll stay with her. I'm worried you might give her a hard time for associating with me and I think you need to call your bosses and tell them everything is not just what they thought it was and ask what to do. I'm leaving here and going where I please and I won't be managed. I don't want constant official hospitality hanging over me. So get out of the doorway and let us disembark. If we hadn't wasted all this time flapping our gums with you, we'd have all been off this shuttle by now."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. We thought you'd welcome a quiet official welcome. We can really be helpful in making things smoother."
"For whom? So far you're just ignoring my complaint, you are blocking the door. If you don't intend to let me off the plane, I guess I can keep my seat and wait for them to service it to lift again."
"Not at all," she said, touching the side of her hair briefly, like she was pushing her ear bud back in to hear something better. "Why don't you bring your friend and we'll expedite you together?" she said, backing down.
April gave Adzusa a questioning look and got a nod to move on. When the State Department lady saw the sophisticated video rig, riding on Adzusa's shoulder she looked unhappy. The public eye April wore had been enough trouble. April slung her small bag cross ways, strap over her right shoulder, hanging under her left arm. They walked down a long corridor that had waiting areas and counters. Everything was empty and there were no people. Even worse, their escort acted like nothing was unusual and didn't comment on why the place had been stripped of people. When they fell in behind them, April keyed her spex to activate two small cameras, that looked backwards from above each ear. Her foreword vision was unobscured, but by glancing up slightly she had a rear-view - eyes in the back of her head.
"They evacuated the public from this whole section of the terminal," Adzusa said aloud to her, ignoring the fact the two walking behind them could hear what they were saying. "I have a bad feeling about this. Is there anything you can do? I'm afraid we're going to be hanging in ankle chains before dark, looking at the rats upside down."
"I have an aversion to Federal hospitality too, so I just primed our militia net on my spex. I can't keep us from being snatched, but I have the next ten satellites that pass this location primed to dump on it, if they jam my link and try to cut me off. They'll burn everything off down to the bedrock and Pearl Harbor will be a lot bigger.
"There's over a million people live on this island April. My dad lives on this island."
"Sorry, but if we go down, I intend to take an honor guard they won't forget. The island will still be here. At least some of it. Just not Honolulu, or much on this edge of the island. I could have targeted stuff on the mainland too. Crud, I forgot how bad it smells down here."
In her spex the agents behind them looked at each other and seemed tense. The lady very carefully, as if she were thinking about each word, spoke up so they'd hear. "Honest, ladies. We have no intent to detain you. We simply intend to escort you out, with as little fuss as possible."
When they got down to the security gates, they could see a crowd being held back by a portable barricade and a line of airport security. It was a little different than any crowd she had ever seen, because every one of them had a camera or a microphone. It was the press and they couldn't have looked any nastier, if they had pitchforks and flaming torches, instead of media gear.
"You see we were trying to protect you?" the lady from the State Department asked her. "Do you really want to walk out into that, or do you want us to sneak you out a side door or in a van?"
"Are they as creepy as they look?" April wondered, amazed.
"They'll be all over you, pawing and tugging like beggars in a Protectorate bazaar," she said.
"You really don't like them do you?" April asked, amused, but actually agreeing.
"With all due respect to Miss Satos here, because I realize she is a real journalist, this mob is the scum of the Earth."
"Well I'll give you a treat then. After Adzusa clears here, we're going to walk through that crowd and I suggest you call for a few ambulances right now, because if anyone lays their grubby little paws on me, I'm going to teach them some manners. If you want to take some video, your crowd control people might enjoy it later." That got no reply, but no objections either.
They got to Security and Adzusa walked through and was cleared. She didn't have any luggage. That was the surest way to not have any hassle. She had her com pad on her belt linked to her video and opened it up and showed them it was a working machine. April was right behind her and the guard in Homeland Security uniform objected. "She has a knife in her belt and the machine says that thing holstered is not a gun mechanically, but it appears to be a weapon and nothing that is a replica, or has the appearance of a weapon is permitted."
"It is a weapon," April informed him. "Your buddies working security in orbit see them all the time when we pass security. It's a Mark IV Singh laser pistol and you better get used to it, because if you have more of us come through from Home, some of them carry pretty crazy stuff. They carry long guns, around the station. Who knows what they'd want to feel safe down here."
The State Department lady, Caroline spoke up, "Miss Lewis is a citizen of Home, as you can see from her card. She is not subject to being stopped, or any restrictions on what she can carry into, or across USNA territory. You should have a country specific instruction sheet in your manual that details that."
"Yes, we did, but my boss tore it out and threw it away. That's not what he told me when he trained me."
"Then if you wish, you can join your boss on the sidewalk after you both are discharged." She pulled out her com pad and folded it open, saying, "Phone mode. Would you like the exceptional honor, of being fired by the President of the United States of North America herself?"
"The guard glared at her, but yielded. "No I'll pass. That way I'll have the satisfaction of still being here, after the election and that silly bitch is out of a job instead of me."
He didn't see it coming at all. The impeccably dressed, feminine lady in front of him, caught him flat footed and slapped him open handed, so hard he slid on his butt into the scanning machine and ended up back against it with both legs sprawled out straight. The crack of it was like a gun shot. His head was bent over so far, for a moment April thought she had broken his neck. Then after a pause he blinked and a flicker of awareness passed across his face and April realized he had been knocked senseless for a moment from a flat handed slap.
"No, you pushed past the limits there, even if you do let her pass. You are no longer a Federal employee. Turn your ID in and surrender your weapon and remove yourself from the security area. Come on," she said to April and Adzusa. "now Customs. Damn - I broke a nail on that jackass."
"You are having some internal dissent?" April asked her, confused. "But that was a Homeland Security man and you have another one of them with you."
For the first time the man spoke. "There's disagreement even within the agencies. And don't expect it to be any smoother with Customs," he warned.
The officer at Customs looked positively eager, which April didn't take as a good sign.
He asked Adzusa. "Anything to declare?" Giving her passport hardly a glance.
"No. I have no luggage and I'm not importing anything."
"Do you have the declaration form for your video equipment, showing you took it out of the country and didn't purchase it abroad?" Caroline tensed at that.
"Yes, here it is," she offered the document, "and the file number to check it against your copy in your database."
"Hmm," he looked at the camera which carried a serial number on its face, than asked to see a serial number for the pad she carried on her belt. He looked at her ears and hands and April realized he was looking for jewelry to argue about.
"Thank you, Ma'am. Enjoy your visit to the islands."
"I'm not a visitor, this is my home," she informed him, in precisely clipped angry speech.
"Anything to declare?" he asked April in exactly the same voice he used with Adzusa.
"I'm a citizen of Home and am not subject to duty or seizure, so by definition I can't have anything to declare. I frequently pass Customs on your orbital territories and extend them the courtesy of letting them know what we carry their emergency or fire services might want to know about. But it just a courtesy and I have nothing like that today."
"Then why are you wearing a foreigners pass around your neck, that doubles as a travel permit if you are not subject to USNA law?
April silently thanked Adzusa for making her think this through ahead.
"We've been doing so, again, as a courtesy. Just as you would take your shoes off, if you had rented a house to someone and it was their custom to take them off before entering. We did so even though we thought it a little rude. But when courtesy is withdrawn, it can't be extended in return, can it? So your lack of manners just spelled an end to our patience with the ID." She took her card off, flipped it on the floor and drew her laser, saying, "Set twenty percent power," and gave it a short burst. There was a buzzing flash with green tones and card was a melted puddle with an acrid stink and she reholstered her pistol.
The Customs man looked real hard at her shoulder bag.
"Would you like to push for a further deterioration in Home - USNA relations?" she asked. She had pointedly never taken her hand off her pistols grip, when she holstered it.
The man was fuming worse than the mess on the floor. There was a silent war of glances and glare, that traveled between him and her two escorts.
"Wrap it up before you get us all killed," the Homeland Security man with her told him.
"What's she going to do, kill all three of us and walk out the door?" he sneered.
"No fool. She's hot networked in their defense system with her spex and if somebody jams her, or if the net goes down while you're screwing around playing Mr. Big, the next ten sats in orbit are auto tasked to drop their weapons on us and the whole city is gone. Precisely because she was scared some jackass like you might arrest her."
The man had turned as white as anyone April had ever seen, like an albino. There was a sheen of cold sweat that seemed to have instantly popped out on his face.
"You should have taken the whole damn shuttle out when it was coming down, instead of letting her set foot on the ground!"
"You still don't get it," April informed him. "Then there's no telling what my friends might have done in response. It's entirely possible they would be angry enough to hit the North American continent. They couldn't make it disappear under the sea like this island, but I'm sure they'd strip anything resembling civilization away, before they felt they'd exacted retribution."
"Pass," was all he could say with a wave of his hand.
They walked up to the barrier and the Security man asked, "If we can't sneak you out, can I make a path for you through them? I'm willing to throw away my career if it will do any good. These people will abuse you if you try to shoulder through them." He looked worried.
"No." April said, gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb. "You've done more than enough dealing with those two for us. Adzusa, stay close behind and we'll walk out and get a car." April knew she should have thanked Caroline too, but she had disliked her so easily, she didn't have it in her to say it.
She squeezed between two of the airport security men and made a gesture at the closest couple newsies to move aside. They all shouted over each other, to where nothing was intelligible. The closest one over the tape shoved a camera across the barrier right in her face and set the flash off. April for the first time in public moved as fast as her gene mod allowed her to now, slapping the camera straight down on the floor with a crash, reached back across the security tape and poked a straight index finger right in the fellows eye, who had invaded her space. His hands were going up to grab at the injury, when she grabbed a handful of his amble hair and pulled his face down to meet her knee coming up. After the crunch she just pulled a little harder and side stepped, so he went flying face down behind her. The nearest other fellow to the left still had his camera up leaning forward with it eagerly, so April just straight armed it back into his face.
Even without her newly enhanced reflexes, the last year's Wednesday night workouts and martial arts training from Jon and Jeff was showing in her form.
By that time the crowd was starting to react and April pulled her pistol again, first shooting the man's camera laying on the pavement, even though it was probably junk already. She wanted the front rows to have some warning what was coming. Instead of backing off, the crowd was pressed forward from behind, to fill the hole made by the two stricken reporters. She carefully shot the toes, on four of the front newsies, before the crowd started to realize how badly things had suddenly gone wrong.
The hubbub of voiced changed tone, from manic to fearful. Just for dramatic effect she cranked the pistol back up to full power and put a short burst into the high ceiling. The nature of the beam was such it modulated to shake the target apart as much as burn it. So the beam cutting through the acoustical covering and lighting fixtures above, made a wail that her friend Jon had described as, "God's own fingernails dragged down the blackboard of heaven." When it bit into the concrete underneath, the thermal shock spalled a shower of hot sharp chips off too. The strange wail and shower of hot debris that came down, accelerated a stampede away from them, that had already shown considerable momentum.
She stopped firing and holstered her weapon, watching the wave of humanity wash away from her, a few of the tail most limping from a burned foot. There was a lot of horse yelling, the drumming of footfalls and the sounds of furniture and glass breaking, along with expensive media equipment. In less than two minutes from stepping to the tape they were standing alone at the barricade and on the other side was an expanse of open floor, scattered with fine debris of all sorts and an occasional large piece such as a microphone, camera or a smoldering shoe. There was a pile of overturned rubbish bins and bent and crushed chairs that the manufacturer had positively guaranteed unbreakable. A literal handful of the bravest among the press, had the nerve to stop and peek back around the corner from a cross corridor and a couple shop doorways a good safe distance away. April didn't figure that for a problem.
April looked back over her shoulder and all three of the security people were standing with their mouths hanging open. None of them would have believed less than a line of riot police with shields and gas could have cleared the corridor, a moment ago.
As they walked carefully through the wreckage. April asked Adzusa, "Aren't you going to chastise me a little, for being so harsh with your fellow newsies?"
"April, those were paparazzi. What you just did, was fulfill the fantasy of every celebrity from a century of abuse at their hands. They've blocked people's path, invaded homes, hung over fences, dangled from eves. People have died trying to run away from them, so they could have a moment of peace. Few tears will be shed by those who really know what the pests are like, although the tabloids will make you out a monster."
I can live with that," April assured her, indifferent.
The lady at the car rental counter was nice but firm. If you didn't have a major credit card and a valid state license, you couldn't rent anything. No, a check card was not the same. No, your friend could not be the designated driver for you, if you couldn't drive. An International Driving Permit had to be presented with a state license and it didn't matter what the law was, they followed company rules, because it was their car. And no, you couldn't just prepay a lump and take the car. No, they didn't have any they could sell outright. That was another arm of the company altogether, that disposed of their used vehicles on the mainland.
"Maybe I should just rent it and be done with it," Adzusa offered. "I have a credit card and a driver's license."
"Let me try one more thing," she looked at the local business directory on her pad. "What's the brand of the premium cars you rent?" April asked the rental agent.
"The Daimler Benz are our top of the line."
Adzusa watched as April accessed the local commercial directory and highlighted an address on the pad and activated it. She got a video connection and a nice young man in a dark suit answered.
"Hello, I'm April Lewis from Home and my friend and I are at the port and unable to rent a car. How far are you from the spaceport and if I buy a car from you, can you pick us up here and show us what you have available to buy and drive home today?" Adzusa couldn't understand what the young man asked, but April said, "We're two young women. I like almost anything in black. Drive something fun and practical for exploring the island and if we don't like it we won't be shy to tell you." Then she said, "I didn't know that went out on the news services already, thanks for telling us. But no, I promise I won't shoot you if I don't like it. The newsies are exaggerating," she said. "I don't think there was structural damage to the building, just a few lighting fixtures and some furniture."
April was anxious to sit somewhere quiet and call Jon and gramps on Home and them about entering. After the hassle with the card, if they didn't stop using them at New Las Vegas and ISSII, they were going to look as divided as the North Americans had just now. She didn't think anyone she knew on Home would balk at trashing the stupid cards.
"He'll be here in fifteen minutes," she promised, closing up the pad. "Is there anywhere to get a decent cup of coffee in this place?"
Chapter 23
The Mercedes was a truck. It was finished in a Ebony Swirl Black, a gorgeous textured finish that shed any adhesion of dirt or debris like a non-stick skillet. Bird doo or tree sap just peeled off from the air flow when you drove. You couldn't wax it, because wax just beaded up and fell off. It had buttery soft gray leather seats and floated on an all independent suspension with huge balloon tires, with smart tread that adjusted to grab the road surface and could go down the beach or up the side of a mountain. It cocooned the occupants in filtered, purified, cooled or heated air, that was restored to the proper ionic balance. The dash held communications and entertainment equipment to rival that in any home and it had chill or hot compartments for carrying a generous supply of cold drinks and room for a glorious picnic.
The outside was gracefully curved with harmonious expanses of sweeping glass and it had a robust power plant that could feed its fuel cell modules from a wide variety of liquids. But it would never be mistaken for a sports car or even a sedan. It was a massive boxy truck, with hard points hanging out to attach cables and enough ground clearance that you might run clean over local wildlife and never endanger it with contact. April loved it at first sight, when it pulled up to the curb. It had the same beautiful aura of functionality, that she was used to in spaceships.
When they got back to the dealership April beamed the payment to their salesman and allowed a colleague to take his picture with them in front of the truck. April had no idea that pic would generate so many sales, he could have given the thing to them free. He arranged insurance and road service, a concept she would never have thought of and immediately decided someone should offer for spaceships. They printed out papers and license tags right there at the dealership and she climbed back in the truck a happy new owner, but jealous that Adzusa was driving her lovely new truck instead of her.
She could claim to be under Home law, but Home issued no real driver's licenses. Custom on Home however did favor professional testing and certification, for operating such things as construction scooters and shuttles. If it was by associations and not government that was a nit. The purpose was still to protect the public and April was sure her countrymen would censure her if she didn't act responsibly where safety was involved. They needed to resolve the problem eventually. Maybe training on a simulator?
Adzusa took right off heading out of town. She told the truck darken windows sixty percent and got the inside temperature the way she liked. April didn't even mind the music she picked. She flipped a few switches and the car issued a warning when she was overtaking another vehicle, or past the speed limit. April had no idea why she bothered, as she ignored it. She seemed to have a destination in mind so April kept her mouth shut. She assumed Adzusa would know she needed to be fed pretty soon.
The nature of the surroundings slowly changed from urban to suburban and then, when they crossed another road there was a sign announcing a different township and it abruptly became country. There were fields and crops and just an occasional building, most of which didn't look like people lived in them. Finally Adzusa turned on a road that didn't have a hard surface and April asked her, "This is just dirt isn't it? No pavement, just the Earth itself?"
"They spread gravel on it, so it's still a little artificial, but I'll take you on some they don't even do that. They just come along with a grader every few months and drag it flat with a big blade, to get rid of the ruts and bumps."
After they drove a bit more it got hilly. April was surprised how seldom you could see the mountain or the sea, for the folds of the hills and the trees. She thought you'd just be able to turn and see either one from almost anywhere, but it didn't work that way. They came to a cross road of gravel like the one they were on. At the corner a cluster of buildings was set back, a few houses and a long windowless building with a bunch of vents. Across the street were cattle in the fenced field, but right near the road was a low white building with a tin roof. Adzusa pulled in the parking lot. It was gravel too, but whiter than the roadway. Rather than park by the building she parked in the shade of some trees and rolled the windows down a few centimeters, before shutting all the systems off and locking it up. It smelled a lot better out here than in town.
The building had a few advertising signs on the outside for soft drinks, some of which hadn't been made for years, but the only sign identifying the business was a hand painted board by the door that said 'Sam's. The door was set back under a shady overhang of the roof, that ran the length of the building. It was screened as were two long windows on each side. They were hinged at the top with a big storm shutter raised to the overhang, that could be lowered and dogged down too.
When they went in there was a wide aisle of wooden planked floor that ran straight across, to an identical door and windows on the opposite side. On the left was a store of sorts, with groceries mixed with cleaning supplies and goods such as socks. All sorts of small goods were crammed on shelves, to the ceiling at the walls but only chest high in the middle of the floor. There was a small counter with its own register and a yellow tabby cat on its side laying against the register, motionless except for the tip of its tail working. There were no customers or help, but on the right was a restaurant like April had never seen.
A man was working behind a counter with stools in front. They were not the bolted in the floor sort like you'd see in a fake old fashioned soda parlor, but four legged wooden stools. They had once been green but it was mostly worn off everywhere people rubbed against them, or put their feet up. The tops were bare wood too but worn smooth and stained with use, until they were a deep shiny mahogany color.
A couple ceiling fans like something from a period movie, turned lazily above. Behind the counter was a grill and when they sat, the air from the fans was sucked from behind them, towards the hood over the grill. There was a cooler that April realized from looking in the glass doors was food for the grill and goods to be sold in the store both. The counter was laminate a bluish gray with little white outlined boomerangs drawn on it except where there the pattern was worn away from where people's elbows rubbed. There was another patch worn away at the end corner and April wondered what went on there to make it bare.
"If you come in here six in the morning, it's all full of cowboys having breakfast," she told April. "I'll bring you back, because it's worth seeing." There were three small tables in the corner too and they all had the same green vinyl tablecloth on them, but each was a different size and height with different legs sticking out. Only a couple chairs were alike.
"Sam this is April," she introduced her casually. He had on an ample apron and after wiping his hands on it reached across the counter. April got braced to be grabbed and pumped, but his fingertips just kissed her palm spacer style and withdrew. Adzusa took a stool, so April followed her lead.
Sam was a little different. Usually April could place a person's ethnic origins but not Sam. He had that deep bronzed look, but not from the sun and yet he had constellations of coppery freckles under the color. His eyes had a hint of the fold like Adzusa had, but subtle. His hair had that close wavy look that white boys curled their hair to get and that black guys got by straightening. But April suspected looking at it, he did neither and it was just that way naturally.
"You want some lunch?" he asked "Most of the supper stuff is not cooked yet," he informed them, waving at three big squared off white tubs with domed lids. April guessed they must be some kind of cooker. Something certainly smelled good in here. Each had a small amber light on the front. In April's world that meant something was wrong and needed to be fixed, but they didn't seem worried by it, so the color code must be different here. April was in sensory overload, because almost nothing she looked at or smelled was familiar. She liked it.
"I'd like a cheeseburger, fries, coleslaw and a Paniolo Ale," Adzusa requested.
"OK, You see Tommy drive up you hide the bottle," he ordered her.
"Who's Tommy?" April wanted to know.
"That's the deputy that patrols up here now and then. Sam is licensed to sell for carry out, but not to serve here. So we hide it if the cops come."
"And you Missy? What would you like?" he asked.
April had been reading the menu board on the wall. "I'd like two of the grilled fish sandwiches, coleslaw, onion rings and a Paniolo Ale if it's cold."
"I don't know," Sam said frowning. "I don't care about Tommy, but I don't want your daddy in here yelling at me for serving you. How old are you April?"
"April is an adult Sam. Fifteen, but just like an emancipated kid here. She's from Home. She just bought that truck under the trees in her own name with no problem."
"Yeah, when I saw that fancy thing drive up I thought - Hot Damn, I got me some tourists lost. I almost flipped the menu over to tourists prices ‘fore I saw you get out."
April thought he was joking, then she saw the menu really was hung on a chain from a single point. He saw her looking at it and grabbed the bottom, pulling it away from the wall and turned it over. On the back were about half as many menu items, for at least twice the price. April was laughing so hard she almost fell off her stool. He flipped it back grinning and she tried to remember what had been absent on the other side. The pulled pork, fried bread and the spam and eggs for sure.
"So if you are from Home where's your foreigners pass?" he asked, patting the top of his breastbone, where they hung the way most wore them.
Adzusa explained how the Customs agent got in her face about it and how she'd burned the card into the floor. "She ended up with her hand still on her pistol in the holster and left the impression she'd just as soon melt him into the floor too."
"I wish I'd been there to see that," he said chuckling, "I'm not going to sell you no beer. I'm going to buy you one for that story." He pulled out a tall one and levered the cap off with some sort of small tool. It was comfortable at the counter, but sweat was running off the bottle immediately. He slapped food on the grill and disappeared for a few minutes while they talked. He came back as the fry baskets needed emptied and wrapped the cooking up.
When he turned around next there was only one sandwich on the beige oval plate and she reminded him gently she wanted another.
"I don't start the second right away. This one is perfect for your mouth right now. If I make the second at the same time it will be cooled down and not near as good by the time you get to it. It will be along about the right time you need it," he said with a wink. The fillet was hanging out all around the edges. It was in a hoagie bun brushed with butter and grilled until it had a nice crunch.
"Would you have some hot sauce?" April asked and he got a bottle from under the counter in front of her. "What sort of fish is this?" she wondered.
"It's Mahi-Mahi today. I use whatever my nephew catches," he informed her. She noticed he dipped another handful of raw onion rings in batter and dropped then in the oil, so they'd be fresh with the second serving. Adzusa went off to the ladies room and she made a quiet sign of finger to her lips to Sam and sneaked off to the back door to check something. When she got back a fresh beer was uncapped without request. She figured out herself that the one fryer off from the other two was for the onion rings only, to keep the taste separate.
After she polished off two sandwiches, rings, a mountain of coleslaw and both beers she leaned back and raised her hand to her mouth. Sam looked a little worried like maybe she was going to be sick, but all she did was politely muffle a fishy beer burp, that came all the way up from her toes.
"What ya got for desert?" she asked.
Sam smiled real big.
Chapter 24
"Honest April, twenty bucks is more than enough tip around here. If you throw your money around here, people will just think you're foolish, not generous."
"But that's part of my agenda to flash some cash on ‘em, besides reminding them who the hell whooped their butts."
Adzusa looked across at her briefly and then back at the road, chilled by what she had heard. She was hearing entirely too much truth and it was the beer talking.
"Hush up, beer breath. They probably put a bug on this truck when you bought it and are following every word. I wouldn't even be surprised if they have a drone following us too. The damn things can loiter at a hundred meters up and you can't see or hear them."
"Three bugs," April said and after a brief struggle got the right number of fingers up. "One on each bumper and one in the front dome light. And they did have a drone on us. When you went in the ladies room I ducked out and looked for it. Shows right up plain as can be, when you put the pistol sights in infrared mode."
"Dear Lord. What did you do to it?"
"Poof," April illustrated with both hands opening wide to spread fingers. "They aren't hardened very well."
"Didn't Sam say anything?"
"He just smiled, when he saw the flaming debris rain down in his pasture. I apologized for scaring the cows. That's when he gave me another free beer."
"Sam is one of those that would like to see a free independent Hawaii. He has some real loose and liberal ideas, including some real edgy moves in the import-export business. Now he'll have a recovery team on his land, to clean up after the drone. He doesn't need that kind of attention drawn to him."
"Well he seemed pretty darn happy about it. I bet he'll ask damages for it scaring his cows and sells the suckers lunch at the tourist prices. Does he use his nephews fishing boat for his smuggling?"
"You're as bad as him," Adzusa unknowingly complimented her. "You put entirely too much together too quick and you're going to get in trouble."
That reminded April of a similar warning Ruby had given her awhile back. When two people tell you the same thing it's time to listen, she thought. But what she said was, "Then maybe I should change careers, become a reporter." Adzusa seemed horrified at the thought.
Chapter 25
Adzusa's family home was down one of those scrapped dirt roads she had told April about. The noticeable thing about their driveway in fact, was that it was nicer than the road. She pulled up the drive and parked, in a small area near the house, with a couple sedans and a four wheel drive truck with a pickup bed. It was even higher, but not prettier than the Mercedes.
April noticed there was no perimeter or fence around the property and there were lots of trees and gardens around the house and its associated buildings, but Margaret had given her enough tactical instruction she also noticed the trees all had bare trunks near the ground, with no pine trees or other trees with low masking foliage. The driveway was also meandering, with a couple rock gardens in the loops, where it would have been easy to make it straight. Even with her Mercedes, April didn't think she could take a shortcut across the rocks. They looked more like tank traps than decoration. And beyond the cluster of greenery around the house, there was a band of bare grass at least a hundred meters wide before the trees started again. She'd sure hate to have to cross that, if somebody at the house had a decent rifle.
She also noted the house had no real out buildings. The sheds and garage were all attached in a cluster and there were plenty of windows overlooking every approach. She approved of it from a security viewpoint. It was a real bonus that it was on a rise, that lifted it from the surrounding woods at least three meters. She wasn't sure that was natural or graded.
When they got out a young man came out of the garage and approached them. He looked hard at the aikuchi in April's belt and the laser gun worn cross draw, before he nodded very gravely to them. She had been studying Japanese for months now, but the most she could understand was he asked Adzusa something-something about the service of April's sword. Adzusa replied that April was not her servant. With a start, April understood the man was a family servant. The first she had ever seen that wasn't in a historic video or old movie. April thought she understood the conversation enough she felt compelled to comment.
"I don't trust my Japanese enough to use it, but I want your man to understand, I'm not a hired gun, but if there was trouble while I was your guest I wouldn't stand back and ignore it, I'd support the household that was extending hospitality to me."
"You understood enough," Adzusa told her. "How long have you been working on that?"
"I've been mostly studying with Jeff when we are together for other things. He just about has me to the point where I can order in a restaurant and the help can make it to the kitchen to laugh, instead of bursting out with it right at the table."
"Then we shall help you along," she promised.
April didn't have any idea what to expect. She had read a great deal about etiquette and customs in Japan and didn't know if Adzusa's folks would have a Japanese style home with traditional furniture and mats. She was sort of reviewing it all mentally. She waited to see when they went in the back door if they would have slippers waiting for her or what. When she stepped in, it was more like a mud room in a Midwestern farm house. There was a low bench with shoes kicked off under it and not a slipper to be seen. There was a rubber backed industrial mat on the floor and a box in the corner beyond the bench, with umbrellas, a broom, garden markers, a walking stick carved from a crooked tree limb and a metal baseball bat that had a dent in it. A high shelf above had hats, garden gloves, a beat up paperback, some envelopes of seeds and a baseball glove with a ball jammed in the pocket. A couple slickers hung on hooks.
Adzusa kicked her shoes off under the bench, almost without breaking stride and April hurried to do the same and keep up with her. Inside was a surprisingly big kitchen, that looked like it belonged in a restaurant instead of a house, with a woman working at a counter dicing something. Adzusa greeted her warmly, but kept on moving. Another servant, April thought. Two servants and a huge spread of land for Hawaii. April was revising her estimate of Adzusa's family. She had read the signs wrong on Home, that Adzusa must be middle class by American standards, but from what she was seeing they were quite well to do. She was irritated with herself, that she hadn't figured that out when she hit the end of the driveway.
They went out through a formal dining room, that had rather plain but tall European style furniture and entered a very large room that was set up for comfort, not formal entertaining at all. It had two groups of furniture, one group clustered around a huge thin screen on an inside wall and around a grand piano tucked in a corner that would have filled the Lewis living room on Home all by itself. A sun room that extended out of the side of the house with plants, had more casual furniture and a set of sliding doors let out to a small pool and a patio area with table and chairs.
Adzusa passed right through, just glancing to make sure April was keeping up and went to a tree shaded glass patio table set, where April was finally sure they had reached her parents. Her mother jumped up to hug her and she stood with her arm still around her mom and said, "These are my parents April. They know you of course from my work." It was an awfully informal introduction.
"Sit down, join us and relax," her dad invited. He got up and walked around the table, holding the white painted steel chair out for her. When she sat he scooted it in just right. Not like some people who take two or three tries to get it in far enough. Another young man in a white jacket appeared and silently set a plate and silverware for her, a napkin and then a place for Adzusa beside her. Three servants, thought April. Very well to do indeed, she realized.
"How should I address you?" April asked. "I'd rather just be called April if you are comfortable with that."
"I go by Lin which is a syllable in my Japanese name if you like," her mother offered. "We have a man servant Li, but everybody seems to keep us sorted out in conversation. They say Mama-Lin or such if there is any question."
"Well on the estate here, I usually go by Illustrious Lord or Benevolent Master," her dad suggested. "But if you want, most of Adzusa's friends end up calling me Papa-san and I've been known to answer to Hey-You. As you can tell we're not big on formality and don't try to run a Japanese style household. If we wanted to live like that we wouldn't have stayed on the island when I retired. We both went to college in California and have been back and forth three times over my working years and we like it here just fine." Both of them had the subtle signs of having extensive life extension therapy.
Looking around April could believe he liked it just fine. It was the most impressive private home she had ever been in. Adzusa got done hugging her mom for the third time and gave her seated dad a hug from behind, before coming around the table to join April. He just reached up and patted her arm affectionately, when she circled him. There was a pitcher of iced tea and she poured for April and April guessing maybe this was one of those Japanese customs they did retain, so she poured for Adzusa. But she didn't serve April, she took a bowl of fruit salad and spooned a serving for herself. But in all fairness, after seeing April eat lunch, she might have wanted to get some before April polished it off. April took the clue and served herself also. The man came back with a plate of cookies to go with the fruit. They were warm from the oven.
"That vest looks awfully stiff," her dad observed. "You're welcome to make yourself comfortable if you want. If you want to lay weapons on the table it won't offend us."
April though about it and looked over her shoulder at the tree line. It was about a hundred and fifty meters away.
"Silly me," her dad said. "I didn't realize. It's a ballistic vest isn't it?"
"Yes and it's cooled. But it does get tiresome."
"I'm sure it does. You should know we will be aware of any intruder, long before they can get to the edge of the grass. The sensors are way back in the trees and indeed on the other edge of the woods also. House," he instructed aloud. "Set the intruder alarm from silent, to be sounded in all areas until instructed different. Give us a sample right now just in the patio area."
There was a ding - ding – ding, that seemed to come from the bushes and near the doors.
"There. I'll leave that on for you. If you hear that, you know we have a problem. House, take a voice sample. This is April Lewis. She is a guest. She can enter any area of the house but our bedroom. She has rights to declare an emergency and lock herself in any room. She has rights to page anyone through you. She has access to outside com and data. You can share surveillance information with her. Go ahead dear."
"House do you have aerial surveillance capabilities?"
"Yes, both radar and optical. We buy feed off a commercial aerostat."
"Do you understand what a drone is?"
"Yes, an unmanned instrument platform that usually hovers and is difficult to track with human vision or hearing. Usually with flexible or ducted fans for lift and sometimes lighter than air cells. It may be stealthed for microwaves or lidar also."
"Could you tell me if we have any drones loitering within range you can detect?"
"There is a drone that comes within two miles of our southern boundary occasionally. It appears to do so as the edge of a pattern, that centers on an area further south. It has not changed the pattern in a statistically meaningful way in the last two months."
"Would you please alarm me if you should see a drone take a new interest in this area?"
"Yes, you are on the alarm list. That is sufficient voice sample to identify you now."
"You have a very smart house."
"We like it. I hope you like it here too," her dad said. "I wouldn't worry about the paparazzi finding you here though," he assured her, grinning. "It seems they are all surrounding a hotel down on the beach, waiting for you to come back."
"Huh, looks like you got good value out of that reserved room after all," Adzusa noted.
April felt safe enough now and took the vest off, folding it and putting it on the edge of the table and laid the aikuchi on it. She could tell Papa-san was itching to ask about the knife but restrained himself for now. The laser she left on. She was used to it and it didn't even feel it or think of it anymore.
"Papa-san your security is good, but I'm thinking somebody from the government might be able to pressure the aerostat company to corrupt your feed and it has to be limited in area. Would you permit me to make a gift of the Home Militia satellite surveillance feed to the House?" April offered.
"That would be very much appreciated," he said nodding thanks. "There is an element of risk being around you, but that is just factual observation, not complaint."
"They had a drone tail us and April shot it. Took three bugs off the truck too," Adzusa told him. "We stopped at Sam's for lunch and she went outside and burned it over his pasture."
"Well, I hope they don't give him much trouble over it," her mother said.
"If one shows up here just tell me," her dad offered. "I don't think they'd have the nerve to do that, but if they do - then if you don't pot it I will."
"Sounds good to me," April agreed. She was wondering what kind of business he was retired from, that he wouldn't be shy to shoot a drone himself. The Feds would get ugly with one of their own citizens about that she would think and she remember Adzusa wasn't naturalized. Maybe he was though? That would be odd.
The fruit salad was good. Especially the strawberries. A quart of it and a half dozen cookies and she could probably make it to supper OK.
Chapter 26
They spent a long time on the patio, until the sun disappeared behind the house and the shadows started getting long across the open areas. Adzusa's parents were so nice and had the skill of making a person comfortable. Papa-san finally steered the conversation around to the aikuchi and April explained it was a gift from the man Adzusa worked with, Genji Akira. She invited him to examine it. When he was done he asked for himself, to see her pistol. He was amused when it spoke Japanese to him.
"Speaks it better than I do," she admitted ruefully. "Pistol accept input from holder. Full function except single shot, administrative access and self destruct. Initiate designator beam on trigger pressure. Go ahead and shoot it if you want," she invited. "It is usually run through spex, but doesn't have to be."
"Not that I'm objecting," he said. "But why did you lock out single shot? It sounds like it would be safer than say a continuous beam."
"Because if you take a single shot, that means it is the last shot the pistol will every take. It will go into an emergency mode, where the power supply dumps as much as it can into the pumping diodes, without self destructing. It will pump out one tremendous shot for about a half second and then the residual heat after will ruin the crystal. When it does that the little ring on the barrel blows a sheet of gold coated Mylar out from the barrel, to protect the shooter from back scatter radiation from the beam. After that the only function that would work would be self-destruct because the guts are burned out. But there would still be enough power in storage for that. We're never going to let a pistol be drained dry, so it can't keep itself from being opened up and studied. The pistol is probably as smart as your house. It's a very smart pistol," she assured him again.
"And how much power does it discharge if it self-destructs to keep out prying eyes?"
"It usually dumps the whole charge. Right now about four kiloton."
"My," was all he said rolling it on its side, looking at it thoughtfully.
He looked out between the buildings, where a portion of the driveway was visible climbing to the house. One of the switchbacks with a couple boulders piled on the inside of the curve was visible, about eighty meters away. He held the pistol out in a relaxed grip and when he touched the trigger April noted the aiming dot appeared on the biggest boulder, without him fumbling around walking the point of light where he wanted it. She could see he'd shoot just fine without the aid. He squeezed the trigger and held the beam steady on the rock. In the dusk a little flash of backscatter light ran through the rainbow and as usual seemed to have green dominate. The noise, usually a shriek in thinner materials, was a bass moan from the solid dense material of the boulder. There was a sound like popcorn being made, as the beam ate away a crater in the side. Then after perhaps three seconds at full power there was a loader pop and the rock shattered into three or four major pieces when the core expanded and burst it. When he let off the trigger, there was a small area visible in the jumbled pile, that still glowed with red heat in the gathering dusk.
"I can think of a few times I could have used this," he admitted admiring it. "You could heat some rocks if you didn't have fuel in the desert and cook dinner on them."
That was a use April would have never thought of. "It has a port in the bottom there that will allow you to plug your p-suit in and run off the power pack," April explained. “I suppose there are all sorts of things you could run off that.”
Thinking how very different their perspectives were she blurted out, "Have you ever been up there? Have you been above the atmosphere?"
"No, I haven't. And that's always been a major regret," he admitted. "I've rode a hypersonic on the very edge, but never been into orbit."
"You are ex-military then?" April asked.
There was an uncomfortable silence and then Adzusa spoke. "She'll find out sooner or later. She sticks her damn nose in everything and if you drop one little word once that hints at something, she'll remember it a month later and deduce the whole story. My dad's a spook April."
"Not true," he objected. "I'm a retired spook. There's a great deal of difference. In fact it's quite a difficult status to attain. The profession isn't really one you'd choose, if you looked ahead at how many finish out their service and have a quiet retirement. Way too many end up dead or in mental hospitals. Sometimes even their own county's mental hospitals. Even worse, some end up as politicians."
"A spy?" April asked, perhaps a bit skeptically, afraid they were putting her on.
"I'd prefer intelligence officer," he assured her. "Spies they just drag out back and shoot in the head when they are caught. Intelligence officers they sometimes trade for each other."
"You wouldn't by any chance know a Swiss fellow, Jan Hagen?" she asked, testing. Jan had said the same thing about spies. It was a good line, easily remembered.
There was a flash of recognition and a big smile. "You know Jan? No kidding? What is the evil scoundrel doing now-a-days?"
"Well, we had a little problem at ISSII one day and Jan was seeing us off safe. He was security officer on the hab. He escorted Eddie Persico and some folks we were rescuing to us, on the Happy Lewis and the Chinese were giving him a heck of a time. It was quite an adventure."
"If Jan was involved I'm sure it was. How did he resolve his problem with the Chinese?"
"Well, we really didn't stick around to see. They were refusing to ungrapple us from dockage and Easy was getting ready to cut us off the station with our weapons systems, when a vac rat who had fueled us did us the favor of manually unhooking us. Easy had already blown pressure on their dock shooting a sniper and then shot up their control room through the view port. So when we stood off, nobody was exactly chatting with us or waving goodbye. The Chinese tried to ram us with a yard tractor and we burned them and I admit I was kind of peeved. So we were kind of hanging there, burning their antenna farm off the sat, so they couldn't yell for help or follow us on radar, when we saw the airlock open and a bunch of the Chinese went for a space walk without benefit of p-suit. That's when we knew Jan had resolved his issues with them," she concluded.
"That sounds like Jan. He always was weak on negotiation."
"That's a tremendous story," Adzusa told her. "Why didn't you ever tell it?"
"Well we did. We sold video of that and a bunch of other stuff to the BBC. Hours and hours of it. But you know from inside how news is. They cherry pick one little clip and play it over and over and never do a story in depth unless it's pay for view, or on some obscure specialty channel. All they ever showed much was us ambushing the Pretty as Jade and the James Kelly, then a short clip of the Chinese marine off the Jade getting killed by Dr. Singh. He's the guy we rescued," she added. "You can write the story if you want. I'd give you a copy of our video to the BBC, because they only paid for a forty eight hour exclusive. It's no secret at all. But it's kind of old news now. I don't think anyone would be all that interested."
"You went all through these battles with space stations and space ships and sold the video of it to the BBC? Heavens how much did you get?" Lin wondered. Papa-san looked embarrassed she would ask such a personal thing.
"Oh my brother sold it for us. He got ten million Euro and we split it even between all of us on the Happy and him. We figured if we gave it to them they wouldn't value it or show it. That's how people are. They don't appreciate something if they get it free. So it wasn't much split six ways."
"It wasn't?" Lin asked.
"Hey, you didn't think we were poor did you?" April looked concerned.
Papa-san was laughing behind his hand at the look on his wife's face.
Chapter 27
The same young man who had served them when they sat, came out and asked if the cook could serve dinner in a half hour? Papa said that was fine, which April was happy to hear. He walked back in and before anyone could resume the conversation April's com chimed.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know who would be calling me. Do you mind if I take it?"
They all made dismissive gestures. "Go in if you need privacy dear," Lin offered.
April just shook her head no and flipped the pad open.
It was a four-way conference with Dave who serviced their ships on the main screen, her grandfather in one corner, Jeff and Heather in another and Jon and her dad in the third.
"April, I got your communication this morning about not being a partner with Bob any more. He came in to do an emergency run today with a new crewman and the Happy was not prepped to boost. We had too much torn down to slap it back together, so he loaded his crate on the Home Boy and insisted on taking it. I offered to send one of my guys with him if he needed a third crewman, because that's what you've been doing, but he refused. He said he was doing an orbital transfer, so he didn't need a dock guard. We're kind of worried about him because he didn't do a near earth orbit. He did a Lunar insertion burn, has been in a Lunar orbit and was joined by a ship lifting from Armstrong. Do you know of any orbital transfer delivery he'd be doing with an Armstrong company?"
"No I have no idea. And I don't know anything about a new crewman. I mean, I just quit, so he'd have had to hire the guy today. None of this has anything to do with me now."
"We're worried he might have been forced to leave," her dad theorized. "Perhaps this guy kidnapped him."
"That would be pretty hard to do," April thought out loud. "There are times you are really at the mercy of your fellow crew. Unless the man had something subtle to coerce him. But something as simple as holding a pistol on him just wouldn't work."
"That's what Dave told us," her dad admitted.
"Bob has been acting strangely," April said truthfully. "That's why I quit working with him. I didn't even get a payout of my share. He wouldn't buy me out, or let me buy him out. There was no coming to any agreement with him about anything. I just walked away, because he was hell bent on treating Eddie badly. He said bluntly he was going to cut him out as soon as he could and intimated he would do the same to Jeff as soon as he could get control of the drive technology."
There was a sudden silence of dead air time. Nobody was saying anything and every one of them was thinking the same thing.
"He wouldn't try to take the technology literally would he?" Dave asked. "I mean he wouldn't hijack the ship to try to strip out the drive and reverse engineer it? He's more the sort who would maneuver legally, or with business pressure to get what he wanted, not just grab it."
"I'm not sure anymore," April admitted. "He said some very hurtful things yesterday, I never thought I'd hear. I offered him six million for his share and he bragged on how he had positioned the company for a huge run up of value and expected that pay out. He told me what I had contributed he could have hired out to a salary man, so I didn't deserve any more than a hireling."
"What sort of ship climbed out of Armstrong to match with him?" Her gramps asked.
Dave looked off screen for a moment and came back. "It was a heavy Lunar transport. USNA military. I don't think they're armed, so we never were concerned about their few Lunar vehicles. He does know the drives are booby trapped. I don't think he is stupid enough to try to open something Jeff wants sealed up. He should have some idea how inventive Jeff can be and know there's no way they could ever get in."
"He might, but I wonder if the USNA knows it?" Heather asked. "If they insisted on opening it up, I doubt if they would care to allow him to stand off at a safe distance. It would be foolish to deal with those devils. What were Bob's politics like anyway? Did he even have any?"
"He really wasn't very interested in politics," April's dad answered. "He wanted to do business and make money. He never really expressed any dissatisfaction with being under the USNA. But he didn't mind Home either as far as he ever said."
"When we know something we'll call you again," Dave offered. "Thanks for helping us."
"Talk to Eddie," she suggested. "Even if he doesn't know anything, because he never did pal with Bob, he should know about this because the Home Boy is his ship. Then she thought of something. "Have you seen your man Del today?" she asked Dave.
"No, It's not his work day. Why do you ask?"
"He and Bob seemed close and frankly he seemed a bad influence to me. I just wondered if he could tell us anything about how Bob was thinking."
"I'm trying his number. I'll bring him in the call if he's answering." After a moment, he said in a more subdued voice, "His address is no longer in service."
"Well isn't that a coincidence?" she remarked deadpan, "I don't have any hard evidence, but I bet that's worth looking into also."
Dave just nodded grim agreement and closed the connection.
April folded the pad down and explained the side they could not hear to her hosts.
"So he's in orbit around Luna?" Adzusa asked. She was craning her head around and April wondered why. Then she looked and there was a bright new moon in the dark sky. They were all sitting looking at it, thinking of an invisibly small shell of metal racing around it close. Then against the dark face of the satellite, cupped in the bright arc of the sun lit part, there was a white flare that equaled the illuminated part for an instant in brilliance. It faded in a heartbeat through orange and red. After awhile her phone started ringing again, but she didn't answer it. Then the moon got all blurry through her tears.
"I think I'd like to go to bed now, if you'd show me my room," she asked Adzusa.
Chapter 28
In the morning a young woman entered her room and asked if she needed anything. She requested the small carryon bag be fetched out of the Mercedes and gave the girl her vest and asked it be put on the passenger seat of the truck. She was offered breakfast in her room, which was really sweet, but she asked when her hosts would eat and was told about a half hour, so she asked to join them. First she called her dad and got his voice mail. She said she'd call again and called her grandpa. When she got him he looked absolutely haggard.
"Do you know anything about Bob?" she asked right away.
"Honey, all I can say, is he didn't have any legitimate business for the ship, that we could discover at all. I don't know how or why, but it looks as if he was working with the North Americans to get a look at Singh technology. No matter what happened between you two, there was no excuse for theft. And from what you said, about him wanting to dump or pressure out Eddie and Jeff, it just looks like whatever he did was something he felt hurried up to do now instead of later. It hurts to think that, but I can't see him being forced to do it, unless they had some unknown way to blackmail him."
"Your mom in particular, is grasping at that idea that he was forced to do this. I think your dad knows better, but doesn't want to disillusion your mom. Actually I'm not going to argue it with her either. He's gone and what difference does it make what she wants to think, if it gives her any comfort at all? Dave is upset with himself, because his man Del is still missing and he's sure he was involved somehow. He said he never liked the man, but never felt he had real cause to fire him."
April silently promised herself, she'd always go with her gut feeling about an employee, after seeing how this work out. "You do what you need to down there dear and we'll talk more when you come home. I'll tell the folks you called and that I said you don't have to call them now, since you talked to me. I think you'd find it upsetting to talk to them right now. I do," He hesitated and took a big sigh. "I have to mention this. You need to know. Bob left a will that you are his only heir. So you are again owner of the Happy Lewis and the courier company, as well as a bunch of other stuff. Do you have any orders?"
"Why would he do that, as badly as we were getting along?" she asked.
"I don't know. Just one more thing we have no idea what he was thinking."
"Do you know when he made that will?" April asked.
"No, his lawyer called us up as soon as his death was public and he didn't indicate how long this had been the arrangement. Who else would he name?" her Grandpa pointed out. "If he was close to somebody outside the family, he certainly never mentioned it to me. He did business with you, but not me or your parents."
"I never asked him to do this." April said, perhaps a little too emphatically.
"I wouldn't think you would. Now, honestly, I could see him asking you to make him his heir. Or at least taking insurance out on you, while you were in a business together. He would be concerned with retaining control. But maybe at some level he knew he was doing you dirty and set that up to make things right. I'd like to think so."
"Maybe," she said unconvinced. I don't know what I want to do. I'm too upset right now to deal with it."
"I understand. You have always been a steady one and you are doing better than your Mom," he said. "We had to push her a little bit to take a tranquillizer. Just don't take too long, there are people hanging, waiting to hear what your direction will be since it affects their job and livelihood. Goodbye little gal," he said. "I love you, ya know," and closed the connection.
She felt overwhelmed with sadness again, but resolved to get cleaned up and face the day. Even as upset as she was, she still marveled at the bathroom she entered which was just for her use and easily twice as big as any her grandparents had in Australia. When she came out her case was there and her outfit was laid out neat for her to put on.
It bothered her for an instant that the woman had dug through her things. Then she realized that was her job. She could see you could have servants, or you could have privacy, but not really both. It couldn't have been a much simpler outfit. It was a white hooded t-shirt and a pair of baggy cotton pants with a drawstring waist. She had her same Moon boots. The maid (Four servants! April thought.) Stood around like she was waiting for something.
"Do you need any assistance?" she inquired nicely. "April almost said something snarky and then realize the maid was doing exactly what was expected of her and she was the one who didn't have a clue.
"I've never had anyone wait on me like this," she explained. "I live very simply, in a very small apartment and have never had help, so I wouldn't have any clue what to even ask you to do. If we wore big complicated dresses, like you see in period movies, I'd need all sorts of help. But for a t-shirt and pants, I can't think of anything you could do. But if you see me doing something that doesn't conform to local custom or the habits of the household, I'd really appreciate a private word. Would you feel free to do that?" She went ahead and started dressing.
The young woman nodded yes and April had an idea.
"Do you speak Japanese?"
"Yes, it is my own language. Do you have trouble understanding my English?"
"Not at all, but if you would take the time to speak to me in English and then repeat it in Japanese, that would be a huge help to me."
She seemed to like the idea too. "I can help you with makeup, or I should have offered to scrub your back and helped with your bath. I see now you'd never have thought to ask. Would you like me to take yesterday's clothing off to be cleaned?" Then she repeated it all in Japanese.
"That would be nice to have my laundry done." Then she struggled to repeat it in Japanese, but got hung up and the maid had to correct it and finish it out for her.
"These are the only two outfits I have, so I need to have Adzusa take me into town today and buy some more things."
The maid looked oddly at the white clothing. April had worn all black yesterday. "They told us not to be surprised if you seemed very sad. They said they were pretty certain your brother died yesterday. I'm sorry to hear that, but are these mourning clothes? Was it something you knew was coming?" Repeating it in Japanese was automatic now.
"No. It was a complete surprise. And not a hundred percent certain even yet, but I think that's what happened. For the Japanese, mourning clothing is white isn't it?" She couldn't finish the idea again before she had help. "I have a habit of wearing black. It started almost as a joke. A costume really and I sort of got carried away with it."
"Perhaps you should branch out and buy a few white outfits too," she suggested. It would look appropriate to the Japanese and white is much cooler in this climate. The things you buy here will not be powered or cooled like your vest."
April thought that pretty good advice.
They were all waiting for her at the table and she felt a flash of guilt that she held them up. But when she sat she saw they had already gotten coffee and were working on some pastries. She was starved after skipping supper last night, all upset over her brother. Once she joined them they gave the young man their orders. She asked for a stack of hot cakes, six eggs on top sunny side up, orange juice, a sampler of whatever meat they had and some of the coffee.
Papa-san had on sunglasses, regular old fashioned ones not spex and she could see his eyebrows rise behind them. She took a long sip of the coffee and pronounced it good. When she inhaled the second half of the cup the waiter hurried over to refill it. She could get used to this she decided. When the food came she saw the cook had pretty well figured her out and had included a small grilled tenderloin in the meats, as well as a side dish of lovely pineapple chunks and melon balls.
She explained about her outfits and how she needed to get some things to wear. To her surprise Adzusa was dead set against taking her shopping. "I detest shopping," she assured her. "Have my mother take you. All the clerks in the nice places just love her and she'll take you somewhere fabulous for lunch. Which should probably be by eleven or so," she suggested to her mother, looking at the expanse of empty dishes. "Else she's likely to start snacking on a small clerk."
Lin was at first going to have one of the young men drive, but agreed to drive April's truck and when she did so she started explaining everything she was doing. It was obvious she expected April to remember. They passed Sam's corner store and there was a section of fence down with yellow tape replacing it and in the field was a olive colored military vehicle even bigger that the Mercedes and a tarp over a small mound. There were a couple plastic tote trays on the ground with debris piled in them and a couple young soldiers with slung weapons guarding the site. There was a temporary plate laid over the ditch to access the site and lots of heavy tire tracks across the grass. Sam's was open with the fans visible through the windows lazily turning. But he didn't have any customers.
"Soldier boys make the customers nervous," Lin told her. They'll come back after they're gone. We'll have lunch somewhere else today too," she informed her.
After they drove a bit she said, "Adzusa called your security people this morning. They are pretty sure the Home Boy and the USNA shuttle are both gone. Neither sat back down after they met in orbit, so your brother is presumed gone. The USNA is talking it up like a chance but hostile encounter of warships, that escalated for unknown reasons into a fight when something went wrong. Things like that used to be common on the oceans. The fact they aren't denouncing you and saying it's a provocation, is a pretty good measure of how guilty they are."
"Thank you," April said. "I talked briefly to my grandpa this morning too. He also said he was gone. It doesn't seem real, even though I saw the flare."
The complex they drove up to was low, with lots of polished marble slabs and the outside was landscaped like an exotic tropical fantasy. There was even a waterfall outside with black haired Polynesian maidens frolicking in the pool beneath. April couldn't imagine getting paid to play in the water. She had never seen automatons before. She mentioned she'd like to dive in herself.
"You're welcome to use the pool at our place you know. You do know how to swim don't you?"
"Sure I swam a lot, in the surf even, at my grandparent's home in Australia."
Lin carefully explained the concept of valet parking and how she should do it and what she should tip later, when she pulled up. She had visions of April burning her own tires off with laser fire, thinking someone was stealing her new truck. The kid who took it was just barely restrained enough to still be marginally professional. He obviously highly approved of both the truck and April. Lin was so amused, when the truck was moving off she told April, "If he had to choose an hour of play with you, or the truck, I think he would lock up solid at the dilemma." April was embarrassed.
April had shopped once with her grandmother in Australia. The stores they'd visited had racks of clothing grouped by style and a bunch of different sizes marked, all hung together or on shelves. It was quiet and carpeted and nice. There was a dressing room and a seating area for people accompanying you. She assumed this would be the same.
Here they were shown through a gallery of clothing, where only one of each outfit was shown and that was just representative of the line or style and others would be shown on request. Their private sales room was brightly lit, but all indirect lighting and there was a pair of deep green wing back chairs with a cherry table between them. To the side was a low upholstered stool. A life size thin screen showed views of the center section from all sides.
Lin seated herself quickly and a thin fellow came in wearing actual glasses on his nose and introduced himself as Frank. Why anyone would do that, instead of having their eyes fixed April couldn't imagine. The man had an even skinnier assistant, who spoke in low tones to Lin and scurried off.
"I'll let the young woman tell you what she wants. She is from Home and she's from as different a culture as you'll ever have standing in a fitting room. Approach it with the same caution you'd have fitting an Arabian Princess and I'm sure you'll do fine. She does apparently have a sense of personal space. I have it from reliable sources, she was pressed too closely by the paparazzi at the airport and she shot four of them."
"Good," he hissed. And it's a very hard word to hiss April realized. "I hope she taught the barbarians some manners. What do you need today my dear? And even more important, what do you desire?"
The assistant came gliding back in with a service for tea, that was the oriental style instead of English and an assortment of tiny cookies and little square sandwiches he placed on the table. He served Lin and stepped back to watch carefully. April bet if she'd come in with an English lady, it would have been served in Silver and handled cups.
"I only brought down this outfit you see and another that is also all black. I've been a little stuck on black for political reasons and I'd still like some more black, but also some all white and I'll look at color but probably not with much patience. The Moon boots are my only shoes, but they aren't real."
"In what way are they not real?" he asked confused.
"Real Moon Boots have a special sole, with a nano tech surface. They are like shark skin. Have you ever felt shark skin?" she asked.
He nodded yes.
"Well it has a grain just like sharkskin. You slide your foot forwards and it's as slick as Teflon. You slide it back and it's as gummy as a sticky sack and grabs the floor. Slick and stick. At a sixth normal gravity you can skate on a polished stone floor faster than a man can on ice. But mine just have normal soles. Of course they're about fifteen hundred EM cheaper too," she admitted.
"Fascinating," he allowed, not having a clue what a sticky sack was, but grasping the concept readily enough.
"Would take your things off and step in the middle of the carpet. The lasers will scan you from all around. If you want to close your eyes you can, but it won't harm them. We need you to stand normal with your hands at your side then lift your arms out level for a moment and lastly stretch with them straight up. The machine will prompt you."
April took off her sash and vest. The man helped her with the vest.
"This is cool in the inside!" he exclaimed.
"Yes it's refrigerated and it's bullet resistant and ablative too. All nano tech. I'll be able to wear it with my white outfits too," She told him. "Watch." She put her spex back on for a moment and interfaced with the vest. On command it faded from shiny black quickly through the shades of gray to a brilliant white.
Frank was delighted. Just to tease him she ran it through a rainbow sequence. He had a big silly grin watching it. "Could I possibly buy information on how that is done?" he asked.
"Perhaps, I'll let the people know you'd like to license it. It's something new, we just started getting shipped in ourselves from the Moon. Now, once you measure me up, can I order things from home and get them shipped, until I change shape enough to need a new fitting?"
"Yes, we could, but honestly I fit a lot of people and a girl at your age will change so much, I'd be surprised if any of these things would fit you properly in six months."
"I'm into some pretty heavy life extension therapy, so you can expect I'll stay just about like I am, for at least another three years."
"Down here you're better off not to tell people that April," Lin worried. "You are going to have people get in your face and have trouble."
"The only trouble you'll have with me is jealously," Frank warned her. "John," he nodded at his assistant, "and I are both saving up to take a long cruise together and have the very best life extension done in Italy when we lay over there."
April looked at the sash with knife and pistol lying on the chair and something bothered her. She picked the pistol back up and offered it to Lin who took it surprised. "Accept current holder for full usage, all privileges but administrative." There, that felt better. She stepped out of her boots and peeled off the top and dropped the baggy pants in a heap. Both Lin and Frank looked a little scandalized.
"Do you customarily not wear any underwear?" Frank asked, very neutrally.
"Sure, underwear is for little kids. I rarely wear anything more than a half day and it's always laundered each use or thrown away and it's expected on Home you actually wash when you use the bathroom, not just use paper like I see here. So you never have a chance to get whiff, unless you are working out and then you shower if you need it. I don't know any of my friends, male or female who wear underwear. I do wear underwear in a pressure suit."
"Well, it's easier for me actually," Frank allowed. By this time April had been scanned once and the room told her to lift her arms level. "I don't have to worry about panty lines and room for differing styles of underwear. Usually, undergarments are your allies, in disguising the problems with your figure. But you don't really have any problems to cover," he admitted. "You have an easy lovely body to work with," It was the oddest sort of compliment, because there was no personal element to it. He didn't seem to find her personally attractive at all.
* * *
"Six sporty outfits is enough for today," April protested later. She'd already claimed one break and wolfed down a few of the petite sandwiches. "I'd also like to have an outfit or two for business and something that would be suitable for a State Dinner."
Frank was fussing, making sure the fit was right across her shoulders and just froze.
"A State Dinner?" Frank raised his eyebrows in alarm. "Who has asked you to a State Dinner? I wish you'd told me at the start. It's not something to be done as an afterthought."
"Msr. Broutin the Foreign Minister of France and possibly the President of the USNA. But I can come back in a day or two, if you'd like to give it some thought. They don't know they're inviting me yet." Frank and Lin just turned and looked a silent question at each other, neither was willing to vocalize.
"I've given it some thought. If you could do something in a plain shape in black silk, but when you get up close it's incredibly complex Boutis Provencal. Perhaps with tiny pearls to match the silk, somewhere in the stitching as a pattern or edge, not just plastered all over in excess. I'd like that, perhaps one in a cream silk too, I have to get away from always being black or white, but you'll have to tell me where to go to buy some suitable jewelry to go with it."
The dress description was so specific he could see it already and he couldn't resist asking of the jewelry, "Any particular sort you'd like there too?"
" I think just diamonds in platinum for the black. But if I'm doing color with the cream, how about topaz, or canary diamonds in gold?"
"Sounds lovely." He agreed. "I'll ask a friend who designs. After I have a sketch of the dress I'll ask him. Jewelry is much more expensive to fabricate than clothing," he explained cautiously. "Could I give him an idea what sort of budget he should constrain himself with?" he asked. April had the sense he hated to bring up money. Certainly nobody had done so about the outfits he had made today.
"I'm not sure. I don't want to do anything too outrageous," she said and Frank's heart fell. "Could I possibly get something worth wearing, that wouldn't look too budgeted for, Oh, four or five million?"
For some reason Franks friend John got the hiccups and had to leave the room.
Lin thought she'd have done better to leave off saying that, until after he had added up the bill for the morning.
They walked out and back at the entry gallery a woman in a skirt, with her dark hair pulled back tight in a bun intercepted them. They had nothing as gauche as a cash register or a check out, but she served that function. Obviously they were not expected to carry their purchases away. She asked April if she'd like to open an account, but her manner said she doubted her worthiness.
"Sure I like Frank. But I live off Earth and I don't know how long I'm staying on holiday. Could I just pay up? I'm used to just beaming cash off my com pad. Can we do that?"
"Most people here use a credit card and just carry a few hundred in digital cash for lunch and such, your bill for today is forty three thousand and Frank asked me to get a ten thousand advance for the time he'll put in designing your gown."
"Is that USNA dollars? April asked. "Yes it is," the lady replied, irritated.
"Phooey," she said. "I have plenty of Euros in this account and a pile of Pa ‘anga," she said showing them the pad, "but no dollars. It takes a little delay to convert more than a few thousand. Let me just give you cash. She reached in her leather carry case that held her com pad and personal items and pulled out a wad of bank notes. She peeled off a stack of Brazilian notes, a few Pa ‘anga and a short stack of Euros which she stuffed back in and got to the USNA paper. She riffled off a bunch of thousands and commented, "I wish they'd circulate ten thousand dollar bills again. They had those years ago." She added a few five hundreds and paused with a five hundred dollar bill in her hand. "Is this lady one of the people we do the tip thing with, you were teaching me?" she asked, Lin in a barely lowered voice.
"No that's just people like the valet, who you might never see again. When you get to a higher level of service, you usually give them a nice gift all at once each year, on Christmas or Ramadan, or something you or they celebrate."
"Thank you," she said, putting the bill back. "Sorry for the bother. I'll get some dollars exchanged in my account, for when I'll be back in a few days and see what Frank has done."
* * *
"I know she was a tremendous pain in the butt," Lin said outside, "But that was one of the meanest tricks I've seen in a long time, waving that bill under her nose and then snatching it back. I almost refused to go along with it and tell you not to tip her."
"It was beautiful though, to imply she was too high up the scale to tip. That it would be equating her with the auto valet. She couldn't very well argue with that." April said with a grin. "It must have simply killed her."
They recovered her truck and April tipped the valet a fifty and Lin chewed here out for over tipping.
"But that's part of what I'm here for," April assured her. "I'm on vacation, but I have an agenda too."
"And are you going to share that with us, or is it a secret?"
"I'm going to share it with you, sitting around the pool, but I haven't swept the truck for bugs since it was out of our control, so I can't say too much right now."
"Papa would so approve," Lin admitted.
"If I'd allowed you to have your man drive, we wouldn't have that problem would we?" April thought aloud. Lin smiled, but didn't feel it necessary to agree with her to rub it in.
Chapter 29
They stopped at an office on the way back and Lin took April in. She didn't understand why they needed the services of a secretary of any sort, like the sign said, but she was patient. Lin got a booklet and sat April down at a seat.
"This tells you all the questions that might come up on a driving license test. Read it right now. Give me your papers and I'll go get an application and number to have you go in."
It was only three pages and most of the questions were obvious to even a satellite dweller. Crap, she thought, most of the questions would have been obvious to a boneless purple mollusk, from another star system instead of a human. When she was called and they gave her the test, she aced it, which surprised no one. Least of all the bored clerk. When they went back out, she sat thinking a little about it.
Using Lin's address and her letter of emancipation, she had a very restricted but legal permit for driver training, in a half hour.
"In Hawaii," Lin informed her, "automatic driving has never been accepted. You can use the systems as a safety backup, but if you drive along reading a book, or with both hands off the wheel you will get ticketed. Same in Arizona and Ontario on the mainland. Other states you can let the car drive from park to park. In New York and California, you don't even need to have a licensed driver on board. You can let the car drive your kids or a blind person. You can have the car drop you off at the airport and send it back home empty. Those states have about three quarters of all the legally blind people now. Pretty much the same in Europe, but cars for the rest of the world may not even have the equipment. You can still own a manual only car here."
"So there are all sorts of people out here driving around on manual," she indicated with a broad sweep of her hand the chaotic mix of heavy traffic, "and all they had to do was get fifteen out of eighteen questions right, that a reasonably intelligent tomato could have answered?"
"You got it," Lin answered.
For the first time since coming to Earth, April was afraid.
* * *
Lin took them in another complex with a very nice décor, nothing at all like the previous one. Again they left the truck and April thought about how often she needed to check it for bugs. She needed a hidden surveillance system that automated the process and told her if anyone messed with it when she came back. When they entered April was surprised the view out the window was the ocean. She hadn't seen it from the other side. It was pretty, the view nice and the dishes and silver very fancy. They had a nice lunch and the food was OK and there was enough of it, but April was disappointed it was three times as much money as Sam's and still not as good. When the meal was almost over, a thin, simply dressed woman, walked up from another table. She was eating here before them and they had not made any reservations, so the meeting had to be chance. She offered a card double handed Japanese style.
"Miss Lewis, I'm Kyrah Armstrong from CNN and I recognized you from a news short yesterday. I wondered, if I offered you my card, if you might spare time for a short phone interview, when it is convenient for you?"
"It's absolutely amazing how different you are, than the mob that was waiting for us at the airport yesterday," April told her honestly, but didn't take the card immediately.
"Well, after you shot the toes off four of them, even the hardest paparazzi is probably going to learn to be a little more circumspect with you. It takes about a year to grow them back right." There was no tone of disapproval there either, she grinned when saying it.
"A phone interview is so cold. Why don't you sit with us briefly before we leave and we'll have a little chat. I can talk around dessert. You're welcome to record if you have equipment. But you should avoid or edit out my luncheon companion, for her privacy."
"Thank you. I didn't want to presume. This is not a public place." She dug in her purse and came up with a public eye. She slapped it on her shoulder and it just stuck. There was no pin or anything. Must be nano-tech, April thought, expensive.
"If you wish to use software to analyze my responses for probability of truthfulness, you are welcome to do so. Just tell the full numbers and what they were run through. It would be nice also, if you point out when any counter statements from others are not verified."
Kyrah's eyes got real big. "I've never met a public figure that had the nerve to do that," she exclaimed. "They all beg off and claim the software is too unreliable and gives false results."
"If that was so they'd have just allowed it to be run and wave the results away as unimportant. They all know you run it, even if you can't tell. The fact is it's so good now, that the only reason it's illegal is because almost all politicians are really ugly lying sons of bitches."
"Almost all?" Kyrah asked suddenly the very skillful interviewer, and thrilled with the hard hitting statement she was getting. "Have you met one you liked? You only pegged out at believing that 98.7% on my software," she said, amused, "which is Bio-Eye by the way."
"I met a fellow, a Msr. Broutin, last year. Since then he has become the Foreign Minister of France. I didn't run software on him like you are, but I'm confident from the wetware between my ears that he is a gentleman. He loves the arts, good food, good company and I would be shocked if he ever knowingly told me a lie. Beats the hell out of me how they ever had the good taste to allow him in public office. Perhaps when he messes up and tells the truth a few times, they'll purge him. I think that's likely what will happen to your own President."
"You mean President Wiggen?"
"Yes. I know quite a few people are unhappy with her. Although the worst of them seem to want her job, which makes me question their motives. But I asked my grandfather what else she was supposed to do? She made the best of a very poor situation. Frankly, if she had not acted as she did, I think at least every other person in North America, half the population, would be dead today. And the rest living in ruins. But where is their gratitude for avoiding that? It amazes me, that individual people I meet here can be so nice. But the public as a whole can be such an ass."
"Quite a few of the opposition candidates say your weapons, though novel, are not as fearsome as President Wiggen suggests, that you mostly took out highly visible targets like bridges. I take it you don't agree?"
"It's a simple cover-up. I sat at a weapons board from orbit and tore apart anti-ballistic missile batteries. I sank aircraft carriers and escorts, including at least one of those secret submersible carriers. I couldn't tell you how many ships in all I sank. We busted up the ballistic missiles right in their silos, after they shot a couple nuclear missiles at us and we busted your deepest mountain bunkers at Cheyenne and Deepwell into gravel. We never even touched the visible targets like bridges, until we did so at the last as a propaganda gesture. By then your military was already shattered. We could have taken out your power grids and data trunks and left your cities full of people without power last winter, but we showed some restraint."
"Wouldn't that have been a war crime to target civilian populations?'
"Tell that to the civilian populations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Or the fire bombings of other big cities that killed as many as the nukes. I studied Japanese History at the University of Kyoto. War crimes are what the losers did. Never the winners."
"How can you say the military was shattered, when we are secure today in our borders and we have the army almost untouched?"
"The Army!" April snorted through her nose. "As if we care what you do down here. We just want to be left alone above the atmosphere. When somebody asked, "Should we take out their armor and ground forces," our commander said, "No, don't do that, or we'll be obligated to defend them from other Earth states if they can't defend themselves. It's only as smart as leaving a police force in place when you conquer a nation, so there isn't chaos. Off course you folks haven't always been smart enough to do that either," She reflected, alluding to the well known chaos the Middle East suffered chronically.
"Tell you what. You can analyze and verify this as a formal statement from me: ‘I have the ability sitting here right now eating my desert, to pull a menu of weapons systems down in my spex and drop a bombardment on the North American continent over the next few hours, that would do what we avoided before - killing half the population of the continent. I wouldn't even have to destroy the power plants, just the transformer yards outside them. People would freeze and starve, before you could make that many big transformers.
"The ugly truth is that most of you folks live in an environment that is just as artificial as the space station I live on. If you put some irrational fool in the White House that doesn't believe that, be it upon your own heads. I'm not saying anything your officials don't know. They've been told, even if they don't pass the warning along. I'm not sure you'll even be allowed to file this story. They might kill it."
"That I assure you won't happen," Kyrah said. "If they attempted to stop this, I'd post it privately."
"Well yes, you could," April admitted. "But privately posted claims are rarely given the confidence the news services get. People privately posted the story we were attacked with nuclear weapons by the US last year and they were dismissed as nut cases."
"So you are asserting that was true? Could you release documentation of that? No one has shown video or eye witnesses to really verify it."
"I'm an eye witness. I saw them on our boards launched from North America and then on radar come back around the curve of the Earth chasing us. Then they blew up far behind our track, well above the atmosphere. But I won't give you video, because it would show who intercepted them and I feel obligated to protect them from your government's wrath."
"Home didn't intercept them?" She asked, genuinely surprised.
"No. We might have succeeded in doing so. Even probably would have. We were starting to try, but we got a little help from a friend with an exotic weapons system we don't have, or know how to build. The world is a far more dangerous place, full of more secrets than your government wants to tell you. But that's all we have time for today Kyrah. Give me that card in your hand and perhaps we'll talk again."
* * *
"That seems to have dispelled the black cloud, that was hanging over your head all morning," Lin said, looking at her funny.
"Yes, working is good for you. I needed to get my mind off my brother for a little bit. It was cycling and cycling the same thoughts and not getting any resolution. I don't think there is any resolution. I can't stay locked in that mental rut forever, like a computer wasting most of its capacity in the background on an endless loop."
"You were suffering from a bit of survivor guilt?" Lin asked gently.
"Very much so. My brother and I had a breach just before I left. I withdrew from doing business with him. But when he died, I was informed he left everything to me in his will. I have to wonder if my words precipitated his crazy risk taking. I couldn't answer my Grandpa what should be done with our business holdings yesterday. I will text him and Eddie, to let them know what to do. I still don't want to have to talk to them about it out loud. I might start crying. We have two new ships that need to be expedited and when they have the courier service covered, my friend Heather needs the Happy Lewis to support a startup she has going."
"Did your leaving the business stress your brother, because you withdrew support he needed to keep the business going?"
"Not at all. I actually just walked away and handed the ownership to him, after he refused six million dollars USNA to buy him out the other way around. I left in place licensing he needed, at no charge for the time being. I'd have worked that out with him too, when I got back."
"Well, that hardly sounds mercenary," Lin scowled. She thought about it a bit before she said more. "I have some years of experience you don't," Lin pointed out. "Not to make too much of a big deal about it, but given what I have seen of human nature over those years, your brother did not suddenly change everything he was doing and rush to his death from one small confrontation with you. I'd say the events that led to his death were months, if not years in the making, even if you never know the details. There were other players and events in this story."
"Yes, you are probably right. At least one of the players was a man named Del, who worked for the yard that services our ships. I didn't like him and worried he was a bad influence on my brother. His boss told me he suppressed his dislike of the man, because he didn't have a solid enough reason to fire him. I very firmly resolve not to make that sort of mistake myself. If I have a gut feeling somebody has character faults, I'm not going to keep them."
"Oh my dear, you are so right. This is a thing my mother taught me, when I was still living at home. If you have a servant who makes you uneasy, you let them go. No apologies needed to them, or the other servants. You may give then a severance or some other help, to make the point you are not harsh, but you move them out completely and don't allow them back on the grounds to socialize, or visit working for a new employer."
"Do you think the interview will get air time?" April asked, when they went back out for their vehicle.
"I don't know," Lin admitted. "It's a little strange to see someone calmly spooning French Vanilla ice cream and telling how they could rain death on you. People know the software just tells you what a person believes. It doesn't tell you if they are correct in that belief. At least some of them will quickly conclude you are just delusional, because they don't want to believe."
‘I'll keep that in mind," April agreed.
* * *
When they got to gravel roads Lin pulled off the edge, flipped off all the warning sensors, walked around and said, "You drive." April strapped in, fired all the systems up and looked down the road both ways. She was as nervous as taking the Happy out the first time. She pulled out slowly and ran it up to the velocity the sign indicated was legal and rolled along. She gave the wheel a little pull right and left and made the truck veer a little inside the lane to get the feel. She looked in her mirror and nobody was behind, so she braked to a stop feeling how it reacted as she pushed harder and harder. They stopped with a little bit of a lurch, but Lin didn't complain. When they started again she gave it a lot more power and the tires spun on the road with a rubbing sound.
When she got to the cross road where Sam's store was, she stopped at the octagonal sign like you're supposed to and turned the wheel to go around the corner. However she found the truck still turning after she was done and ready to go straight. A little frantic wheel turning got them back on track, before they were too deep in the ditch to climb out. The military was gone. Their yellow tape was missing and the fence back in place and the plate across the ditch gone with nothing left to show anything had happened but some matted down grass and tracks. There were trucks again in Sam's lot, now that the military was gone. April just missed trying to join them, by a shortcut across the ditch. Even this big truck probably wouldn't have made it. The ditches here were made to carry major storm runoff and deep.
Chapter 30
Back at the house, Lin led her in a back way April had not seen. Ducking through a greenhouse full of exotic smells and strange shapes, that fascinated April. They ended up on the patio by the pool, without traipsing through the house proper. It was mid-afternoon and Papa-san was on a lounger, with what looked to be a lemonade and a paperback book. He was in shorts and a gauze thin shirt unbuttoned in the front and he looked happy to see them. What was markedly different, was there was a long black weapon lying on a towel beside his chair. The first she'd seen any such equipment in the household. It had a thick heavy barrel and a tiny bore opening. The stock was a dull black composite, with a rough surface to grip and a scope with an enormous front lens. He saw her looking at the rifle.
"We had another drone come hover and I took the liberty of dispatching it since you weren't here. Too bad, because I'd have liked to see the laser engage it."
"Does that mean the military is going to be tramping around on your land?"
"Oh, no. It wasn't military. It was local TV for the Disney Channel. They were even foolish enough to show a little of what it transmitted, before I wrecked it. So my lawyers will be yelling at their lawyers, until they offer a settlement for invasion of privacy. They'll have to, because they were clearly in the wrong by our law."
"We photographed it all and kept a few labels and equipment plates, then my man is taking it all down to an auto wrecker he knows and they will compact the whole thing into a cube about a half meter on a side and we'll send it back to them by freight. They cost about a million and a half for a high end civilian drone like that, so it won't make them too happy. I also had cook give Li a chicken out of the freezer, to put in the middle when they compact it. I thought that would give them a nice message in about four days."
"You are an evil and nasty man and will come to a bad end," Lin predicted.
April suspected it was a formula response, because he didn't even acknowledge it.
"Perhaps I shouldn't hang around too much longer," April told them. "I don't like the idea of making your household a target."
"What are you talking about? I haven't had this much fun in years. Do you have any idea how quiet things have been around here? The help is all excited about having someone that is totally clueless and they can run back and forth swapping gossip about you every day. They've extracted every nugget of new about us long ago. If you need to move on, go, but don't do it as a favor. We're tickled to have company again. You'll probably drag Adzusa off with you and we haven't had her here this long in years."
The sudden change on his face was like a cartoon light bulb went off above his head, as he got a new thought. "In fact," he said, "this is one of the nicest areas you could find in the islands. We researched extensively before buying. If you want to find a little place of your own, to have a vacation home, why don't you take a look around here? You'd make a swell neighbor and it may stay your hand, when you bomb the crap out of North America after the election and we'll come through sweet as can be on the island."
"I take it my CNN interview has been on already?"
"Oh yeah. The talking heads are all yelling at each other. One trying to say it's a bunch of bull and another to start digging a shelter right now. You know, Kyrah posted a veracity percentage for each distinct statement you made and not a one of them fell under 95 %. I predict when you are my age your certainty will drop off a little. But it is refreshing to see right now. And the fact that the experts sitting arguing over your statements both ways, won't allow their statements to be run through the meter is not unnoticed by the public. They have people flooding the mail and phones saying the experts should allow verification, or shut up and go home."
"Excuse me boss, one of Papa's young men came up. We have a UPS truck at the road, wants to deliver packages for Miss Lewis. Is that expected?"
"Yes she went shopping this morning with my wife. Have him off load on a push cart and do a sniffer, a portable x-ray and MNR standard level down there and unpack them for her if it looks OK."
"See what I mean?" April said freshly alarmed. "If you have to do such extraordinary security because I'm here, that's really not good." The idea of them being in danger because of her, just made her stomach twist in knots. She had become attached to all of these people quickly. Not just the family but their help also. How would she feel if they were hurt because someone wanted to get at her?
The young man looked at her funny. "Missy, excuse me, but we do that with everything. I even do the groceries like that when they come," he went off without expecting a reply.
"Ex-spooks got enemies?" she asked.
"Ya just never know," Papa-san admitted.
They sat silent for a little, April sorting that all out and she remembered Lin's invitation to use the pool. It looked mighty inviting right now in the heat of the day.
"Do you wash off before you use the pool just like a bath?" April asked Lin.
"Yes dear, that would be nice of you," she turned to her husband and started telling him about her morning. She stopped when he had a sudden stricken look that she couldn't place.
She looked where he was looking and April had stopped at the chrome shower head that stuck out of the building on the other side of the pool and dropped her clothing in a pile. She was soaping herself up unhurried, doing a very thorough job too. Lin turned back and her husband was biting his thumb back on the big knuckle trying very hard not to smile. He was losing the battle and knew he was in a no win situation with Lin.
"This is my fault," she said quietly, chagrined. "I knew she didn't have any other clothing and never suggested she needed a swim suit and she thinks of us as Japanese, so she knows we have a history of communal bathing. I didn't even add it up when she said none of her friends wear underwear. So I should have figured it out. Damn."
"Thank you," he said simply.
She smacked him over the head with the paperback he had laying there.
"It's nothing we didn't do on the beach with our friends years ago," she admitted. "But what about the help? It can be demeaning to your help to act like it doesn't matter if they see you nude, like their feelings and sensibilities don't matter."
"Actually, the help have been skinny dipping in the pool in the wee hours of the morning, without turning the lights on for a long time. Adzusa will join them if she's home. I just never told you."
"And you didn't join them yourself?"
"I'd never do that without coming and waking you up to join in. And you get cranky when you're woke up." he accused. "They might have been uncomfortable we caught them anyway."
"Oh what the hell," she said and walked around the pool, stripped and started soaping up herself. She was very pleased to see Papa-san was smiling and watching her as much as April.
"House get me a maid on the intercom," Papa-san said.
"Yes sir?"
"Would you please bring a light change of clothing from our guest's room and a change for Mother and put them with towels on the bench by the pool?"
"Certainly," she said unsurprised.
"Thank you, dear."
Chapter 31
"This is a quaint little starter home," the Realtor, Violet, said driving up the gravel access road. "Most of the homes in this area are on large lots and the builders almost always overbuilt, thinking if someone can afford the land they must want a lot of house too. But I understand many people want a smaller, simpler house, that doesn't require a staff. Lord knows I don't want all the headaches and expense of having help. A lot of these houses built back around the turn of the century have disappeared. People would buy two or three of them and consolidate the lots, or just buy one and build a big-foot house on the lot that just leaves enough room around it to maintain the building without any real grounds. And there just aren't many come on the market fee-simple. They're almost all leases."
April had learned a new language in the last few days. She had also been insulted and furious the woman wanted proof she had funds before she would show her homes. She had a hard time believing it wasn't ugly prejudice against her, as a young person and a foreigner. Vi had invited her to call any other Realtor on the islands and ask if it wasn't standard procedure to pre-qualify, but even after she verified it she let the woman know how tacky that seemed to her, standard behavior or no. Vi had been surprised when instead of producing a mortgage commitment letter she just displayed a bank account on her pad to the woman showing she had a bit less than thirty-six million Euro and a handful of other currencies.
She still had that much, because Eddie hadn't reclaimed the funds he'd advanced her to buy Bob out. Lin had come out with her to see a couple places, but Adzusa was with her this afternoon. Quaint worried her. That usually meant obsolete. But at least it wasn't a doll house, or handyman special. She shuddered at the memory of what those had been like.
The road ended in a large looped turn around, that meant the road was a dead end wide enough to park. April didn't mind that. In fact she liked it. Someone was maintaining a landscaped island in the middle of the loop, which April admired. It had that look of a private project instead of commercial landscaping. The road was on top of a ridge and ended where the shoulder of the ridge dropped off. So the view from the mail boxes was magnificent. The houses were all down from the road and hers was right off the end, with neighbors on both sides but the curve of the hill set them back so you had a full hundred and eighty degree view.
The property was terraced, with a garage roof just below the road level, with a very short drive that curved down to it. Below was a sort of artists workshop and below that the main house. Even further, but not visible, hidden by the house was a pool. She had seen it in the photos before they drove up but it was in too close to see behind the house. There were a lot of trees and a few nice palms. The house was sixty years old, but it seemed well maintained. The roof was metal in dark strips with what looked like solar panels between the seams.
"How much is this place?" April asked again.
"It's offered at twelve, two-eighty USNA$," the lady said.
"Is there room to build another terrace below the pool?"
"She pulled a survey map out of her portfolio and looked at it. "You could get a flat of another eight or ten meters if you put a sloped retaining wall right out to the property edge, but what would you want down there, that much of a climb down and back up from the house?"
"I was thinking of a landing pad for an aircar," April told her.
That didn't produce any reaction. A well used Rutan or Daimler aircar cost about two million and flew on four ducted fans with counter rotating props. The older ones had eight engines and the new four, since they were now reliable enough. Old or new they cost a lot to operate. There were a few hundred on the island and probably no more than ten thousand in use in the whole country. If she bought one she'd have it converted to Singh power and do whatever was needed to make it quieter. She'd had a ride in one a couple days ago and it was quietly comfortable inside, but standing watching it come in to land April suspected she knew what a tornado sounded like now.
They made their way in without a bunch of chatter and found a great deal of the house was one huge room that actually hung over the end of the pool, which was larger than she expected from the pics. Adzusa and she unlocked a sliding door and leaned on the rail, looking down on the pool which someone was keeping clean. There weren't even any leaves or debris on the surrounding patio. There was a stiff breeze across the balcony she liked too.
"How long has this been empty?"
Vi checked her pad again. "The widowed lady who lived here died last year. It took awhile for the legal work to allow it on the market. It has actively been back for sale for three months."
"Why hasn't it sold?"
"Of course I don't know for sure, but the heirs want more than has been offered so far. They seem to have the idea prices never go down and that's not true. They peaked about two years ago and it may be awhile before they get back to that level again. The economy is still rather bad due to the recent unpleasantness." That was a close as she'd get to saying war. She was given to using euphemisms for everything. Not just the houses themselves.
"When the economy is doing this poorly, homes above about three or four million just sell very slowly, although the high end homes over thirty million always sell well."
"What is the really top end of the private market?" April asked, curious.
"Oh, a nice large ranch property here, or in an area with rainfall or riparian rights on the mainland can be a quarter billion. A full floor penthouse in Manhattan could be too. I'll certainly never know such a deal. You have to be in the same social circles as the owners, for them to even know you exist. They have different concerns though. People who don't have a dynasty, who don't have vast wealth have different concerns. A lot of people don't want to live on an unpaved road, or this far from town, or the water, no matter what the nature of the house. Some people wouldn't care to live on the hillside. What do you think about the house yourself? That's what really matters, not other people's needs."
"I can see myself relaxing around the pool here, can't you Adzusa? What do you think would have to be done?"
"You have security issues here," Adzusa advised her. "Maybe not those Trillionaire level concerns, but you still need to make it secure. You could fence the pool area. Maybe roof it entirely, or a pool house with a power roof and add security systems and strengthen the doors and windows. I would go down straight under the main house and add a safe room. More than a room really. I'd add a plain old bunker, that would be safe from anything that didn't take the whole ridge down and sleep there at night. And you need a housekeeper that will always be here, instead of leaving it empty for weeks or months at a time. If you put an aircar pad in I'd put it over the garage, so it's almost even with the ridge. Otherwise the wind shear dropping below the ridge could make taking off and landing really hard."
"I need some active defenses too, not just passive. I'm getting a property on the Moon soon and the developer will provide defense, but down here I'll have to do something myself. I can't count on anybody else here for that."
The Realtor Vi really perked up. "I'm not familiar with any Lunar property available. How did you become aware of it?"
"A friend is developing a ranch community and she worked a complicated trade with me to supply transportation in exchange for a property. And support in a broader, well, political sense. I have an interest in space transport services."
"How big are lots on the Moon? They must be substantial if you market them as ranches."
"She is doing twenty-five kilometer square lots as a minimum size. I'm getting one four times that big as a start and may acquire more later. She's developing it as a community, setting aside land for a park, a village square, a university, a space port, public safety and everything you'd expect a community to need and want. Would you like to have her send you information about it? We have no licensing laws that would keep you from being an Earthside agent for her if you're interested and I don't think she has anyone yet."
Vi was very interested.
"Let's walk next door and see if we can meet the neighbors," she told Adzusa. Their agent trotted along too.
The house to the East was similar in age but different in style. It was a traditional Japanese home with the exposed style frame, such as you'd find in the Northern isles. It was set on massive rocks as a foundation, not a man made concrete base. They rang the bell and after a delay a frail older Japanese couple came to the gate. They invited them inside the gate, but not the home. Adzusa's language skills and appearance were a great aid. She translated generalities about the neighborhood and a great deal about the weather that was experienced on the ridge.
They expressed deep regret for the loss of the widow next door. They indicated she kindly sent her housekeeper over frequently to assist them and they sorely missed the help. April thought their grounds looked a bit ratty. Not as neat even as the Realtor kept the vacant home next door. They looked kind of worn too.
She had Adzusa ask plainly, if they had any objection to the young woman they saw becoming the new owner. When they looked at her in surprise, she gave them her best, sincere bow. They were surprised to be asked, saying it was none of their concern, but they'd welcome anyone so polite, as to even think to ask.
When they went to the house on the other side it was more a California house. It would have looked right at home perched on a Malibu hillside. A hand painted sign by the door proclaimed it was Diana's Dump. When the buzzer sounded a voice bellowed, "Coming! Hang on," and after a considerable delay a middle aged woman in a sarong came out with two big glasses of ice water. "You're new ones," she started right in talking to them. "I'm not interested, but I always offer you guys a drink after you've been marching around in the hot sun." She stopped and looked at them harder. "There's three of you and the kid has a gun. You're not Watchtower people are you?"
"I'm Vi with Paradise Properties," the Realtor introduced herself. "I'm showing the home next door to Miss Lewis and she wanted to see what the neighbors were like and see if you had any stories about the area."
"Hi, call me Di," she instructed. "There's not much to tell. Have a cold drink anyhow," she said shoving the glasses at them. "Come on in and I'll get a third." They were taken back inside where a huge Siamese cat looked cross eyed in alarm and fled. The house was furnished in a style April would have called contemporary expensive. She filled two more big glasses with ice and poured water on it from a special tap that was not on the sink. Adzusa got one and she kept one for herself. Instead of inviting them in to sit, she leaned on the island that filled the middle of the kitchen to talk to them. It might have been offensive from somebody else, but her manner made it impossible to take offense.
She pointed out the window further to the West. "The next house is far enough away I never hear a peep from him. Old coot who far as I know has always lived alone. The couple who lived in the house you're looking at moved in after they raised all their kids. Never saw any of the kids. Don't think a one ever came to see their folks. They were quiet. Never saw them throw a party or anything. Then when he died she was even quieter. Hardly ever saw her out, even by the pool. Even when she died, I never saw the kids come to clean anything out. Did any of them come to your office to arrange selling it?" she asked Vi.
"No, as a matter of fact, one is in New York and one of them lives in Australia and we have never met face to face. They seem not at all interested in taking any time, or traveling to see the place sold. They just want it handled from afar, which is fine with us. You'd be surprised how often that is true."
"Well, I'm sure that is legal and proper, but it sure makes you wonder what happened and why they were not close enough to ever come see their own mother and father. Seems kind of sad. So everyone out here on the ridge has been old people. I've been the young one and it's been pretty dead up here. Never have anybody come do burglary or anything. Out on the end of a dead end road it makes for a hard get-away. And all down slope from us is nature preserve and no roads or people. Nice thing about that is it will never change or get built up now and spoil the view. This would have been preserve too, if it hadn't got grand-fathered in."
"Would you have any problem with me as your new neighbor?" April asked her.
"Not if you're old enough to buy it. Truth is you look barely old enough to leave at home without a sitter. How old are you Honey?"
"Miss Lewis is fifteen," Vi said, "but she is from Home and a legal adult. You might consider her the equivalent of an emancipated minor here."
"The girl at the airport," she said snapping her fingers and pointing an extended index finger right at April's face. "You're the one that shot those creeps in the foot and chased them back when they crawled all over you like roaches on a garbage pile. You done good, but next time shoot them right through their filthy villainous little hearts," she urged her.
"You don't care for the paparazzi either?" April inquired.
"Truth is, I doubt if even their mothers can love them. I'd hate to actually work in the same office with them, where you'd have to share the bathroom. They're the carrion eaters of the news food chain. Come by if you buy the place and we'll chat about it. My ex was in the news business, but we divorced and I made sure he gave me the house and a few other things, so he wouldn't feel badly later about how he treated me, no matter how he foolishly felt at the time. It was the least I could do," she assured April. "None of my husbands had that cause for remorse after we parted."
"I'll do that if I do buy it," April assured her. "I haven't made an offer yet."
Something about how she phrased it made Vi look very happy.
April turned to leave and froze. In the corner, right next to the door that was her exit, was the biggest dog she had ever seen. It made her hair stand up on her neck, to think this thing had been sitting there behind her all the time they were talking. She must have walked right past it coming in. It was entirely black and even seated its head came up past her waist. The only thing that kept her from reaching for a weapon, was the huge thing was as calm and unconcerned as could be. She was terrified of it.
"Hey, loosen up girl," Di said gently, stepping up beside her and slipping an arm around her shoulders. "I've fed him today. He won't pull you down for a snack," she joked. It didn't seem very funny to April.
"I'm sorry," she finally got composed enough to say. "I've seen a couple small dogs, but never anything like this. And it doesn't bark like the others. It's bigger than me."
"Oh for sure," Di agreed. "He was a little under sixty-six kilo' the last time I weighed him. He'll bark too, but he isn't one to speak unless he has something to say. I can't abide yappy little dogs, that make a mess of themselves all the time over nothing. Don't be afraid. He wouldn't harm a hair of your head unless he saw you hurting me, or I told him. 'Ele-'ele here," she instructed and pointed at the floor in front of them. He rose and walked to his mistress and when no other instruction was forthcoming decided it might be awhile and sat watching her for commands.
"What kind of dog is he?" April wanted to know. The huge head turned and regarded her with wet intelligent eyes. He had something the terrier at her grandfather's house hadn't, dignity.
"Ele-'ele is a Newfoundland. Hawaii is a bit warm for him, but I keep the pool pretty cool and he jumps in anytime he wants. He loves to swim. He would fill out his undercoat if we lived in a cold climate and he could swim in water with ice floating in it and be as happy as can be. Offer your hand to give him your scent, if you aren't too scared. He'll make friends fine seeing us together like this."
"What if you weren't here?" April asked; finally calm enough to offer her hand. He examined it with a barely audible snuffle.
"Well, I think you can probably understand," Di allowed, "just like you didn't like the paparazzi pushing in your face at the airport, 'Ele-'ele here is very territorial. Somebody comes uninvited to the fenced in area out back, he is going to object."
"Would it offend him to be petted or is that only for little dogs?" April wondered.
"No, that's fine. Talk to him a bit and use his name too. If you become my neighbor, it's better if he knows you."
April tentatively stroked across the top of the big head and quietly apologized to him for being afraid. He wasn't needy like the other dogs she had seen and just accepted her praise as his due. She was surprised to find she had to reexamine her opinions on dogs now.
* * *
When they left, April thought Di was much happier with her than had been the case at first sight. That was a plus if they were going to be neighbors. They went back to the offered house and walked through again. Vi had that alert quiet look that a fisherman has, after he has seen the bobber make one small dip and is waiting for the strike.
"Twelve million something?" April said, as if she couldn't remember exactly what she had said. "I'm making an offer to your clients. Tell them ten even and see what they say."
To her surprise Vi shook her head no and silently gave her a repeatedly down jabbed thumb, like a Roman emperor delivering a decision of doom.
"I can't say anything as their agent," she explained her silence, "but your neighbor is very perceptive and I was trying to sell the house for the widow before she died. I have continued for the kids after she passed. And they are a couple selfish oafs, who were too busy to come see the old girl when she asked. They couldn't even come for the father's funeral. It tore me up to see the way it took the heart out of the old woman. They don't deserve anything, but for sure nothing extra. And you're offering to hook me up with your Lunar friend and didn't even mention a kickback first thing. So you seem to be a decent kid." But she didn't go so far as to name a different number.
"Do you think eight-seven-hundred would not be taken as an insult?" she asked.
"Let's find out," she told them. "They're willing to accept offers live, anytime of the day. One is in New York and one in Australia, so it's never a good time for both of them. But they are so happy having that much distance between them, I may be able to sell one a Lunar ranch, just to move ‘em a little further apart." She sat composing it as a text message, instead of voice and transmitted it. "Now we wait a minute, while they call each other and decide who will be blamed latter for accepting it," she predicted. "One will demand they ask for more and the other will say it'll be your fault if they won't take a counter. So the risk of blame will be even and they'll say OK. It's like a script. I know because I have a sister too."
In just a moment her pad chimed. It was a heavy printing model and started scrolling out a document. But she read it off the screen first and said, "Congratulations. You are now a proud new home owner. Subject to taxes, cyclones and crabgrass. May God have mercy on you."
* * *
On the way back April asked Adzusa, "Do you think Papa-san could recommend someone to be a caretaker in the house? I'd like to get someone in there after the closing is filed with the county tomorrow and we get possession. I suspect there are a whole bunch of things I need to do that I'm not aware of. I'd like to have some furniture in there that is wood, because we have all metal and plastic in Home. I saw something called Mission style. I'd like that and some stained glass and my friend Sylvia has a big Oriental rug. I'd like one of those too."
"Your instincts are right to have him ask. Li has a zillion cousins and we can get somebody reliable. I'll take you to something called a design center, that can help you pick the stuff for in the house. But first you need a good security system being installed there tomorrow and a contractor looking to upgrade the security aspects including designing a hidey hole basement."
"If we go in town to the design center I need to go by and see what Frank has for me and OK it or nix it. When we get the housekeeper they should be Japanese and I want him to also go next door and do some yard work and clean up for the old couple. If they object he should tell them his mistress will be upset with him if he doesn't. I want him also to stop and give them a ten grand gift certificate for a local grocer that delivers and thank them profusely for their kindness in advising me. It should be in a fancy card and envelope and he should apologize for its inadequate nature. You know the drill don't you?"
"Yeah, they did look a little thin and frayed around the edges. Think they're having a hard time making it in their long time home and would hate to leave?"
"Nah, they're just dieting and haven't noticed he needs new trousers."
Chapter 32
By late afternoon they were back with Adzusa's parents at the table by the pool. They seemed to pretty much live out there, instead of in the house. Given the climate and the comfort level around their pool, she couldn't blame them. They had related their adventures and called Li, who admitted he had many worthy relatives, but the other young man Papa employed had a particularly good brother for the job, who was in need of employment which would leave him time for his university studies. The rest of the needs such as installing and upgrading systems Papa-san's own sources would take care of for her and there would be no copies of blueprints and schematics, laying around some contractor's office for prying eyes.
"It's been a week since I got the airport footage out of you and you gave away that interview to CNN, instead of your gracious hosts. If you can't shoot someone, or destroy public property for a quick story, could you at least tell us what your mysterious agenda is you promised to reveal in time and have been avoiding?"
"Well, part of it has been to create a fuss, so it is time to go stir things again. We demanded these concessions from North America and then didn't use them except at the other orbital territories like ISSII and New Las Vegas. To us that mattered, but I guess down here it was like - invisible. We'd like to make the point we did get a surrender and we do expect the terms to be met. We didn't set it up to be violated and ignore it. There will be a price if it's ignored."
"And we started this whole thing over travel rights and we have information they are ignoring it. The fuss at New Las Vegas that National Geographic caught on video, was because they were getting ready to snatch a man traveling to Home, when they knew the terms of surrender call for free travel to Home. We left NLV with our weapons systems active and no flight plan filed, which is the first time we've done that since the incident where we shot up ISSII. So maybe that helped tell them we're serious."
Adzusa spoke up, "I didn't want to worry you," she told her parents, "but when we came into the airport they evacuated the whole wing of the building where we got off the shuttle. As they were escorting us out through the empty building I expressed the fear to April, that they were going to snatch us right there. She told me she had tasked her defense system to bombard the area, if they cut her off from contact. I'm still not sure if we would have gotten out of there without that threat. That was about as afraid as I have ever been in my life. I thought if I was stuffed in a Homeland Security van, you'd never know what had happened to me."
"I stretched the envelope of the truth there," April admitted. "If I had lost all contact, that would have happened. If say they killed us suddenly. I knew you a lot less then than I feel I do now, just a few days later, so I wasn't telling you as much as I will now. I have my com pad plugged into the power pack of my pistol when I'm wearing both. It has a lot of power available. And if I get cut off from the regular information pathway through public wireless, it will activate a direct satellite connection with my pad. It's on a frequency that's not usually used that way and it would take an awful lot of sophisticated jamming to cut me off, even if they quickly discover the connection."
"You might also be surprised how persuasive your old man could be if you were disappeared," Papa-san growled. "If you disappeared I still know who really runs things and two can play that snatch game. I could put the fear in some of those executive types, they're not used to feeling." April didn't doubt him at all.
"What can you pull down with those spex?" Papa asked.
"We've been pumping out a lot of small simple stealth sats. Nothing all that exotic. None of the special weapon we used in the war. We won't deploy those in an unmanned sat. But lots of small kinetic weapons that can be terminal guided to within about a meter and hit about like a ton of explosives. And a fair number of vehicles, that will deliver a small warhead up to about ten kiloton. The guy who invented most of our advanced tech, said he could use the explosive devices we have to compress fusibles, to make an H-bomb without needing a fission trigger. But really big weapons are inefficient and hard to justify. We decided not to make them for the militia, unless we need to go straight to having a continent buster."
"A decision I applaud," Papa-san said seriously.
"One of the reasons I can afford to do this trip, is Eddie Persico who is one of my business partners funded me to come down. He is in the position where if we go to war again, he will lose an obscene amount of money, because a huge chunk of his wealth is tied up in Earth securities. So I'm also helping a business partner, besides the other obvious benefits of avoiding war. If we fight again, he will be in the crazy position of fighting in the Home militia, bombarding the assets that underwrite his own fortune. So he considers it an investment to forestall a full war again."
"We had breakfast just before I came down and chatted. He just can't move the most part of his money anywhere fast enough, it wouldn't be huge disaster. But he warned me I may be hassled down here for associating with him. He indicated that he would be a ‘tainting' association, if anyone made the connection."
"Why would anyone care about that April?" Papa-san asked. "Why would he be viewed any worse than all the rest of you who rebelled?"
"To make a big long story short, he told me his family is all Mafia."
Papa-san rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Just when I think you can't get any stranger or outrageous, you throw a new card on the table."
"But another thing I came down for is a rescue." She sighed. "I seem to be stuck in the rescue business. We rescued the Doctors Singh from ISSII and Don Adams from NLV when he couldn't get through to Home. Now there are two fellows who want to come to Home and doubt they can get on a shuttle. They committed acts they feel are so unforgivable they need an escort, so I'll try to do that for them."
"What did they do that's so unforgivable?" Lin asked.
"When we destroyed the Deepwell bunker complex it West Virginia President Hadley was there. He was extracted from the bunker before it collapsed and taken to safety by two naval lieutenants. Then after they saved him he appeared to be off his nut pretty much and ordered them summarily executed for laying hands on him to save him. They say that was how he was operating the last few weeks. He had sent all sorts of officials and officers to prison or firing squad by simple decree."
"That would explain a lot of strange things," Papa-san admitted. "So these two know too much about what happened and have to get out?"
"Well, yeah. They know way too much - let me make it clearer - they are the two lieutenants. When they tried to disarm them and put them before a firing squad to execute them, they turned the tables and engaged the Presidential detail in a gun battle. They shot them down, including the President himself."
"Wow. This hasn't happened since Kennedy. The government knows about these two?"
"They seemed to assume they do. They didn't tell us the circumstances why."
"I want an interview with these guys when you spring them," Adzusa demanded.
"Well you'll have to wait ‘til I get them to Home, or come to Maine with me," April offered. "We have rendezvous set at certain sites and times, but it would sure be a big help to have an Earth savvy guide. My first possible contact for them isn't for over three weeks still, so I have plenty of time to make mischief here."
"Just in case something happens to you, I would be willing to help your young men. You don't even have to tell me now when and where to contact them. Just set it up so I get told, if you can't be there yourself," Papa offered.
That's very kind," she thanked Papa.. "I'll think about how to do that."
"So, I have been neglecting you," She admitted to Adzusa. "How about if we do an interview in my new house? I'd like to call Kyrah and do another piece with CNN and I won't feel so bad if I give you a nicer story with more human interest. Wait ‘til the design center has all the new stuff in and it looks nice."
The piece when they finished it was a success. It showed April sitting in the enormous great room of her new home. She had furnished it simply and tastefully with, the ultimate effect that it deliberately looked almost empty. After the crowded look even the biggest cubic on Home took on, it was a nice change. The camera view over her shoulder was of a few palms on each side of the pool, framing a panoramic view of forest preserve slopping away to the sea. Even the day cooperated, with a steady supply of gorgeous cumulus clouds scurrying across a blue sky. Adzusa feed her a steady line of questions, designed to allow her to describe life on Home. She made much of how she loved to share a cafeteria breakfast with friends and how many new emigrants and entrepreneurs were coming to Home. She was a one woman chamber of commerce, without a lot of threatening facts about the war or current relations in this interview. But Adzusa insisted it wasn't a fluff piece.
* * *
A new phenomena appeared that was strange and embarrassed April. She already had to deal with a few individuals who saw her on the news last year becoming obsessed with her. Now a handful of trend setting teenagers in California started copying the black and white outfits April wore, complete with a holstered toy laser pistol, which had the bright muzzle that marked it as a toy. At first it was a few bellwether girls, but within days a number of boys were sporting the look, which was quickly described as androgynous.
That shifted April's response from embarrassed to irritated, because she didn't feel she looked androgynous. Just because she wasn't full figured and didn't wear makeup, was no reason to insult her. She was fifteen for crying out loud, well almost and spacers didn't favor heavy makeup or stinkum. The whole trend had taken hold and was unstoppable, before April even saw a news program detailing it.
Then several fashion houses, that specialized in riding quick fads and doing knock-offs, started producing the outfits commercially. The pistol was sometimes a water pistol and one inspired manufacturer made their version into a cologne dispenser. Soon there were a thousand clones of April lounging the benches at the better malls and irritating their parents and security officers. Some cities started changing their laws within days of the trend being publicized, to prohibit display of toy weapons, that had been legal for a long time with the addition of the bright identifying color on the muzzle. It was presented as a safety issue, but it was obviously a political statement that was being banned. Nothing favorable to Home could be tolerated now and any mimicry appeared favorable.
A few manufacturers quickly got around the prohibition by silk screening the image of a laser pistol directly on the outfit. Some were cute, looking like they were tucked in the waist band. Since court rulings favored public images as a form of political speech, it was hard to ban. But wearing them was risky since it could cause security personnel to find some other problem to hassle you. Of course that made it even more attractive to many teens. At least it was just the sporty stuff she had made and wore already they copied. The dressy stuff that was almost done she thought was still confidential, until she wore it in public.
Chapter 33
Kyrah from CNN was eager to set up another interview. This time she suggested a more formal interview, in a local studio. April would have to go all the way into Honolulu for that. She asked if April would be interested in speaking for the audience, with someone actively seeking the presidential nomination, to replace President Wiggen. That sounded as confrontational as it could be and that's what April was here for, confrontation, so she accepted.
"So, who are they going to have on with you?" Papa-san asked later.
"Preston Harrison, Kyrah said he is an early declared candidate for the presidency. I assume he is opposed to peace with Home, since I don't think anyone but Wiggen is for it."
"Yes," he admitted looking strangely at her, "he is opposed. He's the Patriot party candidate. You can't get more opposed than that. You haven't studied up on the possible candidates seeking nomination and their positions have you?"
"No, it seemed like they all are pretty much the same, except some advocate quick action and others are willing to go slower, but they all want to discard the terms of surrender."
"I'll have Adzusa get together a few of his news shorts. Kyrah will probably be happy to help her, not only as a colleague, but it will make for a better interview if you are prepared."
* * *
April went shopping for household things like towels and kitchen equipment. The superficial things like a fresh coat of paint were done at her new place and the really serious work of improvement would be going on long after she had gone home. Especially the heavier things, like tunneling a new sub-basement. Neither Lin nor Adzusa was free to go shopping and Papa worried about her, so she took along his man Li.
She had seen Lin coming in a few times from a morning run. When she had asked about running at their property Papa-san had begged her not to, because they had little control or security on the perimeter, where Li and others of the staff ran. She asked why then, wasn't he worried about Li being in danger? He very reasonably pointed out Li was not a celebrity or a target. It was infuriatingly logical.
After they went shopping they drove out of town along the coast, stopping at a little town that had a simple lunch place. Li had a very light lunch, but April had her usual. They were sitting on the shaded deck. The dinner was on the inland side of the road, but you could see the beach behind the buildings across the street and see it curving away into the distance, with a few tiny figures moving along it. April remembered how she had run on a virtual beach in the gym at home and craved experiencing the real thing.
"You run every morning don't you Li? How far do you go?"
"I go five to six kilometers every morning and then every three or four days I go further." He didn't mention he did Triathlons, or the diving and free weight work.
"If we go down on the beach there can we run along for a good long way? Would anyone say anything, if we leave the truck in the parking lot for awhile?"
"No, but you haven't ran in some time, you just ate a lunch that would have put me on the sofa to sleep it off for a couple hours and the heat is peaking out for the day. Are you sure it won't be too much?"
"I run a bit on the treadmill every evening and I take some medication that enhances the training effect of the workout. That's just a normal lunch for me. Are you game?" she prodded.
Li looked at the stretch and thought a moment, before he nodded yes.
The real beach was much different than the virtual beach. For one thing it sloped. In the virtual beach the gym on Home produced it had been flat and she had never given it any thought how false that was. In reality even the very slight cross slope was quickly a strain to run across. The stride on the uphill side was shorter. The sand had a narrow band suitable for running. Too far away from the water and it was too dry and yielded too easily under your foot. Too far into the water and the grains were somewhat suspended by the water and yielded to the impact of the foot. That was even worse than the dry, because it seemed to want to grab the foot and keep it.
The correct path took them through a hard narrow corridor, that was wet but drained, near the water's edge. Occasional waves would slide up the sand into the band, almost exhausted but for a foamy finger's depth. The shore birds would start to run from them, then lift away with a vocal protest, when they saw running was not going to take them far enough away.
The wind off the surf was strong and steady and the salt mist seemed able to roll under her spex even and irritate her eyes, but it smelled wonderful. She got in a steady rhythm and felt that exhilaration that comes when the body channels its resources to the task and the flood of dopamine in the brain releases a cocktail of peptides. It was a runner's high. She was aware of the need to restrain herself because of the modifications Jerry had done on her. So she was monitoring herself carefully under the umbrella of euphoria, looking for problems with pain or coordination.
It was the calm core of a race driver, glancing at his gauges as the track blurred by. It didn't spoil the thrill of the ride. Li was still behind her. She could hear his feet in cadence with hers. His stride was almost identical. But she was surprised when he gasped out a single word. "Road!" he called out and she looked up at the highway, now unobstructed by buildings. A car was running parallel with them. A big convertible with the top down and a fellow following them with an expensive professional video rig from the back seat. The driver never looked over keeping his attention on the road, but a man in the passenger seat waved at them friendly with a hat and April waved back. They didn't seem any danger. They kept running until the road curved away and Li gasped out another word finally, "Stop."
April smoothly brought it down from a full run to a walk and pulled back beside Li. He was gasping desperately and staggering. April slipped an arm under his, concerned now and got him to put some weight on her shoulders.
"Just lean on me and walk a bit. If you just stop you'll cramp all up. You should have said something earlier. I'd have eased off whenever you needed."
"I wanted to get where the road turned away," he gasped. He breathed a little before he could continue. "I didn't want to stop where the newsies could come down and bother you."
"Wouldn't have bothered me. I could have just turned around and run back, so they couldn't interview me if I kept moving."
He had a panicked look. "You - could - run - back?" he breathed. "All - the - way - to the truck?" he wheezed.
She nodded a yes. "I can run back now and get the truck, if you'd rather not walk back," she offered, not breathing hard at all.
"Please, no. Papa-san would kill me. I'm supposed to guard you."
Yeah, right, April thought, but said nothing as he walked along leaning on her and slowly regaining a steady gait as the shimmy in his legs eased off.
The local station showed an unusually long clip of her running that night. The whole point of showing it would be lost if it didn't run long enough to make the viewers start to wander when she was going to falter from the pace. So since they needed commentary they filled the time with a very nice verbal review of her other public appearances. Opening an occasional smaller window to show some earlier video clip. Even someone not a runner could see the power with which she maintained a pace, that would have quickly exhausted someone else. The loose easy stride, with the trailing foot almost hitting her butt, as her hips turned to throw the leading foot stretched way out front, with a floating gait like a hurdler. It was as graceful as a thoroughbred running and ate up ground. Her arms were swinging loose with the hand not bunched in pumping fists, but cupped lightly so they looked more like they were helping her swim through the air.
It also made hatred well up in the hearts of some that correctly guessed the pace was a sign of gene mod advantage. When she passed a few other runners on the beach the contrast made it look like a cantering horse passing a trotter. Every once in awhile the camera would pan back enough to show Li running with power, but nowhere near April's grace just behind. When a few runners going the other direction passed the combined velocity made them a blur, as the camera stayed panned on her.
Li sat in bed propped up, sucking on ice and watched himself on TV following. When they had gone down to the beach he had secretly planned to run her into the ground to teach her just a little humility, since he had downplayed his training level. Reviewing the whole thing now he was frightened to realize he had foolishly come close to harming himself, pushing to keep up at the end. He doubted if he would ever set a pace again, equal to what he had done today. He was happy that at least on camera, he looked like he could match April. It didn't show his faltering at the end, so his friends wouldn't be razzing him.
* * *
After dinner Papa-san invited April into his study for the first time, to see the news clips he had assembled for her on Preston Harrison. He also had samples of the man's fund raising ads and e-mails sent to potential supporters. He didn't seek any information from his old security contacts. He didn't see what use that depth of information would be to her. He showed it all to April, but refrained from commenting until she had seen them all.
"I just have a hard time believing anyone takes this man seriously. He asserts all sorts of things, but never presents anything to support what he believes. Basically he says we are not the sort of people he likes. We are not religious enough and don't support what he sees as the common good. We buy medical care for ourselves that others can't afford, or is illegal. Yet it's the government’s regulations and decisions, that prohibit or refuse to pay for the care he is talking about. He never is clear if he thinks life extension is wrong, or if it's just wrong for us to buy it if everyone can't have it. I'm not sure he's even clear on that in his own mind. Well, if we don't care to be robbed of our wealth, to have it distributed to everyone else, I suppose that means we don't support the common good."
"I bet he doesn't actually know a single person on Home, but has loads of opinions about all of us. Like we are all the same. And he refuses to believe what the government says about the damage they received fighting us. Since the government won't release casualty lists I can understand where he is coming from on that. They hid much of the physical damage behind national security also. But what about the public damage we did to bridges and monuments? Does he think that is somehow faked? I'll offer to show him our video logs off our ships. They at least show the scale of damage inflicted."
"You can try, but don't be surprised if he is very unresponsive. And be cautious. He's a current official with Homeland Security and he hates you and everyone else connected with Home. I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to goad you into threatening him personally, to give him an excuse to try to harm you. And he is a declared candidate for the Presidency, so he has a Navel protection detail, as well as his own Homeland Security guards. Given his position, I'm sure he knows how exactly how much damage was inflicted. He is deeply dishonest to serve his political position."
When the time for the interview came April insisted on going alone. Adzusa in particular was insistent on accompanying her, throwing out a bunch of arguments.
"You aren't legal to drive alone!" She reminded April in desperation. That gave April more pause than all the other arguments. She was pretty solid about following rules if they were sensible, not just bureaucratic.
"What is the penalty for driving unsupervised?" she asked.
"It's a moving violation. Two points on your record and probably five hundred dollars."
"I'll risk it," she said amused.
"Do you remember how scared you were in the airport?" April reminded her. "I have a bad feeling about this man. I don't want you or anybody I care about with me, because I'd be more worried about you and getting you out safe than myself. I just want to be alone so all I have to worry about is myself. I can think of all kinds of mind games this creep might try. If you are along he might try to arrest you and cart you off from under my nose, to get at me."
"Here, I want to loan you something." April took her in her room and showed her the light suit of Lunar chameleon armor and the fold up carbine. "If I stir up something that comes back on you guys here, protect your family, OK?"
"I don't think you know my Dad yet, if you think I'm going to protect him, but yeah, I will do anything I can. Thank you, April."
"Good, I'll worry less."
Chapter 34
When she drove down to the studio in mid-morning, her driving was much improved from the first time. She went straight to the studio and then spiraled out from the building until she found a lot two blocks away, with a few empty spots. When she pulled in the attendant came up to her window from a little lot shack.
"I'm sorry this is monthly parking only." he said, pointing to a sign declaring that.
"How much for a month then?" she said thinking that would be a form of camouflage.
"It's six-twenty a month for outside-mix in, twelve hour max, or eight-fifty a month for an always open private slot, but we don't have any openings right now. It's been running about a three month wait to get in."
"I'd like on the list, but I need a space today. I'll give you a thousand cash right now just for today, but I need it parked right now and I need it open to leave when I come back, not stuck in the back somewhere." She was holding a single bill out the window folded in her hand, with just the corner showing."
He looked at it hungrily and his eyes tracked around like he wanted to look over his shoulder.
"They got me on surveillance cameras working here," he explained. "I got a guy I know is out of town who won't use his space, but I have to have you hand me a spare business card. We give the renters some cards that are a pass for friends or family to use his space. You show me a card like I'm checking it out for the camera and I'll shake hands with you. Then you can put it in 3-H and you have to have it out by the morning when the boss comes around."
"That's no problem," April assured him. "I'll be out in a couple hours." She fished a CNN card for Kyrah out of her com case and handed it to him. He went through the motions of reading it and handing it back, then pointed which way to turn and how to get to the space. She leaned out a little and offered her hand. He gave it an exaggerated pump and palmed the bill as slick as could be. She called Adzusa and let her know where the truck was, just in case she had any problems. She was that nervous.
The walk to the studio was uneventful. Nobody took any special note of her on the street. She stopped at the front door and took a GPS reading off her spex and saved it before she went in. The guard at the front desk looked over her shoulder when she walked up, like he was wondering where the car was that dropped her off. But she was on the list and was given an ID badge and was escorted in promptly. She thought there might be a problem with her weapons, but the guard didn't bat an eye.
They went down a long hall that reminded April of the corridors at home. Part way they passed a door flanked by two beefy security types, who gave them a fish eyed stare. That's probably my fellow guest in there, she thought. She felt weird enough about them she fired up her rear looking cameras on her spex and looked at the guards as she went on down the hall. She decided to leave the cameras on.
"I see you didn't wear any makeup," the young woman escorting her gushed. "I'm Lois, one of Kyrah's helpers. We have just a minimal makeup for the cameras we'd like to put on if that's OK. It isn't as important as it used to be years ago, but it still helps. If you just have to go with a mix on the video editor you can look strange, too pale or too flushed. Is that OK? Do you have any allergies we should be aware of?"
"To the makeup?" April asked. "Not that I'm aware of but I just don't know. I never use it. I don't have any other unusual chemical sensitivities, so we should be OK."
"You are young enough to get away with that," she said smiling. "I need a little help," she said like it was a confidence. She only looked to be in her mid twenties. April thought about Sylvia and her mom. Neither of them wore any cosmetics and nobody thought it odd. And perfume on a space habitat was generally considered an invasion of other's space. In closed quarters and with recirculated air it could be very unwelcome. They got to another door simply marked with a number plaque beside it on the wall and Lois went in holding the door for her.
"We have about a half hour. There is a private restroom through the door there," she said nodding. "I'm supposed to get anything you need and answer any question I can and just generally make you comfortable." She did seem to have the skill of making someone feel important. She gave her guest undivided attention.
April made herself at home. There was a large firm sofa where she could see the door, but was behind it when it opened.
"If you have coffee I'd appreciate some, just black. I'm very safety conscious. So can you tell me where we'll be going to meet Kyrah and where there is a fire exit, if we should ever need to leave the building?"
"The studios are just a bit further down the hall. There's four of them and we're in number three. There's a hallway that goes around each studio from this hall and it has an exit light over the door and at the far end there's an exit into the hall from the back corner of the studio and a stairwell that comes down there from above. It's just a normal big office building. Nothing very special and pretty safe. I don't think we've ever had a fire, or anything happen that people had to leave. They always tell you in the news, that you should look and see where the fire exits are in a hotel when you get a room, but honestly when I drag in late at night and am whipped and ready to drop in bed, it's the furthest thing from my mind."
"What's on the far side of the studios?" April wondered.
"There's more rooms like this but instead of equipment and dressing rooms, they are offices for producers and technicians. Then above in the next floor there are viewing, rooms looking out on the stages and mixer and techie rooms," she volunteered. "The cooperate offices start above that and it all goes up until you have the executives and some private penthouses on the eighth floor. They look out on the two private parking courtyards. That's what the fire doors open on, not out on the public street."
"They have private entries there off the lot and an elevator up from the back of the studios and a private viewing room off the second floor looking out on the studios, to watch the action. Of course people like me have to park off site and walk in. But the big wheels pull inside the gates and they bring celebrities and entertainers in that way to keep things private. Somebody should have told you could have your driver drop you off there, instead of out front. I was surprised when they called me to the front entry."
The door opened and a cart was pushed in with coffee. Lois had not spoken to anyone to get it, unless it was coming anyway, so April suddenly realized there must be others, perhaps Kyrah too, listening to their conversation. Besides making her comfortable Lois might also want to draw her out and help prep the producer to her mood. Maybe even ask some leading questions before they started.
April realized she could just as easily prep Kyrah by what she said if she was listening. Behind the cart and waiter, was a woman in a maroon smock, who wheeled another cart over that was sitting in the corner of the room. She introduced herself as the makeup technician and got a damp astringent wipe with which to gently wipe April's face. After wiping from hairline down to a cloth she tucked in April's collar she got out a instrument of some sort and took a reading on her skin. Then she choose a plastic case from a number of them and dabbed powder on with a large round brush that was incredibly soft.
"There now you won't have any shiny spots under the lights. Do you want anything more on your lips or eyebrows, or do you usually go au natural?"
"What they see is what they get," April told her. She started packing her tools back up without any argument. The coffee was pretty good.
Lois took a cup too but April noticed she didn't seem to really drink it, after taking a single sip. She was a master at making you feel comfortable.
"You seem pretty relaxed," she allowed. "You've been interviewed before, right?"
"Kyrah interviewed me at lunch one day, at the Beach View Breakfast Club. And I just bought a vacation home and Adzusa Satos interviewed me there quite recently. I like a scheduled interview better than having someone mob me at the airport gate, or like happened yesterday, a car paced me along the beach when I was running and took video. But I understand. I've sold video myself. About a year ago I had my brother sell some video to the BBC, for myself and my ship mates."
"Is your brother a media person then?" Lois asked.
"He was something of an entrepreneur, trying all sorts of different businesses," April said. "But he got involved in something just a few days ago and we'll probably never know exactly what happened, but we believe he died in Lunar orbit, with the destruction of the ship Home Boy ."
"I'm sorry I didn't know," Lois said. They sat in silence for a moment.
"I saw that footage you are talking about of you running on the beach. The fellow that was running with you seemed strained to keep up. Is he a boy friend, or just an acquaintance?"
"He's a nice fellow, but he's actually just security on loan. A bodyguard my host here sent with me, to go along on a shopping trip. The stop to run after lunch was spur of the moment."
"Your host not only has staff, but enough he can loan them out? Sounds like an impressive household."
"They are nice. And down to Earth even if they do seem well to do," April smiled at the irony of that expression she had picked up. It was not an idiom she heard used on Home and wouldn't have a favorable connotation, if it was used there she was sure.
"So you aren't moving to Hawaii? You just got a vacation home to visit occasionally?"
"Yes. I'm going to the mainland and possibly Europe this trip, but I like it here. I've been here before, when down to visit my grandparents in Australia and knew I liked it. I suppose I'll loan it to friends who want to come down also."
"So you didn't get a time share? You have full ownership?"
"I'm not even familiar with how time shares work, though I've heard of them. I got a little place on the windward side up on a ridge. It has a nice view, although I have to redo a great deal for security.
Lois, who was thinking in terms of high rise beach condos and efficiency apartments, suddenly realized she was in a different league here. She shared a seventy square meter efficiency with another young woman and her roomie worked two jobs to make ends meet. She wanted to draw April out, because Kyrah was listening and this sounded interesting. "So you're not down by the beach, like most people want to be. Tell me what your place is like."
"It's on the lee slope. It's pretty steep so it's terraced. There's a garage just below the ridge road and a sort of artists workshop below that and then the main house. The House has one really big room. The Realtor called it a great room, which makes sense. The other rooms aren't that big supposedly, but they seem enormous to a satellite dweller and the house kind of hangs over the pool. There are trees and a few palms each side of the pool and bunches of bushes and flowers. I'm trying to decide if I should turn the artist's workshop into a caretaker's place, or make a separate entry for him at the rear of the house. I'd like an landing pad somewhere for an aircar too. Here, let me show you a couple pics of it off my pad," she pulled a couple views up she had taken last time she was there and shared them.
"That's a big lot for Hawaii," Lois informed her.
"Really? It's only a couple hundred meters deep," April pointed out. "I'm getting a lot on Luna soon, near the equator and it will be fifty kilometers on a side. Of course it won't have anything on it. I'll have to build whatever goes on it eventually, from scratch."
"Fifty kilometers on a side? That's like the size of Maui. The whole thing," Lois exaggerated. "Well, almost."
"Yes but it's a lot less interesting. It is just rock and regolith and lots of sunshine. No water, no air, but you will have a spectacular view when you have Earthrise."
"Now was a good time to buy," Lois said, fishing a little. "They keep saying in the local paper, that prices of properties are down."
"Probably. This one was offered before, for about three and a half more than what I got it for," she admitted.
"Three and a half?"
"Yeah. Dollars not Euros. I keep my accounts in Euros mostly and it's a pain to convert them to buy something."
Lois was pretty sure she meant millions. What else could it be? Three and a half what? But she was determined not to ask right out. Looking at the pics, she had no idea what a house like that went for now. She'd leave that to Kyrah.
"Let me duck in and use the restroom before we have to go in," she requested. When she got in there she pulled up a satellite schedule and made satellite reservations to keep a view of her area and this specific building loading to her spex. She plugged in the GPS reading at the entry and got a current feed, of overlaid infrared and visible and laid a ten meter grid over it from her reference point.
This guy Harrison was sort of scary she had to admit and his guards didn't make her any more comfortable at all. She decided to keep an open screen of the building view and the rear view cameras on her spex and she went ahead and entered her militia ID and password and demanded control of the approaching sats until she logged off. That would save time if she needed it later.
All the other active users would see that activation, so she posted a notice on the board that she was alone and meeting a member of Homeland Security on his home ground and felt very vulnerable and afraid, so she wanted some back up. She didn't want interrupted to chat with anyone about it, so she offered and left her spex open to anyone that wanted to follow. The central real view, the rear view, the aerial view and the weapons menu all at once, was as much as her brain could handle for sure, without friends jabbering in her ear. She set a single hot key to take them all down and back up on demand, to clear her peripheral vision if she needed to. She went out and Lois was looking a little concerned over the delay. She felt calmer and more confident with all those resources primed, if a worst case scenario came up.
"Did you get a few last minute jitters?" she asked April gently.
"A few," she admitted. "But I'm good to go." April assured her. She stood to lead April back out in the hall to the studio. If I designed this place, April thought, I'd have the dressing room open right on the studio. She looked in her menu and saw there were fourteen militia members logged on watching thru her spex. Their unseen support helped buoy her.
The area they had set off for them in the studio was tucked in a back corner. It had a sort of false wall behind a grouping of furniture. Kyrah sat in a low backed upholstered chair in the middle, instead of to one side. It swiveled so she could actually turn to either guest. April and Preston Harrison each had a love seat in a V with Kyrah's chair at the point, with a small table separating each from Kyrah's chair. Harrison was seated already at Kyrah's right hand and had a glass of water on his table that appeared untouched. He sat very straight on the little sofa. Not turned at all towards Kyrah, with knees and feet together, in a dark conservative suit that shouted middle class and brown oxfords. It was business wear and he had no stylish touches, no jewelry, not even a pocket hanky. Just a de-rigor flag pin on his lapel and a small gold plus sign.
Kyrah had a cup of coffee and another cup was waiting for April on the table, beside the empty love seat. April was trying to figure out if Kyrah using the same table as she did, subtly associated her with April. She tried to remember if Kyrah was right or left handed and couldn't. She irritated with herself for being so unobservant. The love seat left the guest rather exposed to the camera, if you sat on the side closest to the Hostess. You could turn sideways or slouch.
April wanted to tuck a leg under her, but knew when she did she often ended up with it numb and she didn't want to get up later and limp. She wedged herself in the corner of the couch with her legs angled to the camera. She had on her fancy lunar vest as part of an all black outfit and had the refrigeration cranked up, but not the long undergarments in this climate – they would look strange. The refrigeration, even just in a vest, was an advantage, because Harrison looked sweaty already. The air felt cold, but the lights pumped out heat.
When she sat she looked at the big monitor set under the cameras, where Kyrah could look at it and marveled how on camera, the set looked like an intimate setting in a small room. But all around them was a cavernous hanger like room, full of strange pieces of massive equipment to support cameras and operators and sound gathering equipment and lights from every conceivable angle. Behind Harrison out of camera range, was a fellow that was simply standing. He was taking no part in any of the technical activities, so he was another security man. He wore a jacket also, unlike the technicians.
The fellow at the far back door in the corner, she thought was one of those guards she had seen outside the dressing room. After she sat, another security fellow appeared in the background behind her. He probably didn't think she'd know he was back there. She zoomed in on him and cranked the gain up. He appeared to be another new one. So somewhere out there was the other man she had seen in the hall. At least four of them and likely at least two more just guarding his vehicle, April imagined.
"Hello I'm Kyrah Armstrong for CNN and we have two guests today to answer some of the mysteries and explore some of the possible future events, between the new nation of Home and the United States of North America."
"On my right," she indicated with an open palm, "Preston Harrison, third executive in the Department of Homeland Security and early announced Presidential candidate for the Patriot Party. On my left, April Lewis, an unusual young woman, who is here by her own statement on a vacation, when no other citizen of Home has visited North American territory since the conflict was resolved. She has also reportedly bought a vacation home in the islands and plans to visit the mainland and possibly Europe before going home."
Aha! April thought, she was snooping in when I talked to Lois.
"What do you think of the Islands so far April?"
"Well obviously I like them, or I wouldn't have bought a home here, to come back on occasion and enjoy them. It's nice to have a place with the spacious feeling you can't get on Home. It's simply too expensive to live there like you do here. I know your viewers are familiar with how the Japanese are accustomed to living in much more cramped quarters than Americans. We are very similar in our circumstances. But I also like the people and the attitude of the Islands. In that I find the people more like what I'm used to in Home. They are laid back and easy going with people who are different than them. I've been here just briefly before when I lifted from Hawaii, after visiting my grandparents in Australia."
"You are guesting with a family. You described them as 'down to Earth'. Is this a relationship you had from another visit, or someone you know from your home?"
"I don't intend to discuss them. They might pay a price for their hospitality and that's all it is, they have no political connection to me. They are hospitable and firmly practical and honest the way that phrase is taken down here."
"How would the phrase be taken on home?"
"You simply don't hear it. If you did it might be mistaken as sarcasm, or imply being cast into the nether regions. Earth is called the mudball or the slumball. It is viewed as dirty, fractured into meaningless classes, unnecessarily impoverished and full of petty officiousness. I'm 'down to Earth' at the moment in one of the few pleasant places to do so. I will still be happy to go home." Kyrah looked shocked at that indictment. She didn't need any more encouragement to switch gears away from that question.
"Mr. Harrison. Has Miss Lewis's visit been any problem for Homeland Security, or has her visit been smooth so far for your agency?"
"I know you are characterizing her visit as a carefree vacation, but frankly we are viewing it as a propaganda mission. She has flaunted her gene modifications, contrary to common decency and left behind a series of assaults and damage, typical of her violent society, that were clearly attempts to provoke us into responding. So far we have refrained, but Miss Lewis is either an illegal alien, or an unlawful combatant, depending on how you interpret the law, perhaps both.
Where is your foreign nationals ID card that should be hanging around your neck Miss Lewis? The one USNA requires of its temporary guests," he asked her directly.
Kyrah looked back at April with an expectant face.
"I suspect you know the answer to that, from recording my entry at airport security and customs and you must reject it. But I'll answer for the audience. We conquered you. You surrendered. The only objection you have to violence, is we use it better than you. You certainly use it against your own people more than we do. And then, when you asked us to wear the silly cards we thought it made you look so much worse than anything we could have thought of, we did it as a courtesy, like you'd take your shoes off to enter a person's home if it was their custom, even if you owned it and rented it to them. To me, it was as offensive as having Jews wear a star in the third Reich. But we still did it, until your man tried to tell me the gesture just neutralized all the reality of your defeat and surrender. As if the landlord I alluded to taking his shoes off, lost title to the home by his politeness. So I took it off and burned it into the floor and we won't be wearing them again. Have your people been refusing to pass citizens of Home through security on New Las Vegas, or the International Space Station II, without wearing a black card?"
"The Earthside territory of North America is a different case than orbital structures Miss Lewis. We have a far deeper interest in our safety and security, on the planetary surface."
"Well I know we could take the orbital territory away from you. And we could probably occupy them with our small population, since a lot of the residents already identify themselves more as spacers than North Americans, so they'd cooperate and our taxes are way lower and voluntary. We don't extract taxes with the violence you say we are so fond of. But we really don't have any designs on them. We just don't think that way. But it seems not a good idea to soften your claim to them, as inferior to Earthside, because it may encourage them to consider independence like we did," she suggested.
"This sort of provocative speech is what I meant about your visit being a propaganda mission. Do you deny that?"
"No."
"No? You acknowledge it?"
"Sure. We wanted to remind you we have rights to pass your territory and be treated by our law. You seemed to be forgetting it quickly, if we only exercise it above the atmosphere. You forget something about propaganda. The word does not in any sense mean such information is a falsehood. It just means it serves the purposes of the people issuing it. It just got that bad reputation because politicians lie as easy as they breathe."
"And you are not political and we know what you say is truth?" He said, with a smug smirk on his face April just wanted to step on.
"Last time Kyrah interviewed me, I invited her to run my statements through verifying software. As long as she discloses the full numbers and what she ran them through, she was welcome to make them public. I know your law makes it illegal to force that on a person, but I voluntarily waived my right. I haven't withdrawn that at all. So I may be delusional. I may believe things you can't, but at least you will know I'm not talking out both sides of my mouth to you."
April saw the look of deep shock on his face.
"Ha, you saw a ghost didn't you? From your face, I'd say Ms. Armstrong forgot to mention that little change in the game I made. She won't lie to you either, but she sometimes forgets to mention things, such as the way she was listening in on me before this interview, as I talked with her assistant in the dressing room. She was chatting me up for information and not telling me Kyrah was listening in. Those not-a-lie omissions, can come back and bite you on the butt, if you don't catch them."
"Tell you what Simon. I got a million EuroMarks right here on my pad account, I can beam to you. I bet you even money you can't go the full interview like we intended and go toe to toe with me, letting the software compare how deeply we believe what we are saying and come off as truthful. If you told that much truth at one sitting your political career would be ruined."
"This interview is terminated," Harrison told Kyrah. "All copies of it will be seized and classified for public security. If you divulge the contents of it, you will be subject to the severest punishments of the Federal government. Do I make myself clear?" He was ugly.
"You make yourself perfectly clear. However the interview is not in the can to seize. One of those little details April admires my skill at forgetting to mention, is that we are streaming it out live. So you just made yourself perfectly clear. Alarmingly transparent, if I may say so, to about fifty million viewers any number of whom in various countries, probably have it cached to share with their friends and relatives tonight. So I'm afraid the genie is already out of the bottle in that regard, Mr. Harrison."
"In that case it doesn't matter if it is going out or not. You are under arrest Ms. Armstrong, for knowingly aiding a hostile foreign power. The public will be well instructed by seeing what punishment such behavior brings, regardless of their opinion of me. And fear is far more telling than opinion Ms. Armstrong. As for Miss Lewis, I have my transport of two fan platforms waiting on the roof, that have loyal men of both Immigration and Homeland Security. When I leave she will accompany me under arrest, back to the Coast Guard Station at the old Barber's Point – Kalaeloa airport and be transported to the mainland for detention. Something else I hope is instructive to your public. That was decided before I even came here today."
April did not wait to hear the rest of his spiel. She used her spex to lay designator cross hairs on both the fan lifter aircars her sat coverage showed on the roof and told the next sat in line to put a kinetic energy weapon through each of them, at an angle. She was careful to tell it not to put one down at a sharp angle, because she was pretty much straight down from them and it might penetrate deep in the building. The program told her they would be here in less than four minutes. She lucked out – that was about the minimum transit to be expected. They weren't taking her anywhere in those cars.
April saw that her program was displaying the flashing warning: Network Link Down. She didn't know if that had happened before or after she released the weapons on the aircars. It didn't matter, because her display also showed: Direct Connection Up. She was about to deal with this base they wanted to take her to, when Jon inquired in text on her spex: "Kill Harrison's transport at base?"
"Yes," she replied aloud. Jon could decide how and allow her to deal with her situation here, which she intended to do. She was deeply angry Harrison tried to cut her off and arrest her. Unfortunately for him all he could see was a young girl, who must be thoroughly cowed, since she didn't shout out any objections, or even rise from her seat. He couldn't conceive of the young girl before him as a threat,, or a combat veteran. Disaster was already falling around his ears and he was clueless.
"Believe me, besides dealing with you," he went on, not even wondering what her spoken yes meant, "one of the first things I'll do in my Presidency, is to wipe that rebellious scum from the sky that you are so proud of. I'll bend the full power of North America to destroying Home, as should have already been done. If we suffer casualties, it won't be the first time our country has had to sacrifice, to preserve its Manifest Destiny. God will help us again, if we act decisively." When he got into it, the creepy fanaticism just took over his face.
"You tried to disconnect me from networking with Home," April interrupted him, voice accusingly softer than before. The different tone slid right past Harrison, but the question on Kyrah's face said her professional interviewer's ear caught it.
"Yes, you are jammed," he sneered smugly. "So much for your casual threats."
"No you tried," she repeated calmly. "I just targeted the aircars on the roof. My friends are acting to neutralize the Air Station you spoke of. You failed. I will not submit to your arrest. Your life is forfeit, for threatening my family and my nation."
Before Harrison could say anything there was a deep double <Wham> <Wham> that shook the building to the foundations. The lights went out and several pieces of equipment fell over noisily in the dark. April switched her spex to dark combat mode and cleared the extra map and menu from her field of vision, leaving the rear view. The outer lens darkened, to keep the light projected on her face from giving her away.
She decided the place to be, was not where she had been sitting when the lights went out. So she slide off the love seat and rolled away as quietly as she could, ending laying belly down, flat on the floor a couple meters away. In her spex the agent behind Harrison pulled his gun out in the dark, easing towards where she had been. That's the way she figured it would go now. It sealed his fate. She could have popped him, but while she had the dark working for her but she wanted to locate as many targets as she could. Her new reflexes, recently bought, would serve her well once she started shooting.
She sighted the one behind her in her rear view and the one by the door was already a couple steps closer to them with a gun in his hand too, but uncertain, the other hand out front, feeling in the dark. That still left one missing, but she looked both ways and could not see him, so she drew to deal with what she had. Then the emergency lights came on and she felt rushed. She filled the room with far more light than the emergency lights gave, with a solid shot to the agent's chest behind Harrison. The orange flash of vaporized meat added to the backscatter illumination and she rolled away from her location and shot the agent by the door while she was still facing that way, even though the man behind her was closer.
She shot out the emergency light above the second agent and rolled away again ending on her back and sat up facing back at the agent who had been behind her. He was visible silhouetted against the emergency light still behind him and he fired a shot at approximately where she had been a moment before, the boom followed by a buzzing sound of the flattened ricochet bouncing of the concrete floor, until it hit a wall somewhere. She burned him through the chest, holding her laser out double handed from a sitting position.
There was another boom and she was shoved sideways by a blow to her ribs, that the vest absorbed, but it was like being kicked violently. It knocked her flat sideways on the floor, but it told her where the last agent was and she aimed in the general direction of the shot without even rising and walked the beam across the whole area weaving it back and forth in figure eights. It screamed in different tones as it chewed up everything to that side of the room, floor, walls and equipment. Flashes of all sorts of colors playing as the beam found wire and plastic and threw fans of molten metal droplets in the air, concrete snapping from thermal shock.
She kept firing long after she could see holes through into the adjoining rooms and serious damage from her beam. She finally rolled away again and waited a moment, but there was no return fire coming from the smoking wreckage on that side of the room. Her ribs were hurting already and she could tell they were going to be bad. It hurt to suck air in. The regular lights came back on and when she levered herself up Kyrah and Harrison were still sitting in their chairs, Kyrah looking just stunned, but Harrison looking bewildered, like he didn't understand why things weren't going by his foreordained script.
"You'll make war on my people and kill them all?" she screamed at him. "Here's your holy glorious war for you." And she brought the laser up and walked fire from his crotch up across his face, peeling him open and the explosion of pink steam blew him and the whole love seat over backwards in a stinking, charred, mess. Kyrah was staring at her wild eyed, her right side peppered with a fine red spray of gore, across her white blouse and face.
She limped back holding her elbow over her abused ribs, gasping and sat down hard on the love seat again. She slammed the laser in her holster and grabbed up the coffee cup and took a deep chug of it. The link she broke when she drew her pistol reestablished itself when it had power again. That was not at all a satisfactory design she decided. The message from Jon said: "No planes, no runway, took down ballistic defense, 2-kiloton runway buster - shock wave coming. More targets?"
"Not yet," she sent him before a sharp ground wave bounced the floor under her feet.
"Hang on Kyrah!" she managed to get out, before a an unbelievable bass rumble shook the building again, until the lights went out a second time and stayed off. The ground waves were followed by a couple more, then a huge burst of them together, like a symphony written for all timpani. By then the air blast from the first strikes were arriving.
The end was punctuated by one extraordinary shock wave, that might have made the couch leave the floor. That had to be the runway busting ground penetrator. The emergency lights came on again, minus the one she had shot out. When it was over she was just happy the building had not come down on them, since her shots at the aircars would have weakened it ahead of the bombardment. She could still smell concrete dust overpowering everything, even the burnt pork, cordite and vaporized plastic and metal smell of their battle, so the building was damaged pretty badly. The dim emergency lights stayed on though.
"What was that?" Kyrah finally got her voice back.
"That was Kalaeloa where Mr. Harrison's goons were going to take me, for their hospitality flight back to the mainland.
"You used nuclear weapons on us?"
"Not exactly. They're a little different. If you had one go off right over you the difference could be kind of lost on you, but no fallout. That big bump was a ground penetrating two kiloton weapon. I don't imagine there are any useable runways at Kalaeloa now. And any planes visible were hit like the ones on the roof. My friends did that to remove whatever resources Harrison had there, to come after me."
Kyrah sat silent and April sat and forced herself to think about the whole thing awhile, despite the pain. She made sure she was transmitting to the militia members still, but addressed Kyrah. "This Patriot Party you said he was the candidate for, I'm telling my friends on Home about it right now. We have to assume they share the same agenda to destroy us. If we find any of them they're dead men too. We'll look for their member lists, headquarters or meetings. I'm giving you the benefit of assuming you didn't know he'd try to arrest me, when we sat down, since he tried to arrest you too." Kyrah didn't try to make any reply to that, to protest her innocence.
A technician wearing a headset came up, with a dazed expression and an empty fire extinguisher in his hand. "I don't think we have any fire that will spread," he told them both, "but all the crew is leaving the building and going home. The phones are all jammed and we can't call the fire department or EMS. Whatever wiped the cops and aircars off the roof came down through the top two floors, before it went out the East side of the building. Most of one of the aircars is lying out in the street, upside down burning. Whatever went through them and the edge of the building, dug a couple big craters in the other side of the street and sidewalk. My producer is out there now describing it to me," he said, touching the headset. "He's getting in his car and leaving like the rest of us, after he shoots some video. I don't think anybody is missing, but a couple of the big executive's offices on the East side are just gone."
"They were kinetic energy weapons from orbit," April told him. "A tank killer weapon, that doesn't carry an explosive warhead. Preston Harrison was going to arrest me and haul me off with his Homeland Security goons, so I called down fire from orbit and took his cars and his muscle out. Didn't you hear the interview?"
"No, I'm a mixer tech from the shoot in Studio Four and just came over and put the fire out when the wall burned through. You had Harrison here? Isn't he a big wheel in Homeland Security?" he asked.
"Not anymore," Kyrah informed him and just pointed at the upturned sofa, with its bottom and legs towards them. There was a single foot in a brown oxford still sticking up, hooked over the edge. The techie finally dropped the extinguisher with a hollow clang and took a few steps in the dim light to lean over the love seat with both hands and look at what was behind it. Then in death, Harrison had the final indignity of the technician vomiting on him.
April got up and announced, "I'm out of here too." Nobody tried to stop her.
Chapter 35
The parking lot was just fine. In fact, walking back there was not much damage, except for some broken windows. The shock wave came all the way from across the bay. That separation helped and the ground penetrator wouldn't have much of an air wave. However she could see an angry plume of black smoke rising in the distant West, blowing away from her, but all the buildings cut her view off from the base of that smoke. Probably aircraft burning, she figured.
She kept expecting the local cops to pull up and try to detain her. If Harrison hadn't come by air, there would have probably been a bunch of local cops at the studio. The attendant was freaked out when she got back to the lot and asked if she knew what was going on. She declined to discuss it and was happy to see her ride safe and untouched. She headed not for her place, but to Adzusa's because she needed her ribs looked at, but didn't trust going to an emergency room and telling who she was.
Once she was in her vehicle and away a bit she, terminated her control on militia resources and let Jon know she was OK. She admitted to stopping a shot with her vest but minimized it. She told them again to look at the statements Harrison had made about destroying Home and consider if his party was still a danger, even though he was gone and was anxious to sign off. A few emergency vehicles passed, running with lights and siren on, so she probably would have to wait for treatment at a hospital anyway. The areas right on the edge of the Coastie Station probably had casualties, but April couldn't find a lot of sympathy for them.
If Harrison had the cooperation of forces at the base, they were a danger to her. These people seemed incapable of understanding they couldn't just snatch anyone they pleased and do whatever they wanted with them. This was the price for trying. She wasn't sure some other righteous nut case, still wouldn't try to arrest her. Traffic was very light going up country out of town. Apparently, people hunkered down and stayed put, when things were uncertain. She rolled in and Li met her in the driveway. "Would you sweep it for bugs and park it inside out of sight?" she requested. He nodded, seeming at ease.
When she went in they took her to a small bedroom downstairs she'd never seen. Once her vest was off and they peeled up her blouse, there was an angry circle of red already starting to turn blotchy purple on her ribs about as big across as a tennis ball and swollen out in a low bump. They called Lin in and she examined her with some force, that made April gasp in pain, but she declared there was not any rib fracture. She put a cold pack on it and gave April a pain killer and an anti-inflammatory, by mouth.
Finally, after her immediate need was taken care of Adzusa asked, "Who did this to you? We were watching and you had just told Harrison you wouldn't submit to arrest and there was a boom and the transmission ended."
"And that was it?" April asked. "The transmission didn't come back on, when the power came back on again?"
"No, we have no idea what happened. We heard on other channels, there were explosions and heavy damage to the West out at Barber's Point, but they didn't say if that had anything to do with you or not."
"Yeah, that was Jon acting for me. Let's go out by the pool and I'll lay back on a chaise lounge sucking down lemonade and show you what happened off my public eye," April offered. "It will explain what happened at the studio and the airport both."
They helped her up, Lin protesting she should go lie on a bed flat. April countered that once she lay down for the night she didn't want to get back up and diverted her by asking if she would have something that would help her sleep later.
They arranged themselves around the table by the pool and Papa-san called Li and his other young man and told them to bring seats, which was unusual. April understood then they were also his security officers, so this was a bit of a council of war. What they saw might affect who could try their perimeter later. They made a quick check of the news channels, to see what was being said, then went to April's video.
The public eye could see in near dark or infrared, so when the orbital weapons went through the aircars on the roof, it switched to infrared as soon as the double thud sounded on the record and the lights went out. It switched to a false color, but with surprising detail. It was about two seconds from when it went dark, until she had slid to the floor and rolled over three times ending on her belly. She lined the laser up on the body guard behind Harrison in the dark, as he took one tentative step forward. Then the lights flickered back and the normal color returned. His eyes just started to turn to her, but he hadn't shifted his weapon and his chest disappeared in a blinding flash and a cough of exploding steam. Then as his knees started to buckle, the guard behind him suffered a similar flash and death. The emergency light above him disintegrated in a shower of molten metal.
The whole sequence, Flash-Flash-Flash took less than two seconds and the camera swept away before either man had finished falling. For a long leisurely second she rolled over twice, camera panning across ceiling and floor and sat up with the agent from behind her pointing his weapon double handed to the side, where she had been. The muzzle lit up with a long tongue of flame and climbed back in recoil, then he too disappeared behind a brilliant ball of plasma, that mercifully hide what happened behind the glare.
Then the whole scene moved sideways with a terrific jerk and rolled horizontal. The audio recorded a slapping sound, as a big slug flattened out like a coin against April's ribs and shoved her sideways and over. The scene before her lit up in that peculiar backscatter rainbow flash, that lingered on green, which was the laser cycling through its frequencies, seeking the best one to tear the target apart. She was firing to the side and the camera was pointed off, away from where she was firing. By this time almost seven seconds had elapsed.
As she sat up, turning, the side of the room where the agent who shot her had to be, came into view. Some of the tangle of theater booms and cables were still falling from her initial fire and as the beam walked in loops across that side of the room it undercut the block wall to the adjacent studio, which collapsed over on the already significant pile of junk. Where the gunman had been hidden in that mess, never did show on the record. In the edge of the view, two studio technicians scrambled on hands and knees, away from that side of the room for the exit. She didn't remember even seeing them at the time.
She seemed to remember just hosing that side of the room down forever. But watching it now, it was only about four seconds. From when the lights went out, until all four guards were dead, was somewhere between eight and eleven seconds depending on how you counted. Levering herself erect and stumbling back to the seating area seemed terribly long and slow, after the gun battle. The camera jerking with her limp.
Her screaming denunciation of Harrison sounded like some stranger's voice. His face never registered a change, as he was ripped open by a flare of light from crotch to crown and except for an explosion of red fog, the flare of light hid the work of the weapon from the camera, as he was blown back out of sight behind the overturned love seat. Only the lone foot, heel hooked on the edge remained visible. Then she sat down heavy with a thump that shook the camera and the coffee cup came up across the field of view. Her words with Kyrah seemed unimportant but she let it run through the noise from the bombardment until she said she was leaving and cut the feed.
"I wouldn't release that to anyone if I were you," Papa-san advised her grimly.
"I thought Adzusa might want something out of it," April offered.
"No. I couldn't do that to you," she said. "You don't understand what effect that would have on the public. It would be counterproductive. A lot of North Americans will look down on you for shooting Harrison, since he didn't have a weapon."
"He didn't need a weapon in his hand. Each of those agents and the guys with the cars on the roof and who knows what other assets at the Coastie Air Station were his weapons. If I'd allowed him to live, he had sworn to kill my family and nation. He had a weapon in every asset of his agency. No. Don't cover this up," she demanded. "This is exactly what the public down here needs to know. If you threaten Home we will believe you and we will remove the threat."
"That's really not how North Americans think," Adzusa insisted still. "They think you can say anything, but it's what you do that counts. Any number of them would say he was just blowing off steam." She grimaced, to think what a pun that was.
"They wouldn't say that if somebody was threatening the President, would they?"
"Well no," Adzusa admitted. "There are specific laws about threatening public officials."
"But it's fine to swear you'll blow a whole habitat of people to vapor?"
That got some uncomfortable looks, all around.
"Let me put it this simple," April told her. "If they want to keep thinking that they can. But if they don't learn we don't think that way, it's going to kill them. So consider it a kindness to tell them, no matter how badly it makes them regard me."
Adzusa started slowly nodding, like it was finally getting through. "So after a couple hundred years of politicians training us not to believe much of what they say, you are going to demand the right to believe them?"
"You got it. If they say, ‘We'll kill you,' they better mean it and do it damn quick."
Adzusa finally accepted the video with much trepidation. Not at all sure how she would edit it. It was a definite hot potato. It amused April a little, to see her get too much story.
"Ask Genji Akira what to do with it," April suggested to her.
She nodded acceptance, that was a good idea.
"Let's look at my sat coverage, since there's nothing on the news," April suggested. It took a few minutes to actually find the airfield. When she did the center of the X the runways made, had a surprisingly large crater in the middle. The ridge of dirt thrown up around the crater extended all the way to the beach at one point.
There was still one fire off to the side burning, but the plume of smoke was blowing South-West now and they could see the apron was pock marked with smaller craters, as well as three small pits clustered on the long Western extension of the runway from the X.. Each one had a pile of debris around it, where the aircraft burned or just disintegrated, from an orbital weapons strike. A few looked bizarre, because there would be a blackened crater, with the detached wings and sometimes tail, laying beyond the edge of the crater, but the main part of the aircraft gone so thoroughly it couldn't be identified. It was entirely too reminiscent to the Earthies of a swatted bug, lying with wings knocked off.
The surrounding area didn't look that bad, except the control tower was just plain knocked over. Some of the hangers were pushed over crooked, from the blast but not knocked down. Nobody had much to say about it. It looked like there were lots of big trucks, probably fire and rescue, between the hangers and on the edge of the flight apron, so they must have the fires and other emergencies under control.
Despite her resolve not to endanger them with her presence, April found herself being told, not asked, that she would have dinner with them served right where she was and spend the night in the small room where she had been treated, so she would not have to go up stairs. Somewhere along the way she realized the initial revulsion at her actions had disappeared and her hosts seemed to understand her need to defend her home and family better now. Whatever she had said that had swung their opinion, she only hoped Adzusa could do the same thing with the public.
Supper was good, but awkward reclining. Cook seemed to have considered that also. There was nothing like soup, to struggle with while reclining.
Chapter 36
"I'm sorry. I know it's rude to keep it on at dinner," she told them, when her pad chimed.
"Things are a bit uncertain right now," Papa allowed. "Don't worry about it."
April routed it to the bigger screen on the table, they'd used to watch her public eye file. April felt like it was rude to shut out everyone around her by taking it on a hand held pad, while she couldn't easily get up and go in. They'd all sit around trying to be quiet and pretend they weren't listening. Better to share. She couldn't imagine anything she wouldn't share with them anyway. Eddie was looking out of the screen at her with a troubled expression.
"Hello April. I've been waiting to talk to you trying to think what I'm going to say and getting no closer to it and then we saw your interview with Kyrah Armstrong on CNN and Harrison trying to arrest you.. That made me realize how close we came to losing you again and I had to call, even if I'm not entirely sure what to say. I just don't know what to think about your brother. I feel like I might have forced his hand and I think other people here feel even stronger that I precipitated his action and that I'm somewhat to blame for his death. I admit I didn't like him. But I would have never plotted to remove him, like he did me, if he'd just continued doing business in an honorable way. How do you look at it? Do you want to work with me still, or do you blame me and want me to just go away?" He was obviously distraught and not his usual focused self.
April thought about it briefly. She didn't want to ramble on about it, like he was. "Eddie this is not just about you and Bob. He was doing me dirty too and planning ahead to cheat Jeff. None of the three of us had any desire to stop working with him, until he forced our hands, by being a greedy control freak. He wouldn't work with anyone. It had to be his way entirely."
"We'll never know what he did, to try to damage all of Home working with the USNA. I just don't see any way that explosion was innocent Eddie. They had to be trying to open the projector, or the drives, to set the self destruct off. We're down a ship now and Home needs you to push ahead with the next two ships and beyond, quickly. I was thinking on the way down here I am really not comfortable depending completely on others to land down here. So I think you should look into how we can get that capability too. I'm still working with you. If anyone else blames you, or me, or anybody but Bob, that's their problem. I walked away from the company and I had no idea who Bob's heirs were. I totally support you. We need those ships and more."
"We're building the Home Again and Eddie's Scooter as fast as we can, but there are some delays, because we're incorporating Jeff's solutions to the acceleration problem you posed."
"No kidding?" she said not trusting the security of their transmission to say anymore. "He came up with a better solution, than before I left?"
"You'll have to see when you get back. It's elegant," he assured her.
"Wow," was all April could say.
"One of those is your command if you want, or I'll start another if you want to stay with the Happy, until a new third generation ship can fly. As far as you bearing any responsibility for the Home Boy, you quit the company before your partner ever acted to cause its loss. Nobody in their right mind would connect you to it. It was entirely Bob."
"That's how I feel about you too," she said. "If you can finish the others quickly, enough Heather really needs the Happy for her Lunar venture. Just do what's possible for her. Call the Happy my nominal command, I won't be flying anything for awhile."
"April," he said changing his voice and looking serious, "I'm not sure it was a good idea to send you down there. We could not believe they'd have the gall to try to arrest you. Things are obviously even worse than we thought. Jon and your grandfather are speaking with President Wiggen about it. Just come back in one piece won't you? Don't take any more chances than you have to now, to finish your mission. Your grandpa is even more concerned about your safety, after losing your brother. And the damage that was done hitting Harrison's escorts and the Coast Guard Air Station, are driving the fringe groups that hate us further towards demanding action against us, not the other way. We don't think Wiggen has very good control of the situation."
"Thanks I'll try not to step in the lion's den now. We'll talk more when I come home," she promised and ended the call.
* * *
"My friend's are worried I'm pushing the opposition a little too hard," she admitted.
"I do believe, they thought arresting one lone teenage girl would probably be a little easier, than it turned out to be," Papa allowed. "If I were you, I'd become more concerned now, that they will try to just bump you off, by a method that will not expose them to as much risk as arresting you in public. I'd limit shopping, where you walk around exposed. And be careful driving around where you can be targeted in the truck, since its purchase will be in the public records. You might consider a Plain Jane car, to throw them off. Maybe turn it in after a couple days and get another."
"I'll do that, but I think it's time for me to move on to the mainland soon. I need to get the rest of my things from Frank and go. Are you going with me Adzusa, or is it too hot being with me now?"
Adzusa laughed at that. "If I was worried about the hot zone around you I'd have stopped hanging around you a year ago, when I shot the pics of you on Home. It got pretty hot out in the corridors then, with bullets and beams all over the place. But at least I got some pics out of it. How you going to the mainland? Commercial airline? They may look at it as a new chance to hassle you about carrying. They won't even give you a plastic fork anymore, in an airliner."
"I don't know," April admitted. "I could afford to charter a biz jet if I wanted." What do you think of that Papa-san?
He considered it gravely, with his lips pursed up. "If you do, take steps to hide who is renting it. A small plane with just a few passengers is a lot easier to conveniently ‘disappear', than a commercial airliner with a couple hundred people. And there just isn't anything available to rent, that is as fast as military, or has much defense ability, past a few flares and decoys to stop shoulder fired missiles, when you are taking off or landing. There are a few transonic small biz planes, but most are owned and very few are available to rent or lease. Even those only fly at Mach 1.6 to 1.8 or so. The military has lots of planes that can run those down. I'd feel safer on a public flight, bought and boarded at the last minute."
"I told Eddie we needed a lander capability. I guess whatever we make should have the ability to transport us around, once we're down here too," she speculated.
"If you just need to get down, you could use an old fashioned capsule with an ablative heat shield and a parachute. You could even land it at an airport if you wanted, as long as it wasn't too windy that day to blow you off course. They make parachutes you can steer, so that would be a possibility to deal with a mild breeze and still land pinpoint. But if you want something that will take off, you'll need a lifting shape, or a winged vehicle that can survive heating. If you have enough power you could do a powered decent of course. Nobody has tried to do a design for a long time that required that, but what I'm hearing is you might have enough power capacity now to do that."
April made some notes and questions on the whole idea, chatting with Papa about it and sent them off copied to Dave, Jeff and Eddie. Maybe they'd laugh at her, but she asked if a standard aircar could be modified with a Singh power plant to run the fans and a Singh powered drive that would do a powered descent, until there was enough air for the fans to bite. She sent that off and wondered again what Jeff had come up with for the acceleration.
The dinner dishes were cleared away, there were a few desserts laid out and Papa's young men hung around. She thought they were enjoying the inside privilege, of eating with the family. They both were confident enough to not feel the need to add to a conversation, just because they were there and had quietly conferred with each other a few times.
Chapter 37
April's pad chimed again and she frowned at it. She was tired and stressed and really didn't want to keep taking calls all evening. "I'm going to turn this thing off, to take voice mail pretty soon," she declared. She left the pad configured as it was, the bigger screen still folded open on the table and accepted the call, not setting down the desert she was working on, since it would melt.
The older lady on the screen was not familiar to April, but she noticed both Li and Akira, the other young man, sat bolt upright and had a mask of neutrality fall across their faces. You'd think they were on camera, but she know the pickup was only showing her, because she had it open in a small window, in the corner of the bigger screen.
Then the face clicked and April was almost as surprised as the other two. She just wasn't used to seeing President Wiggen in a bathrobe, without the formal makeup she normally wore and the elaborate settings they always used to emphasize her power. She wasn't sitting in the Oval Office. She was sitting on what looked like a fairly normal, if comfortable, sofa, with an iced drink in her hand.
"Ah, Miss Lewis, can we speak a moment?" she asked. The woman seemed seriously irritated. "Eat your ice cream," she added. "Though I don't know how you can enjoy it, after all the people you killed today. Don't they weigh on your conscience at all?"
"I'm finding it hard to feel very badly about that," she informed Wiggen, without any problem finding words. "I went to the CNN studios to talk with Preston Harrison and Kyrah Armstrong. The creep found he couldn't lie freely, like the despicable son of a bitch he was, so he moved straight away to using force. He didn't show any more talent for bullying than he did for lying. What exactly did you expect me to do when the man swore to kill my family and nation to my face and them tried to cut me off from contact with my people and arrest me? Would you just quietly let yourself be lead off to probable execution? Maybe you would. Maybe you'll get a chance to find out, because it doesn't look like a lot of them care for you, much better than me. I think Harrison would have been as delighted to stuff your butt in an aircar and whisk you off to a real rough interrogation and extended hospitality."
Wiggen started to say something and then stopped and looked thoughtful. She took a drink before she continued. "Yes, I imagine that would have made his day. There have been a few attempts at pretty much that exact scenario the last few months," she confided. "For all I know, Harrison might have been the source of one of them. Keeping the country stable and my hold on power, are not easy right now and for all that I'm one of the few that want to treat Home well, you're not making my job any easier Miss Lewis."
"Will you drop the Miss Lewis, thing please. Every time somebody calls me that, I feel like I'm caught up in a Victorian novel," she begged.
"And how shall you address me?" she asked. "Do you want to flaunt some egalitarian policy, by us being informal?"
"Would you please ask President Wiggen, if she would expand the conversation beyond you two, to allow me to address her also?" Papa-san asked.
"Who is that?" Wiggen demanded. "I didn't know we were sharing this conversation."
"You caught me having supper with my hosts," April informed her. "I've taken other calls and right now it's rather difficult for me to move around freely, because I got hurt in the fighting. I didn't run off for privacy with my other calls either. I would assume you'd feel free to share this call with your friends and advisers, if you needed their take on it. Shouldn't I have the same privilege? She zoomed the camera angle out until Papa-san and Lin were included in the pickup range. "Ms. Wiggen, President of the United States of North America, my hosts Tetsuo and Lin Satos," she introduced them. "There is probably some diplomatic protocol I messed up and didn't use, but it isn't out of egalitarian stubbornness or disrespect. It's just I was never trained in all that silliness, any more than I know how to curtsey properly, or would know how to address the Queen of England or the Pope, in a manner satisfactory to all the flappers and toadies around them."
The President looked tired and sighed. "I suppose I am used to having everyone primed how to address me, before they get near. Right now I don't have many flappers and toadies around me. In fact I have two naval guards in opposite corners of the room, watching me, weapons in hand and maybe watching each other. They're afraid to sit outside in the hallway, because this has been a night of the long knives and I've probably had as many people killed tonight protecting me, as you killed protecting yourself."
"Then how can you sit and enjoy your drink, anymore than I can enjoy my ice cream?" April tossed back in her face.
"Because I'm a world weary old woman who's hardened to this ugliness and you're supposed to be a innocent young gir,l whose conscience would be offended at such things."
"If you will release me from my role playing part, I won't expect you to follow your script and we can move right past all the play acting," April offered. "What do you want to be called? Just tell me and we can move on to something more important. Ms. Wiggen? Mrs. Wiggen? Madame President? President Wiggen? I have no problem with any of them."
Wiggen seemed to be unexpectedly relaxing from April's offer. "So, what do you call your hosts there, who are older than you? she asked, seemingly amused now and willing to spar.
"Well, he started out suggesting Illustrious Lord or Benevolent Master," she remarked offhand and her host looked stricken that she remembered that, much less was telling it to the President of the USNA, "although I haven't heard any of the servants using those, but we sort of agreed on Papa-san being acceptable, since he didn't seem to like Hey-You. His wife here, though Mistress of the House, seems to be called Mother by everyone, but she offered me Lin to use. But then they have fed me at their table and sheltered me under their roof and offered advice how to deal with the locals and where to go to get everything from fish sandwiches to carpet tape. Papa-san even shot a drone out of the sky, that was to snoop on me. So I owe them a huge debt of gratitude, as I do their daughter Adzusa. I'd call them anything they asked and figure they earned it on top of owing respect for their age."
"I was told our drone showed you walking out of a convenience store and lifting a weapon to aim right at it, the instant before it was destroyed," Pres. Wiggen told her. "Sorry, but I have to pin that one on you."
"Yeah, but that was the military one," April assured her. "There are so many of the damn things buzzing around here, I think they went feral and are nesting in the trees breeding," she exaggerated. "The one he shot belonged to Disney. Then he crushed it into a cube around a chicken, so it would smell interesting in a couple days and shipped it back to them. Even I'm not that artistic," she admitted. "But I learn by observing," she noted brightly.
Even President Wiggen could see the humor in the chicken, enough to roll her eyes. But she settled the question before them. "Just call me Wiggen then. When I was a young woman in a law firm they couldn't decide what to call me and I wasn't going to put up with the crap of Honey and Dear, or they'd have thought they could order me to fetch their coffee and pat my bottom in a week. We called a truce with plain old Wiggen. I kind of miss it anyway. I take it you like April? She asked.
"That's entirely satisfactory. I'm not worried anyone will try to pat my bottom."
"I bet not," Wiggen agreed with a wry expression. "So Mr. Satos aren't you concerned you may not appear the loyal citizen, having an agent of Home as your house guest?"
"If that is meant as intimidation I resent it," Papa-san said mildly. "If you mean it as a serious question I'm not a USNA citizen and when I was a civilian employee of the DOD they never doubted my loyalty due to that. As a matter of fact I will assure you I never acted against the interests of my employers. I always knew you don't bite the hand that feeds you. However my employment is ended and if my daughter brings friends and colleagues home. I'll have anyone I wish under my roof." He had a flat, matter of fact tone, April found scary.
"It was meant as a serious question. Most people would be terrified to have such a house guest. But I don't think it matters, because obviously you don't intimidate worth a damn. Who did you work for under the DOD?"
"You should call and ask," he suggested. "I might be in violation of agreements to tell you, even now," he said.
"I'm the President. Don't you think I'm cleared to hear anything I want?"
"Technically yes," he agreed. "But I saw things that weren't passed up the line of command when I served and I bet this young lady," he said nodding at April, "has told me things about the Office of the President, you haven't been told."
"Such as?" she asked, skepticism written on her face.
"How President Hadley died last year," Papa-san said.
April looked surprised. "Do you really think the government doesn't know?"
"Oh, some part of the government knows, I'm sure. But I bet anything they didn't tell her," he said, pointing to the screen, or they would have changed who is guarding her, even though it wouldn't do a thing to help the root cause of the problem. It was a similar mess that prompted them to switch from the Secret Service to the Navy after all."
"President Hadley was killed and a bunch of others in the succession, when the bunker complex at Deepwell in West Virginia was destroyed by Home last year," Wiggen said with conviction and visible irritation. "What kind of conspiracy fantasy are you going to run past me? We've heard every variation, from Home getting help from flying saucers, to people reporting Home troops rampaging through the streets of Idaho."
"You want to tell her, or you think she won't believe you anyway?" Papa asked.
"I'm sure she has good biometric software, confirming what we believe about our statements," April pointed out. "So I'll tell her and if she doesn't believe us what's lost? Maybe she'll let me pick them up and remove them easier if she doesn't believe."
"Wiggen, they got President Hadley out safely at Deepwell. He didn't die in the bunker. But he was a raving nut case the last couple weeks and at the end he kept trying to go back in the bunker, even though it was plainly being destroyed. His security detail had to literally drag him outside the facility to safety. But when they tried to hand him off to another security detail outside, he refused to cooperate any further, unless the two who brought him out were lined up and executed before his eyes, for laying hands on him. They apparently were going to do just that, but the lieutenants who rescued him didn't appreciate his ingratitude and didn't agree with their reward, so they refused to surrender their arms and shot it out with the B team. They shot all of them dead and Hadley too."
Wiggen sat looking at them and her eyes went down to the side where they knew she was looking at the veracity of April's statement. She didn't look happy and she looked a little confused. "How could you possibly know such a thing? And if somebody told you this story, why would you believe them?"
"Because the two who shot their President dead, want to come to Home and contacted me to help. And although you have agreed not to restrict travel to Home, they figure they have a snowball's chance in hell of getting on a plane or shuttle, because of what they did. I totally agree with them, because I had to help my friend Don Adams get through Homeland Security at gunpoint just a couple weeks ago, or their thugs would have him in a cell, or a shallow grave right now, without my help. These two aren't bragging on the deed at all. They did it most reluctantly. It was clear at the time they didn't do it as a political act. They just were not the sort to go meekly to their slaughter. If it doesn't matter to you, we'll take them quietly. Their story isn't exactly complimentary to how your country treats its service people. So maybe keeping it quiet would be a fair trade for their exit."
"Let me check on something. I'll split the screen and allow you to watch." The screen split vertically and President Wiggen called to one of her guards, "Tell your commander I want him talking to me on my screen here, five minutes ago. I don't need him all dressed and fancied up, just awake."
A man in a white t-shirt appeared, in a surprisingly fast two minutes. He looked groggy, but he also looked worried. "Yes, Madam President. What can I do for you?"
"Are you familiar with the men that were in President Hadley's security unit last year and how they were organized?"
"No Ma'am. I assembled your detail from scratch, at the direction of my superior and I was advised there were none of the old unit available, to make use of their training. That was one of my first questions when I was tasked. I was also told that most of them were dead, in the destruction of Deepwell."
"Most of them? Did anyone tell you why any survivors wouldn't be retained?"
"No Ma'am, when you are asked to do high security work, you learn to proceed with what you are assigned, without asking a lot of questions. I've learned to trust my superior, to provide what I need to accomplish my task and not make a habit of too many questions, or I may create an impression I'm critical of my assignment, or my superior. I've found I have everything I need and sufficient support to accomplish my duty so far. The fact that the purges today didn't touch your detail should testify to that, I believe."
"Thank you Commander. I want to assure you I've found no fault with my security. I do however want some information about President Hadley's security group. Do you know if your superior would be able to answer any questions about that, or do you know someone else I should call?"
"Ma'am, I am not sure what information Captain Ridley my superior can provide, but I know no better source to direct you to. If he doesn't know what you want, he is in a much better position than I am, to advice you of a source."
"Thank you for your attention at this late hour. If you'd have your Captain call me immediately, I am through with you for the evening."
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied smartly and saluted before disconnecting, even though he was in underwear.
"There's one happy man, to pass the call on to his boss," Papa-san told April. If President Wiggen still had their audio feed on she didn't acknowledge it.
The screen showed an older man, in even less time than the Commander had taken to appear, but he still managed to have a uniform shirt on, although it was missing any decoration and April had the hilarious thought, that if he were ordered to stand up, he might not have taken the time to put pants on.
"Captain Ridley. Are you at all familiar with the Security Unit President Hadley had protecting him and if there were any surviving members after the fall of the Deepwell bunker?"
"Yes Madam President, I was appointed to reconstruct the security group by Admiral Mason, after the fall of Deepwell. He assigned the formation of that group to a Captain Robinson, who died in Deepwell. We found deficiencies in the performance of that group and I was charged with making sure those assigned your detail and others of similar stature performed better, so we determined none of the few surviving members would be assigned to the new unit. It was felt it would be better to start from scratch, rather than attempt to retrain men who had been very thoroughly conditioned to follow other scripts and doctrines."
"And the two lieutenants that escorted President Hadley from the Deepwell bunker. Has anyone ever been able to discover their whereabouts, or reconstruct the last moments of their actions as his guards?"
Captain Ridley looked like someone had driven a knife through his back. The healthy tan tone of his face, took about two seconds of awkward silence, to fade to a sweaty pallor.
"With all sincere respect Ma'am I wish you'd ask that question of Admiral Mason, as I am aware I am not privy to a great deal of the story."
"Tell me what you do know and perhaps we can salvage some fragment for you. Perhaps at least your freedom, or even your retirement."
They had never heard such a devastating cold blooded threat, phrased as a possible reward. If that was the reward who wanted to hear the possible punishments?
"I was told some members of the security detail that day fought among themselves and abandoned their posts under fire and are still AWOL. Admiral Mason intimated that he thought they must actually be agents of Home, who had infiltrated us and were warned about the bombardment, so they could escape at the last moment. He also speculated that is how Home knew exactly where the bunker complex was located, despite elaborate efforts at secrecy. Thus we wanted to take no chance, by using anyone vetted to the duty from before."
President Wiggen again had the downward glance that said she was consulting her software. "Did he say anything to you about President Hadley being rescued from the bunker and being killed outside the complex?"
"Absolutely not!" Captain Ridley exclaimed. "Everything I have been told by Admiral Mason, indicated the President died in the bunker."
"You're hiding something Captain. This is not the right time, nor am I the right person to hide anything from, if you want my consideration when this is all resolved. What else do you know, besides what Admiral Mason told you?"
"Everything else I have heard, is of the nature of gossip and barracks rumors. I honestly can't say that any of it I heard has any solid basis, or any truth at all. To spread such rumors is dangerous. I honestly wish nobody had burdened me with stories, I have no way to confirm. It's a no win sort of situation. If I have no proof, better to forget them."
"Very smart, but the software says that no matter how hard you try, you do remember them enough to have doubts and concerns, that show up biometrically. Now I understand your disclaimer and I respect that. But I order you to tell me what the scuttle-butt has been."
Ridley looked sick. "I was told that a number of the President's evacuation team were found shot to death in a motor home, some distance from the Deepwell bunker and that the vehicle was looted and burned in a remote area of Pennsylvania. The men who guarded it, said the forensic team did not allow any of the normal troops to approach at all and although the dead were officers, they were buried privately in a military cemetery like enlisted men and not returned to their families. But nobody said anything about the President making it out of Deepwell," he insisted. Wiggen looked down again and nodded like she was agreeing with his last statement.
"Thank you," I believe that is a full statement now. You are to remain at your home until I have you contacted. Please don't consider it an arrest. I'd describe it as protective custody. You are not to call anyone, for any purpose. You will have a guard arrive shortly to protect you and if you have any needs they will see to them. I don't believe it will last more than a day, or perhaps two. I believe you acted to the best of your ability to perform your duty and I won't see you scape -goated for it. Goodnight," she said.
She called the guard over she had initiated the first call and briefly told him to have guards posted to Captain Ridley's residence on her orders, with the chain of command not to proceed through Admiral Mason. Then she called her Secretary of Defense and told him to have Admiral Mason's residence cut off electronically and surrounded, before having him put under arrest and held without questioning, until her instructions were forwarded. On a little further thought, she added to put him under a suicide watch.
"Jay," she asked her Secretary, "Who would I ask, to determine if a foreign national was hired as a civilian employee of the DOD and what his history was?"
"A techie or a spook?" Jay wanted to know.
"A spook I think. Japanese by his looks and name."
"Almost all of them would be CIA, or one of their cover companies. NSA hardly ever hired anyone not a citizen, except for translating masses of documents, for things like technical manuals. Never intelligence or political documents."
"Then get me the head of the CIA on the screen, when you are done with the good Admiral," she instructed.
"Bob is off in Iran, uh, Persia I mean," the Secretary reminded her. "It's into his morning there, so it will be hard to yank him out of whatever he into with the locals now. Why don't you just go with the Deputy? John will probably not know who you are asking about himself, but he can call the right clerk up a lot easier here from Virginia, than Bob can from the Protectorate. And a lot less chance somebody will see the high priority traffic and figure out something is going on." He paused just a second. "Not that anything is going on," he corrected. "You call me up early in the morning to arrest Admirals every Tuesday."
"It's worse than you think," she assured him. "I'm calling you late at night by my lights. I haven't been to bed yet."
"Is this all still working out from Hawaii? Or is this a new fire to put out?" he asked.
"Some fire, new outbreak. I'll tell you tomorrow. Just get me John."
The screen went blank and she turned her gaze out of their feed and told them, "Damn you for being right, but they are covering something major up about Deepwell. I suspect in the end it will be as you've said, or worse even." She looked very tired.
"Do you need something to make you alert President Wiggen?" April asked. "You look like you are very fatigued and that is scary in a person who is making major important decisions."
Wiggen laughed. "You must be concerned if you call me ‘President' Wiggen when you don't have to. It's a hell of a note when you get better advice from your enemies than your allies," she noted. "Adam," she called to the guard, "bring me a coffee and one of those four hour pills. We're five hours ahead of you," she reminded April, if she wasn't familiar with the zones.
The man that appeared on the screen however looked even worse than the President. He watched her swallow a small red pill and told her. "I took one of those four hour pills about five hours ago. Should have taken a eight hour one, but too late now. You can't take ‘em one on top of another. That'll kill ya. What can I do for you Edna? I just got to sleep about twenty minutes ago and can't even focus. If I were you, I wouldn't bet the farm on anything I say right now."
"The mess in Hawaii. There is a man that used to be a DOD civilian employee involved. Japanese looking fellow name of Satos. Can you get your clerks and records checked quickly and see if you know who I am talking about?
"Oh Dear Sweet God. I don't have to check any records," he said leaning his head across his hand, so his eyes were covered. "They told me Satos retired. They swore it was true, not a ruse. Did that silly ass Harrison do something to personally upset the man, as well as Home? He had no idea you don't just indifferently make enemies, left and right. If Homeland Security screwed around with him, Harrison as number three was probably just popped because he was handy in Hawaii. I thought we were rough on Homeland last night, but if Satos is pissed with them, you can start looking for replacements for number One and number Two, ‘cause they're as good as dead. He'll just calmly go down the list from the top, until he feels justice is balanced and I'm not going to throw anyone away, protecting Harrison's friends after last night. If he's after the Patriot Party good enough. It'll save hanging the traitorous sons of bitches later. I'm still sure they've been behind some of the attempts on you."
"I talked to the girl and she called down the bombardment on her spex. Didn't have any apology for it. But I don't think she had any outside motivation, or was acting for anyone but herself."
"I don't know what happened after the lights went out and the feed terminated," he said, "but Harrison had two Navy and two Homeland boys in the studio with him and a set of four of the same, on the roof. The one aircar on the roof was equipped to take the local wireless net down hard, for a half kilometer around. I just can't believe she defeated them all by herself and walked away."
"I may get some information on that soon, but that's all I need from you John. Go back to bed and I'll leave messages for when you awaken."
"Thanks Edna. You take care when your pill runs out too." he closed his window.
"OK," she told her other listeners. "I believe there are things here I needed to know I had withheld from me. And I don't intend to spar with Mr. Satos about his choice of friends. But if you would explain what happened after the feed from the CNN studio ended, I would appreciate that."
"Here's feed from the Public Eye I was wearing on my shoulder," April offered and showed President Wiggen the same segment she had shown her friends earlier.
"You're unnaturally fast, heavily gene modified," Wiggen declared after viewing it, with a hard face and tone of accusation.
"Of course," April replied, refusing to acknowledge anything wrong with that.
"Why," asked Wiggen speaking slowly as if it might not be understood "was it necessary to destroy the Kalaeloa field at Barber's Point? That has all sorts of people both inside my own administration and from the public just calling all the more for war again with Home, to avenge the bombing of us with a nuke. The last time I was updated we had over thirty dead and hundreds of casualties including civilian workers and families housed on and around the field. Everything was shook like an earthquake. They tell me there's a huge crater in the center of the runways, the control tower was knocked down and the planes on the apron all hit individually. A lot of the hangers were damaged. How was any spite for Harrison or Homeland Security served, by hitting the Coast Guard base?"
April screwed her nose up and sort of squinted at Wiggen like she doubted what she heard. "You heard Harrison say he was transporting me to the base, to take somewhere else where I would be imprisoned. So he had the use of forces there against me. If I had left it alone, who knows how quickly his men from the base would have come to rescue him and arrest me? It wasn't exactly a nuke either. You'll find it isn't dirty. There isn't a bunch of fallout to worry about."
"We could have just air burst a big weapon, or several and knocked everything down for miles, but Jon just put one really small weapon under the runways and ruined them. That really minimized damage. So I say he acted really moderately. This isn't a game, where you can complain we play too hard. There are millions of you and a couple thousand of us. If my friends had to kill fifty million of you to save me, they wouldn't hesitate. That's the sort of thing we keep trying to tell you and you people just don't seem to get it. What do we have to do to make you believe? If I knocked California right off the West coast," she said illustrating with a chopping motion of her hand, "so the ocean goes to Nevada, would your people start to get a clue, we're not going to play tit for tat with you?"
Wiggen didn't say anything for a moment. Not because she disagreed, or couldn't answer April, but she saw this as a moment not to say the wrong thing. She really could see California sliding off into the Pacific, if she said just the wrong thing right now, in her fatigued state.
April however took the silence for a lack of belief.
"Maybe you don't think those guys waving guns around in the dark really meant to hurt me. Maybe they were just trying to scare the kid and when they dragged me to the aircar they would have let me loose and said ‘Got ya!' and had a good laugh. Well check this out."
April pulled her shirt up and tried to sit up, but it hurt too much. Lin hurried to help her turn sideways, with her feet off the edge of the lounger and sat up with her side turned to the camera. The discoloration on the ribs had deepened and the swelling was ugly. It was shocking enough to someone like Wiggen, who rarely saw any injury, that they heard her sharp intake of breath.
"And you've been talking with us all this time, hurt like that? I'd think you should laying down, sedated. That happened in the fight you showed me?"
"Hell yes," she said irritated. "What do you think that was when the whole scene jerked sideways and I got knocked down? That was one of Harrison's men, shot me with some big pistol. That's what that slapping sound is when everything jerks. My vest stopped it. The slug was still spread out, stuck on the vest like ten Euro coin when I drove here. But just because it didn't go through, doesn't mean it didn't feel like getting smacked with a sledge hammer. Two of them shot at me, but one connected. I may have got all eight of them and Harrison himself, but it was a technical, not a clean win. The fellow Easy who instructs me on tactics is going to jump all over me, for even allowing any of the opposition to fire a weapon. He'll say it was dumb luck, he didn't shoot me through the head."
Wiggen blinked a couple times, remembering how the Deputy CIA chief couldn't believe the girl could shoot her way out of the CNN studio unaided. "He would expect much better of you?" she asked.
"Oh yeah. I can hear him now saying that I should have found the fourth agent and eliminated him first, not last. I had the sensors in my spex to find him on infrared and I got inpatient and shot the others, just because the lights came on and I felt exposed. I had time to find him if I kept moving. It's easy to see what you should have done in a gun fight, running it through your head later. I can move fast enough they could not have hit me while I found him, even if he was well hidden. But you get a free one once in awhile," she added philosophically. "Next time I'll do better," she promised, assuming with chilling ease, that there would be a next time.
Wiggen was definitely going to leave this little interview for John to view.
"The reason I called - obviously we have some internal dissension right now and this is not a safe place for you to be."
"Yes, even within agencies," April remarked.
Wiggen nodded agreement. "I'd like to pack you off home, but I know you're not going to agree to that. Won't you accept an escort of my own security detail? Then if there is more trouble, perhaps we can resolve it without a major bombardment," she said a bit tight lipped.
"I just killed four of these fellow's service mates. Don't you think they may have a little resentment? I'd worry more about my security turning on me, than who I'd run into."
"I assure you that can be smoothed over. They were being given illegal orders, I would say. That will go a long way toward shifting the blame for what happened to Harrison. You didn't go out looking for them after all. He took them in there to the interview, as a sort of ambush. They really were not tasked with acting for him to arrest people. They were just supposed to be charged with keeping him safe. So if he rushes headlong into a confrontation with someone, he's really making their job impossible."
"That sounds like an wonderful lawyer's explanation of what happened. But in the dark there, I couldn't tell the Homeland Security men trying to arrest me, from the Naval detail trying to protect him. They were all four men with a gun in their hands, wanting to shoot me."
"You're right I'm a lawyer. Most Presidents have been for some time. But in fact I am right, that the protective detail should not have acted against you, to help arrest you. But I'm sure they were correct in their own eyes to target you, once you said his life was forfeit. I did hear you say that didn't I?"
"Yes, but under my law I'm entitled to act, if a person declares his intent to harm me. I am within my rights to act based on believing him."
"From a practical view, I don't think we could expect these men that are trained to protect their charge to say, Wait a minute. She has the right to shoot him now. We can't defend him. He's on his own for saying that. After all they aren't lawyers to arrive at such a convoluted conclusion, when faced with such a hard legal concept. I could," she admitted. "I wouldn't expect their training to cover such a bizarre situation even. It will be awkward if you can't accept a detail, because I'll have to try to surround you with some kind of protection and they will have a hard time doing that from a distance. And they'll have to scramble to follow you, when you move unannounced. You might even miss a person who intends to harm you in the crowd, if you don't know the players. Can't we reach some sort of accommodation?" she asked.
"Give me just a second to consult with someone will you?" April asked.
Wiggen nodded an assent.
April muted her pad and turned to Papa-san. "You know better how these sort of organizations work than me," she pleaded. "If she tries to build a wall around me like that, it sounds like it will be a major pain in the butt. I'd just tell her no and go on to visit the European Union, but I want to get my two guys out of North America. What can I do to make her happy and not be cut off from everything, by a mob of security shadowing me everywhere. I know they have so many assets, they can make my life miserable. Like - if I buy an airline ticket - they can kick everyone else off and fill every seat with their agents. What can I do?"
"I don't know if she'll buy it, but try to negotiate her down to just sending a body guard. Tell her you want quality not quantity. Ask for one or two older experienced agents, not some hot shot young guy, who will be gung-ho about making a fuss around you in public."
April thought about it a little and how security worked on Home. "On Home," she explained I'd rather have Jon Davis the head of Security guarding me, that any of his agents. He teaches them all, but when you get right down to it he's death on wheels and better than any of them. Do you think here, they have one exceptional agent like that, who supervises the training of the others, I can ask for?"
"You can try, but he's probably older, so they won't be assigning him for actual protective duty and his bosses will probably fight having him loaned out tooth and nail, because once you get someone like that it's a fight to keep him from being stolen away, or retiring. On the other hand, they'd be happy they don't have to lose someone from an active group, that's all committed to guard someone else. They must be stretched pretty thin the way things are right now. Last thing anyone will want to do, is actually pull experienced protection off Wiggen. That's amazing she was offering any of her own detail. I'd bet she hasn't ran that idea past them, or they would be screaming. Ask her for the firearms instructor, or the armorer for her detail. Make sure she knows if he's older you'd like that."
April went back to Wiggen. "Look," she said, "I don't want to pull a big mob of agents off other duty, when you have so much to cover anyway. I don't want a big detail, that will be like a damn parade going down the road, if I want to go shopping. And for sure I don't want a bunch to try to manage me at every turn. How about just temporarily assigning me the guy, who is so skilled he instructs your other agents in firearms and tactics, or is their armorer? Whoever is like the head couch of your team. He's probably older and I'd be more comfortable with him than a young man for my own privacy. I'm used to an older instructor, like my man Easy. Hell, we'd even stripped down together in combat, when we come out of p-suits and had to clean up and he doesn't ogle you like a kid would, ‘cause it's just nothing he hasn't seen before," April could see an amused grin on Papa-san at that. "Would you ask your folks if they have a guy like that? Of course you can give him authority to call in other resources, if he sees he needs them."
Wiggen frowned. "One man isn't much of a guard," she protested. "I had a bit more in mind than that."
"It's lots of protection, if it's the right one," April insisted. "After you've seen me shoot now, would you rather have me guarding you, or the eight they sent to guard Harrison?" she asked pointedly.
Wiggen sat and thought about that a moment and grinned unexpectedly. "You're very persuasive with words. Are you sure you don't have a future in politics yourself?"
April just bit her tongue. Firmly. Papa-san filled the silence. "If April wishes to accept a body guard, we have room and no problem accommodating another guest."
"Thank you," April said, pleased she wouldn't have to leave.
Wiggen left the split screen open still and called the guard over. "I don't want to wake your Captain again. Who trains you men on weapons and teaches you tactics and so forth?"
"Our chief firearms instructor is Gunny Mack. He's armorer for the outfit also. He has a good size crew who work under him, but he's the main man. He programs our walk-throughs on the virtual range and is the one that grades and passes or cuts us," he hesitated.
"What are you reluctant to say sailor?"
"Begging your pardon Ma'am. In my very junior opinion, he's tremendously competent."
"Thanks, lieutenant. I'll contact him this morning."
"OK, April," She still sounded awkward saying that. "I have a man like you are talking about. I'll send him out later today. With those ribs, I would say you are going to rest a few days before you go out dancing anyway, so I'll send him on military transport and he'll be there quick enough. If you have any issue you really can't resolve with him or his commander, you can call me at this address. It's private if you please.
"But you haven't asked him to come yet," April protested.
"When the President asks, it's a thinly veiled order," she assured her. "He'll be coming tomorrow. He just doesn't know he volunteered yet." She stopped and looked at April thinking. "There is a dinner for the new German Ambassador in a couple weeks. If we're both alive, would you care to attend a state dinner on your ‘vacation' here?"
"I'd be honored President Wiggen. Thank you for asking me."
"That's fine. I'd rather see you face to face sometime and it will irritate all sorts of people, who it will give me joy to irritate," she said smiling. "Good night," she disconnected.
"That was strange," Papa-san told her. A person like President Wiggen doesn't just call someone up direct. They always have a secretary or an aide call and get whoever they want on the phone, before they come on themselves. They must be having a pretty bad night, if procedures are that loose."
"What was she talking about when she said that her guards were sitting close in the room with her because it had been a night of the long knives? I know she wasn't coining a phrase. I could hear the quotes around it, when she said it. Is it classical literature? Shakespeare?"
"In the European Wars you know who Hitler was?" Papa-san asked.
"Sure, Dictator of the Third Reich, who fought the Americans and allies in the Second European War, the same time as the Japanese fought them in the First Atomic War."
"Yes. Most historians lumped them together and called it the Second World War when I was growing up. If you read the documents of the time they regarded it as two fronts of one war, when they fought it. It's just recently historians have tried to separate them, to fit the way people look at wars now. Anyway, Hitler came to power in Germany using a bunch of street thugs, called the brown shirts, or the SA. But they were so brutal and lawless and scared the public so badly, that he almost lost power, because Germany came close to declaring martial law under the regular army to control them. So he had a smaller faction of the brown shirts, what they called the SS, who were a little more trained and disciplined, round up the other out of control elements he had used and just summarily executed most of them. Maybe a thousand. Nobody really knows how many. He very publicly said he had no apology for acting as High Judge outside the law to save his country and nobody called him on it. Nobody called him on the fact that he was the one put it in peril to need saving. That was when he really consolidated his absolute personal power over the larger part of his society, by dropping this radical faction that he had rode to power. It was a pretty slick transition to pull off and that's what it's known as now, The Night of the Long Knives."
"I know she wouldn't draw a comparison between her government and Hitler's," April said, looking bewildered. "But is she trying to draw a parallel between Homeland Security and these brown shirts?"
"Perhaps you should ask her at dinner," Papa suggested. "It might make for some interesting conversation." He smiled to himself picturing that.
"You seem to really enjoy history," April remarked.
"Oh, I love history. That's the field in which I was awarded my first doctorate," he said to her surprise.
Chapter 38
Gunny Mack Tindal woke up to a new day relaxed. He just wiped his face with a washcloth for now and would shower later. He put on shorts and a tight pair of running shoes without socks. He knew all the arguments against that, but didn't care. He didn't like socks. As long as he retired his shoes for running as soon as they started to lose shape, he never got blisters. He dropped and did rolling setups while the coffee brewed, half decaff, half regular. He'd have just a tiny cup before running. The room around him held a hundred reminders of his wife, dead three years now, but it seemed like last week.
She had died at work suddenly, a shock to him and everyone who knew her. Sitting at her desk looking at her screen she had felt a sudden pop in her chest and only had time to briefly wonder with surprise what that odd sensation could be, as the undetected aneurism let loose. He was glad she had not died slowly in pain, as too many do. But he felt faintly betrayed. The husband usually dies first. Especially when he is older and Mack was by four years. They had planned to travel in retirement, as they always enjoyed doing with what vacation time they had. He already qualified to retire if he wished and was waiting for her to reach that goal she never would now.
He could go ahead and retire now, but it seemed so pointless at the moment. Traveling alone, he would be constantly thinking how he wished she were with him. He had enough money. They had always been frugal. They kept the same house they raised their three children in and by a fluke of location and timing, it alone had appreciated to a small fortune. Anna had insurance at work, insurance from her professional association and a hefty term policy they had bought to cover her while the kids were growing up. They had talked about canceling that when she turned forty-five and the payment went up, but hadn't quite got around to it.
If he could have been honest with himself about it, he was still a bit depressed and just starting to work out the last of his mourning. He had just kept plugging along in his job, not so much because he loved it, as he told himself, as that it very effectively filled the time. So now that he was working all that out, he didn't understand why instead of feeling better, he was just slipping into a different sort of funk he didn't understand and couldn't label. In truth he had not yet discovered he was bored. If you had suggested it he would have denied it.
For example he knew too well exactly what he was going to do today. He'd do seventeen more sit-ups, drink a six ounce coffee. Run six and a half miles, turning right from his drive because he turned left yesterday and return to a light breakfast, shower and dress in a duty uniform for his drive to work. He had a shipment of new nine millimeter Glocks at work to disassemble and he'd be instructing the new fellow Rewold how to hand deburr and radius any corners and edges not to his liking and replace a small number of parts with aftermarket items.
He knew where he'd eat lunch and what he'd have. In the afternoon he had three lieutenants from the protection detail, to re-qualify on a walk through combat pistol evaluation. If any of them failed he'd formulate a week long refresher course and requalify them, or send them for a medical and psychological work up, if they could not requalify from the refresher.
He drank his coffee, stretching between sips, getting ready to hit the door when his phone rang. He usually didn't carry it running. He was not on one of the strict lists, required to be always available for contact, but he answered it, sure it would be something he could clear in a moment and get to his run.
"Gunny, this is Captain Yoder. Captain Ridley is temporarily removed from active duty and unable to deal with matters of the protective services. President Wiggen has asked me to brief you on a special assignment on her behalf. Report to my office at your start time and bring your personal keys. While you are on this special temporary duty, if there are any items that need canceled such as a paper, or any pets or house plants, I was instructed to have them taken care of by the State Department. I'll have someone here you can instruct what needs done and return your car home for you."
"You should also bring a light bag, with a couple changes of civilian clothing, suitable for a Hawaiian climate and any medications or personal items you'll need for about a month. You'll be acting as solo bodyguard to a very special foreign VIP, on behalf of the President, so you are free to carry whatever personal weapon you prefer and you are free to draw any heavier weapon you'd care to take from your armory. You'll be getting expedited military transport, so you can carry everything in cabin with no problem. Do you have any questions or problems with this assignment?" His tone of voice made clear, he didn't want to hear any objections.
For Gunny the last remaining wisps of depressive fog dissipated at the Captain's words. He was going to do something different today and his mind snapped back into the clearest focus he'd felt in years. He took a deep breath and felt wonderful. "Yes Sir. Could you have someone bring a few items I know I'll be short to your office and I'll leave room for them in my bags?"
"Certainly Gunny. The President herself made very clear you are to be given anything within our power to provide. That's the most generous support doctrine I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. Wish we heard it more often, don't you know?"
"Yes Sir, wish we did." Gunny for his part, was astonished a strange captain was being chatty with him. He guessed when the President talked you up, it gave you a certain status beside any rank. Now if he could just find out how the devil she latched on to him for this duty, he'd know sooner if it was a plum or a booby prize.
"I'd like two boxes of long twelve gauge shells with tungsten flechettes, a nice Panama hat size seven and five eighths, two compact anti-personnel concussion grenades, a bottle of high factor sun screen, a pair of baggy swim trunks size extra large and a dozen Snickers bars. Thank You Sir, I'll be there quickly," he promised.
Captain Yoder hung up amused and tore the list off his old fashioned desk pad. His aide would go nuts over the crazy combination of items to run down. Not just a Panama he noted, a nice one. That's OK he thought, it'll keep my man on his toes. Gunny Mack was everything he had heard rumored. Not a single normal question, when asked to take off half way around the world on a bizarre mission, just an unhesitating laundry list with Snickers bars. Maybe he was as good as they say.
Gunny showered quickly and dressed in loose clothes and soft shoes for a long plane ride. In his biggest soft bag went a full dress uniform, carefully folded since he could not hang it. He didn't care what Yoder said about civvies, he wanted it available if he was guarding a VIP. Then after half the bag was full, elastic waist shorts and t-shirts, some beach pants and flip flops and a floppy hat. In his pockets went a small folding knife, a compact LED flashlight and his wallet. A very expensive compact com pad went on his belt, with spex in a hard case. Around his waist went a fanny pack, with a compact nine millimeter on a scandium alloy frame with titanium alloy barrel and four magazines. His passport and ID went in the same pack. Around his neck went a braided cord with a slim carbon fiber knife hanging in a slim sheath, upside down.
He stood looking at the long case parked on a wheeled carrier against the wall. The man said any personal weapons he wanted. The chances he would ever actually use a bench rest rifle were pretty slim, even if he got some free time to shoot as recreation and if he took the gun he needed the bench kit and the shooting table. They didn't have prairie dogs in Hawaii anyway, did they? He left it, but went out the door cheerier than he had been in months. He was actually humming, even though he missed his run. The little econo-box he drove was packed full.
At his office he laid a paper pad out and noted from whom his computer access could be obtained and the few really urgent things that needed done. Yoder had failed to formally tell him who would be taking care of his present duty, but this was the least he could do for them. Then he took a SWAT style carrier and loaded a .30 caliber rifle set up for sniper duty, a pistol grip shotgun with a powered magazine, a very compact H & K submachine gun with a field service kit for it and a very special ammo pack. He also packed a surveillance package with remote sound and camera units, that could be deployed ballistically from what looked like a flare gun, or just thrown by hand. He added a couple snoop robots about the size of a grasshopper, that used the same display as the other sensors and a normal Frisbee drone. There was another kit that basically allowed you to spoof and defeat someone else's sensor suite. Last he added a tiny kit that would allow you to put a tracking chip on a person or vehicle. All the electronics fit in about a liter volume. He felt funny signing everything out. He was used to the other side of the counter, so to speak. When it came to the authorization and command of issue he hesitated. So far he just had a verbal from Yoder.
He paused and reflected on how well he knew the man. He didn't think he would be involved with any strange political actions, but he didn't know the man enough to risk his neck. He expected written orders when he got to the man's office and didn't expect to actually speak to the President. But he better cover his butt in case anything wasn't kosher and he was walking around with all this weaponry. It felt funny too but he hand wrote: By personal order of the President, for detached duty per verbal orders. Reporting to receive written orders from Captain Yoder. That should cover him, along with the call he'd automatically recorded on his pad. He was so early there were not any of his techs in yet. It just never even occurred to him anyone might challenge the Master Sergeant carrying out anything he pleased. He went out with two more bags almost fully equipped.
When he reported to Captain Yoder the items he requested were sitting on the corner of the man's desk. He had to have a pretty efficient staff to get them that fast. He was handed a credit card in his name and an Aerospace Force emblem on the face. He peeled the tab and set it to his genome. He was pleased to see whoever rounded things up, had laid out three swim trunks so he'd have a choice. He asked for the flash bangs, as much to see if anyone would argue with him, as much as really wanting them. Current protocol in the protective details he supplied excluded them. It appeared, since they supplied them, that they really intended to allow him to operate fairly independently.
Yoder handed him orders on the usual forms and a letter with the President's actual signature on it, detailing his tasking. A second letter formalized the action as a Presidential finding. It actually gave him a chill up his back, that anyone thought that might be necessary. There were travel documents and the a collection of briefs in individual folders. One for April, one for her host Satos, that had a different cover with a special trim along the edge.
"It took a direct order from the president to get this folder released to you. I was emphatically told not to look at it and that I would be subject to testing and verification later to assure I had not. She had to issue another finding, to upgrade your security clearance without a lengthy investigation. They still didn't want to release it without a guard to accompany it, until you had finished reading it. If you finish reading it, there will a lady from State meeting you, who you can give it to when you land in Hawaii. She's the only one you'll meet you can unload it on."
Gunny nodded easy agreement. Too easy for Yoder's comfort. Yoder launched into a briefing on April's visit, including a video of the airport fiasco, the CNN interview at lunch with Lin, the running scene at the beach and the final CNN interview right up to the lights out and then the video off her public eye she had shared with the President. He also showed an aerial view of her new home.
"Homeland boys bit off a bit more than they could chew, didn't they?" was the extent of his comment on the gun fight, ignoring the naval involvement.
"So, as you can see, she is heavily augmented with genetic modification," Yoder stated, in case he hadn't figured it out.
"Very likely, yes," he agreed. "I recognize her from the news a year, year and a half ago. I forget the story but recognize the face. I have seen three people before as fast as her and I am sure they were all natural humans, but it's very rare. I agree she has had mods to maximize her reactions and possibly ultimate strength and metabolism, but they all fall within the extreme range you find in natural humans. As far as I know nobody is changing the basic structures of the body they have to work with, though I don't doubt they will."
That surprised Yoder and he looked thoughtful, "That makes sense to me. You still have the limits of the basic mechanism to work with. But where did you personally see such frighteningly fast people?"
"Two of them were the Champion and runner up, at the National Combat Pistol competition. I have a picture of one of them engaging a group of three pop up targets. One target is driven over almost down, the second is pushed back falling and the man is holding the weapon aimed on the third with the trigger depressed waiting for the pistol to cycle shut so it can fire. The empty cases from the first two shots are still climbing in the air in the pic. The third fellow was a Fleet Champ boxer. He was so fast he'd hit the other fellow and your eye couldn't follow it. Even when you slowed it down on the video it still looked fast in slow motion. In life you'd see him twitch and the other fellow would be falling down. Your eye would catch the start and finish of the motion but the middle action was too fast to register on your brain. Scary people," he agreed, but failed to mention he'd placed third in the combat pistol competition.
"Yes," he looked thoughtful, but didn't pursue it. "There's a driver waiting for you. The President emphasized you were to be give any resources. After seeing the videos is there anything else you need before getting underway?"
"Sir, The personal information is going to be valuable," he said touching the folders. "If it can be made available, I'd like information on Satos' family and any household help they have. Especially this daughter that is a reporter and her boss. I realize it may be as sensitive as Satos' bio, but I'd very much like a brief on Harrison, who tried to arrest her."
"About that house she just bought, I'd like to see a team put it under an external observation, so nobody can sneak in and leave any surprises, or set an ambush. They will need my com address. I'd like a set of Hawaiian language lessons sent to my pad please. I can see Kalaeloa is out of commission, but if there are any other fields on the Island that can stand tactical aircraft at runway alert, I'd appreciate an address to call. I'd like them ordered ahead of time to accept mission tasking from me. It would be a huge help, if the alert crew had appropriate ordnance hung for close in ground support. I have a standard designator."
"I'd also like an address that I can call up to get whatever satellite image support is available. Those items would still not put me on a par with the support this young woman seems to have, on an everyday basis, but it would narrow the gap. I'd hate to be in the position of begging her assistance. If they could have some breakfast sandwiches and coffee on the plane, that would be very nice."
"You certainly are not shy when somebody hands you a blank check Master Sergeant," Yoder told him, with raised eyebrows at his audacity. "I'll see what I can do and have everything catch up to you on your plane." He stood up to dismiss him and went beyond to offer his hand. Gunny appreciated that.
The plane they delivered him to was a pretty little thing. White with Air Force markings instead of Navy. It was a six seat Rutan-Embraer with the adjustable spread V tail and the thin blade of a canard up front, that folded back flush to the fuselage at speed. The main wings didn't fold back. Instead they retracted to a stub and changed geometry radically. That meant no room for tanks, so all the fuel had to be in the fuselage, which was a trapezoidal lifting shape. This was the military version of a very pricy biz jet and capable of cruising at Mach 1.8 at about twenty thousand meters. The military only added com gear and missile protection. Gunny had never expected to get a ride in one.
It took just a moment to realize the only other person in the cabin was assigned as an attendant and the entire flight was for him. That made him feel how extraordinary this whole affair was, as much as seeing the President's signature on his orders. They stowed his gear in the flight cabin without him asking, instead of the baggage compartments. He appreciated that. They departed and climbed out with some hast and the sky turned dark outside through the tiny port as they leveled off.
The steward stirred about once they were stable and poured a wonderful cup of coffee. Then came back with the breakfast sandwiches he had requested. They weren't just something grabbed at a fast food place on the way. They obviously had been prepared in a VIP flight kitchen just for him. This is the way to travel he decided, quite amused. He loosened his seat belt a bit and invited the steward to relax and have a cup of coffee with him if he wanted. He opened the folder with the bright stripped edge and started reading. He could see the steward's eyes get big at the cover. Apparently, he knew what those bright striped edge markings meant.
* * *
April had not had wanted any help bathing before, uncomfortable with servants, but was grateful for the help today. Adzusa's maid scrubbed everywhere she could not reach easy with her left hand, which was about three quarters of her body she discovered. She just leaned on the shower wall with both forearms and let her scrub away. It wasn't near as much fun as Heather and Jeff in the shower.
It felt so odd as an adult person, to have someone diligently scrubbing, even between her toes. She was very gentle around her ribs, folding the cloth repeatedly and using it with a gentle swirling motion just like a brush. It hardly hurt at all. She sat back on the edge of the bed to finish being dried and let her work her pants over her feet, just like dressing a child, until she could grasp the waist band without bending.
Then she took both hands in hers and pulled April erect from the edge of the bed, straight legged, so she didn't have to strain to stand up near as much. Once she was vertical, a few tugs and tucks finished everything. If she could avoid constantly insulting the injured area, maybe it would heal faster.
She was sitting down with Papa-san to breakfast, about the time Gunny Mack was dropping into San Diego to refuel. Adzusa and Lin had gone off to town for something and she was enjoying chatting with Papa-san alone. He was telling a few stories about his working days. He spoke in generalities, but it was still interesting even without naming names. She repeated Easy's story, about Jan Hagen showing up for parachute drop in a tuxedo, with a gift wrapped package. He enjoyed that.
* * *
When they landed in San Diego Gunny was surprised to see his steward open a cabinet and slip on a ballistic vest. He also pulled a heavy machine pistol from the storage, that was too small to be called a machine gun, but too big to fit in any holster. Instead he hung it on his chest, with a belt that clipped under a retaining strap on one shoulder. Two double magazines went in pockets in the vest. That seemed unusual security for a plane landing and provisioning on a Naval base. After considering the implications of the man's actions, Gunny retrieved the fanny pack with his pistol from the next seat, where he had set it and put it on with the bag to the front sitting in his lap. He ran the zipper all the way back and turned the insert around, so it was right handed again while in the front.
The requested reports did catch up with him in San Diego and a Navy man came aboard after a thorough ID check from the steward, with a thick pile of folders and numbers to contact the requested support in Hawaii, he explained what kind of alert aircraft normally were active in Hawaii and detailed what kind of ordnance they would hang on them at his disposal. "All I have to say is, I've worked with some unusual special forces and spooks fella, but I've never seen them hold aircraft on runway alert and configure them at one man's call. You have to have one hell of a lot of pull."
"Not usually Sir," Gunny assured him, "But this is at the President's personal direction."
"That would explain it," he allowed. "Tindal you have two options here. I can leave you aboard this aircraft, which is already being refueled and send you on, or I can stuff you in a combat aircraft that won't be as comfortable. It would be faster , but by the time you suit up and get instructed in ejection and other procedures here and unsuit at the other end, it will about even out. It's just I was told to expedite you, so you tell me what suits you. I have to warn you though," he said giving Gunny an appraising eye, "I might have some trouble fitting you with gear. Did they kind of fudge the numbers to let you in the service? You look like you are right on the edge of the envelope for size. Which would you like?" he asked.
"I'd just as soon stay here with a head and be able to relax, read these folders and have lunch on the way. I don't really have any desire to rush to get stuffed in a p-suit and arrive there all frazzled, when I may need to be alert. You're right too, I enlisted at eighteen and I wasn't quite through growing. It's harder for them to kick you out, than never let you in, but it has been a hassle fitting in issue gear," he explained. "I've never been up in a fighter and it would be fun, but not when I have duty at the other end to attend to. Thanks anyway," he said sincerely.
"Nice to meet somebody with some sense," the officer said. "If you ever want that joyride in a hot plane, just for fun, come see me and I'll take care of you," he offered and jotted down his contact info on a small note for Gunny, before he hustled down the stairs. Gunny put that precious little document in his wallet.
In a few minutes a luggage truck approached and delivered two insulated boxes, he figured must be their meals and other in flight supplies. He noticed the steward waved the man off that delivered to stop well away and brought it aboard himself, but not before he looked inside both carefully. The way the man examined each item and then tipped the container and studied the bottom, made him sure the man wasn't concerned he might have been given roast beef instead of pastrami. Gunny knew the drill and the man was making sure he didn't carry anything aboard that would go BOOM. In fact Gunny admired the man's techniques and thoroughness. They had experts in to teach the President's protective detail a lot of the same things.
That and the vest and armament made him worry. He was used to providing such protection, not receiving it himself. Was the man concerned someone might be a threat to his passenger specifically? The more he thought about it, the more he decided he better adjust his attitude. He had relaxed and felt safe, just because he was on a base and in a military vehicle. But what he already knew, should have told him that Harrison's Patriot Party had resources in the military, beyond his own people in Homeland Security.
Anything that supported April, including Ma Tindal's favorite son, could be a target and he better stop relaxing and go into a cynical threat analysis mode, long before he actually joined up with his charge. If somebody removed him long before he could even reach her, it opened up all sorts of possibilities. Someone might even have a bodyguard waiting to suggest as an alternative, who was compromised.
The more he thought about it the more he worried just how deep the man Harrison's political organization penetrated the military and how deeply they influenced service members, if there was a conflict between their loyalty to the Commander in Chief and their private politics. He found himself contemplating things he really didn't want to consider. OK he resolved, eyes narrowing and lips curling back. I thought I was on vacation for a couple hours and this would be easy duty. No more of that crap!
The steward came back aboard and sealed the cabin door up. When he turned to say something to Gunny, the change on Gunny's face made him take a step back. Gunny smiled at him and it didn't help at all.
Chapter 39
The reports Gunny read all seemed very concise, yet covered the people well. He had more than a set of facts about them; he thought he had a good feel for each one's personality. Whoever assembled the data into the final reports, he was pretty sure were all edited by the same person. It had a casual writing style, that was not your usual government document and as far as Gunny was concerned that was a plus. The report on Harrison however was a piece of fluff. It was obviously written by a civil servant type and read like a press release to hostile media. If he believed it, Harrison had been nominated to his party's candidacy almost as an accident and he had no special power or agenda, other than a long and spotless record as a public servant. His family and educational background was ignored and his service record outlined in the sparest detail. Someone went to great deal of trouble, to make sure he knew less about the man than a simple net search would have found. It stank.
Near landing the crew called him forward and invited him to share their superior view. He had asked them to call ahead and get them cleared to over fly Kalaeloa Airport, before going across the bay to land at the civilian field. They extended the low speed wing ends and then he saw the canards swing into place on each side, easily visible from the cockpit. When they got really close, they were talking with each other and controllers.
He heard a command to the copilot about deploying spoilers and when the man pulled a couple levers back, Gunny actually had to hold himself off the seat backs from the braking action. The nose picked up just slightly and there was a new roughness to the ride, felt instead of heard. Almost like going from one sort of pavement to another in a ground car. The view of the coast they had been approaching swiftly, suddenly slowed to a relative crawl. They dropped faster too, until when they crossed the surf, the detail of the waves was easy to see.
Suddenly they banked as the pilot responded to some command from a controller Gunny could not hear and the runways were right before them. The crossed double runways were punctuated, right at the center of the X with a huge crater. Even if the ends that remained, or a taxiway had enough length to take off, the overlaying dirt excavated from the crater would have prevented it. There was now a very large bulldozer and several front loaders, busy putting all the dirt back in the hole. The soil had been thrown so far some of it was piled against the face of hangers. But they already had a ramp down one side of the hole.
"How can they be working in the crater without moon suits?" the copilot asked aloud, first of the pilot and then with a glance over his shoulder, let Gunny know the question was meant to include him. "I thought it would be too hot for at least a couple weeks."
Gunny grabbed his own ear between index and thumb and wiggled it. The copilot got a sudden look of understanding and flipped a toggle switch overhead, but left his hand on it. He reached up with the other hand and actually tapped the boom mic in front of his face to double check it. "OK, our mics are muted, sorry."
"It wasn't a mini-nuke. They have some other sort of weapon we don't really know much about. There are probably some prompt soft X-rays, but no residual radiation. Forget you heard that from me though. Somebody probably thinks it should be a secret, even with this out in front of God and every spy satellite in the sky."
"Thanks," the crewman said and flipped the switch back, obviously uncomfortable to keep it muted any longer than necessary." The pilot spoke softly in his mic, rolled the plane around in a surprisingly tight turn and descended even lower.
"Look off the end of the North West leg of the X, over towards the hangers. That was Harrison's plane, the fellows in the tower tell me. I described you as a VIP involved in the shake out of this, who wanted a look-see, so he told me what to point out. The ones beyond it were some Coast Guard helicopters and a couple transports. The civilian planes off to the East got a pass, but the blast flipped some of them over, even if they were tied down.
The plane in question had probably been about the size of what he was in, but all that was left of it were the tail and one wing, sitting back from a blackened crater busted through the concrete. The line of Coastie aircraft parked behind it was a line of similar craters.
When they pulled up and turned to go back over the ocean, Gunny noted a cluster of similar craters on the perimeter of the field. "Have any idea what that was?" Gunny asked.
"That would have been an anti-ballistic site," the pilot informed him. "There is a system centered on Hickman to the East and its radar got hit when it illuminated the incoming stuff and changed mode when it tracked them. I'm pretty familiar with these systems," he confided.
"The separate site here would have automatically switched to independent operation and tried a terminal defense using lidar and very short range missiles and then electronic canon. Obviously it didn't do much good. There are a few of the small craters out in the field, where there was no target, so I'd assume they had some success deflecting a few incoming weapons. But then the spacers overwhelmed the point defenses and went back to single shot mode, after removing the defense. They held back the big cratering round until they clearly had suppressed any defense. The whole action lasted about three minutes."
"Is it bad over at Hickman too?" Gunny wondered.
"Nope – one scratched radar and no casualties. Rather restrained really, but don't quote me. We're on approach for Honolulu. I'd feel better if you'd strap in Chief." he requested.
They taxied down to the business aviation end of the field on landing. The engines were running burning fuel, instead of shutting them down and using the electric drive in the landing gear. That indicated they intended to take right back off. When gunny went down the stairs, the view off the rear of the plane was a shimmer of heat distortion from the idling engines. The Honda engines were remarkably quiet at idle though.
There was a full size Audi sedan waiting for him. He was glad they did not make a spectacle with a limo. The steward was already helping the driver of the car stow Gunny's gear in the trunk. He resisted the urge to make sure they were treating his stuff right. He opened his own door since the fellow was occupied and was greeted by Carol Jordan from the State Department. She offered her hand quickly and if there was any resentment at his being involved he couldn't detect it. He took her card.
"Ms Jordan, I saw you on the video of Miss Lewis entering. Thank you for meeting me."
"Yes, I've seen those vids too. It didn't go very well. I'm afraid I misjudged and took the wrong tone with Miss Lewis and once I made a miss-step with her she was put off by me and I never recovered. I put myself in her position at that age and thought she would be uncomfortable and perhaps even a bit afraid in a strange place far from home. She turned out to be a completely different person than I was at that age."
"I certainly wouldn't second guess you, when I wasn't there," Gunny allowed. "If it could have gone better, it certainly could have gone worse. At least Honolulu is still here," he pointed out. "Harrison seemed to put her off more than you ever did. Tell me. Did you get any sense that she was looking for trouble? Did she have a chip on her shoulder?"
"No, but she has no patience for bureaucracy I can tell you. What did Harrison do to her anyway? Everyone I've asked has declined to fill me in."
"You haven't seen the video of what went down in the studio?" he asked surprised.
"Only up until there was a bang and the lights went out."
Gunny pulled the disk out of his papers and played in for her on her own laptop.
"Jeez, she took out all of them and survived. I wondered if she was bluffing, when she got in our face in the airport…" She left unsaid she had no such thoughts now. "Where did you get this recording? I mean not you, but what was the original source? The viewpoint…" she started to say and then decided not to.
"Miss Lewis gave a copy to President Wiggen when they had occasion to chat. It's a copy off a public eye she was wearing. I don't see any need to play that interview for you, but she made no effort to hide this, no apology at all, just an attitude of "Threaten me and my people and you die sucker." It's a really interesting diplomatic stance for your department to deal with, so they certainly should have shown it to you. Save the file you just made running it." He suggested, taking back the disk.
"Won't you get in trouble for sharing?" Carol wondered.
"The President gave me Carte Blanc to protect Miss Lewis. If anybody asks, I'll inform them giving you this information served that purpose. I didn't ask for this job and I could be retired right now if I wanted. If they can convince Wiggen to fire me, some other poor slob in the protective services can have the joy of guarding her."
"You are protecting her?" Carol asked. "If anybody starts shooting at her, I suggest you make like a rug and stay the hell out of her line of fire. I'm no expert but that video looked like they didn't stand a chance."
"She's fast and she doesn't shoot too badly, but did you see on the video she took a round in the side? She should never have allowed that. I have to have a fatherly little talk with her about risk taking, if I'm going to be responsible for her safety."
Carol shut up, afraid she would say something stupid. She couldn't see how anybody could critique what she had seen, but she wanted to stay on good terms with this man.
"Oh and I want to give this to you, so I don't have to lug it around," he pulled out the security folder with the stripped edging.
"Crap - one of those. Do you affirm under penalty of law, you have not copied or altered any of this document?"
"Sure Carol. We were sort of short on copiers in the biz jet and I didn't doodle in the margins or anything." He said, amused.
"Then I relieve you of it and will write you a receipt." She said, totally unamused and formal.
"Where are we headed anyway?" Gunny asked.
"I assumed you'd want transport to the Satos home, where April is in residence. I was told her host specifically welcomed your presence."
"Indeed I do, but were you just going to drop me off? I'm used to having my own transport. I certainly don't want to be in the position of asking my host for a ride."
"If you give the Department a call, we'll send a car and driver anytime you wish."
"Carol, if I'm on a leash, it is President Wiggen's leash. Nobody else is going to manage me like that. I'll buy my own transport, before I sit around twiddling my thumbs every time I want a car, waiting for you to get fresh bugs installed, so you can snoop on me."
"I can order you given a clean vehicle," Carol assured him.
"You could, but see? You didn't say you would. Sorry, but you just automatically go for the weasel word. I have no inclination to struggle playing word games with lawyers, when I have a serious assignment that requires my concentration."
"Very well, I'm under orders to supply anything you need. Tell me what you require."
"Does this vehicle have any ballistic protection?"
"Moderately. It can stop small arms and it protects against small explosives underneath."
"Call for another vehicle to meet us somewhere. You and your driver transfer and I'll keep this vehicle. If it is bugged, tell me how many and where, or take them with you."
"Very well," She called her office and arranged a rendezvous. They drove in unfriendly silence to the edge of a parking lot, belonging to very nice restaurant. A large dark green SUV was waiting and the transfer was made quickly with little conversation."
"There is a bug in the dome light, but it will be remotely deactivated," Carol said.
Gunny noticed she didn't say when it would be deactivated.
Once the State Department vehicle left, Gunny pulled his phone and dialed a number. He put an ear bud in and studied the map in the dash.
"He's a very difficult fellow," Carol's voice said in his ear. Gunny activated one of the two bugs he's left clipped to her skirt, to drop off and seek a crack or corner to conceal itself. "The man has dangerous delusions of independence."
"How far back should I tail him?" her driver asked.
"We know where he is going. Just hang back well out of sight and we will only catch up if he gets in trouble and we have to save his bacon."
Gunny got his flush cutters and snipped off the stubby little antenna by the rear window, that was both satellite and cellular connection. Most of the satellites were destroyed a year ago and few replaced, so the cellular link was likely the only active one. As he expected, the State Department driver announced he lost his tracking, almost the instant he felt the wires sever.
He got back in the car, eased over the curb and ran down a small tree and a couple bushes, but made it across the landscaping into the parking lot behind the restaurant, with only a few minor scrapes of the undercarriage. He was in the rear of some sort of medical building and pulled around it into the next street. He drove the direction away from the Satos' home. When he saw a large condominium development, he pulled in to park out of sight and consult the map on his phone.
"Do you want to call in help and search for him?" Carol's driver asked.
"No, he made his petty point. He can play at independence until he needs something. I'll know anything he buys with the credit card and if anyone asks what he is doing, we can honestly say he cut us loose and doesn't want his elbow jiggled. Less risk for us really. Take me back to the office, John."
"Yes Ma'am."
Gunny posted in the Honolulu Daily Trader and Free Board: Need ride, aprox. 27 miles to suburbs from PalmAire Condos. $500 offered. Luggage and one male. Solo drivers able to show current license only. Within the next hour pays bonus cash. Prepared to be generous, for prompt and discrete service. Reply to this address to lock/schedule job.
The first message offered a ride, but indicated the man had a couple cousins who needed to come along. He just replied: "NO." After a few more minutes a message arrived. "Licensed driver with pickup truck. You must share ID before ride. Half cash up front. Can arrive ten to twelve minutes," he replied: "Acceptable. Will be in second lot on left from south entry. Waiting in a full size white Audi. Will load own luggage."
The pickup was old and boxy, but he noted the tires were good and it ran smoothly when it stopped. He went to the driver's window and offered his driver's license for ID.
"You have any objection if I tell my sister your name and address?" she asked, cell phone in hand.
"Not at all. You can tell her you are delivering me to this address if you wish too." He showed her the Satos address and a map on his phone and she repeated it to her sister. She showed him a local license, the first name Dolores and the last name an unpronounceable Hawaiian name, but held her finger over the address. He didn't mind. The photo matched and a girl has to be careful.
He offered her two-hundred and fifty in cash and she tucked it in her jeans. When he opened the trunk and transferred his bags, he wondered if she'd drive off and keep the half fee for no work, but she didn't. He tucked his bags in the corner behind the passenger seat and pulled a cargo net over them.
"You left your keys hanging in the trunk," she warned him.
"Yes, I did that on purpose. I'd advise you not to take advantage of it. It's a State Department vehicle and even in this nice of a neighborhood I imagine it will be stolen quickly. It will be a big hassle for the people that loaned it to me and an even bigger one for whomever boosts it," he said smiling.
She just laughed, shaking her head. "I like a man with a sense of humor," she told him as she drove away.
A few miles away he was out of range of his bugs. He wondered briefly if he should have set a relay, but then they would be found pretty soon by her staff anyway. They weren't very sophisticated bugs.
* * *
You can get to that address from the west side and it would be closer you know," she said after awhile, looking at the route he had highlighted on his phone.
"Thank you, but there may be people watching for me to approach from the west and I'd rather they didn't see me arrive. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave the long way around too.
"Is this turning into a risk for me?" she asked, frowning.
"No, because you have my name and address. You are welcome to verify you dropped my off if anyone asks. I'd just rather they didn't get opportunity to ask. If they have no idea how I got to the place, I'd be amused and happy."
"Military, aren't you?" she said squinting.
"Navy, Master Sergeant," he supplied.
"Hmmm, you're a long way from Maryland," she observed.
He didn't say anything. It was true.
* * *
When they drove up the Satos' driveway and parked, Dolores just gave a long whistle of appreciation. It was a pretty nice place just about anywhere. In Hawaii it was palatial.
Chapter 40
"Your man is here," Adzusa called from the doorway. "Want to come out and meet him?
"Not in my pool clothing," April objected. The household swam naked, but April didn't feel comfortable lounging around like that. She'd have felt even stronger about that, if she knew they wore suits before her visit. She had on a short silk robe.
"They just started up the drive. Run and throw on a t-shirt and shorts and he'll still be unloading and greeting people."
By the time she got down to the driveway, Gunny had four large bags on the pavement and was handing money to the driver, at the window of a really old piston engine pickup. Li was waiting patiently for him to get through.
"I am Li, a manager of the household," he introduced himself. "We have you in the room across the hall from Miss Lewis, We will put your bags in your room, if you'd like to join the family at the pool and get acquainted. The Santos will be coming down for dinner soon."
"I'll show him the way Li, thank you," Adzusa told him.
"I'd rather unpack my own things if you don't mind," Gunny said worried.
"As you wish," Li agreed tilting his head. "We expected you to have weapons. You will find there is an open gun safe in your room and you may set the combination as it pleases you."
"Oh, OK, thanks," Gunny said with a big grin. "All the comforts of home. Miss Santos, Miss Lewis, I'm happy to meet you finally."
"You know us by sight," Adzusa said waving him to follow her and started for the house. "How deeply were you briefed?"
"I've read intelligence analysis folders for everyone here. That gives me a collection of bare facts, tempered by the collection methodology and tainted by the politics of the intelligence organization. I plan on giving a great deal of weight to my personal observations. Feel free to offer any information that helps my primary goal of Keeping-Miss-Lewis-Alive."
"Just April, please."
"And how do you wish to be addressed? Adzusa quickly inquired.
"Master Sergeant Tindal will do fine," he assured her.
"In your dreams," Adzusa told him.
"Most of my friends call me Gunny," he said. Ignoring the aside.
They sat around a pebbled glass table and Adzusa invited him to pick a chair with a casual wave of the hand. Informality was fine with him.
Gunny looked April over, giving her a closer examination than was possible walking along. He didn't try to pretend he wasn't scrutinizing her and her first reaction was discomfort. She thought immediately of the creepy beam dogs, who had leered at her in the cafeteria at home. But Gunny was serious, not leering and his eyes went everywhere like the vacuum rats but he wasn't checking her out as they say, he was looking at her like Jon had looked over Neil McAlpine when they had met back home. Like two big dogs deciding which was Alpha.
That was how he was gauging her now, she realized, for her potential, wondering how capable she was. It was creepy in a new, different way. He wasn't checking her out, he was sizing her up. How hard would he be to take? Pretty formidable she realized. Surely harder than the guys on New Las Vegas had been. She broke eye contact, embarrassed she had fallen into staring back him, in the same coldly analytical mode.
Gunny for his part, could tell she walked different, taking smaller steps on her injured side and holding her arm protectively over her injured ribs. He wondered what she was taking for the pain? Would it slow her down?
"If you want to know more about me and what is going on, ask your people to give you a comprehensive folder on Jon Davis, Jan Hagen, Bob Lewis, Steve Lewis, Ajay Singh, Jeff Singh, Heather Anderson and Don Adams. Those are all people off Earth, so I'm sure they were considered too unimportant to include in any briefing. Oh and Preston Harrison. He's dead, but if not him, anything about the Patriot Party. If I find any of them, they'll be dead rather quickly too," she vowed.
"It's pretty hard to guard somebody who is determined to go into harm's way," Gunny pointed out. "The Naval officers who were protecting Harrison found themselves in conflict and picked badly. When he acted to arrest you aiding him do so was outside their mandate of protecting him. Be aware I won't draw a weapon to aid you, if you attack someone not an immediate threat. Even if they are an avowed enemy. That isn't my job."
"Oh, I'm not going to go hunting them. But if a bunch of them would foolishly congregate, I wouldn't hesitate to call down fire on them."
"Ah good. I was afraid you had some crazy honor thing, about exposing yourself to fire like you did with Harrison and got shot in the ribs for it. If you'd caught that one in the head we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"And my friend Easy is going to jump all over me about that," April admitted. "He already chewed me out about my tactics on New Las Vegas, when we rescued Don Adams."
"When you jumped on the guys back like a frigging pony? Damn right," Gunny agreed.
"What should I have done? I want to hear your version before I tell you his."
Two to one? With one guy already waving his gun around and threatening your friend? Shoot 'em dead where they stood without apology. Then put a couple just-to-make-sure rounds in them before leaving cover to go to your friend. I'm assuming you had no close backup and Adams wasn't armed?"
"No, my backup was all the way back on my ship and I hadn't seen Don Adams in a year. I had no idea what level of help he might be." April grimaced. "Jon and Jan are probably going to chew me out too, next time I see them."
"Well it sounds like you are surrounded by good advice, if you'd care to start listening."
April laughed out loud. "My friends will all like you just fine," she predicted." Easy said I should have just reached and squeezed the trigger, when that idiot pointed the grips at me."
That got a startled look and grin from Gunny.
Li came in and sat off to the side, just nodding politely at them. Two of the young women came in and served pitchers of fruit punch and some finger food. Bacon wrapped shrimp and little skewers with chicken and pineapple. They took a glass and plate over to Li. April poured for Adzusa and Gunny after they withdrew. Gunny, done with her, was twisting all around frankly appraising the place. For security or for wealth, April wasn't sure.
April stopped and thought about Gunny arriving. She got a puzzled frown. "I'm surprised you had to hire a ride. I'd have thought you'd have a government car of some sort."
"Ah, well, Ms. Jordan from State met me and was giving me a ride out here, but she wasn't inclined to offer me a vehicle. She felt I should call and wait for a car and driver whenever I had need."
"What did you do? Get out of the car and walk away?" Adzusa asked.
"You seriously have no idea what sort of person I am, if you think I'd do that," Gunny told her. "With all my bags to carry too? I kicked her and her driver out and took their car," he informed them.
It took some time for the girls to stop laughing and settle down.
"I confess," April told him. "I was immediately irritated with Ms. Jordan, when she came on our shuttle and tried to take charge of Adzusa and me. She was just so sweet about it, like she was doing a social favor. She was really useful and I'd have welcomed what she offering from somebody else, with a different manner. But everything the woman does just infuriates me. I fear I treated her worse than was necessary."
"She has this way of trying to manage you like you are a little kid. As if you need such direction," Adzusa said. "I expected her at any moment to tell us to hold hands and come along like a couple Kindergarteners."
"I don't care for being managed either," Gunny allowed. "I wasn't entirely sure I could remove all the bugs and tracking devices from their vehicle so I found a local entrepreneur willing to give me a ride for cash. I can buy my own ride now and be sure the vehicle is clean."
"What did you do with their car?" Adzusa asked.
"I left it in a condo parking lot. If they have decent tracking on it they should have it back by now. I only cut the factory antenna."
"Did you just leave the keys in the ignition? Azusa wondered.
"Not at all. I left them hanging in the trunk," he said with a straight face.
After the second round of laughter was under control Adzusa asked, "How would you know who runs a pirate cab? Have you been to the islands before?"
"I posted a, need a ride, notice in The Honolulu Daily Trader and Free Board. We have similar trader boards in Maryland and illegal jitneys. It wasn't hard to get immediate discreet service, far cheaper than an airport limo."
"No, but you take your life in your hands dealing with the unknowns. I'd be terrified to hire a ride that way, off a public board."
"I didn't fall off the turnip wagon yesterday. I could be a bit more difficult to rob casually, than most of the young bucks would expect."
"Even if you buy a car, watch out," April warned him. "I bought a new Mercedes and by the time we went from the airport to the dealer to pick it up it had three bugs and a drone following us home. That's likely to happen to yours. But between Li and myself, we can likely get it cleaned up for you."
"Yes and my father can arrange a driver, to assure it isn't disturbed while you are in somewhere," Adzusa promised.
"I'm looking forward to meeting your father. You mentioned getting a folder on Harrison. I had one that was such useless drivel, it was like a press release. I'm hoping maybe Mr. Santos can get me a more useful data set, on Harrison's successors and party."
"My father is retired. I'm not sure he'll agree to do so, but you can ask him."
"He may be retired, but I'm eligible to retire right now if I wish. I don't plan on having a brain wipe when they muster me out. I suspect if he makes a call or two, the phone tree that activates would be remarkable." He lazily sucked a second bacon wrapped shrimp off a toothpick and savored it. That reminded April she was ready for lunch.
"I'm hoping nobody gives that woman a hard time for dropping me off. If they think she has some relationship to me beyond a paid ride it is fantasy. But the idiots sometimes see patterns where none exist. I came in on the side opposite where I thought they'd be looking."
"House," April asked. "Can you track the truck that dropped someone off about ten minutes ago?"
"Yes April, the vehicle left by the same route it approached. It is about seven kilometers away in a straight line, but is leaving on a long loop. If you require tracking beyond the immediate area, I can buy camera time on a high altitude civilian camera platform."
April lifted an inquiring eyebrow. Gunny shook his head no.
"Thank you house, that is sufficient data."
"You seem to have fairly robust security here." He was impressed.
"I was told it is a very smart house. I'm sure Papa-san will introduce you."
"I'd like that."
The young ladies returned with a cart and started setting up for a meal. It wasn't any too soon for April. She was very pleased when the cook rolled out a big stainless BBQ grill. They had only used it twice since she'd been here and she'd stuffed herself silly. The smoky charred goodness of a charcoal grill was something she'd never experienced on a habitat. The scrubbers and filters you'd need to recycle the air would be ridiculous.
"Umm, that looks encouraging," Gunny said softly to April.
"Here comes your host," April informed him, peering over his shoulder.
Gunny jumped to his feet and the way he acted, April wouldn't have been surprised if he'd saluted, but Papa san waved him down.
"Relax, Master Sergeant. We're not big on formalities here."
"Then, Gunny is fine," he invited.
"I'm Papa-san around here. But if you are talking to my past colleagues or agencies, mostly they will refer to me as 'T'.
"That sounds fine. I'd feel silly calling you Papa-anything," Gunny admitted.
"Steak, baby-back ribs, or split chicken?" Papa-san asked looking at what was available in the cooler by the grill.
"Yes!" April agreed enthusiastically.
"I assume you just have a normal human appetite, Gunny?" Satos asked. "If you are all gene tweaked and carnivorous, like Miss Lewis here, we can probably negotiate a bulk discount with the butcher. Or perhaps put a few head out to graze on the lawn."
"She could probably rustle a few head, if you'd look the other way," Adzusa suggested.
"Don't they hang rustlers?" April asked.
"Only if they catch them," Adzusa assured her. "You have escaped so many other hanging offenses, what's another?"
"I'd be content with a single steak, warm in the middle, but rare please," Gunny responded. Hoping to head off the other conversation. "I have a pretty good appetite, but I have to keep my activity up, not to start packing on the weight."
"Perhaps you'd run with me?" April asked hopefully. "I think I ran more at home than down here, which is kind of crazy."
"After you heal up and if we set the pace for me. I'm not about to ruin myself trying to keep up with a gene mod. And assuming nobody is actively shooting at you."
"Well, that might be hard to know ahead of time." April argued.
"Nah. Given human nature if somebody is hot to shoot you, I bet we know pretty quickly. In fact if you don't go out in public and they are really hot to get you, they'll come probing around here. I have to ask T, are you really comfortable having me on your property and armed? You obviously are not afraid to have April. But maybe I'm just a further provocation, to attract trouble. Did the President put a lot of pressure on you to accept me?"
"I've made my own inquiries about you," Papa-san admitted. "You're welcome here. I would caution you, that if we are attacked many of the household will actively respond. I don't want them endangered by friendly fire."
"I'll be most careful of that," Gunny promised.
"President Wiggen wanted to saddle me with an entire security detail," April volunteered. "Here, it's easier to just let you watch the whole exchange." She pulled up the conversation with Wiggen and turned the screen to Gunny. He sat entranced, as everybody loaded plates and started in around him. He just absent mindedly murmured a thanks and kept watching when a small pair of filets were put in front of him. He seemed content with the sides picked for him and methodically put it away as he stared at the screen.
"That was really quite good, thank you. I did notice," he said pushing the plate away," but you so rarely get to see the real deal like this," he said waving at the screen. "I wanted to give it my attention. This is the kind of historic thing they don't let out in public, until everybody involved is dead and nobody cares anymore. That about the lieutenants shooting the President - wow – I'm deep in the same organization and had no clue. This kind of thing is dangerous to know."
"Doesn't that embarrass you to say?" April asked pointedly.
"No, I know my government is flawed. But I've been all over and seen how they do things in the rest of the world. Most places are so corrupt we look good in comparison. I consider keeping President Wiggen alive a worthy goal. When there are assassinations and chaos, it tends to reach down and make the life of the little people uncertain too. I've seen a lot of places where they can't keep the electricity on and you have to worry you'll get robbed or killed, because you are the wrong class, or wrong religion, when you go out for groceries."
"I'm hoping we do a little better with our experiment," April said.
"The real test will be how it is doing in two or three hundred years. Looking at history, I don't see any government that slowly treated its people better as it aged. They all start with lofty ideals and slowly get less free and more corrupt year by year."
"The way med-tech is going, some of us may be around to see," April predicted. Then she was appalled at herself for speaking without thinking. Maybe Gunny couldn't afford it, or didn't even want it. Earthies were different and his face said he did not have life extension.
Gunny saw the flash of discomfort on her face. "I've been kind of waiting," Gunny admitted. "I can retire any time I wish. It's impossible to stay active duty and go through a thorough life extension treatment. I was going to retire when my wife did, but she died suddenly a few years ago from an aneurism. For awhile I felt a great deal of guilt we hadn't had her done. She could have taken the time off for it. But my doctor surprised me by explaining it isn't really true rejuvenation, or a general treatment yet. If you have a birth defect or trauma undetected, it doesn't necessarily repair it."
"I never thought about that."
"Yeah, it made me decide if I buy LE, I'm going to spring for a full body, detailed MRI survey. It won't add that much cost and then you know what you are working with."
"This half chicken seems to be orphaned," Pap-san observed. He loaded it with some seared pineapple and coleslaw and presented the plate to Gunny. "House Mr. Tindal or Gunny will be enjoying our hospitality," he declared to the air. "Allow him to access all our sensors and the use of communications. He has the run of the house, except for our private rooms and whatever rooms the help or Miss Lewis set off limits to him. If he leaves the property note the vehicle, but do not assume it is him returning in it. Do you have a sufficient voice sample?"
"I have his voice and appearance recorded. Welcome Master Sergeant."
"Thank you house. Do you listen everywhere?"
"Inside the house you can get my attention anywhere by saying 'House' if it is not in the context of the conversation. Active areas like the pool also, but around the perimeter I may not hear you past about 50 meters. If you wish to stay in contact with me there are compact handsets in the mud room you can take with you."
"Can you recall conversations for me?" he asked, subtly.
"I can recall a conversation for about 30 minutes after it seems to have terminated, before it scrolls off. For example, as long as you are all in the area of the pool and continue interacting, I regard that as one extended conversation. If you wish a particular thing remembered you will have to tell me to take a note and I'll start a file for you."
"Can you hold up your end of a conversation by yourself?"
"I answer com calls as a person. You would have to judge if I pass your personal Turing test. I understand I am about two years out of date as an AI. If I were to upgrade I'd need to install another twenty Terabyte of fast memory."
"Go ahead and schedule yourself for three times that, House," Papa-san ordered. "We might as well get ahead of it a bit."
"Thank you. There have been times speaking to several people at once, I felt sluggish."
"Do you speak Hawaiian?" Gunny inquired.
"Not at the moment, but I can install that if you wish."
"Please, I'd like to learn the basics at least and practice it against you."
"Very well, I've installed the necessary software," House informed him.
April had sampled each of the grilled items available and was on her third dessert.
"I can see you have a raging metabolism," Gunny told her, "but are there any qualities you have that will affect my ability to guard you? With your high metabolic rate, do you run out of steam early?"
Li, usually so quiet, blew pineapple juice out his nose and proceeded to choke from spasms of laughter.
Gunny lifted a single suspicious eyebrow.
"I'm fine on endurance," April said, keeping a poker face. Li went into a second series of giggles holding his napkin over his mouth.
"House, show Gunny the TV new sequence of April running on the beach," Adzusa ordered exasperated and let it run for him.
"Wow, I can't believe you kept up, Li. Are you gene mod too?" Gunny asked after.
"No, the girl about killed me," Li admitted.
"What else little gal? I don't want any surprises."
"I'm pretty fast," she admitted.
"How fast?"
"Does anybody have a coin?" April asked. Papa san said something and pretty soon one of the maids came jogging out of the house and he pointed at April. The coin was an American silver dollar. She looked briefly at it, intrigued, but sat it on the edge of the table between them.
"Try to snatch in before me," April invited.
"Ladies first," he said with a smile.
April had her hand over the coin and was trying to slide it off the edge of the table but found her hand pegged tight to the table under his huge paw. She was so shocked her mouth just hung open, speechless.
Papa-san clapped his hands in formal applause, grinning.
"Not bad, I believe I could teach you combat handgun, if you have the eye to go with the hands," Gunny allowed.
"I have a friend up on Home, who will pay you to let him check your genome and do some tests for him. He told me there are people like you."
"Warned you, I think you mean," he said, smug. He withdrew his hand and April finished picking up the coin. She tossed it to Papa-san and he flipped it right back.
"I could tell it was novel to you. It's a gift."
"It isn't a special keepsake?"
"Nah, it's just money. Real money, you can't just print more of when you run out."
"Excuse me," House said. "I see from the commercial aerostat I monitor, that two aircars have approached at very low altitude and are setting down on the opposite side of our woods."
"House, tell the staff to do an emergency shutdown. Open the shelter and indicate we may take cover or evacuate, in ten minutes. Staff are to grab essential possessions and arm themselves."
"I have a close support aircraft on call. Would you like me to launch it and put it at your disposal?" Gunny asked Papa-san, opening his phone.
"What sort of ordnance?"
"Four small cluster munitions, two air-fuel explosives, two precision concrete filled bombs and 40mm cannon on a Warthog II."
"Yes, launch it please."
Gunny held it to his ear and for the first time they saw him angry. "The number returns an out of service message."
"Hmm. Your authorizations are straight from the President, correct?" At Gunny's affirmative nod he spoke again. "House abort sheltering. Our situation is not tenable. Staff to evacuate. April, Gunny, if you will come with us we can provide safety, I think. Li, plan 'C'. Bring Gunny's gear to the car and set the booby traps after emptying the safe and shelter. House send multiple copies of this week's records and correspondence, as well as copies of yourself, to several safe locations. Duplicate offsite storage of long term records. Move all local funds into other countries and disperse standing accounts." He got up, seeming in no great hurry. Li was already gone into the house.
April's pad emitted an irritating whine. She flipped it up and took the call, since it was her emergency ring. It was already in speaker mode.
"April, Militia Control here. We show a submarine missile launch eighty kilometers east of the island, with a sub visible at shallow depth. Probable Chinese. It is a rocket boosted air breather, on a direct line for the Santos' place. ETA seven minutes plus."
"Put it on my spex," she asked. "How hard to shoot down?"
"We can't do it from orbit. The type is a subsonic low flyer and does a pop up terminal maneuver. You have a better than 60% probability of destroying it with your pistol if you have it in aircraft mode and can acquire the target early in the pull up."
"I'll try," April told him. "Thanks."
"Can we be gone in," her eyes flicked inside her spex, "six minutes?"
"No way," Papa-san said with a grimace.
"Up to me then." She walked briskly away from the pool and trees, to where she had a clear view to the eastern horizon. Her spex gave her the heading on which the missile was approaching and she left the sights at the widest angle possible. Gunny shadowed her.
"Full power, auto-acquire and engage a cruise missile head-on," she instructed the pistol. The near tree line was close to two hundred meters out on this side. Then there was a gently sloped hill showing just its crown over the tree line, a bit over a kilometer out. The overhead view in her spex showed the progression of the missile. About four kilometers out it cut an arc around another hill, to stay as low as possible.
It would probably do the same with the hilltop she could see. It cleared the far hill curving around the north side of it and then reversed direction around the south side of the closer hill, turning its course into an S shaped maneuver. April shifted her aim point to the south and prepared to track the missile when it popped up.
Her sight suddenly painted a bright red circle around a target she could not see. The flicker of backscatter from it firing was very weak. There was little to reflect the light back at them, firing into the sky. The circle elongated quickly and April lifted the weapon, trying to keep it pointed within the range it could adjust its own aim. When it pulled up, the flare of light from her weapon hitting it, gave her a bright spot to see inside the aiming circle.
She lost lock on it, but by then it was trailing smoke and debris. When she lifted the pistol far enough to track it again and it resumed firing it was going almost straight up. It was programmed to pop up and acquire the target, roll over and then drop almost vertically on it. Instead of a smooth climb and roll over however, it was spinning slowly and trailing a plume of burning fuel. It lost a fluttering flat piece of wing or tail and veered off to the north, making April lose her aim again.
The smooth turn changed into a tumbling motion and when April acquired it again the laser fire chopped visible chucks off the airframe. It was falling slowly enough she kept a lock on it, until it disappeared behind the garage and the pistol stopped firing as soon as it went out of sight. It shut off so fast the laser didn't even burn the roof ridge. She immediately holstered her weapon.
A ball of orange flame climbed into the air, from three or four hundred meters to their north. It quickly turned red and then sooty black. The deep thud of its impact was followed by a long series of crackling sounds like a string of cheap firecrackers.
"I know that sound, it was loaded with cluster munitions," Gunny told her. "With a little luck maybe it fell on the aircars," he said hopefully.
April was staring off into the sky, eyes flicking about inside her spex. A couple times she spoke so softly Gunny couldn't understand her, except a sudden angry – "NO!"
"What's going on?" he asked after a couple minutes. She dropped her gaze but was still engrossed in something and held her palm up asking his patience. Finally she looked up abruptly. "OK, I'm done. Let's get out of here."
"What were you doing?" Gunny asked, as they jogged to cut through the house, to the parking apron on the opposite side of the house. Li was waiting for them at the door.
"Your bags are loaded in Papa-san's vehicle. We are almost done loading and ready to roll. I will follow with another of our men. All the other workers are gone. Good shooting Missy," he added.
"Thank you Li." There were two large SUVs waiting. All the other vehicles, including April's Mercedes, were gone. Li's helper was putting the last of a pile of small wooden boxes in the back. They were small, but so heavy he was visibly struggling to move them. Li held the door for her, to get in the rear seat of the long sea green vehicle. It was a strange time for such chivalry, when they were running for their lives.
The rear hatch slammed and Papa-san immediately pulled away. Looking over her shoulder, Li and another of the man servants were in a blue version of the same vehicle behind.
There was a huge plume of black smoke, still rolling into the air from the woods. As they eased down the crooked driveway, a series of manmade meteors snaked overhead from west to east. Bright balls of yellow hot fire, surprisingly visible even in full sunlight. They were so low it rumbled like a freight train. At one point the first of them had dropped from sight behind the house to the east and yet there was still a continuous line of a half dozen still descending from the west, drawing a line across the sky.
"What in the hell is that?" Gunny demanded.
"The death of a submarine," April answered. "The fools didn't dive and run after shooting at us. Maybe they were told to stand by for a second shot if needed. I asked the militia watch officer to kill it for me. I think he wasted some rods. Three or four would have been plenty, when it was loitering right near the surface. Looks to me like he dropped a dozen on them, but he sounded pretty pissed when I was talking to him."
"You are that well regarded on Home, that he'd kill a multi-billion dollar missile boat and maybe a hundred men for shooting at you?" Gunny asked.
"I'm in the militia and I'd do the same for anybody from Home."
"What can anybody do against something the size of China though?"
"What could anybody do against North America?" April retorted.
Gunny just nodded. It was beyond his ability to process. It was insane.
Chapter 41
"Is Adzusa going to meet us somewhere?" April inquired.
"It is my intent to leave the island," Papa-san told her. "Adzusa wishes to stay active in her job, which is incompatible with joining us. She also intends to make sure your home is secure and will put some more security in place there as a base for herself as well, before she leaves. Remaining in our home without staff was not viable, even if the present aggressors were dealt with. If you agree to come with us, we may be out of touch for a number of days, so if either of you want to leave word with anyone do it now. On the road now is less risky. Once we leave the island, I insist on radio silence, until we are well over the horizon."
"I'll tell my people I'll be out of contact," April agreed, opening her pad.
Gunny tried to call Captain Yoder direct. The number simply didn't ring. He tried Carol from the State Department and got her on the first ring. She sounded like she was in a car too.
"Carol I seem to be cut off electronically. I can't reach my commanding officer and I can't reach my assets I was given for operations. We were attacked at the Santos' residence. Do you know what is going on?"
"Master Sergeant, I'm receiving multiple, conflicting orders myself. I am headed for a safe place and suggest you do the same. All I can suggest is, follow your oath and use your own discretion. I have contacted your service and advised them there may be renewed attempts on our President. I can only hope it found the right ear. I'm turning this phone off and removing the battery. I suggest you do the same. Goodbye Master Sergeant." The line went dead. He removed his battery and zipped it in a pocket.
"You don't look tremendously happy," April observed.
"I'm isolated and abandoned to my own devices. The government seems to be in chaos. I'm not sure if I am sent orders, if it will be by a valid authority and I'm somewhat afraid I may be asked to do things at variance with both my oath and my conscience. I'm not sure it is safe to use the expense card I was issued, or access my own bank accounts and I left my home and most of my personal gear halfway around the world, while I'm headed I have no idea where, with a notorious spy and a rebel with a big target drawn on her back. So yeah, I'm not likely to be a font of joy today."
"Master Sergeant, I suggest you stay close to your basic assignment. Protect Miss Lewis. I will see that you both get away to a safe place," Papa-san promised. "I am not without resources and you will have your needs addressed. If you wish, I can ask some of my professional contacts to see if it is possible to transfer your private funds, where they can't be used to hold you hostage. Would that make you feel better?"
"Indeed it would. I appreciate your kindness. You have known me so briefly."
"Not at all. We are headed to what you would call a safe house. It would be better if you do not discuss our situation, with any of the personnel who work there. As much for their protection as yours. Later, we will be going to a marina and board a vessel that will be our ride off the island. Is that agreeable to both of you?"
"What if we would opt to bail out?" Gunny asked, but didn't seem upset.
"I'm not into kidnapping," Papa-san assured him. "We can drop you right here, or when we get further into town. But well before we are near the safe house. You understand the necessity of that I hope."
"I do indeed. I just wanted to hear what you'd say. I'm still on board," Gunny agreed.
"I'm not without resources either, as Papa-san said. One of the reasons I am down here, was to rescue two lieutenants from your service, who got entrapped in political intrigues just for doing their job and wish to come to Home." April explained. "You may end up in a similar bind," she predicted.
"This puts a little wrinkle in those plans, doesn't it?"
"Indeed. And President Wiggen invited me to dinner. I don't know if she will be hosting state dinners for very long. I have her direct number, but I'm afraid to use it right now."
"I suppose I should tell you, I have a special forces team watching your house, April. I don't know if anybody would bother it, since they knew you were at the Santos, but I thought it was a good idea at the time. If Adzusa is headed there, you may find it a comfort to know they are there."
"I'm having a number of security upgrades added there, but they are not all in place. The digging for a really deep safe room will take awhile. Papa-san has a man in place and if he says Adzusa has it in hand I can only imagine it will be very safe. I also loaned her one of my light moon suits and another laser weapon I had. But thanks for adding another layer."
"But who knows what is happening with them?" Gunny admitted. "Somebody may have yanked them for all I know. I hope I didn't put them in harm's way."
* * *
"BO, heads up," his buddy warned him softly and kicked the bottom of his boot to make sure he had his attention. He was sitting on a massive tree limb, with his back to the trunk, without any sort of line, net or safety harness protecting him from a sixteen meter drop to the ground. He was also taking a nap, it being mid-afternoon and a typical warm pleasant day in Hawaii.
Bill Olsen always wanted a tree house as a boy. The fact there were no trees in his trailer park and the over protective nature of his mother conspired to deny him that pleasure. He might have gone off with the other boys to the trees along the railroad track, to built some sort of crazy rickety platform from shipping skids and scrap lumber. However he was not allowed past the boundary of the trailer park. Mrs. Olsen made sure there was no cheating too, fitting her son with the sort of tracking bracelet, she wanted so badly to clamp on her henpecked husband. Bill's mother was the sort who loudly counseled him not to go too high on the swing, to not run because he might fall, and leave his gloves on all day at school, because there is disease everywhere.
Any fool could have predicted that the day after he turned eighteen, he would move away from home and leave his goulashes, glove packs and most of all the damned electronic leash in his neat sterile room. Now four years later he was a SEAL. When he received an e-mail from home he would fire off a reply saying, "Hello, thinking of you, everything is fine," and delete the mail unread. Eventually that would lead to hard feeling, when he failed to read about his father's funeral. However, right now he was working through eighteen years of repression and didn't need to bank any more in that account. All the risk taking he had been denied he was trying to balance out as soon as possible, to the point he even unnerved some of his instructors, who unlike mother didn't quickly counsel caution to him. Caution had a definite place in a SEALS thinking, but it wasn't first, second or even third on the list.
"The neighbor is coming down to her fence, headed straight for us." His buddy warned him.
Bill finally opened his eyes. "Well duh, surprise. You already saw her looking at us through that big assed telescope from her lanai. We'll be lucky if she doesn't post pix of you pissing off the branch on the net, for the Old Man to see." They had a camo net hanging in an arch around their station and the vegetation was heavy, but not heavy enough apparently to hide them from this eagle eyed woman.
"I've been going around to the back side of the tree since she did that."
"What is that old expression, about after the horse has got out of the barn?"
"Come on take a look at this. She's carrying something down here."
"If it's a chain saw we're screwed. We're not authorized to risk any collateral damage even in self defense."
"It looks like an insulated jug and a bag of something."
"Maybe she's bringing us supper and a cold drink," BO said sarcastically.
"Make all the fun you want, but I'll be damned if that isn't exactly what it looks like."
Now Harold did have his attention. He was sick of piss warm water that tasted of plastic and MREs.
Diana walked unhurried, wearing a scarlet sarong and cut off t-shirt without any shoes. She left the jug and bag on the stone wall that marked the downhill extreme of her property and strolled back up to the house without looking back. There was a huge black shape by the door, sitting patiently waiting for her, that stood up and went back inside with her.
"Well what do you think?" Harold asked.
"I'm in the Navy; I'm not paid to think. Besides it's your shift. I was sleeping until someone rudely interrupted it."
"Will you watch the Lewis place if I go down to retrieve it?"
"Any activity?"
"Birds, couple of lizards now and then and one humongous centipede came in the branch toward us that scared the crap out of me and I knocked it off."
BO pulled his spex down and studied the feed for a minute. "Do an eyeball scan – glass all around down slope and then go ahead," he agreed.
Harold pulled his compact binoculars up and did a real thorough exam away from the houses, all downhill where it was nature preserve. He didn't skimp. BO was happy to see, then he pulled his own spex down and checked all the sensors and alarms they had set in the forest around them, before he clipped on, stepped off the limb and dropped away. He could have switched spots with BO and rappelled down the trunk, but the free drop was faster. About ten meters down he started braking and Bill felt the branch spring very slightly as the line pulled down on it. He waited a good full minute, then looked away from the house they were guarding for a few seconds and checked on his buddy. He had the apparent offering off the fence and nobody seemed to be molesting him as he returned. Bill swept all the readings quickly because he had been looking away. Everything was normal.
There was a faint whine as Harold used his power winch to climb the line quickly.
He left the winch hanging clamped on the line and did not offer to take the watch back. The sound of a zip seal popping and water flowing, indicated he was examining his bounty.
"It's strictly against doctrine to accept supply from local population you know."
"Um-huh," Harold said around a mouth full of something. "We have two egg salad and two tuna salad sandwiches for each of us and carrot sticks and olives. It's all in a metalized Mylar bag with a cool pack, so no rush to eat it."
"Good, I'll wait at least an hour and if you suddenly go into convulsions and plummet to your death I'll probably skip the egg salad."
"Oh my God, the jug is almost full of ice and it's not just water with it – it's lemonade. We can add water as we drink it down and it will get weaker but still be pretty good. There's a note with it."
BO kept his watch, refusing to split the screen, or take his attention away to see what Harold was doing. "Would you at least read the thing before the poison hits?"
"OK, Here's a little snack, as I imagine you have the usual yucky military food. Just put the freezer puck inside the cooler jug when you are done and sit it on the fence. Please don't come in the yard to set it closer to the house. My dog would very much object. Will drop something off tomorrow if I see another team. – Diana Hunt."
"You think that's really her name or is she pulling our leg?"
"What? Why would that be false? It's a common name."
"Diana – goddess of the hunt?" BO suggested. Finally he figured out Harold had no idea what he was talking about, so he dropped it.
"All it shows on our data sheet is she's a divorced woman, fifty-two, damn she looks real good for fifty-two," he commented. "She has met Ms. Lewis the owner of our stake-out target and visited the house. She doesn't work, drives into town every third day on the average. Never leaves the dog out when she goes into town. Has no registered firearms and has never placed an assistance request to the local police. Had the fire department out once several years ago for a fire beyond her fence."
"Chinese or Korean long term intelligence asset - with skills in counter operations – neurotoxins a specialty," BO added.
"Damn, you can sure rain on a parade," Harold said.
"I had extra training," BO admitted. About eighteen years of it, he thought to himself, suddenly realizing he sounded like his mother. Next he would be telling Harold not to fall off and break his neck. Got to lose that, he decided privately.
"At least that about the dog explains it," he observed out loud.
"Explains, what?" Harold asked around sandwich.
"Why her ugly pony is never saddled up."
"Yeah, he is a big sucker, isn't he? And I've never heard him bark."
* * *
The safe house wasn't a house. Indeed, it appeared to be a commercial grocery. Three overhead doors provided easy entry and the middle one rose on their approach. The bays on either side had semis parked, but the center had plenty of room for two big trucky vehicles. They went in to a bare bones freight elevator big enough to lift a car and rode down instead of up. It was several degrees cooler when they stepped off in a wide corridor, with a number of doors visible. They went to the closest and Papa-san gave a single sharp rap. The Oriental fellow who answered was dressed western, but bowed with grace to Papa-san and if anything deeper to his wife.
"Jung, we shall be here until late, but leave before sunrise. Likely before the tide changes. This is Miss Lewis and Mr. Tindal her body guard. We shall require a late meal and I need secure communications. They are not prisoners, they are under my personal protection."
The man gave a sharp little nod, that seemed more absolute than making a great fuss and Papa-san went back out in the hall, presumably to find the secure communications.
Jung walked them across the hall and opened a suite for them. "Why don't you make yourselves comfortable in the common room?" he invited. "These are four identical bedrooms with baths. I will have your things set outside them and you can shift which you use if it suites you. There are refreshments in the cooler there."
"If we're going to be busy tonight I'm taking a nap," Gunny declared. "I'll be in this first room here with the door cracked open," he told April. "If we are attacked and you can't hold back the advancing horde feel free to awaken me, since your weapon makes so little noise."
Jung glanced at April's weapon without humor, holding back a question from anything but his eyes. "It is always wisdom to rest when you can," he agreed with Gunny. He bowed to Mama-san and left.
* * *
When twilight and the brief tropical dusk were definitely done and it was full night, Bill clipped on his drop line which doubled as his safety line and plugged his spex into the sight of his rifle. In the full dark that stayed across his knees. Harold hadn't said anything in a long time and he looked at the red square in the upper right of his spex and cranked the gain up until Harold's silhouette started filling in with some of his features. When the moon came out later he'd have to turn it down. He had his mics cranked up but the night was so quiet it was eerie. At one point he heard the faucet running in the Hunter woman's house which was slightly closer than the Lewis home they were watching. He'd eaten one of the sandwiches after Harold played the taster and it was time to take a watch. First he checked the relief schedule by satellite. The board still showed them being relieved before moonrise by Ed Anderson and Big Jim Zapinski. Rather than move or make a sound, he just told Harold by text in his spex to hand the watch off to him.
There were just a few low lights around the pool, barely illuminating the walkway through the lower yard at the Lewis home. The caretaker cottage on the uphill side hadn't had a light on yet, although they'd seen him clean the pool and sweep the air car platform during the day. They hadn't seen him leave, but they didn't have any sensors on the property itself. The young woman, Adzusa Satos, who was on their known list, came in the afternoon with another man and supplies.
They hadn't seen them leave either, but there were no lights on in the house. They both felt not bugging the property itself was too restrictive, but that wasn't their call. They would have put something in the landscaping island, in the dead end turnaround on the far side of the house, but the older gentleman to the west took it upon himself to maintain the teardrop shaped mound and he checked it to weed or rake almost daily. There was nowhere to put a cam or sensor he wouldn't see it.
The first indication they had something was wrong, was when their relief didn't tell them they were coming in. It took about an hour to walk in from the parking lot of the nature preserve downhill from them. So when five and then ten minutes went by with no call that their relief was on the way, they called themselves. It wasn't that there was any jamming. They simply got no answer. Their communications disappeared into a virtual void. They tried public access and conventional cell phone circuits. They couldn't access wireless or private satellite, any more than military communications. The wireless in the near house was secure, but it didn't show at all now. They were cut off by some means with which they were not familiar at all.
Bill sent out a message to the sensors under his control and put them in sleep mode. He slid over as close to Harold as possible. "Shut down all emissions," he ordered him, speaking softly into his ear. "Anybody who can cut us off like this may be able to turn our own local net against us. If you see anything in close switch to touch and sign language."
"Do you think Ed and Jim are in trouble?" Harold worried.
"They have a lot more resources than we do, right up until they step off of the parking lot into the woods. I'm a whole lot more worried about us. If anything they are the ones that should show up with a force to relieve us."
"You want to take up a new position? Maybe get down out of the tree?"
"No, every reason this was a great location still applies. We've no indication anybody knows we decided to operate in the canopy. If we drop now our view will be very limited. But stay clipped on and ready to drop if we take any fire. I'd like you to break out the reflective sheet and drape it in a cylinder inside the camo net. We can stand to glass the area and then we duck back down. You'd have to be almost directly under us to pick us up on infrared, once you rig that."
"Yes Sir," Harold replied with unusual formality. He rigged the delicate cloth with almost no sound and tapered the top edge in a bit as they had been taught. The bottom edge he canted below the camo toward the slight breeze so that when he was done they actually had a better air flow than before. The remote sensors were gone with the net, but they had a tremendous location for using their handheld gear. They scanned as far as they could see in every direction.
"What the devil is she doing?" Harold asked
Diana came out with her arms full. Still in her sarong and abbreviated T. The huge Newfoundland dog at heel. She laid some items on the patio Bill could not quite make out and carrying a bag she came all the way down to the wall where she had left them lunch. Her proximity made them both nervous and they watched her neglecting to keep watching in the distance. Whatever she did behind the wall there was a momentary flicker of orange light that could only be an open flame.
A quick tap on his arm made Bill look at Harold.
"Fuse?" Harold signed, since she was so close, looking concerned.
Bill thought about it quickly and just shook his head no. Whatever she needed a flame for she was taking entirely too long for it to be an explosive device. If it was she'd be leaving the area quickly. Besides hardly anybody used a simple match fuse anymore. They were obsolete.
The next stop she made they could see what she did. There was a plant in a pot and she dumped the plant and dirt out - set a small candle of some sort on the bottom saucer and after lighting it placed the pot back over it up-side-down. The combination she thrust deep between some statuary and a dense clump of bamboo. She spotted other candles hidden around the yard, hurrying.
"Infrared decoys," Bill suddenly declared, "For sure she is expecting some company. I wonder if her wireless and security systems went down like our net did and she is assuming somebody will try to come in, or if she was tipped off from outside?"
"I don't know, but she isn't acting like any normal fifty-two year old divorcee I've ever know. For sure she doesn't look like she's getting ready to put a jug and sandwiches out for any new visitors."
"Shit!" Harold added. Bill had to actually hold his hand out palm down, to correct his too loud exclamation.
The woman visiting at the Lewis house, Adzusa Satos, came out the door by the pool next door. The caretaker spoke with her briefly and then ducked back in and they could see him through the glass locking the door inside. He had a ugly short shotgun, with a powered magazine hung underneath.
"That tells us something about the glass doors and pool enclosure," Bill whispered. "If he thought they would shatter halfway easy, he wouldn't have bothered to lock them.
Adzusa was dressed in a dark green body suit and carrying a weapon, much less bulky than the caretakers. Slim but short enough to describe as a carbine rather than a rifle. When she vaulted the low fence between the houses there was something thin strapped across her back and then it was hidden again.
"What the heck is that thing? I've never seen one," Harold admitted.
"That's a Home weapon," Bill informed him. "A laser. I saw pictures once of one. Their security sometimes has them at dock when a shuttle comes in."
Diana came back out on the patio wearing spex and had changed to loose dark pants and was carrying two flat disks like Frisbees. However when she tossed them in the air they didn't settle but climbed away into the dark.
"Drones," Harold mouthed at him, finally quieting down.
"I know," Bill signed back at him, glad to encourage him to be silent.
"We must be on the same side?" Harold asked switching to sign language too.
"Assume nothing," Bill ordered him.
Diana came down to the wall where she had left their meal and climbed over to their side, surprisingly agile for someone her age. The dog floated after her like a shadow. There was a brief scrabbling sound as its nails caught on the stone and she pointed at the ground and the dog immediately sat.
Adzusa made a circuit of the yard as Diana was positioning herself and ended up in an Oriental garden that filled the upper yard next to the house, between the patio and lanai. As Bill watched she positioned herself on the east of a pile of boulders that were a dramatic part of the landscaping, tugged something up like she was pulling up a hood and then disappeared. Not ducked out of sight or slid behind something. She just disappeared.
Bill found himself holding his breath staring at the spot she had vanished and had to make himself suck air in again. He didn't want to blink because he was sure she was still there and he didn't want to miss the slightest clue if she moved. He had heard of optical cloaking devices on drone bellies and on stratospheric blimps, but they had a simple geometry. To see it done on the complex shape of a human body was startling. He boggled at the thought of how much computing power that must take.
"Look," Harold signed and pointed down. Diana had her case open and was dabbing camo paint on her face in stripes. Bill lifted his spex to see if he could see her without night vision and she was a barely visible blob in the dark. As he watched the light blob disappeared and he lowered his spex and watched her do a quick and much less fussy job of darkening her arms.
"Where other?" Harold asked in short form with three quick signs.
"Cloaking device," Bill had to spell out, having no easy signs for that. Harold looked as surprised as he had been. "By boulders in garden - last." he added.
There was some sort of machine laid out in the open case. Even when he turned his gain up all the way, he couldn't resolve the details of it in the deep shadow of the wall. The high gain image got too grainy. It was dark and mottled colors too, but he could see the shape of a wheel and some fine lines that didn't add up to anything his brain could recognize. He turned the amplification back down and looked around again. He'd been snatching glances all around, between watching the two women, but now he took his glasses and looked to the west in detail. As far as he could detect, nothing moved and everything was unchanged.
There was a sudden sharp noise, so out of place it took him a second to catalog it. He looked down and Diana the neighbor was looking up at them. He examined the upturned face trying to see what she could want and seeing no particular emotion at all, except perhaps a bit of irritation. She snapped her fingers again and shifted her gaze a little like she might not be looking at exactly the right spot. He finally figured out how to respond and snapped his fingers as she had. Diana relaxed her face a little and held a finger to her lips exhorting him to be quiet. Then she turned away confident he had gotten her message.
Bill repeated the command to Howard. He hoped she hadn't told them to be quiet because she was hearing them. She did have spex on and might have audio amplification running too, but even then, they shouldn't be making enough noise to be heard. He could barely hear Howard at arm's length over the slight noise of wind in the trees and night creatures starting up. He wasn't going to count on it, but the way she acted made her seem favorably disposed to them. It just wasn't professional to count on that.
They sat for a long time, nobody making a noise above or below. After awhile the moon came up. Bill eased off the night vision in the glare and looked at Harold.
"Discipline!" Harold signed, with the index finger flip for exclamation. Then pointed down at the silent unmoving woman below, in case Bill didn't know who he meant. He was obviously impressed. It had been almost three hours and she maintained silence and a freeze as well as any professional troopers they had seen. Bill agreed.
After awhile the big dog stood up in a half crouch and wiggled around uncomfortable. Diana made a gesture and he moved away to the base of their tree and then they could hear the sound as he lifted his leg and watered their stand. Bill gripped his drop line after the sound faded out and leaned over to look below. With the night vision goggles he could see the broad black face looking up at him with uncanny precision and seeming intelligence. Surely he couldn't see that well in the dark...But he seemed aware and maybe even the choice of their tree was a bit of a disdainful message. But once comfortable he trotted back and sat silently by his mistress.
When the moon had climbed a hand's breadth from the horizon, something swooped through the yard, so quickly that by the time the eye moved it was gone. But in a few minutes it can back and circled around the house before sinking in a hover first at the kitchen window and then moved to the door wall opening on the patios.
Another shape came out of the dark in a vertical dive like a hawk and impacted the snooping drone. The two shattered in a spray of junk and splashed fuel, that made a fireball big enough to blow the glass doors in. A fire briefly burned on the patio and inside on the carpeting, but quickly ran out of fuel and left a patch of melted carpet smoking, until the home's fire system kicked on and sprayed the room. Diana never moved from her position below them.
After perhaps another half hour the dog stood up and shifted his stance more to the west. Diana put her hand on his hindquarters and pushed him back down to a sit.
The first soldier rolled over the west wall like a bug, skittering low and slinky. Once over he was just a dark spot against the base of the west wall even in the moonlight. Bill cranked the gain up in his spex and zoomed in playing, with the filtering to bring out detail. He didn't have as much magnification as his binoculars, but that wasn't critical at this range. Then the man turned his face up and looked over his shoulder. He was visibly Oriental, even with night vision goggles on. Not that that meant much. There were Oriental fellows in Bill's outfit too. But the gear was distinctive, especially the helmet. He was Chinese Special Forces and the distinctive dot on each side in the camo of his helmet, was a unit mark, to show he was with the Hunting Leopard dadu from Chengdu. When a second soldier slid over the wall, he turned and advanced.
Crossing the neighbor's yard to get to the Lewis home made sense. The low fence between the houses was probably easier to cross, than the downhill edge of the lot facing the nature preserve. They likely would have simply crossed straight to the Lewis property, if their drone hadn't been destroyed. It would be easy to be critical of that decision, but when the drone finished examining the house, it might have examined the yard and boundaries in detail and exposed Diana's position. So better to have destroyed it early, rather than later.
The fellow who first crossed, reached a point where the thermal decoy in the bamboo came into his line of sight. He obviously was equipped to see into the infrared also, because he turned and walked three short bursts of fire across the big grass. >Rrrrp-Rup-Rup< The gun was so quiet, the bullets splintering the green bamboo were much louder.
Harold started to pick his weapon off his knees and Bill reached across and pushed it firmly back down.
The man was in a crouch, but turned twisted to his right, submachine gun held poked forward, with the elbows barely bent. The second man turned to see what his mate was shooting at too.
Diana stood when the soldiers both turned their faces away and lifted the machine she had laid out before her. It was very compact, only about seven hundred millimeters tall and now Bill could see it was a compound bow. When she released, it was quieter than the gun, a faint sigh of air over the fletching and head and she immediately dropped behind the wall, not waiting to see how accurate her aim had proved. It was fair enough. The shaft appeared sticking out of the far man's arm pit angled to the front. The shallow way it penetrated suggested it was an expanding broad head, that spread its blades wide on entry rather than carry straight through. If his armor would have stopped it or not didn't matter. The shot was a clean miss on his vest, going right in the arm hole, pinning his arm to his side. Unfortunately, it was angled to the back into the shoulder bones and muscle instead of the chest cavity and organs. Still, the man thrashed on the ground, probably out of the fight.
His partner pivoted to the left to face them, knowing the arrow had come from that side. The long wild burst he let off didn't have any clear target. The shots rattled up the wall and over it into the night. Three even thudded into the trunk of their tree and were felt through their limb.
The yard behind the soldier lit up in a brilliant flash, that made him a black silhouette, as he took a laser hit right between the shoulder blades. The armor vaporized was a brilliant halo of plasma behind him, that washed out their night vision goggles for a heartbeat. The beam was invisible, though Bill had no doubt it came from behind the boulder pile. The man threw himself to the ground and rolled away before a second shot could work at the already ablated weak spot on his armor. He tossed out a round shape as he rolled and then one the opposite direction when he stopped. They spewed smoke even before they stopped rolling.
Supporting fire winked from the top of the stone wall, where the first two had come across, breaking the remaining windows in the back of the house. A couple more smoke grenades arched into the yard from behind the wall also.
Bill barely caught the reflection, as an object similar to the smoke grenades flew in a high arch, from the boulder pile across the west wall. He had no time to warn Harold so he just reached out and switched his goggles off. He barely got his own turned off when the flash came around the rubber eye cups and dazzled them still. There was no time to turn them back on or react, before a big hand swatted them off the limb, when the shockwave arrived.
The tooth aching shock of hitting the end of his safety line, was followed by a sickening swing back and forth as a human pendulum.
He tried to run himself back up with his winch, but something was tangled all around him. Bill stopped struggling for a moment and switched his goggles back on, then realized it was the camo net and reflective sheet - stripped off the hang points and blown around them. A thrashing told him Harold was trying to extricate himself also. His knife was still there when his hand sought it and he gathered a handful of net to his chest and slashed at it. A couple more strokes and his head and shoulders were through. The wiggling shape under the net had to be Harold and he gathered in a couple arm's lengths of material making their lines swing toward each other. Harold must have felt himself being tugged closer and got still.
When he was close enough Bill patted at him flat handed to let him know he was being rescued. Then he carefully cut with the knife, sawing at the net where he could pull it away, not slashing wildly. Once he'd cut a line from his opening to Harold's the whole bundle fell away with a flutter into the night. The night was brighter and looking around, he discovered a good half of the leaves on the tree had been stripped off by the explosion.
Harold had his night vision goggles pulled down, but could easily see him motion for them to climb back up and they both did so not worrying about the slight wine of the winches.
Once he was safely back on the massive limb, he pulled his rifle up on the end of its tether and was finally able to look back at the action. There was still smoke lingering over the yard, but the grenades had burnt out and were not spewing anymore. Their kits were still strapped securely to the limb, clinging better than they had.
Bill searched in the smoke with his spex, finding the smoke was infrared opaque. It was probably meant to thwart laser fire too. It was clearing upwind, beyond the wall where the grenade had landed - grenade? Perhaps anything that powerful should be called a bomb - some of the smaller trees on the forest edge were down, or leaning away from the blast. The wall was down in a shallow notch that went all the way to the ground in the center, with stones scattered in a fan across the lawn and climbed on each side until it was straight and whole about eight meters each way. a crater a couple meters across showed the charge had landed about two meters beyond the wall. Nobody caught between that blast and the wall stood a chance.
The wind was pushing the smoke away from the Lewis house and Bill first saw some movement and then the great dog became visible. He had the second soldier, who had sprayed fire their way, by the neck straddling him. His neck was well back, deep in the big dog's jaws. The angle his head hung back made it clear he was dead, but the dog still whipped him back and forth like a rag doll.
Diana and he must have gone over the wall into the smoke, right after the blast. Then it cleared a bit more and the two women were visible standing over the man with the arrow in him. Diana's bow was still in her left hand, an arrow notched. The soldier was on the lawn, leaning on his good arm and Bill could see zoomed in that he was talking, because his face was tilted up to them.
Adzusa had her back to their tree and there was a dark thin shape hanging across her back and sticking up past her shoulder. Their prisoner stopped talking and looked away from them. They must have been still talking to him, because he kept shaking his head no, still refusing to look up at them. Finally he lifted his face and said something with a nasty snarl.
Adzusa reached back and grabbed the handle sticking up over her shoulder and in one motion there was a flash of silver and the man's head rolled away downhill, then the headless corpse slowly fell sideways over the propping arm. She whipped the sword in a double twisting motion to fling the blood off it and sheathed in one continuous motion.
"Sweet Jesus," Harold said aloud, breaking their silence protocol. Bill couldn't find it in himself to chastise him. The man was staring wide eyed, feeling with one hand around the base of his neck, like he could imagine the blade passing through him. Below the last tendrils of smoke blew away and the wall seemed to have saved the rear of the house from the full effect of the blast, but the lanai was pushed over in a heap of sticks. Diana turned and called her dog off the corpse he was abusing.
"Let's go down and see if we can render the ladies any assistance," Bill suggested. "We are sort of silly, sitting up here with no blind and no leaves."
"Like they need a hand," Harold scoffed. "Let's call from the wall and make sure we're welcome...Sir."
Chapter 42
They woke Gunny and April who had finally succumbed to the fatigue from all the excitement and got back in the same Green and Blue SUVs. There was even more stuff piled in the back and April was astonished to see packages in the distinctive cream with burgundy pinstripes, the dress shop Lin took her to used. It was too soon for her formal stuff, but she had some more casual things now.
They pulled out the same door into the dark, lights out. The lead vehicle pulled to the side and let the vehicle with Li take the lead. They turned on lights when they hit the public street. A pair of electrocycles ghoasted past them and led well ahead, out of sight.
They seemed to go through a lot of residential streets, avoiding the main arteries as much as possible. A couple times April saw water in the distance, the moon making the choppy surface obvious. It was no surprise when they turned and a forest of masts was visible ahead, bright points of moonlight gleaming on the metal and rolled up sails.
The lights went off again as they turned in the drive and they actually drove right out on the jetty, stopping out near the end. Another jetty parallel to them had soft lights, with bonnets illuminating it, but theirs were out. Similarly, the interior lights stayed off when they opened the doors. Papa-san spoke in low tones, urging them on the boat to their right. There were a lot of big boats all around them. Mostly dark, but a few with soft lights, if they had a gangplank out.
Instead of a rattling conveyer with hundreds of little wheels, they had a big U-channel coated with something slick as ice. Their baggage and supplies slid down it with barely a whisper and were stowed below. They were loaded and the ropes thrown off, even before the trucks were backing down the jetty. There was a sigh of lines through pulleys and a sound April had never heard before, the murmur of sail cloth sliding against itself and the snap of it going taunt in the wind. They pulled away with barely a gurgle of water eddying in their wake.
Papa-san tried to send her below, but she whispered she wanted to stay above. He silently pointed to a bench, well away from the wheel and she tucked herself in the dark corner.
Gunny occupied the other end, so quietly she felt the movement rather than heard him. Nothing that big should be able to move that quietly.
Somebody was working out on top of the boat, visible in the moonlight, but she didn't know enough to understand what he was doing. She could see one narrow sail up well ahead, but after awhile a really big one went up closer and she suddenly realized this boat was a lot bigger than she had thought at first. When the big sail filled, the water started making more noise going past and the boat leaned a little from the wind.
She looked back and was surprised how far away the lights on the shore were already. By the time a third sail was up, most of the line of lights down by the water were gone and it was only the tall buildings and antennas showing lights behind them. In another twenty minutes they were all gone and there was a light way off on the horizon to one side and a flashing aircraft light that soon was gone. Li came past carrying an odd metal object. It was light but awkward. A round shape of sheet metal mesh with square corners in each quadrant. He took it below. The boat was entirely dark and it rolled back and forth really slowly. She leaned back and watched the moon approach the edge of the sail and back away repeatedly. Somewhere along the way she fell asleep.
The sky was a silvery color, the moon set and the stars washed out, when April woke up. One of Papa-san's young men was at the wheel in front of her and the air smelled better than even at the Santos house. Way better than in town, which literally stank to her. She was stretched out on the bench, having no memory of getting there, from leaning in the corner. The padding was firm, but she wasn't sore. She'd slept injured side up. She was surprised to find somebody put a loose belt and safety line on her. She'd been so tired she had no memory of it. It hardly seemed credible she'd fall out of the sunken cockpit, with rails around it, but, their ship - their rules. Every once in awhile, she caught a faint smell of breakfast cooking on the wind.
Haru, that was the man's name at the wheel, she finally remembered. He looked at her several times while scanning all around, looking off in the distance mostly, but he did not acknowledged her at all. She fumbled around and got the line off, to go down in the boat finally, needing to find a toilet. She went down the companionway and forward at the first level.
The inside of the boat was pleasant, light composites, not as much wood as she expected, more for accents than big areas of it. She went past several doors, until she found one open that was a bathroom. The sink was stainless, set in a synthetic counter top. It was cozy but not oppressively compact to her, bigger than her own bathroom at home. That was smaller than anything you’d find Earthside, except maybe in a compact motor home. She hesitated over the white terry towel hanging in a ring. The only other thing to dry her hands was her own clothing and the towel probably beat them for cleanliness. She went ahead and used it, but pulled out the back part hanging by the wall.
The murmur of conversation was from the front of the boat. She followed it and her nose, across a huge salon with big ports down both sides making it bright and came to a table with Gunny, the older Satos and Li all chatting over coffee. There was still some sausage and fruit on the table. The kitchen was in a cute little alcove, but way too small. There must be a bigger one for serious meals on the lower deck.
"There is oatmeal in the pot on the stove, rolls warm in the oven," she pointed. "We have shell eggs in the frig if you want and the pan is still on the burner for them." If there was to be cooking she obviously was to do it herself. They apparently ran the boat less formally than their house. She went for the oatmeal, loaded it with butter and syrup. The rolls she buttered and put lots of jam on them. It said Fig preserves on the jar, in English and a bunch of Arabic writing. She'd never had it before and it wasn't bad. The coffee was wonderful.
"What is down the corridor to the front?" April asked.
"That's a passageway," Pap-san instructed her. "It goes between a pantry on this side, what we call a cuddy and a storage compartment with an arms locker opposite. Beyond are two double bunk crew cabins and then on the end more storage under the bow. There is an alternative stairs to the next deck too. If you explore down there be quiet, we have two crew sleeping, who stood watch in the night."
"Where should I go to shower and dress?"
"There are four staterooms at the rear of the passageway where you came in. Your things are in the rear one, the aft, on the starboard side, that's the right looking forward. Gunny is opposite on the port side."
"How many of these terms will I need to learn?" April asked, grinning.
"A few hundred will carry you through being a passenger. If you want to learn to sail a few hundred more. If you want to learn to build boats," he smiled big, "that is a project that would take some years. I am going to show Gunny how to handle the boat," Papa-san explained. "If you'd like to learn you may join us. Gunny however has some sailing experience. I doubt I would trust you at the wheel alone, with no history of sailing smaller boats. There is a matter of a feel for it, anticipating what will happen that comes from experience. No offense to your intelligence or maturity in any way. There are things that can happen suddenly, that don't lend themselves to calling out for help."
"None taken. I would be very cautious about handing the Happy Lewis off to somebody without experience, even orbiting away from any station and no burns scheduled."
"Exactly."
"I have to tell you though, my experience is in an eighteen foot open boat, with a single sail you trimmed by hand. It had a folding keel and you held the tiller by hand instead of a wheel. But yeah it gave me a sense of what a boat will do, although it reacts faster than a bigger boat like this," Gunny said.
"They are both small compared to the ocean," Papa-san said, smiling.
"Your little boat was eighteen feet? Five meters? How long is this one?" April asked.
"The Tobiuo is twenty-three meters," Papa-san informed her. "It is considered a ketch."
"Your boat is longer than my spaceship!" April exclaimed.
"And I bet it has a lot more room inside," Gunny told her.
"Oh yeah. We have a toilet and that is the only enclosure, besides storage cabinets and tool boxes. It has a lock too, uh, not the toilet, but the ship, but it is a coffin lock and really snug, tapered even to reduce the volume to pump down."
"A description I would not want to explain to nervous passengers." Papa –san noted.
"The big room back there is nicer than our living room on station. How wide is it?"
"The main salon is about seven meters, at the wide point."
"Ha! Wider than Gunny's boat is long," she said amused. "We had the sun on our left when I came down." April started, waving a hand that direction.
"Sun off our port when I came below," Papa-san corrected.
"Yeah, so we are headed South. Do you have someplace in mind for us to go, or just cruise around for awhile?" She got a refill of coffee too.
"We are headed toward the equator. When we get close, there is a band where the circulation of air in the north and the south hemispheres meets. That is an area where you get long periods of calm, or it can also be an area of storms. I'd rather not deplete our fuel motoring through. But if I have to I will do so, at a low speed to conserve it," He explained.
"Are we going to see any other islands?" April wanted to know.
"Perhaps a week from now, we may visit an atoll," Papa-san promised. "There are three I have been to and which one we go to will depend on the winds. We can kill a few pleasant days anchored in one of them and then go on to Samoa. Eventually we will move on to Tonga. If you want to lift for Home that will be your opportunity."
"What about my two lieutenants I came to rescue?" April asked.
"If you go to the mainland, maybe even if you go back to Hawaii, I can see you needing rescued, instead of rescuing anyone. Or more likely dead. The Chinese are playing very rough. I doubt sinking their very expensive submarine endeared you to them either. Such things excite sovereigns, instead of making them back off. In my professional opinion and as your friend, it's time to back off." Papa-san entreated her. "I offered to help your young men if needed. The offer still stands."
"Perhaps you'd be safer to come up to Home too," April suggested.
Papa-san looked surprised at the idea. He looked at his wife and pursed his mouth. "Perhaps in the future. I'm not quite ready for that big a move. That would be taken as a political statement by my colleagues," he explained. "I'm not sure it's a statement I want to make yet."
"I'd like to contact my service, when it won't compromise our location," Gunny added.
"If I call Home, I can arrange to have your call relayed, so that our location is hidden from the end recipient," April promised.
"I'd appreciate it if you went through the ship's dish to contact Home," Papa-san requested. I know your com will contact them, given the power from your pistol, but that has to radiate pretty broadly. I don't know who might be out there looking for us. My radio guy can set his gear up to track Home and radiate quite tightly."
"No need. I can give you a geostationary sat to aim at. It won't answer until you ping it with the right code. And it has two mates, so it can relay through them to Home anywhere along its orbit. We set that up about two months ago, so it was tested before I came down. It's encrypted, but it talks to the other sats with a laser, so chances are nobody will know there is any traffic. I wish my laser could be modulated to transmit directly, but Jeff hasn't built that in yet."
"Wait until we cross the equator. I'll feel safer well away from Hawaii,"
"No hurry. They know I'm out of touch for a few days. You got any urgency Gunny?"
"Not to my knowledge. I'd like to get some news and understand what's going on first if I can, before contacting my chain of command."
"There is regular television we can get off the satellites. For as much good as the regular news channels are worth to you. We had coverage from six satellites until some maniac shot them up last year," he said squinting at April. "We're down to two now, but each carries multiple channels."
"We missed two?" she asked, totally unrepentant.
* * *
The day was uneventful, the sailing smooth. April cleaned up after breakfast and decided she didn't need to wear the public eye away from land. She took it on deck though to record what it was like sailing. At one point there was a large ship on the horizon, crossing in front of them east to west. The man Haru was at the wheel again. He adjusted the sails slightly and aimed to their rear to keep as far from them as possible. Their own radar was turned off during the day and he explained the radar reflector they normally carried aloft was stowed below. They might use their radar if visibility was very poor, but even at night they planned to keep a careful watch with binoculars and leave their lights off.
The fewer people who saw or reported a vessel of their size the better. Satellites they could do little about, but there were far fewer of them since the Happy Lewis had destroyed so many, a year ago. The various nations had used the cover of that, to take out quite a few satellites of unfriendly powers, while it could be blamed on somebody else. Indeed the Happy had not destroyed a single satellite in Low Earth Orbit, but they were seriously depopulated.
April tried to volunteer to help with lunch, but the galley was so small and the provisions so organized, she was just in the way. The other young man Taro sent her back to the wheel, with the suggestion she be put to work fishing. That sounded interesting. Haru called Li, who was clearly his supervisor and passed the idea along.
"We often put four or six lines out in the evening," Li agreed, "but we don't usually do well enough in the day to bother. It is complicated setting a spread of multiple lines and knowing how to pull them in, especially in the dark. I don't want to get into that with you. It's easy to get them tangled and you can hurt yourself landing a fish. Why don't we just have you fish over the transom with a rod, for right now?"
"I think it was more for entertainment than catching supper. I'd like to try it though."
Li already had her on a safety line, like going EV in a shuttle and set a swivel seat into a deck sprocket in the corner of the cockpit and put its belt on her loosely too. He explained how the tackle worked and showed her the line and leader with a shiny spoon on it. "This is weighed to let the lure work to the surface and dive, back and forth. You want to hold the pole up at forty to sixty degrees and let about twenty meters of line out. If you get a bite give a yell and start reeling it in. Somebody will come gaff it and help you get it aboard."
"It doesn't need bait on it?"
"Trust me, the flash and motion does it." He got her set. "Don't leave the fighting chair if you get one. We'll land it for you."
"Fighting chair?"
"If you hook a big fish it can be quite the struggle pulling it in. Chances are, nothing like that is going to hit on a two inch spoon." He went back forward and left her alone.
The day had started warm, it was hot now. Gunny came by and chatted about fishing a bit. Apparently most of what he caught, this crew would consider live bait. He brought her a sandwich and a new drink. After the meal and Gunny went away, it wasn't long before her eyes closed. She retained her grip on the rod however.
A sudden jerk brought her awake. She started cranking the reel and yelled, "I got one!" The fish pulled the drag a couple times, but mostly he was being pulled in. It didn't take long to see him. Haru showed up beside her and instructed her how short to get the line. When the fish got near the boat he put the end of the gaff in the water. Just before it touched the surface he set the gaff in the head with a sharp pull and quickly raised it hand over hand.
He swung it over the rail away from April and pinned it to the deck with the gaff. The amount of blood spraying shocked April and Haru reached in with a slim blade and punched the fish just behind the eyes. It immediately stopped its wild movements.
"You got a nice little yellow fin tuna here," Haru complimented her. "Maybe sixteen kilo." He deftly removed the hook with a pair of pliers and held it where she could swing it back over the water. "You go ahead and see if there are more. I have a cleaning station that folds out on the side. I'll filet this right away and get it in the cooler."
April was so shaken from the adrenaline rush of the catch and the violence of the gaffing, she wasn't sure she wanted another fish to land right now, but she understood maybe they were in a school. She dutifully got the lure back in the same place. However nothing happened for a long time. Her side was aching a little too.
"Lunch tomorrow!" Haru said, proudly displaying the filets on a plastic tray for her.
"I should have learned how to clean it too," she suddenly realized.
"That is the least fun part of it," he assured her, laughing. "Plenty of time to do that some other day, if you insist."
"If that's enough for a meal, would you come back and unhook me and help me put this stuff away for today?"
"Sure, be back in a jiffy."
She didn't cheat and bring the line in, But she was just as happy he returned before she hooked another one. By the time the gear was stowed and the blood flushed down the scuppers, it was almost time for supper.
* * *
The national news programs had nothing helpful. There was no indication of unrest, possible coup plots, or even unexplained reentry tracks across the Hawaiian sky. There was no mention of President Wiggen doing any sort of public appearances however. There hadn't been for several days. That was mildly suspicious. Indeed the damning thing in the news was the lack of any hard stories. Way too much of it was human interest stories, weather and almost in desperation stories about pets saving families from fires or other disaster. They had no access to local news.
"Something stinks," Gunny observed. "There are usually several stories of thwarted domestic terrorists to keep the public paranoia active."
"If they weren't thwarted, it just serves as a template for copy-cats," April observed.
"My phone seems to be actively blacklisted," Gunny explained. "Can you let me use yours and I'll call a number I know after you?"
"Sure, my friend Heather can route us, so your number can't back trace us, or get my number." She talked with Li about what sat to point the dish at to set the call up. Papa-san went back to the cockpit, either for necessity, or to give them some privacy.
"April, we've been worried about you," Heather said first thing.
"Can you cover up where this call comes from Heather?"
"Oh, yes that's trivial. I can spoof it as originating somewhere else if you like. Your present location did sort of surprise me."
"Somewhere in Honolulu would be great so maybe they think we are still on the island. Adzusa took me to a place called the Big City Diner, that has been there forever, if you have a listing for it can you make it look like we called from there? I want to give my bodyguard a turn after we are done."
"You got it. Just tell me when you want disconnected and are handing it to him. Are you coming home soon? What can we do for you?"
"First news. Is Satos house still there? What can you see from orbit? And did Mitch nail that submarine I asked him to hit for me? He certainly expended enough rods."
"The Santos place is there, with a couple cars sitting blocking their driveway. That looks like it will stay that way for awhile. There was a flurry of activity after you left. A half dozen cop cars right at the house and folks going in and out. Also a massive response in the woods just north of the house. All kinds of fire and rescue and military. They loaded a couple air cars on flat bed trucks and took them away. Well, what was left of them," she amended.
"The Chinese missile you shot down landed right by them. A couple meters short and it would have landed right on one. The submarine broke up for sure. There was all kinds of crap floating on the surface and a small slick of oil, but not fuel. I'd say just stores and lubricating oils. It had to be a nuke-boat. There were a bunch of small boats there and a Coast Guard cutter pretty fast. They pulled a lot of pieces and junk out of the water and left a radar buoy that holds position. It's deep there so no way they will recover any big parts without special equipment."
"I figure the guys in the aircars were to rush in and evaluate if the missile did the job and grab or finish off anybody that survived. How ironic their own missile crashed on them."
"Maybe, but we don't have any evidence the aircar group was Chinese. I wouldn't assume that until we have some hard intelligence. You did have a group of Chinese show up to mess with your house. Adzusa said to tell you they never got close and the guys your bodyguard set up to watch, cleared most of the, uh, incriminating parts away, before the cops got there. You owe your neighbor Diana some big home repairs and she's staying at your place until then."
"Why does everything have to be complicated?" April complained.
"Jeff asked me to get a formal verbal OK, to allow him to use your shares of material from the Rock for that last project you assigned him. I'm recording. Is that your will?"
"Sure, Jeff can speak for me. I give him limited power of attorney to manage my Rock shares for any project he wishes. Take my voice profile as my signature. April Lewis, January 10, 2085. In particular, I wish Asteroid Materials Association to honor this assignment, as I am unable to be present to wet ink a contract. There, satisfied?"
"That should do it. We're dealing with Home people, not North American legalities. You have a bunch of stuff to look over from your brother. Your grandpa is taking care of that until you get back. We have both of Eddie's new ships at the stage they can launch early, minus certain minor systems, if the need arises. Jeff was fretting because it set some project of his back a few days. We also have three volunteer ships carrying extra weapons and crew, until we get them in service. Two of those are running short loads to volunteer their services. It's great to see them step up like that."
"If they are covering defense can you use the Happy to set up your moon business?"
"Yes, Eddie came in on that. He's very supportive. Jeff and Happy will both come on the initial landing. I hope to be gone before you make it back. You know the two station security guys who came up on NLV when you extracted Don? They got a ride on a French ship and are in Home now. Big story there when we are face to face. Oh and congratulations," Heather said mysteriously.
"For what?"
"You turned fifteen a few days ago," Heather said, amused.
"Yeah, I was planning on skipping that this year," April joked. On Home, custom was birthdays were for little kids. LET would encourage that.
"You coming up soon?"
"We'll see. That is sort of up in the air. If that's all for me, will you handle a call for my bodyguard, Gunny?"
"Wow, what a nickname. Yeah, if that's all your pressing business, put him on."
"Hello Heather, this is Master Sergeant Tindal, or as April said, Gunny. I just get dead air on my cell phone when I try to dial. Somebody has me excluded from the system. Would you try this number please, voice only and ask for Captain Yoder please?"
"Calling," she announced, they heard a couple rings.
"Protective Services."
"Master Sergeant Tindal for Captain Yoder please," she requested.
"Captain Yoder is no longer assigned here. I am Captain Maddow. Are you calling to arrange for Master Sergeant Tindal to turn himself in?" There was a long uncomfortable silence.
"I'm simply acting as a relay for telephone service. I am not his agent, so I suggest you speak with him yourself."
"Certainly, put him on please."
"Tindal here," Gunny spoke up.
"Master Sergeant, I strongly suggest you avoid making any statements to me or anyone else, until you have counsel and turn yourself in to appropriate authority without delay."
"Captain, Maddow, sir, I had had no knowledge I was wanted for any criminal charges until this moment. You can imagine I am at least curious what the charges are against me."
"I suppose I can advise you of that without any complications," Maddow allowed. "I took command here early yesterday and your folder was one of the key things laid on my desk for my immediate attention. You are listed as AWOL and tagged as a security risk, because a number of weapons are missing from the time you left. Also we have new information just today, that you had some unusual financial transactions yesterday, that are a security concern."
"Did the folder detail the special assignment I was tasked with?" Gunny inquired.
"No Sergeant, it didn't."
"I suggest you speak with Captain Yoder. He gave me letters and briefing materials and provided transport for my assignment under direct orders of the President."
"Sergeant, Captain Yoder was relieved for mental health issues. I probably shouldn't even say that much, given the privacy issues of medical information. If I were you however, I'd be very concerned with the validity of any orders he issued."
"We are at loggerheads then Captain. I'm very confident I was not flown across the continent on a VIP aircraft, issued high level security materials and met and supported by high level State Department staff, on the orders of a mad man. I did not speak to President Wiggen, but I saw video of her arranging my assignment with the principal I am protecting. And I do have orders with her wet ink signature. What we have here is politics. I'd say the same thing to you. You better investigate the sources of your orders. I say that with all respect, assuming you have no reason to believe they are not lawful orders. You might start by asking my replacement what written materials Captain Yoder and I left behind, to allow my temporary replacement to take up the day to day work I was doing. You will see it was an orderly transition. I didn't just walk away. Also ask the State Department what arrangements were made, because they transported my car back to my house and were to close up the house and take custody of its care for me."
"Sergeant I arrived to find nobody assigned to your position, among other matters in disarray. It has caused a disruption, abandoning your post and I still don't have someone in place. I understand the MPs have done a search of your home and looked for evidence of the reason for your absence. I'm simply not interested in continuing this conversation. I frankly don't believe you and the last thing I must to do, is order you again to turn yourself in. The longer you are absent the worse it looks. May I offer you any assistance to turn yourself in? If you stay right where you are, I'd be happy to send a patrol to pick you up, with orders not to cuff you."
"I'm sorry sir, I'm not in a position to do that. It would contradict what I see as legitimate orders, from well above you in the chain and it's physically impossible at the moment."
"Call back if you change your mind," Maddow said in frosty tones and hung up.
"Well shit." Gunny groused.
"That didn't go well," Heather agreed. "You done with this circuit?" she asked.
"Unless April wants to call the President. I'm worried her protective detail might be compromised. It would be a kindness to let her know if you can."
"I guess I owe her that much. Give me a minute to hang a sheet behind me and I'll do video too. I don't want anybody to get any clues where we are."
Papa-san helped drape a white sheet behind her and they checked the camera coverage. It looked good. April gave Heather the private number to reach President Wiggen and waited.
"I'm not getting anything," Heather said.
"Is it out of service or a busy signal, or what?" April asked.
"Nothing. I punch the number in and it just ignores it. No response."
"I guess we are done then. Love you," April added. "Thanks for the help."
"You are welcome sweetie. Try to be safe huh? Call if you can every few days."
"I'll see if Papa-san thinks it is safe. Bye," and closed out her pad.
"They want to arrest you?" she asked Gunny, indignant.
"Which isn't near as bad as having a missile dropped on me," he pointed out.
"Maybe having Papa-san yank your money wasn't such a good idea after all."
"Nah, I think it was just in time. They probably missed snatching every buck I had by hours. They love to leave you penniless when they throw a laundry list of charges at you, after they have removed every asset you might use to hire effective counsel. The only thing making me sad, is I had quite a bit of my money tied up in my house. I'm sure I won't be getting my auto deposited pay anymore, so I'll lose the house to taxes before this all settles out. I had it set up for auto-pay. It's a shame. I have a lot of memories in that house and it I lucked out that it was in the right place to gain nicely in value."
"Gunny, I feel responsible. You got in this mess protecting me. It was my idea even if it was Wiggen's order. I promise I'll cover any loss you suffer from guarding me. If you aren't safe to go back home I'll cover the cost of it and either hire you, or introduce you to somebody who will. Does that help settle your mind over the house?"
"Perhaps you should just buy the house from me if it comes to that," Gunny suggested. "Seems to me Home might need a place near Washington from time to time. That way you have something for your money. They can't give you near the grief they can me, if you show up with a quit claim deed and take possession."
"OK, we'll leave it at that," April agreed.
"Let's go talk to Papa-san, April suggested. Gunny just nodded and didn't ask details.
She found him sitting on one of the side benches, watching Haru at the wheel. Gunny took the other end. She got the impression Haru was the least skilled of Papa-sans men.
The news his home was intact didn't seem to interest Papa-san. He agreed it was folly to assume the aircars and sub were connected. "Papa-san we just can't find out anything. Something stinks, but the public services are of no use and we are both cut out of the phone system from inside. They have Gunny listed as AWOL. I could get Heather to force contact with Wiggen by open transmission, but I hesitate to do that. It might create problems for her, if it looks like she is having trouble maintaining control. Do you have any professional contacts who would know what is really going on?"
"Sit down. You make me feel like I have to answer you quickly, standing there bouncing on your feet. You aren't going anywhere," he pointed out, his hand indicating the surrounding ocean. "Are you unhappy with the aid I am rendering so far?" he asked, reasonably.
"Not at all! I'm sorry I dragged you this deeply into it. Nobody ordered you to help me like Gunny. I'm just a friend of Adzusa and now your house was threatened and you can't go back to it. We are skulking around out in the middle of the ocean. I owe you a world of debt, even if you never do another thing for me."
"It was my pleasure," he said with a dismissive wave. "However, this contacting old associates, such stirring of the pot would have consequences. It would imply I am involving myself again in political affairs. It might alarm people, who would feel compelled to act when they feel threatened. A great many people right now will be very happy, if they don't hear a thing from me. They may appear stupid, but the lesson will not be lost that an attack on my home cost many lives and billions of dollars in assets, yet I'm still out there somewhere and nobody can be certain whom I blame. The Chinese as a nation did not attack my home. One particular official took it upon himself to do so and they know I understand that is how things really work. So I doubt anyone is going to claim such a failed operation for his own. Right now I'd rather let them sweat. The less they hear the better in that regard. You understand?"
"Yeah, the way you work wouldn't be a missile back, it would be more surgical. Some Party guy would forget and foolishly step near a window, or he'd find half way through his Grouper dinner, that it was poorly trimmed Puffer fish and he couldn't breathe anymore."
"Crudely put, but that is the essence of it. If it comes to that, I'd rather it be a complete surprise too," he smiled and it wasn't a pretty smile.
"I'm going to take a nap," Gunny declared. "Li is going to give me some instruction on boat handling later and I should be rested."
"Would you get me up too? I'll stay out of the way, but I'd like to listen."
"Sure. You're going to get some sleep too then?"
"If I can stop thinking," she admitted. He nodded and went down the companionway.
Chapter 43
Heather was cuddled against her on one side and Jeff on the other side had a warm hand on her shoulder, comforting her. Why was he shaking it? She reached up and the hand was far too large and coarse. The dream came apart in tatters and she opened her eyes to Gunny, giving her shoulder a little shake again. Her stateroom had barely enough light to find the door safely.
Gunny put his index across his lips, in a shushing gesture. That made sense, everybody else must be sleeping. April sat up and nodded, he went back out in the passageway and turned left to the stairs, what had they called them? So many weird names to remember.
April used the tiny head in her room and washed her face with a cloth. It didn't seem any cooler than when she went to sleep. There was a low murmur of ventilation fans, but if there was cooling they weren't using it. She sat on the bed and put her shoes back on and followed Gunny up to the place they steered the ship, the cockpit. It was sunken from the deck, with a full stout rail, but there was also an arch that went across, which shaded it in the day.
There were adjustable awnings that extended the shaded area, even if the sun was low in the sky and there were clamshell doors with big rectangular ports that sealed all four corners of the arch and turned it into a wheel house if there was need. There was lots of open deck to the rear, where the fighting chair pedestals went in the deck and the fish cleaning station folded over the side that the clamshells wouldn't enclose.
Gunny clipped a line on her although it wasn't rough. In fact they were going noticeably slower than in the daytime, when she was fishing. The moon was low, near setting and there were scattered clouds occasionally obscuring it. It was muggy and she momentarily thought about getting her chilled moon suit but dismissed it.
She listened carefully as Li showed Gunny the controls. The sails were put away by hand but moved about and deployed by electric motors instead of by hand once they were free. There was an autopilot, that had to be disengaged to demonstrate the manual controls. The passive sensors and GPS made sense.
Their present rate of progress was lower, not only from less wind, but from the heading where the wind was coming from. Gunny seemed to understand how that worked better than her. She thought it had to do with the keel, but she couldn't picture the vectors in her mind. She'd ask Gunny to explain it latter.
After the moon went down the night was really dark. She thought they were running without lights, but it looked like there was a light on in the rear. She leaned out over the transom trying to see.
"What are you looking for? You worry me hanging over the rail like that."
"I see a light on the water behind us. I thought we were running blacked out. Did somebody flip the wrong switch and turn a light on the rear, uh, stern?"
Li giggled and in the light from the instruments she could see him grinning at her.
"No Missy, there are little creatures in the water. When we pass through and roil the water they glow. Each one is not very bright, but there are lots of them. I don't know why they do that, but sometimes they light up the waves on the beach too. Pretty isn't it?"
"Yes, prettier for knowing how strange it is," she agreed, fascinated.
They sailed along for several hours, a few soft words passing between Gunny and Li, but no more real instruction. The peace punctuated by something hurling past her head far too close and a solid thump inboard.
"Incoming!" April warned them, but Gunny hit the deck even before she did. Li hadn't wavered from his duty. She waited but there weren't any more. Li spoke softly and handed Gunny something and he went forward into the dark corner of the cockpit. When he turned the small flashlight on, there was a fish in the corner, dead or knocked senseless, as it wasn't moving.
A few more soft words of instruction and Gunny took it by the tail, smacking its head solidly over the rail. No doubt it wasn't waking up now. Gunny took the wheel for the first time alone and Li disappeared briefly to return with a cooler. He showed her the fish, before it disappeared whole into the ice. It was as long as her forearm, with exaggerated fins.
"It is Tobiuo," he explained. "The same name as the ship. "You would say in English, a flying fish. They are very good eating." He had no sooner explained than there was another muffled thud, but this one was thrashing on the deck instead of stunned.
"Watch me Missy," he took his flashlight back and climbed up on deck. April watched him step on the fish to pin it down, but he obviously didn't put his full weight on it. A small blade nipped its spine behind the head and it joined the other in the chest.
"You get next one, OK?" he asked her, handing her the little flashlight.
"Right, she agreed," If she was less than enthusiastic he didn't notice. With a little luck there wouldn't be anymore. Luck held for a long time and then there were three all together. One smacking Gunny in the ear, hard enough to make him swear. April scrambled to get the first two and turned to find Gunny had finished off his assailant and silently handed it to her by the tail. By the time she was too tired to keep her eyes open and went to her stateroom, they had seven in the cooler.
In the morning there was no wind at all. She woke up to an odd noise and came up on deck to see what it was. The sails was hanging limp and every once in awhile a swirl of air would flap them about and make the mast and rigging ring a bit, but it never kept it up enough to get the ship under way in one direction. The clouds were low and you could see the turbulence working in the bottom and it was oppressively hot and humid. She sat on one of the side benches and stuck her public eye where it could watch the whole boat, from the corner of the transom.
"When we are far offshore and in these latitudes we run a French boat," Papa-san informed his new passengers. If you want to go nude, feel free. If we make port we cover up. I'm putting out a hose here and forward on the deck if you want to spray down, but it's sea water not fresh. I keep a spray bottle full of fresh for my face and hair."
Despite his declaration, Papa-san was still in trunks and baseball cap. Gunny was in big baggy floral trunks and a perfect white Panama. Li and Taro were nude and what surprised her more, was both had run clippers over their heads for a very close crew cut. Li had thick longish black hair before, no more. Neither had much body hair and were slight in build, which made them seem childish. Mama-san was not nude, she had on a big brimmed hat and sneakers, beside the safety line. Li and Taro, she noticed, handled the sails with no safety lines on them.
As she was looking at the clouds, they seemed darker in the distance, one of the flying fish left the water sailed clear across the stern of the boat chest high between Papa-san and Gunny. It didn't hit water on the other side for a good twenty meters. April shouted a big whoop of delight, thoroughly impressed. They hadn't really been visible in the night.
"Heh, they go three or four times that far," Papa-san assured her. "Neat huh?"
"I thought maybe you'd slap him down as he went past," she told Gunny.
"It just never occurred to me," he admitted. "I was looking more to duck, if he was going to hit me. We got two more last night after you went to bed. I think we have enough of them for right now anyway."
"Will you run the engines if there is no wind?" April wondered.
"Perhaps, no hurry." He worked with Taro to drop the big sail and reduced the area the ones forward presented. He gave the dark clouds approaching not a worried look, but appraising.
"Is that a problem, the dark stuff?"
"It could have winds or not. You don't want a big wind to catch you with too much sail out. We can always add more, but it can bust stuff faster than you can take it down. I'm going to sneak a quick peek on radar," he decided.
"I don't see any hail or anything," he declared in a few minutes. "It looks like a good heavy rain though. We'll catch some of it on a sail for our tanks, if it is steady."
The deck was textured in the cockpit, but Mama-san warned them she was going to make it slick. She squirted liquid soap on it and a bit of seawater. She scrubbed thoroughly with a soft brush that had a long handle like a mop. When the rain hit the soapy water was gone down the scuppers in a moment. The young men rigged a big tarp, sloped to the cockpit and a surprising stream of water poured off that too. After a few minutes they stuck plugs in the scuppers and pulled out flush plugs in the rear corners April hadn't known were drains.
"It's clean enough to drink?" April asked.
"At this latitude, far from land? I'd drink it without any concerns," Papa-san told her. "But our drinking water is filtered in any case. I'm more worried about water we buy in port. It might be ground water, or rain water collected off a surface that isn't clean. We'll get several hundred gallons the way this isn't letting up. Water costs quite a bit in most ports out here, so free is nice."
The rain was warm, almost like a shower and April decided to go with the French boat drill and took off her already soaked clothing. It felt weird to think she'd be drinking the water running off her.
A late breakfast buffet was laid out and people wondered in and took what they wanted one by one. It was too hot to eat much. When the rain finally stopped it was as dead as before. Papa-san fired up one of the two Diesels and steered southwest. He explained when they got wind it would probably take them more east than they wanted. The engine was barely off idle, a low rumble that he explained was the most efficient speed.
"I can get you a fusion power plant if you want," April offered. "A couple liters of heavy water should last you years and all the auxiliary power you could want."
"And how big is this power plant," Papa-san asked, skeptical.
"About like yea," April said defining less than a half cubic meter with her hands.
"The whole thing? Enough to push this boat?"
"Yeah, four of them will push my ship at nine g and power to spare," she said.
"Hell yeah, we'll gladly take one of those."
"You might put a laser up on the mast while you are at it. You got all that power. It would give you something to argue with, if somebody gets too frisky with you out here."
"This area is pretty safe," Papa-san assured her. We have an old .50 caliber over there in a locker, if we do run into a problem. But it's true there are places in the Caribbean and around Africa, especially up toward the Middle East I'd rather not go. Over around Indonesia, South East Asia, I wouldn't go unless I owned a frigate. They have some serious pirates and some of the heavily armed government boats aren’t above a little piracy on the side."
The rain passed, but the wind didn't pick up. There were high scattered clouds, that frustrated them by scuttling along, but the wind on the surface stayed calm. The GPS showed them making a jog to the west while they stayed on the same heading so Papa-san backtracked a little and found a current carrying them southwest at a bit over four knots. They eased out of it after a couple hours and fired up the engine and found it again. The next time they made a big circle they had lost it, so they headed south again under power.
Mid-afternoon a breeze came up strong enough to spin the long cylindrical wind turbine, mounted in front of the main mast. Papa-san didn't get excited. It had spun before from a brief gust. After it kept going several minutes, he trusted it enough to let out the triangular sail all the way forward. He cut the engine and added a bit more sail, Taro helping out on the deck to let them loose. It took about a half hour to get all of them up and adjusted. They weren't going as fast as yesterday, but better than they had with the Diesel.
Supper was cold stuff, brought out to the cockpit on a plate to eat. Nobody wanted to stay inside. The wind eased off at dusk, but didn't die entirely. April took a shower and before she could get all sweaty again she donned the moon suit and slept in it, cool and comfortable.
April woke to a pitching movement, that threatened to toss her on the floor. The day was bright already and the boat was making noise. She used the toilet braced to keep from being thrown off. It was a bizarre experience to her. She went above with the suit on and was clipped on a safety line before she could step foot in the cockpit.
The front of the wheel house was sealed up and the spray periodically hit the ports as the bow cut through the waves. They were going really fast and the water foamed and was near the rail on one side. Papa-san was at the wheel with a big grin. It was exhilarating. She re-posted her public eye where it could record the action. She was using it as a vacation cam now.
"I had the radar up a few minutes. It's going to get rougher than this," he warned. "If you going to stay up here I want you to change your suit color to a bright safety color and put a floatation vest with a tracking device on."
"Even with a line on me?" April asked surprised.
"I'm a belt and suspenders sort of guy in this weather."
Li and Taro were out there, with lines on for the first time she'd seen and soon there were only two small sails up at the bow. The boat wasn't tilted over as far but it was still plenty fast. They kept getting sudden squalls of rain, that seems to blow so horizontal April wondered if it was really falling back in the ocean. There seemed to be a lot of lightning behind them and that's what finally made her decide to go back below. She left the eye to record it though.
Gunny didn't look like he was interested in food. Mama-san Lin was making some sandwiches for the topside crew. It was warm still, but the wind chilled you even at this temperature and Papa-san called down he wanted slickers. The sails trimmed, Li and Taro swung the clamshells of the wheel house shut on the rear and dogged them down, before the wind made it too dangerous to move them. He ran the radar again, but the roughness of the sea limited the range severely. It would have to be a big boat, really close, to get a return in these waves. The wind was picking water up off the tops of the waves in sheets and flinging it in the air.
"Is this dangerous?" April asked Mama-san, when the pitching got particularly nasty.
"Not yet," she answered with a smile. "Papa has not even put out a sea anchor to stabilize her. I believe Tobiuo is stronger than you think. She is graphene and Buckey tube composite. She will bob up from a rogue wave, that would demast and crush a ship of thirty years ago.
"What is a sea anchor?"
"It is like a fabric bucket with holes, that trails behind the ship and pulls on the stern to keep us straight and increase our drag."
"Oh, it's like a drogue parachute then," April said, understanding it quickly.
"Your bunk has a net that raises along the edge. You might not be able to sleep, but you can still rest," Mama-san suggested. "I'm going to."
"I'll come get you if I can't figure it out," April agreed. It was simple, but folded under the edge of the mattress. April had a couple extra pillows and lined them up against the bulkhead. She lay for a long time and fell asleep eventually, but a different noise or motion would jar her awake occasionally.
When the storm ended it seemed the calm actually woke her, it was such a big change. It was not light yet at all and she went back to sleep gratefully.
* * *
Another day of much less exciting sailing, brought them to the atoll Papa-san had promised. They dropped all sails and loitered at anchor for a couple hours. Then when the tide made the ocean flow into the lagoon he fired up the engines and shot through the gap using the GPS to hold to the center of the channel. Taro stood on the bow to watch for any obstructions, but they acknowledged once he started he was committed and likely nothing could be done if there was a problem.
April asked if they could not have sent their rubber dinghy through, with a handheld radio and then follow. Papa-san said yes, but Taro saw much better high on the bow, than down in a dinghy in the turbulent flow. And if he did decide the ship should not come in they'd have to wait until the tide was running the other way to recover him. April concluded they just didn't have the patience to do it the safe way. She wanted to say something sexist about male ego, but refrained. Probably that was good. Mama-san seemed to be watching her with interest.
The men went to a great deal of trouble to anchor them securely, with multiple lines. Li explained the extra care was as much to make sure they didn't damage the coral, as to see them safe. The water was shallow and clear. This was not a nature preserve, like several others they might have visited, but Papa-san was especially careful of it, because it had less biodiversity than the others, both on the land and in the water. He attributed that to its isolation and the fact it had much less rainfall than the ones to the south east.
They repaired a few small leaks from the storm, maintained the French boat custom, relaxed and enjoyed the sun, called Home briefly and April learned how to snorkel. She had to be talked back into the water, after seeing her first reef shark. She learned to spear fish and clean them too.
"I was going to Samoa," Papa-san told them over dinner, after three days of lolling about. "But I feel we are so in the dark . There might be warrants or other trouble, waiting for us there. I am inclined to go directly to Tonga, were the political situation is more certain. Are you going to lift from there for Home?" he asked April.
"Yeah, I think I've done as much damage as I can down here," April admitted. "Gunny what are you going to do?"
"The offer still open to find me a job?"
"Yes and we have a labor shortage. I don't see that as a problem."
"Then I'm ready to try a new place, without extradition to North America. I have no family responsibilities, my kids are grown and I'm not interested in being caught between factions playing power games."
"How about you Papa-san? What are you going to do?"
"You still want your young men rescued don't you? I thought I might be of assistance in that matter, while I lay low and see what works out with both Wiggen and the Chinese. Perhaps with you gone they will have no interest in me. If we should decide to move off Earth there is still plenty of time for that."
"Do you feel safe to travel in North America? My lieutenants are in Maine. I can get word to them if you want. I expect them to check their communications, when I miss the first rendezvous. But I don't want to just add you and your folks to the list to be rescued."
Papa-san got a happy smile. "Tell your young men to meet this ship in Northeast Harbor on Mount Desert Isle, Maine on the second weekend in July."
"You are going to take this ship that far?" April asked big eyed. "That's like half way around the world. Can it handle that sort of a trip? I mean, that's on the Atlantic Ocean instead of the Pacific, right?"
"Yes, if I hurry I can round the Horn before the season closes. The wind and currents are good for a fast passage. It gets windier in March and the rains start up. Much smaller ships than this have gone through the Drake passage."
"If you are sure. I don't want you getting yourself killed doing something crazy for me."
"It will be an adventure," Papa-san assured her with a smile.
* * *
They anchored in Neiafu Harbor after sinking the ship's Browning and Gunny's weapons in a weighed chest they could recover later. Otherwise customs would hold them until their departure and sometimes they held them a little too tightly. April decided to loan her pistol to Papa-san for boat security and passed control to him. She also didn't want it to be an issue with customs.
They saw two shuttles climb into the sky as they neared the main island. After they were anchored, they saw one on approach from the west.
Papa-san ran up a Q-flag, a solid yellow square that informed them the ship had not checked in for health and customs and waited.
The two officials who came aboard didn't search the ship. They were invited to sit at the table and offered refreshments. They inquired after fresh fruits and vegetables and shell eggs. They had used all of theirs, so that was no problem. They had no firearms aboard to surrender. If they knew what the public eye was, April had back on they ignored it.
Papa-san paid a bewildering array of fees and taxes. He even had to pay for trash disposal up front. There was a fee to certify they were not bringing any disease in. A fee for mooring. visa fees and fees associated with entering this particular sub-set of islands. If the boat has been two meters longer they would have been higher yet. April could see keeping a nice boat was expensive. Since she had no passport, April was given a stamped sheet to keep with her spacer's papers. Tonga customs was very familiar with citizens of Home. Just not in the harbor usually.
The next morning they had time for breakfast ashore, before April and Gunny headed to the spaceport. A stranger walked up and handed Papa-san an envelope while they were eating. He said a few words very quietly and made a low bow. Papa-san just thanked him and the fellow left without hesitation.
"I was able to retrieve your bank accounts as I promised some time ago," Papa-san reminded Gunny. "I thank you for not asking constantly about it, because once I set it in motion, there were no updates as to what was happening. I think you will find everything was recovered smoothly." He handed him the envelope and Gunny paid him the compliment of just tucking it away with his thanks and not opening it.
When the meal was done a taxi was called and there was hand shaking all around. April hugged everyone. Somehow she felt like she was abandoning them. Gunny looked pretty stunned when he climbed in the cab. He finally did open the envelope and found a deposit slip, a credit card and a couple thousand in mixed USNA notes and EuroMarks.
Boarding wasn't complicated. Gunny presented ID at the gate and April had a voucher. Once they saw the voucher they didn't even ask for ID. Anybody could use a voucher. It was like cash.
They had two of four seats, on a direct Mitsubishi shuttle that was mostly a freight hauler. They were the only two passengers and they were assigned the two center seats, likely to best balance the mass. April wasn't surprised to see there were a couple UPS bags and two big coolers with red HOT labels, strapped in the two empty seats. It could be medical, or it might be live lobsters. That meant they could not use the two small ports to look out during lift. The deck was offset below a round hatch, instead of a rectangular door. Below the flat deck had to be a freight hold. The overhead was flat too and low. Little cubic was wasted. The entry and airlock was in front of Gunny's side . The head was in front of April's side.
When the flight crew came on it was two lovely ladies. They said hi briefly, passing through to the flight deck and took their seats immediately starting a long preflight. Most of it was nonsense, if you didn't know the terminology. "Terminal TVA set on manual VR with auto GBA override, check," was Greek to April even. She wasn't ground to orbit qualified. But they left the feed on, if you wanted to listen in and didn't dog the hatch closed to their section so you could hear them faintly, even without the radio channel.
They reached a point where they gave an OK to their carrier aircraft and then the activity shifted to him. He had clearance to taxi and rolled in seconds, a slow waddling motion, as he taxied on electric wheel motors. They stopped again and after another clearance he started his flight engines. It was only ten seconds or so, until they were gently pushed in their seats and they rolled down the runway. It was a twenty minute climb and several transitions, until there was a thump and their own engines fired.
"Be damned, it worked again," their pilot marveled. "See you Wednesday, Todd." She told the departing carrier. He reply was an unintelligible crackle.
The push this time had more authority. It eased on and April looked over to make sure Gunny didn't have an arm hanging out or doing anything else to get in trouble. He was following all the instructions the flight crew had read them. When the acceleration eased off the crew reminded the passengers where the barf bags were. Gunny didn't seem distressed.
"It does feel a little weird when you turn your head," he admitted.
"Final maneuvers to match Mitsubishi 3, in about thirty minutes," their copilot informed them. "Please be in your seat if you are not using the head. I recommend you loosen your belts, but leave them latched."
The pilot reappeared and hung by one hand from the side of April's couch. "Are you by any chance the Miss Lewis associated with Lewis Couriers?" she inquired.
"I'm the owner," April admitted. A fact she still had to internalize completely.
"Is there any possibility you folks will be running shuttles in the future?" she asked. "I'd much rather be space based, doing turn-arounds to Earth ports, than the other way around."
"We are an operating company you know. But the fact is I've been telling the fellow that owns our hulls and the two who have been doing most of our design work, that we can't keep depending on Earthies for our lift and lander capabilities. How fast that is going to happen I can't promise, but my number is open listed on station com, if you want to send me a resume. Would you have any objection to doing lifts to the Moon or beyond?"
"Object? You have to tie me up, to keep me from going," she laughed. "Thank you, my resume will be in your inbox late Wednesday," she promised. "I'm Kaihau Laulu." They touched hands and Kaihau went back in the flight deck slick as a fish in the zero G.
"Moon or beyond?" Gunny asked, surprised and interested.
"Did you think we just aspired to run the equivalent of an orbital taxi stand?" April asked amused. "There's a lot of stuff going on we never talked about."
Chapter 44
The Home Again had its shake down run to New Las Vegas a week ago. A couple of the circuits checked two out of three redundancies, but nothing vital. She flew OK. They would trace down the bad third circuits soon and get the coffee maker installed.
Today was a quick run to ISSII, with UPS and some transfer freight. They ran no passengers and unpressurized, because Jeff had a half dozen stealth satellites to place in orbits. They did a lot of these placements for the militia, as the fab shops cranked out regular monthly orders, dumb rods and better weapons with a charge, that would loiter and wait for a signal. They did it cheap in self interest.
These seemed to be a new model, about the size of a twenty liter plastic pickle bucket. They had a bigger heat shield than usual, but that was no concern of theirs. They just eased it out the lock, when they had the orbital parameters right.
There was a lot of stealthed stuff at certain levels. Everybody tried to keep it out of the approaches with a lot of traffic. Eventually somebody would run into one of them, but you could hardly put a beacon on it, or they'd get cataloged if not actually swept up.
Epilogue
Colonel Feldman discarded his light weight uniform and was in black tactical underneath. It was not any uniform, it was civilian supply and had no rank markings or unit badges. It only had the plus sign of the Patriot Party embroidered in low contrast, where collar tabs would go.
He had two lieutenants of his command with him, dressed identically. The guards at the tunnel from the executive building, had passed them through the tunnel to the White House without a word. When the elevator came down their inside man from the kitchen was identically dressed, his work clothes in a small pile in the corner. The big gym bag he had was already open and he'd laid out armor on the floor for them in each corner,, so they had room to put it on as the elevator rose.
After they strapped on the vest they put on ballistic goggles. Helmets were just too bulky to smuggle in. Last on the bottom of the pile was a machine pistol and a web belt with a generous supply of extra magazines. They were even thoughtfully adjusted to their waist size, to avoid wasting time making them fit.
Someone had the foresight to not allow the convenience of an elevator going from the lower level bunkers, up past the Executive Office tunnel and connecting the Capital tunnel all the way to the Private Residence. That was OK, they had another conspirator waiting in the first floor of the White House, to call the other elevator down, just as they arrived from below and they'd hustle the four meters down the hall and switch elevators.
"You know this isn't a capture mission," Feldman reminded them. "I don't care if the bitch has her hands in the air, offering no resistance. We shoot Wiggen and scoot. The same for any witnesses. I want to be back in the executive tunnel in six minutes and in Maryland before midnight. We will all be at our duty stations and this crap," he said hefting his weapon, "will be on the bottom the Chesapeake when we wake up in the morning, to news of a coup. Remember to be surprised." He stopped lecturing and said a silent prayer.
The elevator came to a stop and they bent their knees ready to rush out the door. The door didn't open. There was no button to open it. There were no controls inside the car at all. Thad in the back corner had a fireman's door opener and he passed it forward to Feldman without a word. When the stainless door was wrenched back, it was a blank concrete wall facing them.
"Third floor, appliances, housewares, linens and domestic necessities," a voice from the ceiling couldn't resist mocking them. "Or were you gentleman looking for something else?"
When they said nothing he continued. "Colonel Feldman, you will find the gap to the wall is sufficient to allow you to discard your weapons into the elevator shaft. Once we have seen you follow those instructions, we'll drop you back to the tunnel level and you will be taken into custody. I should explain you can expect no rescue. You are four, of about eight hundred Party members already arrested tonight. Or not, as some have insisted on resisting. You have been allowed to play out your conspiracy fully, so there is no question of intent or entrapment."
Feldman jerked like he'd been slapped when he heard his name.
"Shit," Lieutenant Moore said. He pressed his machine pistol against the concrete and took his hand away. It was over four seconds before they heard the clatter of it echo up the shaft.
Feldman stared at him unbelieving for a moment, then fired a burst across his hips without a word. The action clattering, the impacts of the bullets and brass bouncing off the walls were louder than the muzzle. Moore was thrown back into the corner, a shocked look on his face.
"OK Einstein, add one more murder, to the laundry list of charges waiting for you. Fact is you don't get to surrender until you do the same as he did." The speaker said.
Feldman looked around the ceiling and there were two dark plastic hemispheres in opposite corners. He raised his weapon and destroyed both cameras.
"Well you can't fix stupid can you? I can't see, to know if you've dropped your weapons now. Given your attitude it would endanger my people to try to take you alive. I can drop your weapons down the shaft, but unfortunately you are going with them."
There was a metallic clack as the car came uncoupled from the cables. It wasn't really a zero G fall. The rails afforded some resistance, but the concrete shaft was a blur in the open door before they hit.
END
© 2012 M. Chandler
The Last Part - Other Kindle Books and Links by Mackey Chandler
April (first in series)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EOE2C
April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. She finds herself involved with intrigues that stretch her abilities after a chance run in with a spy. There is a terrible danger she and her friends and family will lose the only home she has ever known in orbit and be forced to live on the slum ball below. It's more than a teen should have to deal with. Fortunately she has a lot of smart friends and allies. It's a good thing because things get very rough and dicey.
The Middle of Nowhere (third in series)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Middle-Nowhere-April-ebook/dp/B00B1JJ7RQ
April returns home from her trip down to Earth, unhappy with what she accomplished. Papa-san Santos is finishing her rescue of the Lieutenants, Her traitorous brother is dead and so many things are uncertain. The Chinese and North Americans both continue to give her and Home a hard time. But April, Jeff and Heather are gathering allies and power. China, trying to steal Singh technology, gets its hand slapped badly by Jeff and the Patriot Party in America is damaged, but not gone. Their project on the moon is not so easy for North America to shut down, especially with the Russians helping. Heather proves able to defend it forcefully. They really didn't know she owns a cannon. The three have their own bank now, Home is growing and April is quickly growing up into a formidable young woman, worthy of her partners.
Paper or Plastic?
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004RCLW68
Roger was medically discharged after his service in the Pan Arabic Protectorate, cutting off his chosen career path early. He is living in rural Sitra Falls, Oregon trying to deal with hyper-vigilance and ease back into civilian life.
When an unusual looking young woman enters his favorite breakfast place he befriends her. Little does he know he'll kill for her before lunch and start an adventure that will take him around the world and off planet.
When you have every sort of alphabet agency human and alien hunting for you survival is the hard part. But you might as well get rich too.
Family Law
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS
You know people who love their dogs. They put them in their will. They forgo vacations to stay home and take care of them.
Can a dog love back or is it simple self interest? Affection or love? Unconditional or a meal-ticket? What if you dog could talk back? Would your dog be less lovable if he could tell you what he thinks like your spouse? If he complained his kibbles were dry and boring would your affection wear thin? I don't want to touch on what a cat might tell you...
Is the dog part of your family or property? Who should decide that for you? How much more complicated will it be if we meet really intelligent species not human?
Humans don't have a very good history of defending the interests of others. Even variations of their own species. How will they treat 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How will they treat us? Usually the people who answer these sort of questions have no desire to be on the pointy end of things. They are just minding their own business and it is thrust upon them. This story explores those questions
Common Ground and Other Stories
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0050YYVHY
A book size collection of seven short stories by Mackey Chandler.
Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2
Mac's Writing Blog: http://www.mackeychandler.com