Friends in the Stars
Mackey Chandler
Cover by Sarah Hoyt
Fifth book in the Family Law series
Friends in the Stars © 2019
Chapter 1
Lee was having breakfast on the balcony and enjoying the view, waiting for Eileen and Victor Foy to join her. The city was waking up, the traffic increasing and pedestrians visible along the nearby streets. Derfhome wasn’t like a big Earth city that stayed busy all night. The Old Hotel was only four stories high, with her suite on the top floor at the desirable north corner. That was one floor higher than most of the other buildings in the capital, at least in the old city. That meant she wasn’t surrounded by larger buildings cutting off the view. The capitol was spread out before her like an old-fashioned panoramic map and she liked that. She could see some new taller buildings dotting the ridge across the valley about six kilometers away. She had a friend in one of those towers and had enjoyed the view looking back across the old city from that side.
The balcony was at the north corner of the Hotel and she picked the west leg of the wrap around balcony to be served. The season was advanced far enough near summer that the day was warm enough to be comfortable already and she didn’t want to sit in the sun. If her guests joined her on the sunny side, somebody would end up squinting with the sun in their eyes. There was no sort of awning to let down. Lee made a mental note to look into getting one.
Lee didn’t need to live in a hotel, she was welcome at the Red Tree Keep. She and her step-dad Gordon were always given a guest room when they visited on business. They were family and clan so the Mothers would never think to charge them. However, she didn’t want to live there, or even too close, because there would be other costs. The clan Mothers would undoubtedly keep finding things for her to do and integrate her into the day to day life of the Keep until they took over her life bit by bit. Maintaining a little separation seemed like a good thing. She and Gordon both had considerable income off the discovery of a class-A habitable planet and more coming soon from other exploration. They could contribute to the clan and fund various projects off the interest without being in any danger of touching the principal.
With that level of income, living in a hotel wasn’t any significant expense. She had another condo home on Fargone she rarely used and intended to build a home on the living planet they’d discovered, Providence. Despite citizenship and homes on two planets, Lee wasn’t all that fond of them. She’d grown up on a family explorer ship and felt planets were nice places to visit occasionally. Especially planets full of too many people.
Lee didn’t wait for the Foys to arrive to start eating. That was just one of the little social graces she refused to take up from Humans. The Foys were Humans from California and had gone through a long and harrowing effort some years ago to abandon that place and immigrate to Home, the habitat at L2 out beyond Earth’s moon.
The Foys were still filling in details of that early adventure on Earth for Lee every time they visited her. It was a safer topic than their more recent life on Home and their eventual move to Central on the Moon. Besides Eileen being an ambassador and voice of her lunar sovereign to the Derf, they were allies of a sort now. They were assigned to Derfhome as more than a diplomatic mission, they were a military presence to protect it. They’d had opportunity to do so once already, diverting an unwelcome USNA ship to New Japan.
Too many things about their recent life were still secrets from people not sworn to their Sovereign Heather. That could make conversation awkward when the topic took a turn that ran up against something they couldn’t reveal. Old stories were a much safer area of conversation than recent events.
The sun behind the hotel illuminated the town below with a strong yellow tint while it was still low in the sky. The buildings were oriented all different ways, to gain a preferred exposure to the sun for one or the prevailing wind for another. The modern human habit of laying everything out in grids oriented to the compass points, as if the buildings existed for the benefit of the roads, never got started with the Derf. Instead, the lots tended to be laid out round, and Derf felt crowded much easier than Humans. The spaces between them were public right-of-ways and open to utilities. The ugly abomination of the utility pole never got started here.
The door chimed softly, and Lee checked the hall camera in her spex and told the house computer to let them in. “I’m out on the balcony, come on out,” Lee invited directly to their spex rather than use the house speakers. It was easier and she’d recently grown more aware it was possible to disturb the neighbors with too much noise. The hotel was a historic building and lacked some of the noise canceling ability of newer construction, but she still liked it. With Derf sized rooms and tall ceilings the place had character. It was a change from the cramped quarters necessary in ships and station.
The shower, for example, was Derf-sized, and a waste of space for her, but done in pre-Human contact marble with bronze controls that didn’t feel they had to apologize for the metal with chrome plating. However, the shower did have a pressure regulator added because it was designed to blast through the heaviest Derf coat to the skin. If accidentally started on the high setting Lee found the hard way that a Derf shower could knock her off her feet and leave a painful water jet abrasion. The doors were similarly wide to Derf-scale, like a palace, so what was a small home for Derf was open and spacious for her.
Lee heard her guests come out the other door and Vic say, “Where is she?”
“She must be around the corner on the shady side,” Eileen guessed. She looked around the corner and verified that before Lee could even call out to them.
“Make yourselves comfortable. Here’s the address to order breakfast,” Lee said and sent the link to their spex.
“Is there a menu?” Eileen wondered.
“If there is nobody ever offered it to me,” Lee said. “I just tell them what I want and, so far, they’ve been able to serve me. But then my tastes run to ship fare and Derf dishes. If you want some exotic Earth thing nobody has heard of they may not have it.”
“Like strawberries?” Eileen asked.
“Oh no, that’s no problem. Gordon has a big bowl of them with cream sometimes.”
Vic and Eileen ordered quietly and Lee didn’t strain to hear.
The tricuspoid shapes that predominated between the bigger properties were sometimes large enough for green spaces. Pushing your lot edge out, narrowing the road was severely frowned on. From the balcony Lee could see a few oddly shaped lots where two or three properties had merged, producing a lozenge or clover-leaf shaped lot. About a half kilometer away was the near edge of an open space with the least regular outline to be seen, a huge open-air market with scalloped edges where the tiny figures of merchants were still setting up booths and tables to sell this early in the day. Lee zoomed in with her spex to see the action, but they couldn’t resolve much at this distance. A good telescope to clamp on the handrail might be fun.
The fact that the roads weren’t laid out in grids had bothered Vic at first. One of his first questions when they first took a cab together in the city had been, “How do you know who has the right of way?” The pattern hadn’t been obvious to him and it seemed like a potential demolition derby with cars merging by rules not obvious to him.
“The vehicle coming from your left has the right of way. It’s simple. The driver’s seat is on the left so you can see the merging traffic on your side better. If you had to look over your right shoulder through the vehicle windows to see traffic that wasn’t going to yield to you it would be chaos and carnage,” Lee assured him.
“It’s like an endless chain of roundabouts,” Eileen said. “You have no straight through roads where you can relax a little. But I admit neither do you ever need to sit stopped waiting for cross traffic.”
“It’s near chaos,” Vic muttered.
“You mean traffic circles?” Lee asked, not sure of the other name for them. “I saw a few of those on Earth, and more in videos, but most of the time I was on Earth was in a very rural area. They only had a few right in town. It seems like you should know how they work then,” Lee said.
“In theory, needing to apply the theory in real time every few hundred meters is another matter. I never thought I’d miss expressways, but I’m starting to see their appeal. I think I’ll stick to something simple, like flying starships,” Eileen said.
Victor had quietly nodded agreement. As far as Lee knew the Foys still used the automated system in the city after being in residence for two months, instead of attempting manual control. The auto-cabs drove like old men, and traffic flowed around them, but they had a very good safety record.
“It’s pretty up here,” Vic said, taking the chair that let him see it better. Eileen was indifferent to the scenery and faced Lee squarely, back to the view. “I know we needed a higher level of security, even temporarily, but I can see why you’d live here. You have this great view and having a kitchen on call and housekeeping without all the hassle of hiring staff is convenient.”
“All the services in the hotel are nice,” Lee agreed, “but surely Heather gave you an allowance to run the embassy and will expect you to have staff. It’s not going to be coming out of your own pocket is it?” Lee asked.
“She did, but it’s the hassle of advertising and interviewing people when everything is finished on our building. I’m not looking forward to,” Vic explained.
“I wouldn’t even try,” Lee told him. “I’d ask the Mothers to send somebody to do it. It would be their job to fill the lesser positions.”
“We are already committed to having Red Tree supply our security force. We don’t know yet how much we’re committed to paying for that. They said their supervisor will get settled in during the construction to keep the site secure. Then, after he suggests to the Mothers what we need, we can discuss paying them to put it in place. How much do you think the Mothers would charge us for that kind of domestic help on top of security? Would they even want to lose another very useful person from their own service?” Vic wondered. “I’m nervous we’re putting all our eggs in one basket.”
“Red Tree Clan has a special relationship with you. I think maybe you don’t appreciate how special. You saw the plaque they gave Talker for the Badger embassy. I’m sure as soon as you move in they’ll provide the same public notice that you are under their protection. I realize you are here to protect the planet, the whole star system actually. But down here on Derfhome the Mothers’ protection has long-standing respect people won’t automatically extend to you. Most of the public have no idea what you are doing for us. The Mothers haven’t made a point of advertising why you are here.
“Very few would decide to mess with your building or people after seeing their sign. I doubt they would name a set wage for a supervisor in either security or housekeeping, because that’s a service in-kind given your duty to guard our system, but if you send a stipend to the Mothers for the managers they probably won’t turn it down. The clan is not so poor the Mothers feel compelled to put a price on every little act and service. They will probably feel free to name a wage to you for the other workers such as a janitor and groundskeeper. The Mothers will bargain on the set wages for the people they send to town to work on a fishing boat or a lumber mill, but they don’t have any special or even permanent relationship with Red Tree like you do.”
“So, the manager would probably use all Red Tree people?” Eileen asked. “They wouldn’t hire any townspeople?”
“Absolutely, how else could they control your security if they didn’t use people they have known since birth? They might hire an electrician or a plumber for a small repair instead of transporting somebody from the Keep, but a trusted person would watch over them from when they walked in the door until they left. As far as putting all your eggs in one basket, why would you fail to use the strongest basket you know will do the job?”
“That kind of security is almost impossible to have on Earth, and we only had it at Central by virtue of almost total isolation,” Eileen said.
“That kind of security might be possible in the Middle East on Earth, in an isolated and repressive tribal society under a warlord,” Vic said. “People don’t know each other in the western countries. In the cities, they often don’t know their next-door neighbors.”
“The Mothers are definitely tribal, and not afraid of war, but they’re really working on the repression part, and we’re trying to help them,” Lee said.
“It might seem ungrateful to characterize them as repressive, and yet take advantage of the benefits of their tight control,” Eileen gently suggested to Vic.
“Don’t worry that I’ll say anything,” Lee assured her. “I have a lot of things I’d like to see changed about Derf society, but I don’t want to start a civil war to do it.”
Lee had a sudden thought, furrowing her brow. “When you finish up all the interior work and can move into your embassy, you should ask for somebody who can drive for you. Then you won’t have to crawl along slowly in an auto-cab.”
“Perhaps they can even give me driving lessons,” Vic said, but seemed embarrassed.
“Where are all your things?” Lee wondered. “I remember you had a huge freight container you left in orbit when you had to go turn away that USNA ship.”
“We had it brought down a bit at a time and put it in storage. Lifting it in Lunar gravity was one thing, bringing it down to Derfhome in this gravity and atmosphere grappled to our ship is a trick I’d rather not attempt,” Eileen said. “The empty hull is parked up there with a bunch of other odds and ends that collect near any station.”
Lee seemed distracted for a moment with her spex, and announced, “Breakfast is here, your stuff and a second serving for me.”
The cart that eased out on the balcony was pushed by a Cinnamon Derf in the sort of green vest that hotel workers wore to identify themselves and provide pockets. Lee didn’t know this worker but assumed it was a female by her size. There was a cloth over the top, which was wise given the aggressiveness of the little native bird analogs.
“We can serve ourselves,” Lee assured her. “You’re new to me. Do you have a customary name?”
“I just started yesterday. Humans call me Cybil if it pleases you, Mistress.”
“I’m the First daughter of the Third love son of the Four Hundred-Seventy Third First Mother of Red Tree, by the Hero of the Chain Bound Lands, Second line of the short-haired folk, of Gordon - Lee Anderson,” Lee declared very formally. “But I am happy to be known as Lee to both Humans and Derf. I don’t need any titles please.”
“That will save some time,” Cybil quipped. That was nice she could crack funny about the length of traditional Derf names.
“Did you choose a customary name from a Human you admired?” Lee asked.
“Yes, there was a Cybill Green who produced a long-running video series in the last century of your… of Human history,” she corrected. “It featured all sorts of instruction for the gracious hostess to entertain and create an attractive tasteful home. It wasn’t aimed at the hospitality profession, but I intend to learn what I can at the hotel, and in the fullness of time apply my experience and the lessons I liked from my namesake to the sort of business Humans call a Bed and Breakfast.”
“You’re ambitious. I very much approve,” Lee said. “I don’t think anyone in Derfhome has opened an establishment on that business model. Call on me when you reach the point of actually doing it if you need investors.”
“Thank you, it will be some time, but I’ll remember,” Cybill promised, and withdrew.
“Town Derf?” Eileen asked when Cybill was gone safely out of hearing. Derf hear better than most Humans as Eileen had learned early on.
“Oh my yes,” Lee agreed. “Either she left a clan early or is town born. She would never have had access to a reader or old Human videos living in a Clan Keep. They control technology tightly and keep their people far away from any distractions that might slow down their work. Keep Derf have no aspirations of owning their own business. The whole idea is foreign to them. If they want that sort of life they have to strike out on their own by going to town. Gordon told me he never had any money, not even pocket change until he walked away and went to town to make his own way. It’s only recently the Mothers have given very small monetary rewards for exceptional service. There still aren’t any regular wages.”
Vic cocked his head at her and lifted an eyebrow. “And yet, he’s welcome back at the Clan now, and treated very well.”
It wasn’t a question, but his tone made it one.
“The Mothers are controlling, but they aren’t stupid enough to slam the door in the face of a millionaire who has volunteered to send funds home, just as if they’d sent him to town to work in a tannery or a glass making shop. The English expression I heard used was to cut off your nose to spite your face. They’d look stupid to do that after he proved he had more value to them exploring than making barrels and furniture the rest of his life. If they were critical of his decision he’d have cut his donations off. He wanted a good relationship but wasn’t desperate enough for it to take abuse.”
“There was a time or two when I wished I knew how to make a decent barrel,” Vic mused. “It has to be near a lost art on Earth, except maybe among the Amish or Mennonites who do a lot of things the old-fashioned way.”
“Ask Gordon,” Lee suggested, amused. “I bet he remembers how.”
The breakfast cart was parked between Lee and Eileen, its back to the rail. Eileen had the cloth folded back opening the side to them and was setting some things in front of Vic, who was beyond reaching them.
There were three little fliers, smaller than one’s hand, perched on the rail, watching every move greedily, but much too cautious to try to snatch anything.
“Please don’t feed them,” Lee asked when she saw Vic looking at them. “They grow bolder and are pests if you encourage them.”
“One might say the same of a number of people,” Vic mused. He piled a generous portion of eggs and potatoes on his plate. Eileen took the rest which was near as much.
“But not out loud, in polite company,” Eileen cautioned him.
“Please don’t count on me being polite,” Lee warned them, “not in anybody’s company. I know bits and pieces of four cultures and still am not comfortable in any of them, maybe least of all with Humans. They all seem to require some things be unsaid.”
“I do see the value in brutal honesty,” Eileen allowed. “Sometimes you don’t have time to pitch everything in gentle phrases. I’ve experience of the same quality in Jeff. Surely you got a hint of that when you met him on the Moon?”
“I did, both the way he spoke as one of Heather’s peers, and the little bits and pieces of conversation about him,” Lee said. “Even when people were being snide about his lack of social graces, I just heard that he was honest instead of trying to soften his message. I suspect he has found the same thing I have, that people hear what they want you to say, so if you soften your message it ruins your effort to communicate. It’s no favor to confuse people about what your real intentions are by gentle words.”
“No, and there’s little danger of that with Singh,” Victor said, smiling.
“Have you had any news from the Moon or Earth I’d find interesting?” Lee asked.
Eileen and Victor looked at each other. Victor with a bland poker face, and Eileen with the slight worry of knowing Victor might say anything outrageous.
“Come on now,” Lee chided them, waving her fork at them. “I didn’t ask any military secrets. You could have had news sent by perfectly normal means such as regular ship mail or piggybacked on a commercial drone from Fargone. You have to be in some kind of communication with Central. I’ve seen how your ships and jump drones work, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you have passing central vessels drop off a drone out-system and let it jump in to send you a message.
“I’d be surprised if even you guys can trust a drone to make multiple jumps from as far away as Earth. You may have better drives, but you’d have to have much better Artificial Stupids to pilot them so far, and I haven’t seen any indication you are much further ahead of everybody else in computers and programming.”
“We’ve tried,” Eileen assured her. “We’ll use an Artificial Intelligence as a convenience on a manned ship. But like an autopilot on an aircraft, it needs a human backup for when it suddenly decides to be an Artificial Stupid. If you send expensive craft off unsupervised the losses are still too high.
“Indeed, for all his success with other systems, Jeff doesn’t seem to have much talent for computers. I wish we did have a really brilliant computer person. The three have mentioned recruiting such a person from time to time. As for software, Jeff tried to create an improved AI that followed a decision tree which seemed logical to him,” Victor said. He then just rolled his eyes. He seemed to do that a lot, make statements and expect you to deduce the conclusion as if it were obvious.
“It didn’t work out so hot?” Lee asked, forcing him to detail the end of the story.
“It quickly became paranoid. Towards the end, when its learning algorithms had a chance to reinforce themselves by looping repeatedly, it would only answer questions with other questions,” Vic said.
“If he created it to emulate his own pattern of thinking, my question then would be not why it went nuts,” Lee said, “but why does Jeff stay sane?”
“He programmed too much of that brutal honesty you admire in it,” Eileen said. “Artificial intelligences, just like biological children, should be sheltered from the worst qualities of reality until they have enough experience of life to not be shattered by the realization it doesn’t make any sense and there often aren’t any solutions.”
Lee thought on that while she ate and applied it to herself. “I was thirteen when my parents were killed,” she finally said. “Well, shy a week or two, as close as you could log by adding up all the flight times with relativistic corrections. Sometimes when we came back to civilization our clock was off a few minutes from the best local universal time.
“The experience in the camp that night was pretty rough for anyone. I had nightmares and crying jags for months. If I’d had that dumped on me when I was three or four years younger, I don’t know what it would have done to me, nothing good. It might have broken me beyond what time and Gordon could heal.
“Of course, some of that was how they died. Gordon never did let me see their bodies. I didn’t figure out how and why he was sheltering me until later, but he saw the need. One assumes he’d have done the same for a Derf child. At the time I never considered how horrible it must have been for Gordon too. It was traumatic enough to have the little dinosaur analogs trying to eat me, even if my folks had survived. I was zipped up in my sleeping bag that had a very tough ballistic cloth shell. I couldn’t see anything of course.
“I was in the bag with no light on in the tent. I did have the sense not to look out. I’d just feel the jaws gnawing away trying to get a grip to get through the cloth. They were mute and the only sound was from what they were doing. I’d stick my pistol against the shape trying to gnaw through the bag and shoot him in the head,” Lee said, illustrating it with her first finger and cocked thumb.
“After a while, there was such a pile of them around me the new ones had a hard time getting past the dead ones to reach the bag, but I thought I was going to be smothered under the pile of dead dinos, and they didn’t smell very good.”
“And this is a class A planet for colonization?” Vic asked. “I don’t think I’d care to try to homestead where you have to deal with herds of carnivores like that.”
“They aren’t so bad,” Lee said. “I get general reports about how the planet is being developed beside specific financial reports for my shares. Gordon is no dummy, and he was right on the money predicting they can’t swim for anything. They sometimes have to cross some streams when hunting gets bad and they need to migrate. If they try to cross too far down the course of a stream they can lose a substantial part of the herd from stepping off a ledge or in a pothole and drowning. If the current knocks them over they aren’t very good at getting back vertical before they drown.
“We had this figured out enough that I picked a large island as one of my personal claims, knowing the dinos couldn’t swim there from the main continent. That’s the property I’m letting Red Tree have to expand off-planet, although I’m retaining rights to use it myself and have a private residence.
“Also, the dinos only hunt when they have digested the last hunt and fasted some days in cold-blooded mode. Then their metabolism kicks into gear and they turn warm- blooded to hunt. That’s why we didn’t see them in a drone survey. We saw other warm-blooded predators and assumed everything would be the same. We’d have been safe if we’d set up camp on a small island instead of putting up an electric fence, but who knew?” Lee said. “Now, they know if you want to keep them out a moat works just fine. When they camp to digest the last hunt they pick an open spot where the sun will reach and pile up in a big heap about fifty meters across. It doesn’t seem to bother the bottom ones to have two or three others piled on top.
“They have decent satellite coverage on Providence now, so if the colonists see a big group trending their way, they won’t let them get closer than twenty or thirty kilometers away. They’ll let them mound up after a feeding and send out a plane with a single cluster bomb. Boom… that takes care of the whole mob.
“Gordon was right about that too. He said in a few years they’d have to make a sanctuary for them if they wanted any to survive because that’s always how it goes for anything that threatens man or his livestock.”
“Thank you for that story,” Vic said, “it helps me understand who you are, and how you came to have your views and responses.”
“And yet, we once again got into a long discussion about me, and you manage not to answer the question I put to you,” Lee said. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“We do get special reports, pretty much the way you guessed,” Eileen admitted when pressed. “If something is important enough to have a ship detour instead of sending it by slow mail. There’s not much worth doing that, and for sure they haven’t felt the need to send a special ship just to deliver news yet, only a few that were passing by anyway.”
“And… what is happening on Earth?” Lee demanded.
“They take forever to decide anything,” Eileen said disgusted. “I grew up watching how that worked, but then when we moved to Central it was a shock to see Heather would put out a proposal, ask for statements and studies with a deadline of weeks not years, then conference and make major decisions in a few days.
“The major powers have flip-flopped and decided they do have to accept mining and planetary claims without any limits for distance. It makes them look stupid after they turned Lee’s Little Fleet and the aliens away from filing claims, but the public outcry and panic gave them little choice. To do otherwise would threaten to collapse their economy. They immediately had a mini-panic in the markets as soon as they let the public know they would set any limits to the claims they would administer.
They had to rescind it even though it would take years to see any real damage to their economy. That was just the immediate panic response of people before there was any real change in supply. The public was better at taking the long-term view than the officials in this instance. I had my doubts, but the people at Central have convinced me the Earthies can’t effectively administer really deep claims with their present drive limitations. So the whole point is really moot. How long it will take them to learn that by trying and failing is another interesting question. It’s similar to the problems Britain faced trying to administer India when communication was still by ocean vessel.”
“You can’t really,” Lee insisted. “I agree with Heather there. You can set basic policy and give your administrator broad powers to act for you. If they aren’t free to act they will be forced to do something stupid because central planning can never foresee every possibility. They will tie their hands because they never really trust their own people.”
“That’s the only way Earth governments work right now,” Eileen insisted. “They all turned to central control once they had good radio and satellites after the first atomic war. It’s been how they have run things for a century now, and they’ve seemed unable to ease up on that control since they’ve gotten out beyond the speed of light lag to Luna where it really doesn’t work anymore. Right now, they are basically trying to decide who to publicly blame for turning away the claims you came to present for yourselves and the Badgers. The smaller countries who withdrew their ships are going to be cut off from any revenue sharing for sure.”
“That ship has lifted,” Lee insisted. “They can announce they will accept claims again, but who would trust them now? We certainly won’t offer a claim again. My bank lady, Sally, is back from Earth now and has as much investor interest as we want to bring in. She’s going over the work her people and I did in her absence to create the forms and agency to deal with multiple races. We need uniform documents that everybody can agree with what they mean and can accept the terms. That means Humans, Derf, Badgers, and Bills. It’s probably going to need to be done all over again if the other minor races in the Badger civilization come onboard. We are very near ready to being open for business to register and administer our own claims. Like you just said, even if we changed our minds and were wooed to meekly go back to register our claims in their claims system, it’s near to breaking down fairly soon anyway,” Lee said. “We don’t need them now.”
“Yes, you know that, and we know that,” Eileen agreed, “but after they plant the blame firmly on the smaller nations that precipitated the crisis, they will then move to try to rescind their decision. They will try to demand by force what has always worked because it was voluntary. That is when it may get ugly. We don’t really know how long it will take them to stop talking and act more decisively than the one silly obsolete ship they sent here. That was just a quick probe to test if Heather really meant her declaration that she’d protect Derfhome.”
“I suspect when they see they can’t send a fleet here to intimidate us they will try to use trade sanctions to pressure us,” Lee said. “That won’t work either. We can get tech and medicines from Fargone or New Japan that are as good or better than Earth goods. About all they can cut off are luxury goods. It will hurt them as badly as us. About the only thing I can think of we get from Earth that’s hard to replace cheaply is iodine.”
“Just import kelp to cultivate,” Eileen suggested, “it bio-concentrates iodine even from very dilute seawater if Derfhome doesn’t have any natural brines rich in it.”
“They can cut off the video dramas,” Vic threatened. “You’ll never know if Marge got back together with Ken, or that evil Megan stole his heart away.”
“Oh, the horror,” Lee exclaimed. “At least we’ll never miss the ending, because those tear-jerker serials never really end. When Gordon was trying to teach me about Human society, I briefly tried watching some of those vids. You can imagine how messed up some of the ideas were that they gave me about how real people actually live.”
“They will get a temporary economic boost by blaming all the little fellows,” Vic said, “They’ll use it as an excuse to cut off all the share payments to the minor space nations, and the claim shares to the non-space states that were basically welfare. The shame is, as Eileen said, that those smaller nations were mostly right. It is too far to control remotely unless they develop a much better drive.”
“I hope not,” Lee said. “I really think that would make interstellar war and piracy possible. That would overshadow all the benefits.”
“Certainly, Heather thinks Central would get the worst of that, being out-numbered so badly. Or she wouldn’t have sought a preemptive pact with you to keep gravitational jump tech secret,” Eileen agreed.
“I suddenly see a different aspect of it I haven’t seen anybody consider,” Vic said.
Eileen perked up, because this wasn’t anything they’d discussed.
“Not even your Sovereign or her peers?” Lee asked.
“No, not unless they saw it but never see fit to discuss it with us. Heather is methodically smart, and Jeff assembles bit and pieces of things to make a new whole. April is one of those thinkers who suddenly drops a new idea on you that doesn’t seem like it would be anything she would know or even be considering. She’s like the person lecturing who writes something on the screen and then draws a line and says – therefore – skipping so many steps you have no idea how she got there, so it wouldn’t surprise me if any of them followed the same line of thought I just had. I’ll have to run the idea past them when I get a chance, but nobody seems to be applying the law of supply and demand to the situation in which we find ourselves.”
“Indeed, I think I’m stuck on the wrong side of that therefore from you,” Lee admitted. “How are you applying it to interstellar economics?”
“Earth has always had an interstellar market of scarcity,” Vic said, scrunching his eyebrows up and looking serious. “They’ve always been able to readily absorb all the new materials and new biologicals, and they have always had buyers for the land and rights on new worlds, especially any living worlds. You didn’t destroy that with your new findings from the voyage of the Little Fleet, because your discoveries are so far away it keeps their price up.”
“Yes, I follow you and agree, so far,” Lee said.
“Now you’ve sent Thor off with the main elements of the Little Fleet and a Fargone destroyer for escort duty again. That’s public knowledge, right?” Vic asked.
“Yes. It was all done publicly. I suppose you may wonder why I’m here and didn’t go back out with them,” Lee said. “That’s no secret even if I didn’t publicize it. It was to stay here and work with my bank to set up our organization to replace the Earth Claims Commission. It was my idea and there was no way I could just dump it on somebody else. I was very busy with that and waiting on Sally to return from Earth with new investors and partners. I sent the fleet back out primarily to preserve the talent pool or they would have all dispersed in a hundred directions.
“Frankly, a lot of them wanted to cash out their shares but when the Claims Commission rejected us it put off their pay indefinitely. The Commission had the ability to start paying you immediately. It was backed by big Earth nations that could print their currencies at need in anticipation of the wealth flowing in. None of the space powers run on fiat money or allow deficit spending. We are creating a market in shares but sending a big chunk of our best people back out gave us some time to create a liquid market in their shares. Even though the Earth Claims Commission doesn’t want the job, I still expect Earth investors to buy a lot of the shares for sale. Earth investors will still be buying a lot of the rights, just by a more roundabout way than the Commission.”
“All that is as smart as can be,” Vic said, with a nod of the head acknowledging her. “You should have a handle on it before the fleet returns with even more claims and discoveries. But let me ask you a question. Why aren’t you selling any of those mining claims or worlds to Heather or her partners?”
Lee looked at him like he was daft. “They have a better drive. Unlike Earth, they can go get their own resources and worlds far easier than us.”
It was stating the obvious.
“Well, my young friend, if you get a fast drive of your own all these expensive to reach resources are going to suddenly be closer and cheaper. That means by the immutable laws of economics there is going to be a glut on the market and prices will crash. If you send out a third exploration fleet with a fast drive the shareholders won’t automatically all be millionaires on their return.
“On the plus side, if they want their own worlds or materials to use rather than sell, they are going to be able to afford them. There should be a surge of all sorts of new business. The sticky part is going to be that Earth will still need a lot of resources, but if they don’t have their own fast ships they are going to be at your mercy for supply. They however, will have little you want to buy to balance that trade. You might start thinking about how you are going to handle that problem.
“It would be nice to frame a solution that doesn’t leave nine or ten billion pissed off Earthies hating your guts. You might think on it that The Three have not flooded Earth with cheap materials. I don’t know their long-range plans, they don’t discuss policy with people at my pay grade, but they have had longer to think on it than you. If I were you next time you chat with The Three I’d consider asking for their advice on avoiding economic disruptions from your discoveries.”
“This isn’t something they told you to feed me?” Lee asked.
“No, I just had the thoughts all come together sitting here. I’m not offering any solutions, because I haven’t thought that far ahead. How goes your drive research anyway?” Vic asked. “You are still pursuing it?”
“As long as you have secrets you keep, I believe I’ll keep some of my own,” Lee said. “I’ll certainly think on that idea though. Do you have some other safe tidbits of news or gossip we are both free to talk about?”
“There was an interesting news item about Home,” Vic remembered. “It had the Earthies all riled up. Two European industrialists hated each other so much they both agreed to travel to Home. Since it has been established foreigners have the right of the duel they could legally have it out with each other there. They didn’t waste any time upon arrival and went straight to the north industrial corridors and had it out with pistols. The Earth news condemned Homies as barbarians and murderous scum, even though neither of the duelists were Home citizens.
“They made no secret of their plans, so a European court passed a law while they were still in transit, which would allow them to charge their citizens for assault and murder committed in jurisdictions that had laws at variance with their standards.”
“What a mess that would be,” Lee said. “The survivor might never be able to go home, and neither sounds like somebody Home would want.”
“Fortunately, the duelists agreed on autoloaders with large magazines, and though neither had any previous experience or skill, they still managed to kill each other,” Vic said. “I love a happy ending.”
Eileen looked like she might scold Vic for that, but when she looked back and forth between them and saw Lee wasn’t horrified, she just rolled her eyes.
Lee shared a couple of amusing stories and news about her ship nearing completion. And the Foys made polite noises about her vastly inferior ship. She didn’t use it as an opportunity to complain that they weren’t sharing their drive tech. After all, that policy was set by their sovereign, not them.
“About trusting your agents,” Lee said, after thinking on the earlier conversation a bit. “I assume Heather hasn’t made the same mistake she sees Earth doing of micro-managing, but rather has given you very loose instructions so you can use your own judgment and initiative in dealing with the Mothers and defending Derfhome.”
“Heather gives such sketchy instructions I’d actually be happy with far more detailed orders,” Eileen admitted, “but we have a pretty simple assignment here. Who is going to bother you but the Claims Commission? That pretty much means a Chinese or North American ship now. The smaller nations still left in the pact wouldn’t be trusted to act for the Commission by the senior members. New Japan or Fargone aren’t about to attack you, so what could possibly happen that isn’t a no-brainer?”
“There are those alien ships Heather showed us a video of, attacking the North Americans. They may suicide rather than be captured, but they were very aggressive before they were defeated. The Earthies may encounter those aliens again or others. If they provoke them, all Humans may be seen as enemies. Apparently, there are more aliens out there than we thought. If an alien ship or an alien fleet shows up here and their intentions are unclear how will you act?” Lee wondered.
Eileen looked horrified. “You’re just worried I might have a peaceful night’s sleep, aren’t you? Now I’m going to have to run all kinds of screwball scenarios through my head until I have a set of responses ready for anything I can imagine.”
“That’s good,” Lee said, satisfied. “That’s exactly how Gordon became such a fantastic tactician. He sat all the quiet hours when nothing was happening on the bridge just thinking, and gamed every conceivable situation in his mind, over and over. So it will be to your great benefit.”
Oddly, Eileen didn’t thank her.
Chapter 2
“I can’t believe you just asked Lee straight out if she was still working on a gravitational drive,” Eileen said. “That had no subtlety at all. Of course she is still working on it. You might as well have asked if she planned to keep breathing.”
“Subtlety is lost and wasted on that girl,” Vic insisted. “She appreciates it about as much as a certain girl who practically roped and branded me at the autumn get together,” Vic said. “The subtlety was in asking if she was pursuing it instead of asking how it was going. She could have been tempted to answer yes without elaborating. What would that have harmed to answer since it’s so obvious? But once you get someone to answer anything, even a very obvious question yes or no, it opens the door in their mind a little bit to get them to consider answering other less obvious things.”
“That’s not subtle, that’s just pretending to be obtuse,” Eileen objected.
“Then you have not been observing Heather closely enough,” Vic said, refusing to take offense. “I’ve seen her use that as an interrogation technique several times. She said she learned it from that Swiss fellow who came to Home, Jan.”
“Hmm… maybe,” Eileen allowed, “but it didn’t work, did it?”
“No, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. It will bother her every time she has to turn us down. She would rather be friendly and open if she could be, unlike her father Gordon who is just naturally secretive.”
“You think?” Eileen asked.
Vic just looked at her.
“You could have shared that economic idea with me first,” Eileen complained.
“Everybody benefits from an open exchange of that sort of thing,” Vic said. “She may punch holes in my ideas, and we’ll benefit from her doing so. And by we, I mean Central and even the Earthies in the long run if it contributes to stability.”
“I believe Lee is a person of her word,” Eileen said, after a long silent pause in which she’d had time to mull it over in her own mind. She’d obviously been thinking on it quite deeply and reported her conclusion in a serious voice. “If she does find out the secret of Jeff’s drive system like Heather expects will happen soon, it will complicate our lives, and everybody under Heather’s rule, but it wouldn’t be the unmitigated disaster that the Earthies getting it would be.”
Vic looked at her amused.
“What? I hate it when you get all smug.”
“You gave it so much thought, but only within certain comfortable boundaries,” Victor accused her. “What if they find a better drive?”
Eileen looked stricken. That wasn’t going to help her sleep any better either.
* * *
“It’s beautiful,” Gordon said looking out the front ports of the yard scooter at Lee’s new ship. They were squeezed into a two-man scooter which meant one Derf, and one Human willing to be very, very friendly with him, and still be squished against the hull. “It still bothers me it carries the two X-head missiles externally instead of in tubes. I know that would increase your internal volume an easy ten percent, but it lacks subtlety to have them stuck out there in everybody’s face.”
“Says the guy who will dress up all fancy, then hang a big ax on front of it all.”
“Well, the hardpoints are recessed in a bit of a groove, and on opposite sides so you only see one at a time. Are you going to take her back to Fargone to get them mounted after all the interior work and subsystems are done? I doubt they will send them as freight. They tend to be pretty controlling about the current generation missile. If somebody managed to snatch one to reverse engineer, it would be a disaster.”
“The Deep Space Cruiser Quantum Queer will deliver them while making a friendly port call. We just have to let them know when the weapons control systems are finished and the New Japan installers have gone home. They didn’t want to mount them to a dead ship, unable to launch them, and I think they were miffed they didn’t get the bid for that system. Theirs was good but not as good as the one New Japan could offer. There’s a lot of other work on furnishings for the Derf cabins and accommodations I’d rather not interrupt. It was ferried over with absolute minimum functional systems to make a jump and an escort in case they had troubles. It didn’t even have running environmental systems, just a portable air pack on the bridge.”
“The manufacturer couldn’t deliver them on a civilian vessel, not even under guard?” That seemed odd to Gordon. “Will they pay the Fargone navy to deliver them?”
“They mentioned it was a condition of an export license to have secure delivery so they may have had to pay. They didn’t tell me their internal arrangements.”
Gordon’s continued thoughtful silence worried Lee. “We will have some security of our own on the delivery process,” Lee promised. “I’ll request it of the Mothers.”
“That would make me feel much better. Have you told the Foys to expect a Fargone warship?” Gordon asked.
“Indeed, I had them to a pleasant breakfast this morning, and that was one of the few things of substance exchanged. They did say the Earthies are still bickering internally over who to blame for snubbing both us and the first real alien star-spanning civilization found. They intimated they still expect them to try to weasel out of their earlier rejection of our deep space claims. It just takes them forever to decide what to do. I read an interesting folk saying the other day that seems to apply. It said, ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth.’ I have no idea why my parents never used that expression. They used plenty of other idioms and folksy expressions.”
“Phrases wane and grow in cycles,” Gordon said. “They sometimes die out completely or reoccur when a new generation that has never heard them finds one fresh and starts using it again. Learning English I once found an entire book devoted to them, and some were truly strange. I remember some that seem lost permanently. That’s the bee’s knees, or, Tell it to Sweeny, come to mind. You can look in old newspaper records or flat movies and you have no idea what they are talking about when they use a phrase like that and you have no context.”
“Do Derf do the same thing?” Lee wondered.
“Slowly,” Gordon admitted. “Most written records until very recently involved the Mothers, and they have been a force for stability in language just like everything else. With the rise in the influence of trade towns that may change.
“You know,” he said, changing the subject, “it almost looks like an atmospheric lander with the big flat panels sticking out on each side like real wings.”
“I wish we could carry a lander. We just don’t have the tech to do it without killing the performance. A lander doesn’t really make sense until you get to something as big as the Retribution. Even the Sharp Claws can’t really haul a lander around without slowing it down, and speed is the whole point of this design. When we were talking about how to get a more powerful radar on a smaller ship, the design people started with the assumption we’d mount the elements on fold-out wings. That created all sorts of potential failure points and added mass with limited benefit.
“It couldn’t be made to work extended under heavy acceleration, and it was a nightmare of bracing and rigging to make secure folded down against the hull. Plus, you couldn’t get to various things it would cover up on the hull. A lander grappled on anywhere would just make it worse.
“When they started talking about mounting them with explosive bolts, so you could blow them off if they jammed up, that’s when I killed the idea.
“The fixed wings are hollow with cross braces inside and fuel modules right under the skin for access. The emitting elements of the radar are on the opposite face from the fuel modules. After everything was hooked up inside, it was all filled with open cell Buckey stiffener. Fixed wings instead of folding are simpler, so there’s much less there to go wrong,” Lee said.
“You’ll have to turn it edge on to make a very close transit of a star,” Gordon said.
“Even then, the side toward the star would heat up excessively if the star fills a very wide angle of the sky,” Lee said. “They decided to do the opposite and make the side with the fuel modules that you can’t see from here as reflective as possible. You turn that side toward the star. The radar side is the deepest possible black optimized to shed thermal radiation for cooling. That gives the ship her name, Kurofune, which is black ship in Japanese.”
The name implied a lot more, but if Gordon knew he didn’t comment.
“That’s a lot of surface area,” Gordon said, appraising it.
“I’ll have as much radiant power available as a heavy cruiser,” Lee said, answering the unasked, but implied question.
“That’s good,” Gordon said, thinking and nodding. “Nobody has a vessel in service with this kind of radiant power unless it is a cruiser or bigger. If they see you using this big of a radar rig they are going to assume you are a big warship with a dozen missiles in a magazine and beam weapons. For a long time, it may make people very reluctant to get close enough to actually find out what class of vessel you are. I expect that to stay the case for a while too. I don’t see anybody else building such a specialized ship.”
“Now if I could just get the sort of devices Central has to compensate for acceleration. I experienced that system in Gabriel’s ship when he gave me a ride. It’s a framework that folds down over the seat and only works in that small area. It’s not as big a deal as their drive system, but it still improves your acceleration significantly.”
“If they can reverse engineer that Badger gravity plate the Little Fleet brought back, that the Caterpillars modified for us, we might be able to make such a thing. They took it on some acceleration runs while it was operating and it no longer displays the increased momentum the Badger version did. Right now, they are trying to figure out what material the Caterpillars substituted in the working disk by X-ray diffraction, neutron scattering, and modulated laser reflection.
“Even then, they might not know why it doesn’t display increased momentum until some brilliant person advances a new theory. The Badgers are just as eager to know as us since they discovered it by serendipity.
“I won’t OK any destructive testing, and most of the team still agrees with me on that. Just a couple of them were eager to cut a chunk off to analyze. We very reluctantly wiped the disk at low pressure with a piece of diamond, and got enough transfer to get a materials list and isotopic concentrations, but if it depends on doping with very small amounts of something to work, or if it is different in the interior than the surface that won’t tell us much.”
“Even if you don’t see any breakthrough from the data collected, could you share it with my guys working on the drive tech at the university?” Lee asked.
“As long as they share back anything they figure out using the data,” Gordon agreed.
“Of course, that’s fleet property,” Lee agreed. “We’d only use it for drive tech. Any application to modifying local fields is yours and we’d have to reveal our findings and pay to use it toward those ends.”
“I’ll tell them to share it then,” Gordon agreed.
“Are you willing to command a test flight?” Lee asked, nodding at the ship.
“I half expected you to ask me to sign your ticket so you could do it,” Gordon said.
“I finally know enough to know I’m not ready,” Lee said. “I’d have to present it to each one of the crew as a disclaimer so they could withdraw without prejudice if they didn’t want to serve under such a young captain. I’d rather wait until I don’t have to do that. I’d feel terrible if anybody took me up on it and withdrew. It would taint the whole event for me.”
“At some point, you will be aware and confident that you are capable, and you’ll just have to take command without apology. Now that you’ve started Life Extension Therapy you aren’t going to look older as fast as you should to some,” Gordon reminded her. “They may be used to that at Central and Home, and the Fargoers won’t be put off, but Humans on Derfhome won’t become accustomed to it for years after we introduce it.”
“I’m not used to the idea,” Lee admitted. “We had a majority of Fargoers for crew in the Little Fleet. I’ll just hire Fargoers and Derf. Most Derf don’t have any preconceptions about what is appropriate for my age anyhow. Very few have lived around Humans for years like you to judge. It’s temporary anyway. With life-extension, I’ll still be around when the Derfhome humans get used to people looking young.”
Lee wiggled a bit, uncomfortable.
“Do you have a destination in mind for the maiden flight?” Gordon asked.
“I kind of was thinking Providence,” Lee said. “The Mothers have a survey team there looking at sites for a keep on land I ceded them, and I might piggy-back on their work to pick a home site.”
Gordon didn’t say anything, tried to merely look interested, and failed.
“And yes, I can deal emotionally with going there again,” Lee assured him.
“Let’s go back to the station,” Gordon said, ignoring Lee’s response to the question he hadn’t asked out loud. “I’m jamming you into the hull even trying to lean away. They don’t have a decent two Derf scooter. There just isn’t a big enough market.”
“Yet,” Lee said.
“Of course,” Gordon agreed.
* * *
“There are riots in Pakistan,” Jeff said, not looking up from his reader.
“I’d have to look into it, but somehow I imagine there have been riots in Pakistan numerous times before,” Heather said. “How are these different or important to us?”
“This time it’s happening due to the Claims Commission subsidy being cut. Their government has had to impose austerity measures. Telecommunication charges have been raised, the surcharges for small credit purchases has been raised. This time the cost of bread and cooking oil have been jacked up too,” Jeff said.
“Surely other non-space powers are feeling the pinch too,” Heather said.
“Yes, but Pakistan already had internal political problems and the opposing factions used the loss of the subsidy as a weapon, blaming each other. There is no clear majority party in power and everybody is pointing fingers at others for refusing to meet the Commission’s standards to receive the subsidy. They could have joined an association to sponsor a ship, but all the associations available to them were filled with traditional enemies or opposing styles of government. They would cut their own throats before they would partner a ship and crew with India and Sri Lanka. Now the groups that had a ship share have all withdrawn from the Commission because they won’t support sending them off on a multi-year voyage. Pakistan would have to go it alone to get back in the game,” Jeff said.
“And they can’t afford to do that?” Heather asked.
“On paper, they look like they could,” Jeff said. “That’s why the Commission won’t give them the freebie. They tightened things up so that besides some small islands, only Lichtenstein, Monaco and East Timor got the full subsidy. Pakistan could probably qualify if their economic reporting was accurate, but their official numbers have been a fantasy for decades. Making them accurate would cause more chaos than losing the subsidy. Even their population numbers are off by at least a third if you look at how many cell phones are registered.”
“Sounds to me like Pakistan is just first and other countries will have problems with the loss of Commission money,” April said, finally joining the conversation.
“Likely,” Jeff agreed. “I suspect a lot of the ships on the registry were hangar queens, and not really fit to leave Earth orbit. They were just built to qualify for full membership and then never updated or maintained. From my viewpoint, the Claims Commission has lasted a long time. How many other Earth pacts or treaties have lasted seventy years without being done away with or altered beyond recognition?
“It’s been ninety years since we agreed to allow exploration ships with limited arms passage beyond L1. It’s been seventy years since they found the Elves world and at least knew they would find some living worlds, even if the first was occupied.
“That’s what really triggered them to form the Commission,” Jeff said.
“Yes, they could see there were going to be living worlds worth fighting over and stealing. I’m still shocked they had the sense to not waste the majority of their new wealth on protecting their discoveries. On the plus side, that means the Earthies have a few dozen ships on the registry that can’t really be any threat to us,” April said.
“True,” Jeff said, “But they could use them as expendable game pieces, just like the one they pulled out of mothballs to test us at Derfhome.”
* * *
“Oh, Sweet!” Born called out.
“They put candied bacon back on the faculty lounge menu?” Musical quipped. He didn’t look up from his screen. Born tended to gush over minor matters. Neither was he being racist. Badgers liked their treats sweet about the same as Derf.
“Sweeter than that. Our patron has somehow managed to obtain the current research data for the gravity plate the Little Fleet got back from the Caterpillars.”
“I thought they were hung up because the majority didn’t want to dismantle the thing and cut up the active disk to find out what makes it tick?” Musical said.
“I suspect that even if the majority wanted to hack it to pieces and Gordon wished to continue with non-destructive testing it would remain untouched,” Born said.
“You’re right about that,” Musical said. “My own supervisor has made plain that Gordon’s management style is to politely suggest this and that, and then if you are too dense to find some path to accommodate his suggestions, he proceeds to what the Humans call ‘knocking heads together’. The idiom isn’t supposed to be literal, but I get a mental image of those lower arms doing just that far too easily. You might say Gordon is effectively a majority of one.”
“And he might be right,” Born allowed. “They’ve got more data than I’d have expected going the slow and cautious route. I’m sending it over to your inside machine.” Meaning the one that had no outside network connections. They followed an odd mix of security, air gapping their computer but leaving the door unlocked to go to the restroom.
Musical switched his attention to that screen and reading the list of tests and theories advanced Born sent him, the other screen abandoned for now.
Born, who was a bit ahead of him called out rather than text, “Go to line 39062. They took a diamond wipe and got a list of elements and isotopic concentrations.”
“Ummm… they didn’t get enough transfer to see the gross structure,” Musical complained. “They have the relative ratios of elements, but not bonding structure.”
“Yes, but they have x-ray diffraction studies and it shows a glassy structure instead of a crystalline structure with distinct grains,” Born said.
“You read that fast? Where are you?” Musical demanded.
“Line 41723. You know, the ratio of elements really isn’t that far off most of our known superconductors,” Born said. “But they were all in crystalline form. That kind of puts us back to square one, because we were looking for a liquid superconductor. A glassy structure is similar. It means we really have to examine if any of the known materials act differently prepared as a glass. We’re going to need new equipment.
“Some of the Earth system orbitals deal in significant volumes of glassy steel and other materials, mostly structural. I’m not sure if it is an industry at Fargone. I suspect we shouldn’t broadcast what our new line of inquiry is by openly buying the equipment. There may even be lab size processors to be had used since it’s a fairly mature tech. Perhaps Lee can arrange the purchases for us. She seems to have a surprising variety of useful contacts in both places. Then the responsibility for how discreet to be isn’t on us.”
“Please, I’ve no long-term experience at being secretive,” Musical agreed. “Humans just excel at spy-craft and being devious. Not that I’d say that to Lee,” he added.
“Don’t worry, I’m aware enough to know she wouldn’t take that as a compliment,” Born said. “Gordon might, but he’d never admit it. I’ll look into what sort of processors exist. I know they spray molten metal on cryogenic disks for some things. I’m not sure if the tech has advanced beyond that.”
“Uh huh,” Musical said, still reading the new report. “Maybe vapor deposited? Thanks for taking care of that.”
It never occurred to either of them to question if their employer would willingly foot the bill to transport a large metal processing machine at interstellar freight rates.
* * *
“The Foys are requesting our further assistance beyond a security presence, to provide a facilities manager for their embassy,” the First Mother announced over breakfast to the Second and Third Mum. “What are your thoughts on that?”
“Are they that far along?” the Second Mother asked. “I thought they barely had the beams up the last I knew.”
“They are asking well ahead. I appreciate it actually,” the First Mother said. “It gives us time to consider who we can let go and how to train their replacements.”
“I wish the Badgers had done so,” the Third Mother said. “I’d like some eyes and ears on the inside there to know about any problems early on.”
“The Badgers and Bills left a lot more staff for their embassy, but Queen Heather just sent the Foys. I do wonder why they didn’t send any support people?” the Second Mother said. “I realize we are getting off cheaply to support them, compared to what it would cost us to mount a system defense. Have the Badgers hired any local help?”
“They have three, a Derf gardener who is doing a lot of their landscaping in native plants. They have a Derf handyman who is familiar with Derf construction and electrical systems, and a Derfhome born human who is interesting. He is supposed to help them with Derf and English usage, how to deal with the differences between Clan and city Derf, aspects of human culture here that differ from the Earth Humans, and make sure they don’t get taken advantage of in dealing with local merchants for things like groceries. He said that in Derf he is called a local expert, in Badger he is a facilitator, and in English he’s a cultural advisor, but he said Gofer would be closer to the truth. Somebody who runs errands and just does whatever is needed.”
“You’ve met this person?” the First Mother asked.
“They use the same staples grocer we do. I was going over standing orders and negotiating with them over spices and happened to be there at the same time.”
“I’ve too many years on you to believe in coincidence,” the First Mother said.
“Well, I was interested in who works for them, and it didn’t take any extraordinary effort to be there at the same time, but thinking the Human would be more interesting was an error. He’s a bit beyond my ability to understand deeply because he seems a mish-mash of cultures. I mean… the man tells dirty jokes in Derf that embarrass me. I did give him my com code, said the embassy and Talker were of special importance to us and, if he ever needed to, he should feel free to call. He just said that he knew that and thanked me. I don’t think I’ll ever get any inside information from him.”
“Fascinating,” the First Mother said, propping her chin in a true hand. “I had no idea you had this inclination to dabble in spycraft. What of the Derf employees? Have you contrived to meet either of them? If they are town Derf with no Clan loyalties are they given to talking too freely? Have you thought or planned on this?”
“That would seem unfriendly to me if they ever found out. I’d rather, as I said, have our own people in there, but the Badgers already have a reputation for paying well and being easy going. I doubt either of their hires will leave on their own any time soon. But if we hear they decide they need more help I’d sure like to send one of our own to apply.” The way the Third Mother was looking at them made it a question.
“I have no objection to that. Do you?” the First Mother asked the Second.
“Certainly not, I wish I’d thought of it first,” The Second Mother said.
“Do, however, tell us if you supply them with such an employee,” the First Mother insisted. “I wouldn’t give them any special instructions about being observant or reporting back to you. Otherwise, they are liable to expose themselves by displaying too much interest in things by simple guile. It’s not like we have any trained spies to send. Just make sure you send them a very bright young person and allow loyalty and native intelligence to motivate them to inform us if they hear something we should know. An occasional neutral inquiry if they are still happy in the position should be more than enough to trigger them to discuss it if they have seen anything irregular. Even that shouldn’t be repeated too often or too regularly, lest they come to think you are fishing for something.”
The Third Mother smiled and assumed the same affected chin in hand pose to tease the First Mum. She could only do that because they both liked each other. “Neither did I ever think you’d ever have such detailed advice for me on how to handle an agent.”
“I’ll be another fifty years teaching you all the hats you’ll need to wear before you even get stuck with being Second,” she warned.
“I’ve given up planning much of anything about my life until we see if Gordon and Lee get this life-extension tech they are talking about to work for Derf,” the Third Mother said. “I suspect that would turn our world upside down in ways I can’t predict.”
The other Mothers said nothing. It was horrible having something they both wanted and dreaded so badly at the same time.
Chapter 3
The Champion of Red Tree, Garrett, relaxed in one of the command chairs on the flight deck of the Kurofune. He had it adjusted fairly upright since the vessel was in orbit and not anticipating any acceleration. There was one belt drawn loosely across his legs to keep from drifting away from every little motion. It was a rare treat for him to lift to orbit, and he’d welcomed the chance to do so by handling this himself. This ship and its owner Lee Anderson were important to the Mothers of Red Tree and he would have worried all the while if he’d assigned this duty to anyone else.
He had a security screen active and feeds from a half dozen cameras showing the two weapons techs and a couple of riggers easing a pair of Fargone missiles onto the hard points on the Kurofune’s hull. Keeping an eye on the Fargone contractors worked better if they had no idea they were being watched, so he’d been dropped off hours earlier than the Fargoer ship’s arrival and the scooter that delivered him was taken away by the hired pilot. He had nothing activated to show the ship was occupied.
The civilian workers had suits visibly different than the two Fargone sailors who opened the weapon ports and stood by watching the riggers pull the missiles out of active launch tubes. It was interesting that they transported them that way. It was good though, that they had been through being connected and had experienced acceleration from differing directions while mounted up and live on the trip to Derfhome. The diagnostic systems would tell them if all the movement and vibration triggered any fault.
The ports weren’t closed back up until Garrett saw the tips of other missiles come into view from the ship’s magazine. The sailors inspected something in each opening carefully before allowing the hatches to be secured. Then the naval workers went back in the Quantum Queer. The cruiser was huge compared to the Kurofune, the suited workers giving him some scale to its size. The missiles looked tiny coming out of the cruiser but he knew they were a quarter of the Kurofune’s length.
Garrett listened to the suit chatter. A lot of it was technical stuff he didn’t understand. But some of it was obvious. The techs had plenty of time to probe in the mounting points with test leads and confirm that external power was available as needed. On other connectors, they confirmed that data buses had live power pins.
All that was easily done before the two handling the missiles had them turned the right way and eased down within a hand’s breadth of the mounting points. One of the technicians joined the riggers and found a mark on the missile halfway between the mounts but on the opposite side. After they confirmed alignment, he said. “OK, I’m pushing it now.”
The man had both hands on each side of a mark Garrett couldn’t see on camera. His suit jets had no visible plume, so nothing appeared to be happening for a full minute. However, if some force wasn’t holding him pressed to the missile flat handed he’d have drifted away. They were doing it exactly right and by the book. Jerking big heavy things around in zero-g was a formula for disaster.
“Front taper in the track,” One man called.
“Back taper close,” the other fellow called, “still lined up.”
“Back taper has overlap,” he confirmed in another few seconds.
“Does it need a push more towards the rear?” the man in the center asked.
“It’s still moving. Wait and see if it engages. I’d hate to bounce it.”
“Roger,” was all the other man said and they were silent almost two minutes.
“Are you in past the marks to engage grapples?” The tech in the middle asked. Both riggers replied affirmatively.
“Activate on three then. One, and a two, and a three,” he counted off.
“It looks good, but I’m testing continuity electrically,” The back techie said.
It wasn’t long until he reported a good solid connection.
“How would you like to do that in combat?” His buddy asked. “Thank goodness for power fed magazines and automated connectors.”
“You might have done this at one time in the field, but never in actual combat. If you shoot yourself empty, and can’t run, you’re dead.” He started packing his instruments.
“You guys are done,” one techie told the riggers. “We have to check some other stuff and we’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Without any discussion, the two technicians withdrew to the main airlock of the Kurofune even before the riggers got back to the Quantum Queer. That wasn’t planned and it wasn’t right. There was no need or prior arrangement for them to come aboard. This was planned or they’d have had some discussion during the mounting upon finding a sudden need to come aboard. Garrett could see them peering at the lens of the control panel for the lock. He powered his chair around to face the hatch to the lock deck now, while they were still out in vacuum and wouldn’t hear it moving.
“Well crap, it has a keypad and a camera. But which one is the primary system?”
“I’d try facial recognition first,” his companion said. “It has to be set to just ignore unknown faces or you’d have a lock-down event every time a visitor or new crew member tripped the system. The keypad is much more likely to lock us out hard after three false entries.”
He made a face, “Or fewer, if they’re really paranoid.”
They both hesitated, frowning at the panel.
“You might be over-thinking it,” his companion warned. “Before you use your image, or try to scan the wear pattern on the keypad, why don’t you just hit the open button and see if it’s unlocked?”
That was very interesting. Just what sort of an image did they have that might open the ship’s lock? There might be six faces that would do that and a handful of other licenses or documents the camera could scan and authorize.
The man had an unbelieving scowl behind his faceplate, but in the camera view a gloved hand came up and jabbed just below the camera lens. Garrett heard a faint sound and an orange light with a banner message opened along the top of his screen.
“I should have made a bet on it,” the Fargoer said.
“I’d have given you odds,” his buddy admitted.
Garrett switched cameras to an airlock feed. When the inner door opened he could hear it through the open hatch to the deck below. The men opened their faceplates once inside but didn’t bother to turn their suit radios off. Garrett reached out and cut power to the lock. They had their backs to it and didn’t see the status lights change.
“Damn this is tight. I’d go bonkers crammed in here for more than a day or two, especially if they have a Derf or two crewing. That hatch is labeled as the Captain’s quarters, but I swear most Derf I’ve seen would have to grease their big butt up to fit through that hatch. It might as well be a hot slot.”
“Galley below,” the other fellow reported, looking through the internal hatch, “and no hatch opposite this one, so three decks only. The command deck above has a docking ring on the nose, but I can’t believe they have room for an actual airlock up there too.”
“To business,” the one tech ordered. That was the first clue Garrett had heard that one might be in charge over the other. They sounded like bantering civilians that way, not at all like you would expect of military personnel speaking, with one clearly in charge. They sounded more like drinking buddies out for an evening, chatting about who should buy the next round or if they should take a cab to another bar.
When the first technician popped through the hatch he was good. He really tried to be nonchalant. He didn’t jerk in surprise or look guilty. He might have pulled it off as a social hack if it were the sort of situation he was used to, scamming other Humans with nothing more than bravado.
Garrett had picked up most of his full growth the last year and he was nudging seven hundred kilo. Suddenly facing something that big, wearing space armor with a sixteen-kilo battle ax held across his knees, the man showed just a flicker of guilty hesitation.
“Oh! We didn’t know anyone was working aboard,” he said, too glibly and just a little bit too loudly. “No matter, I should be able to run our software checks from one of the other stations.”
Garrett hesitated to answer just a little longer than the Human had, but it sent a different message. It shouted, “I don’t believe you.”
“I believe the English expression is, over my dead body,” Garrett said.
The techie smiled insincerely and kept moving towards the other rear crew station, babbling some inane chatter about system checks Garrett wasn’t even listening to now.
Garrett let out a huge sigh and slapped his faceplate shut. That scared the man more than anything Garrett could have said. It indicated to a spacer there might be a sudden pressure event.
“Testing,” Garrett said, to confirm he heard his own external speakers in his mic.
“Why are you sealing up?” the man asked, alarmed.
“The last time I split one of you juicy fellows down the middle,” he said, slightly lifting the ax for emphasis, “there was splatter everywhere. I even had the filthy stuff in my fur. It took three days to get all the blood off of the fancy engraved armor I was wearing. I won’t make that mistake again.”
The other techie was looking in the hatch and didn’t seem disposed to rush in.
“But… we need to test the interface to the control systems for the missile,” the fellow insisted, even though he’d wisely stopped advancing.
“You didn’t make the targeting and control system installed on this ship, so I have no idea how you think you could run tests on it. It’s locked-out, much better than the airlock you were prepared to breach. The owner has a very strict non-disclosure agreement with New Japan about both the hardware and software. Similar to the restraints she has on disclosing the internal hardware of the missiles you just installed. You each have basic black-box models about how your systems will interface with the other, but my Lady Lee takes her agreements to keep both your secrets very seriously.
“Besides some sort of illicit image to spoof authorization to enter the vessel, you wouldn’t just happen to have a humongous blank memory chip about you somewhere, would you? Big enough to carry away a copy of the New Japan software?”
The man was past keeping up a façade now and looked guilty. He was however saved from having to construct some ridiculous story by the radio.
“Mr. Cavanaugh, this is Officer of the Watch Harmony Jones. We don’t have a carrier signal or telemetry on your suit radios and you are not visible. If you do not respond I will have to declare an emergency and send a search and rescue team across to look for you. Do you require aid, sir? Can you hear me?”
Garrett reached out and flicked a switch, but only took his eyes off who he assumed must be Cavanaugh for an instant.
“Mr. Jones, this is the Champion of Red Tree sitting security watch on the Kurofune. You may call me Garrett. Your technicians were in the radio shadow of the ship at the main lock, and now are inside the hull. That’s why their radio transmissions cut off. Would you confirm they are not military personnel, but civilian contractors?”
“Damn right they are zip-tab-feather merchants,” Jones replied, angry. “What the devil are they doing inside your hull without telling me they were dropping in for tea? I’d write-up even a raw newbie for playing games like that doing vacuum work.”
“Tell me the truth,” Garrett demanded, “it’s important. Are these valid yard-birds or are they spooks? They were talking at the lock about having an image to spoof the face reader or doing a scan of the number pad for smudges and wear to try to crack an entry.”
Jones ripped off a string of invective that was imaginative even for a pissed off Fargoer spacer. “You think they would tell me what I have aboard even if they were crooked? I have no idea if they would even tell the Old Man, but now I am going to have to wake him up in the middle of his sleep period to ask. You can imagine all the joy that incites in me to need to wake him up.”
“And now I see on my board that the other fellow, the not-Cavanaugh I assume, is trying to open the lock which I have powered down,” Garrett said. He flipped a couple of switches and got a camera feed of him. “He can hear me on his suit radio, so I have to warn him if he inserts the emergency crank and tries to open it manually I’m going to be so irritated I will go down to the lock deck and chop his fingers off with my ax to stop that foolishness. Do I have to do that?” Garrett asked.
“No,” he said from the lock deck, barely audible on the radio circuit.
“Ah, I can hear him too,” Jones said on the Quantum Queer.
“Yes I plugged you into our internal chatter here,” Garrett said.
“Well, I have a rating waking the Captain up as gently as possible. The last com tech who blasted him out of his bunk at max volume in the middle of the night spent the rest of that tour cleaning the engineering decks with a toothbrush and lens cloth. He’ll speak to you soon I think,” Jones predicted. Garrett and he waited patiently.
“Mr. Garrett,” a new voice said, “may we have the luxury of a video feed please?”
“Sure, no problem,” Garrett agreed. He didn’t correct the Captain’s usage of Mister. He supplied his own helmet cam intended for just such communications, and embedded two smaller windows showing the Fargoers in the corners of that feed.
“Cut them out of our feed, please. I am Benjamin Portus, Master. I will review your conversation with my OOTW to get myself up to date and then be able to address your problem intelligently, one may hope.”
Garrett was patient. The man was interesting. He seemed the very upper end of middle age to Garrett. His name didn’t follow Fargone conventions, which might mean he was an immigrant. Now that Garrett knew about life-extension therapies, he always took that into account appraising Human appearances. It was hard to imagine Portus could be an important naval officer and not have those treatments, so either he came to them so late they didn’t fully reverse the usual signs of aging, or he simply didn’t care to have the segments of the treatment that affected appearance. He still had dark hair, however, and massive curly eyebrows to match.
“Very well, I’m current,” Portus announced after a couple of minutes. “If these are Fargone spies they never enlisted my aid to protect them. My personal experience is that I have twice been told my passengers were special, without them being too precise about how special, but they were in both cases simply being transported. I never had them presume to interfere with my actual operations by saddling me with an active operative. I’d certainly be upset if they are our operatives and so inept. Please tell me to what sort of authority I am speaking. What is your job? Can you explain it in terms you think I’d understand?”
“I am head of all Red Tree military forces. Although it’s a long-term job and I’m still in training for many facets of it. My previous Champion and mentor held the job an unusually long time and chose to die in order to take out a four-shuttle force of North American Space Marines invading our Keep.”
“OK, I’m quite aware of that story,” Portus said.
“As I understand it, Humans often have their military subject to civilian control. I am commanded by the three clan Mothers, who tell me what they want to be accomplished, then it is my burden to achieve that. I am also the prosecutor for their legal conflicts. If another clan refuses to acknowledge a law they have published, then at the next meeting of the Mothers their Champion and I will duel to the death to see which law prevails.”
Portus squinted and examined Garrett closer. “I haven’t lived with Derf, but you don’t look that old to me. I’ve seen older Derf. You’re the head security honcho and you’re sitting guard duty on a ship? I might be more likely to believe that if you told me you headed an army of a half dozen.”
Garrett stifled the urge to be offended and answered factually. “I’d never say how many we can field, but we have modern infantry. We have a core of officers and most adult males have had military training and can be called upon. We have a dedicated nuclear division and a few other specialties. The clan has two warships: an enhanced destroyer and a cruiser. We can crew both with reserves. As a Fargone naval officer, I find it hard to believe you are not familiar with Gordon of Red Tree. I am his nominal superior even though I am still learning the job and would bow to his superior experience. I’m also tasked with running security for those embassies on Derfhome to which the Mothers wish to extend protection. The Voice, whom the Sovereign of Central on the Moon has assigned here, reciprocates our protection, and we can call upon her to perform system defense.”
“And yet you sit guard on this odd little ship that is neither destroyer nor cruiser?” Portus said. It seemed to Garrett he was trying to provoke him a little.
“You must carry the same missiles in your tubes. How would you like to deal with both of these launched on you by this odd little ship? They are guided by New Japan targeting systems so you don’t know how their programs will instruct them and you can’t have a back door into those systems. That’s why I am sitting here, to keep anyone from doing that. This is a private vessel for Lee Anderson. She asked the Mothers for a guard on it during the missile installation. It’s a measure of my regard for her and how favorably I know the Mothers regard her that I did not delegate it to anyone else.”
“How do you know we don’t have a back door and destruct command installed on the missiles?” Portus asked.
“Because you know we are going to dissect one of these and examine the code line by line both by programmers and by AI. We have the codes of earlier version missiles to compare. If there is a door in these that wasn’t in the earlier ones we’ll know it. If it existed in earlier code that would expose the missiles you carry to tampering. I doubt your command would risk that. Also, you’d be betraying Gordon of Red Tree after he allied with you and took up Fargone citizenship,” Garrett said. He didn’t have to tell the man why that was a very bad idea. Gordon had a reputation.
That made Portus uncomfortable enough to stop baiting him.
“So, what do you want to do with these chaps?” Portus asked.
Garrett hadn’t expected that at all. He was sure Portus would advance some line of reasoning that allowed him to retain the two in his own custody and take them back to Fargone. If they were Fargone agents, after all, they’d get treated well, if not, their justice system would deal with them. Garrett didn’t know enough to have any idea if that would be their military justice or the civilian courts. He didn’t know Fargone that well.
“I assumed you would ask to submit them to your own justice,” Garrett admitted.
“Why? They didn’t try to sneak on my ship or go slinking around where they didn’t belong. You are the offended party. That doesn’t mean I want them back. I’d shoot the both of them dead before I’d let them touch my hull again.”
At Garrett’s shocked look he explained.
“I don’t know whose spies they are, but I have no doubt at all they are somebody’s spies. There is just no knowing what sort of weapons or nasty surprises they may have left on my ship. When we return to Fargone it’s going to take a long hard search of every cubic centimeter of this vessel to declare it safe. Likely the entire computer infrastructure will have to have a forensic exam and be reloaded. That’s why I had you cut them out of our conversation. They might have been able to actuate something malicious just through a voice link. Even if they haven’t done that, they might try to blackmail me once aboard by claiming the ability to damage us. I won’t risk my command on it.”
“That all seems terribly reasonable, so now I’m not sure what to do with them myself,” Garrett said.
“They’re your problem now. I’ll give you some free advice. Spies often have either the means to deliberately suicide or are set up to be removed even without knowing they carry such a system. I would not take those two anywhere near critical infrastructure or allow them in front of valuable people. They may be able to suicide in a way that takes out as much of value as possible at the same time. The sooner you have them off your vessel the better. If you don’t know how to interrogate Humans indirectly who carry hidden systems and conditioning you will probably waste them.
“We’ve delivered your missiles, so I don’t expect you to hinder our leaving. If you have a problem with the missiles I have no other resources to help you anyhow. My folks are shooters, not factory technicians, and these two are obviously tainted.”
“No sir, if there is any problem with the missiles the customer can take that up with the company. She can make any complaint she wishes about the installers too. I’m here to protect the ship. Like you, I’ve done my job. I thank you for your advice freely given in that regard. I’ll go do that now, and I wish you a good return voyage.”
Portus looked pleased and gave him a sloppy mock salute instead of saying anything else before he disconnected. If he meant the casualness of it to be offensive Garrett just didn’t care.
“You, on the lock deck,” Garrett called out, “come up here and join us.”
“There are two jump seats folded into the rear bulkhead either side of the hatch,” Garrett said, pointing. “Take your helmets off and toss them through to the lower deck and strap in the seats. I’m going to call for somebody to come to take you to the planet. It’s going to be a while, there’s no help for that. I will stay sealed up and I need to make arrangements. Don’t interrupt me if you don’t need to.”
The two complied without any silly complaints.
Garrett cut his external speakers to speak privately and called Lee directly. “I have a complex situation here. I have two Human prisoners who were bent upon gaining access to the Kurofune. They are certainly spies, possibly saboteurs, but we have no idea whose spies. The Master of the Quantum Queer absolutely refused to take them aboard again. He’d kill them first. I decided to stand guard myself without any backup. So I’m sitting here watching two prisoners who are likely dangerous. I don’t dare try to search them for weapons or lock them out of my sight. I need at least two assistants brought up to force them on a shuttle and get them stripped and searched. Also, Captain Portus suggests the interrogation of spies is a delicate matter best done with remote sensing or they may be triggered to suicide. I wonder, do you think our new Central allies might have such skills for interrogating Humans subtly?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Lee said, “but we’ll have to see if they will admit it to me. Do you think you can stay safe and alert for another three hours or more? I can get your two fellows on the station and a reliable pilot to bring a small freight shuttle around to remove them in that time frame.”
“Yes, that’s no problem at all,” Garrett said, and settled in to wait.
Lee took a deep breath and made the hardest call first.
* * *
“We’ve had the oddest thing reported by two different ship owners now, Jeff said. “They were in transfer orbit to a lunar destination and recorded a brief encrypted message from a trans-lunar object aimed towards the Earth.
“There isn’t a lot of scientific work being done in the current economic climate,” April noted, “and that tends to be transmitted in the clear.”
“I don’t think it was scientific,” Jeff said. “It wasn’t deep enough to be in an unknown area of interest for anything. It was from about four times the distance of the Moon’s orbit from Earth. I think it is military.”
Heather looked perplexed. “There’s nothing of military interest out there either.”
“Agreed, and neither ship saw the object transmitting on radar, although the one vessel swept the area with a targeting beam. I believe these were small, heavily stealthed instrument packages, flown by our three habs, and meant to transmit the collected data from a distance that we wouldn’t associate with observing Home.”
“Why couldn’t they do that directly without all the secrecy? April asked.
“The trajectory the instrument package took in passing was too obviously intended to get accurate targeting information. Remember the cloud of projectiles North America shot at Home when we were in Low Earth Orbit? They followed a long orbital path designed to try to obscure where they came from. If you do the same again, now that we are beyond the Moon, it is much more difficult to get all your projectiles on target and not waste them.”
“They’re taking ranging shots to map trajectories,” April said, angry at the idea.
“Yes, I think so,” Jeff agreed.
“Do you want to track down the source and destroy them like we did the orbital rail guns that shot at us before?” April suggested.
“No, not this time,” Jeff said. “I believe it would be better to backtrack and identify them. Let them think we are unaware and will remain a passive target easy to shoot. If we neutralize this scheme then they may adjust it or replace it with something more effective. We can locate the sources and see if they launch a swarm of projectiles. That will give us a speed of light warning to evade as they make a relatively slow ballistic approach. We can destroy the launchers after they have shown hostile intent.
He paused and thought. “A trajectory has two ends. The data will work either way. Their source may not be something we can target.”
“If they start shooting at us again. I intend to respond a lot stronger than just taking out the offending launchers,” April said.
“As you say, you can plan all your responses and preposition everything to take whatever pieces you wish,” Jeff said, making a motion like moving a chess piece.
“I’m not interested in taking a few pawns off the board,” April said. “I want to kick the table over, send the game flying, and kick their butts.”
“I can’t really fault that at all,” Jeff agreed.
* * *
“Eileen? I have a situation on the Kurofune that has me entirely out of my depth. If it is within your ability to help, I’m prepared to make whatever arrangements are needed and stand the cost,” Lee pleaded. “I also won’t argue about what level of favor I owe in return. Do you have the ability to maintain a monitor on a person’s responses to determine their origins and loyalties without a formal interrogation? I’ve always assumed you do a low-level analysis of my own responses whenever we meet. I need something at a higher level, that won’t provoke a possible suicide conditioning in an intelligence agent.”
“Let me get Vic,” Eileen said.
“I’m going to make another call while you do that,” Lee said. “Time is of the essence to see that my guard on the ship is safe.”
Eileen nodded and disconnected.
Lee called the Red Tree workers the clan kept on the station direct. It was bad enough she was going to need to take the time to explain everything to Eileen without doing the same with the Mothers too. She was sure they would be happy to support Garrett in any way needed and she knew the station Derf had military training.
When Lee called back to the Foys they were sitting close together in the camera pickup, waiting.
“First of all, Vic raised an important point,” Eileen said. “Are we speaking of Human intelligence agents or Derf?”
“Humans,” Lee said. “I wouldn’t expect you to have any idea how to test Derf for veracity or reactions to keywords. They were supposedly Fargoer technicians sent to mount my missiles on the Kurofune. Since the Fargoer navy accepted them and they did mount the missiles for me, they would seem to be the genuine article. The problem is they tried to gain unauthorized access to the flight deck. I can’t think of anything else they could have wanted to steal but the New Japan targeting software, and whatever information they could get on the hardware.”
Lee outlined the events and the situation aboard right now, while Garrett waited for help to arrive.
“That was smart to make them remove their helmets,” Vic said. “If it is not a problem to call Garrett again, I’d suggest he set up a one-key pressure dump command on his board. That’s just a little insurance, if those two sit and think on it they might decide they are better off to resist before the cavalry shows up.”
“OK, but I’d like to tell him he has someplace to send them when I call. Are you agreeable to helping me set up a program to study their responses in custody?”
“Maybe, it wouldn’t be as sophisticated as what they could do back home. We’d like you to answer a couple more questions. On whose authority can you hold them? I’m not into kidnapping,” Eileen said.
“The ship was being guarded by the Mothers,” Lee said. “They would regard invading it like trying to break into their Keep. I haven’t talked to them yet. I am short on time to tell this story over and over, but I left them to last because they are the one set of people who I am sure of their response. They are sovereign over their holdings and nobody will check their hand except other clan Mothers. No other clan is going to complain about how our Mothers treat spies who tried to circumvent their security.”
“As spies, caught in the act in the field, even by Earth standards of behavior they could legally be shot out of hand without apology,” Vic said.
“But we aren’t at war,” Eileen said.
“Neither are we at peace,” Vic said. “We are assigned here to guard the system and have been tested once already. Modern states rarely declare formal hostilities. We know they are spies but we don’t have any idea yet for whom they work, let alone what the state of Central’s relationship is with them.”
“That’s one of the things I want to find out,” Lee said.
“They came from a Fargone company in a Fargone warship,” Eileen said. “I’d be shocked if they worked for anyone else. I sure wouldn’t trust those missiles either.”
“No, I can’t agree with that,” Lee said. “We’ll check them out carefully, but I expect them to be clean.”
“What’s your reasoning on that?” Eileen demanded of her.
“If everything had gone well for them, they would have stolen everything they wanted and gotten away undetected. The last thing they wanted to do was leave behind signs we’d been compromised. Messing with the missiles would do that sooner or later.”
“She’s likely right,” Vic told his wife. “Where do you want to take these fellows? Your clan Keep? Do they have some dungeons down in those tunnels?”
“Derf have never taken prisoners. They always fought until one clan was totally annihilated, their legacy destroyed and lands taken. It was a difficult concept to get them to accept a surrender from North America. They just knew if they won on the basis of total annihilation it would turn all the other nations and worlds of man against them.”
“That’s horrid,” Eileen said, and then you could see she regretted saying it.
“It had the advantage of restraining them from starting wars casually,” Lee said.
“Yes, yes I can see that, but what about Vic’s question? I don’t want to start using our new embassy as a prison,” Eileen insisted. “What is Derfhome City’s status as far as the Mothers are concerned, or the other clans for that matter? Who decided it was the capital city and who will give us a hard time if we have a private jail here?
“It’s kind of weird,” Lee admitted. “Humans expected a capital city for trade, so early on the Derf told them Derfhome was the capital because it was the largest town. Before that, they just called it Big Town. It’s doubtful they understood the political implications back then. None of the clans would ever dare claim to be the capital because the other clans would never let them get away with elevating themselves. It’s really just another neutral trade town and took up the mantle of being the capital to satisfy humans. It’s all PR and bluster without any authority to back it. It has all the legal status of names Earth cities give themselves to attract tourists.
“They have a loose council of trade organizations and merchants like all the other trade towns. It’s only in the last couple of decades they have got enough public support to take a voluntary collection to pave the streets on sections that don’t have privately owned frontage. They don’t have an official police force or a zoning authority like you expect in Human cities. People hire private security and there are customs about what and where you build. Just about everything they do is based on not wanting to provoke a clan to step in and impose laws and orders from outside, which they still can.”
“Would you fund a safe house in town?” Vic asked. “That’s the usual way of keeping such things at arm’s length, and they are handy for other things.”
“That’s no great expense to me,” Lee said. “As you say, Garrett or you guys will likely find other uses for it.”
She and Vic both looked at Eileen expectantly.
“Yeah, do it for now,” Eileen agreed, aware of the press of time. “But I want to hear that you did eventually check with the Mothers, and they don’t have any objections or want changes, even if it is done off their territory.”
“Certainly,” Lee agreed. “I’ll visit them, but I’ll call Garrett right now.”
Chapter 4
“I want to expand our biological library again and start shipping copies of what we already have to two safe locations outside the Solar System,” Heather decided.
“Your wish is my command,” Jeff agreed.
“He thinks it’s stupid,” April said. “The less he argues the less he thinks of it. If he liked it he’d have a list of improvements to add.”
“How can one win?” Jeff protested. “I do need some guidance on what you want to add. I think we have every plant common to commercial agriculture and most of the wild source plants and heirloom variations. We have decorative plants and drug sources. We have trees out the wazoo and wildflowers. What else do you want?”
“The junk nobody sees any use for at the moment,” Heather said. “Weeds like poison ivy, ragweed, goldenrod, ferns, lichens, and mosses. Basically anything we don’t already have no matter how useless it seems at the moment. I know we can’t get it all, there are over twenty thousand kinds of moss alone, but we can get a lot more of it.”
“What inspired this?” April asked. “I’m not objecting, it’s just going to triple or quadruple what we’ve already spent. Not that we’re broke,” she said, to soften that.
Heather sighed. “Chairman Hu made me think it. The man leads a quarter of Earth’s population and he’s so damn dumb he must need written instructions to breathe.”
“He doesn’t so much lead as drive them before him,” Jeff said.
“You’re afraid he will do something so stupid it will be an extinction event,” April guessed.
“I’m not concerned most of these plants or all the oddball animals we can’t afford to preserve will be gone. Most of them would survive, far better than people. People won’t be extinct on Earth either, even from a nuke war. But it may be a very long time before it is cheap and comfortable to have others do any more commercial collection there.”
“What is he doing now?” Jeff asked.
“They are playing games with the satellite navigation signals, trying to spoof them, so they can get a ship or spy plane to encroach on their territory for propaganda purposes, and jamming radio. But the spy planes have been flying with missiles loaded and the North Americans have publicly announced they are ordered to go weapons hot and protect themselves any time they don’t have a data link to command. The ships from both sides have been shadowing the other’s coast far too closely for safety.
“It makes the chances of somebody starting the shooting by accident much greater,” Heather said. “It’s an ongoing game of chicken, and the longer it goes on the more you have tired stressed crews and equipment. One failure or accident can be misinterpreted as a hostile action.”
“Why blame Hu, and not the North Americans?” April asked.
“I’m not a big fan of either, but I’ve been watching this for a couple of weeks, and every time it stabilizes, Hu has been the one to take it to the next level,” Heather said. “Not that Turner has ever backed off a level to try to de-escalate it. It may be a cultural thing. If Hu can’t make Turner yield some minor point he may be in danger of losing power.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” Jeff asked.
“On the positive side, maybe if they are busy sniping at each other they won’t cooperate on the Claims Commission and that will give us some time before they can get organized to make more trouble for us,” April said.
“Shucks yeah,” Jeff agreed, “if they have a serious war it could put them off bothering us for a generation.”
That was a far costlier way for them to gain peace than April wanted to contemplate.
“How long would it take us to evacuate from the Solar system?” April asked. “If they do have a serious big war, what little supply we still get will probably be lost, and the neighborhood will be more dangerous, even beyond the Moon. Why hang around?”
“I don’t think even a big war would cut off all trade,” Heather said. “Even if North America and China are in bad shape there are too many other nations with lift capacity now, some of them in the southern hemisphere. There are even people with private ships that can get to LEO. If a billionaire needs a cancer vaccine he’ll arrange it and the fact half his countrymen are dead won’t matter to his needs. But we wouldn’t be getting the sort of bulky luxury goods like wine or seafood that we get now.”
“Evacuate just Central you mean?” Jeff asked April.
“Realistically, isn’t that difficult enough? For whom else are we responsible? We can’t speak for Home or Armstrong,” April said.
“Chen has agents for us in various places,” Jeff reminded her. “It would be difficult to abandon them, but I can see doing it as a matter of national survival. We owe them, and yet our relationship is not a suicide pact. Off the top of my head, if we used both ore carriers and put construction scaffolding in the bays and free-standing environmental packs we could probably do it in ten trips. Call it ten days, seven days to get the carriers ready and three days to do orderly boardings and unload at one of our worlds. We’d have to send a ship ahead with orders to start fabricating shelters.
“I know we have stars and planets to choose from, but I have an irrational attachment to Central,” Heather said. “I wouldn’t agree to abandon it and all the man-hours we’ve put into it unless things got really bad. I also suspect a number of people wouldn’t want to leave and why should we deny them staying? How could we? Central is much safer from attack than the habitats. The Earthies know they have nuked us before and we’re still here.”
“You’d get resistance from the landholders,” April predicted. “Even if their lives were threatened, I predict many would stay. And the ones who want to go wouldn’t be happy with packing a bag. I can predict right now we’d have people insisting they bring along things like machine tools and rovers.”
“The hard part would be feeding them,” Jeff said. “Most of our food growing infrastructure is built in place and not designed to move. It would take months to reproduce the basic stuff to generate sufficient calories. So, if you ever plan to try this, or even want the ability to do so, you better buy a few hundred thousand survival bars and stockpile them in place. None of our worlds have the right kind of biologicals available to feed a sudden influx. That would be kind of obvious too. You might get away with spreading contracts out to several countries and buying something like fifty thousand bars a year before intelligence agencies started asking why. A lot of places on Earth are having trouble feeding their own and it would take us years to dig tunnels and ramp up our own production.
“As far as Home, it’s interesting you should mention them. We’ve been modeling it. If three or more ships bracketed Home or one of its companions and jumped out together, they might be able to drag it along, in theory. Beta and Gamma would be easier because they’re sturdier. We’ve dragged heavier rocks along to add to our Martian satellite using just two ships and it worked, except for the one that turned into a flying gravel pile. If the people would vote to go, I’m pretty sure we could move them without anyone needing to even pack a bag.”
“Are you crazy? Would you ride in Home while that was attempted? Would you risk three or four thousand people to such a scheme?” Heather demanded.
“If we were under continuing attack, yeah, I might. We weren’t expecting another immediate attack when we moved Home out of LEO. But we still took some risk to do that. I’d ride in the stupid thing if we took three ships and practiced dragging a rock of about the same mass around before trying it with Home.”
“Wouldn’t that be stealing the hab?” April worried.
“Maybe, but Japan never objected to moving it the first time,” Jeff pointed out. “Perhaps they should have. We have a precedent for moving it now.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly,” Heather said. “Under dire circumstances, we might evacuate Central to one of our worlds. But, if we ever had to move Home or Beta or Gamma we wouldn’t take them to one of our worlds. There would be no way to integrate them with a smaller number of Central citizens, it would destabilize us. We might as well give those worlds away. We’d be isolating all these people, cut off from Human space. They would never accept living like that and they’d outnumber us. There’s no way it wouldn’t have a very bad end.
“No, if we had to move them, we’d take them to a world with Human infrastructure that could gear up rapidly to absorb them. Fargone or Derfhome and even New Japan might accept Home since it has such close ties to Japan. I doubt if any one world could absorb the population increase of all three habs, so you’d have to break them up.”
“Oh… ” Jeff said, looking sheepish. “I hope we never have to do that, but that makes more sense than what I was thinking. They might not appreciate having a giant space station with a couple of thousand people just show up in their sky you know.”
“Indeed, it’s all just insurance, not something we want to do unless there are no better choices, and I don’t really ever expect to do it. If it ever does come to that we can always plead that it is a temporary measure until we can make better arrangements. After all, what can be moved once can be moved again,” Heather said.
“I don’t know,” April said. “Derfhome, for example, might be delighted to have the shipbuilding capabilities of Home dropped in their lap. Fargone or New Japan already have that. And Lee was hot to get life-extension for Derfhome. We have three clinics, surely one would decide to go along.”
“I’d bet anything if we offered the option to leave to the Assembly, they might get enough volunteers to send one hab and the others would stay behind,” Jeff said.
“Well, that would make it easier,” April pointed out. “People could swap cubic.”
“If the Earthies managed to destroy any one of the three habs I can almost guarantee the other two would be eager to move to safety,” Heather said.
“I’ll quietly find a rock of equivalent mass and practice moving it using the same standoff distances and formation that moving Home would require,” Jeff decided. “It’s good to have contingency plans.”
“I’ve a thought about those ration bars,” April said. “Why not bid them out on the other Human worlds instead of Earth? It wouldn’t have the same impact as doing it here. Nobody would mistakenly think we are doing it to send a message. You can move them at need easier than the people. One trip in a bulk ore carrier would do it. You don’t even need to put frames and decking in the holds, just clean them out a little.”
Heather nodded. “Good idea, of course, it doesn’t have to be bars. They are just very handy and easy to store. Please start the ball rolling on that, Dear. As Jeff said, it’s good to have contingency plans in place before you suddenly need them.”
* * *
“That’s really odd,” Eileen Foy told her husband.
“OK, you have my attention,” Victor said, dropping his reader to his lap and giving her his full regard.
“In the latest dispatches, Lady April asks us to find a local source or sources for emergency rations and start negotiating to buy one hundred thousand meal equivalents and store them locally, with options to increase the order later.”
Vince replied with no hesitation. “They are hedging against the Earthies waging war with them. That could come over backing Derfhome or other things unknown to us.”
“That’s a lot of wild supposition from very little data,” Eileen objected.
“It’s what I do so well,” Vic said. But he didn’t go back to his reader. He knew Eileen wasn’t done with it. “Also, I don’t think you need to refer to April as her Ladyship now that you are her peer. It’s like coffee talk among people with doctorates, they only demand they be addressed as Doctor before the unwashed masses. Among their own, it’s just assumed unless it’s someone they hate.”
“You are evading the issue,” Eileen said. “Central is very secure. They have survived nuclear bombardment already. They are very close to being independent in food production if not there already. Why would they spend a large sum to buy emergency supplies here instead of Earth?”
“First of all, I doubt that they will spend a tenth of a percent of their current income to stockpile emergency rations. It’s the financial equivalent of buying a couple of extra cans of self-heating stew and a box of crackers to keep in the pantry for us.
“Second of all, they probably are doing this in response to signals from Earth that we’re not privy to, that they will push on the claims issue. It’s smart not to send signals to the Earthies that they are making physical provisions in case it does devolve to war. I think in this case it is futile though. All contracts on Derfhome are a matter of public record. I can’t imagine even the Earthie intelligence agencies don’t have a clerk somewhere in their depths assigned to watch those filings. Probably more for weapons purchases, but anything that could be an item of military logistics will be flagged.”
Vic frowned and looked off at an unseen horizon. “Central is very secure, though if they kept getting persistently bombarded to where they can’t come back to the surface and rebuild it would wear them down eventually. The Home constellation of habs, however, is much more susceptible to attack.”
“People resist change,” Eileen said. “If you are thinking of an evacuation I doubt you could get the Assembly to vote for one, just a limited number of individuals.”
“Nah, blow one hab to hell and the other two will have ninety-nine percent of the population lined up at the airlock willing to pay to leave,” Vic predicted.
“Ninety percent,” Eileen argued. “But your basic dark vision is correct.”
Vic figured that talked it out sufficiently to try to go back to his reader, but Eileen was still thinking on it and interrupted him again.
“I do take your point about the Derfhome custom on contracts, and operational security. I will pursue the acquisition but not let it out as a contract, just a standing offer. It may make us more susceptible to overruns and market fluctuations to do it that way, but I’ll keep it entirely private so the matter isn’t in the public record and carried off in ship mail,” Eileen said.
“Tell your supplier, so that your intent is understood that you are also buying privacy, or an innocent comment in the wrong ear will undo all your effort,” Vic said.
“And I won’t try to keep it from Lee or the Mothers,” Eileen decided. “Like the supplier, better to enlist their active aid in the matter as allies.”
“Not to mention the futility of keeping anything from Lee,” Vic added. “She will probably have a better inventory of our pantry than the kitchen help, when we get our embassy all sorted out and running.”
“You think the Mothers’ people will spy on us and share it?” Eileen asked.
“I think the Mothers will spy on us too,” Vic said. “I would.”
* * *
“I never expected her to buy a new machine,” Born said. He said it in a perfectly normal controlled voice, but his eyes were as big as saucers. Musical had to admit he was impressed. Neither did Lee bother to hide the cost from them. The machine having a manifest pocket glued to the crate, and another sticker declaring it was priority freight, not subject to bumping and bonded out by the carrier with triple indemnities due for damage, loss, or delay in transit. On opposite ends of the crate, they had bump tattlers mounted to document any rough handling. The bright orange instrument packages were prominent to act as a visible deterrent to dock hands more than simply reporting.
“I bet the Fargoers are much less likely to let the sales of specialized equipment leak out to the Earthies,” Musical said, “besides being closer. I just didn’t know if they made this sort of thing or if they bought it from Earth.”
“It was twenty-seven million, one hundred eleven thousand dollars Ceres to haul this from Fargone!” Born read aloud. “That’s actually about ten times what I would have guessed. But I’ve never had anything delivered interstellar over five hundred grams.”
The driver, who seemed to be the boss of the two delivery workers, looked at him funny. “You’d be about right, for just this case.”
“What do you mean?” Born said.
“That’s the price for the whole shipment,” the fellow explained. “You have six other big containers and ten smaller boxes. Everything in the truck is yours. It’s all the mixing mills, vacuum and power support equipment. A control console and all the cables and pipes and crap to make this work,” he said, patting the first crate safely on the cart.
“Where the heck am I going to put all that?” Born asked.
“I don’t know, but you already signed for it,” The driver said. “My responsibility for it ends when it is safely on your dock, or in this case, on the pavement outside your door since you guys have no real loading dock. I’m being a nice guy and helping you wheel it in, because this is a special handling order, and the only delivery I have to make today.”
Chapter 5
“The Lunatics have been doing some very strange things,” USNA Undersecretary of State Wilson said.
“Which ones?” Secretary Sepulveda asked. “Armstrong, the French, the Japanese, Central, that pseudo-independent former Chinese outpost Camelot, or the two Brazilians and an Israeli who style themselves the International Colony?”
“The Centralists. They have hired several biologists to gather an unusual selection of specimens for an odd sort of bio-library. The Independent International Colony would be more likely to preserve a hundred exotic varieties of Cannabis from what I have seen of their web site.”
Sepulveda looked confused. “I thought there were enough gene trusts, seed vaults, and preservation societies who will sell to anyone as part of their nonprofit charter to satisfy any need. I remember there are three big ones dug in around the Arctic.”
“Yes, but we saw them acquiring a collection of valuable and useful plants several years ago,” Wilson said. “This time they are going for things nobody reasonably thought were in any danger, mosses, and weeds. Who really expects crabgrass and tumbleweed to be in any danger? They’re the sort of organisms that people are more likely to study how to eradicate.”
“But some of those hardy plants are useful for terraforming,” Sepulveda remembered.
“Yes, and those are readily available,” Wilson said.
“Shouldn’t the spies be on top of this?” Sepulveda asked.
“It’s not sexy enough,” Wilson insisted. “They would shrug and dismiss it because it isn’t strategic materials or weapons systems. Ask yourself, when in the last several decades have the spymasters ever predicted a major economic shift or change in governance? They can’t even see a revolution brewing a week ahead. I think they may be the least imaginative of any of the agencies.”
“You have a point there now that you mention it,” Sepulveda said, and lapsed into thoughtfulness again.
“They must expect a change of circumstances, where they may be cut off from the source biologicals. That would have to be a major shift such as a general economic upheaval or war. This looks like long-range planning to cover the less likely scenarios to me. I’m thinking they are probably taking these materials out of the system to remote places they regard as safe just like our arctic depositories.”
“War, upheaval, or a massive extinction event,” Wilson suggested.
There was another long silence while Sepulveda thought on the matter.
“The questions to my mind are, do they think we may decide to cut them off ourselves as a form of sanctions? Are they predicting economic upheaval or a war independent of their own actions, or are they planning to act themselves in such a way that this is their last chance to fill out a full biological library? One assumes they would warn the rest of humanity if they saw a serious alien threat to the homeworld.”
“Maybe the fuss over the Claims Commission worries them?” Wilson suggested. “They did announce some sort of treaty with Derfhome, taking them under their protection. Maybe they think the major members will oppose that arrangement.”
“All that’s internal to the commission members,” Sepulveda said, with a dismissive wave. “I can’t imagine why a trade association would care what arrangements they make off in some backward world that doesn’t concern us. That seems like a foolish concern. We can always find some accommodation for trade, but it’s policy that worries me.”
Wilson thought his boss’ view too narrow. Wars had been fought over trade when policy didn’t bend to it, but he wisely didn’t argue with his boss. “Well, our pushing back and forth with China could look dangerous to them. You might easily ask why it doesn’t make us more worried.”
“We discount it as normal,” Sepulveda said. “It follows unspoken rules. You notice nobody is playing chicken with Central or Home. If you light a Home ship up with targeting radar to see if he will react you know you’ll get a missile up your butt. We don’t expect the Chinese to respond like that. I think the Spacers view it through a lens of how they would respond.”
“Well, if they are planning an attack, it would have to be so severe they are worried about the survival of ragweed and bindweed,” Wilson said.
Sepulveda went into another of his long thoughtful silences. Wilson didn’t say anything, not only because the man was his boss, but because even if he took time to think things through, the conclusions he came to were often valuable.
“If we can’t determine their motives and intentions here, it might be worth intensifying our observation of them in other systems. Central has a long-standing relationship with Fargone, and now this new closer alliance with Derfhome. If there is anywhere these new activities might reveal themselves more clearly, it will be off in other systems, not here. I think we should divert assets to looking for any activities out there that might shed light on what is happening here,” Sepulveda decided.
“We’re effectively excluded from a military presence in both systems and have no embassy at either. That’s the usual means of inserting agents on foreign soil,” Wilson said. “Yet I find it hard to believe our intelligence services don’t have some assets there.”
“But if they do, they will be watching all the wrong things, and they wouldn’t share the information with us anyhow. They hoard it like we are the enemy,” Sepulveda said.
“Indeed, but we are not excluded from trade, which shows its relative importance. I have no idea offhand what trade exists with them. We can sponsor some commercial ventures to both worlds who will examine a wide swath of activity for us. We can fund it as research and get the results unfiltered, without the hassle we’d get by trying to tell our own spies how to go about their own business. They’d just resent that.”
“I’ll get my people started on it,” Wilson agreed.
* * *
“Leader Bacon, I really need to take you up on your offer to engage the College of Practical Applications on our project,” Born said. The Badger Musical was hovering to the side out of camera range, intensely interested too.
Bacon looked thoughtful. He was somewhat like a dean in a Human college, but with more authority and a freer hand in his Derf institution.
“You have some results that warrant testing by actual construction?” Bacon asked.
“We haven’t gotten that far,” Born admitted. “We have an interesting line of research to pursue. In all innocence, we asked our patron to procure a prototyping or low volume machine to create glassy metals. She had a new machine sent by interstellar priority freight from Fargone.”
That was sufficient to paint a surprised look on Bacon’s face.
“The actual machine is only about two cubic meters,” Born said, “but what was delivered filled an entire truck with support equipment. I’ve filled my entire office and have crates outside blocking the hallway. I don’t have room to store it much less assemble it or get the utilities it requires. I really don’t want to ask our patron to construct an entire building with heavy utilities to house the machine. So, I was hoping such a device would be of sufficient interest for the engineers to house in one of their facilities, in exchange for shares in using it.”
“Let me get the head of that college in a conference call,” Bacon suggested. “We’ll see what he thinks of the proposition.”
Bacon had the kind of power to call up the head of a college and expect he’d drop everything to speak with him. Born understood, he’d do the same.
The Derf who appeared on the screen did so quickly but didn’t look happy about it. That put Born off and worried him, but Bacon knew that was his normal appearance, so he ignored it and didn’t take offense.
“Leonardo, would you care to have the use of a prototyping machine for creating glassy-metals?” Bacon asked. He didn’t bother to introduce Born yet.
Leonardo’s eyes shifted, so he saw Born on the split screen, but didn’t ask who he was or what he had to do with this offer yet.
“Sure, I’d like a steel mill too for instructional purposes. If you have thirty or forty ounces Au in the budget you don’t know what to do with I’ll use it for a glassy-metal proto. It would be nice to not just teach theory about such important materials. Who do I have to kill to get this deal?” Leonardo looked again at Born’s half of his screen. Likely it wouldn’t bother him at all if the answer to that was this young fellow.
“This is Born, who is active on the theoretical side of the Physics Department,” Bacon said, with a wave of his hand. “He is in possession of such a machine and wants to share secondary access to it in exchange for housing it.”
Born smiled at him.
Leonardo blinked slowly three times. Probably trying to figure out if this could be some kind of nasty prank.
“It’s nice for theorists to have a hobby,” he said warily. “Did you not have room for the glassy-metal maker after the research reactor took up so much space?”
“It’s occupying most of my office already and way too much of the hall outside. I have an associate and we are doing research on certain types of superconductors for a wealthy patron. When we asked about getting such a machine she just bought one new and had it sent from Fargone,” Born said.
“A brand new machine?” Leonardo asked.
Born nodded affirmatively.
“From Fargone?” Leonardo demanded.
“Indeed, she sent it interstellar as priority freight with delivery penalties,” Born said.
When Leonardo didn’t say anything Born expanded on it.
“We spoke with Leader Bacon about it some months ago, and he held out the possibility you could be called on to help support the project down the road. Well, we’re at a point now such aid would be very welcome. I know you have some fairly large facilities with machine tools and things. If you could spare the space to house the machine we won’t be keeping it going full time. Musical, my associate and I were hoping you’d house it in exchange for the opportunity to use it. I probably should have called right when it arrived on the truck without unloading it. They could have taken it on to your facility, but it didn’t occur to me.”
“That’s entirely OK,” Leonardo said. “I can send a mob of graduate students over to bear it to our lab on their sweaty backs.”
“Pay no attention,” Bacon said to Born’s distressed look. “Leonardo is given to hyperbole and sarcasm. I’m sure he’ll send a truck and a mob of graduate students. I take it that’s an acceptance?” Bacon asked pleasantly. “Just nod yes after the Human manner or grunt emphatically,” he instructed Leonardo.
Leonardo managed both.
“Ah very good, I’ll leave it to you two to work out the details,” Bacon said, leaving.
“Exactly how much did your patron spend for your little toy?” Leonardo asked.
“The freight actually was a bit more than the machine,” Born said. “It all came pretty close to fifty million dollars Ceres.”
“Are you her boy toy or something to get that kind of support to pursue your research?” Leonardo demanded crudely.
“She actually initiated the line of research,” Born testified, taking offense at the way Leonardo was immediately vulgar and trying to stifle it. “She may not have the ability to describe it in elegant mathematical terms, but the lady is smart and has an obvious intuitive understanding of the principles involved. She is Human not Derf, so I could hardly have the sort of personal relationship you suggest.”
“I don’t know. I’m personally quite attracted to filthy rich in any form,” Leonardo admitted. “Do you want to give me an address to send my boys over?” he asked, saving Born from making a reply Leonardo might have found offensive.
“Yes, and my associate Musical and I will follow along so we are familiar with where you are taking it to set up,” Born said.
“Foiled again, I was going to take it off to our other secret lab and just disappear it,” Leonardo said.
Born just ignored that and ended the call. He could see he was going to get a lot of practice ignoring bizarre responses and crude humor while he had to work with Leonardo. The Derf might think he was hilariously funny, but Born found him unfunny to the point he was going to make them sign a receipt for the machine. Leonardo had given him no solid reason yet, but he didn’t trust him.
* * *
“Lee has purchased a property in the old town and turned it over to Garrett to make very secure and maintain it,” the First Mother said. “Right now it is being used to house the spies caught on Lee’s ship while they are being examined, but we’ll maintain it for other purposes. It gives us a place from which to act in other ways in the town. That seems like a long-term necessity if we are to have closer relations with the town Derf. There may be other things we need to do in town that we don’t want to advertise and create a public fuss, so we aren’t making this a labeled public facility in any sense. It is anonymous and will be kept that way. The English term is a safe house.”
“Garrett will maintain a guard there?” the Third Mother asked.
“Yes, he plans to have at least two and possibly four soldiers on hand there at all times,” the First Mum explained.
“That seems like a small number to secure a permanent location,” the Third Mother said. “Somebody has to be on duty guarding, so housekeeping and cooking as well as going out for supplies would seem to be burdensome on top of their military duties. Why don’t I send a mature caretaker couple to see to those mundane things and let them give full attention to their duty?”
The First and Second Mother shared a long meaningful look. When the First Mother said nothing the Second took that as leave to speak.
“Might they be intended to be your eyes and ears inside the safe house?” she asked.
“Yes, they can report to us with perhaps more candor than the others might. It’s difficult to ask soldiers to be spies too. I think it takes a slightly different mindset. As an isolated group with strong camaraderie they might be tempted to not speak ill to us of their mates over things they can excuse as minor. Also it lets them deny to others with perfect candor if they are charged with spying. They will be clan, and the soldiers will likely share stories freely with those they see as their own. But I have in mind using them to observe other things in town too.”
“Do it,” the first Mother instructed. “But differently than the sort of casual arrangement we spoke of before. Pick this pair very carefully and make it explicitly known to them they are gathering intelligence and doing so undercover. They are the start of a formal intelligence gathering organization. Do not lose sight of the fact you are doing this for all three of us and our successors. You are running it, but it is not your private plaything.”
“I will write a full weekly report,” the Third Mother promised.
* * *
The salesman for Capital Provisions, Walton, was a very dark chocolate coated Derf with a little white showing on the ear tassels. “Individually wrapped bars just aren’t a very popular way to package food on Derfhome. If you insist on getting them that way it’s going to be a big delay. I doubt anybody knows how to make the machinery to form and seal them in wrappers. The smart thing to do rather than experiment would be to license Human designs. Though that would take time to negotiate, and then time to fabricate the processing line locally. All of which would have to be recovered by charging you a premium price for a unique product.”
“We also wanted to do this quietly,” Eileen said. “That sort of process, shopping for the design license and paying fees to Earth would attract more attention than we wanted. We’ll have to consider a serving that is nutritionally equivalent but in a form that is common locally. What sort of packaging do you normally use for emergency rations and institutional food?”
“Let me call a nutritionist and process engineer in from the factory to talk with you,” Walton suggested. “They can not only tell you how we design a product but show you samples. Can you come later in the morning say eight and a half or nine, and be hungry to try some items?
“That would work for me. Vic honey, is that fine with you?” Eileen asked.
Vic was staring past Walton at the wall, calculating. He was still not comfortable thinking in Derf hours. There were twenty hours of four thousand seventeen Earth seconds. So noon was ten. A Derf hour was just shy of sixty-seven Earth minutes. Sixty-seven times nine would be six hundred seventy minus sixty-seven. Round it off to six hundred minutes, so about ten Earth hours into the day. That would be an early lunch not a late breakfast for them. They were early risers.
“Yeah, that’s fine. By the time we meet and greet and have a little talk-talk it’ll be time for lunch,” Vic agreed.
“A bit late for the first of the two usual Derf meals,” Eileen reminded Vic. “But you can have a light breakfast after you run.”
Walton looked at them funny. Even they could tell as little experience as they had with Derf expressions.
“Why do you need to run anywhere? I mean, instead of taking your car or a hired ride?” It puzzled him.
“Humans often run for exercise,” Eileen told him.
“Derf often work for exercise,” Walton said, “but not if they don’t need to.”
“Humans are made to run. If they don’t stay fairly active they start having health problems. At a minimum frequent brisk walking, but running releases certain brain chemicals. It’s very rewarding.”
Eileen could tell that raised more questions than it answered.
“We’re cursorial hunters of unusual endurance,” she said by way of explanation.
“I’m not sure they have any persistent hunters in the local Derf ecology to know what you mean,” Vic told her gently.
“The term is unfamiliar to me,” Walton admitted. “But about the time I start feeling I know English it seems somebody will throw out a new expression like that.”
“A Human, in ages past, might just have a spear with which to hunt and not be able to throw it very far accurately,” Eileen explained. “He’d select a herbivore from the herd and run at it. The animal would run off a couple of hundred meters, faster than the Human could run. But prey animals lack endurance beyond a sprint. The Human would just keep after him. Every time the animal ran away it never fully recovered before the human caught up to it and made him run again. Eventually, it didn’t matter how closely the Human approached again. When the animal was too exhausted to run again it either collapsed or got speared.”
She illustrated with a vicious stabbing motion that made a half ton monster shudder.
“How long could you do that?” Walton asked, fascinated but horrified.
“Days if you are hungry enough,” Eileen said, smiling at him for effect.
Humans were often made uncomfortable by Derf smiling. It was interesting, Vic observed, that the opposite could be true too.
“Let me put it a different way,” Walton said. “How far can a Human run?”
“It’s pretty common for Humans to run a traditional forty-two-kilometer course against each other for the best time,” Eileen said. “For fun,” she added.
“Without stopping?” Walton asked.
“Well yeah, if you want to finish in any decent time. A good runner should be able to do it in about five hours. Somebody gene modified like us can shave a little bit off that.”
It was so obvious Walton was giving that such deep thought it would have been rude and intrusive to interrupt him, so they waited.
“This helps me understand Humans better,” Walton said. “Frankly, some of my friends find Humans pushy. But to be able to hunt like that, pushiness is a necessity, an absolute virtue, and must be deeply bred into your species.”
“I never thought of it from that angle,” Eileen said, “but it makes perfect sense.”
“I’m glad you did not find it offensive. Shall we meet with my people tomorrow and pursue this further?”
“Sure, thanks, we’ll be back and hungry,” Eileen promised.
* * *
“This is pretty nice,” Gordon said, turning around slowly and inspecting the cabin.
“If you don’t like the colors the panels can be reset,” Lee said.
“But not to an image?” Gordon teased.
“They could do that, but there was a mass penalty and a power budget added. Of course, you can override non-essential power draws,” Lee said. “Still, we decided to keep the ship as light and simple as possible. There aren’t many fancy comforts.”
“If I need art I can buy a film to put on the wall or just show it on my screen,” Gordon said, waving at it. “It’s certainly big enough. I’m just impressed I can turn around in my cabin without backing into the corridor first. I don’t really expect to spend much time here that I’m not sleeping.”
“One of the Earthie adventure videos I watched had the Captain in his cabin a lot doing reports and filling out forms instead of being on the bridge. In fact, he took some of his meals there,” Lee said. “I was trying to figure out why they would show that? The film seemed to be a promo to get people interested in serving, and that didn’t seem like it would motivate anybody to sign up. Doesn’t he delegate and have people to do stuff?”
“You’d have to ask somebody who actually served on their ships. I have no idea how they do things internally. You’d know more about the style of how Humans administer things from when you lived with your cousin in Michigan,” Gordon suggested.
“Yeah, but I mostly saw him dealing with the Negative Tax people. You couldn’t run a warship like that!” Lee said. “They had forms for everything in great detail. How often you could get your place painted and who was on the approved list to paint it and what kind of paint they could use. The painter had to be a local business and they had to hire certain kinds of people and use approved trucks. They had to use certain ladders, wear approved uniforms, and meet all kinds of safety standards. They had to have classes for their painters about how to treat each other and do drug tests and stuff. Then there would be annual inspections for everything and reports if it needed to be repainted and why. Actual painting was sort of an after-thought. That’s just painting. They make as big a production out of everything.”
Gordon did that learned facial gesture that almost looked like a Human raising their eyebrow. He opened one eye wider and tightened his furry forehead over that eye. It looked remarkably similar given the lack of a real eyebrow.
“No, really,” Lee insisted. “You’d never be able to get around to training on stuff that matters, stuff that you need to actually fight effectively.”
Gordon just did the eyebrow thing again and added a grin.
“Oh. You did whip their butts pretty badly didn’t you?” Lee finally recalled.
“I recall our friend Heather told you, "Naval officers don't have to think. They have doctrine to follow," Gordon said.
“That wasn’t just sarcastic humor?” Lee asked, horrified.
“Depends on which side of the missile exchange you are on,” Gordon said, making fingers pass each other in a mock exchange. “We always found it terribly amusing.”
Lee closed her eyes for a few seconds and looked sick. “That reduces people to expendable units over stupid paperwork,” she decided.
“As usual, you are succinct. Your empathy speaks well of you. You aren’t a monster. But I hope that pondering the morality of it wouldn’t make you hesitate just a fraction of a second too long to launch one of those shiny new missiles.”
“No, I have my own people I value even if they don’t honor theirs,” Lee insisted. “Oh, you should know, the missiles checked out perfect.”
“Good. You know what I do, running scenarios over and over in my head,” Gordon said, tapping his skull. “I highly recommend it.”
“I try to do that already,” Lee said. “Come up with me and look at the bridge.”
* * *
“What sort of business can we pretend an interest in as a plausible excuse for a trade mission to Derfhome?” Wilson asked five of his most trusted subordinates.
“I’ve compiled a chart of their principal industries and another of their exports by volume to help us select,” Kirk offered.
“Put it on the wall for all of us then,” Wilson ordered.
They all contemplated it before suggesting anything. Wilson ran very casual meetings and never raced to a conclusion.
“It’s mighty thin,” Eric said after a read through. “Most of the imports are from Fargone rather than us. But that one line item under military equipment. Did they really import nuclear weapons?”
“It’s well documented,” Wilson said. “They bought tactical weapons before their war with us, then they stole a substantial number by capturing our warships. They have continued to buy top of the line Fargone missiles with advanced warheads. In fact, the last public contract for purchase was only a couple of months ago.”
“Who bought them, the ones who fought us, Red Tree clan?” Kirk asked.
“Sort of, the girl the whole thing was about, Lee Anderson was the last buyer. She is a Red Tree clan member although Human. She bought two long-range ship missiles with integrated X-head warheads. Delivery to Derfhome orbit specified. She might have taken delivery of them by now.”
“They sell to individuals?” Kirk asked, incredulous.
“Like ordering a pizza,” Wilson assured him. “She may tip the delivery boy.”
When Eric looked dubious Wilson added, “The Fargoer warheads are somewhat more advanced than ours, especially the X heads. They can steer more beams on target and use a smaller kernel to initiate them. It forces a supercritical mass from a much smaller mass of plutonium than we do, so they are more economical. Rumor is New Japan is running about even with them for nuke tech.”
“Why haven’t we kept up?” Eric asked, horrified.
“Ours still work and it would cost a great deal to do the design work and upgrade. They were building their production facilities from scratch, so it wasn’t any particular expense to go with the next generation designs that are just theoretical to us. It’ll remain cheaper for a long time to use another twenty percent metal in our kernels than to retool. Until we fought Red Tree nobody had used a nuke except to test them in a couple of decades. Our expense was all maintenance and they had to start some fabrication facilities back up to make replacements. A fifty-megaton boom is still the same boom whether it is a sixth-generation device or a seventh-generation device.”
“I suppose they know their customers really well,” Eric said.
“Oh for sure, on a first name, ‘How are the wife and kids?’ level,” Wilson said, with a smile. “Really, we don’t want to draw attention to this mission so they conclude it is a spy mission by looking to deal or inquire about anything military.”
“Then scratch anything to do with metalworking or electronics,” Pamela said. That got a round of nods and more thoughtful reading. “Aren’t you doing a mission to Fargone too? Do we have to come up with something for them too?”
“We are compartmenting that, just like real spies,” Wilson said. “You won’t know each other, and can’t reveal what you don’t know. Just concern yourself with Derfhome.”
“There’s almost no luxury trade,” Todd noted, “a few exotic decorative plants, a few natural scents. A tiny amount of handcrafts like enameled jewelry.”
He expanded the one list. Almost all of those items were exported by three small companies. “We’d create a public fuss to try to break a new exporter into such a small market.”
“Go the other way, sell something into their market instead of an export operation,” Pamela said. “What do they buy from us?” They all looked to the wall screen.
“That’s depressing. Not much at all,” Kirk said, “mostly intangibles like information services and entertainment.”
“The cost of interstellar freight is horrible for anything that isn’t extremely valuable or unique. We will never export soybeans or ground car tires to them,” Wilson said.
“Agriculture and food processing is still their biggest internal industry,” Pamela pointed out. “How about getting a foot in the door with that? Look at American fast food. The awful stuff was franchised in hundreds of other countries where you could still buy real food and made fortunes for all sorts of people. They never shipped the food from North America, they bought it locally. They exported the idea. What do Derf like to eat?”
“I have no idea, but we’ll certainly find out,” Wilson promised.
Chapter 6
“I’m not really sure what we are looking for,” Born admitted.
“Neither am I,” Musical agreed, “but we know the material we’re trying to replicate will display gravitational effects when manipulated the correct way. There are only so many inputs we can try. We can subject it to an electric field, a magnetic field, move it in some fashion or illuminate it with some portion of the spectrum.”
“Or a combination of those,” Born said.
“Well, we know Lee said the acceleration canceling devices in the Central ship made a whining sound of increasing pitch. That suggests there is something in at least one sort of device that spins as do the Badger gravitational devices.”
“Then we should make it easy on ourselves,” Musical suggested. “We have the option of freezing glassy-metal on a spinning cryogenic disk. That’s faster than laying down layers and building up a solid block of material anyway. We can build a safety enclosure with a drive to spin them up and leave our sample on the disk where it was sprayed to test it. I think we can get a centrifuge maker to build us something locally that will fit in our own lab. I’d rather Leonardo didn’t observe our testing.”
“Do you want to try to strip the disks that don’t test out to reuse?” Born asked.
“Not unless we get so many it’s a problem storing them. I bet it would cost almost as much to cut or grind the glassy layer off as making a new disk, and you’d have to make them extra thick so they don’t become too thin to reuse. Some of the material we’ll use would make hazardous dust if we ground it off.”
“Fine, then we need some cabinets, and cheap off-site storage too,” Born said.
“There’s a new commercial warehouse about three kilometers away over the west ridge that will rent lockable rooms,” Musical said. “I wonder if Lee would mind paying the rent for that?”
“She hasn’t been cheap about anything. For something so small I’d just forward the contract to her bank with an explanation and I’m sure she’ll cover it,” Born said.
“You’re right. If she has an accounts manager with them she might never even see it. I bet she gives her personal help as much freedom as us. She’d probably rather not be bothered about a payment that would buy her a nice lunch.”
* * *
Walton was joined by a small Derf nutritionist who had the darkest coat the Foys had ever seen. She wasn’t black, but a deep chocolate brown that would look dead black in low light. She had no customary nickname for dealing with Humans. That surprised Eileen. She’d somehow come to the conclusion there was so much contact between the species everyone would have a short name. Walton corrected her and explained that was even less true of clan Derf than city Derf. The dark female seemed amused and invited them to give her a name if they had a preference, as she didn’t.
Eileen suggested Casimir was appropriate if she liked the sound of it. Upon saying it aloud a couple of times Casimir allowed it rolled off the tongue nicely and accepted it.
Vic was looking up something on his pad, and Eileen didn’t ask what. Undoubtedly he was trying to find the Casimir Eileen chose for a namesake.
The process engineer was bigger so probably a male. He even had a little more excess padding around the middle than was common on Derf. He had and offered a short name of Waller and hurried to explain he hadn’t chosen that to relate to his profession but rather his love of music. It was Vic’s turn to nod that he understood the reference, and Eileen’s turn to be mystified. But she didn’t want to make her ignorance obvious by immediately going to her pad.
“Waller asked to speak to you first about packaging options,” Walton said.
“Just to give you a little historical perspective, Derf used the same preservation methods of salting and drying Humans did. Smoking was not common because our woods tend to be resinous. The woody bushes suitable for smoking are not widespread. Before Human contact, the Derf weren’t big users of glass containers. Clear glass was difficult to make and expensive. Reinforced ceramics were much more common and lighter than the customary ceramics I have seen humans use. Think in terms of fine porcelain, but much tougher. This is because of the differences in our mineral feedstocks.
“Our metallurgy is heavily slanted to copper-based alloys for the same reason, so we had food storage containers of tin coated copper very early. Such containers crimped shut easily and though the copper was relatively expensive recycling it was easy. Since the tin coating didn’t matter in scrap being processed into bronze that was the favored recovery path.
“When Humans came, they of course had their own supplies. We both quickly found out that the metalized plastic films you favor were easily bored through by several sorts of common Derf insect analogs. So we never adapted that packaging.
“Aluminum was known, but as a rare and expensive novelty, not a commercial material. So the human process to produce another soft ductile metal, that we could work with many of the same techniques we used for copper, was very welcome. The mature tech that you evolved from the soda can is just amazing. It’s both unbelievably light and strong. We’ve adapted it to the same sort of food storage we did in copper. Tin lining or no lining works just fine with aluminum, but the addition of plastic and graphene liners has improved them too. Besides the long cylinder form, Derf have used the shorter cylinder that I am told Humans favor for fish, and the rectangular form I understand is favored for small whole fish.”
“Yep, I know what you mean,” Vic said. “The short can is common for tuna fish and the little flat can for sardines. Do you use the pull tab?” Vic asked, mimicking the motion of using such a tab.
“Oh certainly. If anything we can use them easier,” Waller said, and copied Vic’s pantomime but with a single claw daintily extended.
“That looks like it could open an old-fashioned can just fine,” Vic said.
“Indeed it can, but it’s as stupid a trick to attempt as Humans opening a bottle with their teeth,” Waller said. “You can rip a claw tip off and have to file it down shorter. It takes months of favoring it before they match up again. If one claw is short I can’t play piano four-handed very well. It throws my timing off just enough to be really irritating.”
Vic blinked, trying to picture that. The fellow must be able to do a duet single-handed. Well, quad-handed if you wanted to be literal.
“Somebody actually brought a piano to Derfhome?” Eileen asked.
“No, but we got the fabricator files for the parts and assembled one. I understand tuning it the first time was more of a challenge than assembling it. There are six pianos on Derfhome now that I know of, and I’ve played three of them,” Waller said.
“But to get back to our business,” Walton suggested, “Casimir also has information for you and some samples.”
“Capital Provisions makes both storable and short shelf life goods for Humans and Derf,” Casimir explained. “The biggest differences are that Humans have a need for vitamin C, and Derf need a particular stilbene that Derfhome plants use as a protection against our insect analogs. Derf don’t need vitamin C but can tolerate its presence in food at levels that meet Human requirements. On the other hand, many humans find they experience a response similar to antihistamines eating Derf foods with sufficient levels of stilbenes to satisfy Derf nutrition. They experience very dry nasal passages and reduced saliva.
“There are some other specific foods and flavorings with alkaloid analogs which are toxic to Humans, teas in particular. Derf can also tolerate food that has fermented to a point Humans would never be able to tolerate, not only for toxic byproducts but for palatability. There are differences in mineral requirements but they can be met for both species in one product without detracting from flavor.
“Derf like sweet foods over starchy foods and can tolerate levels of carbohydrates Humans can’t long-term without damaging their insulin response. Humans like foods that are saltier than Derf usually care for, but they can tolerate them even if they don’t particularly care for them. For some reason, most Derf get a horrible allergic reaction to Kiwi fruit, and travelers going to Human space are warned of that.”
“We are more interested in emergency provisioning for Humans,” Eileen revealed. “Likely the entire lot would be transported elsewhere but stored here until needed. Thus your warnings about your boring insects are still valid. You’ll find however most of the people from Central and its allies are now heavily gene modified and almost all of them took the opportunity to have a gene edit that gives them the ability to make their own vitamin C.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Casimir said. “Then you can include the C or not as you please. It’s not a significant expense. If you find you must supply the rations to Derf you will need to supplement them with a couple of capsules of stilbenes a day. Then, beyond nutritional necessity, all we need to address are matters of taste. Walton has a number of items for you to taste. Derf have taken to growing Earth sugar beets for sweetener, and we have both maize and wheat available in quantity, but he also has some unique Derf flavors to introduce to you.”
* * *
“I can see why you suggested Casimir instead of Funk,” Vic said back home. “Now I have to research how being in a funk came to be such a negative thing.”
“You’ll probably have to ask them to research in the next dispatch home. We have such a tiny web fraction it’s heavily biased to practical things,” Eileen said.
“Have you reported about the spies we are holding with Lee?” Victor asked. “Heather might send us some better software than the basic stuff I had.”
“I’m waiting until I have a fuller report on the food. By then we may have the basic questions cracked and not need fancy software.”
“Or not need to tell Heather the story at all?” Vic asked. “I wouldn’t suggest that. It might look devious if she found out down the road.”
“It’s not like we are torturing them or anything to hide,” Eileen said, “other than giving them ten-year-old videos to watch.”
“I might give them some of those little black peppers to eat,” Vic warned. “That’s probably considered chemical warfare under the rules of war.”
“Don’t think I didn’t know you were showing off when you took a second devil’s horn pepper and chewed it thoughtfully. They were expecting you to run in circles screaming you know.”
“I know and I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. But those little black seeds were really good. I could see making a strudel roll similar to poppy seed with them.”
“That would fit in a tall can just fine,” Eileen said. “That would be about four servings. For a normal person,” she hastened to add at his expression. I’d drop Walton a message and suggest that as a recipe to develop.”
* * *
“Well I don’t like this at all,” April said.
Heather and Jeff looked up sharply. When April got that tone of voice it usually meant whatever she didn’t like was about to experience a reversal of existence, sometimes by violent disassembly if not outright vaporization.
“What has occasioned your displeasure M’Lady?” Jeff asked.
“The Claims Commission has changed its schedule of payments.”
“Well, yeah. We knew they were going to cut out the smaller states as soon as they refused to step up and meet their obligations,” Jeff said. “No more charity.”
“They are changing the payouts to the explorers,” April clarified. “It’s being presented as a matter of fairness. The payments are far beyond amounts any reasonable person needs and puts too much wealth in the hands of individuals.”
Jeff thought on that a moment. “Do they get more taxes from the corporations?”
“No that would make sense. They get less tax than from small crew explorers, and the small explorers are only about ten percent of the hulls working, but make close to seventeen percent of the significant discoveries,” April said.
“So, unhappy with shooting themselves in the foot with Lee and her fleet, they are now taking aim on the other foot,” Heather said. It seemed to amuse her.
“Apparently it is a matter of social justice. The people who have that sort of wealth and nothing restraining them, such as a board of directors, have been a problem. They not only incite jealousy, but they also have the means to interfere in politics and promote their own causes. There are apparently video series that follow the antics of several explorers. For some reason, their pet projects don’t always match the perceived national interests. Also, the number of explorers from space nations has gone way up compared to those that are Earth citizens,” April said. “They generally don’t get any personal taxes from them, and they spend their cut off Earth.”
“I seem to remember they were returning fifteen percent of the development fees for their protection and blessings. That already seemed a stingy cut to me before. They never had any serious piracy to subdue. What have they cut it to now?” Jeff asked.
“They didn’t cut the percentage,” April said. “I think they are making some effort to look reasonable about it, but they are capping it on the claim holder’s lifetime. You no longer have a claim in perpetuity you can pass to your heirs. Some of the choice early claims look like they will be paying significant fees well into the third generation. Also, they are no longer granting system claims so you can grab mining rights on secondary planets and fuel rights from system gas giants all in one go. You have to spend millions to file separate claims on each item.”
“That looks to me like it is aimed at folks with life-extension,” Jeff said.
“All that will sound reasonable to most Earthies,” Heather said, “however, it misses the most important point. Once they establish something as a source of revenue then it never decreases, it’s just a foot in the door and you can expect they will inch it up a little every time they feel they can get away with it. The rates aren’t actual law of any of the Claims Commission member nations, so some of the protections that would offer aren’t there. They can pretty much change them on a whim.”
Jeff looked up sharply. “Do you think they would repudiate previous awards?”
“They could adjust payout rates,” April said, “far easier than governments have done on occasion for pensions. I think it would be a lot harder to claw back land to which titles are granted.”
“Most explorers have no leverage to object. But I can see a problem if they would try to do that to Lee and her large furry ferocious father,” Jeff said. “They might take their claim back and repossess Providence.”
“It’s a breach of contract. I couldn’t blame them,” Heather agreed. “But there are some explorers without the means to object any other way, who might just decide to put a rock on Vancouver or Beijing.”
“Great… that’s one more thing to worry about,” Jeff said.
* * *
Lee timed her visit back to Red Tree to arrive in time to share a meal with the Mothers. The Mothers would talk business over a meal if there was a need, but they needed a genuine emergency to do so. Lee wanted some time to gauge their mood and calm herself. She was nervous about discussing the spies with her Mothers.
She felt a little less certain of their approval, sitting in front of them, than she had while talking with Eileen and Victor. She’d been pressed for time to call Garrett back then, and now that it was over, and he was relieved of his prisoners safely, it was hard to reconstruct the urgency she’d felt back then. When she had her fill of the meal offerings she pushed her plate to the center of the table so the servers would ignore her.
“Has Garrett been telling you about the baseline we established with the invaders he captured on my ship?” There, that set just the right tone, Lee decided.
“He explained the concept,” the First Mother said. She didn’t seem upset. “It seems like Humans always find a more complicated way to do things. The old champion, William, would have probably cut those two down with no attempt at discussion. Perhaps we set the model for him by negotiation with the North Americans. It appears we may get useful intelligence from them, but I hope he doesn’t hesitate to use the ax another time when hesitating would be fatal.”
“Do you know,” Lee said, surprised at that turn in the conversation, “I had a very similar discussion with Gordon about not taking too long to over-think it when it comes time to launch those missiles I bought.”
“Good, we’re glad to hear it,” the First Mother said.
The other Mothers nodded too.
“Garrett explained the concept of a lie-detector, and that the same things can be observed with remote sensing. Of course, any smart person with a little experience in life does similar things. But not down to the level of analyzing a whole list of words, even the response to words spoken by others. I’m sure we could do the same for Derf, but I hesitate to do so. It seems distrustful and invasive.”
“Not all Humans inventions have brought them happiness,” Lee admitted. “But they are like things said, once loose you can’t pull them back. We did learn the spies were working for Earth, not Fargone, and the Fargoers were pretty upset to hear that. I think they’d have been happier to find they were just home-grown criminals.”
“But do you know which faction on Earth?” the Second Mother asked.
“We had conflicting signals. Victor is pretty smart. I think what he decided is correct. One man was working for North America, but betraying them for pay to the Europeans. The other man was working for the North Americans, but his real loyalty was to a strange religious cult in China, not the Chinese government nominally in power.”
“Nothing is ever simple,” the Third Mother complained.
“Especially with Earth Humans,” the First echoed.
“The Foys don’t think they will get any more useful details, and are wondering how they should dispose of them,” Lee said. “They are depressed, and endless captivity is cruel. Fargone passed on having a turn at extracting any more from them.”
“Well, I know enough about Humans now to guess just shooting spies out of hand as proven enemies would probably upset some of them,” The First Mother said.
“Some,” Lee agreed. “Eileen is opposed to that. Vic sees it pretty much like a Derf. He’d release them but be artistic about it.”
“No, making a harsh public example of them would be as bad as execution.”
“No, no, nothing like that. He rattled off three or four examples. The man can think up new things far faster than he can say them. I remember the last best. He suggested dressing them in funny period clothing from the mid or late twentieth century United States, putting some period money in their pockets and dropping them off in Australia.”
The Mothers all looked back and forth amongst themselves and cracked up.
“He is a trickster!” the Third Mother said.
“He has a very strange sense of humor,” Lee agreed.
“Then so do we,” the First Mother said. She didn’t take offense at all.
“I can’t start to predict how that would work out,” Lee said. “They might talk their way back to their masters or they might get locked up in the local insane asylum if they tried to tell the truth. I’m not sure anybody would believe anything they said.
“That’s the beauty of it,” the First Mother said. She was nodding like she was agreeing with Lee. “You think the Mothers are all about stability and order, but the sameness of it all gets to us sometimes. So that’s our sense of humor when we dare unleash it, sowing chaos! Tell Victor to ‘dispose’ of them as he pleases. I knew there was something I liked about that fellow.”
That put the Mothers in a good mood, and they ordered a fancy dessert brought out to share. Lee enjoyed it and let them settle down before she spoke again.
“I’m going to take my new ship on a shake-down cruise to Providence,” Lee informed the Mothers. “Do you have anything you need taken to your survey crew or anything brought back?”
“We are supplying their food,” the First Mother said. “Part of their survey is to find what local items are edible and do some test plantings of our own things. They have identified some local plants, but so far nothing in the way of local animals are edible. They are trying out several Derf crops as well as some Earth items, but we are being very cautious about introducing invasive species with which the local organisms can’t compete. We really regret introducing Earth swine to Derfhome and don’t want to repeat that mistake. They are nowhere near being able to support themselves locally.
“If you could take some field rations to them that would be helpful, dear. They took supplies for a year with them, and they have only been gone a bit more than a half year, but better to stay ahead of their needs than run short. We have some things they will appreciate as a taste of home, but I will put an order into our supplier of preserved rations in Derfhome, Capital Provisions. They weren’t expected to report back so soon, but I’m sure they will have maps and reports for you to bring back already. I imagine they have filled out a lot of detail to the satellite surveys.
“I have a young fellow on an agricultural track who has been petitioning us to go to Providence,” the First Mother said. “I’m afraid if we don’t send him, he’s going to walk away and go to town. He’s a really bright cub, if a bit pushy, and we’d like to retain him. If you could take him along that would be a kindness, to both of us. If any of the team there are unhappy and want to exchange with him, bring one back, please. If not, I’m sure they will find work to keep six busy.”
Lee nodded and struggled to keep from grinning. The fact the mothers were breaking down and making any kind of accommodation to keep good people from going to town and forsaking clan life thrilled her. She and Gordon worked for that quietly and behind the scenes, not wanting to provoke any sort of open conflict.
“Do they have a sat phone so we can tell them we are coming when we get to the station and it’s a local call?” Lee asked.
“It never occurred to us to give them one,” the First Mother said.
Lee thought of all the possibilities of injury and need a survey team on an isolated island could encounter but said nothing. It wasn’t much different than the hunting parties the clan sent out every fall. They were just on their own for months. But it didn’t have to be that way now. She hoped they didn’t avoid giving them a phone for fear they’d become accustomed to having it and expect it back home.
“I’ll leave one with them,” Lee said, not asking permission. “It would be so much more convenient if we could call them from orbit next time before showing up and know if they needed particular items before we get all the way out to their site.”
She didn’t even mention the safety aspects for fear she’d lose her temper. The Mothers didn’t object, probably because she presented it as being for her convenience. They didn’t even ask for her to supply them the com codes.
“We have four Derf sized seats we can switch in or out with the Human-sized ones. I’ll have them switch out one of the rears for your guy. There’s already one in the front for Gordon,” Lee said.
“How will you get out to the island from the spaceport?” the Third Mother asked.
“We’ll take a commercial shuttle down and buy or rent transport that will reach the island. I have no idea what is available, but it’s a class A world undergoing early development, so there must be a ton of options. I may not be able to haul your goods out in the same vessel, but we’ll hire that too. They aren’t delicate, so if we need them to be airdropped that’s fine too. How did your survey team go to the island?
“We gave them an ample letter of credit and trusted them to make local arrangements,” the Second Mother said. “There wasn’t that much detail in the Claims Commission prospectus. Since they didn’t get back to us we assume they didn’t find any problem with which they couldn’t deal.”
Lee was torn between seeing that as being very complimentary to the Mothers trust in their people and being depraved indifference. They could micro-manage the pickiest little things in the Keep, and yet send a crew off to act independently. If she could ever figure out which way they would act at any given moment it would be a real gift.
“You intend this vessel as a diplomatic courier, correct?” The First Mother asked.
Lee answered very carefully. The Mothers could be sensitive of their prerogatives and wouldn’t hesitate to rebuke her if she overstepped.
“Yes, if you call me to serve again, I’ll use it that way. I feel the need of my own ship, and I can’t keep asking the loan of the Sharp Claws every time I act for you. But it’s only a diplomatic vessel when I have an assignment. I would only declare it to traffic control or sovereign states as a diplomatic vessel when an ambassador or voice is using it for official business. It would be overstepping to declare special status and expect special clearance for something like a personal visit to Fargone to visit my home there.”
“Your personal modesty is exemplary,” the First Mother allowed, “but I’m less willing than you to expect people to make such a distinction. Better not to confuse them. In a critical situation, they may hesitate to treat you correctly if you’ve appeared to them before as a private vessel. Better to be consistent in how you present yourself with the majority of people who unfortunately are either shallow thinkers or officious. If a situation like these spies targeting you happens again, maybe a clear status will be a protection. If it lets you get an occasional perk traded off our reputation we shall not begrudge it of you. Present yourself as our Voice as you go about all your business so they are accustomed to treating you that way.”
“That is generous of you. I will be especially careful of my behavior since it will reflect on your reputation as well as my own.”
The Second Mother laughed. “If we ever need to appoint a minister of propriety, we’ll free you from your other duties for the post.”
The other two looked amused too.
Lee wasn’t sure if they were complimenting her or reproving her as too strict.
“Here, we were saving this until we had another assignment for you,” the First Mother said. “But take it now.”
She tossed a square rod sized to fit Lee’s hand across the table. It looked very much like the seal the Mothers sent with her to negotiate with Central but smaller. That seal was yellow with age and stained on the end from making inked impressions. This one was crème colored and polished, but it was the fresh polish of something buffed to a satin finish by a craftsman. The other older one she’d used had the patina of being handled by a hundred generations until it was as smooth as glass.
“A copy?” Lee asked. That would make sense. She’d wondered what they would do if they needed their seal while she was away carrying it. Even as safe as ships were now it made Lee nervous to be carrying an irreplaceable historic artifact off-planet.
“No, a new thing,” the First Mother said. “Can you read the inscription yet? Have you gotten that far along, or do you just have spoken Derf?”
The writing was fancy, not like machine printing and a bit harder to read. It was engraved in a recess in the material and stained. Lee thought the old seal was bone, but this made her rethink that.
“This side is my name!” Lee said, shocked.
“Almost,” the First Mother agreed. “But that symbol at the end means the first.”
Lee rolled it over and read the opposite side.
“I can read Voice, but that’s all,” Lee admitted.
“It names you first Voice for Red Tree to other peoples. We debated our word for species, but we don’t really speak to the wild creatures, so people it is. We don’t have a word that translates well for race. That gets so misused in English that some might claim long and short-haired Derf are different races. Two sides are blank so if you need to pass it to a successor or some significant event needs to be noted it can be added. Our seal is to deal with other clans, and now with the trade cities and businesses. This sort of seal wasn’t needed in the past when we didn’t know other thinking people, but there is need of it now.
“If you are going to go about in public as our Voice, even when you don’t have a mission assigned, you should have a symbol of office. If something or someone requires you to assert that authority for us, you have this as proof, even to those who do not know us yet. Who knows what or who you will run into on your travels?”
Lee clutched the little carving against her breast and quietly wept.
“I am not unhappy,” she choked out.
“We would not mistake it for that,” the Third Mother assured her.
* * *
“I see something that might work as a cover operation,” Pamela told Undersecretary Wilson at their next meeting, “the Derf like sweet flavors. They have some naturally sweet crops themselves, but nothing that lends itself to large scale efficient production.
“They have adapted the sugar beet but have resisted adapting sugar cane because it might become invasive. But take a look at their imports and what they spend for honey.”
“Wow, why didn’t that jump out at us?” Wilson asked. “They spend more to import honey than any other foodstuff, almost as much as information services or electronics.”
“I’m going to make an assumption here, that I need to research,” Pamela said. “I’d bet the Derf heard insect and couldn’t imagine they could import bees without the same risk of them going invasive that they worried about with sugar cane.”
“Actually, I’d have assumed the same thing myself,” Wilson admitted. “They’re little, they fly. It seems like once you let a bunch of them loose you’d never get them all back. To add to the horror of the whole thing, they sting.”
“That’s because you have no idea about their biology or the art of beekeeping. Since I saw these numbers I’ve learned more about bees and beekeeping than I ever wanted to know. I was also careful to ascertain that besides introduced Earth plants, there are flowering plants that have what passes for nectar on Derfhome as well. If the bees will accept them and thrive is something we’d simply have to try. That doesn’t mean I want to get anywhere near them personally. But to make a long, complicated, story short, they don’t reproduce outside the hive. If you control the hive you have full control of them. The only way you’d have them get loose is when an entire hive splits and a new hive swarms out with a new queen who does all the reproduction.”
Wilson looked skeptical. “And how do you control that? Put a cork in it?”
“Basically yeah, but we can do it in a little more sophisticated way. By keeping all the hives separated from each other inside a building, with access to the outside through a controlled port. There are clear signs a hive is getting ready to swarm and when they show that is near you shut off their access to the outside and give them access to another hive you have prepared for them. They make spray cans of attractant pheromones. You give the new hive a little shot of that and the scout bees know right where to go.
“Indeed, I have been assured that even if one escaped, a beekeeper can find a hive in the wild by offering honey to steal and triangulating the hive position from their flight path. An experienced beekeeper can monitor each hive with internal cameras and sensors. Indeed, that will be his primary job. He can get helpers for other things.”
“And nobody else has figured this out?” Wilson asked.
“Apparently not, and I can see why. The industry has become increasingly difficult. They’ve had to maintain quality and production while the natural habitat on Earth has declined, and the nature of farming changed in ways unfavorable to them. Why should they ruin one of their best-paying markets by exporting production?” Pamela said.
“But we’ll be destroying that market if we succeed,” Kirk pointed out. “People will get upset with us even if it isn’t a huge industry.”
“That’s why we’ll do it as a private venture,” Eric said. “We have no logical reason to do it as an official trade mission. We’ll launder the funds and send you as a private business. The amount involved will be easy to cover. I could never say so publicly, but I buy honey for my mother as a gift. It’s ridiculously expensive. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings to see a little price drop on increased local supply.”
“Don’t ask me to go,” Todd said. “I’m allergic. I got stung as a kid and almost died.”
“No problem,” Wilson said. “We’ll send our associate who has studied up and is the most familiar with bees.”
“I already figured out I was volunteering if I proposed the idea,” Pamela said.
Chapter 7
“The actual bare disks will spin up to three hundred thousand RPM with a good safety margin,” Born said. “The material we deposit has to be mechanically locked to the surface by the machining marks. So it will deliberately have a rough finish. If we deposit too thick a layer it may creep or even strip off when spun up. But the containment is designed to hold a failed disk and make cleaning the fragments out fairly easy.”
“It looks like a heavy-duty washing machine,” Musical said. “At least it doesn’t take up much room like the other machine.”
“I have a supply cabinet on order to hold the current run of disks we’re testing right next to the machine,” Born said, pointing out the spot.
“You’re not going to fit much more in here,” Musical warned.
“That’s why I rented the storage room,” Born said.
* * *
The young Derf the Mothers sent her was so small Lee thought him a female at first glance. The more she looked though, there were hints in the shape of his face and body that he simply didn’t have his full growth. Likewise, his enthusiasm was a sign of his youth. He showed up at her door this morning, the same day they were to lift, after an early morning plane ride. That was probably so the Mothers could save the cost of a room for him overnight. She had their hospitality at the Keep. Lee wondered if they would really be shy to claim the same favor and impose a house guest on her?
Not that he seemed tired from his flight. He was simply raving about being allowed to go off world. Lee hoped he would run down a little after they actually lifted. It could get a bit wearing if he stayed that hyper the whole way. Lee didn’t see his enthusiasm as pushy, but she could see how the Mothers would find it that way in short order.
He had a name picked for dealing with Humans, Mike, although the only Human he really knew was Gwen, the vet who Gordon provided to Red Tree clan. Gwen brought modern Human medicine to the clan in a much more acceptable way than Human MDs.
When asked who was his namesake was, he explained that he just like the sound of the name and didn’t have anyone in mind. After thinking on it, Lee realized he had little access to human history and culture living at the Keep to have picked a namesake human. That was different than the usual custom, but Lee didn’t see how she could fault it. Humans were often unacquainted with namesakes from very specialized professions or obscure historical figures anyway.
At least Mike didn’t embarrass them when they took a commercial shuttle up to Derfhome station. He either used up all his enthusiasm on her this morning, or had more sense than she’d expected him to possess about how to act in public. To Lee’s relief, He settled right down when Gordon swung by in an auto-cab and picked them up. You might have thought he’d taken the shuttle to Derfhome station a dozen times. Gordon hadn’t seen Mike’s enthusiasm this morning before they met up to lift. Lee decided it would be unkind to mention it. It seemed to be a one-time display of youthful nervousness that might needlessly make Gordon distrust him.
The Kurofune was docked at Derfhome station for the convenience of loading the Mothers’ freight. Lee had one of the shipbuilders dock it a day earlier to facilitate the transfer. Red Tree had a couple of tribe members on station duty to supervise loading and maintain a lock guard on it until they arrived. It was worth the docking fee not to waste a day to deal with it.
Lee was just as happy not to have to deal with not only their freight, but getting Mike aboard in zero-g. The Kurofune hung nose to the station vertically with much less convenient access than a big ship, but still easier than dealing with a floundering newbie who'd never been in a suit before. There would be plenty of time for him to learn a minimal proficiency along the way.
They stopped at a snack bar and got a couple of cups of coffee for the Red Tree Derf watching their hatch. Lee knew if she tried to tip them cash money they would refuse, but she had yet to have a worker refuse a big coffee with honey and cinnamon. They chatted a bit to establish nothing unusual had happened during their watch. There hadn't been any attempts to gain entry or too close an interest in their dock space.
Lee would expect them to report any irregularities but stopping to chat encouraged that. It showed she didn't regard them as menials who could be ignored and respected their work. The older of the two looked surprised and then pleased to see Mike with them. He was kind enough not to make remarks about how he knew him when he was knee-high.
Gordon formally released them from guard duty, informing them they would take the ship out now after doing an inspection and checklist. When they were inside Gordon informed Lee he would check spaces and stores. She was invited to check their freight was secure 'If you please'. Such official courtesy was a command idiom Gordon had adapted from Human custom.
Lee gave Mike a come-along tilt of her head. He not only picked up on that gesture but gave an acknowledging nod without being asked. That was pretty encouraging. He just might fit in the ship's routine fairly smoothly.
"You don't have to slide down the ladder like I do," Lee told him. "It's something you can learn how to do eventually to save time, but we're not in any great ripping hurry if you want to take hold of the rungs and go slower today."
Lee just cupped her hands on the sides and slid down the ladder, feet rolled in a little to put the hollow of her instep against the rail just like her hands. Mike decided to go the safer slower way for now. She explained what she was looking for when she examined the way their freight was secured. Most of the foam boxes bore the Capital Provisions Logo behind a shrink wrap holding them on a lightweight pallet. A web net over it was fastened to the deck.
The items the Mothers sent from Red Tree worried Lee more. Per her instructions, the pallets with the home-made goods had an additional plastic bag over each pallet load to contain any leakage from burst containers. Lee just wasn’t sure the packers at the Keep understood how ship’s freight got handled.
For Mike, Lee used it as a teaching moment to detail the sort of forces their freight might experience and contrasted that with other items they might need to carry, She pointed out some of the unused deck dogs and strap binders stored in the compartment and discussed how those might be used.
Going back up to the command deck, Lee showed off a little. The life-extension treatments she'd gotten while visiting Central and Home in the Earth system included some other functional gene mods. She was both faster and stronger than the average Human and went up the ladder like a monkey.
Gordon was already strapped in the commander's chair. Lee made sure Mike was belted correctly in his second-row seat and moved up to her seat beside Gordon.
"We're stocked sufficiently and alone," Gordon informed Lee.
"OK, that's the first thing you've said that I don't understand," Mike said. "What do you mean, 'We're alone'. Why wouldn't we be?" he asked.
"I never undock before I've checked every cabin and storage area big enough to hide a person or a body. You might find other stuff stashed away too, although you can’t search every small cabinet and drawer without need. In a larger ship, I might assign a trustworthy officer to conduct the search, but it is never skipped in my command."
"Even though you had guards on the ship?" Mike asked, surprised.
"Yes, somebody might have hidden aboard before they were in place, even in this small a vessel. All sorts of people had access to the ship when it was in final finishing, and when it was brought over to the station. Once here we had people bring the dedicated stores aboard. There are things like soap and sani-wipes, bedding and staples for the galley. We intend to keep a month’s worth of supplies as a base. There was another supplier of fresh food, who stocked the larder for us with about three weeks of stuff like coffee and sandwich fixings. Lastly, the Mothers’ supplies for the survey team were stowed. A lot of people were in and out of her. People contrive to be left behind. There aren’t sensors in every locker and cubby, and you might be shocked how small of a space a Human like Lee can fit into.”
“There’s even a special word for it in English,” Lee said, “stowaway.”
“It would have never occurred to me to attempt such a thing,” Mike said, amazed.
“There’s a history of it going back to the days of sailing ships,” Lee said. “On Earth, my cousin told me people crawl up the landing gear and stow away on aircraft, even though it kills lots of them. If you hang around Spacers, and our crew from the Little Fleet in particular, you’ll become familiar with all the ways in which people stowaway, smuggle, hide stills, gambling equipment and other sources of amusement, divert supplies and manage to transport their own goods to trade at various ports of call. You’ll find that even among Derf, the level of obedience to regulations never approaches the level the Mothers maintain in a clan keep. The Fargoers make it an art form, and my friend Talker assures me it is the same among both the Badgers and Bills.”
“I see,” Mike said. His tone, however, said he didn’t see and disapproved. He was obviously scandalized. Even Lee could tell.
“I have a clear systems board,” Gordon said. “Let me get clearance to drop off and start a jump run and we will have plenty of time to talk.”
Lee and Mike listened. It was interesting chatter, and Gordon named Lee as an apprentice pilot, but still his number two.
Once the ship was following his flight program, Gordon looked back over his shoulder, concerned. “This flight you’re just with the two of us and no crew. I have no idea who may give you a lift back home when your tour is over. It might be a big ship like the Retribution. Let me give you a little advice. If you are obsessively obedient that’s your business, however, if you see little actions among the crew that aren’t by the book but won’t endanger the ship or get it in trouble with the port – mind your own business. In particular, don’t go running to the Master or an officer and report it like a good little boy. They likely are aware of it and won’t thank you for making them either officially notice it and clamp down, or publicly give it a pass.”
“I’m having a hard time with that,” Mike admitted. “That puts me in the position of trying to excuse myself later if there is loss or damage because of the rule breaking and I didn’t report it. If regulations are too restrictive then the rules should be fixed.”
“Sweet screaming little gods on fire, you should have been an Earth lawyer!”
Mike was wide-eyed at Lee’s outburst. “I respect your strong reaction is sincere, but you have to explain it much more for me to understand why.”
Lee sucked in a long breath, and tried to compose herself. Gordon found his screen of sudden interest again and left her to her own devices to defend her stance.
“Have you ever found any of the Mothers’ directions uncomfortably restrictive?”
“I’d rather not be critical of them to others,” Mike said.
Gordon looked over his shoulder, with narrowed eyes, all pretense of reading his screen gone.
“A barracks lawyer and a potential politician,” he accused the young Derf.
“Aren’t the Mothers politicians too?” Mike asked.
“Yes, but you might be as careful about saying what kind of politicians,” Gordon counseled. “Indeed, just the wrong tone of voice saying the word might forever damage your standing with them far more than arguing policy. Young Lee here has contended with them over major issues, over how they dealt with outsiders, and got a good hearing. But she never once hinted they might put personal issues over the good of the clan.”
“I don’t think they would either,” Mike told Gordon, “but I do think everything they decide assumes their continuing to be in tight control is necessary for the good of the clan before everything else. I don’t want to challenge that. I just want to be out from under their thumb myself. I’m pretty sure the way I’m leaving is less disruptive to everybody, and much easier than the way you had to leave, just walking off without any support or idea how you’d make a go of it. It had to be hard, and it took a long time to make anything of yourself, didn’t it?”
“It was pretty rough,” Gordon admitted. “I didn’t eat well or often for some time. I had to go through a series of menial jobs until I had some experience to offer people.”
“Was it hard to mend the breach with the Mothers and get back in their good graces after just walking away?” Mike asked with no subtlety at all.
“If you send them a few hundred thousand dollars Ceres each time you get a payout from an exploration claim and then bring them a couple captured space ships when you make war for them they tend to forget any small slights they felt years ago.”
Mike nodded, looking intense. “I’m going to get experience very much like the crew of an exploration company doing a detailed survey of a new world. Then, if I want to walk off either there or back on Derfhome I’ll have something to offer a ship’s company. I’m sure I’ll get to do a little bit of everything in a crew of six. Setting up camp and tearing it back down, map making and site survey, collecting and classifying specimens. That’s what you two did on this world we’re going to isn’t it?”
“It is, but we just made a start on it and my parents got killed one night and we had to withdraw with a very sketchy survey,” Lee said. “If they give you a chance to be the camp cook, I very much recommend gaining that skill.”
“Thank you,” he said, obviously surprised at her advice.
“We’re of a similar age,” Lee guessed, “or at least a similar stage of development. It’s true I’ve argued policy with the Mothers. The difference being I’ve seen other worlds, other races, and other cultures. I spent time in jail on Earth and lived with relatives who depended on negative tax charity to exist in a horrible, horrible, demeaning political system. I’d rather live with the Badgers than other Humans on Earth. You know the defects and shortcomings of Red Tree, but let me tell you, there are much worse places to live than under the Mothers’ thumb. Before you think to sweep the clan system away, without carefully considering what would replace it, you need to travel and work and see how much worse it is other places.”
“I think maybe you read too much into my wanting to leave,” Mike objected. “I don’t see myself ever having the means to change how the Mothers run things. Most folks seem happy with it anyhow. I just want to go off and try other things myself.”
“You sounded like you might be a budding revolutionary,” Lee said. “That’s something I’ve been terrified might happen if the clans and the trade towns don’t come to some sort of accommodation with each other. We’ve been very encouraged the Mothers have reached out to the Central and Badger embassies. In fact, sending you off to work for the clan instead of leaving you no choice but to walk to town like Gordon had to do seems like a very positive step to us.”
“This way they get some use out of me,” Mike said. “I knew a couple of the others in the survey group. I sort of figured we were all being sent off where we couldn’t make trouble and still be useful.”
“Australia,” Gordon said, cryptically. They both looked at him with no comprehension at all.
“The British had a worldwide empire and sent off criminals and trouble-makers halfway around the world to Australia. It was cheaper than keeping them in prisons and had the benefit of opening up a strange continent where everything seemed bent on killing them. It was full of deserts with poisonous creepy-crawlies and snakes.”
“It’s frustrating, Gordon knows Human history better than me,” Lee said.
“It’s pretty smart if they came up with a similar solution all on their own,” Gordon said. “I don’t think the Mothers know much more Human history than you do.”
Lee had a sudden realization. Her mouth formed a brief O of surprise, then she clamped it back shut, but not before Gordon saw it.
“What is that burnt smell? Are you overloading the logic circuits again?” Gordon asked. Mike had no clue what the byplay meant.
“I might have done something stupid,” Lee admitted.
“Again?” Gordon asked.
Lee nodded, suddenly shy. The fact she would admit such a thing so freely was more instructive to Mike than anything they had said before. It displayed amazing trust.
“I asked the Mothers if they left the survey crew a satellite phone. They said it never occurred to them. I said I’d take one to them so we could arrange things easier. Silly me, I thought it was an oversight, or they didn’t want to let the crew get used to the luxury of having a phone because they’d expect it back home.”
“But you’re changing your mind now?” Gordon asked.
“Yeah, what if the Mothers didn’t leave them so isolated because they were cheap like I was too quick to think? What if they were welcoming a little distance between them as Mike suggested, and you sort of inferred too?”
“Did they all facepalm, and say ‘Why didn’t we think of that?’ right away?”
“They just ignored it. I was kind of irritated they didn’t at least ask me to share the com code once they had a phone,” Lee said.
“I predict, if you never bring the matter up again, neither will they,” Gordon said.
“Yes, but if I give them the phone like I planned I may open the whole can of worms again,” Lee worried.
“Just give them the phone and invite them to call you,” Mike said. “If the codes to reach the Mothers via commercial drone are on the phone wipe them. I bet they never ask for them. I sure wouldn’t. They didn’t volunteer to come all this way hoping the Mothers would call up and start micro-managing them. Believe me, none of them want to explain to the mothers why they incurred charges for interstellar messages.”
Gordon regarded him anew. “You know, you may not be as dumb as you look.”
Mike took that for high praise coming from Gordon and just nodded his thanks.
* * *
Wilson handed Pamela a document folder with her mission statement and authorizations. It was plastered with warning stickers and filing codes. The zipper had a seal across it with the copy number 3 repeated. The original agency file 0 would be archived, and Wilson would have number 1. Pam would put this in her safe of course, not take it to Derfhome. The agency thumb drive Wilson gave her was keyed to her DNA and could be safely taken on her mission, as it was impossible to alter or add to it. Changes and additions would need to be done on copies kept in a secure environment.
Wilson had to read her the primary header by department policy and law. They were sitting and he read it in a bit of a sing-song voice as fast as he could get it out of the way.
Document key, approval date, initiation date, authorization tree, classification level, copy numbers, event response and reasoning details, document preparer, routing and handling, encryption keys, as well as line items for things like that had not happened yet but might in the future such as reviews, declassification and attachment of other documents and images. Finally, he read off the number of lines in the document and that no errors were listed.
“Here are your funding credentials, travel documents, and a credit card. Your keys for making reports and your cover bible. Most of that is true, as far as having worked for the department. What you did for the department is not detailed in your cover story since the public can’t very well check that. I’m sending Kirk Fuldheim as your subordinate. He will have slightly different duties than you, but be required to explain his actions in detail, and can only appeal home if he feels your orders completely negate his portion of the mission. I’m of the opinion you aren’t friendly with Kirk and perhaps not vise-versa, but he has analytical talents you will utilize regardless of how you regard each other’s personalities. This is an excellent opportunity for both of you. The department never has enough people fit to conduct fieldwork, even less so for off-planet assignments. I have every confidence you will be successful,” Wilson said, wrapping it up.
It was almost like the affirmation that her father taught her a good salesman gave a customer after a deal was sealed Pamela thought.
* * *
“We see a thrust on this disk when we put a radial electric field on it.”
“That’s interesting, add it to the list of things observed to investigate, but it isn’t what we are looking for, to get sidetracked with it,” Musical insisted.
“Well, it’s still an effect nobody has demonstrated before,” Born said.
“Yes, it has an unusual symmetry, but what can you do with it?” Musical asked.
“You could build an electric motor from it,” Born said.
“More efficient than what we already have?” Musical demanded.
“Well, no, not really.”
“With some unusual shape we can’t do right now?” Musical asked further.
“Not that I can see,” Born admitted.
“We’ll have years of things like this to research, but spin it down, ground it out, and let’s see what it does with a magnetic field,” Musical said.
It took a few minutes to come to rest and Born watched through the observation port to make sure the grounding contact touched the shaft and withdrew.
“High voltage discharge is retracted. Magnet coils positioned and locked down,” Born reported. “Spinning it up to 100k rpm. You ready to activate at base rpm?”
“Yep, recorders running, the magnet will put a five-tesla field across the disk for a full turn. If nothing interesting shows we’ll double the spin and charge up for a 50T field. You didn’t forget and leave your phone in your pocket again did you?”
“No, once was expensive enough to teach me,” Musical said.
“OK. Up to speed, activating magnet,” Born said.
There was deafening > BANG <, the top of the centrifuge containment bulged, and a cloud of flour fine concrete dust slowly descended from the ceiling. They both turned to run without needing to discuss it. The Derf, Born, being massive turned slower, but caught up with the Badger in a few long steps and scooped him off his feet from behind like a toddler, not even breaking his stride. Having an extra set of arms also let the Derf close the door behind him so quickly that just a few wisps of chalky dust followed them into the hall. Once there he stood uncertain what he needed to do next.
“Thank you, but you can put me down now,” Musical said.
“Oh, sure,” Born agreed, flustered and embarrassed at his indecision. Despite the swift exit he still managed to pick up a fine dusting of concrete on his head.
“I suggest you lock the door so nobody can nose around in our absence if the noise disturbed them. Let’s go to your quarters to clean up, and then maybe go get some lunch to kill time and allow the dust to settle out before we go back in,” Musical suggested sensibly. He took his top garment off and used it to disperse the few tattle-tale lines of white dust by the closed door.
“We’ll get some of that rubbery stuff the custodians sprinkle on the floor to keep dust down when sweeping,” Born suggested.
“Yeah, sweeping compound, buy a big drum of it and some paper masks. I’ll have to go by my embassy to get a few for me,” Musical said. “Neither Derf nor human masks fit me worth a damn. You agree then we should keep this quiet if we can?”
“Certainly, I can’t imagine any way it would make us look good, even though we know it’s a major break-through. Let’s clean it up ourselves,” Born agreed.
When the two researchers came back there was a fine layer of white dust settled on everything and a small hole in the ceiling. It still wasn’t possible to get directly below it to see if it went through. They shuffled in slowly wearing the paper masks and shoe covers the salesman for the sweeping compound recommended to them. Spreading the crumbly compound moistened with aromatic oils, they tried not to stir the dust up. “We need to brush everything from the top down before we try to sweep it up,” Born said. “After we have the bulk of it bagged up we can get a vacuum in here for the last little bit, but it would just cake up and clog the filter trying to suck up this much before sweeping.”
“You have compressed air. After a good vacuuming, we need to blow off the tops of the lighting fixtures and cabinet tops to get what doesn’t brush off easily. Then blow it out the open windows and wet mop the whole place to finish. It’s going to take both of us a full day’s work to clean it thoroughly,” Musical decided.
“This looks so promising,” Musical said, seeing discovery in the wrecked equipment where others would have seen only disaster and expense. “We need to make a couple more samples of this material.”
“Yes, but it’s going to be a couple of weeks before we can get an upper bearing assembly and housing for the centrifuge from Fargone and install it. It wouldn’t surprise me if the bottom one is ruined too. I’m just glad we don’t have anybody occupying a floor above us,” Born said, looking up and imagining all sorts of possible disasters.
“We’ll improvise and get some more data before then. That’s weird,” Musical said, pointing. “There isn’t anything on the bottom end. You’d think whatever effect it was would propagate both ways. Do you have a key to the roof? I’d like to see if the hole goes all the way through.”
“I do, but let’s take some sealant to close it up at least temporarily,” Born said. “I believe it’s finished off with gravel up there and we can rake some over to cover up.”
“You won’t just let maintenance take care of that for you?”
“They would never just accept a hole needing to be plugged without demanding how it got there. I can’t even explain this one to them since I have no idea what did it, and I’m not very good at making up lies simple enough for them to understand. You’d think it was their own home paid for out of their purse when you bust something and ask for a repair. They act like we are renters. They’re liable to tell us our experiments are too dangerous to run in this building and cause all kinds of trouble with the administration. They just have no sense of humor if you catch the place on fire, blow out a wall or,” he said, looking up at the hole, “something.”
Chapter 8
Pamela Harvac wasn’t comfortable being a spy. That wasn’t what she signed up for when she was recruited to State. She blamed her discomfort on her mother’s strict upbringing and attending religious schools. All her life having a secret was presumed by both to be a sign of ill intent if not outright sin.
It was irritating too. They wouldn’t need to go snooping around if the agencies charged with spying would take direction to gather intelligence for them, or even share what they already had. To talk with any of them you’d think they were the enemy to even ask for data on commercial matters. Who were they serving after all?
Her boss Wilson sent the little toad Kirk along with her. He had no such scruples. In fact, Pamela wondered why he wasn’t employed by one of the secret agencies instead of State. He was good with numbers. In fact, if pressed she would admit he was very good, and able to apply those number to real-world analyses better than most.
She still certainly expected him to challenge her authority as soon as they were out of com range of Secretary Wilson and perhaps make an ass of himself in other ways. He wouldn’t be the first she’d met who thought himself God’s great gift to womankind.
Instead, he’d meekly kept his mouth shut when introduced to the ship’s officers and didn’t presume upon her privacy or personal space when they were assigned a two bunk room. Spacers had no sense of decency, and the purser had just blinked like it didn’t compute for a second when informed that she and Kirk were not partners and she asked if separate cabins were available.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have separate accommodations for your subordinate,” he said, missing the point that it wasn’t about class at all. “We are a freighter primarily with very limited space for both passengers and crew. The other cabin is occupied by a married couple who would reasonably object to being split up, and it is impractical to trade him off with any crew who need to work shifts that would disturb you. They are all working Spacers and I doubt you’d judge any of them your peers. I’m not available to bunk with you,” he said, with an amused little smile. He didn’t even specify female crew. It didn’t take long before she found out that of the five Spacers aboard none were female anyhow, and only the captain had a tiny private cabin.
The cabin itself surprised her. It was compact of necessity but luxurious beyond her expectations. The bunk was not cramped and infinitely adjustable with its own temperature controls and adjustable vents. It had multimedia outlets and the ability to use an overhead screen if you wanted to read in bed or watch environmental scenes to music. The shared bath was tiny but entirely comfortable and not metered. Everything was of soft or textured surfaces and the lighting subtle and indirect.
In North America right now both of them could be charged with a felony for sharing a cabin unmarried. Pamela had never been outside the Solar System, but she could read people well enough to see that she would simply amuse the Captain if she cited North American law to him. She did know Spacers in her own Solar System openly mocked a lot of North American decency laws such as the prohibition on shorts and short sleeves. Despite her agency position, Pamela was not experienced enough to consider there might be a range of custom and law among Spacers beyond her home system. The media that bombarded her daily presented Spacers as a uniform bloc, and not at all nice people, so she had nothing to inform her differently. He would be perfectly justified in pointing out they were a Fargone ship and subject to both Fargoer law and custom underway so she dropped her objection.
It was an error and failure as head of mission that she hadn’t researched Fargone law before boarding a Fargone vessel. A measure of that simply reflected official contempt for other law. Finding it really did affect her was a first prod to pay attention to how others live. The ship must carry a web fraction that would enlighten her to some degree. She intended to study that as well as expand her knowledge of Derfhome while they were in transit from the slightly different perspective the Fargoer web fraction would paint things.
There was a self-serve galley with seating for six, but with armchair trays instead of a table. That meant the crew and passengers never could all sit to a common meal. It seemed to be more a lounge for socializing more than eating. In two shifts she’d seen crew get food twice, and both times they took it away. It was nothing at all like the dramatic videos with a long table full of handsome officers and white clad stewards formally serving you over your shoulder.
All those images presumed you traveled on one of the few dedicated passenger ships. Pamela would never have the level of income to travel in that sort of luxury. Indeed, none of the crew on this vessel wore anything identifiable as a uniform. They all knew each other and their rank without emblems. The menu was all heat-and-eat, with one small fridge that was kept stocked with cold drinks, fruit, single-serve sandwich fixings, and a few desserts. Nobody cooked from scratch for themselves or passengers.
The frozen entrees weren’t big name commercial food items but seemed to have been prepared by a private kitchen in unbranded freezer packs. They lacked the required nutritional information and certifications she expected. Pamela was shocked to quickly find that they ate better than she was used to having at home. Not her father’s house of course, he had his own chef and staff, but her State Department job was not menial. The Vancouver neighborhood she lived in was gentrified and had nice restaurants.
The lasagna when she tried it was what you would expect from somebody’s Italian grandma, and the linguini with garlic butter shrimp was better than she’d had at a very well-regarded bayside restaurant. The shrimp were enormous and plentiful. It would easily be a five-hundred-dollar meal back home. They had Mexican, Thai, Japanese, and French dishes. How the processor properly cooked some of the items that required different temperatures and timing was a mystery to her. Her home kitchen couldn’t do anything so complex.
There were even a few selections of beer or wine for passengers. A little sign explained due to the need to respond to emergencies with a limited crew they did not partake underway. What was glaringly missing to her was the absence of warning labels about the dangers of alcohol to her health, some way to present proof of age, or even any additional charge for those beverages. The first morning out she found the same free and loose attitude for her coffee selections, being able to select from sweeteners, cream, chocolate, cinnamon, or five alcoholic additions to her coffee. That was scandalous to her to consider drinking so early in the morning. Decent people didn’t do that.
Kirk had no problem with that and may have ordered a double if the odor of it was any indication. He also was on his second waffle piled high with berries and whipped cream. Pamela didn’t say anything, grateful he was making the effort to get along and not wanting to spoil it over something she couldn’t find any way to tie to his job performance. She thought about it, but any scenario she imagined where it would matter sounded silly even to her. She’d never admit she just didn’t like him.
The web portions she examined were disturbing. The ship net offered a combined web fraction that included public selections from Earth-Moon, Fargone, Derfhome, and New Japan webs. Why would Fargone allow foreign material on a Fargoer vessel? The volume was limited by expense to a Zettabyte, refreshed anytime they had a hard connection at dock by a commercial service. It was heavily weighed to the last month of current events, then the previous year to a lesser extent. English language sources were favored and classic offerings in art, music, and history. There was no restriction on downloading anything she chose from this smorgasbord. Of course, if she got caught with a lot of the material she could lose social credit points or even her job. At worst, if she didn’t read it all and something really bad was embedded she might lose citizenship and be incarcerated.
When it came to uploading the rules were simple. Other than typed in messages or voice to other account holders on the ship nothing was to be uploaded and the system was set to police this. The port for memory chips didn’t allow data to flow that direction. It informed her that the critical ship’s systems were all air-gapped from the convenience functions such as wake up calls and entertainment, and trying to breach even those non-essential systems would result in expulsion from the nearest airlock sans suit.
Pamela took that for very sick and inappropriate humor when she read it, but researched then and there to find out just what the limits of the Captain’s authority really were between the stars. It left her very sober. If you said or did anything to threaten his command the Master of the vessel was within his authority to summarily execute you the way the web warning said or any other way he chose. The forms of humor and hyperbole most Earth courts winked at all the time could get you dead out here. She had to mention it to Kirk, but it rattled her so badly she needed to calm down and digest the facts before she could relate it to him calmly.
The ship’s web portion was disturbing other ways. They showed a lot of official Earth content, but also completely unfiltered content on the same issues from the Moon and other worlds. It was obvious that not only the paid commentators but the general public didn’t find the official North American positions on things much above the ravings of insane people. After all the content of that sort she’d help create, it was hard for her to see the unfiltered replies people made to that sort of commentary. How could governments like Fargone let just anybody say the insulting contradictory things they did right out in public? Weren’t the people posting such inflammatory stuff afraid of being fired or have a knock in the night by police and be disappeared?
The next day when she mentioned it to Kirk, he seemed surprised she didn’t know. “Yeah, space law beyond L1 is very much like Admiralty Law used to be. It deals with reality better than the mess they made of space law back around the turn of the century. They tried to reconcile national laws from different legal systems there was simply no way to make compatible. They tried to apply all those layers and layers of regulation to the Spacers from afar. The UN even sent a big fleet of Chinese flagged ships to evict the Homies from their halo orbit out past the Moon. They hadn’t filled out all the proper forms to beg leave to occupy that space or genuflect to their betters.”
“That’s obviously before my time. What did they do?” Pamela asked.
“They blew those ships all to hell and bombarded the UN out of existence,” Kirk said. “Do you hear anything about the UN now? Did you think they achieved world peace and just voted to disband one day? That was when Home and Central set up the L1 limit for armed ships. If you want to invite a continent killing bombardment, just try to bring up that sort of doctrine with the Spacers again.”
“They didn’t teach me that in school,” Pamela said. “I find it hard to believe the Spacers would do anything to seriously irritate us when they depend on us for just about everything they need to live.”
“You have an uncensored web at your fingertips,” Kirk said, “Look up the L1 doctrine, the bombardment of Central, the bombardment of China by Jeff Singh, and the destruction of the UN.
He hesitated, looking a little upset, but decided to expand on that. “I can’t believe the Department is sending you off to deal with foreign powers without briefing you on this stuff. It’s almost like they have been spewing this crap so long they forget that being official doesn’t make it true. I grew up hearing the same stuff as you, but my father lived through it all and told me the real history. If you start parroting it to the Fargoers or the Derf, much less the Homies, they’ll think you a fool. You have to know what really happened to deal with other people who do. You aren’t talking down to negative tax proles. None of the older experienced diplomats or ambassadors would try to sell the official line to Spacers.”
“That’s quite enough to cost you your job and most of your social credit, if not your freedom back home,” Pamela warned him.
“We aren’t back home. And if you recount what I said accurately to Secretary Wilson he’s going to be in the ugly position of needing to take you to a secure room and destroy your faith in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. I really doubt that will enhance your career, because he seems to have paid you the compliment of assuming you knew the difference between propaganda and reality without a formal read in. Even if you don’t have a father like mine it’s ridiculously easy to get around the web censors and read the real history from Swiss or Russian sources.”
“That’s illegal, to work around net limits,” Pamela said.
“Oh my goodness, you really are an honest-to-God little hall monitor,” he said, covering his eyes with one hand, dismayed. “I thought that was a façade. A prim little public persona you wanted to project. It was already a big turn-off for me, but to find out you really are a prig just horrifies me. You better read some more and decide who to believe, your public schooling or all these multiple open accounts from unrelated sources.”
“I’m not a public-school clod. I went to a private religious school,” Pamela said.
“Worse!” Kirk exclaimed. “They daren’t say anything off the official party line because the government is watching for any excuse to shut them down. And the idea the Spacers need almost everything from Earth is a good twenty or more years out of date. Didn’t you see the list of imports when we had it on the screen? There wasn’t anything essential on that list. The few things like electronics they don’t make they would just buy from Fargone or New Japan if we cut them off. We had to look for luxury items to have something to work with. The habitats and the Moon aren’t any different from the exo-Solar planets now.
“Do you think the meals we’ve enjoyed the last couple of days came from Earth? I can assure you they didn’t, maybe some of the spices in them at most. They are such a minor expense they don’t even bother to nickel and dime you for premium service. It’s just rolled into the price of your ticket. If you take passage on an Earth flagged vessel it won’t be as clean and comfortable as this one. Mull that all over and decide what you will. You are in charge of this mission and if you make silly assumptions in dealing with the Spacers, they will notice. It can easily harm your mission.”
“I am not a tattle to run our conversations back home,” Pamela objected. She didn’t agree with Kirk, but the points he made at the end about the food and the way the ship seemed nicer and more advanced were already bothering her. It was nicer than the promotional videos Kirk would undoubtedly label as propaganda. The only reason she could see for that was if the dreary Earth ships in the recruiting videos were the very best they could present.
“I’ll look at some more of the ship web and run the searches you suggested.”
She felt like a traitor to even say that much.
Kirk just gave a curt nod, unimpressed. He didn’t expect her to do it.
* * *
“As near as I can figure, the main shaft simply exploded from the disk upward,” Musical said. “Then the shaft, unsupported, whipped until it got far enough off center to snap off above the bottom magnetic bearing. There’s still a hunk of it in the lower bearing friction welded in place. The disk itself totally disintegrated, with the superconductor delaminating from the base disk.”
“Is any of the superconductor recoverable to use for experiments?” Born asked.
“It has so much contamination I wouldn’t try. At the speed it impacted the walls and the chunks of shaft flying about inside, it isn’t just surface contamination. There are particles of other materials embedded in the superconductor. Trying to do anything but run the pieces through a screen might destroy the glassy state. It’s not like we don’t know how to make more.
“The real loss is not this test batch. I’m sorry to tell you the centrifuge is a write-off. It contained the explosion just like it was supposed to, but there are dents and bulges that I would worry might not stand being hit the same way again. We need to just replace the whole thing. We aren’t going to save much but the floor stand and lower shell anyhow. And the new shaft needs to be hollow, not a stock one, to allow us to test what this force is that it projected up through the ceiling.”
“A hollow shaft will be weaker. We won’t be able to spin it up as fast. And how big a bore do we need to avoid the same sort of damage all over again?” Born worried.
“I’d suggest we farm out the design, making the hollow bore as big as we safely can make it with a respectable margin,” Musical said, “at least as big as the hole in the ceiling. Another explosion would be needlessly expensive.”
Born thought to reply and then stifled it. No matter how much he and Musical got along and liked each other, there was still a cultural gap. He’d stuck his foot in his mouth several times already, thinking the Badger was making a joke when he wasn’t.
“This is a significant enough finding I think we should make a report to Lee,” Born said. “Don’t you?”
“Yes. She may even have suggestions about how to proceed,” Musical said. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all. She may be able to dig up new information again, given she has new facts now with which to inquire of her sources. She may even decide to throw more money at us. The girl has a surprising intuitive grasp of cutting edge physics for all of needing to express it in plain language instead of numbers.”
“You could do that if you had to,” Born insisted.
“Yes, but it would make my head hurt,” Musical said. “Numbers are much more compact and succinct. Doing it her way is too hard.”
Born had such a change of expression even Musical could read it on the Derf’s face.
“Did I trigger a thought?” Musical asked, when Born wasn’t forthcoming.
“It is irrelevant and unessential to our task, but it occurred to me that what you just said suggests Lee may be smarter than… me,” Born said.
“Us, you mean,” Musical corrected.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Born admitted, “but I’m still struggling with learning to be polite across three cultures. I thought it might be offensive.”
Musical considered that carefully. “It might be, against a different standard, but I think you are right, and that should be one of our base assumptions as we proceed.”
Born just nodded. “Let’s send a note over by bank courier. I don’t want to trust this to a text. I’m getting paranoid,” he admitted.
Chapter 9
Kirk Fuldheim got a hot chocolate in a thermo-mug and returned to his bunk. He’d had a bite of supper in the galley a couple of hours ago. He suspected that the crew was under orders to take their meals elsewhere if there were passengers using the galley. No one said anything but it was a pattern he noticed. If there were two or three already there when he went for a meal they dispersed fairly quickly if he stayed. If he took his tray back to his and Pamela’s cabin, they stayed. Since it was one of the few places to get away from his confining bunk, he hated to impose on them that way.
He didn’t mind returning to his bunk, it could be configured like a lounge chair, and he was free to watch a video or wear earphones without feeling he was being antisocial. The galley didn’t fit any social situation with which he was familiar and made him feel awkward. It felt odd to ignore them, yet they would be obligated to humor him if he tried to engage them in conversation. Pamela hadn’t gone to eat at all as far as he could tell. He couldn’t see that as any of his business.
At the moment Kirk didn’t have any music playing and he was reading a book rather than having it read to him. He preferred that for non-fiction. If he let a narrator drone on he found he might drift off in thought from something in the book triggered without stopping it, and before he knew it he had no idea how long it had been running without him listening. He had no sound canceling activated, just an obscuring privacy net of a dark soft cloth material pulled across his bunk opening. He suspected Pamela made comments aloud with the same unawareness with which he drifted off in thought. Just now she muttered an ugly string of expressions he was sure she never could have learned as a good girl in a religious school.
She might be pursuing the lines of inquiry he’s suggested this morning, but the angry outbursts didn’t really tell him if she was upset at the things revealed or upset with him for giving any credence to the ravings of foreign devils. It didn’t seem like a good idea to ask. He wondered if she could be heard outside the cabin or if the Fargoers ran surveillance on foreign nationals for their government? That was something he’d expect his own USNA carriers to do. If so, they were getting an earful.
There was a high-pitched sound the eyelets for the security curtain made when you whipped it back on the plastic track as Pamela exited her bunk.
“Are you awake in there, you motherless bastard?”
Ignoring her would probably just make things worse, Kirk decided. It didn’t sound like this was going to be pleasant or avoidable. But he didn’t open his curtain so she could scowl at him.
“Yes, I’ve been reading. I was concerned when you didn’t have any supper.”
That produced a quiet pause. “It is late,” she admitted. She must have just checked the clock, unaware she’d been so engrossed she’d lost track of the time.
“I’m extremely unhappy with what I am reading,” Pamela said. “This is not just a difference of perspective or cultural bias.”
“Oh?” Kirk asked, neutrally, still not certain with whom she was unhappy.
“Do you realize the Spacers think we are funny?” Pamela asked.
“I’ve seen that on parody sites,” Kirk admitted. “Things like headlines that Spacers are stealing our irreplaceable water in secret by buying health drinks, that oceans will fall a meter in the next decade as they drain it away, a half-liter at a time. One hopes even the most innumerate know that is tongue in cheek.”
“I wish that was the extent of it,” Pamela said. “It’s subtle and much, much worse. Like at the end of a serious news program they will quote something from a politician that implies what I told you, that Spacers depend on Earth for the necessities of life. But after making the quote with a straight face they will look off in the air like something is flying by or outright roll their eyes and sigh, like it is beyond refuting.
“When I was a girl in school I had to deal with all the bullying and cliques anyone does. Girls are much nastier than boys. What I absolutely hated though, was being made the object of humor, being laughed at. Now, I find not just my nation but my whole world is an object of snickering disbelief.”
“Well yeah, I wouldn’t expect the government to allow people to see that,” Kirk said.
“You realize I believed yesterday that if a Spacer sat down to a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast it was lifted from Earth somewhere? Not off on other worlds. I know you couldn’t ship that much interstellar, but in our own system. I was a fool,” Pamela said.
Kirk pushed his privacy curtain back and rested his book on his chest. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Those commodity numbers are a little harder to gather and analyze than how many cans of drink it would take to drop sea level. In fact, a lot of them are classified now, that used to be public.”
“I never thought to take a hard look at any numbers, because I couldn’t imagine they would lie to me,” Pamela said.
Kirk said nothing. That wasn’t going to satisfy Pamela, but it was safer than anything he could think to say without lying.
“You won’t speak against your supervisor?” Pamela asked.
“It’s much more complicated than that,” Kirk objected. “I am obligated to advise you if you want advice. I am not obligated to volunteer advice and am hesitant to do so if I’m not sure it will be both welcome and actually beneficial.”
“Well, at least you aren’t smirking and laughing at me,” Pamela said.
When Kirk said nothing she looked perplexed, then finally got it.
“Oh, OK, I’m asking for it. What do you advise me?”
“First of all, stop thinking everything is about you. No, let me modify that statement. Stop feeling every titter and smirk about Earth is directed at you. None of these Spacers are snickering at you. Haven’t they been quite polite? Have you gotten as much as a sly smile directed at you? You won’t unless you actually do something as colossally stupid as the people they are mocking. They do business with lots of Earthies who have their heads screwed on straight and they know that very well. Be one of the competent ones. You are under no obligation to identify with every fool who happens to be on your world, in your government, or even from your own family. You didn’t choose to associate with them and don’t owe anybody any apologies for others over whom you have no control.”
Pamela was aghast at any hint that the Spacer’s contempt was deserved. “How can you reconcile agreeing with this opposing view of your fellows with being loyal?”
“If I were to immigrate to Home and take their citizenship, I am fairly confident I would find at least some of my fellow Homies were degenerate swine or fools as bad as the news programs all paint them. Probably nowhere near as many as they make out, but there are sure to be some. Having billions of people on Earth we can’t help but have far more flaming jackasses in total than them. No matter where I live on or off Earth there are going to be people I wouldn’t invite to dinner or want to consider my friends.
“I have no illusions there is any group of saints hidden away in a secret valley for me to join, free of strife and ugly personal ambition. Some group so pure I can offer them unconditional loyalty without any reservations. I’ll just have to continue to be as loyal as is reasonable to my own flawed peers without demanding their perfection.”
“That is horribly cynical,” Pamela protested.
“Indeed, I plead guilty,” Kirk said. “I just regard it as being realistic.”
“I’m not sure how I could do the mental gymnastics needed to accept my government and coworkers as flawed and just look past it to function every day as if it doesn’t matter,” Pamela said.
“If the alternative is believing none of them are flawed, then I’d say you have performed a feat of mental gymnastics far exceeding my cynicism,” Kirk said. “Did they somehow convince you in school that it was your duty and obligation to correct any error you found in others? Did you agree with everything your teachers taught you? How have you refrained from correcting our superior, Under-Secretary Wilson? Surely you have seen him make an error. I mean, he’s a pretty decent boss, but there must be something you’d have done differently. You plainly dislike me, so why didn’t you object to my being assigned with you?”
“I’ve never said I don’t like you,” Pamela objected.
“You don’t have to. You always look like you just smelled something rotten when forced to say my name. Usually, people who dislike me try to get me ousted from their working group. I’m used to people not liking me, and good at ignoring it.”
“Whether people like you or not you are very good with numbers. I had a class on basic statistics, but you have a talent for translating numbers into trends and explaining it to others. Why don’t you work on making yourself more likable?” Pamela said. “I understand they have actual coaches and courses on doing that.”
Kirk blinked rapidly, assimilating that. “I don’t think you understand. It’s not personality. Most people like me just fine at first. It’s usually when I refuse to massage the numbers to say what they want that people get upset with me. Wilson is different, refreshingly so. He wants the hard facts even if they aren’t what he’d rather they be. I can work for him OK. If he retires or doesn’t drag me along when he’s promoted, I’ll probably have to go to private industry where my sort of analysis is more appreciated.”
“What sort of private industry?” Pamela asked. The idea seemed to puzzle her.
“Oh, there’s all sorts of things,” Kirk told her. “Weather forecasting is difficult and very interesting to model, I could get into that. Farmers and insurance people will pay big money for accurate long-range forecasts. The best of the paid private ones always beat the pants off the government services. Not just in North America but all over the world. Similarly, insurance companies always want to know the trends in things like life expectancy and morbidity. The life-extension treatments the Spacers are doing must be driving the actuaries nuts. Harvest yields and things like power demand all need to be predicted. A lot of the government data on that is secret now and people pay to have their own projections. I’m not so much worried about having a job as having interesting work to do.”
Pamela had the sudden uncomfortable thought that if she had to abandon public service she had no idea where she could go. Every form of civilian work she ever considered going to would presume she voluntarily went to it after a successful stint in government. All of a sudden that seemed like a huge supposition where it hadn’t before. At least the family business would take her in no matter how badly she screwed up.
“I’m suddenly tired,” Pamela said. “This is more than I can sort out and come to a satisfactory conclusion about all at once. I’ll think about what you said,” she promised. “I’m just going to get some sleep now.”
She rolled back in her bunk and pulled her curtain. Kirk wondered if she was really going to go to sleep without any supper, but he decided it wasn’t any of his business.
* * *
Born and Musical showed the design file for the new centrifuge shaft to the student, Atlas, who Leonardo sent over from the College of Practical Applications, what Humans would refer to as the Engineering School.
“What’s going to happen in this new bore?” the engineering grad student asked.
“Nothing that will put a load on the shaft,” Born assured him. “Beyond that, it isn’t anything with which you should concern yourself.”
The Derf didn’t have a well-established culture of secrecy and security so that made the young Derf unhappy.
“There’s no contract number on this file,” Atlas noticed. “We always have a contract with outside jobs.”
“This isn’t an outside job,” Born said. “We’re in the same university. If you doubt our financial responsibility or have any further questions, ask Leader Bacon to clarify the matter for you.”
Atlas wasn’t a genius, but he was bright enough to know going over the head of his college to ask questions of the Leader of multiple university departments wouldn’t be a career-enhancing move.
“OK, this is a pretty straight forward design change. I’ll have an amended file to Professor Leonardo tomorrow and he’ll let you know when he can assign it as a class project to be machined.”
“Thank you,” Born said. They would be waiting for almost the entire parts collection for most of a new centrifuge minus the support equipment, external stand, and main shaft to be shipped from Fargone, so he wasn’t in any rush.
* * *
By the time the Kurofune entered the Providence system, Lee had taken advantage of the transit time to instruct Mike on how to put a pressure suit on and off properly, all the little details of how to care for it and stow it properly. He was impressed Lee knew the details about how a Derf suit differed from a Human suit. He’d been instructed on the art of patching a leak quickly and gotten much better about handling himself in zero-g during those brief periods they weren’t under acceleration.
Mike understood now that Lee, though tiny, was at about the same level of growth and maturity for a Human as he was for a Derf. He had a new respect for her experience he didn’t have when he’d showed up at her apartment just a few days ago. Under the Mothers’ rule, clan Derf tended to be trained to one thing. He was starting to see Lee and Gordon were of necessity generalists.
He’d learned just enough about ships to understand he didn’t know anything about what an able-bodied Spacer was expected to know and was just barely beyond being a danger to himself, someone who had to be watched closely. Lee, on the other hand, didn’t feel he was as great a danger to the social order and stability of the clan as she had at first.
It seemed obvious to Mike after listening to them speaking to departure control and inhabited systems along the way that Lee was just as familiar with the ship and dealing with traffic control as Gordon. Gordon was in command, but it really was her ship. Mike was pretty sure she could pilot it herself if she needed to. Gordon had handed off just about anything that needed to be done to her at one point or another.
When they arrived at Providence, Gordon called ahead to Providence Control, describing the Kurofune as an Armed Diplomatic Courier for the Nation of Red Tree out of Derfhome. He recited his full name as Master and Lee’s full name as second very formally, adding their short customary names for Humans, but only mentioned they carried a passenger and private freight, without detail.
Gordon detailed his entry vector and estimated arrival at Providence station as two days from now, requesting a detailed system scan, a berth at station with utilities, and a schedule of shuttle service to and from the surface, as they intended to join the group presently working on Providence for the Nation of Red Tree, and resupply them.
A lesser vessel might have swung around the far side of the star and made a long chasing approach to the planet at lower acceleration, but Kurofune had legs to spare to make a direct approach and match velocity. It was another ten hours from sending their request that Providence traffic control’s answer arrived with no system scan and they objected that there was no visit scheduled for a ship of their name. They informed Gordon the planet was in its development stage without open public access and station dockage and service to the surface was only available to lease-holders, corporations licensed to create infrastructure or those with very specific permits to explore. The planetary manager for the Claims Commission offered fueling at commercial rates if they needed it to depart the system, but they would have to exit after fueling since it was a closed franchise planet.
“Providence Control, you forgot to append a system scan,” Gordon said back. “That is how you treat a vessel you consider a hostile presence. It is irresponsible for the safety of your own traffic to deny it even to a vessel you only plan to fuel and then evict. Since you are neglecting that courtesy, we’ll run our own radar scan to make sure we are clear of all other traffic and natural hazards.
“The crew of the Kurofune discovered Providence aboard the explorer High Hopes, and are not contractors or lease-holders. The two of us retain allodial title to approximately two percent of the land surface of the planet and are the beneficial owners of the claim on the planet that their manager is administering for the Commission. We do not need your permission to visit the system, nor to obtain fueling, because we both retained personal private fueling rights to the system gas giants.
“We do require shuttle service to the surface. You may, of course, refuse us such service if you wish, but we will take that to be an act breaking your contract with us over the system claim, to refuse us access to the surface and our personal claims. If I have to go home and return with our own shuttles, we’ll return with a fleet and take the system back since you reneged on your contract.
“Since the entire reason for the Claims Commission was to avoid such unpleasantness, your masters back home may not be amused if the local manager decides to break the back of the claims system for them. It’s already damaged and in crisis from our other recent dealings with them. I’ll also point out I can do a round trip to Derfhome faster than you can send a message and get a response from Earth. So no matter what their response, they would arrive to find it an accomplished fact.
“If you have not understood it yet from the tone of my response, I am irritated with you. I suggest you find it in your heart to offer a much more conciliatory response to this transmission than the previous one. Don’t hurry to reply, think about it instead.”
In the back seat, Mike watched in horror. The angrier Gordon became the softer and more pleasant his voice got. The air was electric with emotion like just before a thunderstorm broke over the Keep. He didn’t want to see the lighting let loose.
“Copilot, draw us a system map from a general sweep like you’d do for an uninhabited system, then ping the planetary volume with a maximum power pulse in a tight beam. We may repeat that occasionally as we approach.”
“Roger, shutting down secondary systems,” Lee acknowledged.
Mike watched as Lee’s fingers danced on her board and the ventilators he wasn’t aware of hearing before stopped their sigh. All the lighting went off except their screens and the drive shut off so they could turn and present the full number of emitters where they wanted them aimed. Most of their boards were in amber lights and Mike felt himself float against his belts since they were in zero-g again.
“System scan sweeping,” Lee reported. “That’s away,” she said, after a couple of minutes. “Covering double the planetary diameter with a single pulse. Going to a hundred and thirty percent power on radar for five-hundredths of a second.”
The screens flickered briefly but there was no other sign anything had happened.
“Maintaining power saving for thirty seconds to give some elements a chance to cool down,” Lee said. It took her almost that long to say it, and then she started bringing back systems. When her board was almost all green Mike felt the ship rotate and stabilize and they brought the drive back up.
“Task finished, your ship,” Lee said, like she did that every day.
“Do we have any more of that honey ham for a sandwich?” Gordon asked. “Being grouchy makes me hungry.”
“I’ve got it,” Mike said. Basic cooking was something else they were teaching him.
* * *
“Tell me about these insects,” the Safety Agent on Derfhome station asked Pamela. “I am familiar with honey, when I can afford a little, but not the source. We prohibit very little entry. But birds and most insects are on the list. Once let loose, there is little chance they could be eradicated. Why aren’t these the same?”
“They do fly, but they are easily contained as a hazard for becoming exotic invasives, because the fliers can’t reproduce. It is in the economic interest of the beekeepers to contain the hives from splitting to the wild. Wild hives could be collected by whoever found them first and become competition to our business. If a hive did escape they are pretty easy to locate. The workers can be made to take bait and display the direction they fly back to the colony. You just check from a couple of locations and triangulate their location on a map. The bees return rather directly.”
The agent nodded, to indicate he could visualize that.
“The benefits are significant,” Pamela told him the volume in Ceres dollars that Derfhome imported each year. “Of course we have no guarantee the bees will find enough Earth flowering plants or can adapt to similar Derf plants. They could also find tiny predators or something like a mold they can’t deal with. But it’s worth a try to us.”
“Run through the reproductive cycle again so I’m sure I understand it,” the Derf requested. Pam was happy to oblige and showed details in pix off her pad.
“It seems like a hazard that can be reasonably contained. I’ll add it to the list of acceptable imports,” the officer decided.
“We don’t have to fill out forms or wait for an organizational review?” Pamela asked.
“If they didn’t trust my judgment, I wouldn’t be out here doing the inspections,” he said. The idea of red tape amused him and the lack of it shocked Pamela. He hadn’t even asked for any fees or hinted for a bribe.
* * *
On Derfhome, two lawyers looked across the old town from one of the new towers on the surrounding hills. Lee’s hotel stuck up, barely visible at the extreme other side of the city. Sam Burnstein was actually experienced at business law in North America. Bill King was technically a lawyer but had never practiced or tried a case in a courtroom. That didn’t matter, he knew the lingo and how to step to the music. Their business was to advise Derf or Human citizens how to deal with Earth law and regulations. That was more often for trade than travel or immigration. The lack of invasive accounting or taxes tied to income made it much easier for them to hide the fact they operated at a substantial loss. Their real job was intelligence, North American Interstellar Intelligence. They didn’t operate under their real names of course. But checking their bonafides on Earth would show a full clean professional history. The occasional walk-in business was a bother they might accommodate to maintain their facade. They tried to charge enough to discourage any volume of business. Most of their day was spent searching the public records the Derf maintained of all contracts and the areas of the local net that dealt with business.
“Hey, Bill, you worked for State for a while. Do you know a Pamela Harvac?”
“Lawd, noo,” King denied in a fake east coast Yankee accent. “She was fa’ above me, from a good family, and being groomed for Great Things. She’s the sort that moved me to leave State as soon as I had an opportunity,” he said, returning to a normal voice.
Sam ignored the conflict in his snarky reply and pressed on. “Her name was flagged on my computer as a government employee at State as soon as I scanned the entry list for Derfhome Station. She was a passenger on the Fargone freighter Unlikely. Further digging shows she is with a fellow by the name of Kirk Fuldheim. He didn’t pop up on any lists by himself. Supposedly they are here on a commercial mission promoting agricultural tech.”
“Our lists don’t extend down to every flunky and technician,” Bill said. “Figure that he’s a buffer and coffee fetcher. I don’t believe the private business story for a minute. If she screwed up and got bounced out of the State Department, Ms. Harvac would be shuffled off to a very respectable position in one of her Daddy’s businesses or one of his friends would find her something suitable as a favor. There’s no way she would ever end up on Derfhome getting her hands dirty with common business.”
“What are they doing then?” Sam asked.
“Same thing we are, spying on something. It’s probably something pretty limited in scope and specific to their political interest in Derfhome. As far as I know, State doesn’t have the budget or expertise to dabble in broad general intelligence gathering. If they tried, they’d get their hands slapped for going beyond their mandate. And they wouldn’t send somebody like Pamela to run a wide-net fishing expedition.”
“Pamela could be the cover and this Kirk the investigator,” Sam proposed.
“That’s possible. I can’t see her doing any serious investigation,” Bill agreed.
“We probably are already monitoring whatever their interest is. They should at least ask us,” Sam said.
“Would you give them what you have?” Bill asked.
“Well, at least a few bits of it, if they told me why they want it. Keeping a little back to bargain with and digging for much more once we knew their area of interest.”
“There you have why they won’t ask. We’ve trained them that it is pointless.”
“Hmmm, we’ll have to keep an eye on them,” Sam decided.
* * *
The Central ship Mesektet diverted on request and met the Phantom well outside the Derfhome system on private business. They took on two vacuum gurneys for medical transfer and continued to Earth. Eileen Foy hadn’t been sure Heather would go along with it, but she’d agreed and sent the ship to pick up the two spies. She made no promise how they would equip them but said to expect pictures. The Mothers would be pleased.
Chapter 10
Replacing the rotor on the centrifuge was a bigger job than Born or Musical expected. You didn’t just slide a shaft in a hole with a squirt of oil. They had to rig a lift and lower it with the magnetic bearing active to centralize it. They rigged a plastic tent to ensure clean room conditions and wore paper suits and respirators because both of them were fur shedders.
“Obviously we can’t keep blasting a hole through the roof,” Musical said. “Do you have some idea how to point it a safe direction?”
“I just wanted it back together before worrying about that. It would be terribly difficult to assemble it in any other orientation. Using the same hole has some appeal actually. You’d have to check to make sure nobody is on the roof, but you could block that off. We’d have to make sure there is no air traffic. I suppose that might be difficult to arrange,” Born said, thoughtfully.
“I suppose it might be difficult to explain why we are doing all that,” Musical said. It was obvious he didn’t think much of the idea. “How do you know you don’t need to make sure you are safe to avoid orbital traffic?”
“Oh, do you really think that could be a concern?” Born said, skeptically.
“Even assuming you don’t kill anybody, how amused would people be if you punched a hole through Derfhome Station like we did the roof?” Musical asked. He didn’t look up, he just pointed a single digit skyward.
“There hasn’t been anything on the news, so we must have missed,” Born said, and he did look up, but he was starting to look worried.
“Indeed, we lucked out as the Fargoers say, but it was sheer dumb luck.”
“How about the other way?” Born suggested. “Surely the effect will be attenuated by enough mass. It won’t punch out the other side of the planet.”
“I’ve come to the same conclusion. Also, I checked. The opposite side of the planet is in open-ocean, far from any trade routes. So we have to alter the frame to turn it over to test, and then be able to return it to the upright position fairly easily in order to load new disks and service it,” Musical said.
“I’m reluctant to engage the engineers to design that,” Born said. “Even if we don’t tell them why we want the ability to do this, it tells them entirely too much about our operations to help them figure out what we are doing. They are irritating and difficult, but they aren’t entirely stupid.”
“I’m sure I can design something simple and rugged,” Musical said. “It would just be cheap iron ‘L’ shapes and hardware, probably not pretty, but it would be strong and I know enough welding to get the pieces together.”
“Excellent,” Born said. “Then we shouldn’t have any more accidents.”
* * *
“Mr. Larkin, I have a favor to ask,” Heather told Old Man Larkin. If he had a first name Heather had never heard it, and she would be afraid to presume to use it uninvited. The fellow had such a reputation that despite life-extension therapy erasing most of the craggy signs of age on his face he was still Old Man Larkin to those who knew him even more so than strangers.
Larkin dipped his head a bit and regarded her with a pouty moue of disbelief. “I don’t think we have ever done any business together.”
Heather had not introduced herself, but Larkin hadn’t played the petty power game of asking who she was. They both knew each other by sight from speaking in the assembly if nothing else.
“Not directly,” Heather agreed. “I’m sure you have done business with my partners and me through our company if only to transport something or someone for us. I know we have traveled on your ships as paying passengers.”
“Amazing, since you have ships of your own, much better ones than mine. That’s a fact I know beyond any rumor,” he said quickly, as if she might deny it and he didn’t want to have to argue the point with her.
“Indeed, thank you,” Heather said, with a little nod, just accepting it as a compliment. “But yours are well crewed, beautifully maintained, and more importantly, they go regularly to places where ours would be noted and watched because it’s unusual for them to be visiting there.”
“Ah, well that could be useful at times. The thing is, what do you want to be transported to one of our usual stops that should not be observed too closely? Are we talking about smuggling or something even more serious? For all your praise we are well regarded by many habs and ports and value those relationships. We would not damage it for a onetime favor, no matter who is asking. I know you are a queen, even if you don’t flaunt the title, and if I had your money I could throw mine away without taking count of it, but if this venture hurts our business and welcome at the stations of which you speak, it would take a huge sum of money to make up for our loss of income and damaged reputation over a long period of time.”
“This actually won’t make a centum,” Heather revealed. “It’s more for satisfaction than profit. Both satisfying an ally and mocking an enemy.”
For the first time, Larkin looked interested.
“There is a pair of spies who are associated with North America, who have at the least mixed loyalties. They made a poor, awkward attempt to run an operation to intrude on an ally’s ship in Derfhome orbit and were captured. We’d like to return them as a message of sorts.”
“Like that fellow that the Chinese sent some time back, who tried to assassinate your friend April in the cafeteria? The one who was dead so many ways nobody was sure who to credit? He was shot and scalded and knifed so badly he probably didn’t have time to know what had happened to him before he hit the floor. Word is he was delivered back to his people stuffed in a rescue ball. We could probably drop a couple of bodies out the lock easily enough for you.”
“That would be awkward because they are still living,” Heather said.
“Wow, they really messed up to be taken alive.”
“They boarded an armed ship unauthorized thinking it empty and came through the lock to find a ton and a half of unamused Derf waiting for them with an ax across his knees,” Heather said.
“Oops. Then I’m not sure exactly how you intend to repatriate them,” Larkin said. When Heather told him, he smiled.
* * *
“Wilson is going to have a stroke when he finds out what it costs in dollars N.A. to maintain a mission on Derfhome,” Pamela said.
“I’d bet he checked before he ever discussed the idea with us,” Kirk said.
Pamela opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, looking chagrinned. Of course, he did, she realized. Going to Derfhome was the obvious necessary end to the whole line of inquiry, and Wilson would have never started it if he hadn’t known it was doable. That meant the Under Secretary had far more resources than she realized, and this mission was more important than she’d assumed. She wasn’t just being shuffled off on a matter of no importance on a whim. That gave her mixed feelings. She liked thinking she was being taken seriously, but she suddenly realized if she blew this kind of money and didn’t get any results it would be a black mark on her record. Kirk once again wasn’t as stupid as she thought. That was an ongoing reevaluation that wasn’t comfortable.
Rents were higher in the old town, and neither of them wanted to deal with the congestion. The agricultural areas their bees might favor were to the west, beyond the hills around the city with newer development. They found a warehouse near the flatlands below the hilltops. They were out of sight of the old city but close enough for business and services. The automated roadways were even extended to their rental in the last year so you could call for a car. That was good because neither of them had ever driven a manual vehicle. They had enough to learn without needing driving lessons too.
The odd thing was nobody had solicited a single bribe, and the clearinghouse that published public contracts took their registration as Harvac Honey Brokers without a fee. Instead, a small fee would be charged for every contact published. If anybody investigated the Harvac name they’d see all sorts of companies in her father’s name and that she was his daughter before any connection as a minor official in State.
The cost of the warehouse seemed more reasonable when they discovered that the lack of zoning restrictions meant they could make the office section of their business into an apartment. After sharing a cabin with Kirk without any problems from him, and realizing nobody cared, Pamela decided they could share a residence on their mission as long as she had her own room. That would create a scandal on Earth, at least in North America, but that seemed a silly concern after sharing a tiny cabin on their trip.
They had a small quantity of sugar and pollen supplement along in case the bees needed support getting established, but found the local cost of sugar in hundred kilogram lots not much higher than the commodity prices to which they’d had access. They’d see if the local food processors could make a pollen substitute for them. That would be one welcome way to approach them and get a relationship.
Local workmen cut ports to the outside near the ceiling by their direction without much curiosity about why they needed them. They were sure they could handle the ductwork and hive enclosures themselves. That would take several weeks. They didn’t intend to introduce themselves to the local food processors and distributors until they had some early signs the bees were thriving and would produce. Then it would be time to try to ingratiate themselves to those in the industry to both buy and sell.
After helping Pamela set up the basics Kirk would start searching the local web and find out what Central was doing here. Their agents were certainly easy enough to find. They had their com code listed in public and were building an embassy.
* * *
“Incoming message, sending it to your screen,” Lee told Gordon as she had the watch. Her voice, Mike noticed, was carefully neutral.
“Kurofune, the planetary administrator objects that you did not identify yourselves as claim holders, and your use of military strength radar has panicked some ship masters, disrupting freight and work schedules. Some captains are still refusing to dock to load or unload on our sole say-so, until they have some guarantees from you that we are not going to experience actual hostilities in the system.
“As it stands now, due to this disruption, we have vacant berths and our schedule is undone. It is unlikely a new docking schedule will be published until either you dock, satisfying the shipmasters that you aren’t going to initiate hostile action or leave the system.
“If you still wish to dock slip eleven will be held open. Services such as utilities are available upon presenting a letter of credit or showing you are an account holder on a local bank. Docking fees are payable before local traffic control will accept outgoing flight plans.”
Mike heard an odd scraping sound and thought it was from Gordon. When he looked Gordon had both true hands palm to palm in front of his chin and seemed calm. Then he saw Gordon’s lower arms were holding each side of the command console and the metal was dimpled under each claw, betraying his real emotions. But again Gordon controlled his voice, far better than Mike thought he’d be able to.
“How long did they take to reply on top of the speed of light lag?” Gordon asked.
“Just shy of twenty minutes,” Lee said.
“OK, so he didn’t say something stupid in a rush to respond, he took his sweet time to think on how to be insulting,” Gordon said.
“I wonder if they gave the Mothers’ survey crew a hard time?” Lee said.
“Not if they came in by commercial transport. This is because we have our own ship and perhaps because they know we are in conflict with the Commission. I’m going to respond to them now,” he warned Lee.
“Look, shithead. I know his Glorious Excellency the Straw boss for the Claims Commission thinks this makes him look important, to send messages through underlings and act like we are the sort of people who might skip out on our bill. I don’t believe for a minute he is unaware who discovered the planet he administers. We own fifteen percent of everything that world below you generates in income, after our own private claims worth a few billion dollars Ceres, not the ass wipe North American dollars with which your boss gets paid. We won’t be treated like this by the hired help.
“You still did not give me the system scan. I’m starting to think you have some reason not to and it can’t be anything good. I have a duty to preserve my command just like those boys too worried to dock on your station. What’s going on you don’t want me to see? I’m altering course to come in on an angle in order to turn my radar array towards you. I don’t want any surprises.
“Please inform me with your next transmission of any armed ships at your station and our status with them. If the situation has changed during our transit and we are at war or something it would be far better to tell me, because I’m telling my number two to take the weapons board hot and set it to auto-launch on a dead man switch. If we take a beam weapon on close approach, one of my missiles is targeted on your station, and the other one will home on whatever the ship AI thinks shot at us. They’re really good Fargone missiles. If you think you can jam them or intercept them, I wouldn’t bet my life on it,” Gordon warned him.
“Up our acceleration a half-g to make up for some of the increased distance, please,” Gordon ordered Lee.
“Board set per your verbal instructions. Sending an altered course to your screen for approval,” Lee said.
“Still too straight in and I don’t want to increase acceleration any more. Add a couple of hours to our arrival time to widen our approach,” Gordon said after looking at it. “Paint them at full power without power diversion when we roll to alter course. We’ll only be able to throw about sixty percent power at them from that angle even on the altered approach but maintain that after we are on the new course. It should show us what we need even if it doesn’t send a message.”
“Changing, sending revisions to your screen,” Lee said.
“Accepted. Have it send the new scan to my screen and make the rest of it happen.”
Mike felt the ship respond and a new screen painted in front of Gordon, though he sat unmoving for a long time and let Lee work. He did finally let loose of the console and fold his lower arms in his lap. The dimples in the metal remained.
“What do you make of that target leaving the station?” Gordon asked, when the newest radar image came in.
“He’s still visible with our radar at 60% power. His profile is consistent with a destroyer and I can’t believe he is a merchant pulling three and a half g. If he’d turn on his radar, I could confirm what he is,” Lee said, frustrated, “probably an older destroyer.”
“He made the correct command decision,” Gordon said. “They’ll hate his guts for abandoning them. We threaten him not the station, so he’s correct to run. I suspect the Planetary Administrator tried to order him to challenge us and turn us away, but he refused. Everything he knows says that he couldn’t fight a ship that can radiate like the Kurofune and our missiles and targeting systems are newer than his. He can’t be sure we don’t have defensive systems or beam weapons. The very best outcome he could expect would be to destroy us at the cost of his own ship. That’s very bad strategy. Of course, as crazy as the Earthies are they may censure him for it back home.”
“A real warship is running away from us?” Mike asked, surprised.
Lee looked over her shoulder at Mike. “He would never say, but the man is likely running away from Gordon as much as the Kurofune. Gordon has a reputation. Have you studied how the war against North America went for the clan?
“How would I? I just know that we won. We all went off to the hills and set up to camp indefinitely. The Mothers don’t tell you any more than you need to know. No more about the war than anything else,” Mike said. “They’d think the details of the war and the politics involved are their business, not mine. If we’d lost, I suppose I’d be dead.”
“You don’t have a pocket phone do you?” Lee asked.
“I never had a phone for work at the Keep. Nothing I did ever required one. I’ve seen them, but I never held one, and I have no idea how to actually use one. I don’t know what they cost, but I’ve never had any cash money to worry about it,” Mike said. “I’ve seen people talk to them, but other times they press the keyboard. Does it do the same things your spex can do or different stuff?”
“A pad can have add-ons your spex doesn’t have room for. Most spex can’t check your food to make sure it is safe or do medical imaging. You can write or draw on the screen of a pad with its stylus, but that’s about impossible to do with spex.”
Lee was still twisted in her seat staring at Mike and feeling foolish.
“I should have realized you’d never have the use of a phone. Or that if you did the Mothers wouldn’t share the history of the war.”
“If I stayed until I had my full growth, so I got military training, they probably would have shared things about the war a soldier needed to know to fight the next one,” Mike said, “at least the details that would apply to my specialty.”
“After all we have been through together, I still find myself not understanding how the Mothers think, and being surprised by things they do,” Lee said, frowning. “When we take the shuttle down to Providence I will buy you a decent pocket pad and make sure there is not only all sorts of general lessons on it, including a good history of the war, but also give you some private files from Gordon and myself that aren’t published anywhere.”
“I have no way to pay you for it,” Mike said, unhappy.
“You can owe me a favor,” Lee said.
“Now that’s a currency with which I’m familiar,” Mike said. “Thank you.”
* * *
“I brought the first hive out of cryogenic suspension while you were out this morning and we only had two percent losses. The queen is laying and they are taking feed. I never did this before, so I was kind of worried,” Pamela admitted. “It’s later than I’d like in the season, I wish we’d started a month earlier, but the climate here is very moderate. There are only a few weeks where snow is a possibility and some of the hardy plants will push up through the snow to bloom. I’m going to let this hive go out and explore before I revive another.”
“How do you get the dead ones out?” Kirk asked. He was curious, but not really comfortable with the bees. Not in any close hands-on way. He looked at the odd stuff Pamela used, special tools to cut wax and protective gear. He picked up a spray can that was labeled Faux Smoke.
“Why fake smoke instead of real smoke?” Kirk asked.
“Real smoke is a health hazard and you haven’t been able to expose people to particulate pollution in the workplace for years. A dozen agencies would have a fit if you did. This has all the chemical triggers of smoke to control the bees and mask their alarm pheromones but is environmentally compliant. As far as the dead ones, they clean them up themselves. They just push them out on the floor. I’m just happy I didn’t have to open it up and vacuum the whole colony out. I followed the instructions exactly,” Pamela said.
“Against all rumor, that works sometimes,” Kirk quipped dryly.
Pamela smiled because it reminded her of her father’s humor.
* * *
“Little by little, they are working up their courage to do something stupid,” Jeff said.
“Earth?” Heather inquired.
“North America in particular,” Jeff said.
“What now?” April asked, looking over the top of her reader, but not lowering it.
“They are taking action against several companies from smaller countries who have sold things to Home and Central in violation of their embargo, Macedonia for selling us chocolates and Columbia for fruit. They seized some bank accounts and indicted some executives for a show who will never be extradited.”
Jeff made a sour face as he thought on it.
“I believe this is simply a shot across the bow at Australia and France. They are threatening them with similar actions. The trouble is, damaging trade with either of them would have serious repercussions. Any action against France could be answered by the whole European Union, and if they had Australian wheat cut off they’d have a hard time replacing it in the current world market.”
“Texas could make it up,” April said. “The micro-climate changes have brought a lot of wheat and rice acreage into cultivation and they are selling plenty of it to Europe and North Africa. It would be cheaper to sell it to North America with less shipping needed.”
“Ha! They’d burn it before they’d sell it to their big neighbor,” Jeff said.
“I wouldn’t sell to them either,” Heather said. “They would probably put ergot in it and claim the Texans were trying to poison them.”
Jeff looked stunned at the idea, but reluctantly nodded his agreement.
* * *
A couple of hours later Providence Control contacted them again. “Kurofune, the Administrator would like to know if you will please cease sweeping us continually with high powered radar if we send you a system scan?” Traffic Control asked.
“Well, at least it’s please now. That’s progress,” Gordon told Lee with a muted mike. “Providence Control, Gordon here. This is not something over which one normally has to bargain. Star systems give any legitimate traffic their scan as a normal thing. We did not break that protocol, you did, though I suspect you did so on orders. Now if you had given me the scan in your first transmission, none of this would have occurred or become a problem.
“The problem now is that I have trust issues. We saw what looked suspiciously like a destroyer making an aggressive run to jump. Would he have been on our system scan or would he have been censored out? What ship was that making no emissions and in such a hurry not to be around us? Did he find himself in conflict with his orders or have some other reason to feel we are unfriendly? It’s rather late for me to start trusting you, and we already cut back our radar to almost half power. I’ll cut it further as we approach, but not off entirely.
“If we decide on closer examination we might not be safe at dock, we’ll leave the system. We have stores and fuel to do so even without mining in this system. I’m not sure what the end of the matter would be if that happens, nothing good I’m sure. One of the reasons we are here is to supply a Red Tree team doing survey work. They have been ceded a huge tract of land and are picking sites for a permanent presence on Providence. It may have implications even I can’t predict to take a message back to the clan Mothers that they are unwelcome as your neighbors and their citizens stranded beyond reach.
“You might remember there was some unpleasantness between Red Tree and the USNA recently. They may easily be convinced those problems were not fully resolved and the USNA thinks they don’t apply everywhere, or worse are simply breaking their word on the matter. The Mothers don’t have much of a sense of humor for that sort of behavior. You can consult with your superiors who don’t seem to regard me as a peer to address directly. For now, the radar stays on and the weapons board live. Gordon out.”
There was silence for an extended moment and Mike spoke from the back.
“Recent unpleasantness? Do you mean the war? I’m taking notes back here.”
“Sometimes understating your case works better than rubbing their noses in the obvious,” Lee said. Gordon didn’t look over at them but nodded.
* * *
“So, we can flip it over, and the bearing works just fine inverted,” Musical said, “But the centrifuge pumps down and runs in vacuum. We don’t have a chunk in one piece to actually show that. Obviously, the thing busted a hole through the top of the containment just like the roof. What is it going to do when that happens again? If we have pieces of busted containment bouncing around inside with the impeller spun up the whole thing may come apart again.”
“I’m going to put a port on that top panel with a thin foil we can change out,” Born said. “I’ll send that to an outside shop to make and pay cash. I didn’t want the engineers to see too much and ask too many questions. The centrifuge only needs to be evacuated to attain top speed. We were nowhere near that when the anomaly occurred. We can shut it down and let it spin down from friction if everything goes well.”
“OK, but what about the concrete dust and spalling?” Musical asked, still concerned.
“I have some coated foam sheets like boxes are made from on order. We’ll lay them on the floor with weights around the perimeter.”
“Ummm, that should work,” Musical admitted reluctantly.
* * *
“Kurofune,” Providence Control hailed them again, “Attached on the data sub-carrier is the system scan starting from your system entry plus estimated lag. The administrator supplied that without condition on the advice of the shipmasters in-system.”
He paused like he wanted to say more but went on in a business-like manner.
“You have berth seven reserved if you wish, and a shuttle schedule is appended to the data screen. Your amended flight plan is received and any updates would be appreciated. Customs has a list of items prohibited to the planetary surface for safety and ecological reasons. If you would examine the list, we request you discuss the need for any variance with their officers, even if you have items under diplomatic seal.
“Auto docking is available and recommended from a kilometer stand-off. Local traffic and chatter are on standard suit frequencies. Thank you, Providence Control out.”
“Well, one would like to have heard what the captains told the head honcho. I’m guessing that they probably said they wouldn’t dock under the same circumstances,” Gordon said. “Note they didn’t approve our amended flight plan, just acknowledged it. I’m satisfied they are much more mannerly. Cut the radar back to five percent power to watch for local debris and let’s look over this system scan to see if it looks honest. In particular, the inter-ship chatter.”
“I’m not comfortable,” Lee said.
Gordon looked over face neutral. “Too much boost? Belt pinching? Too much pepper relish on the ham sandwich? Don’t trust the sneaky bastards?”
“We are going to leave the Kurofune docked crewless and all of us go down to the planet. It’s like an itch between my shoulder blades I can’t reach. I’ve never met him but no, I don’t trust this Claims Commission administrator not to mess with her,” Lee said.
“That would be a very serious breach to interfere with a diplomatic vessel,” Gordon said. “I believe that’s why the Mothers told you to run under their flag all the time instead of on specific missions. They value you and wanted to offer that protection.”
“It should work that way, but I remember my time with my cousin on Earth. Sometimes these minor officials can be full of themselves and do things people with real power would be scared to try.”
“A question, if I may?” Mike asked from the rear seat.
“Ask! I don’t bite,” Lee insisted.
Both Gordon and Mike broke into simultaneous laughter. The dirty looks they got from Lee just made it worse. “That’s one of those unfortunate expressions I picked up hanging around Humans that just isn’t appropriate for dealing with uncouth fanged monsters,” Lee said.
“Indeed, we are much better equipped to do any biting needed, and your clawing equipment is similarly limited,” Gordon pointed out. “But to feel it is necessary to assure us of your peaceful intent . . . you can see how amusing that is.”
“This is why we invented the pointy stick,” Lee told them, making a jabbing motion.
Gordon twitched at that. “If only you’d stopped there, but no . . . you had to make spaceships and hydrogen bombs.”
“And that has made things a lot more interesting,” Lee said. “You seemed to have adapted to using both just fine. If we didn’t outnumber you a few hundred million to one you might have conquered Earth and been ruling over it by now.”
“There’s a critical difference,” Gordon said, “I can’t imagine wanting to rule that madhouse. I suspect they’d never consider the matter settled and keep a treaty.”
“That’s pretty much my own worry, just over the matter of the Claims Commission,” Lee said. “I have yet to see them keep a bargain in good faith.”
“OK, I know about the war, if not every little detail, but what is this about the Claims Commission?” Mike asked from the back seat.
“That’s who pays us for discovering this world,” Lee explained. “When we came back from taking the Little Fleet on a voyage of exploration, they balked at accepting the responsibility of taking our claims for discoveries at such an extreme distance. At least their minor members with only single ships balked hard at them being gone for possibly years. So we are setting up our own Claims Commission for the Far Beyond. The Mothers don’t teach you any of this?” Lee asked.
“I knew the clan had an interest in the Little Fleet when it went off,” Mike said, “because they picked people for spacer training and sent them off. But what you found and all this stuff about claims they don’t tell us little people who it doesn’t concern.”
“I guess that’s one way to keep from getting any dissent to what you are doing,” Lee decided. “Don’t tell anybody what is going on.”
“You’re just figuring that out?” Gordon asked her.
“I’ll put the public release about our trip on your phone too. It’s the logical next history for you after the account of the war. You aren’t going to sit and read them in a day,” Lee warned Mike.
“Thank you. But what I wanted to ask was, why not hire some security to guard the ship while you go down to the planet?” Mike asked.
Lee thought about it. Gordon didn’t seem inclined to answer Mike, though she’d have rather he did it. He knew how Mike lived and could explain it better, but she’d try.
“It won’t work,” Lee finally said. “There isn’t anybody in the system who isn’t subject to the Commission authority. No matter what we paid or what their instructions were the Administrator could just order them to stand aside. If we were going to do that we should have brought our own guards along. I just never expected such a hostile arrogant reception.”
“And yet the ship mounts missiles,” Mike noted.
“Well yeah, because we know things can go very bad, and you have to be ready for that,” Lee said. “But it’s hard to cover all the little ways things can go bad.”
“Those keep some idiot from telling us to stand to and be boarded,” Gordon said. “You do have a point. Perhaps we should change our plans. Lee could accompany you to the island and arrange the transport of our cargo, and I can remain with the ship since our welcome was not very warm.”
“Or I could stay here and you take Mike down,” Lee offered.
“I have identified myself as the master of the vessel,” Gordon said with slow measured words. “You will serve as master eventually, but it is by no means an empty formalism. If the ship was lost because I left it while at dock in uncertain circumstances, I can assure you that those who command a vessel would never regard my judgment well again. I would feel that way about others.”
In the back, Mike was nodding, not in agreement, but at a lesson learned.
“OK, I’ll take him down. I did want to see the island anyway. We picked it off orbital images,” Lee said over her shoulder to Mike. “I picked it because it is far enough from the main continent not to have the dino packs that killed my folks. But by then we were leaving and cut our survey work short. The two of us couldn’t safely continue it.”
“I had no idea you’d never seen it,” Mike said, surprised. “I’m amazed you’d give away something so valuable sight unseen.”
“I ‘m not left poor by its loss,” Lee said. “I have another major claim on the planet that I have visited, and I retained rights to live on the island and use its resources. I don’t expect to want or need enough to put myself in conflict with the Mothers.”
“That opens an interesting door,” Mike said.
“How so?” Lee asked, and Gordon perked up and cocked an ear too.
“You’ve established a clan member can hold private property, land even, not subject to the Mothers’ whims,” Mike said.
“When I came back from doing voyages of exploration with Lee’s parents and some others before them, the Mothers never tried to attach my prize money as belonging to the clan like a contract worker they sent to town,” Gordon said. “So Lee’s situation just broadens that a little.”
“I like to see it headed that direction,” Mike said. “I’m going to think about how to nudge it in that direction if I have the opportunity.”
Gordon did an elaborate copy of a Human shrug. “That’s easy to do if you give them a reason to allow you wider privileges. Both Lee and I were allowed to do so because we brought more to the table for the clan than it cost them to grant. They’ll do so for you in an instant if it is to their advantage to do so. Just be careful you don’t try getting them to do it before you are ready to live independently. They can still banish you from the clan with a word if you miscalculate the value of what you are offering them.”
“I’ll be very careful,” Mike promised.
“Read the history of the clan’s war with North America I’ll load to your phone,” Lee said. “If that and the synopsis of the voyage of the Little Fleet retains your interest you can ask me for more later. I have thousands of hours of personal recordings about my time on Earth and the logs and landing records from the voyage of the Little Fleet. If you read all that, then we have all sorts of material about Human history and endless skills and specialized occupations. You can go down a rabbit hole for a month just reading some interesting thing that diverted you.”
“What’s a rabbit?” Mike asked.
“Think tusfid,” Gordon said, naming a small burrowing animal on Derfhome. “Too small to make cooking them worth bothering, but they bred like crazy and can disrupt the ecology. Humans messed up and ravaged a continent by thoughtlessly introducing them. We won’t make that mistake and allow them on Derfhome.”
Mike nodded, overwhelmed by the prospects of that huge a volume to read.
Chapter 11
“The Earthies have launched an unprecedented number of shuttle flights to service all the Claims Commission ships in Low Earth Orbit, both explorers and enforcement vessels,” Chen reported to The Three. “Not just Chinese and North American ships, but even some long-neglected ships of the minor nations who have effectively left the commission rather than go on multi-year cruises.
“We have no indication of who will crew these vessels, but supposedly they are being fixed up and made usable. That could be a sham if they have problems too severe to really bring them back in service. The supply of national armed vessels has also increased, but less so since they are always maintained better.”
“Are the Chinese or North American shuttles taking workers or materials to these ships of smaller nations?” Heather asked.
“In some cases, yes” Chen reported, “but of course we have no idea who is paying to restore these ill kept ships, or who will crew them. Some of the ships have English signage and instruments, but some have everything labeled in other languages and it would be quite a project to relabel everything.”
“Do you have any idea they are being armed in violation of our limits imposed on vessels of exploration?” Heather asked.
“I’m trying to find out, but it is difficult. Everyone has the tightest security on nuclear weapons. That’s one reason they aren’t kept on a vessel that is effectively in mothballs. When they reactivate a ship and resupply it we can’t really tell what is in the warhead. Even the performance characteristics of a missile can vary a lot without external changes.”
“Do you think they are massing a fleet to flood across the L1 line to attack us in numbers we’d hesitate to stop?” Jeff asked his ladies.
“I do not,” Heather answered. “If they thought such a thing possible they’d bring in every ship from their forward bases and other guarded star systems scattered everywhere. We’d be seeing at least some of them coming home already. I predict they will all seek clearance to depart Sol System as meek as can be until Earth orbit is almost empty of any star capable vessel.”
“Will they harass Derfhome or Fargone?” Chen asked, which was unusual to seek additional clarification from her. He seemed dubious of her statement.
“No, the danger is if they challenge us from outside the Solar System. They then have the high ground, gravitationally speaking. They can attack from any angle and part of the sky with velocity. That’s a superior tactic to trying to attack climbing out of Earth’s gravity well.
“We might be able to do it, but I am disinclined to kill every ship and crew if that’s the choice with which they present us,” April said. “If it gets to that point, I feel the Solar System is no longer viable for the habs.”
“I agree,” Heather said, “however, I will not yield the Moon to them unless they are willing to trade both North America and China for it and I will tell them so in very blunt terms.”
“Agreed,” April said.
Jeff just nodded.
* * *
“We have a notice in the weekly communication to be on the lookout for two operatives missing from Fargone,” Bill King said.
“Did they send their biometric data or are we supposed to guess who they might be on our own?” Sam Burnstein asked.
“Full face photos, clear enough to set decent recognition parameters, but no DNA or fingerprints, no retina pix, voice, or gait patterns,” Bill said. “No hint at all of what their assignment involved on Fargone. I’m sending their pix to your screen.”
It was the two spies who Garrett had captured on the Kurofune.
Sam made a show of looking over each shoulder slowly. “Nope, haven’t seen them. Not our mission, not our concern. If they don’t trust us enough to give us anything but face pix they don’t want them very badly.”
“That’s a scary preview of how hard they’d search for us if we went off the radar suddenly,” Bill said.
“On the up-side, if we ever decide it’s safer to go missing than report in, we wouldn’t want them looking much harder,” Sam said. “Maybe they disappeared themselves.”
“I’m not your political officer, and have far more experience than you, so I have to tell you that is dangerous talk. I can see circumstances we’d agree to such a thing, but they would be rare. A surprise change of regime, where returning home would just put us in front of a wall to be shot would be one circumstance. Why you might want to defect or go dark is not something they are going to cover in training,” Bill pointed out.
“I suspect those skills are assumed in a low trust culture,” Sam said.
“Regime is still a bad word,” Bill warned. “We never work for a regime, because they are evil. There was a story going around a few years back, before you were old enough to shave, that was amusing. One of our agents was in a South American country that was targeted to be destabilized. He worked himself up to chief pilot favored by El Presidente. When the revolution came, he was rushed to the airport to fly the deposed fellow to a safe haven in the Balkans with a small group of his most trusted guards and about thirty tons of gold. He shot the copilot and depressurized the rear compartment with the President and his thugs. The aircraft was eventually found on an airstrip in Africa where it would have been challenging enough to land, and impossible to take off. The bodies were present but sadly the gold was gone and never found.”
“That’s an interesting story, but to pull that off he’d have had to be planning it for a long time to have everything in place to pull it off,” Sam said. “What would you need to do an operation like that?”
“A friend in-country with a big truck like a farmer would use, or the ability to rent one on short notice, a cell phone, and lots and lots of nerve,” Bill said.
Sam sat and thought about it but couldn’t find any fault with it. “I know a lot of agents will vacuum up valuables they find in the course of an operation. They just regard it as an unofficial bonus system. Things like cash or jewels or things that can be slipped in a pocket, but thirty tons of gold?”
“My question is, would you split it with me or get all greedy and decide you had to have the whole thing yourself?” Bill asked.
“I’d have to cut you in and hope you wouldn’t be the one to go greedy because I can’t imagine how I’d start to liquidate thirty tons of gold without getting myself killed. Do you really think you could do it?” Sam asked.
“Sure. You don’t try to sell thirty tons. You sell a few ounces here and there and get known to a couple of refiners. Maybe buy or start a jewelry store and put some ads out you will buy scrap. Work your way up to buying one of the refiners with whom you liked doing business, a business with experienced people who can show you how to re-melt and refine it. Then it just becomes a matter of moving it off the books. You have a cover for possessing significant amounts of the metal. It would require a little patience to do it safely and maximize the profits,” Bill admitted.
“You devious bastard, you could do it,” Sam decided.
“That’s just an example. One never knows what will come along. It could be gems or a trade secret or a design that isn’t patented. Something like a single piece of art or any object that can’t be divided up might be challenging,” Bill said.
“I’d do it with you. My software says you mean it and aren’t trying to entrap me,” Sam said. It was special software designed to read other deeper signs than the sort civilians used on each other.
“Mine says the same thing,” Bill said. “Trust is a wonderful thing, but having a solid metric as the basis for conspiring is golden.”
* * *
The centrifuge was flipped over and secured by two stout bolts and a pair of pins in that position. There was a stack of foam box stock on the floor beneath it with a plain old brick holding each corner down well away from the rotor axis. Musical and Born both had on safety glasses. They waited until after the usual quitting time for others using the building and set a camera up looking at the foam board and a mirror propped to the side viewing the foil covered port added to the containment above the new hollow rotor. Now flipped and pointed at the floor.
“I’m a bit nervous,” Born admitted to his partner.
“Do you want to walk around and check if anybody is still in the building working this late?” Musical asked.
“No, if somebody is still here that’s more suspicious than making a loud noise. How would I explain why I was being so nosy?” Born asked.
“Let’s do it then,” Musical urged, putting his safety glasses on. They were made for a Badger’s face they looked more like old-fashioned aviator goggles than the Human style. Born’s were more conventional with frames but held on by an elastic strap.
“OK, all the numbers are set the same as last time,” Born repeated needlessly, “and hope it doesn’t disassemble itself again.”
He pressed the switch.
Musical folded his ears down and held them that way with flat hands.
> WHAM <
The sound wasn’t as sharp as before but felt through their feet much more. The pile of foam board bowed up in the middle, enough to roll a brick off one corner, and a little concrete dust puffed out from under the stack.
“It isn’t a neat hole,” Born observed after he kneeled close to inspect the foam board.
“Like somebody put a tiny explosive charge through it and set it off,” Musical said.
“Yes, like somebody drilled a hole and threaded a piece of DET cord,” Born said.
“What the babbling little goddesses is DET cord?” Musical wondered.
“It’s a Human thing,” Born said. “I’ll show you sometime.”
“It’s still spinning,” Musical said, checking out the centrifuge read-outs, “even though it lost vacuum.”
“It’s only two hundred seconds. That’s a big piece of steel to spin down.”
“I think this may be a gravitational effect like we want, but if it is an intense field what is the vector? Is it towards the center line or away?” Musical asked.
“Towards,” Born insisted. “Otherwise you are talking about a repulsive field. That would suggest antigravity is possible and as a physicist, everything in me cries out that isn’t going to happen in this universe.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw a flash of light,” Musical said.
“I didn’t, but let’s look at the video, Born suggested.
“Oh yeah!” Born exclaimed. “Not only a flash of light but a brief flame.”
“Makes sense,” Musical said. “No matter which way the graduate, the foam will be compressed enough to heat it and then, being in air, the vapor will burn.”
They both stood frowning at it, thinking.
“Do you want to look at the hole in the floor?” Musical asked.
“Later. We know what the hole in the ceiling looks like. I have a brass bar I use to tap stuff I don’t want to ding. I’d like to put it up against a piece of leftover steel from making the frame, lined up right on the hole. If the force is attractive it will pull the two pieces towards each other and suck material from one side and deposit it on the other.”
“It may briefly pull them together,” Musical agreed, “but then the material in motion may make them fly apart. I don’t want to stand behind either one and try to catch it in my teeth.”
“We’ll line them up pointing away from the equipment bench and set the bricks behind them for more mass to restrain them,” Born said.
Musical frowned at that but nodded his approval after some thought, and they set up to repeat the same cycle.
> BANG <
It wasn’t near as loud as before. The two bars of metal did push apart slightly but nothing went flying as a hazard. Some small bits did spall off the metal but mostly at right angles to the axis of the centrifuge. A few marred the foam board but none reached the scientists.
“It’s to the center axis,” Born said, pleased, holding up the steel bar. The gouge across its face was dotted with brass sucked across from the other bar.
He stumbled suddenly to the side off-balance and dropped the bar. Musical grabbed at his friend to keep him from falling, which was silly given their difference in size.
They took three quick steps away from the centrifuge clinging to each other like drunken dancers, then they stumbled back the way they’d come towards the centrifuge. Born grabbed onto it with his strong lower arms, his upper arms thrown around Musical’s neck. Musical just had a grip on Born’s fur, nothing else being handy to grasp.
“What the hell?” Born asked. Some of the tools and supplies on their workbench were strewn on the floor and his wheeled work chair took off on an erratic excursion across the room.
“That’s what they call an earthquake in English,” Musical said. “We have them pretty often on Far Away, but mostly just little ones like somebody slammed a door nearby. That was a pretty impressive one.”
Another shock jolted them and Born had to hang on to the centrifuge frame. His chair rolled back towards them like it was powered.
“Is a pretty big one. It can stop anytime as far as I’m concerned,” Musical said.
“I know what it is,” Born said. “We get little ones from time to time and a bigger one every few hundred years. But I’ve never felt one this strong before.”
They both reached the same conclusion and looked at the hole in the floor in horror.
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Musical said.
Another little jolt built on that conviction.
“Oh shit . . ,” they said together.
* * *
The original International Space Station was abandoned and nudged to a fiery plunge over the Pacific before the era of orbital commerce made recovering the materials in it practical. The International Space Station II lasted longer, and by the time it was long in the tooth and no longer suited to its purpose there was sufficient demand for orbital real estate to make it worth selling as a fixer-upper.
The private consortium that bought it for their own use and profit included corporations from India, South Africa, Ireland, Argentina, and Romania. It was still international in nature so they saw no reason to rename it, a decision that saved chart makers and compilers of navigational aids hundreds of thousands of hours of revisions and corrections.
Rather than invest in an extensive update of the outdated central electrical and environmental systems the new owners sold or leased space on it using a condominium model which left the responsibility for section support systems to each new owner. This change altered the outward appearance of the station with a proliferation of modern airlocks, private docking collars, radiators, and antenna farms.
This relieved the landlords of the burden of liability for life-critical operations and had the benefit of neighbors being available to provide refuge if one section had such severe problems it became briefly uninhabitable. The primary renters were industrial, so there wasn’t any section with sufficient population to be difficult to move and support. The only residential section was subdivided into private units at a price only billionaires could afford. Besides having a population density nearly as low as the industrial areas, they could afford redundant utilities to put military-grade systems to shame.
Since ISSII still existed it seemed silly to name its replacement ISSIII. Where would it stop after all? The new shared habitat allowed the space-capable nations to make a show of cooperation and host activities involving allies who were never close enough to share space on private satellites where proprietary operations were conducted. The hopeful name was the World Peace Station, or as the Spacers called it, Whoops.
The various interest sections were official or default consulates for their nations to the orbital community. There was no need for embassies since the only sovereign space nations were on the Moon or beyond, and none of the great powers had a good enough relationship with them to want an embassy there. Indeed, they might not be welcome if they asked. The consulates not being on foreign territory could safely harbor intelligence activities normally conducted from the safety of an embassy.
WPS was a safe neutral ground for the transshipment of goods and a hub for making passenger connections to other habs and the Moon, between jurisdictions that would have political difficulties with direct flights. Thus, a Larkin’s Line flight docking from the Moon via Home with passengers destined for a half dozen nations produced no particular anxiety or close scrutiny from WPS Security. What did register an alarm for them was when the feed for the security camera watching that dockage port failed. Cameras were very reliable and these were relatively new. That’s why they weren’t redundant, an oversight that would be corrected shortly.
“John, we have a camera outage on passenger dock four where the Larkin’s Line shuttle just dropped some passengers and departed,” officer of the watch Luca told his boss. This month the station security was North America’s turn to lead. There was a Chinese interest observer and a German Euro observer just like the North Americans would maintain on their watch, but the others didn’t bother to maintain an over-watch.
“Do you have a pressure drop there or any other sensor alerts?” John asked
“No, just the camera seems to be down,” Luca said.
“Has the Larkin’s Line shuttle departed?”
“They are still grappled, but have clearance and are on count to depart,” Luca said.
“I’m sending two officers up there. They are alerted there were passengers dropped off they may pass, and to take a count and get face images in passing but not to detain anyone,” John said. “I’ll watch rather than hand them off until this is resolved.”
“I’m watching their body cam feeds too, they arrived at the elevator and saw six passengers exit to spin,” Luca said after a few minutes. “None of the new arrivals seemed concerned about anything and didn’t react to seeing a pair of security officers.
“The shuttle has departed per their flight plan.”
For some reason, Luca had a sudden regret he hadn’t demanded Local Control hold their departure.
“They are on their way up and the area should be clear now. I have maintenance headed to the bay with a replacement camera. If you’d have your men stay in the area until he replaces it, I’d appreciate that. It’s a five-minute job.”
“Armed intruders!” the lead security man shouted before John could reply and both of them looked back at their screens. Luca was impressed his boss John didn’t start barking instructions and let the security officers handle it without distraction.
Two figures in odd uniforms were standing in the dock area, backs to the approaching security team. They were holding onto the grab rail for newbies and one had his head forward like he was sick. Luca hoped he didn’t throw up. That happened now and then and was a mess to clean up. The other man was leaning towards him and seemed to be talking to him too low to hear. Something was very strange about it. They had on leather Earth style shoes too, something nobody wore off Earth. One had a weird hat on with a shade in front.
What was more important was they both had on Sam Brown belts with a holstered pistol in a ridiculous old-fashioned leather holster with a full flap over it. Old or new, it didn’t matter. The point was they were in a security zone where only limited personnel were allowed weapons.
“Toes under the rail and spread ‘em!” the lead security man yelled. “Lace your fingers behind your neck!”
One man looked over his shoulder, mouth open in an ‘O’ of surprise, but froze. The other started to turn instead of positioning himself as instructed. Both security men took them down with Air-Tasers. Once both had wrists and ankles cuffed, their vital signs were checked and neither seemed in any danger. Everything they did was according to protocols, so neither of the men viewing remotely interrupted, waiting for their report.
“Sir, this is strange,” Olsen the lead security said. “I’ve never seen uniforms like this. They have rank markings, but these are odd fabrics and Earth style pockets with no closure. I think these belts are real leather. The holsters have an embossed big US in capitals. Let me show you.”
He turned the unconscious man so the holster was in his camera view.
“Olson, would you very carefully show me what sort of weapon your fellow has in there?” John requested.
The pistol was blued dark and showed some holster wear. Of the embossed markings, the oddest was it was declared United States Property on the frame.
“Are you familiar with that sufficiently to render it safe and unloaded?” John asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ve shot similar. The hammer is not back so it probably doesn’t have a round chambered, but I’ll make sure.”
“Do so to both, carefully,” John emphasized.
They watched Olsen extract the magazines, put them pocket and work the slide of both weapons turning them so his camera could show the chambers empty. For good measure, he looped handcuff straps through the ports with the slides locked back.
“I’m putting their DNA scan in the system to be searched before I go through their pockets,” Olsen said. He touched his security issue pad to their hands and got a green light that it had a reading both times. Sometimes you got a match within seconds, but nothing came up right away.
Their pockets yielded leather wallets but the bills were unfamiliar size and color with no plastic finish. There were Military ID cards, a sheet of vaccination certificates and in one an old photograph of a woman with a strange hairstyle. Neither man had any credit cards or photo ID. Both had metal embossed tags on a neck chain that matched their paper ID. One man had a plastic hair comb and a paper package of tobacco cigarettes with a red circle on the front that said ‘Lucky Strike’. Both had unfamiliar coins in their pocket and one had a tiny metal tool with a hinged blade on it. The other had a pocketknife with several blades none of which locked open.
“Bag it all and bring it along,” John ordered.
One of them was aware now, his eyes active and alert, but holding very still and not saying anything. The other seemed to have trouble recovering.
Olsen looked at his pad. It announced there was no match in the system.
“Would you send their null scan to the Europeans?” Olson requested.
“I already did,” John said. “I’ve also sent it to the Chinese, even if that seems unlikely, but of course their response is voluntary. I’ll send face photos and we’ll get prints, but I don’t really have much hope we’ll match those if the DNA doesn’t match.”
“A private word,” the Chinese observer said. He waited until he saw John stop the recording, then said, “I am told unofficially there is no match in our system.”
“I know those uniforms,” the German said. “My father used to do reenactments of the First Atomic War. He wore our own uniform of the era, but I saw the American version. These are either authentic or very similar, but not what they would wear in combat. They rank marks are of officers, but I could not tell you what they mean.”
“This is a hoax, and I don’t find it funny,” John said.
Nobody said anything, but the Chinese officer smiled.
“I don’t believe in time travel,” he added angrily, which just made the Chinese fellow more amused but visibly shocked the German.
“There have to be extensive veteran records,” Luca said over his link.
“Yes, bring me the papers and I’ll start that search. Who boarded the shuttle today?” he demanded. “What does the manifest show? Ask traffic control.”
In a few seconds, he had an answer back. “It dropped six off but had no pickup.”
“They deadheaded back to the Moon empty? I don’t believe it. They would layover before they would lose money on an empty flight.”
“They show a flight plan for direct to their maintenance yard at Home. Their web site shows the flight here for sale, but no return flight offered and no explanation.”
John looked furious but said nothing more in front of the observers.
Olsen was putting their belongings in evidence bags. “Sir, I thought you might like to know, all the documents and the money are dated in the nineteen forties or earlier.”
“Thank you, Olsen. We’ll photograph it all and send it down home to be examined.”
He thought about it a moment. “Put them on a close suicide watch in confinement and treat them as military, not civilian prisoners, until we know otherwise. The uniforms give me sufficient reason to do that no matter how dated. I intend to send them to Earth as soon as possible and do not intend to interrogate them locally at all.” He nodded, not for Olsen, but for himself, satisfied he’d done the right thing.
* * *
Pamela was glad Kirk was back from town. The hive started acting strangely just as he sent her a text that he was almost back. She had to decide what, if anything, to do about it. That was hers to decide, but it felt good to have somebody to talk to about it. Kirk didn’t volunteer any suggestions, but he was calm and reminded her she had other hives on ice. Besides being her rubber ducky to discuss the problem out loud, Kirk had the same attentive expression her father had when listening. He didn’t make you feel he was poised waiting for a chance to interrupt you.
The bees were clustering around the entry and oddly favoring one side. They couldn’t possibly be getting ready to swarm. She had several tiny cameras inside and they had no need to swarm. In fact, they didn’t have the resources to swarm and there wasn’t that sort of activity around the queen. Nothing she’d read or the beekeepers she’d talked to had described what she was seeing. Of course, she didn’t have time to learn everything that could happen and how to deal with it. For the first time, she wished she’d had enough time to at least spend a full season keeping bees on Earth.
“It’s late in the day. If they just don’t do anything too weird, such as start pouring back out, they’ll all be back and done for the day soon, and I’ll seal them up. Maybe whatever is bothering them will be gone tomorrow.”
Kirk was leaning on the edge of the desk, looking at the screens with data and camera views of the hive. He suddenly leaned forward and then staggered back upright and took a couple of steps away then back. He clamped his hands on the edge of the desk.
There was a THUMP – THUMP – THUMP. Pamela had no idea what was happening. The thought flashed through her mind somebody was breaking in.
“Whoa… nobody told me they have earthquakes here!” Kirk said.
“I don’t think they’re common, but that must be why most everything is bolted to the walls and floor,” Pamela suddenly realized, glad she hadn’t just burst just forth with her first thought. It sounded silly now.
Another shock hit but Kirk was expecting it and holding onto the desk. Pamela was in an office chair, but she liked to lock the wheels so she could prop her feet up. She still grabbed the desk with her left hand and threw an arm around Kirk’s waist to keep him in place. He shifted an arm from gripping the desk to around her shoulders.
“Should we go outside?” Pamela wondered.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what the hazards would be outside,” Kirk said. “We don’t have our own car so where would we sit? I suspect if the building were going to come down around our ears it would have done so already. I think the second was milder.”
Almost like an affirmation that things were calming down there was a final small shudder and they held on harder, but it became calm again.
“Look, the bees are breaking up and going in the hive like normal,” Pamela said.
Kirk watched but stayed anchored warily, ready for another shock.
“It’ll be sundown in ten minutes,” Pamela pointed out. “I’ll give them a few minutes after and close the port to seal them in the hive room. I’m not sure how but I think they felt something that told them that first shake was coming.”
“I think you might be right. It certainly seems over for the moment. I’d like to get out of here for a while,” Kirk said. “Why don’t I call a cab when the bees are shut away for the night and we can go across the ridge and get a bite to eat? I saw a weird sort of Korean place. I don’t know if they’re any good but at least it is Human food.”
Pamela was suddenly self-conscious that she was still squeezing Kirk around the waist with one arm and his arm was warm across her shoulders. It caused a little flutter of panic because it gave her a warm glow that had nothing to do with the Earth moving. She let go and was about to say something snarky, but bit it off, to not provoke him
“As long as I don’t have to cook it, I don’t care if it’s some kind of People Kibble.”
* * *
The scan Providence Control sent seemed to be accurate. It included the movement of the destroyer which was now identified as the USNA Maui. It was an older vessel but undoubtedly capable of killing them since the Kurofune didn’t carry anti-missile missiles or beam weapons. The two Fargone missiles they carried would undoubtedly avenge them, but they wouldn’t be around to appreciate that.
It was a benefit for at least a little while that the Kurofune was unique. Nobody could know for certain what she carried. The two large ship to ship missiles were rudely obvious being carried externally, but it would take time for images of her to filter back home to the analysts and an assessment made about what else she could fit in her hull. Until then the cruiser level of radar she carried would make most captains assume she had other cruiser level enhancements until assured otherwise. Not that Gordon wouldn’t like to have all that defense and firepower, there just was no way to carry it without being the size of a heavy cruiser. That wasn’t the purpose of a diplomatic boat. It would be nice however to sit and give some thought to what they could install and carry to give the opposition a nasty unexpected surprise. The idea made him smile. The situation seemed stable enough to take the weapons board off launch via deadman. But there was no point or advantage to telling the locals that.
The images of the destroyer leaving, and more importantly, the radio chatter about it from civilian captains would be difficult to edit in the short time frame they had, so Gordon concluded they were being honest. He felt safe and took the Kurofune to dock. He didn’t announce he was going to stay on board, but anyone with an unhealthy interest in them would be aware of it.
He’d spoken publicly with Traffic Control and anybody could hear he had two crew and a passenger. Anybody who could count would see only two of them left the ship at dock. One could arrange to leave the ship with freight or in a suit, but it would be difficult to pull off with no allies in a strange port. Gordon was comfortable keeping his own company. He had books and reports he wanted to read and art he’d been working on for years as he had time. It was really a bit of a vacation.
Chapter 12
“Some of the stuff is authentic, and some are reproductions like you would use in reenactments or movies,” the supply officer reported to Luca and John. “With a few of the pieces, there is no way to tell if they are original or fakes. The real original pieces are expensive as all get out, the paper money in particular. The leather is real leather but fake-old. There are ways to preserve leather now, but they have been invented since stuff this old would have been cracked and oxidized too far to benefit from the treatments.”
“What about the pistols?” John asked.
“They are real, and the one marked as manufactured by Singer is worth more money than any of us make in a year. The ammo was made in Europe within the last few decades, however. Whoever did this wasn’t poor. The whole thing added up to a small fortune to pull off.”
“For a joke that demonstrates a sick sense of humor,” Luca protested.
“I suspect we are not the target of the humor,” his boss, John, said, “and indeed, we probably won’t ever know who this was supposed to bother or why. Likely it is a very important somebody or somebodies.”
“Some of it really surprised me,” the logistics expert said. “The documents are fake but whoever made them had an antique fountain pen and knew how to write with it. The marks it makes on the paper are different than art pens. The mechanical marks underneath, not the ink, and the forms on which they wrote are correct.
“The medical officer says there were traces of hypnotic drugs in both of them that will have removed short term memory so we can’t get a report from them about how they were transported and inserted on the station.
“It will be some months before we know if they have lost any long-term memories and the entire time they will be at risk of having false memories created if anyone attempts to interrogate them beyond reading their reactions to certain words and phrases. Just being in a strange place with new people their brains may incorporate the new material and try to integrate it. They were in a state of reduced cognition and awareness when confronted. That’s why they didn’t obey the commands.”
“All that is assuming the people holding them didn’t induce a false set of memories either deliberately or just in the process of bringing them here,” Luca said. “They may have been kept unconscious for part of that process too.”
“That would actually have been a kindness to have kept them unaware while in that state. But they set up a situation here that could have resulted in fatalities,” John said.
“What irks me,” Luca said, “is once you pull a stunt like this, and it gets free in the wild, you never get rid of all the conspiracy theories and wild conjecture. If you try to suppress it, that actually makes it worse. It’s a pain in the butt and just the sort of rumor that interferes with legitimate governance.”
The supply master’s face froze for an instant, but if he disagreed he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t safe to take the other side of that.
The hatch opened without any notice on the intercom or their pads that they had visitors. John turned with an angry face to object to the intrusion, but his expression turned to horror.
The visitor in a black uniform was a single star Space Forces general with two of his own security behind him. Hanging further back in the corridor were two civilians with camera foiling masks. He stopped just inside the hatch with one security man stepping inside just far enough to scan the entire compartment. The civilians hung back but could listen.
“Gentlemen, I am here to relieve you of your two prisoners on behalf of offices above mine in Homeland Security. My men are presenting papers to your guards and signing receipts right now to remove them. We require all the artifacts associated with them. They are no longer your concern and all records of them will be purged from your system before we undock. I strongly suggest you purge your own memories as well as possible and refrain from directing unwanted questions to your superiors after we leave. There is no benefit to be had in discussing them among yourselves, and a risk doing so would result in leaks that would be regarded as a very serious breach of security. Are there any questions?”
All three of them shook their heads no. The one star gave them a smile that was more a snarl and turned on his heel. His guards let him pass through them before they also turned and left.
“Offices above his in Homeland,” John quoted, “those guys out in the corridor.”
“None of our business to even know what agency,” Luca agreed.
“Spooks,” their supply guy said out loud. Expressing what they couldn’t bring themselves to say.
Yeah, but whose spooks? John thought, but said nothing.
* * *
Pamela listened over dinner while Kirk related all the public records he was sifting through. The Foys were in temporary quarters and he set up surveillance of the embassy they were building. He was surprised there were native private eye services he could use to do that and other easy tasks. It might be important later to have their floor plan and easier to get now while it was framed out. He explained their principle contact and ally on Derfhome was Lee Anderson of the Red Tree clan and explained the tribal Derf Keeps were impenetrable to spying, but the girl lived in town and kept an apartment at a hotel. He confirmed she seemed to entertain the Foys on a regular basis. They had a lot of personal goods in storage and he put a camera watching that facility too. He ran down and had to eat before it was cold. She made small talk about growing and family trips in New Hampshire and Maine. It was really sweet that he nodded and made comments about her stories. She didn’t think it was of any real interest to him but he was polite. They really should eat out together more often instead of just fueling up at their building like college students on a budget. She wanted to know more about Kirk too, and it was easier to ask such questions over dinner that would be inappropriate at work.
* * *
Gordon set a sensor pack hanging on a stiff cable outstation from them. Two hundred meters was a safety zone into which you went at your own risk to give ships an envelope in which to do external repairs or off-load freight. He kept it well inside so nobody could object, but that gave coverage to alert him is anyone or anything approached the ship from outside. The lock on the dock had alarms of its own of course, and he went to bed without feeling any anxiety about his security.
When he got up he instructed the galley to make him breakfast and checked his screen for messages. The monitor showing their dock had a figure standing with its back to the ship, not close enough to trigger proximity alarms. It was a uniform Gordon decided because the pants and jacket were the same color and tailored tight. The figure had a pistol on both sides, the left one turned to be cross-drawn. One was probably a Taser and one a lethal weapon, he decided. Which was worn on the right side to be the primary choice would say a lot about their rules of engagement.
Lee said the locals were excruciatingly polite and they had transport arranged to the island, but the rates quoted for flying them there and for freight service from the station were ruinous. Nevertheless, she had said to expect a team to remove their goods for the survey team tomorrow and she agreed to their fee without an objection. She wondered if they hadn’t padded the bill on orders from the administration to discourage them.
Gordon smiled; he understood how Lee thought, and she’d pay a million dollars Ceres to move it without blinking if she had to, just to deny them the satisfaction of seeing her distress. They still might not understand how rich she was. Or maybe they did understand and figured they could gouge her.
After finishing his breakfast unhurriedly Gordon considered whether to satisfy his curiosity about the man stationed outside. He appeared to be a guard, but Gordon hadn’t ordered one for all the reasons he’d told Lee, and she wouldn’t have requested one if she didn’t agree without telling him. Like Lee, he didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeming upset about anything, so he decided to go meet the fellow, but to forgo even the ax that was just normal social attire for his species, with no message or significance intended.
When he opened the lock, the Human turned. It was a woman and Gordon was irritated with himself for not perceiving that. As long as he’d lived with Humans he should have figured that out from her build. Other things like hair and jewelry were superficial and subject to local custom, but the wider hips and daintier hands should have informed him.
“Good morning to you,” Gordon said. “I’m curious who stationed you here? We didn’t contract for any security services. I hope if anyone has actual business with us you don’t intend to turn them away, do you? We have people coming to off-load freight for the planet tomorrow.”
The young woman only turned half-way so she could still observe the public area over the dashed dock line. Gordon approved. She gave Gordon a salute and it seemed to honor him not be a sarcastic gesture.
“Sir! I’m from station security and was told to secure your dock from any unreasonable protests and alert you if anyone came demanding to register a complaint who seemed overly aggressive or violent.”
“You seem to have kept the crowds down nicely,” Gordon said, amused, looking up and down the near-empty dockage. “In honesty, I think any complaints originated in the vivid imagination of your commission administrator. If anyone has a gripe send him along and I’ll try to satisfy him. Meanwhile, I do understand you are following orders and appreciate your service. If you need some comfort like a good cup of coffee or a seat so you don’t need to stand, let me know.”
“I have a fellow who can relieve me from time to time,” the guard said. She turned her head fully so the back was to any dock cameras. “It has been pretty light duty so far,” she said with a wry smile and a big wink. “There are lots worse assignments that I’m happy not to be stuck on today.”
Gordon nodded. So the guard was aware this was a farce, and if she was aware of it at her organizational level, then probably most everybody knew it was a crock of crap except the idiot at the top.
“Will you be visiting the station? I can call a cart for you if you wish,” she offered.
“Nah, I just wanted to say hi and see what you were up to,” Gordon said. “Carry on. Hail me if you need anything. Be aware that besides some freight handlers my daughter Lee will be returning, but probably not for a few days – if you are still here.”
“I’m sure I will be or another who I’ll brief,” she said.
“Oh, I should mention my daughter is Human. She’s my stepdaughter although we don’t make that distinction in the Derf language.”
“That’s interesting. I’m sure it won’t be any problem,” she promised.
Gordon nodded again, the Human gesture an unthinking habit now, and turned back to the ship. His thought was – Why isn’t this polite, reasonable person, running the planet instead of the jackass they’ve put in charge? But it would never do to say that.
* * *
The Foys had a final tasting. Casimir and Walton thought most of the items picked to produce were palatable for Derf, something they thought important and Eileen didn’t correct them. The fact the entire stock might be transported to another star system for a Human population with few or no Derf wasn’t any of Capital Provision’s business. Their false assumption didn’t hurt their needs so Eileen ignored it.
Eileen was amused to think if she’d revealed that to them, they probably wouldn’t believe it. The economics of it were impossible with the drive tech the Derf and most Humans were using. Most of it would still be tasty in twenty-five years and safe to eat at fifty if not appealing in appearance and with reduced taste. The first shipments would start being delivered to storage in a week or two.
That storage was going to be a major cost factor and Eileen found a newer storage facility that was cheaper outside of the town proper across the southern ridge. She made sure the pallets were set on rollers and new stock could be pushed in one door and old cases taken out of the door on the opposite side of their warehouse when the time came to rotate their stock.
Capital Provision was happy to work on a cash basis with no contract as long as they got an advance on the first year’s production and the word of the Voice of the Sovereign of Central to make periodic payments to stay ahead of their sunk costs. A long-term contract would have locked in commodity costs that might change on them from one scant harvest. Everybody was happy.
* * *
The Red Tree survey team had a landing strip leveled and safe for the sort of short take-off and landing haulers that were common on a new world. They hadn’t really needed to do much to create it, just found the flattest area that already existed from a satellite laser survey, removed patches of higher vegetation, and filled in a few dips and potholes that might catch even rugged landing gear. The cost of flying the supplies out was probably four or five times what they were worth, but that would have been true even if she’d bought them locally at a higher cost. With the cost to bring them down from orbit, it was probably a wash. Assuming they weren’t ripping her off.
Their base camp was nearby and the scenery from there was beautiful with the central mountains of the island visible in the distance. The area around the base camp though was relatively boring. The survey team had one report ready to take home. They initially followed a stream that had its headwaters in the plain of the landing strip to the coast and then circumnavigated the island noting where it might be feasible to make an artificial harbor with breakwaters. There was no natural harbor on the island.
None of the places the crew visited appealed to Lee as a home site. Lee was interested in a place up a mountainside far enough to have a dramatic view. She was kind of disappointed but didn’t want to take the time to do a hike as far as the mountain slopes with Gordon waiting for her. When she did come back she wanted to have a landing shuttle that could put her down directly on the island. No more chartering bush planes at tremendous cost. She’d also bring some small off-road vehicles, maybe a dirt bike and a couple of four-wheel ATVs. She’d have to learn to ride a bike but videos of people riding bicycles and motorcycles fascinated her and she wanted to learn.
The fact the Mothers left the survey team to do everything on foot irritated her. It was going to take them forever by her standards. She didn’t give any thought to how much bigger those vehicles would have to be for Derf and their equipment and that they didn’t use them at home either. She’d come to that conclusion later.
Still, she did get to see her island. It was subtly different than the valley Gordon had helped her claim. It was drier and warmer, even though surrounded by ocean. The survey team assured her the far side of the island was wetter than this side. They did confirm there were no dinos. Native or not she was prepared to remove them entirely if they had found that any had managed to get to the island.
The survey crew had far fewer requests for supplies than she would have expected. As Mike predicted, they were happy to have a phone to contact her next time she made orbit, but nobody suggested they be told how to use it to contact the Mothers back home. Sending a data chip and looking for another contact in a year to year and a half was just fine with them. They all seemed very content with their work and the level of their support. She decided this was another area it wasn’t wise to push to change.
The third flight to the island delivered the last of the supplies and Lee took it back to the main town with a spaceport which was unimaginatively called Providence Landing. She had all the data chips for the Mothers and a bunch of messages for friends and relatives. While on Providence she opened a bank account so they didn’t have to pay cash for their docking fees at the station. She’d need it someday anyway when she returned and wanted to build a home on the island.
* * *
“It’s interesting,” Sam Burnstein told his partner Bill King. “I’m looking at their public car service records and they have taken the Foys to the Capital Provisions several times. They spent quite a bit of time there. Much longer than you’d expect for them to make arrangements to provision their embassy. The embassy isn’t even finished yet. It seems early to do that and I’d expect Red Tree clan will be sending a house manager and support people to order supplies and do that sort of thing for them anyhow.”
“Have they filed public contracts?” Bill asked.
“No nothing at all. They may be aware all contracts are a matter of public record and have taken steps to see their business with them is kept private,” Sam guessed.
“Yet they never drive themselves and take the car services everywhere,” Bill said.
“Car service. Once they found one they liked they always call them now. They’re new to Derfhome and the way they do things,” Sam said. “Maybe they don’t know the security for things like the car service records is pretty much wide open.”
Bill smiled. “Good, good, how convenient for you. See where else they visited after the provisions people. We need a chart generated with running updates for the big screen. We want their visits to Lee Anderson and various businesses. No reason not to include where they visit restaurants and their bank. If we can find common points where they meet others or a pattern of alternating visits with others, we can figure out what the devil they are doing. You need a network chart and a Venn to compare.”
“I think I need to visit the provisions company too,” Sam said. “I just need a reason.”
“Go ahead,” Bill invited. “Buy something. Or investigate buying something for a fictitious client. We haven’t scratched the usual sort of budget we run. Buy a few tons of Graham crackers or something. I always liked them as a kid.”
“Anderson’s Derf father uses the car services too when he comes to town. I’ll run a chart on him, and anybody else I can think of that touches their lives,” Sam decided.
“Do you want the snots from the State Department charted too? I can’t imagine they are in cahoots with either the Foys or Red Tree,” Sam said.
“Sure, go ahead. It isn’t that much work once you automate it. It will be interesting to see if they figure out Ms. Harvac and her lackey are some sort of government agents.” But he said it Haaa’vuc with a soft drawn-out ‘a’ New England-style.
* * *
“Is that your rent-a-cop out front?” Lee asked. “She nodded politely and knew my name. I thought you decided nobody had the independence to be of any value?”
“That’s a freebie from the local administration to keep the angry mobs off our dock,” Gordon informed her. “Surely you saw them milling around somewhere between the shuttle docks and here shouting slogans and brandishing torches and pitchforks?”
“Who would be angry with you?” Lee demanded. “I know a few ships delayed docking when we came in-system, but that was because they were treating you like an invader. I think any sensible ship’s captain would understand that.”
“The Claims Commission Administrator is unhappy with me, so I imagine he expects others to share his vision. I do see how others go along with him from this. The young lady out front is his official planetary police, not hired commercial security, and she knows it is all ridiculous theater, but there she has stood for three days and today so far. She gets paid and told me there were worse assignments.”
“It’s Earth Think,” Lee blurted out, and then was embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ve been around the Foys too much and am picking up their attitudes and slogans.”
“I can’t say they’d be wrong on this,” Gordon said. “It is after all run by an Earth Agency under Earth nation treaties. How could it not display ‘Earth Think’?”
“I wasn’t careful enough,” Lee suddenly decided. “I could have ended up in jail again. I wasn’t thinking how everything here is Earth oriented. I bet one of the first things they did was build a jail for people like me.”
“The memory of what happened the last time they jailed you under their laws may be fresh enough in mind to deter them,” Gordon suggested, “especially with me sitting here overhead with nuclear weapons.”
“Oh… the guard outside is for their protection, so no nut case comes around and pisses you off,” Lee suddenly realized.
“That’s probably a pretty accurate analysis,” Gordon agreed.
“Well, let’s go home and stop making them nervous,” Lee said.
“Tell Local Control we’re on count to leave. Be gracious and ask if our proposed departure conflicts with any local traffic. Just kill them with kindness, and I’ll tell the nice young lady out front on the dock and suit frequency that we are sealing our dock access and dropping utilities so there is nothing more for her to guard,” Gordon said.
“Let me use the head and throw this crap in my bunk locker and I’m on it,” Lee said.
Gordon gave his assent since he was back in Ship Master mode.
* * *
“The bees are definitely finding some nectar analog out there in the wild,” Pamela told Kirk. “There are some imported Earth plants, but I doubt there are enough in range to support our bees with no help from native plants. Fortunately, simple sugars are common to most biological systems. I don’t know if they are finding anything to substitute for pollen yet. I inquired of some exo-biologists before we left, but nobody could tell me any details of what Derf plants use for pollen. That is, they knew there was a similar germ form, but no idea what its composition might be. We could afford to continue to support them that way if we have to, given the local price of honey.
“Can you tell the new honey from the old to get a sample soon?” Kirk asked.
“Yes, I have one frame with a blank foundation put in when we thawed the hive. They are building comb on it and that will have all local honey. I want to get a sample of that before we start trying to talk business with the locals,” Pamela said.
“Makes sense to me,” Kirk agreed. He really appreciated Pamela was saying ‘we’ more instead of I and you… He didn’t feel she was as adversarial as at the beginning. When he smiled at her she smiled back now instead of looking suspicious.
“My work is going good too,” Kirk said. “I’m seeing more connections and details. The Foys not only have personal properties at the storage place on our side of the ridge but they rented an adjoining space and are getting regular deliveries there. There aren’t any public contracts attached to it, so I’m still trying to figure it out.”
* * *
Lee had a message marked urgent from Born and Musical when she returned. She read her messages inbound to Derfhome Station and informed them when she would be home so they could conference face to face. She didn’t want to discuss this on com.
It was two days before they docked and she took the next commercial shuttle home with Gordon, and he took off for Red Tree. Whether that was for business or pleasure, he didn’t care to share with Lee. She stayed in Derfhome, not only to see Born and Musical, but also to continue to work with Sally on the new registry.
Lee invited her researchers to her hotel, where she was sure she could receive them with some privacy. Even given the differences between species she got much more information from a face to face meeting. She could read the emotional content better than off a screen.
Besides gross body language, a Badger’s whiskers and a Derf’s ears made little motions in response to the other speaker’s statements that you could miss switching back and forth between camera feeds. Listening to their story there was a lot of bristling whiskers and twitching ears to be seen. They were disturbed and had good reason. Lee agreed their take on the earthquake was probably correct, but she felt she had to mention the other possibility.
“It could be coincidence,” Lee said.
“It could be, but I don’t want to run the machine again to prove a correlation given the risk level of doing so,” Born said. “This was fairly far up the scale for Derfhome earthquakes. We don’t want to set a new record. Of course, we have only been measuring them for the last few hundred years, but there are subjective reports of their strength and how much damage they did for a couple of thousand years.”
“No, I wasn’t trying to minimize the danger to get you to run it again,” Lee said. “At least not here. We can find a safe way to go forward with the testing. We’re going to need a remote area and portable equipment. We need to find out how far this effect propagates. It may be necessary to lift a machine to orbit to test.”
“Musical intimated we were lucky the first time the line was pointed off into the sky that we didn’t hit a passing aircraft or Derfhome station,” Born admitted.
“Yes, we were lucky nothing of that magnitude happened,” Lee agreed, “but I have to check the news sites for that day and a couple after to make sure we didn’t kill somebody with the earthquake. It was an accident. If we busted somebody’s lawn ornament or knocked their booze off a shelf I’m not too concerned about that, but if we really hurt somebody I need to make as much compensation as possible.”
She furrowed her brow in thought. “I need to check the Earth web for unnatural earthquakes too.”
“People know earthquakes happen,” Born said. “You don’t expect to be compensated for it any more than a windstorm. You use approved designs for your building and make other provision for these things if you are a responsible adult. Also, you didn’t make this happen, it was Musical and me running the machine, or just me who actually pressed the switch if it comes down to exactly placing blame. You are most generous to say ‘we’ and accept responsibility for our actions. I won’t hold you to that. I can assure you with some certainty that none of the Mothers, yours or other clans, would declare their law to recognize such a broad liability.”
“I know that,” Lee said. “Humans view the matter differently. I was raised disconnected from Human society but I still share some of those feelings. I suppose I picked it up from things my parents said rather than direct instruction.
“In most Human law if you set an event in motion you are responsible even if the harm wasn’t at your hand directly. If a group robs a bank and someone is killed they will all be charged with murder, even the getaway driver waiting outside.”
“That seems like a terrible idea that would smother innovation,” Born said. “Who would tame fire if the clan held him responsible for any who got burnt? Who would learn to build a bridge if bridge-building was halted if one ever fell down? Would you charge the people who sold the materials for the bridge that fell down? There has to be a limit to that or pretty soon you are charging those who failed to halt it from being built.”
“I know, I know. I’ve been studying Human history like an outsider,” Lee said. “I think much of recent Human history is a rebellion against that way of thinking. From what I can see the current forms of Human politics and their use of corporations are intended to remove individual responsibility. If anything, I think they have gone too far the other way, so nobody can be identified or held responsible for anything.”
“I had thought someday to visit Earth,” Born said, “but you are talking me out of it.”
“Visit Fargone or the Earth’s Moon if you have to get that close, but honestly I will never go to Earth again. My experience was most unpleasant.”
Born nodded. “I am advised, but on the machine, what is your will? What do you want to do now?” Musical was content to let Born talk but was nodding agreement too.
“I’ll find a safe spot to do more testing and arrange transport to take our equipment there. I guess I’ll buy something. You both have other work and duties, I’ll see to it your time isn’t wasted going to the test site, so your bosses don’t get unhappy with you.”
“That’s more of a problem for Born than me,” Musical said. “I can say with some confidence Talker would detach me from any responsibility at the embassy to help you. I don’t think you realize how deeply you are in his favor. He calls you friend and that isn’t something a Badger does lightly.”
“And I don’t want to impose on friendship,” Lee said. “But thank you for advising me. If the project should start to harm your status at the university tell me,” Lee demanded of Born.
“I will. I have a relationship now with Leader Bacon which allows me to speak in blunt terms and he feels free to respond the same way. So, an enhanced status is actually one of the biggest benefits I’ve enjoyed from working with you on this project. He heads a third of the colleges in the university and I doubt he knew me by name before.”
“Good, I’ll let you know when I have a safe test site,” Lee promised. “You said your machine displayed this behavior well below its top rotational speed. Rather than transport such a big piece of machinery, why don’t you see if you can build a smaller version with a lower speed capacity? That will give you something to do right now.”
A glance went between the two. “We can do that,” Musical agreed.
“Fine, then let’s have lunch,” Lee said, and signaled for it to be served.
“Did you have an interesting trip to Providence?” Born inquired politely.
“Yes, but let me tell you about how it went, and you’ll see why I advise against visiting Earth. Those who are familiar with the culture speak about Earth Think. It definitely was in evidence when we had to deal with the Providence authorities.”
Chapter 13
“Ah-ha!” Sam exclaimed, exultant.
“You found my secret stash with the good bourbon?” Bill asked.
“I found where the Foys are stashing the stuff they are buying in secret,” Sam said. “They have actually rented storage space not very far away, on the back side of our ridge from a new company that just built there.”
“Does that mean you won’t be going to Capital Provisions and if I want to dip Graham crackers in milk, I better buy my own?” Bill asked.
“On the contrary, I want to know what they could possibly be buying in such large quantity that they can’t even keep it in their new big embassy. I’ll propose some business to them and see if I can get a tour of their plant. Now how to do the same with the storage company? They’ll tend to have better security than most Derf businesses. They are going to be responsible for other’s goods and no telling how valuable some of it might be.”
“Rent a storage room or locker,” Bill said. “You can use it to store my crackers after bringing me a sample box or two. That will get you in the gate and maybe even in a common corridor or building. You do remember how to pick a lock?”
“I may be a little rusty,” Sam admitted, “but I really don’t expect the local variety is going to be very challenging.”
* * *
“I think we can do this ourselves,” Born insisted.
“Maybe you can do it yourself, and I’ll help where I can,” Musical said. “I’m not a machinist and not a design engineer. I shouldn’t have welded up that frame for you. Now you want me to do stuff totally out of my depth.”
“You only need a design engineer if you want an elegant design. A pro can give you a plan for a device that is as light and thin as possible because he knows all the details about material strengths and stress concentrations. He’ll make sure you don’t spend a single dollar more than needed for your just-strong-enough design. But we can do the same thing for our centrifuge you did for an angle iron frame – build it ten times as strong as you need and don’t worry about pretty.”
“Tell me more,” Musical said, worried. “I’m not sure how to apply that design philosophy to something doing sixteen hundred turns a second. It’s dangerous.”
“You already have a robust design. Use the same commercial bearing one size smaller with a smaller disc and the shaft hollow all the way through since it worked OK for the top half already. Make a smaller enclosure for all of it with a slightly thinner wall because we won’t spin as heavy a disk any faster. It’ll end up about half the weight.”
“And job it out cash to local shops without the engineers again?” Musical asked.
“Absolutely, and none of the shops should see the whole thing,” Born said.
“Ok, but we drop Lee a text with pix so she knows what we are doing,” Musical said.
“Sure, but beware she doesn’t send us a complete machine shop,” Born joked.
* * *
“I’m Bernard Lloyd of Benson and Lloyd,” Sam lied with practiced ease. He’d also had his lingering traces of a conscience chemically removed, so it would take a very sophisticated veracity program to detect anything was amiss. That was something only the largest Earth nations used sparingly in their intelligence services. He presented his card to the receptionist/secretary at Capital Provisions.
“I’m not sure exactly to whom I should speak. I have an Earth client who is interested in buying shelf stable provisions for a planned expedition and outposts in the beyond. Who does your sales and production planning?” Sam inquired.
“You want our sales manager. His short customary name with Humans is Walton. I’ll give him your card and see if he can take a break and speak with you now.”
“Do you do much business with humans then?” Sam asked.
“Sure, everybody has to eat,” she said cheerfully. It came to her so easily Sam suspected it was a stock answer, but not very informative.
Walton came back with the secretary card in hand. He had on spex like Sam, which surprised him. They weren’t a big item with the Derf. He’s seen them on Derf at the orbital station and at his bank. Also against all odds, a sandwich shop he frequented had spex on all the help.
“What can I help with Mr. Lloyd? I should I say solicitor Lloyd?”
“That’s the British version, my brother-in-law calls me counselor, but I’m just Bernie. When I hear Mr. Lloyd I look to see if my father is behind me.”
“That would happen with familial names, wouldn’t it? You’ve taught me something already,” Walton said.
“I’m hoping you will instruct me,” Sam said smoothly. “My partner and I advise both Humans and Derf on dealing with Earth law. On occasion, we do the reverse and get asked to explain Derf law and custom to somebody who wants to do business here.
“We had a North American client that is looking and planning to seek leases and rights when the planned Derf Claims Commission becomes active. He’d like us to find out for him what supplies could be staged forward from Derfhome instead of Earth.
“Can you quote me what Human compatible foods are available on a two-year lead that can be transported and stored well in a Derf similar climate?”
Sam expected to be told he’d need a month to consult and then they would need to discuss Human tastes and dietary requirements. Instead, Walton said, “Miriam, print out catalog twenty-three and a price list good for three months for Mr. Lloyd.
“Two things,” Sam said. “Sometimes clients have a silly thing on which they are fixated. Rather than argue I try to humor them.”
“Oh, we don’t have any customers like that,” Miriam said, and rolled her eyes, “other than the fellow who demanded a different font on our sweet bun labels!”
“Good, then you understand. The only item he specifically inquired about was Graham crackers. One supposes he is a big fan,” Sam said and made a face raising his eyes and looked to the heavens. If she didn’t know that Human gesture yet Miriam could add it to eye-rolling in her repertoire.
“It’s on the list,” Walton said, laughing. It seemed to be genuine amusement. “I will gift you a case as a sample to take away if it will fit in your car.”
“It’s that big? I’m using a car service, so I can ask for a delivery van I suppose.”
“Do it,” Walton suggested. “It will give you something to report to your client you know he cares about. We can formulate them differently, but the usual version we make is heavily seasoned with a local spice similar to cinnamon and sweet. Humans seem to like it too.”
“Thank you. The other thing is I wonder if I can get a walkthrough?” Sam asked.
“Not in the production area. You’d have to suit up and it’s a big bother. We can do a walk around not through and you can see some of the lines from above. You’ll see there aren’t that many people on the production floor, but we have some windows that look down on it. Then out the back, and if you call now for your ride you can see your crackers loaded up and join the driver to return home.”
“That would be very nice and as much as I need to tell my client what my overall impression of the operation is,” Sam said.
“He probably wants to know it is clean and you don’t see vermin running down the aisles,” Walton said. “A lot of people have no idea how automated we are and they think anything off Earth is backward. You’re too polite to say so, but I’ve had to dispel that sort of misconception before.”
“I’m not sure he has a bad impression but if he does I’d correct it,” Sam said.
“Come on then, we need to go up to the next level,” Walton said, motioning him to follow along.
* * *
“My buyer at the Fox and Hare informs me our vendor of Roquefort and Gruyère has told him they are currently sold out and unable to fill his cheese order,” April said. “I’m not sure how long Gruyère is aged, but I’m sure Roquefort is aged in caves for so long there has to be a huge stock of it in storage that is released to the market on a regular basis. One finds it difficult to believe they suddenly have none. They made apologies but made no effort to even suggest alternatives or indicate when they’d be available to us again.”
“When they serve orange sorbet in hell,” Jeff assured her, deadpan.
“So, they are starting to cut us off,” April said.
“Even as bad as the economy is in North America, they still buy a lot more from France than all the Spacers put together ever will. They are seeing to their own interests. No point in getting upset with them over it,” Jeff told her. “Just buy blue cheese from another source. It will lack the mystique of the regional label and the inflated price. It will be made from milk and probably the same mold culture as the real thing. Though, if you can find me two people above the atmosphere who can taste them both and tell you which is which, it will surprise me. Even the difference between the sorts made with cow’s milk instead of ewe’s. If they cut us off from Champagne, we’ll just have to suffer along with some other sort of bubbly too. Do make sure we have the cultures in case we have to set up production on one of our own planets.”
“There are other Human settled worlds I’d rather ask to produce anything involving cattle or invasive species before we take a chance of messing up the ecology on our worlds. Both of them seem rather fragile and I’d rather not risk them.”
“That works for me,” Jeff said. “There are a few worlds with Amish or Mennonite colonies and they probably make some kind of cheese already. It would just be asking them to add another variety. I don’t know if they make wine at all.”
“Neither do I,” April said. “I’ll make some polite inquiries.”
* * *
“Your Graham crackers are outside in the parking lot,” Sam said, rummaging in his desk for a box opener. “Would you help me bring them in?”
“You know I’m no fan of pranks?” Bill said. It was more warning than question.
“No joke. I got a free sample and a Derf case of them is thirty boxes of four tins, each tin two kilos divided into four sealed foil packs. It’s too heavy to drag and too bulky to tip back on a two-wheel cart.”
“Then how did you load it?” Bill asked.
“The damn Derf driver just tossed it in the back like it didn’t weigh anything.”
“You could have had him bring it in,” Bill said.
“I could, but he was smirking and thought it was funny. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d have probably charged me to carry it in,” Sam said.
Bill sighed. Sometimes Sam was a pain in the butt.
“Coming,” he said.
“I asked for a quote on shelf-stable Human food,” Sam said, as he hacked the crate open. “He just quoted the catalog number by memory and told his secretary to print a copy and current price sheet out for me.”
“There’s that much of a market?” Bill said, surprised.
“Yep, a list of fifty-four items, only four of which they warned a lot of humans disliked. He took me around an enclosed catwalk that looked down on their operations. If you didn’t know what they were making it could be any sort of manufacturing. The actual food is rarely visible until it is all sealed up in cans and boxes.
“But then this fellow, he goes by Walton,” Sam said, “took me out through the shipping department to give me these crackers and load them in my cab. I ran my spex in recording mode and got what I wanted.”
“The secret plans?” Bill said, in a thick Eastern European accent.
“Sometimes, I don’t think you appreciate me,” Sam objected.
“You are a fine partner, but even Ms. Harvac, as irritating as she can be, is a lot cuter than you. Being an agent sure limits one’s dating options,” Bill said.
“Don’t complain about it or they may give you a pill for that too,” Sam said.
“See this?” Sam pointed out the Derf writing, hoping Bill would drop the other topic. “When I was walking through shipping there were some big crates like this with writing I couldn’t read, but in English, it said ‘Foy’ right in among the Derf characters.”
“Hot damn, you do have them dead to rights,” Bill agreed, “now if we only had some clue why they are stockpiling a bunch of food. Are you still going to go break in and find out more about what kind of food they are storing?”
“I’m not sure it worth the risk now, what does it matter what kinds of food? It’s not like they are hiding nukes or something. I’ll keep the room in case I change my mind. We could ask Headquarters if they have a clue why they would be doing this in the next report,” Sam suggested.
“Hmm, maybe after we know more. This is pretty thin,” Bill said.
* * *
“This is wonderful, how did you take this video and get it out?” Lee asked.
“When the last passenger left Larkin’s shuttle, they didn’t even wait for them to get out of sight. They killed the surveillance camera with a laser and hauled the spies out and dumped them against the opposite bulkhead with take-holds for newbies. They gave them a spray up the nose to start them reviving and let loose a drone that flew up in the air duct, attached itself and started recording. When all the action was over, the drone backed up a little and went into a quiet waiting mode where it didn’t emit anything. It just listened and when the next Larkin shuttle docked there three days later it was signaled and flew in the shuttle hatch and was recovered.”
“They’ll know it’s a hoax of course,” Lee said.
“Oh sure, to try to make it seem real would take years to plan. This was expensive enough as it was. The paper on the documents was wrong, the ammo was too modern, the leather goods were reproductions. But this sort of thing leaks out and is a pain in the butt for them. It mocks them, and the harder they try to suppress any news about it the more it convinces conspiracy nuts that they are covering up a real event.”
“I’m surprised they couldn’t ID them right there,” Lee said.
“They remove their agents’ DNA and other data from the databases. Supposedly so they can’t be “made” from a hack. If anyone has hacked you that badly you have far bigger troubles than them identifying an agent,” Eileen Foy assured her.
“That helped the chaos and general confusion. Just to put the frosting on the cake we picked an era where we know the original records were lost and destroyed. Then in doing brain scans of these two to find out who they worked for and what they were up to we established their real names with some certainty. The brain really trips its circuits to your childhood name. So we put that on their false period documents.”
“I’ll share it with the Mothers,” Lee said. “I was concerned they might see this as a treaty breach and start talking about war again. Turns out they have a wicked sense of humor I didn’t understand and are delighted by this. You did it… artistically.”
“Thank you. It freaked out the brass badly enough for them to send a special group to take custody of these two, instead of just quietly returning them to Earth. That again played into the false narrative. The drugs left them in no state to be interrogated. They’re useless now as agents and will probably be pensioned off.”
“Or quietly shot in the head,” Lee said.
Eileen shrugged. “Which is no worse than you could have done to them, by all the standards of civilized warfare, when you caught them spying in your vessel.”
“We’re not at war with them,” Lee objected.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Eileen told her, scowling. “At best you have a cease-fire with these people, because it is convenient for them. Vic corrected my thinking on this. They’d destroy you in a second if the opportunity presented itself and not ponder the morality of it for a moment.”
* * *
“What’s up?” Pamela asked Kirk when he came in.
“The strangest thing, Lee Anderson had a meeting with a couple of locals. One I understand. He is a Derf at the big university in town, but he came with a Badger from the Badger and Bill embassy. Why would they be working together, and to add to the mystery they rented storage at the same place the Foys use and have made a couple of trips out there. They charged the rental to Anderson.”
“Maybe they aren’t connected at all,” Pamela said. “Maybe they are just cheaper being over on this side of the ridge and getting most of the new business. I read the earthquake wasn’t as severe on our side of the ridge, something about the geology and soil being different.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. I want to get in and see what these people are doing with all this storage. How are you coming along?” Kirk asked.
“I have a tiny sample of the local honey,” Pamela said. “Not enough to take to the food processors yet, but just enough to test. Do you want to try it?”
“Yes, as long as you realize I’m no expert. I’ve had regular honey, and once I got a tiny jar of orange blossom honey in a gift basket. But I’d enjoy trying it,” Kirk said.
Pamela squeezed a scant cubic centimeter on a spoon and handed it to him.
“It’s darker than clover honey which is probably what you consider regular honey.”
“Have you tried it yet?” Kirk asked.
“No, I wanted to see your reaction first,” Pamela said.
Kirk nodded. A few weeks ago Pamela wouldn’t have given a damn what he thought of the honey. She wouldn’t have offered it or consulted him. He used the tasting to give himself a quiet moment to reflect on that. When Pamela looked expectant, he raised a forestalling finger like he was thoroughly considering the honey.
There was no way to call attention to this change in his status with her without ruining it. He had to just stay silent and accept it with good grace. But he didn’t trust such a big change in such a short period of time. He couldn’t see anything he’d changed to merit it. Best not to read too much into it in case it flipped back the other way just as quickly.
“It has a much stronger flavor than I expected,” Kirk said. “The closest flavor I can think of is nutty, but a hint of bitter like walnuts. See what you think.”
Pamela took even longer than him to wait for any faint after taste.
“I can taste it too. What comes to mind for me, however, is buckwheat. Have you ever had that?”
“I’m not familiar with it at all,” Kirk admitted.
“Our cook used to make buckwheat pancakes when I was a little girl. I’m not sure if it was a regional New York thing or ethnic. She was European. I haven’t run into them elsewhere.”
She sounded nostalgic.
“Well, Derf don’t seem put off by strong flavors. I predict this will sell to them just fine,” Kirk said.
Pamela nodded like she took his opinion seriously, which was kind of scary.
“A thought,” Pamela said. “There can’t be that many renters in the storage facility yet. It’s brand new. Two are already connected in your mind. You should make an effort to discover who else is in that building from public contracts and surveillance.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll start on that tonight. I’m glad you’re making progress.”
“This hive is definitely thriving. They aren’t taking up that much pollen substitute. And they are making honey in excess of the sugar support we gave them. I’m confident enough now to bring the others out of storage before we lose too much of the summer. When I have enough in the new frame to extract a half liter, I’m going to approach the processors to show them what sort of a product I will have available for them next year.”
* * *
“Something is bothering me,” Atlas told his mentor and professor Leonardo.
“I remember, you were quite explicit in saying Born and his Badger helper, or whatever he is, irritated the hell out of you.”
“Yes, but beyond that, I’m trying to figure out what they are doing with all these disks they have been bringing in and coating on the machine. I’ve been in their place, and unless they are sending them to the scrap yard or throwing them in the trash they don’t have room for them. I’ve been in Born’s offices and lab. It would be filled up to the ceiling by now if they were keeping them all.”
“I doubt they are scrapping them out,” Leonardo said. “I’ve seen what they are spraying or sublimating on those disks and no scrap yard would touch them. They have all sorts of things that would ruin them for spec steel or anything but junk steel, structural stuff or cheap castings. Some of it is even toxic.
“Besides that, I find it hard to believe they’d toss the funds they have invested in those disks. I’m not sure what they are looking for, but if they need to retest one it would be an unnecessary cost to make it over. If I were them, I’d consider stripping any off that were unpromising and recovering them.”
“Yes, although their patron seems to have a bottomless purse, Atlas said.
“Even so, anything they don’t have to spend can find its way into their wallets,” Leonardo said. Atlas nodded. He was of a similar mind on budgeting.
“I tell you what, take some time and find out what they are doing with these, or if they are saving them up where they are storing them. I might even rescue a couple for us to examine to try to figure out what they are doing if they’re lax with their security.”
“Why not?” Atlas agreed. “Obviously they are just toxic trash with which they are being somewhat careful. They may even come to us for help in disposing of them.”
“In which case we’ll be ahead of the curve and look even better,” Leonardo said.
* * *
“This-is-not-good,” Heather said. If she’d had a screaming fit it would have alarmed April less. When Heather spoke in a flat slow cadence it scared the snot out of her subjects who knew her. There were just enough instances of her doing it in her weekly court to make it a common meme in the Central population that such an emotionless pronouncement meant somebody was about to have a very bad day.
“May one ask?” April said cautiously.
“Our friend and ally, Lee Anderson, of the complicated Derf name, has run a search on the Earth Web. Not her hired men,” Heather noted, “but by her own dainty hand. She asks for a search since the rebellion of Home for ‘unnatural, unexplained, and low probability earthquakes’ and in a second search asks for the dates of known North American bombardments by Home during the military action.”
“Well, she should get about ninety-five percent of the related action from that search. She’ll probably fail to tie in the minor earthquake in Japan from sinking a USNA aircraft carrier at their dock. I’ve always thought it was terribly reasonable of them to forgive us for that,” April said.
“If it had just been parked there minding its own business yes,” Heather said, “but when they fired on you in orbit sitting tied up to a Japanese dock they really threatened to drag the Japanese in on a war they didn’t want to join.”
“So they have a gravity lance or something very similar because they triggered a quake there,” April guessed. “Has there been enough time to be able to confirm a quake happened on Derfhome from conventional news sources?”
Heather didn’t answer but there was a flurry of key clicks while she searched. She always turned the voice mode off with somebody else in the room.
“Two weeks ago. What they describe as a hundred-year earthquake, with minor damage and no loss of life. We got the news report here two days ago in the data dump from the ship before the latest. It just didn’t fit any of our search parameters to pop up right away. She may not have even gotten the report to her inquiry back yet.”
April sighed. “You can’t search everything. We should copy Jeff, don’t you think?”
“The report was through Chen, so he already has a copy. He has it and has had time to read it, so he must not be too upset,” Heather said. “He hasn’t said anything.”
“They have to have the same material Jeff’s mom makes or something very similar,” April decided. “It will bother him they beat him to it. There’s a bright side though.”
“Pray, tell, I can use some good news,” Heather said.
“They didn’t beat the news here in a fast-jump ship.”
Chapter 14
“Sir, I have additional details about the two agents returned to us unconventionally at Peace Station,” his head evidence tech told the Head of North American Interstellar Intelligence, Don Paul.
“At this late date? I didn’t know somebody was still working it. They’ve been retired off active duty haven’t they?”
“Yes, their memories were already corrupted and they were given additional false memories about their retirement to leave them content and sure they’d gotten a very good deal in their parting bonus and benefits. One has retired to the Gulf Coast and is nuts about recreational fishing. The other returned to his boyhood home, in of all God-forsaken frozen places, Minnesota, and appears to be stable and happy. However, we have continued working the extensive physical samples we took off them.
“Between the two agents, we took about a thousand tape impressions to catch any tiny foreign particles or DNA. We also had fingernail scraping and several hair samples and callus shavings. Several of them returned unknown DNA that like theirs wasn’t in any of our databases. However, one returned a positive for Derf DNA. That led us to do a thorough scan of fecal material that was sampled in their early confinement. It returned a hard positive for a Derfhome berry that is used in confections and pastries popular with both Humans and Derf. I have to advise you, they appear to have not only been in contact with Derf but likely were on the world long enough to eat locally. We have found no examples at all of the fruit in question being exported commercially.”
“I’m irritated,” Don Paul admitted. “They did not get the information we required on Fargoer missile systems and went haring off after some other target of opportunity. They probably were tired of the plodding day after day grind of their assignment and thought they were going to make a career-enhancing splash. They had no business going to Derfhome, and I can’t imagine what they pursued was worth it.”
“And yet, somebody paid a lot to rub our noses in the fact they failed,” the tech said.
His boss looked thoughtful, then nodded. “We have two long-term agents doing general intelligence gathering on that world. Tell them to be on the lookout to identify effective but unnamed local opposition. Format the report within their need to know limits and send it off in their next dispatch,” he ordered.
* * *
“They’re on the right track,” Jeff said when he returned, and did a slow elaborate shrug. It was a shrug accepting the inevitable, not of indifference. “Of course, we don’t know if they are on the same track since we have no clue how my mother makes the quantum fluid we use.”
Jeff stayed respectful and never spoke against his step-mom, but his frustration was visible. She absolutely would not share the process. The lengths to which her nation of birth, China, went to control her and her work had only reinforced that resolve.
It wasn’t them she didn’t trust but her lack of one hundred percent certainty that they could keep her secrets from China. They had after all lost one ship to Chinese capture, and the kilometers wide crater where Jeff bombarded the Chinese spaceport at which they’d landed it didn’t reassure her. Yes, he kept them from disassembling it and reverse engineering it. Two other devices had self-destructed from snoopers. She didn’t see it as three successes, she just saw it as three episodes way too close to catastrophic failure.
“We’ve allied ourselves with them,” Heather pointed out. “I do not mind keeping an eye on their activities such as searching the Earth Web. But to actively snoop on them in their own territory I’d be as treacherous as the miserable Earthies.”
“We had this discussion and determined there was no moral way to inhibit them before we associated ourselves closer with them. Less so now,” Jeff said.
“Perhaps you are looking at this the wrong way,” April said carefully.
They both looked at her, expectant.
“We all decided to not interfere with their research and offer them protection in exchange for guarantees they wouldn’t share it with Earth. The more we see of the Claims Commission response to them the more I think it was angst over nothing. They never were going to come to any agreement with Earth, and by the time the Earthies ever decide how they will pressure Derfhome and their competing claims system. It will be too late. The Derf, or at least Red Tree clan Mothers and the owners of the Little Fleet will have a fast-jump drive and Earth won’t be in a position to do anything about them.”
“Neither will we, come to that. There aren’t enough of us,” Jeff said.
“The Owners of the Little Fleet is a silly euphemism for Lee,” April said. “Well you know it is,” she insisted when they both made faces. “Is that so hard to accept? You might as well fess up to the fact Heather is Central, same thing.”
“That huge hairy father of her’s has a considerable interest,” Jeff insisted.
“Yes, and she has him eating out of her hand,” April said.
“What?” April asked of Jeff’s strained expression.
“It’s just that’s such a mental picture.”
“Oh, it is isn’t it?” April said.
“We’ve drifted away from your thought,” Heather said.
“Well yes, please don’t slap a Solar down and offer bets, but we’re pretty much all three reconciled to the fact they, Lee really, is going to have a drive as good as ours, or even better in months at worse but certainly within a couple of years, agreed?”
With the slightest hesitation, they both nodded. Jeff had changed his mind.
“Why aren’t we moving closer to them instead of away?” April asked. “You said there aren’t enough of us to manage them, well why are we still holding off on giving them actual help to perfect their drive, so it isn’t us and them, it’s we?”
“Because it makes us look weak and indecisive?” Jeff said.
“If it were Earthies saying that you’d be complaining they were stiff-necked and too stubborn and full of Earth Think to change to altered conditions,” April said.
“Why are we three still a tier distinct from our peers?” Heather asked. “Even from my publicly declared peers as Sovereign? There are levels of trust that one does not just breach lightly. We’re talking about opening up and revealing the basic secrets that give us power and with which we trust each other. I know we all have others we’d say we love, but what we have is more complex. You don’t alter any part of that lightly and we’re talking about admitting Lee to those same levels of trust we wouldn’t extend to Dakota or Gunny or Mo.”
“How do we make that plain? It’s not like we can ask her to marry us,” April said.
“I’m sure you are being a little flippant,” Heather said, “but I haven’t seen anybody else like Lee who would come close to being able to contribute on a par with the three of us. Not because she is filthy rich, that’s the very least of it. Things seem to happen around her. We can’t just say we want to ally, we have to do it.”
“She makes things happen around her,” April insisted. “Just like us, it’s true. The filthy rich part just naturally follows from that. I can’t see she will ever be around us long enough to grow close like we did, which is a shame really. She has her own interests far away, but I do admire her, and that’s not flip at all.”
“I already get ribbed about you two in male company,” Jeff said. “They commonly just say ‘your ladies’. If we added a third lady, I can’t begin to imagine how they’d harass me.”
“Since when do we care about gossip and snickering anyway? Figure it for jealousy. In the long-term, if we ally closer with Lee, we’d be merging the people under us too, most of Central certainly, and some from Home, with the people associated with Lee. That would be elements of both her Little Fleet and Red Tree clan. It’s not like they’re Earthies. They’re some good people. I see it as a positive,” Heather said.
“She and Gordon are Fargone citizens now too,” April reminded her. “Not that we aren’t already working with Fargoers. We could lose some personal influence, but we might end up with a wider confederation that accomplished all the things we wanted including being an even better restraint on the old Earth philosophies and divisions. Can we spare a little power and influence? It’s not like we’d be exiled or paupers.”
“It isn’t just the risk of sharing the drive,” Jeff said. “There will be other risks, some of which we can’t predict. We have no idea how Earth may react to our new relationship with Derfhome. They probably don’t see the fine differences we do between the Mothers and Lee. It’s too complex to predict all the consequences.”
“But we’re halfway committed just by putting them under our protection,” Heather pointed out. “So we’re just talking about expanding that.”
“One hopes we’d be sharing some of the burdens of restraining the Earthies and creating a larger interstellar society with these new allies,” April said.
“Let me put it another way,” Jeff offered. “If they are so close to a drive why do they need us? They are liable to say we’re doing just fine, we don’t think we need you now thank you. You should have helped us before when we really needed it.”
“Mmm… I am simply hearing fear of rejection there,” Heather said. “Are you sure this isn’t a bit of male ego speaking? You aren’t usually a chest beater,” she added to soften it. Jeff still looked taken aback.
“Do you want to hear a noble and selfless reason we could change our minds and help them?” April asked.
“Yes, yes I would,” Jeff said. “I know you are nicer than me, forgive me Heather, but I think you may even be nicer than Heather, because being Sovereign forces many not very nice choices on her. However, I can’t imagine how helping them could advance to the level of noble and selfless instead of self-serving and pragmatic.”
“You may be right,” April speculated, “I can be nicer because I’d rather avoid conflict, but Lee’s people just came within a hair of screwing up big time and causing a tragedy. If they have any brains at all, it should have terrified them how close they came to destroying a town and killing lots of people. You do remember the little problem we had known as the Great San Diego earthquake? Imagine doing that to your own people. It wouldn’t make you very popular.
A look of enlightenment spread on Jeff’s face.
“You get it I see. We can say we want to prevent them causing the same harm we did accidentally and if they get to the point of drive testing, spare them sending some poor guys off into the unknown never to return, like James Weir.”
“That would work, wouldn’t it? This is why we work so well together, I’d have never thought of that,” Jeff admitted.
“Nothing dishonest about it,” April claimed. “There’s nothing wrong with framing what you offer to do in the best possible light.”
* * *
“Master Leonardo, I found out where the physicist and his alien are taking the disks,” Atlas said. Leonardo seemed testy this morning and addressing him by his academic rank always helped smooth matters.
“They’re selling them at the clump of booths the Humans call their flea market,” Leonardo predicted sarcastically.
“Indeed, they might if they had sufficient imagination,” Atlas agreed. Leonardo used Atlas to sell scrap metal and university property they had unofficially declared ‘surplus’ in the common market, so he was familiar with the process. He got a small skim and the funds went in a cash discretionary fund.
“They are saving them up in a common storage facility over past the ridge.”
Leonardo looked thoughtful for a few heartbeats… “With no special security? In a public facility?”
“Exactly,” Atlas nodded agreement, “Just a basic metal building with common slide latches and padlocks on the doors.”
“We also need some extra storage I think. Be sure to get it in the same building, or with access to it, and take a few things there to establish visiting it as normal. Use the discretionary cash fund too,” Leonardo instructed.
Atlas smiled and nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
* * *
“The latest dispatch warns us the missing agents we were asked to watch for are thought to have disappeared on Derfhome, and we are asked to be on the alert to identify any effective agencies in opposition,” Sam said.
“Print it for me, would you?” Bill asked.
“The header runs to over six pages, and the actual order three sentences I told you,” Sam said. “Do you really want the message number, authorizations to emit, parties to which it is copied, security level, all the preceding mission authorizations and crap like our location, which I presume you know?”
“Point taken, it’s noise to us. They don’t put it in terms of watching our butts so we don’t end up disappearing the same way?” Bill asked.
“You know we’re pawns, not knights. They just want to know who is taking their game pieces off the board and messing with them,” Sam said.
“Does that mean they recovered remains?” Bill wondered.
“They don’t say. We probably have no need to know,” Sam said.
“Funny, it seems like we have the most need to know about it from where I am sitting if somebody is disappearing agents here,” Bill said.
“You take everything so personally,” Sam said.
* * *
“I backtracked the deliveries to the Foy’s storage,” Kirk said.
“However did you do that?” Pamela asked.
“I’m kind of embarrassed to admit it, but there is a commercial service that orbits two high altitude drones around the city and will sell you video as a monthly service for a very reasonable subscription. Once you subscribe, they will sell historical data for a little higher fee than the current feed. It really made things much easier. I just never thought to look for anything like that because it would never be permitted back home. If they would allow it, they’d reduce the resolution until it was useless and blank out all the government facilities.”
“They don’t blur them out here?” Pamela asked.
“No, though I have to admit there isn’t much to blur out, and what’s there isn’t like military or anything, just city offices, and a tiny road repair yard,” Kirk said.
“So what are they receiving?”
“Food. They are getting food from a place called Capital Provisions, and it’s in boxes and cases so it’s not fresh or frozen stuff,” Kirk said.
“That doesn’t make any sense. We were looking for them to do something like building a new shelter off in the boonies to store seed and genetic material,” Pamela said. “That’s what they have been collecting on Earth that triggered this whole investigation.”
“They’ve managed to keep this out of the public record,” Kirk said. “If people hide stuff, I tend to think that is what they consider their important business. I don’t see them going to anybody like a construction company to build a seed vault. All their business building the embassy is right out in the open, and I checked where else their builders are working. It’s all common local stuff for other Derf.”
“I’m mystified why they would need food, and why they would hide buying it,” Pamela admitted. “Do you think they are planning to bring people here? It would have to be a pretty big group, not just embassy staff, to need food stockpiled. Where would they live? There isn’t much rental space in the city and they aren’t building anything like apartments or barracks.”
“I don’t know either, but when you get that sample ready, I think you should approach Capital Provisions to make a presentation. I need you to get on the inside there to discover what is happening and get in that storage facility too.”
“That’s easy. Anybody can get in there if they have an empty unit to rent. The food people are a lot more difficult. I can make my pitch and see what happens, but as soon as I dig for third party information his veracity software is going raise all sorts of warning flags,” Pamela said.
“I have yet to see Derf using any veracity software, and if they did, I’d bet it is keyed to Derf biometrics. If you can slip in one statement or question about the Foys, we could at least find out what direction we should be investigating,” Kirk said.
“You’ll have to help me with how to do that,” Pamela said, anxious.
“Of course, but you’re an old hand at protecting your job and programs in the Department where everybody scrutinizes your every word. You’ll do just fine getting these unsophisticated outworlders to reveal something.”
He and gave her hand a little supportive pat of encouragement and then left it there.
“Thank you,” Pamela said, and blushed a little at his praise, but put her other hand over his and smiled.
* * *
“Kirk is the investigator while dear Pamela runs the front company,” Sam said.
“That makes sense. Her family is all big business people,” Bill said. “I’m surprised she went to work for State. Daddy would have set her up in something if she’d wanted I’m sure. And I don’t mean some dinky beekeeping operation.”
“Apparently he has not discovered you can get the car service records pretty easily,” Sam said, “but I’m embarrassed. He has been paying money to a company and when I investigated them, I found they have an eye in the sky drone that circles around at thirty- five hundred meters and monitors the whole city day and night. Two drones actually, so they see it in stereo so not much is hidden behind large structures for very long. I wish I’d know that it would have been very handy. The amateur got ahead of me on that.”
“Well, better late than never,” Bill said. “You can probably buy back records.”
“You can, but it’s a lot of data to process, and a lot of it will be stuff I already discovered other, harder ways.”
“Right, well, let an artificial stupid run down some of the side interests like other people who visit Miss Anderson or our State Department entrepreneurs. If they find any repetitious patterns you might check them without wasting too much time on it.”
* * *
“North America is trying to play the victim because Lee and Gordon visited Providence. Read this, it’s bizarre,” she told April and Jeff.
April finished the teaser first and just rolled her eyes.
“They make it sound like an invasion,” Jeff said. “For crying out loud...they discovered the planet and own chunks of it. If the Earthies don’t like them visiting Lee and Gordon should kick their butts out for reneging on the deal like we said before.”
“Read the rest under details,” Heather said. “Of course, one in ten thousand will do that. They have them trained that the three-paragraph-teaser in larger print tells them everything they need to know, but Gordon is of a like mind to you. That’s pretty much what he threatened to do if they broke their contract. He pinged ‘em with high powered radar pretty hard when they denied him system scan and scared the USNA destroyer at dock so bad he ran scared for jump on a very short count. Such a short count that I bet he left people behind on station or on-world who couldn’t make it to the ship on time.”
“Well sure,” Jeff agreed. “You said it was both Lee and Gordon. ‘It was a trap! There were two of them!’ They’ll forgive the destroyer captain when he explains that.”
“The basic story repeats in too many news outlets not to be an official government story they want the public to know. It’ll be repeated for days,” Heather predicted.
“We’re already committed to protecting them,” April said. “If they would demand Providence back over breach of contract, do we support that? You know the Earthies, and North Americans in particular, aren’t going to accept the concept they defaulted. They’re going to regard it as an aggressive act of piracy or war, not a defensive action.”
“Questions of morality aside, I want to be on Gordon’s side,” Jeff said.
“Gordon is scary,” April said. “I’ve seen the recordings. I’d be seriously worried to fight him even with fast-jump ships. I’d be concerned he was in my head three moves ahead and I’d be like that poor bastard at Fargone who came out of jump to find Gordon gone – jumped out – and still took a missile right down his throat Gordon left behind aimed at where he guessed the fellow would emerge.”
“Of course, to continue what we discussed before, if we give them the drive, we’d then have Gordon as an ally to develop fast-jump tactics. I hadn’t thought about that. I bet he’d put a real polish on what we’ve developed,” Jeff said. “I wouldn’t want to admit that to their face, but it would be a real bonus to get his tactical skills.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Heather told Jeff. “Our tactics all turn around the fact we are fighting run-to-jump ships with no-run fast-jump vessels and jump drones. We have no tactics for fighting ships equal or superior to ours. If we meet a race out there that has been fighting peer ships for years, they are probably going to hand us our butts at first. We’d just have to hope we could learn fast enough and catch up before we run out of ships.”
“I’d address the other thing you mentioned,” April said. “We can’t give them the drive the way they might expect. We barely get enough quantum fluid to meet our own needs. All we could give them is a design and say – Here you go, this works, if you can figure out how to make this stuff.”
“Or something very similar,” Jeff said.
“I think they’d believe us,” April said. “Or at least Lee would, and she could persuade them, but we never thought the Earthies would believe that. Whatever they made to generate an artificial earthquake it has to be similar to our gravity lance. The big difference is they have a process. If they get it to work for a drive similar to ours, they aren’t going to be material-limited. From where I’m sitting, unless you have a lucky hit on duplicating your mom’s process, we’d be getting a better package from them.”
“If their process produces a similar material maybe it would reveal a path forward to duplicate my mom’s stuff. Then we’d have two routes to the tech,” Jeff said.
“It’s a possibility,” April agreed. “But that all hinges on the way things are now, before they have an equivalent technology, and before Earth does something stupid again to disturb the political balance. The window of opportunity could pass us by. If we wait, things could stay the same, or improve, but honestly, we are talking politics and I’ve never seen things just spontaneously improve. Don’t you guys think we should ask Lee back here and make her an offer she can’t refuse?”
“No!” Heather said so sharply it jarred April. She’d expected Heather’s support as a given, and that she’d have to work to win Jeff over. “It reeks of arrogance to demand she appear before us like a supplicant. One of us should go to her.”
Jeff sighed. “I’m the guy who can explain the theory and who cobbled up the engineering. I guess it’s on me to go talk to them. It will be interesting meeting these two fellows she hired. I only know them from reading their web searches and them contacting me, thinking I was my own grandson. But I have a little insight into their thinking already.”
April had a dozen things leap to mind to say, and swallowed them. Jeff flipped and decided to go, and all she could do by saying too much would be to talk him out of it.
“Do you need anybody else along?” Heather asked.
“No, but I think I’ll take the Hringhorni if you don’t mind. I haven’t used her in a while, and I don’t need any serious freight capacity or heavy arms. I’ve never had need of it before, but I think you should elevate me to being a Voice at least equal to Eileen. Just to keep straight who is ranking the ranking peer, out on the sharp and pointy end where we can’t consult with you quickly or easily.”
Heather nodded easily and handed a heavy ring to him without ceremony.
“Go armed, with companion drones,” Heather said. “The Derf don’t mind personal arms as long as they are holstered, so don’t fly them unless you need them.”
“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t leave some things I’m doing right now to come along,” April said. “But do check in with Eileen and Victor first and give them my love.”
“OK, and I’ll take them some special treats like coffee,” Jeff said. “Would you have Dakota find out what else is scarce and a luxury there?”
Chapter 15
Kirk came in and pulled a chair up next to Pamela working at a bench, but turned the other way to straddle it facing her. “You hit the nail right on the head telling me to surveil the storage place,” Kirk said. “There are two lawyers renting a room there who are both from Earth. They have expensive offices up on the ridge and I did a traffic analysis of their office and had the private eye agency approach them. They don’t seem to have many clients and aren’t all that eager for new business at all. In fact, they put the agency fellow off and recommended a different Earth attorney as more suitable to his needs. Now I find the attorneys have a storage room in the same facility as the Foys.”
“Maybe they all meet there secretly every Thursday evening for poker,” Pamela said.
“Did you know this fellow to be an avid poker fan?” Kirk asked. He laid a full-face photo of Bill King in front of Pamela. She pushed the microscope on the bench with a dead bee away to look closer.
“Oh, that son of a bitch!” Pamela said, face growing angry. “He’s a lawyer OK, but was State Department through and through, and a snide, nasty piece of work. He hates anybody who shows a little bit of class and made so many enemies he ended up resigning to everybody’s great relief. I’d hoped he was riding a garbage truck or working in a slaughterhouse after he was gone.”
“Worse, I think he became a spy,” Kirk said, “but if he is, he’s in an agency too dark for it to be in our database. I don’t like that. It implies they’re the nasty sort of operators.
“If he was sent here to screw up our operation, I’m going to kill him,” Pamela vowed.
“He and his partner were in place here before we conceived of this mission,” Kirk said, “which doesn’t exclude that they might have been told we are here if another agency got wind of it or discovered it on their own.”
“King’s lazy. I can’t imagine he found out on his own if it required any initiative.”
“Do you know this one?” Kirk asked, and showed her Sam’s photo.
“No, but if he’s with Bill, well, somebody has to do the work,” Pamela said.
“I’ll keep a close watch set on them with alerts to my phone, and learn more if I can to build up a pattern of activity and travel,” Kirk said. “Do you want to go into town and get some dinner? I’d like to try that Italian place if you are interested.”
Pamela put a hand on his far shoulder, leaned over and nuzzled him. “I’m interested,” she said in his ear, “but maybe a bit later. I’d rather spend some time with you before we run into town.”
Kirk stopped breathing. He’d been of a like mind for some time, but reluctant to discover if his boss felt the same way. The risk did add to the excitement.
“Are you sure about this?” Kirk asked. “Are we going to be able to work together?”
“I think we’ll work together just marvelously,” Pamela assured him.
* * *
“Very interesting,” Sam said. “Miss Anderson has occasional visits from an unlikely couple of aliens, a local Derf and a Badger from their new embassy. He smells of the sort of thing we do, running intelligence officers out of embassies. He’s supposedly a ship technician and the Derf is a sort of physics professor. I can’t see their professional interests overlapping and it’s hard to believe it is interspecies love.”
“Do the Derf have tech advanced enough for aliens to want to steal?” Bill asked.
“Not that I have ever heard. They use human tech but if there is anything more advanced, I’d suspect it is from the aliens. They were already starfaring when discovered. I’d never have seen this sneaky fellow without the drone service. Turns out he has a special group card and gets his car service through the university at a special group rate,” Sam said.
“Does he connect to the Foys or our own State Department people?” Bill asked.
“That’s what I am looking for right now. No, and no, but here’s something that sets off all my alarm bells,” Sam said. “They’ve made a number of trips to the same storage facility.”
“The same one you rented a room planning to get in and snoop?” Bill asked.
“Yes, they all rent and go there, but not at the same time,” Sam said.
“So they aren’t all meeting and swapping stuff in secret? Unless, they share cards and keys, and have access to each other’s units and stuff,” Bill said thoughtfully.
Sam looked at Bill shocked. That was way beyond any conspiracy fantasies he could have imagined if invited to try.
“I know I’m paranoid,” Bill said with a dismissive wave at Sam’s expression. “I don’t know why they would do that, but I’ve seen stranger things revealed and most of the time it didn’t make any more sense after than before.”
“Here’s another one the AI is feeding me,” Sam said. “These two have almost no activity visible, which is hard to do on Derfhome, but the aliens rented the storage and charged it off to Lee Anderson’s bank account. That makes me look back and there is a bizarre charge on a public shipping contract to deliver something to the Physicist’s University offices. It doesn’t say what it was in any detail, just machinery and the shipping mass, but she paid twenty-seven million dollars Ceres to have this something delivered from Fargone.”
“Amateurs,” Bill declared with contempt. “They really are trying to keep a low profile, but they forget or decide something like the storage rental isn’t important or don’t understand how something like the freight fees are paid and documented. Even seasoned government operators can mess up and do the same. If you have a single item revealed for twenty-seven million you better figure it’s the tip of an iceberg. What is the lag on your surveillance of the car service? How long after the ride is it done and billed?”
“It will report to me almost real-time,” Sam said. “Once the requested ride arrives and the car door closes a destination is provided. It shows all the details of how it is in use on their tracking.”
“Can they stop in the middle of a trip and demand to be let out or switch their destination?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know. Now that you asked, I’m going to have to try that to see how the system responds, but I’ve never seen anybody do those things. I think, since they don’t suspect anybody is tracking them, they’d never think to try.”
Bill struck a ‘Thinker’ pose unaware he was doing so, and his eyes narrowed.
“I’d have the system alert you, and forward it to your phone if need be, any time a new person visits any of your targeted people. I know you are going to see a lot of things like package delivery and food delivery the car services do, but you can tell the program to delete those in the future and you’ll quickly reduce the load of alarms. However, you might pick up some important peripheral characters we need to know about,” Bill said. “Also have it page you anytime two or more of your primary targets are in motion.”
If there was pizza delivery Sam didn’t know about it, but he’d have to look now.
“This is growing to take a bigger chunk of my time than I expected,” Sam said. “It will cut into my volume of reports on mundane commercial traffic and the news that seeps out of the Keeps.”
“It smells important to me. Just add the stuff on the clans and Keeps and Mothers to your reports without reading more than the first and last sentence,” Bill said. “That’ll keep your volume up and look like you aren’t in semi-retirement. I’m sure nobody back on Earth reads every last word of that crap anyhow. They will scan it all for keywords and look at those. If they trusted us we could filter it all for them here, but that would cut down on the number of cannon polishers they have to hire.”
“Cannon polishers?” Sam asked.
“A literary reference,” Bill said, “search brass cannon and Heinlein.”
* * *
“This is Jeff Singh,” the Foy’s com suddenly announced aloud, since he triggered their highest priority, not a polite flashing light that said they had a message waiting in storage. “I’m going to dock at Derfhome station shortly and take the next convenient commercial shuttle down to the City. That’s easier to do than explain how such a small ship can be an interstellar voyager and not just a landing shuttle. I have some policy changes I’d like to brief you on and then I’m going to request an audience with Lee Anderson. I’m hoping she hasn’t zipped off to Fargone or Providence again.
“Would you please get me reservations for a suite of rooms somewhere? I don’t know how long I intend to stay, but better make sure they are available for a couple of weeks. I imagine you’ve been here long enough to know which places have better reputations. I’d like something that has room in the suite to have a comfortable meeting of a half dozen people including physically larger Derf. I’ll need a car and driver. I haven’t read enough about the world to know if an air car is a necessity. I’ll leave that sort of thing to you to determine. Oh, and a hotel or apartments with a good kitchen or nearby decent place to eat. I’d rather not have to hire staff or live in help for such a short term stay if it can be avoided. I know you are not in your embassy building yet and I very specifically do not wish to impose on your domestic arrangements.
“I’m looking forward to chatting with you and getting briefed on how things work locally. I have a few personal items for your comfort I’ll send down. Thank you.”
“This is all very sudden,” Eileen said.
“Probably for him too,” Vic said, unruffled. “It amuses me he calls a meeting with Lee an audience.”
Eileen didn’t say anything. Being richer than some small nations and commanding ships and people meant more than putting on titles and airs.
“Should I reply?” Eileen wondered. She was a peer but still a little in awe of Jeff.
“I think he’d be more impressed if you just get everything ready as requested and don’t have to ask questions or tell him anything is unavailable. He clearly trusts you to use your judgment on things like an air car.”
“He could use the car services just like us,” Eileen said.
“But he specifically asked for a car and driver. He may have his reasons not to want to wait for a car but have it at hand ready to serve him. It’s not like that isn’t something readily available,” Vic pointed out. “It just costs a little bit more.”
“And he assumes we know the local hotels,” Eileen worried. “Once we determined we needed better security I stopped thinking about local hotels or researching them, and we only have hours to do so.”
“No need,” Vic said. “Lee is rich on a scale similar to Jeff Singh. I assume if there was anywhere nicer to live than the Old Hotel she’d be there. I’d call and see what they have in the way of suites. Get as close to what she has as possible, and see it stocked for a Human. Then, if he wants to talk with Lee they’ll already be in the same building.”
Vic suddenly remembered something. “Make sure the shower and toilet are Human compatible like Lee described to us.”
Eileen nodded. “One good thing, if nothing equal is available I haven’t seen either of them worry about silly competitive showmanship.”
“No,” Vic agreed, “if they did want to engage in that sort of shallow boasting it would more likely be about how many starships each could command.”
Vic was already looking at The Old Hotel’s reservations page and smiled.
“Two of the four top floor suites are open, one on a daily basis and one as a lease. I’m reserving the lease unit for a month and charging it to our local accounts.”
“We have enough?” Eileen joked.
“Yes, but it is pretty pricey, and you don’t save all that much with a longer lease.”
“If it became oppressive Lee would probably just buy the hotel,” Eileen decided. “Let’s go by and actually look at the suite. I’d feel better to do a walk through and then to the port and bring Jeff back.”
“But not in an automated car,” Vic said. “Call Garrett and ask him who we should call for a car and driver. Tell him we have a VIP at the station, and he will land soon. We don’t have time for somebody to fly in from Red Tree.”
“You want to reveal Jeff Singh is here?” Eileen seemed dubious. “If we tell Garrett then Lee and the Mothers are going to know too.”
“He said he wants to meet with Lee. I got the impression that will happen pretty quickly. I’m certain if it was a secret that he is here Jeff would have told you very specifically to keep it quiet. We depend on Red Tree for our security, if Jeff needs to be protected we’d be silly to look for a different source. Indeed, keeping such a secret from a close ally would be out of character and could lead to all sorts of unpleasant speculations why.”
Eileen nodded, “You’ve convinced me. I’ll call right now, but he may not be able to get us a driver until tomorrow.”
After a very brief conversation, Eileen terminated it and looked at Vic with the oddest look on her face. “Garrett said he has a combo car that can operate either on auto or manual on its way here, and a Red Tree driver in a clan utility vehicle will meet it here and be at our service in fifteen minutes.”
“Now do you believe we have a special relationship with Red Tree?” Vic asked.
“Very much so, he never even asked who was going to pay for all this,” Eileen said, “and he informed me without asking, that the driver is qualified as a bodyguard too.”
* * *
“I’m sure the two lawyers are spies,” Kirk said, “and maybe not the only ones.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Pamela said. “What else could they be, and what other function could they serve running a money losing business? The Derf are too easy going. In any Earth nation, they’d see that they basically have no visible means of support and roll their operation right up. Here, there is no audit, no tax returns, and no alarms from their bank. They can get away with murder.”
“One hopes that isn’t on the agenda,” Kirk said. “I’m still not sure for which letter agency they’re working. I hesitate to report anything that just sounds like a suspicion.”
“Something new must have happened to bring this up. You said you were watching them closely. Did they do something recently to get you excited?” Pamela asked.
“I tried to hire a new private investigator to follow them when they go out and about in town. I’m already using another agency to keep an eye on the Foys. I didn’t want to put one agency to work on two targets. You get cross talk and shared surveillance and an agent can make one target aware they are being watched by observing the other being watched,” Kirk explained.
“OK, I can see how that would happen. Too many coincidences and the same character lurking about too often,” Pamela agreed. “But I do bet that they all know each other in a market this small and will make other company’s surveillance.”
“Well I asked another agency to watch the lawyers,” Kirk said. “He looked super amused and then declined the work. When I pressed him about why, he said it would be unethical and a conflict of interest. He positively smirked.”
“Oh my goodness, he’s already being paid to watch us for them,” Pamela said.
“If only it were that easy,” Kirk said. “He could be watching them already for somebody else, or he could be watching somebody else for them. The only constant is the lawyers, but we can’t assume any other party,” Kirk said.
“Hire a third agency to spy on the agency you just tried to hire,” Pamela said. “Ask the new one to determine, if possible who the fellows who declined to be hired are keeping under surveillance. It would be tough to know who hired them, but it should be physically obvious who they are watching. It will eliminate one party, even if it does turn out to be us.”
She thought about it for a minute.
“You could have hired watchers to keep your other investigators honest, another firm to confirm they are watching who we hired them to,” Pamela decided.
“That’s an excellent idea. I’m not sure there are that many agencies, or even single PIs, for hire in a town this small,” Kirk said, “but your thinking is sound. I’m starting to wonder if you aren’t better suited to this than me,” Kirk said. “Your advice is so good, I swear I’d ask you to switch jobs, except I don’t want anything to do with the damn bees.”
“There you go trying to sweet talk me again,” Pamela said. “It’s working, you know.”
* * *
“My network tells me there is a sudden collapse of normal supply,” April told Heather. “Not luxuries, or things with potential military use, but things like sterile surgical supplies, household items, and my tailors even inform me they have cloth and things like zippers and fasteners on order held up. The volume is down to the extent that several people in UPS and other shippers have commented on the suddenly reduced volume to me. Do you think we should send a message to Jeff?”
“Do you think he could tell us anything from afar we can’t figure out ourselves?”
“Probably not, since it’s not a technical question,” April admitted.
“Then why bother the dear when he has enough on his plate there?” Heather asked. “What I do want to do is put all my jump captains on alert for sudden recall, especially those Jeff used to drag rocks to make our Martian satellite. I’m also going to pull most of my workers off the surface, and issue a warning to all the landowners in Central to get their valuables and workers as deep as possible and keep them there.”
“You think it’s that serious?” April asked.
“Yes,” Heather said, “and I’ll be busy doing that, so I’d appreciate it if you inquired of both your network and Chen if there is a change in passenger traffic, not only for us but for The Turnip and Peace Station. I think you should suggest to Home Security now is a good time to scan the reducing freight flow with extra care. I wouldn’t put above them to try to sneak in a biological attack or a nuclear device.”
April nodded, seeing where this was going. “I’ll ask Chen to see if any Earth launch facilities or military bases have unusual closures or crews sequestered.”
“Thank you. I think you should disperse our critical vessels and crews to other fields or off the Moon rather than have them in our deep hangers. If we’re bombarded, they could be trapped there a long time until they could dig their way out.
“It might be a kindness to inform our friends such as Larkin that it’s a bad time to have vessels docked on Earth stations or stuck in long transits,” Heather said.
April didn’t ask if it was really that bad again. She pretty much agreed.
* * *
The Derf was standing outside patiently waiting when the Foys went out.
“You could have come in to wait,” Eileen said.
“Thank you, no need. I’ve been here less than a minute, and our car is about two minutes out. I’d have had to turn around almost from your door. I’m Nuclear Specialist Strangelove, Ma’am. I soldier for Red Tree full time. I happened to be taking some supplies to the fellow watching your embassy grounds today, so I was close. My Champion informed me you need me. I’ll be happy to drive you or your very important person as long as you have need of me.”
“My goodness, I feel I’m imposing,” Eileen said. “You were busy with something else and got called away.”
“Strangelove, I told Garrett we had a VIP coming in, I’m curious if that’s what he told you?”
“No, Mr. Foy, I wouldn’t have known that acronym if he hadn’t already told me the long form. Derf don’t use acronyms in their own language and are a little uncomfortable with them. Garrett’s English is a little better than mine, so he expanded it for me. I assume if he is important to you, he is important to the defense of our system, and thus important to the Mothers.”
“Call me Vic. It’s difficult to explain why, but even though we do very much value Jeff Singh it would be better not to refer to him as a very important person in his presence. It was perhaps an error on my part to use that expression. The term is old and abused to some degree and it may embarrass him to hear it applied to him. I have to agree that even though I’ve used the expression I’d be embarrassed to hear it applied to me. If accepted as one’s due it smells of being full of self-importance.”
“If one may be permitted to make a generalization,” Strangelove said, “English is difficult and full of conflicts and contradictions. I sometimes think it reflects the underlying culture. I’m tempted to try to learn Japanese or something to see if it shows similar qualities.”
Vic looked amused. “Will I see any similar cultural assumptions shine through Derf as I learn to speak it?”
“Of course not,” Strangelove said. He tilted his head back and opened his eyes wider. Either it was natural, or he’d observed human mannerisms very closely. “Derf speech is wholly rational. Our usage is totally divorced from the influence of thousands of years of domination by the clan system of government and trial by combat. If you don’t believe me just ask any clan Mother.”
“I’ll keep that in mind to bring up some time if the conversation seems to be lagging and needs invigorating,” Vic promised, “and I’ll try to remember to credit you as its source,” he threatened.
“Here comes the car,” Eileen said, “just as things degenerate to ugly threats. We’re really too tight on time to go inspect his suite,” Eileen complained.
Strangelove smiled broadly, which was a compliment in itself. A lot of Derf avoided a toothsome display to avoid discomforting Humans who themselves smiled freely.
“I’m sure we’ll have lots of opportunities to have stimulating conversations if I get to drive you for very long,” Strangelove said. “I’m positively looking forward to it. May I suggest we pick up your VIP and accompany him to inspect the rooms?”
“I don’t think we have any choice now,” Eileen decided.
Strangelove held the door open for Eileen, but Vic shook his head no. “I’m going to ride in the front with you. I wish to observe your driving technique.”
“I’ve never crashed,” Strangelove said. “I think you’ll be satisfied I’m competent."
“Good, because I don’t want to critique you, I hope to learn how to drive myself.”
“You never drove while living on Human worlds?” Strangelove asked surprised.
“Oh no, let me tell you all about Los Angeles traffic some time,” Vic said.
It was interesting, Vic thought, Strangelove held the door for Eileen, but he walked around the car and let Vic get his own door.
“I’m curious,” Vic said, as they rolled away, “is your customary name picked from some historical figure or famous Human, like most Derf do?”
“I’m a nuclear weapons tech for Red Tree,” Strangelove said. “Obviously that doesn’t keep me busy every day. I mostly train field users, so I have a lot of free time to be assigned to other tasks like your embassy security or driving you. I like the variety of duties, it keeps you from getting bored with the same old thing. The name is a bit of a stretch, but it’s from a really old flat movie that deals with Human attitudes about nuclear weapons. I found it rather amusing.”
There was muttering from the rear seat.
“What did you say, Dear?” Vic asked.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Eileen claimed, but Derf have terrific hearing.
* * *
“Oh my goodness, look at this passenger list for the shuttle that just landed from Derfhome station,” Sam told Bill and sent it to his screen.
“Jeff Singh? It might be another Jeffery Singh. There are millions of Singhs. There have to be more than a few Jeffs,” Bill guessed.
“Who arrive on a ship claiming Central as home-port?” Sam asked.
“No kidding? He must be the one on the short watch list,” Bill said. “Have you searched the other names on the shuttle to identify his security? I’m surprised he took a public shuttle. He could afford a private drop. Crap… he could buy a shuttle if he needed one. He’s a very big deal on Home and Central.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s traveling alone, Sam insisted. “All the other names have prior Derfhome addresses and non-security business activity. Isn’t he the one who bombarded California awhile back? Is that why he’s on the watch list?”
“That’s a touchy subject, depending on who you are talking to,” Bill said, and unconsciously lowered his voice like somebody might be listening. That caught Sam’s ear and he looked up expectantly.
“The public news programs blamed him,” Bill said, “but I had access to the real after action reports back then. He was actually much too busy getting shot at and evading it well out to the west over the Pacific to be bombarding anyone. His girlfriend April Lewis called up Earth traffic control and told them to inform Vandenberg if they didn’t knock off shooting at him she’d stop them.”
“A civilian threatened them? I bet that went over just great,” Sam said.
“Yeah, she was about eighteen, and looked more like thirteen or fourteen because she was on life-extension therapy already. The officer in charge told Traffic Control not to put through every crank call from a child with a pocket phone.”
“Was she one of them who went off their nut from the treatments?” Sam asked.
Bill looked irritated. “You should know better than to believe crap made up for public consumption.”
“I didn’t get read into everything you have,” Sam said. “I don’t know what is true or not if I haven’t worked an incident. That was before my time too.”
“That mental instability only happened to a small group in Germany in the very early period they were developing life-extension. It wasn’t even directly related to making them live longer, it was one of those side tweaks they bundle with it. They wanted to create prodigies. It worked too. Going nuts was an unfortunate side effect.
“The idiots at Vandenberg shot at him again, and for a crazy lady, she orchestrated a very effective suppression of their defenses. The after action report was interesting. She tore up all the defenses with a couple of hundred kinetic weapons coming in from both east and west and once she had the surviving defenses identified starting hitting those with kiloton range weapons.
“Vandenberg was the main missile defense facility on the west coast then, so it was a tough nut to crack. It took a second round of small weapons to neutralize its defenses. After that, she blinded their radars with a huge cloud of ionized metal vapor and put a big weapon through to finish them off. It left most of the county about a half meter lower than before and was felt from Seattle to the end of the Baja.”
“Weapons that big aren’t efficient,” Sam objected.
“Well, you can give them pointers,” Bill said. “I assumed she was making a statement, because the base was pretty much gone by that time. Nothing says we care enough to send the very best like a two or three hundred megaton slap. That’s what totally screwed up the infrastructure all over Southern California and destabilized the western USNA enough for Texas to expand.
“Read the folder on the Foys if you haven’t. You might keep in mind the Foys are from the autonomous areas in Northern California. They’re a product of that whole sequence of events. Eileen walked from near LA to join her family up north. Any young girl who could walk through most of that devastated lawless land is pretty tough.”
“Are you authorized to tell me all this?” Sam asked, uncomfortable.
“We may be the same grade, but I have seniority,” Bill said. “If I decide you have a need to know because of changing circumstances I’m going to read you in to protect our mission. If they don’t like it what are they going to do to me? I’m already stuck in a low-risk general intelligence gathering post just killing time until I can retire.”
“I appreciate we work pretty much as equals,” Sam said. “You could make this a real hardship post if you were a jerk and the only other person I work with.”
“I love you too,” Bill said. Sam could only imagine the heads that would explode back at headquarters if they had a bug to intercept that.
“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression that Singh isn’t dangerous too,” Bill said. “The Chinese have messed with him a couple of times and got nuked for it. They stole one of his ships once and he nuked it as soon as they landed it. You can still see the crater a few kilometers across where the spaceport used to be.”
“I never heard about that,” Sam said. Bill looked at him sharply to see if he was disbelieving, but it just seemed a factual statement.
“You won’t find it searching the public web, and the Chinese have no reason to publish it. But you can find it in some foreign satellite pix if you know where to search for it,” Bill said.
Sam nodded and sat, brow furrowed hard.
“Maybe this Singh character doesn’t know he’s supposed to be afraid and travel with security,” Sam concluded.
“It might be better not to provoke him,” Bill agreed. “From what I have read if you do. his girlfriends tend to hunt you down and kill you artistically as an example.”
“Girl friends?” Sam asked, because North America was in a resurgence of public prudery that showed no sign of letting up.
“Like he cares what we think about that too,” Bill said.
“I’m going to check and see if the Foys or anybody else we are watching just happen to be going to the port right now,” Sam said. “I wonder what his business is here?”
Chapter 16
Jeff stepped off the shuttle to a passenger tunnel. He was kind of disappointed that Derfhome was so modern. It was like getting off a shuttle on Earth, although he hadn’t been able to do that safely in a couple of decades. The port wasn’t huge and didn’t try to impress, but it was comfortable and spacious, even given the fact Derf were extra-large compared to Humans. It didn’t smell bad, but it wasn’t the outdoor air of a living planet he’d hoped to experience.
It had the faint scent of machinery or electronics and an odor that reminded him of a pet ferret. He suspected that was Derf. Trying to hide those odors was a faint whiff of burnt popcorn. Being a station dweller since his teens Jeff had a very keen sense of smell, accustomed to air scrubbed clean and carefully monitored for unexplained pollutants. He never rode behind a diesel truck or was stuck in an elevator with old ladies drenched in perfume to dull his sense of smell.
He was wearing thin stretchy pants, slip on shoes, a long sleeved t-shirt, and a long jacket or tunic over it all, that was a concession to Heather and April to armor up. The bottom edge could be grabbed and pulled down to his knees without losing its ballistic properties, but it was just below his buttocks at present for appearance sake. The hood was not up or his face covered, but he had on a soft looking beanie that was deceptively thin and incorporated a reactive layer. It came down over his ears and covered the temple pieces of his spex.
A thin over-vest had no fasteners or zipper in the front and was simply a carrier that substituted for the pockets the long jacket lacked and blocked him from reaching in his pants. It held his pad, some walking around money, and a pair of drones he didn’t want to deploy to orbit him unless he found himself in visibly hostile circumstances. It would probably be mistaken as some ethnic garb on an outsider. It had a vaguely Middle Eastern look to it and had embroidery along the edge to reinforce that appearance. Everything else, his documents, several changes of the light clothing, a more capable computer and a serious pistol on top of the other items all fit in a small handle bag. The armored tunic was able to cool or warm him over any range of temperatures he should encounter.
There was no customs to deal with on the planet since he’d easily cleared customs on the station. Jeff hadn’t even been asked to empty his bag. The port was busy but not packed, most of the traffic here was from local aircraft rather than shuttles. There were Derf everywhere and a majority of the workers were Derf, but more Humans than he had honestly expected. The exit gate out was an unmanned turnstile that couldn’t be entered the other way and Jeff could see the Foys standing back against a wall on the other side of it.
“We have a car and driver orbiting around the port,” Eileen said as soon as Jeff walked up to them. “He’ll stop as soon as he sees we’re out front. He’s supplied by the Red Tree Mothers and on call for you to use as long as you are here. Be advised he regards himself as a bodyguard also. Is that all you have?” Eileen asked, nodding at his single bag.
“Yes, and I’d rather carry it myself,” Jeff said. He didn’t care to explain his pistol was accessible on top inside, bodyguard or no. He really had to talk to the makers about pockets on the armor. How hard could it be?
“We have a hotel suite reserved, Eileen said. “It’s on the same top floor of the Old Hotel in which Lee Anderson keeps an apartment. That should make having a meeting with her easy and private. Nobody can track either of you coming or going.”
“Is there room for my driver to stay in the suite if he’s a bodyguard too?”
“We met him just in time to get here and pick you up,” Vic said. “The suite has room, though we didn’t have time to inspect it. There hasn’t been time to discuss any details of what you require or schedules. I’m pretty sure he has a very loose set of orders to accommodate you, so tell him what you require.”
There was no security to clear outside the turnstile blocking entry to the actual shuttle terminal, and people were visible entering the same doors they exited. There were driverless cars for hire along the curb with distinctive company colors, and ‘FOR HIRE’ in several languages painted on the side. There were only three and Jeff didn’t see any big rush to them.
A plain car came along and Eileen called out, “There he is now.”
It pulled to the curb between cabs. A large male Derf got out and came around to open the doors for them.
It wasn’t lost on Jeff that his eyes scanned the pickup area each way carefully before he nodded hello to them. He stood upper arm on the front door letting them choose their own seats.
“Mr. Singh? I’m Specialist Strangelove at your service.”
The Foys didn’t expect Jeff to erupt in laughter. Strangelove smiled rather than take offense. “You’ve seen the flattie then?” He inquired.
“I’ve seen the old one and the colorized version upscaled to higher resolution,” Jeff said. “It’s a cult classic.”
“I’m not sure what that last means,” Strangelove said, “but it will give us an interesting thing in common to discuss. I still have some questions about the movie other Humans have been unable to answer.”
“I’d be happy to talk with you about that, and I have questions about Derfhome I’d like to put to you. Let me sit in the front with you and we can talk a little right away. The Foys say they haven’t made detailed arrangements. Would you be agreeable to sharing my suite at the Old Hotel so you don’t have to commute back and forth to drive me?”
“That would be a treat for me,” Strangelove said. “The Old Hotel is probably the fanciest place in town and I’ve never set foot in the place. I’ve never had an excuse to even charge a meal there to my Mothers, much less stay there.”
He shut the door on Jeff and then the back door for the Foys.
“Where do you stay then?” Jeff asked when Strangelove took the driver’s seat again. “I understand Red Tree is fairly distant for the City. Do you have enough business here for a barracks or apartments in town?”
“There are other hotels and rooming houses far less grand than the Old Hotel or the Holiday Inn that caters mostly to Humans,” Strangelove said, easing out into traffic. “The Mothers have arrangements with some of them for contract workers the clan sends to work on fishing boats or forestry work on unclaimed land. But I have been staying in our safe house since my work recently required my presence there and there was no need to move out.”
“I’m not sure we don’t have some confusion in translation there,” Jeff said. “What do Derf consider a ‘safe house’ by definition?”
“A place owned rather than rented where we can maintain much tighter security for agents of the clan to come and go or keep sensitive political prisoners under arrest.”
“That’s pretty much my definition too. I can see we’re going to have a lot of interesting things to discuss. Are you an agent in the sense of a criminal investigator or a spy for the Mothers? Humans wouldn’t normally reveal that,” Jeff said.
“I am a military officer of the clan in the third rank,” Strangelove said. “I report directly to the Champion of Red Tree, who reports to the Mothers. We aren’t big on specialization so I do whatever needs to be done. We cross train extensively so I can lead a platoon of infantry by your definitions, or work air defense or indeed gather intelligence if that is required.
“My specialty is maintaining and deploying nuclear weapons for surface warfare. I’m sorry to say I haven’t had a chance to rotate through the training and deployment to learn the details of my specialty in space forces. But neither have the space trained specialists had a round of training at surface warfare. We’ll get around to it, but the whole field is relatively new compared to other tasks that have histories and procedures formed over thousands of years. We still train the basics of traditional weapons. I’ll have you know I was regarded as very skilled with a pike.”
“Or that ax stuck in your belt?” Jeff asked.
“That is regarded as a current service weapon,” Strangelove said, patting it. “You notice the bottom of the blade has a hook. The head is forged of a material that compares favorably in strength to turbine blades. Since an adult Derf can pull against a set object with about five tons of force, the leverage is sufficient to peel open the best hard space armor. One of your people described it as like opening a can of sardines. I’ve never had the experience of star goods as exotic as canned sardines, so I wouldn’t know.”
“We’ll try to keep it that way,” Jeff said. “Be aware, I am armed, so you can factor that in as support since I was told you are bodyguard too.”
“The Mothers value you, and the Foys. I am pleased to serve any ally of Red Tree. Derfhome doesn’t have a lot of crime, less so violent crime. If we have any difficulties I would expect it to be from without. So you might pay closer attention to other Humans than Derf. The Derf generally would be in terror of crossing the Mothers who have made certain Humans a concern of theirs under formal protection.”
Strangelove looked over briefly and smiled. “But we have crazies too.”
“Off subject a little, but don’t you have a straight road anywhere?” Jeff asked.
That provoked laughter from the back seat.
* * *
“I can’t believe nobody met Singh at the port,” Sam said.
“Neither can I,” Bill said. “He could have hired a car or bought one for that matter, but he has people on-planet and allies. Somebody met him. If it wasn’t the Foys it was Lee Anderson or somebody from Red Tree. I find it very hard to believe he has some other contact or business on Derfhome and never told his people he’d be here.”
“Unless there’s a problem, and he’s here to take names and kick butt, so he didn’t want to give them time to cover up any evidence,” Sam said.
Bill smiled. “You’re getting better at this. That’s good thinking, but you want to eliminate the more likely things first. Check all the cars that visited the Foys today, not just the service they usually use, and backtrack them all. Check where they went after stopping at the Foy’s, and if that yields nothing, then check every car that stopped at the Old Hotel and where they were from or where they went.”
“That’s going to be a lot harder than the Foy’s place, even using the AI to just give me results instead of doing it manually,” Sam objected.
“That’s the boring downside of intelligence work,” Bill said, “but it works.”
“Oh, incidentally, one of our hired teams reports somebody else is ghosting them and tracking who they watch,” Sam said. “They’re not sure who, but it would more than double their workload to find out, so they weren’t willing to investigate. Even if they got paid well for it, they are simply out of available warm bodies.”
“That really frosts me,” Bill said. “Somebody got the better company to my mind, and I can’t even ID them to try to subvert them and hire them away.”
* * *
The elevators for the top floor were all in a small alcove off the lobby but in sight of the service desk. They set the call plate and the door entry above to Jeff’s hand and Strangelove’s. Jeff had the Foys touch the panel and get access too, which they hadn’t expected. Is this a pre-contact building?” Jeff asked inside, looking around the suite.
“Yes, we had to ask them to change out the master toilet and the shower fixtures for some compatible with Humans,” Eileen said. “I hope they didn’t go overboard and change them all since you invited Strangelove to stay. If they have we can get him a room in the hotel until they have one switched back tomorrow.”
“Why would a shower head be species-specific?” Jeff wondered.
“Think high-pressure washer like for cleaning pavement or a ground car. The Derf version has to penetrate their tight coat. It will peel skin or at least bruise it,” Vic said.
Strangelove came back from inspecting a smaller bedroom. “Not to worry, they left that guest room set up for Derf. It still has a pad instead of a bed too.”
“Let’s look at the balcony,” Jeff said, and led the way.
“Ah, you have a lovely view,” Strangelove said, leaning on a very stout railing with his lower arms. The rail was chest high to Jeff.
Jeff nodded agreeing. “When did they put in electric lighting?” Jeff wondered.
“That predates Human contact by a couple of hundred years,” Eileen said. “They used to have their own generator though, before there were city mains. The fixtures are all updated with Human tech though, except for the restaurant on the first floor. The patrons said it would ruin it to put in modern fixtures and it retains the original lights.”
“If you read the Earth literature you’d think they were all living in mud and bark huts and the great gods from the sky brought them fire,” Jeff said.
“Well, consider what they say about Spacers,” Vic said, and as was his custom let Jeff fill in all the details and draw his own conclusions.
“There is a rift there?” Strangelove asked, “beyond turning Lee away from their Claims Commission?”
Jeff looked shocked, and didn’t know where to start to answer Strangelove, or ask how it was he didn’t know.
Eileen jumped in. “Jeff, it’s going to take a lot to explain how clan Derf live and what they know about the outside world. The Mothers are in charge of all law and foreign relations. There are no video screens and very few pads to be found at a clan Keep. The average clan Derf isn’t exposed to news programs, and they aren’t encouraged to form private opinions of external affairs. They simply do as the Mothers direct. Their education is very targeted and doesn’t include general classes of history, neither their own nor foreigners and aliens.”
Strangelove spoke up for himself. “There is a channel on the city net about news from Earth and Fargone, and they touch on news from other worlds like New Japan from time to time. Frankly, it was a bunch of nonsense to me. I didn’t even know half the words although I’m one of the better English speakers. I’ve been learning from our doctor who is a native speaker.
“I remember there was this show about tariffs between Europe and China, and I had to learn what tariffs were. They seemed to feel it was a serious matter. The Europeans were unhappy with the price of pigs from China. I was trying to figure out why, if they didn’t like the price of the pigs, the European leaders didn’t just say, ‘That’s it we aren’t buying any more.’ Then I finally figured out they were unhappy the price was too low! This is a problem? So I pretty much gave up looking at that channel since it didn’t make any sense at all.”
Jeff was nodding and looking abstracted. “I can really understand why it wouldn’t make any sense if you don’t have tons of background about how Earth economies and politics work. Even then, sometimes it doesn’t make any sense to us, because it’s foolishness and something is done a certain way because that how it has always been done and nobody will fix a hundred-year-old law that was made for entirely different reasons. I just hope you will be patient with me when your world and way of doing things doesn’t make any more sense to me.”
“Such as not having any straight roads?” Strangelove asked.
“I admit, that seems peculiar to me,” Jeff said. “I suppose it is to be found in history once again. Once I understand how it started it will make better sense how it came to be like it is.”
“You’d understand that one if you ever saw a Derf hunting party that goes out in the fall, Strangelove said. “By the time Derf invented firearms they had hunted all the big dangerous predators to extinction. I know that horrifies a lot of Humans when they learn that, but they never had to meet one of these horrors in the woods. That was done with spear and bow, and even in war, Derf are so good with a bow that expensive firearms never became a big thing. A Derf draws a bow with his lower arms that has eight to ten times the pull of a human bow and throws an arrow three times as heavy.
“If you saw a bowman practicing you’d find that the average distance around a city dwelling to the public through way is about how far such a bowman can hit a target the size of my palm,” Strangelove said, lifting a true hand.
Jeff looked at his palm, then out across the city at the buildings in lengthening shadows. “Maybe eight centimeters at a hundred meters?” he guessed.
“About, call it three out of five shafts at a hundred and twenty,” Strangelove said.
“My jacket is soft armor,” Jeff said. “I wonder if it would stop such an arrow?”
“It may stop it but blunt force trauma is still a problem,” Strangelove said.
“Less so than you might think,” Jeff said. “It’s made of a very advanced materials and has layers that distribute the force over a much larger area than before.”
“Then let me know if there is anything the Mothers can offer in trade to buy the secret of such a thing,” Strangelove said.
“At this time it is a rarity among Humans, but I promise I will find out what it would take to produce it for Derf,” Jeff said. “I don’t believe the Foys have such garments yet, and I should speak to my Sovereign about that.”
“That’s interesting,” Strangelove said, “we are both under females. I understand that isn’t always the case with Humans. I saw that learning English.”
“Yes, there are both Kings and Queens. But if you don’t mind I’d like to go back in and shower. If you are staying with me would you accompany me to dinner? If, as Eileen mentioned there is a restaurant in the hotel that serves at this hour, that would do fine. Do you want to accompany us?” Jeff asked the Foys.
“No thank you,” Eileen declined. “We’ll let you get adjusted to the local time and interrogate your native guide. You call us when you need us to do something and we’ll attend to our usual business until then. You can get served in your rooms too if you’d rather,” she added.
“Maybe later, I wouldn’t learn anything that way,” Jeff said.
“We’ll let ourselves out. No need to run your vehicle to take us home,” Eileen told Strangelove. “The car company we use is nearby and a one way is cheaper since they will find a paying fare on our end of town.”
Strangelove just nodded agreement.
Jeff had planned to brief the Foys on what he intended to offer Lee, but the presence of Strangelove made him hesitate to do that. If they were curious they could have asked at the airport. He didn’t want Lee told his intent ahead with time to think of demands and objections. It wouldn’t be that long anyway, tomorrow hopefully.
* * *
“Well crap! They slipped past me,” Sam said. “The Foys are leaving the Old Hotel, but I didn’t see them take their car service there.”
“Maybe they got a stinky car or something and switched services,” Bill said.
Bill didn’t appear to be doing anything, and Sam thought about asking him why he didn’t lend a hand, but decided against it and just started searching himself.
* * *
Jeff didn’t call ahead, he just walked down to the restaurant with Strangelove and presented himself at the door. He was surprised when the Maître d’ knew him by name and walked them across the room to a table set for one Human and one Derf. The dining room was fairly busy near sundown, Derf outnumbering Humans.
“I wonder if Eileen warned them we were coming? They seemed to have a table waiting for us,” Jeff asked Strangelove.
“I doubt it. I’d expect they grabbed a photo of your face or a short video of you as soon as you checked in and distributed it to every worker. The restaurant probably has your photo, and that of everyone else renting a suite displayed behind the reservation desk where you couldn’t see. I’d imagine all the security people have a guest image on their pad too.”
“I didn’t see any security people.”
“Good, that means they are doing their job really well,” Strangelove said.
The room had a golden glow that matched the late day sun he’d just seen outside. The antique lighting fixtures held clusters of glass globes with glowing filaments inside. The lighting was shifted to the yellow so hard Jeff suspected the table cloth was white, but it looked a pale gold. Similarly, the utensils looked like gold instead of white metal. He picked the fork up and tried to judge if it was stainless or sterling and couldn’t tell. There were no hallmarks on the back to help him.
“These are nice to create a period atmosphere,” Jeff said, of the bulbs, “but I wonder if they still make replacements for when these burn out?”
Strangelove looked amused. Jeff was able to see that already. The corner of his mouth curled a little just like a Human, but his eyes got bigger instead of squinting.
“That might be a concern, but some of the bulbs that were put in use the first few decades electric lighting became available are still in use. They tend to last until they meet a hard floor or similar fate, and shatter rather than burn out. People still use them claiming the light is more relaxing and conducive to romance. People who like clutter display them with rocks and seashells and other pretty things on a shelf, so they don’t get thrown away. By the time there is any shortage of them I’d bet some enterprising business person starts making them again.”
“Curios, which is obviously from curiosities,” Jeff said, “or knick-knacks, that’s what you call such little display items in English. I have no idea where that comes from. Spacers tend to put everything away, but I remember one aunt in India… You couldn’t set a drink down, because every flat surface had something displayed on it. What is the filament made of anyway, that it lasts so long?”
“Some of the earliest ones are cuts of a particular reed, carbonized,” Strangelove said. “They tend to even deeper color. “Most of them now are a different thinner reed. They would make a soup of a special sort of clay with a resin added, blow that through the reed to cover the inside with a ceramic, and carbonize it.”
“I suppose it isn’t any different than some Humans finding dinner by candlelight as a special treat,” Jeff decided. “But at least I can read the menu just fine. What is Devil’s Horn Soup and why has somebody penciled in a biohazard symbol by it?”
“They aren’t true peppers, but little black fruit of so similar a shape the name was transposed. About so big,” Strangelove showed with his fingers. “They are theoretically edible by Humans, but a few Humans end up in the local emergency room every year from getting intoxicated and deciding they can snack on them raw.” He did an elaborate shrug. “But we used to get a few every year who decided after a few drinks to go cab surfing. They’d hire a driverless car and send it off after the drunk climbed on top. The challenge was to stay on your feet to the destination. Now all the cars have extra sensors on the roof and won’t move with a rider.”
Jeff did a facepalm. “What you must think of my species, I can’t imagine.”
“It’s been… entertaining.”
The waiter showed up with a pad in hand to send the order directly to the kitchen. Jeff stuck to things he knew. The exotic items were interesting to read about but he was here on business and didn’t need that complicated by a new found allergy or gastric distress. Strangelove seemed to be having difficulty choosing.
“It’s my treat,” Jeff said to be clear. “It’s not an issue with me and I don’t care if you order expensive items that would be a treat for you. I won’t feel you are taking advantage. There should be some reward for drawing guard duty on the crazy Human.”
“Thank you. I have a Red Tree payment card, and a small personal allowance everybody gets living in the City, but the Mothers are notoriously… frugal. I have a couple of silver dollars Ceres in my pocket, but that won’t buy an appetizer here, not even the Human portion.”
Freed of those constraints by Jeff he ordered quickly.
“These things seem contradictory to me,” Jeff said. “You are entrusted with nuclear weapons, but aren’t entrusted with pocket money. You’ve seen the classic cult film “Dr. Strangelove”, but I can’t see how you could possibly have the cultural awareness to understand the things in the film. You haven’t studied our history to know about the time period when that film was made and before and after it.
“In Human society, at least the Spacer version, you never advance in one thing and stay behind in others. You are expected to have a broad knowledge and make reasoned decisions from a knowledge of history and law and customs. We are entrusted with certain duties and responsibilities in a pretty common sequence. You get the ability to go about in public, to carry money and do business. You get your own friends outside the family. You live on your own and can seek licenses to fly or pilot or run ground cars or heavy equipment. You can get professional certifications or a body of customers. You may marry or join a political group or seek citizenship. It may take a couple of decades to progress from the start to a finish of being independent.”
That was obviously overwhelming to Strangelove and he was happy the appetizers showed up so he could have a reason to not talk.
“Of course, that’s where I lived. Central or Home, and The Lunar Republic are all similar. Down on Earth, everything is slower and more tightly regulated. In my father’s day, it used to be fairly easy for a young person to move from home and start living as an adult at eighteen years old. Now in North America, the culture from which Home sprang, it is difficult to do it before you are twenty-four. A lot of businesses won’t hire you before your full majority, and it’s difficult to buy insurance or sign purchase agreements for a house or ground car. You can’t even buy alcohol until you are twenty-four.”
“How old must you be to be an adult on Central or Home?” Strangelove asked.
“No set age. The community has to vote to grant you adult status,” Jeff said, “and Heather has vetoed a couple from even being considered they were so ill-regarded.”
“Dear gods, I know some in the clan who might never get it,” Strangelove said.
Jeff just smiled and shrugged. “Perhaps that’s safer for everybody, including them.”
“They showed the nuclear weapons techs in training several Human films dealing with nukes and nuke war. They took a lot of explaining,” Strangelove admitted. “We’d undoubtedly have benefited from a wider study, but what I got was Humans have a deep aversion to using them on the surface of a planet, to the point of almost being a superstition culturally, but deploy them with indifference in space.”
“That seems a reasonable conclusion,” Jeff said.
“The fear of nuclear weapons was easy to get from the film, the confusion was from little things that didn’t make any sense. One thing I remember was a strange reluctance to damage a soft drink vending machine in the face of overwhelming need. I had to just let some of it go and embrace understanding the central message,” Strangelove said.
Jeff nodded understanding. “There was a time people actually worried that if all the weapons held by the Great Powers were used at once it would exterminate life on the planet. Now we know better. It might have killed civilization, but life itself is more resilient than that. We’ve screwed up and released some pretty nasty nuclear accidents contaminating large areas. They make magnificent wildlife preserves because truth be known, getting hunted by Humans or hit by ground cars and freight trucks is a bigger risk to wildlife than a tremendous dose of radiation.”
“Even with straight roads?” Strangelove asked.
“Is that the Derf – straining to look innocent face?” Jeff asked.
“You’re learning this stuff pretty quickly,” Strangelove complimented him.
Chapter 17
“Oh ho! The Foys did meet Singh,” Sam said aloud to Bill.
“Did you think they are aware of your surveillance and hid it from you?”
“No,” Sam admitted, a little deflated. “They’d have done a better job if they actually knew. It’s just they had a different car company drop a long-term rental off at their door and another car brought a Derf at the same time to be their driver. They rode directly to the port with him in the bigger car. After, they took him to the Old Hotel.”
“Singh’s visit is a break in their usual routine, so it’s not odd that they do things differently than usual. Did the driver come from the same car company? Or did he arrive in a car from another company? And since Miss Anderson lives in the Old Hotel, does this mean he is visiting her there or is it just a suitable hotel?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know,” Sam said. He was getting tired of this. Every time he had a few answers Bill had a bigger list of new questions.
* * *
“Did the Mothers assign you to drive me and be my bodyguard?” Jeff asked. He was chasing the last bit of apple dumpling around the bowl in which it was served. What he really wondered was if Lee knew he was on-planet, but was working up to that question. He didn’t think he should delay contacting her too long. He hadn’t even told the Foys to delay doing that directly. No harm if they said something to her.
“I’m not even sure they know you’re on-planet,” Strangelove said. “The Foys called the Champion, Garrett. He’s their go-to for security in their new embassy, and wherever else they may require it. They haven’t requested it in their temporary quarters, though it wouldn’t surprise me if Garrett has them under some sort of observation. He’s not the sort to let things get ahead of him and then find out he’s needed in the middle of a mess too far gone. In honesty, we haven’t seen any direct hostility to them and the building is fairly secure. We’re more concerned with somebody mapping the embassy internally or putting listening devices inside during construction.
“The Mothers may seem domineering to you, but they do value initiative. They oversee so many things they do not put up with endless reports of trivial matters from someone to whom they have given authority. If one tries to make oneself look important by announcing every trivial accomplishment, it’s possible to be sacked for a less able worker who doesn’t run to the Great Hall four times a day. So Garrett may not have said anything to the Mothers as long as it’s going well. It is going well, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’m getting a feel for the planet, and it’s helpful to meet you since my acquaintance with Derf has been limited. I don’t want to assume you are a big Human in a furry suit. Gordon is the only Derf I’ve sat and chatted with, and that in a group.”
Strangelove’s face changed, and it wasn’t a cute smirk with the corners curled up.
“OK, you flashed on something strong there, but I can’t read what,” Jeff admitted. “Is there a problem between you and Gordon?”
“No not at all, not a problem, it’s difficult to explain. Name who first comes to mind if I say: The greatest Human military strategist who ever lived.”
“Sun Tzu,” Jeff said without hesitation.
“I haven’t heard of him, but as you are learning, we tend to only be taught what applies to our specialty in the clan,” Strangelove said. “But imagine if I said to you. I’m happy to sit and chat with you because my contact with Humans has been limited. The only fellow I’ve ever chatted with was Sun Tzu.”
“That… might be a little intimidating,” Jeff admitted.
“It has to be rough for Garrett,” Strangelove said, “because he’s Champion and head of the military, but when it comes to space warfare and strategy all he can really do is turn Gordon loose to do his thing and be glad he has his service. There really isn’t any way he could pretend to direct him without looking ridiculous.”
“No one person can know everything,” Jeff said. “We all depend on others who have specialties. But I don’t want to talk to you about military tactics. I’m not terribly interested in that, so there no need to compare yourself to Gordon that way. In fact, I never talked about space warfare with him. Heather was the one who told him some war stories. I want to get a feel for Derf personalities. At least you do show emotions on your face. Even if I can’t read them well yet, but it’s a start.”
“You should watch some children’s videos,” Strangelove suggested.
“Now that’s nothing I expected to hear,” Jeff said. “Tell me why.”
“They exaggerate all the facial expressions and emotions in their voices to beat the kids over the head with the message. Not every cub is destined to be a great thinker you know. You will see what Derf consider their basic values they wish their youth to learn. We may not all manage to live those values perfectly, but as you said, it’s a start. You can’t even tell if somebody is being a jerk if you aren’t sure what they are supposed to do by local standards.”
“I think you are basically describing a morality play,” Jeff said. “If they are for children then I imagine they are all in Derf.”
“Yes, but the auto-translation is pretty good now, and it can caption for you in English while you hear the Derf. It also wouldn’t kill you to accidentally learn a little Derf,” Strangelove suggested.
“OK, get me one to watch in the suite before bed. In the morning I’ll tell the Foys I need to meet Lee and her people and get down to business.”
“Whatever you wish,” Strangelove agreed.
“You aren’t charged with gathering any intelligence on me, are you?” Jeff asked. “You show no curiosity, and let pass a perfect opening to ask, and what business is that?” Actually, it was bugging Jeff a little that nobody was asking.
“If they want a spy they’d be better off picking some naturally devious fellow. I’ve enough on my plate without constantly trying to remember two jobs at once. By coincidence, I’ve heard Gordon is that sort, to run parallel problems in his head like a freaking computer, but you’ve already met him to judge that.”
Jeff thought on that a moment. “I can maybe see that,” he decided.
* * *
“I’m up and ready to get on with the day,” Jeff said, in a text. He wasn’t sure the Foys were morning people and Strangelove and he were both up before the sun cleared the horizon. He’d gotten up first and found out that Strangelove could be a bit short in the morning. It didn’t offend him, it amused him, and reinforced he was getting the truth from the tech, because he didn’t seem able to hide anything, including irritation.
“That’s a nice half mug for me,” Strangelove said when he stumbled out and looked disgusted at the coffee maker. “What are you going to have, little Human?”
A quick call to room service fixed that and possibly saved Jeff’s life. They had a huge urn of coffee on a cart at the entry almost as soon as the coffee maker had a full pot.
“I was trying not to bang around,” Jeff said, almost apologizing. “Is Derf hearing that keen or did you smell the coffee?”
Strangelove lowered the mug obscuring his face just long enough to say, “Yes.”
He tilted it back to finish chugging it down. The second mug, Jeff noticed, got honey added and was savored much slower than the first, medicinal mug.
“If clan Derf don’t get cash pay and the Mothers are cheap, I’m surprised you have a taste for star goods like coffee,” Jeff said.
Strangelove held a single digit aloft to claim the floor to speak. It was a polite digit but firm. “First never say ‘cheap’ when speaking of the Mothers. They speak excellent English, much better than me with a full folio of idioms and even regional expressions and accents. The Third Mother can do high or low British, New England Yankee and Jamaican, which my ear can’t tell from the British. They will know when they are being insulted, and cheap is never a compliment in English. Frugal is even pushing it, but economically conservative would probably be taken as a compliment. In their minds, they are generous and open-handed to the point of spoiling us and risking privation and starvation of the clan the next fiscal year.”
He lowered the digit to indicate he’d suffer interruption now.
Jeff took advantage and asked, “How is it she would learn all those accents?”
“Gossip about the Keep is that she is absolutely addicted to Human videos. What would be a shameful waste of time if I did it is ‘research’ for a Mother.
“Furthermore, coffee is no longer star goods but grown locally. It must not be too bad compared to the homeworld stuff. My spies at the first table say Lee likes it just fine. If she can live here in the Old Hotel one may assume she could afford the real bean and probably does. This the hotel serves tastes the same as the local stuff to me. Did you find it palatable?”
“Yes, I’ve had better, but rarely. The best Hawaiian or Jamaican in a good year is noticeably more flavorful, and a really good Ethiopian could give it a run in a blind taste test, but what is this about Lee living here? You didn’t tell me she lives in the hotel, not at the Red Tree enclave. I’d have thought it just convenient to have a town apartment in the Capital and main port.”
“You didn’t ask where she lives, did you?” Strangelove asked, reasonably. “All Red Tree security people know she lives here, but she doesn’t take Red Tree security, just like the Foys and the Badger embassy. If you are going to contact her today, it will be easy to meet. You both have rooms suitable for a meeting or you can borrow one from the hotel or meet in a banquet room if you wish to offer hospitality. I’m not sure there is any way to connect on the floor. You each have an elevator in the center and a stairwell on the outside corner right by the doors to the balcony. There is a security door to the next level down. The corner balconies are separated by a huge gap. If you could reach across that you’d have the means to scale the façade of the building anyway.”
“No roof access?” Jeff asked.
“Not unless you can break into the service elevator,” Strangelove said.
“I’ve sent text to the Foys already,” Jeff said. “It is rather early. I was only off of the local clock about six hours but it was shifted the other way, so this isn’t as early to me. I requested a meeting with Lee and a couple of researchers she employs. Should I have invited Gordon? I don’t mean to offend either of them by excluding him.”
“As it happens, I was told Gordon went home to Red tree, that’s just gossip you understand. Gordon is of interest, he’s entertaining really, to most of the clan.”
“They seemed a package deal when I met them on the Moon,” Jeff said.
“Gordon claims he is still raising Lee, but as with any youngster, she gradually does more things on her own. He still flew them to Providence recently. If I had anything as grand as a ship, I’d love to have Gordon fly it. He’s the best.”
“So I’ve been told,” Jeff said.
“This is good coffee,” Strangelove said returning to that topic, “but the honey really makes it. I usually have it with sugar, but I may ask my breakfast place why they don’t offer honey.”
There was a small print-out discreetly tucked under the serving set platter and Strangelove, curious, pulled it out.
Jeff wasn’t prepared for Strangelove to grasp his chest like a human in cardiac arrest. It seemed heartfelt rather than put on, because he had his claws fully extended. Jeff was impressed. He’d never seen them on full display, spread on his chest.
“That is… outrageous,” Strangelove protested.
Jeff asked by extending his hand, and Strangelove yielded the slip.
“Yes, four hundred dollars Ceres for a hundred grams does seem a bit steep, but hotels always charge two or three times what independent restaurants would charge. So it must be star goods like I thought the coffee. The cream isn’t that cheap either, it’s probably the real thing too, stabilized and irradiated. I don’t take either, but thought you might. Have you ever tried the cream in your coffee?” Jeff asked, offering the slip back.
“I haven’t, but I will now since you are already charged for it. I thank you for the experience,” Strangelove said.
“It’s like a dessert,” Strangelove decreed after adding the cream.
“Some people add chocolate or caramel,” Jeff said, “or muck it all up with liqueurs and things. I actually like the taste of coffee, so I leave it alone. If you like it you might put them in the refrigerator, otherwise, they will probably take them along when they get the cart.”
The com pinged and Jeff took it in his spex, but put it on the wall screen out of courtesy to Strangelove. It was Victor Foy, and Jeff decided he had nothing to be gained by hiding his plans from Strangelove this near putting them in motion.
“Good early morning,” Vic said. “Up early or did you just work through the night?” Vic of course, knew Jeff required less sleep than unaltered Humans. Strangelove might not be aware of that.
“Now really, the sun is streaming in the doors to the balcony. If we don’t order breakfast soon it will be lunch,” Jeff protested with mock cheerfulness, laying it on thick. “I’d love to get a meeting with Lee set up, unless she is another slug-a-bed who gets up mid-day or later,” Jeff reminded him, “her people too.”
Vic’s reply was rude and visual and shocked Strangelove who couldn’t imagine treating a peer of one’s sovereign that way.
“People have been known to disappear on far planets and are never to be found, tooth nor nail,” Vic warned.
“My goodness, I’ll be careful,” Jeff said, which just confused Strangelove further. “You could have told me Lee Anderson actually resides in the very same building in which you planted me. Not that I’m complaining about the accommodations. It’s quite pleasant, the room service was prompt, and I think Strangelove wants to live here. It’s just one of those details you might have told me.”
“Mmmm… I guess we could have,” Vic admitted. “Would you have done anything differently between then and now if you’d known? Sent her a fruit basket or had a courier deliver your calling card on a silver platter?”
“Stop being infuriatingly logical,” Jeff demanded. “You are supposed to guess my every need and desire in advance.”
That bizarre a statement had Strangelove wide-eyed in disbelief.
“This usually requires a second cup of coffee to juice the mojo,” Vic said, putting his fingers on his temples and squinting, “but you’re so testy I’m thinking you need more than your morning coffee to be civil. Why don’t you have breakfast with Strangelove and don’t wait for us? If you don’t boost your blood sugar soon you’ll probably do something foolish like overthrow the government or invent something. I’ll be along with the Mrs. soon, if she doesn’t strangle me like she’s making motions now that she intends to do.”
“That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard today,” Jeff agreed. “Do please at least text Lee if it’s too early to call her.”
“Already did, again, while you were going on and on, I can multitask like that pretty well. I wouldn’t suggest we ask a third time though, it looks needy.”
“Thank you. So, mosey on over when you care to join us. With a little luck, Lee will call in her people and we can have a meeting today.”
“You got it Chief. You want to talk to her Ladyship before I sign off?” Vic asked.
“Not at all, you’ve handled everything needful admirably. I’ll commend you to her for that,” Jeff promised.
“Gee thanks, Boss. Make sure that gem goes on my permanent record,” Vic said and disconnected.
Strangelove sat, still in overload, looking thoughtful. “I don’t understand what I just heard,” he admitted. Then, instead of every reasonable question he might have asked, said, “How does one mosey?”
“It’s far easier to show than explain,” Jeff said. He got up and walked across the room like the living dead, turned and stood straighter, his face transformed, and he drew his arms up with a little flourish. He danced back across the room light footed making a slow spectacle of the needlessly complicated procession all out of proportion to the time and distance covered.
A huge smile spread on Strangelove’s face. “This is a new thing to me. This is art. You declare to everyone you have no concern or need to hurry. You are totally centered. One dares intrude on your space and impede you at great risk. I love it!”
“You got it in one,” Jeff admitted. “I wasn’t sure it would translate, Human to Derf.”
“I think the one informs the other,” Strangelove said, tentatively. “Your conversation with Victor Foy makes sense now. You invite him to mosey, not rush here and attend me, minion. You invite insolence. It’s exaggerated play-acting. Am I right?”
“Spot on,” Jeff said. “Surely there are senior people in the clan who tweak the Mothers’ noses and remind them they aren’t quite god-like ones?”
“A few, and one must be deeply confident to dare try it. I am not of a mind to try it just yet. Maybe in fifty years or so if I think myself irreplaceable. One may get away with it, or one may be assigned to hand-number all the trees on Red Tree land this side of the mountains and submit a written report when done. Is Vic Foy that good?”
“Vic Foy is the sort who would go pick a star and start his own Kingdom if he didn’t like the way you ran yours. Even if he wasn’t that good he’s that confident. His wife is Lady Foy and declared Heather’s peer. I suspect Heather hesitates to elevate Vic to his peerage because he never doubted he was her peer, and doesn’t need the label to feel any better about himself.”
Strangelove nodded, a learned gesture but well done. “Let’s go get breakfast before they are sitting here waiting for us to return. But first, tell me if I have this right.”
He stood, set his mind and walked away from Jeff haughty as a King in his natural splendor, even from behind. He turned and made a slight spread of his hands and dipped his head. Then he came back across the room with the full effect throttled down to merely confident instead of arrogant.
Jeff just applauded him rather than say anything. If clapping wasn’t Strangelove’s custom, he figured out its purpose, and gave a little bow before he slipped the persona off like a jacket. “Let’s go eat,” he suggested.
* * *
“They gathered, but I have a new data point,” Sam said. “The Derf who came to drive the Foys came straight from their embassy, but he is also connected to a house in the city that shows on public records as a recent purchase of Red Tree. He takes a car there from the port often enough that he must come from the Keep on a regular basis.”
“A whole new player?” Bill asked, intrigued.
“The Derf is at the Old Hotel, I suspect with Singh, and the Foys have called a car to take them to the hotel,” Sam said. “I’m not sure how to find out more on the Derf.”
“Well if he is at the hotel and you have Singh and the Foys located there safely, why not swing by this mystery address and check it out?” Bill suggested.
“You want to come along?” Sam offered. To his surprise, Bill agreed.
* * *
The Foys were waiting in the suite when Jeff and Strangelove returned. Vic made himself at home and was drinking a beer straight from the bottle. It was a small bottle, for a Derf. The Foys were dressed nicer than yesterday. Jeff wondered if that was for him or for Lee? They immediately informed him they were waiting for her return call. She didn’t know if her researchers were available and was contacting them.
* * *
The house was of a very old style, perched on great stones with green aged copper or bronze saddles cast in the rock supporting big beams black with age. The house reminded Sam of some he’d seen in the northern islands of Japan, but it was no rustic setting, it was right on the street like a townhouse. The tiled roof was of a similar sort to the Asian model, but shaped differently, more like the Italians style. It was of an old form limited to a tiny core of the Old Town. They still managed to make the street a sharp curve even if there wasn’t a green space around each building here. There had once been a common open space around a circle, but that was long gone before Humans arrived and the Derf equivalent of suburbs was allowed. That happened after peace was agreed upon as law for the trade towns by all the clan Mothers. A couple stubbornly resistant clans disappeared forever in the end process, which ended a millennium of bickering.
Sam scanned the building briefly. “There are three big heat sources consistent with Derf. There’s a bunch of weak electronic signals, but no attempts at sophisticated shielding. I see no radar or sonic proximity alarms. I’m not sure what to use as an excuse to approach the door.”
“Want to go buy a pizza and pretend you are delivering it?” Bill suggested.
“Nobody hand delivers,” Sam said. “I mean, they just have the car do it.”
“They have a bell by the door, I mean a real bell, not a push button to ring an electronic bell. I remember this old flat movie I watched one time. The kids put a bag on the porch of an old curmudgeon they hated and set it on fire. Then they rang the bell and ran. I never did understand that movie.”
“That sounds like an excellent way to get shot as an arsonist,” Sam said.
“Want to just go home?” Bill asked. “You can go back through all the drone shots of this address and see who comes and goes. Then track each of them… ”
Sam had had quite enough of that slow process. “I’ll just brazen it out,” he decided, and got out of the car. He waited a second to see if Bill was coming, but he just smiled and waved bye.
There wasn’t any striker for the bell, so he fished in his pocket and found his pocketknife tapping the bell end on. It had a pleasant deep tone when struck, but Sam wondered if he’d hit it hard enough? He had, because the door opened quickly enough.
The Derf who answered filled the door, and it was a full Derf sized door, not some dinky little man door. Sam’s mouth went a little dry because the fellow was wearing modern soft body armor with a ballistic faceplate and high-end spex behind it. He had a twenty-millimeter auto-pistol hung on his chest harness, but he was ignoring it, favoring a handful of ax that looked suitable for felling Sequoias.
“Oh, do you speak English?” Sam managed to ask.
“A bit, but we don’t need any more religious tracts, thank you.”
“Then this isn’t the Collins’ house?” Sam said. “My bad, sorry,” he managed to add before the Derf could even reply. The Derf nodded, indifferent, and was closing the door before Sam had fully turned away. The way Sam walked back to the car reminded Bill of a toddler who had just had an accident.
“Car, take us home,” Sam said. “I have no idea what we have here, but it sure isn’t a Derf retirement home or Ma Derf’s rooming house.”
Bill smiled, amused. “So now you get to research it the hard way anyway.” It wasn’t a question.
Chapter 18
Born and Musical were creating a test disk at the engineering lab. They pulled up stools and sat in front of the machine not because they expected anything to go wrong, but because they didn’t trust the engineering students not to mess with the running machine or their professor Leonardo not to come by in their absence and try to snoop on what stock they were feeding it or copy the program.
Born’s phone and Musical’s sounded at the same time. It was a voice call, which was unusual for Lee. Normally she left a text and wasn’t in a hurry to have an answer that day much less right now.
“You talk to her,” Musical insisted. Born frowned but complied.
“Please let me know when you are both available to come to the Old Hotel. We have a meeting requested with Jeff Singh. I don’t have details, but the fact it is him and he’s here makes me expect it to be of importance,” Lee said.
“We are mid-process in the engineer’s hall and can’t walk away from our equipment in the middle of the run,” Born sent. “We should be done and able to leave in another hour and a half. Should we come then? Is that too late?”
“That’s fine,” Lee sent back. “Ask the hotel staff to show you the elevator for Singh’s suite and join us when you can.”
“We’re not meeting at your suite in the Old Hotel?” Born asked, surprised.
“No, Singh has taken one of the other suites and is hosting us,” Lee said.
“Oh, that’s good, we don’t have to find a new place,” Born said. “Do you know what Singh wants?”
“I said I don’t have any details, and nobody else has bothered to inform me if they know. I can’t imagine he’d come in person for a trivial message, he’d just forward it through the Foys. Do message me if you run into problems and can’t come. That’s all,” she added, and actually sounded a bit curt, to make clear she was done with the exchange before disconnecting. That was really out of character.
“Lee doesn’t usually rush us like this,” Born said, worried.
“Maybe she is going to fire you and put me in charge,” Musical said, stoking Born’s insecurity shamelessly.
“I don’t actually remember her ever putting me in charge,” Born objected. “I thought she gave us a mandate as partners.”
“How modest of you, yet you order me around like a hired workman,” Musical said.
“I do? But we get paid the same. If I’m the driving force I should get paid more.”
“Driving force? More like a pain in the butt,” Musical said.
“Someone has to examine it from the finely nuanced vision of theoretical physics instead of the narrow pragmatic view of engineering,” Born said.
“Make it work you mean. You could always ditch me and enlist your peer, Leonardo, to make the nuts and the bolts of it work,” Musical suggested.
“Technically he’s a peer of my boss, who never bothers me as long as I don’t burn the lab down. I’m sure it irritates his sense of self-importance to even need to speak with us directly. I’d trust Leonardo as far as you could throw him,” Born said.
“I’d be doing good to lie on the floor and trip him,” Musical said. A Badger was about a tenth of the mass of a full grown male Derf.
Born just smiled without saying anything.
“You’re picturing him falling on me, aren’t you? You might as well admit it, because I know what a crude low sense of humor you have.”
“I do have a mental picture of a Badger tail sticking out from under a big brown pile of lard,” Born said, drawing a mound shape with his hands.
“I don’t think that’s the right English word,” Musical said. “Maybe Lee has some fresh data. Don’t assume it is bad.”
“Singh isn’t going to give us data. It’s their policy to keep us locked out. If anything I expect he’s here to pressure us to quit,” Born worried. “I hope not, since we’re almost ready to do some remote testing. It would be terrible to be cut off before we have a chance to try it. I think we are close to several breakthroughs. We had a setback, but I think things are going really well.”
“Maybe the Central Humans decided to share their secrets after all, and we’ll get the design prints handed to us on a platter, so all that is left is detail work,” Musical said.
“Yeah sure, and maybe Lee gene engineered a red tree to grow Ceres dollars on one side and solars on the other. It’s about as likely,” Born countered.
“We should still take the time to clean up and get the lab smell off us,” Musical said. “No reason not to make a good appearance.”
“Sure, I can comb out your pelt,” Born offered, looking extra innocent.
“Coat,” Musical reminded him, irritated, “coat. You know the difference.”
* * *
“This is Lee, I’m at your elevator. You have to OK it to come down and pick me up.”
“House, can you send the elevator down to bring a guest up?”
“Do you wish to set up permissions or allow anyone in the suite to admit people?” a woman’s voice asked from all around them.
“May that be edited later?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, the first person who was granted access must touch the pad again to edit.”
“Let anyone invite guests up for the time being,” Jeff said. “House, send the elevator down now to bring a guest up.”
“Thank you, command in process.”
“Hi Jeff,” Lee said when she stepped in, as if they’d just seen each other just last week. She was dressed casually and didn’t have a visible gun but wore a very fancy decorative dagger. The one detail that absolutely established her status were gold hoop earrings for each of her voyages of discovery, with Sapphire and Emerald stones dangling. Jeff understood each stone represented the discovery of a water world or a living world. It was a display of staggering wealth beyond mere land holdings or the ownership of starships.
“This is interesting. You have the same carpet and wall colors as my place.”
She waved at the Foys and looked hard at Strangelove. “You’re Red Tree,” she said.
“Yes Mistress,” he said, and volunteered nothing more.
She turned back to Jeff, who had stood for her, but he sat again and waved her to take a seat by him. “If you’re on a long-term lease I’d think you could decorate any way you’d like,” Jeff said, “at your own expense of course.”
“Maybe, if I get tired of it,” Lee said. “I like it just fine for right now. Are you going to keep this place or is it just for this trip?”
“I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps I should keep it. If we grow closer and do more business it’s good to have a permanent place for people who come from Central, and the Foys may eventually have people from other clans than Red Tree come to the City who they wouldn’t want at guest the embassy.”
“Is that why you are here?” Lee asked. It wasn’t meant to drop a bomb in the conversation going straight to such a blunt question. It would have been rude or aggressive for most people. Jeff didn’t as much as blink.
“Absolutely,” Jeff agreed. “We screwed up, then you screwed up, and we’d really rather not continue taking turns at it. Rather, time to stop doing that.”
“Tell me the timeline,” Lee requested.
“We should have asked and offered a full alliance and shared technologies before, but we didn’t trust you. We accept that was an error. That ignored our own history of developing the tech, which was not trouble-free. We should have known you’d have the same difficulties and we could bear responsibility for not helping you.
“We were using gravitational tech as a weapon against surface targets on Earth to gain our independence, targeting military installations in San Diego, and unleashed far more destruction over a wider area than we intended. We triggered what is now known as The Great San Diego Earthquake by poking deep in the Earth under our targets with a gravity lance, though that name for it came along later.”
“The same as my guys generated an earthquake in the City recently?” Lee asked.
“Yes, we saw your net searches and news of the quake after that and assumed you’d done the same.”
“You can track my net searches?” Lee demanded, not pleased.
“Pretty much anything you or your researchers search against your com account on the Earth nets,” Jeff said, without apology.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” Lee said.
“Anonymity is really difficult even from inside the beast,” Jeff admitted. “It would take real effort and routing through other star systems to hide ship mail.”
“So, you know everything Born and Musical have been searching,” Lee said.
Jeff said nothing because it wasn’t a question.
“How did we screw up?” Lee asked him. “It seems to me we’re doing pretty good.”
“Because you came close to causing a huge disaster. If the region under Derfhome was as seismically active as San Diego you could have destroyed the town with thousands killed. This tech should be tested carefully away from population centers. There are similar drawbacks and hazards in other applications of the tech, and we don’t want blood on our hands from refusing to share what we know.”
“I had a big discussion with Born about that,” Lee said. “The Mothers apparently aren’t as strict about liability as Humans. After thinking on it I decided it is largely that Human judges serve the law and here the law serves the Mothers. They wish to get things done and once an unintended mistake happens there is little to be gained from punishing the person who made it. There isn’t that vindictive idea of punishment for manslaughter Humans have.
“You’d have to display a really reckless disregard for life and limb for them to want to make a public example of you. But then, unlike a Human judge, they are in a lot better position to fire people from jobs at which they failed. They can assign you to a new job that is a sentence in everything but name. There is no union or professional society trying to save an incompetent’s position. Indeed, the Mothers are a lot better at accepting some of the blame for not removing a person before they did harm.”
“That sounds rational, and I understand the advantages,” Jeff said, “but I don’t feel that way. Now sometimes, trying to assign blame to a group is stupid or outright prejudiced, especially if people had no choice about being part of a group. Yet I once bombarded a Chinese spaceport off the map because they stole my ship. There were lots of people there who didn’t directly steal my ship, but they worked for and supported their government that was happy to do so. What can I reasonably expect of people? They worked for thieves and yet the other choices they had in life may have been really bad. They may have had really limited opportunity to do anything else but work for crooks.”
“I had to either harm people who were relatively innocent, or risk our very survival by letting them steal my ship. I still have bad dreams and conflicted feelings about it.”
“Sometimes there are no good choices,” Lee insisted.
“Well, we decided we no longer have any compelling interest in keeping our gravitational tech from you. Every indication is you will have the same interests and reasons as us not to supply it to the Earth powers. We still do see that as something that would be chaos, but we can’t enforce it,” Jeff said, frowning.
“You don’t have to enforce it. I’ve been to Earth. I know how crazy it is from the inside. We don’t need that loose among the stars. We need friends among the stars. We’re prepared to work with you, and I think you will find the Badgers and the Bills can be reasonable people. The Badger, Talker, is a true friend to me, and that’s something they don’t treat lightly in their culture. Turn the Earth governments loose with your drive right now and we’d have interstellar war in a year,” Lee predicted.
“You encourage me that I’m doing the right thing, but it scares me,” Jeff admitted.
“What else do you want?” Lee asked.
“If you will share in turn, that would be well received, but we’re demanding nothing. I am charged to make a full disclosure to you by my sovereign.”
He lifted his hand and showed Heather’s ring. It was the mate to the one on Eileen’s hand.
“There are just a couple small secrets that are not mine to give,” Lee said. “I’d have to get permission from the other owners and shareholders of the Little Fleet. But I don’t expect that to be any great impediment even if they refuse.”
“Fair enough,” Jeff said. “You may be unhappy we don’t know as much as you expect, and our source of materials is limited and may, in the end, be inferior to yours. We can both endeavour to be reasonable about each other’s limitations.”
“Done then,” Lee said, and held out her hand. They touched lightly, not a grasp and shake, and it was a contract.
The other three were sitting like statues and Lee became aware of them and blushed.
“One does not mean to ignore you entirely,” she said.
“Mistress, one does not interrupt history being made,” Strangelove said, softly. “I am greatly privileged to witness it.”
That seemed to satisfy the Foys too.
“Would you write it up in brief, plain terms, Eileen?” Jeff asked. “Our Sovereign will want it as an addendum to the previous treaty, but this lays no additional burden on the Mothers, so no need to go to them.”
“No need,” Lee agreed. “But I have my own seal and authority to bind them as their Voice. It would be respectful to include them.”
She opened her hand and displayed her new seal.
Strangelove looked shocked. They Mothers had given it to her in front of witnesses, but apparently they saw no need to publicize an internal affair.
Eileen worked her pad and stopped, frowning in concentration and tapped a few times again. She handed it to Victor and said, “Proofread that and make sure I didn’t leave some stupid typo in it that will haunt me for eternity.”
“Precise as always, my dear, and exactly what I heard them agree to.”
Eileen took the pad back and approached them but wasn’t sure of the protocol and laid it on the table between them.
Jeff gave a single slow nod that was almost a bow for Lee to read it first.
“This speaks to sharing all the gravitational tech, from both of us. I want to make sure of your mind on this. Is that your intent?” Lee asked.
“They are all so tied together, and we are both working to advance their use, I don’t see as a practical matter how we could divide them up into separate applications at this time. We could discover something new the treaty didn’t cover, and I don’t want to tempt us, or those under us, to bicker over details. It should be broad,” Jeff said.
“Agreed,” Lee said, and handed it over.
“It looks correct to me,” Jeff said. “Now, does Derf law require this to be published as a contract? That could create political problems for us.”
“No,” Lee said, “not any more than the Mother would publish their declarations of law as a public contract. Agreements between sovereign entities are shared between them and revealed at their pleasure. Neither is there anyone superior to enforce them but their own honor as peers and by force of arms if all else fails.”
Lee held her breath and waited for Jeff to object she wasn’t a sovereign entity, but he didn’t as much as blink.
“House, is there a printer in this suite with some decent quality paper?” Jeff asked.
“There is one in the com desk that stocks four grades of paper, transparent film, and card stock,” the computer answered.
“Print the document I’m uploading on the best presentation grade paper, with blank room on the bottom for signatures,” Jeff instructed. “Make it about four times the commonest book size and the print proportional. We’ll want a sample copy now.”
“Processing.”
The end of the document appeared before the word was finished.
Eileen brought the copy to him, looking it over along the way. Jeff handed it to Lee and she looked a little surprised.
“It’s much nicer than the standard letter paper. I didn’t know it could do that.”
“Is that a yes then?” Jeff asked.
“Oh, yes, I think it’s rather nice.
“House, make us another nine copies the same as the last,” Jeff ordered.
“Now the manual part,” Jeff said and produced a pen. He signed it with a flourish and pressed his hanko down, overlapping the ‘J’ of his signature. Lee signed her short name rather than full Derf name because the Mothers’ seal included that. Lee’s didn’t have an integral printer, so she had to ink it then stamp across her signature. It took some time to do all ten.
“That’s the hard part,” Lee said. “My researchers are coming soon. Would you like to come over to my apartment and we’ll all have a little lunch together before we get into round two with them?”
“If you don’t mind, let’s just have a bite together here,” Jeff suggested. “We could all shift over to your place if you want, but why bother? It’s the same kitchen. I’m happy to host, but I’m not much at arranging dinner parties, would you do the honors of telling room service what we need?” Jeff asked.
“You’re over thinking it,” Lee said. “Watch how easy it is.”
“House, we’d like a buffet served for four humans, two Derf, and a Badger. The humans all have gene modified metabolisms, so figure double portions. Label or segregate the badger portions where safety dictates. Go heavy on cold appetizers and hot desserts, coffee, mineral water, and beer. Maintain temperature and offer any leftovers worth saving to staff or local charities.”
“Processing order. A printout of the proposed menu will be on your com desk if you wish to examine it for modification,” the house computer responded.
“They’re really good if they can work from such simple orders,” Jeff said. “I’d expect to be pestered with checklists and hundreds of choices.”
“Why do you think I live here?” Lee said.
“OK, you convince me to keep this suite on a multi-year lease. It will make it easier for the Foys to spy on you from next door,” Jeff quipped.
“And easier for me to keep an eye on Central business,” Lee shot right back.
“Oh! We need some tubes or folios or something for these treaties,” Jeff said.
“I’ll talk to the Concierge Service,” Lee said. “Watch, they’ll have them here before we are done with dinner.”
Chapter 19
Musical was always a little intimidated by visiting the Old Hotel. Everything was scaled for Derf, and Badgers ran even a bit smaller than Humans. Even the homes of great families tended to be snug inside no matter how imposing from the outside. The only thing that came close to the imposing cavernous lobby in Musicals experience was the Great Hall of Justice. He compensated by being extra snarky and irreverent.
He let Born inquire of the check-in desk what elevator to take, and was given a guide to walk them to the correct lift instead of just telling them the number. There were only four of them clustered after all. Maybe the fellow wanted to be right there so if they were denied entry, he could give them what Lee called the bum’s rush.
Even when Jeff answered and sent the elevator down the fellow stood there until they were safely in the car and the doors closed. Musical felt like they were under suspicion, but the fellow was so polite about it he had no opportunity to complain.
When the door opened and they entered the suite, there were more people than expected. There was a Derf present neither of them knew, and a Human couple seated closely by him, with a human standing talking to them. There were a couple other Derf with Lee, setting up a buffet, but they had on the green vests that marked them as hotel workers. It smelled of food in the room strongly. The strange Human standing must be Singh. He turned to them smiling.
“Hello, I’m Jeff Singh,” he said, before Lee could come over and do introductions. “I’m glad to finally meet both of you.”
He offered Musical his hand in the Human manner and Musical used to Spacers didn’t grab and pump, but gave Jeff’s hand a feather’s touch. Born not being an idiot noted the style and emulated it. You could find devotees of both styles on Derfhome. You could usually anticipate which was coming by how they held their thumb. Neither researcher expected such a warm greeting for a business meeting.
“We’ve been discussing business and formalizing some agreements, but we’re taking a break and having dinner before we bring you up to speed, is that fine with you two?”
“One must eat in any case,” Born said. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Your partner Lee ordered, so any complaints about the menu must be addressed to her. She gave me a lesson on how to deal with room service. I believe there are some dishes peculiar to Badgers and others marked for your safety,” he told Musical. But here, let me introduce those you don’t know.”
He identified Strangelove and the Foys, explaining what their relationship was to everyone else.
“Then senior tech Strangelove is Red Tree?” Born asked.
“Silly me, I should have known clan affiliation would be important to you,” Jeff said. “Yes, Strangelove is Red Tree and at the level of command that reports to their champion. Are you of a different clan, and how would that affect your dealings with Strangelove? I’m afraid I am ignorant of these things.”
“I’m a second generation town Derf. My father was Green Stone clan from the same continent as Red Tree, though not neighbors. My mother was from Big Sky clan from this side of the ocean, but she was an outlaw and technically clanless. My father was a mechanic and also the sort Humans would call a machinist. He decided to stay when his contract with the business for the clan ended. He sent a little home from each pay, but the next time he went to visit he felt unwelcome, and he stopped sending even that. I never got to meet his kin. You might regard me as clanless, but I am not an outlaw. There is no more hostility or camaraderie between Strangelove and me than there is between us,” Born said, flipping a true hand between himself and Jeff.
“I don’t mean to offend, but why then did you ask?” Jeff said, puzzled.
“Because you are right,” Born said, laughing. “Clan means a lot to Derf even if they don’t have one. Red Tree is rich, and I know its history. They were the first contact for Humans and spoke their law for everyone without consultation to form a treaty for all Derf with them, and they warred with Humans for breaking that treaty. They are still the only clan with the nerve to announce others under their protection, like the Badger and Bill embassy. They are the only one I know of to accept a Human as a clan member and use her as their Voice like this one,” he said, nodding at Lee.
“And about a third of all legal challenges, this generation, have been to Red Tree. Their previous champion was forced to kill more than one challenger at the same event. To try to wear a fellow down was unheard of. They stopped lining up to take turns like that when he beat the last one to death with the flat of his ax rather than cut him. When he got through, he just turned to the other challengers all gore splattered and said, ‘Next’. He was old when he did that, and now when a champion talks about challenging Red Tree’s new guy his peers just invite him to go ahead and be next.”
“And on that note, the hotel people are done setting the buffet,” Jeff said. “I hope that doesn’t put anybody off their feed.”
“Nah, I knew William,” Lee said. “He was a sweetie and I miss him. He declared himself my personal champion before the Mothers and made things a lot easier for me with them. Let’s eat.”
A sweetie, Jeff thought, I guess that depended on if he was on your side.
* * *
Dinner was instructive to Musical, a little better taste of how the rich actually live than their visits with Lee alone. He was the only Badger there, but they had a spread of Badger-safe dishes on one end of the buffet sufficient to serve his embassy. There were six serving carts attached end to end to make a long buffet table, then draped attractively. The hotel staff was smart enough to mark off his dishes by draping a yellow cloth over one end while the rest of the long table was covered in white cloths. His dishes were safe for Derf too. Only a few items set on a red napkin against the back wall with a warning sign were unsafe for Humans. Nothing was prohibited for Derf.
Born could tell Musical was anxious. He’d spent enough time now working with him to read his whisker puckers and ear movements. He’d like to reassure him it was OK to relax and enjoy dinner but wasn’t going to say so out loud. The other Derf, Strangelove, would hear every word if he whispered it loud enough for Musical to understand. He could read Lee’s body language even better than Musical’s, and it was saying that everything was fine and under control. She was sitting by Jeff Singh and there wasn’t a trace of a cautious or adversarial set to her posture. She was laughing and speaking low. Low enough she might or might not know he could follow it all.
After thinking on it, he wondered if Musical would understand if he told him the same way he would inform Lee? It was worth a try. It was hard for him to relax and enjoy this seeing Musical suffering so. When Musical looked his way, he turned his head a little like he was going to speak, but instead, he gave him an exaggerated wink and then smiled. That wasn’t a natural Derf mannerism, he’d learned it from Lee and used it on a couple of other Humans very successfully. Had Musical learned that too?
Musical tensed and showed just the tips of his incisors, which was a deep stress indicator with Badgers, but then he looked at Lee really hard, with that muzzle pattern that said he was being thoughtful. When he looked back at Born, he gave that little head tilt that meant - really? Born gave one slow affirmative nod. Musical took a deep breath and gave one slow nod back, acknowledging his message.
It took a few minutes, but he relaxed and looked a lot happier. Born scanned the room to see if anyone noticed the by-play and thought he’d gotten away with it, until his eyes met Vic’s reflected in the window glass. The Human had that inscrutable look Lee called a poker face, and then he gave a small toothless smile before turning his attention back to his food. Oh well, no serious harm done, especially since Musical didn’t know they were caught out.
When everybody was satisfied the hotel staff came in and rolled the tables out, leaving one with the beverages and desserts. When they had some privacy again, Lee informed Singh she should bring her ‘guys’ up to speed before he talked shop with them. Lee got two copies of a document from the com desk and handed one to both Born and Musical.
“Here’s what Singh and I agreed to this afternoon,” Lee said. “As far as I’m concerned, it leaves our relationship the same. It just changes the direction of your work a little. Read it and tell me what you think.”
Born was fairly far into it before he became aware Musical was making the little snorting noises that were Badger laughter. Little snorts became full gasps, and Musical held his sides ricking with mirth.
“Do tell us when you can,” Lee begged. Everybody was interested.
Musical nodded, but Born knew what was coming and didn’t wait for him.
“He’s so amused because when we were asked here he guessed correctly that Central sent Mr. Singh here to share their gravitational tech with us.”
“I’m surprised he thought that,” Jeff said. “But I still don’t see why it is so hilarious.”
Musical recovered enough to answer. “Because Born said it was as likely that Lee was going to show us a gene engineered red tree, altered to grow Ceres dollars on one side and solars on the other.”
“And he will never let me forget it,” Born said.
“Neither would I,” Jeff said, smiling. “But try not to remind him every day. I’m going to be working with you awhile, and I’d like us all to get along,” he told Musical. “We’ll get into the deeper details between just the three of us. I’ll tell you our timeline of developing the tech, but would you tell us a little about how your own work has progressed? I’d like the Foys to have a general outline too.”
“Lee really had a solid concept of what she wanted to be investigated before she ever found Born and me and brought us together,” Musical started.
“She has an intuitive feel for the physical principles even if she has to describe them with words instead of math,” Born said, after Musical ran down. “Words are much harder actually. At least you need a lot more of them.”
“We knew from our gravity plate tech that we were looking for a superconductor,” Musical told Jeff when he took another turn. “The improvements the Caterpillars added to the device when we traded with them showed us it was a glassy material, so we had to basically start over and look for glassy superconductors after we had a ton of disks run with crystalline material. I suppose we should just discard them and clear out our storage locker.
“Some of them are toxic and will be difficult to strip and recycle. But if… ”
Strangelove’s eyes popped open, and he sat up straighter. You might not have thought he wasn’t listening, but that was obviously not true.
“Stop right there,” he said, with a restraining digit held vertical. “You have research materials held off-site not under the security umbrella of the university? I was already concerned with how secure your labs are, but Lee never asked Red Tree for additional security for your research. It’s not directly our concern so Garrett said to wait for Lee to request help if she wants it. What kind of security does this storage locker have?”
Musical looked surprised at the interruption, and the authority with which Strangelove suddenly commanded his response. He was suddenly aware none of the responsible parties were telling Strangelove it wasn’t any of his business. They were all silently but intently waiting for him to answer too.
“Well, it’s just a commercial storage facility, Westside Storage. Businesses use it for overflow or people rent them for personal property. You have to be a renter and get a passcode to enter the facility and you put your own lock on the door. I don’t think we ever mentioned it to Lee, because it isn’t important. It’s all the disks of failed materials we keep there.”
“A padlock? Is it at least a unique passcode so the facility can log time and duration of each customer entering?” Strangelove asked Musical. “Do they even run a video log?”
“I have no idea, I didn’t ask. They just gave me a swipe card and wrote four digits on it I have to enter. As far as I know, they might use the same numbers for everybody.”
It was probably a bad sign that Singh and the Foys all facepalmed simultaneously. He looked at Lee and she looked too stunned to breathe, much less react like the others.
“So, not only do you expose the broad nature of your research with these samples, but if somebody else is running the same research you are, you have no problem sharing all the things you have eliminated with them?” Strangelove asked.
“We uh, never really thought of it that way,” Musical admitted.
“How did you pay for the rental?” Strangelove asked.
“We paid a year’s lease. It’s a new facility across the ridge so being outside the city it’s really pretty reasonable,” Musical said, grasping for something positive to say.
“No, I mean, whose money? Did you pay cash or on your own accounts?”
“We just charged it to Lee’s bank like so many other small expenses,” Musical said.
“So, since there is a lease agreement it’s a publicly shared contract,” Strangelove said. It wasn’t a question. “Anybody can do a search and discover you keep stuff there.”
“I’m a technician and not a Derf anyway. I don’t think about how things are charged here to know if they are in the public contract database,” Musical said.
“But I should have,” Born said. Nobody contradicted him.
“That’s why you’re going to have security oversight now,” Lee said. “Meet your new director of research security,” Lee said, nodding at Strangelove, “at least until Garrett assigns somebody else for me, or helps me hire suitable commercial security.”
Born and Musical both nodded, embarrassed. “What do we do now?” Born asked.
“I’m going to call our clan facility here in the city and have two soldiers meet me at the storage facility to assess if it can be made remotely secure. I’ll put a guard on it until it can be moved or secured,” Strangelove said.
“I’m still at your disposal as driver and bodyguard,” he told Singh. “I’m sure I can wrap this up and be back at your service in a couple of hours.”
“As it happens,” Eileen Foy said, “we have rooms at the same facility, both for our household goods waiting for the embassy to be finished and for a project of our own. We’d like to come along and make sure neither of them has been compromised, since we are known associates of Lee.”
“I’ll come along,” Lee said. “I want to see this thing I rented. I’m at fault too, since I didn’t examine my bank charges line by line. There just isn’t time in the day to do that, so I’m going to give Strangelove access to it now to arrange for security checks. You do understand you have to agree you segregate that from any reporting to the Mothers?”
“I have no trouble with compartmenting my responsibilities,” Strangelove said.
“Well, I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs waiting for everybody to return and tell me what happened,” Jeff said. “I’ll tag along and see for myself.”
Strangelove looked unhappy, like he was trying to think about how to deny Jeff.
“Besides, better to be with my bodyguard than waiting on him,” Jeff said.
Strangelove didn’t like it but he gave a curt nod, accepting it.
“We can all fit in the same car if you little people will squeeze in the back seat together,” Strangelove said, standing up to go. “I’m calling for the car to bring itself to the front entry right now.”
“I leave our key on my desk at the lab so Musical has access to it if I’m not around,” Born said. “Do you need to swing by and get it?”
Strangelove just shook his head at another security weakness revealed. “That is not a problem,” He assured Born. He patted the big ax with the armor-cutting hook he wore by way of explanation.
* * *
“We have the Foys and Singh still together with Miss Anderson at the Old Hotel,” Sam said. “I’ve never seen such a meeting of high-end players, and now that I know he uses a university car service card I can see the researchers have joined them too. It sure looks like something big is going on.”
“And the Derf,” Bill reminded him. “After checking out the townhouse I think he is far more than just a driver. You don’t need to set up that sort of a secure house in town for the mundane sort of clan menials they hire out to manufacturers and fishing boats.”
“Well, we know he is Red Tree,” Sam said. “That makes sense. The Foy’s and Lee and the Red Tree Mothers are all tight with each other. I think while they are all tied up with each other and safely located we should swing by our storage locker to pick up a couple of boxes of crackers, and take the opportunity to see what is in that storage room next door. Just to make sure they aren’t hiding nuclear missiles between the breakfast cereal and the date tarts, because none of this makes any sense to me.”
“Sure, why not bust in the State Department people’s place too?” Sam asked. “I show them at home. We can bust in all of them, and our own too as a cover. Nobody will have any idea which one was the actual target. It will look like somebody broke in and was just breaking in all the units at random. We’ll look like innocent victims too.”
“And risk somebody stealing my Graham crackers?” Bill said.
“I can buy you more.”
“Do you have your lock picking kit?” Bill asked.
“Yes, and if it’s too difficult I have a laser cutter,” Sam said.
* * *
“Oh crap, the Earth spies are headed to the storage place while everybody seems to be at the Old Hotel,” Kirk said. “They have a head start on us too.”
“Do we care?” Pamela asked. “We don’t have anything incriminating there, and if they mess with the Foys’ or scientists’ stuff, what’s it to us?”
“No, but they may do anything. We don’t know what their mission is. They may find what we are trying to discover and leave traces of their break-in so the storage facility will put serious security in place we won’t be able to penetrate later. Or they may even have incendiaries and torch the place. The really black agencies do crazy things like that. Most food burns well and it’ll cover up anything else there was to discover. Even scaring the Foys off to use a different place could really mess us up, and their agency, that I haven’t even identified, could act on this before ours can.”
“Get a car and let’s catch them in the act. They may have a start on us but we are closer. I know Bill King and I don’t care who he is working for, if I can’t put the fear of the State Department in him I’ll threaten him with my father. He knows not to mess with my old man. I’m not about to let a creep like him mess up my mission.”
* * *
“Master Leonardo, I overheard something of interest,” Atlas said. “The odd couple were running a new disk on the machine and sitting guarding it again. But they received a call on their phones. Born spoke with their patron and indicated they had been called to a meeting as soon as they were done. I heard the name Singh which I looked up. It is a common Human name. And they are instructed to meet at the Old Hotel. Also, there seemed to be some disagreement between them over who was in charge.”
Atlas didn’t repeat the part about not trusting Leonardo. From experience, that would just get his superior angry, and he didn’t process information well when angered. In fact, some of the irritation seemed to stick to the messenger no matter what the source. Dealing with his professor’s prickly personality was always walking a tightrope. Besides, why should Born trust them? He wasn’t a fool as far as Atlas could see.
“Really? Perhaps now would be a good time to pay a visit to their storage area and see what they are doing while they are busy elsewhere. Do you know what room is theirs, for sure?” Leonardo asked.
“I’ve read it off things Born left sitting carelessly on his desk,” Atlas said, “and there is a public contract for the lease.”
“You have the key to the room you rented?” Leonardo asked. “That’s our alibi.”
“Right here,” Atlas said. “Do you have somebody who can defeat locks?”
“Not to worry,” Leonardo said, “I have a master key.”
He walked to the hand tool bench and selected a stout forged wrecker bar. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 20
Sam and Bill arrived to find the parking lot empty. “Perfect, I’m going to open our own room first, and if anybody comes before we’re done, we were just getting some crackers,” Bill said. He opened the door to 114, hung the open lock back in the slide bolt, and stepped in. The lights came on automatically. The pallet of crackers was ripped open at one corner and a box was gone. He opened another box and extracted a tin, breaking the seal and extracting a foil pack of crackers. “We won’t mess our own lock up until we’re ready to head out the door. Which one is the State Department room?”
“I’m not sure,” Sam said. “Room 115 across the hall belongs to the university people by public record. 116 next to us is the Foy’s because it was printed on the food boxes. All of them that concern us should be close by. They were all rented in a narrow time frame. Let’s try 112 on our side.”
Sam turned the lock up to put his probe down the keyhole, and blinked at it. There was a slot with contacts in it, like for a memory card. Bill saw what the trouble was too. “We could waste hours on that. Just cut it.”
Sam darkened his spex and sprayed some black foam on the shiny surfaces around the lock to suppress specular reflections. The lock was cut in less than a minute, but it felt much longer. The foam bubbled and ablated making a dusty odor. When they entered Sam was disappointed and angry. The room was empty. Why even bother to lock an empty room? It seemed like a bad joke.
“I don’t like this,” Bill said. “It might not even be the State people’s room.”
“I don’t like it either, Sam agreed, “but why so concerned?”
“Because it doesn’t make any sense to me,” Bill said, “and that’s dangerous. If I don’t understand one thing, I may have a great deal wrong. I have that itch that says we should probably just get out of here.”
“It could be some other renter not connected to the group at all,” Sam said. “Let’s bust in one to the other side, number 117. I have no trouble with popping them all. If we leave now it may be even more dangerous to come back in the future. The Derf aren’t big on security, but they may add alarms or video after a lock is cut.
“For that matter, what lock?” Sam asked. “It’s in my kit and the black foam is dry by now. I’ll wipe it off and disperse it on the floor. They will have a missing lock, not a visibly cut lock, and they can blame each other. It’s not like anything was stolen. They have quite a few people with access to choose from as suspects.”
Bill nodded. “And it’s as easy to blame a bunch cut opened on a robbery motive. Let’s hit 117 first and then come back to 116. That one at least we know is the Foys, and then the researchers out of curiosity.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam said, when it was open, disappointed again. “This is somebody’s household goods.”
Some of it was obviously furniture by shape, wrapped with protective edges. Boxes were labeled with a large bold marker as kitchen or bedroom. There were larger boxes towards the outside overhead door and one big enough to be some sort of vehicle.
“It’s Human goods though,” Bill said. “Open that one marked keepsakes and pix.”
“Aha! It is the Foys stuff,” Sam said. So, the other room must all be food.”
There were small items packed individually but a whole stack of electronic pictures like you would display and a portfolio of prints. There were a couple of scenes of California and some of the Moon. There was even a formal framed portrait of the couple that seemed to be rendered by hand. “It’s not bad work,” Bill said, tilting it to catch the light. “Is it watercolor or pencil?” he asked.
“Looks like mixed media to me,” Sam said. “Pencil and watercolor, done with a pen or dabbed, maybe even a little blush of pastels there.”
He pointed with a finger.
Bill looked at Sam surprised. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
“What was that?” Bill asked, lifting his head abruptly.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Sam said.
“It could have been a car door slamming,” Bill said. “Let’s step over to our room for a moment,” Bill urged, herding Sam for the door. “If it’s a regular customer come to pick something up they probably will be done in a few minutes. Who empties an entire room late in the day?” Bill eased their door shut quietly and slid enough of the bolt to hold it.
“Why did you bring that?” Sam asked nodding at the drawing.
“I don’t know,” Bill whispered. “I was holding it and on autopilot, intent on getting out. Now hush, if it’s Derf they hear everything.”
“That looks like a rental car to me,” a woman’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Yeah, it’s got the extra antenna and the little radar dome on top. Not many private cars have the fully autonomous systems,” a male voice agreed.
“Crap, it’s Ms. Harvac,” Bill whispered in Sam’s ear.
“It smells funny, like something hot. What the hell is this?” Pamela asked, incensed.
“Somebody took our lock,” Kirk said, stating the obvious.
“You paid the rent didn’t you?” Pamela asked.
“Paid up for a year, so no reason for the management to cut it off,” Kirk assured her.
“Pull the door open for me and stay to the side,” Pamela ordered. There was the unmistakable sound of a pistol slide being racked, then the noise of a door opening.
“Clear,” Pamela announced. “At least they didn’t plant anything on us.”
“I didn’t know you were armed,” Kirk said.
“Aren’t you?” Pamela demanded.
“That’s different,” Kirk said, evading and not explaining why it was different at all. “I’m just upset because I can usually tell if somebody is packing.”
“Good, maybe nobody else could tell either. Let’s see if any of the rest have been broken into,” Pamela said.
Bill grimaced and looked around. There was nothing with which to jam the door and there was nothing but a stubby thumb tab sticking to the inside to move the bolt. The door swung to the outside so no way to wedge it from swinging. The best he could do was to slowly push the bolt all the way in and take a stand against it with the palm of his hand poised on it ready to push. The lock hanging in the hole through the bolt outside ran up against the tab and kept the bolt from going all the way home, but it was engaged in the latch hole.
“This one, 117, is sans-lock too,” Kirk’s voice said, closer.
“The same drill, let me clear it,” Pamela said. There was the rattle of a metal door again but from across the hall. With more stuff to look at and behind cautiously, the ‘clear’ was longer coming in this room.
“This is somebody’s private stuff,” Pamela said. “I’m not going to mess with it. It doesn’t pertain to our business and I know how pissed I’d be if somebody pawed through my stuff.”
“That one box is pulled away from the rest and opened,” Kirk pointed out.
“OK, look in it but don’t touch,” Pamela said, moving back to the door and checking the hall before looking back at Kirk.
“The end here turned away from the door is marked keepsakes and pix,” Kirk reported. “I see framed items, a couple of portfolios, and a bunch of small stuff individually boxed and wrapped.”
“I’d bet this is the Foys’ stuff. They’d be waiting to move into their embassy under construction to unpack it all. Come back out and wipe the bolt handle off.”
“I don’t have any DNA suppressant,” Kirk said. “Some burglar I am.”
“No help for that, at least you can wipe your prints,” Pamela said.
“The lock is hanging open on this one,” Kirk said in front of 114.
Pamela waved him away from in front of the door and then made him move further away from it with emphatic gestures. She moved to one side of the door and leaned over and rapped on it with the muzzle of her gun.
“Yo! Anybody home?”
There was no answer.
Pam held the pistol tight against her chest and reach with the free hand, pushing against the bolt handle with her fingertips.
Inside Bill was braced hard against it so it didn’t budge at all.
Pamela looked at Kirk and pointed at the overhead light. Then made a look gesture with two fingers in front of her eyes pulled away. Lastly, she pointed at the bottom of the door. The doors were fit snug, but not sealed.
Kirk nodded he understood and got against the opposite side of the hall and got down on his hands and knees lowering his head near the floor to look for light coming through the crack from inside. He got back up quickly and nodded yes.
Pamela put her foot against the bolt handle and shoved hard, harder than Bill could keep pressure with just his palm on a short tab. The bolt moved back a centimeter or so and then sprang back like it was on a spring.
“You inside,” Pamela called loudly. “I’m going to shoot the bolt in two if you don’t open up. If you don’t want to get hit you better get away from the door.”
“Don’t shoot,” a slightly muffled voice said. “We’re pushing the door open”
The door wasn’t exactly flung open, but propelled with enough authority to swing all the way back against the wall and rebound a little.
Bill King was standing inside showing her the palms of his hands. They were empty because he’d shoved the incriminating picture under the cracker pallet. Sam Burnstein was standing well back against a skid of something with the corner of the wrap torn open exposing tins. He wasn’t holding his hands up but he looked scared, not aggressive.
“This is our storage room,” Bill told her. “You have no right to intrude.”
“Just stay in it then,” Pamela said, and kept the gun aimed at the floor between them. “You wouldn’t know anything about this other room broken into would you?” she asked with a jerk of her head to indicate the open door.
“That’s not your concern. Have you ever shot that thing, Miss Harvac?” Bill asked with a sneer.
Pamela barely shifted her aim between the two men and fired a round into the skid of Graham crackers. The sound of the hypervelocity round was deafening. It blew chunks of packaging and a brown spray of pulverized crackers out the other side.
“Yeah, recently,” Pamela said back, matching his sneer and attitude.
Sam looked to Bill for leadership. He had more experience. But Sam wasn’t sure he was thinking straight about this lady. She looked like she’d prefer shooting Bill over other solutions, and she wasn’t handling that gun like a beginner.
“Toss your weapons on the floor and kick them over to my assistant,” Pamela said.
“We don’t carry in the field,” Bill lied. “Not unless we face an organized opposition that doesn’t exist on Derfhome. Guns cause more trouble than they help in a general intelligence gathering operation.”
“Funny, I don’t feel that way at the moment,” Pamela said.
“Voice analysis says he’s fuzzy on that,” Kirk said from behind her.
“It’s probably safer not to try to search them,” Pamela decided. “Agents can have conditioning to render veracity software less effective. Don’t trust them.”
This time there wasn’t any doubt, two doors slammed loudly outside.
Pamela stepped back without saying a word and slammed the door shut. Bill was well back from it and she had the lock in the hole before he slammed into the inside. She carefully turned the hasp so the fact the lock was open wasn’t obvious, and left it hanging there. She sprinted to the closest door, the Foy’s room across the hall with Kirk on her heels. They managed to get inside and latch it before the outer door opened.
“It stinks in here,” Leonardo bellowed. That was his normal voice.
“There are cars outside, there must be people in some unit,” Atlas said, worried.
“Not our concern,” Leonardo said, “we have our own business to attend to. This is the one isn’t it, number 115?”
At Atlas’ nod, Leonardo stuck the pointy end of the wrecking bar behind the lock and twisted. It didn’t make that much noise resisting, one loud snap and a couple of metallic jingles of parts falling on the floor. He opened the door and kicked the broken pieces inside. “This is big. They’ll be some time before they can fill this up. How nice of them to have everything neatly labeled and dated.”
He didn’t bother to pull the door closed and Atlas, much timider and worried about getting caught, closed it.
Next door, Pamela and Kirk were looking at each other, listening to the loud-mouthed Engineering Professor. When Atlas closed the door, she put her fingers to her lips and eased the door open. A jerk of her head told Kirk to come on and she walked past 115 with exaggerated care, trying to be silent. Atlas inside heard them pass in the hall, but he was as filled with guilt and as anxious not to be heard as her. He wished Leonardo would lower his voice.
Pamela was barely past the looting Derf before more doors slammed outside. It was too far to go back so she dashed to their own room, number 112, and ducked inside.
“It smells funny,” Eileen Foy said on entering.
“Yep, like hot electronics,” Victor agreed. “There is some black crap on the floor, maybe somebody cleared their unit out and didn’t clean up very well.”
“Our lock is gone,” Eileen said. Vic knew that icy tone of voice.
“Somebody has busted the lock off and is in our room,” Born said behind her. He was trying to speak low, but humans just couldn’t hear that well. Leonardo and Atlas could, and it got suddenly quiet in the scientists’ room.
Vic made hand signs to Eileen and they went to check their room guns drawn.
Behind them, Lee and Jeff looked at each other and lifted their eyebrows. Strangelove just watched, hard to excite. Lee quietly drew a hidden pistol and Jeff reached a hand in each pocket of his vest and extracted tennis ball-sized spheres. When he tossed them in the air they made a loop mapping the area and took up station hovering a little behind each shoulder. They used very quiet boundary layer airflow to stay aloft, with the addition of electronic noise cancellation. It still made a quiet sighing sound to Derf ears.
Born kicked his own door, angry. “Who’s in there?” he demanded. “Show yourself empty handed or we’ll consider you hostile.” That was kind of funny since he wasn’t armed himself, other than a set of nine-centimeter claws and attitude.
“Just a minute, coming,” Leonardo called from within. When he opened the door Leonardo look over the mob crowded in front of the door but looked right at Born ignoring the rest of them and said, “Oh it’s you, good.”
“Good?” Born asked. “There’s nothing good about it you slack eared crook.”
“Born! I’m wounded. We came by to do some measurements in our own unit and saw yours open. We were seeing to your interests,” Leonardo protested.
“Show us your key to your own unit,” Born demanded.
Atlas quickly reached in his pouch, but Jeff’s drones made a low ominous sound and moved forward bracketing Atlas. Lee stepped to one side to get a clean line of fire. Atlas wisely drew his hand out much slower than he reached in.
“See?” Atlas held the key up for all to see.
“Maybe, I don’t have a veracity module for Derf,” Jeff said, “I don’t even know if they make one.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Born assured him. “I have never heard such an unadorned pile of crap since my six-year-old niece got caught with an entire tray of sweet rolls and explained she was taking them to her room for safekeeping. He’s a terrible liar.”
“Wait here until Born and Musical look over their storage for loss or damage,” Lee ordered the trespassers. She looked to Jeff for support and got a nod.
Jeff gestured for Born and Musical to proceed, and they went in avoiding Leonardo by a large margin. They came quickly, even more upset.
“He had the last two disks we brought here sitting on the floor and the shelf tags ripped off. I suppose he thinks we are so stupid we’d never notice they were gone if the labels were gone.”
“Somebody has been in our stuff too,” Vic said, rejoining them. “Eileen is trying to figure out if anything is missing. Our other room still has the lock untouched.”
Down the hall, Pamela sat on the floor and was taking her shoes off. Kirk looked at her like she was crazy, and then understood. He quickly did the same. Their door opened away from the group busy talking. Pamela pushed it open millimeter by millimeter, extra wide so she wouldn’t make a noise brushing against it, and blocking the view. The two of them walked for the exit with exaggerated care carrying their shoes, lifting their feet high and setting them without scuffing.
Then the two security officers Strangelove called came in the door.
“Shit,” Pamela said, and whirled around to find Strangelove looking back at the sound of his officers entering. They had nowhere to run. Pam just froze her guts roiled in fear. She thought she was comfortable with Derf, but had never been in a situation like this confronting them. They were scary big.
Strangelove walked down and inspected Pamela and Kirk, who decided it was pointless to make a run for freedom. He glanced in their open door as he passed.
“Is this your storage unit?” Strangelove asked, looking confused.
“Yes, yes it is,” Pamela replied.
“Aren’t you going to lock it up before you leave?”
“Somebody cut the lock off,” Pamela said. “It was unexpected, so we didn’t bring a replacement lock. There’s nothing in the room anyway, so we’ll leave it open for now.”
“Remarkable,” Strangelove said, checking his pad for the veracity of that statement. Remarkably, it was tagged as true, even if it made no sense at all.
“You came by to visit an empty room and somebody took your lock. Did you have any other purpose for this visit?”
The temptation was to tell him it was none of his business, but Pamela said nothing. She’d rather talk her way out of this and couldn’t think of anything innocuous to claim as a reason for being here true enough to pass the lie detecting software. Standing right next to this big Derf was intimidating, and she never even considered threatening anything that big with the silly little pistol in her pocket.
“It’s complicated,” she volunteered. The software totally agreed that was true, but it wasn’t very enlightening.
“We’re also having some security issues, there were other units broken into,” Strangelove said. “Would you please join us to help us resolve this security breach?”
Strangelove was polite, but a carnivore of his mass and reach could well afford to be polite and one still felt compelled to accept his invitation.
“Alright,” she agreed. Maybe in the process she would luck out and find out what she wanted to know. It reinforced her decision that Kirk seemed to agree.
Strangelove herded them back to the group where they stood to the side from Lee and Jeff with some extra room, looking like they were afraid the pair had some communicable disease.
“My extra security is here, and these Humans were trying to sneak out,” Strangelove leaned between Lee and Jeff and informed them. “This is all getting very complicated. Excuse me, I’m going to brief my officers.”
Born and Musical were explaining their work relationship with Leonardo to Lee and Jeff, and why it would be better for their dealings at the university to allow him to get away with this invasion without a public fuss.
“We have too much invested in the relationship with his department, our equipment is housed in their building and we use them for support in fabrication,” Born said. “He gets to share the equipment so he has his own reasons to keep his mouth shut. The Leader over all of us, you’d call him a dean, already knows Leonardo is – well Derf terms don’t translate well. You’d call him a flaming jackass I think. Since Bacon is on the top side of the relationship as Leader, he doesn’t get the grief from him that his peers experience. No matter how disagreeable he is, he does get results in his department.”
“I get results because I’m disagreeable,” Leonardo grumbled. “It isn’t a social club.”
“At least we aren’t his students,” Musical said. “I’m repelled at his attitude, and yet I’m afraid he may be right about it producing results.”
Vic noticed the bit about his students made Atlas very uncomfortable.
“That’s you,” Victor told Born and Musical. Our storage was busted into too. I’m not sure I want to be as forgiving. Just out of curiosity, what would happen to us if we just shot him out of hand for trespass and attempted theft?”
Atlas looked even more upset, figuring he’d be included if Leonardo was shot.
“Here? Probably nothing,” Born said. “He isn’t clan Derf and we aren’t on clan territory. No Mother would claim an interest. Trade towns don’t have law, they have customs. People would very much disapprove if they knew he was subdued, and you stood and talked it over, then shot him anyway. It would have social consequences. You’d lose business and friends. It just isn’t done like that.”
“I’m starting to think Derf are a lot easier going than Humans,” Vic said.
Born’s eyes got bigger and he opened his mouth and shut it – firmly.
“Go ahead and say it,” Vic said.
“Human’s are pushy,” Musical said. “Born is too polite to say it. Badgers are closer to Humans that way than Derf, so I understand.”
“I wonder if the Humans living here have adapted to Derf ways,” Vic said, “because if they are following gentle Derf custom, instead of harsh Human law, I think you’d see a lot less thieving trespassers shot dead as seems to be the case here. I’ll admit, I’m of conflicted feelings about that.”
Chapter 21
Down the hall, Strangelove was having a quiet conference with his reinforcements.
“So we found these two Humans and two Derf in the facility separately. The Derf are known, but we have to ascertain who these Humans are and why they are here. The woman seems to be his superior and was not quickly forthcoming. She did seem a little intimidated, while the Derf was not at all and has been aggressive with us.”
The senior of his two armored up security looked thoughtful. “Leader Strangelove, how many vehicles did the rest of you bring here?”
“Two Derf, one Badger, and four humans in just one vehicle, and it was snug.”
“There were four cars parked outside when we arrived,” the soldier said.
“Ohhh… Good man,” Strangelove said. “Go down the hall end to end and thermal scan every unit and listen carefully.”
The soldiers nodded and went off to do it.
Strangelove rejoined the back of the group at the scientist’s door and got a hard, questioning look from Jeff.
“Extra car outside. Guards scanning the building for extra people,” Strangelove keyed in his pad and showed it to Jeff. Lee saw the action and took a peek too. Both the Humans nodded and let the professions take care of it. The discussion here with the unrepentant Derf and his sidekick was still interesting.
“What exactly do you have in your storage room here?” Musical demanded. You still have lots of open room in your facility without needing rental space outside town.”
“That’s really none of your business,” Leonardo said.
“I bet you don’t have a thing in it,” Musical said. “You just rented it as a ploy to get easy access to the gate and building so you could snoop and steal our stuff.”
“What number is your unit?” Vic demanded. “Are you next to ours where you could cut through the wall and gain access?”
“We don’t even know who you are, much less that you were renting here,” Leonardo told Vic. “It’s not like anybody is making introductions like civil people.”
“Oh sure, we always engage burglars with polite formalities. So, you were targeting just us,” Musical said, and took an aggressive step toward the two Derf. It was physically ridiculous, but he just radiated hostility enough to alarm the Derf.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Vic said. “Do I have to take that key away from you and try it until I find a fit?” Vic wasn’t that much bigger than Musical, but for some reason, he seemed a much bigger danger.
“Number 119” Atlas volunteered. He was holding the key and didn’t want to fight these people. He didn’t understand why Leonardo had to continue to be a hard guy when they were outnumbered and outgunned. Sometimes you need to make nice-nice.
“So, you are next to us,” Vic said, eyes narrowing.
“It’s what the business assigned us,” Leonardo protested. “It was probably just the next open unit. We all rented about the same time. I know Miss Moneybags Anderson and her researchers, but I still don’t know who you are sir.”
“I’m nobody, but my wife is Lady Eileen Foy, Voice and peer to the Sovereign of Central and ambassador to Red Tree. By their invitation, Protectorate of the Derfhome star system. Her mission is under Red Tree’s protection on-planet. Strangelove and his men are the current providers of that protection,” Vic said, hooking a thumb at the Derf.
“Oh… ” The last was probably what gave Leonardo pause. He knew Red Tree.
“I’ll check it out,” Strangelove said. He didn’t bother to demand the key. He walked over to room 119 and inserted the bottom hook of his ax behind the lock and lifted. The snap of the hasp breaking was a single snapping sound and he pulled the door open.
“It is empty,” Strangelove reported, surprised. “I thought they’d have something in it for the sake of appearances.”
Atlas was supposed to put something in the unit, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. He was sure he’d hear about that from Leonardo.
“He’d have to care what anybody thought to bother,” Musical said, still ticked.
The soldiers came up to Strangelove and said something too low for the Humans to hear. Strangelove looked surprised and pointed across at 114 behind them. “Somebody is in there,” he informed the group. They can’t tell if it is Human or Derf, there isn’t a shape they can image, just the diffuse body heat.”
“You know something,” Lee said, examining Pamela’s expression.
Pamela didn’t deny it but didn’t volunteer anything.
“Who… or what is in there?” Lee asked directly.
“Ask them if you want,” Pamela invited, not helpful at all.
“If you know, does that mean you have a key?” Lee asked.
“No, I don’t have a key and never have,” Pamela said, and the software verified it.
“Want to do that trick again?” Lee asked Strangelove, and made a prying motion.
The lock hasp was turned to close, making it look locked from a distance, but open on closer examination. Strangelove looked back at everyone and held the open lock up for them to see, bewildered.
Bill and Sam were cowering behind the skid of crackers. When Strangelove called them out they showed their hands and came out warily.
“Don’t shoot,” Bill said. “We were locked in there by that woman,” he said pointing at Pamela.
“Good for you. Step out in the hall please.”
Strangelove pointed at his soldiers and raised a single digit and motioned one of them to check the room out.
“Odd, that I didn’t hear you beating on the door demanding to be rescued if they locked you in there. You must have heard people out here in the hall,” Strangelove said.
“You all seemed to have a lot of loud trouble of your own.”
Bill pointed out. “We thought we might be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.”
“You Humans must lie awake at night inventing these sayings,” Strangelove said. “Who are you, and why would the lady lock you up?”
Leonardo and Atlas crowded the door to see these new people but didn’t push it to come out in the hall.
“We’re lawyers,” Bill said, “Earth lawyers.”
“Given my experience, that’s reason enough to lock them back up,” Lee said.
“You have no idea,” Pamela said. “I had to work with the older one there for a couple of years and he’s completely untrustworthy and amoral,” she accused.
“Are you lawyers too?” Lee asked, looking at Pamela and Kirk suspiciously.
“No, I worked with him back when I worked at the USNA State Department,” Pamela said, “but my dad is a businessman and Kirk and I are here to establish a honey industry on Derfhome.”
“My verification software is shouting these are incomplete ambiguous statements,” Jeff said. “I’d expect them to be misleading and self-serving.”
“No kidding? You needed software to figure that out?” Lee asked.
“I have some problems with socialization,” Jeff admitted. “You should have met me a hundred years ago. I’m much better, even if I’m still learning.”
Pamela was bug-eyed at his claimed age. Jeff looked like he might be pushing thirty by Earth standards. That meant he was one of those she’d never knowingly met.
“Sir,” one of the Red Tree soldiers called to Strangelove, “nothing in here but one hell of a lot of Graham crackers, and the weirdest thing, somebody shot a hole through the whole skid of them.”
He was sampling from a pack of them.
“Maybe they do have some actual business here,” Strangelove decided. “It’s much less strange than renting a unit and leaving it to sit empty.”
“They’re not business people,” Pamela objected. “They wouldn’t know how to run a hot dog stand without screwing it up. They’re intelligence agents if you couldn’t figure that out,” Pamela said, “but don’t assume too much actual intelligence is involved.”
“You don’t out your own people,” Bill said angrily. “You can be criminally charged for such a revelation back home.”
“You aren’t my people,” Pamela said, “and I was never officially told where you went after State. I just know you’re the kind of slimeball who’d gravitate to that sort of work. We had an office party to celebrate and bought a funny cake when you disappeared.”
“Oh!” Strangelove said, with sudden realization, “you must be the replacements for the pair who tried to board Miss Anderson’s ship a few weeks ago.”
“We’ve had our law offices here almost two years,” Bill said. “We have both Derf and Humans we’ve advised on Earth Law. We can tell you who to check with to confirm that. We have no idea what happened with any ship recently.”
“Nice cover,” Pamela said.
“Not as sweet as running a honey company,” Sam sneered. “Are you conspiring with the Foys in this food business? Are you storing your honey here with them?”
“What are you talking about?” Pamela asked, confused.
“We have food in the other storage room,” Vic said. “Obviously he knows. That means he has been spying on us.”
Vic looked back and forth between Leonardo and Bill. “Now I have no idea who busted in.”
From the look on his face, he might shoot both of them to make sure.
Bill looked horrified that he’d revealed too much.
“Oh my God, they’re both spies and competitors,” Lee said, finally figuring it out.
“But, they’re from the same Earth nation,” Strangelove said, confused.
“Now I admit, I don’t know from which intelligence agency,” Pamela said, “but they have the stink of spies all over them. It could be any of a dozen law enforcement agencies under the USNA or one of their military intelligence agencies.”
“And you are from the State Department and have no business doing any intelligence function,” Bill said.
“If you check, I’m on sabbatical and doing some work for my dad,” Pamela said.
“As if he’d bother with beekeeping,” Bill said. “If it isn’t a billion-dollar industry he’d look down his nose at it like running a lemonade stand.”
“But you do acknowledge knowing her?” Lee asked.
“Only too well, I used to work in State and left to get away from the likes of her.”
“We get that you two find yourselves in – intense dislike,” Strangelove said, “but I bet you haven’t priced a liter of honey here or examined how much we import if you think this would be an insignificant business.”
Eileen rejoined Vic and told him, “If anything is missing it’ll take a full inventory to find it. Just the one box is open, and it looks full.”
“May one ask what happened to these other agents?” Pamela wondered.
“They tried to board Miss Anderson’s ship while my boss Champion Garrett was on board personally guarding it. They were undoubtedly intent on stealing the New Japan software. They were working as techies mounting Fargone missiles. If they were stealing any secrets from them they were already on the inside. That’s Fargone’s concern to discover if they got anything, not ours.”
Kirk who’d been keeping quiet, asked, “Did he kill them?”
“And make a mess in Miss Lee’s ship?” Strangelove asked, “of course not. We wouldn’t honor them with being that credible a threat. The Mothers have a peculiar sense of humor. After sucking them dry they passed them off to Sol system allies, who dressed them up in elaborate mid-twentieth century uniforms with all the proper period stuff in their pockets and snuck them back on the WPS in Earth orbit. They wanted to drop them on Australia but that was too difficult to pull off.”
“It still must have cost a fortune and a great deal of trouble to get them to LEO,” Kirk said. “Are you going to do something similar with… these two?”
The hesitation made Lee wonder if he thought that might be his fate too.
“We may have a different sense of humor,” Strangelove said, “but surely you know that most jokes are funny once and lack any power repeated. To do the same thing again would be tiresome.”
Leonardo decided the focus was no longer on them, but instead of just trying to walk away he acted with his usual bluster.
“None of this is our concern and my assistant and I are out of here. Make way,” he demanded of the people blocking the door and made a threatening gesture with the pry bar he carried.
Vic stepped to the side to shield Eileen, his hand was going to his pistol again. Strangelove was pulling his ax and Lee had her pistol out still pointing at the floor, but she tensed and shifted her weight in a way that said that might not last. Everybody had a weapon in hand eyes scanning because it wasn’t at all clear Leonardo was the only threat. There was a complex set of opposing interests in play here.
Jeff really didn’t want the stupid Derf shot by everyone he was threatening. There wasn’t a person here it was safe to bluff and he was about to die. Once the shooting started it might not stop with Leonardo. The only way to defuse it was for Jeff to shoot him first.
The drone over Jeff’s left shoulder had the best shot and activated the Air Taser. The guide beams that ionized the air channels for the discharge were almost invisible even in the darkest night, but the discharge itself was a loud >SNAP< and a feathery fractal of lightning that etched itself on the retina.
Leonard jerked arms flung wide and the big pry bar went flying, missing everybody. He flopped on his back inside the door with a patch of chest fur smoking. The stink of burnt fur was immediate and nasty.
“Oh dear gods, you killed him!” Atlas wailed.
Everybody stepped back away from their neighbors and it was an armed circle, even Bill and Sam producing the weapons Pamela had suspected. Everyone’s eyes were shifting back and forth, all of them balanced on a knife-edge from violence, ready to shoot if a gun was pointed at them.
“He is not dead,” Jeff shouted, and hoped it was true. He’d jacked the power up to about three times what a human could stand, to about where it started damaging badly shielded electronics. He’d been rushed and guessed.
On the floor, Leonardo shook his head back and forth and said, “Owieee.”
“I’ve always been told Tasers just irritate Derf,” Strangelove said.
“It’s an Air Taser,” Jeff said. “a different thing entirely. It’ll stop ground cars. If you would all just slowly put your guns away, we can avoid any further demonstration. My bots will fire automatically on anyone who points a weapon at me.”
“Why should I?” Bill demanded. “I don’t think you can get all of us. What do I have to lose? We know now that you disappeared another pair of agents. We could be next.”
“I think Strangelove is a bigger danger to us than Singh,” Pamela said.
“Us? There is no us. I don’t trust you either,” Bill said.
Kirk disagreed with Pamela. He liked what Strangelove had been saying before Leonardo got stupid. Rather than argue with her, he asked, “So what will you do?”
“About what?” Strangelove asked, confused by all the byplay.
“About these two,” Kirk said, indicating Bill and Sam, but not Pam or himself.
“Supposing you are right, since you can’t even name their agency, and they are some sort of spies, it’s a bit different here,” Strangelove said.
“How so?” Kirk asked, confused.
“I can’t really see where I’m obligated to do anything. None of you Earthies have broken into anybody’s private property like the fellows in Lee’s ship, or stolen anything like these two,” Strangelove said, waving a lower arm at Atlas and Leonardo. “That’s something the Mothers’ law addresses and town custom covers too. Passive intelligence gathering is not at all like being active saboteurs. I refuse to speculate what you may have done if we hadn’t arrived.”
Bill held his breath, waiting to see if Victor would object the lawyers might have broken into their unit instead of Leonardo, but he frowned and stayed silent.
“It’s not like we have a specific law against spies. The law is whatever the Mothers say it is, and I don’t remember them giving any direction at all, telling me to do anything about spies. Now if I considered you an imminent danger, I could take the initiative to do something and justify it to the Mothers after the fact. That, as you might expect has its own dangers if they disapprove.”
Kirk nodded understanding.
“On the other hand, I could ask the Mothers for direction, which displays a certain weakness and indecisiveness they don’t usually appreciate in their officers. Asking the Mothers outright to declare a law is fraught with hazard too. Our previous Champion declared himself personal Champion to Lee Anderson and ordered the Mothers to call her clan kin by their law or he’d put the ax to them and overturn the administration to a new set of Mothers. I don’t start to think I could carry that off.”
“I had no idea you could do that,” Kirk said, shaken.
“It’s rare but has solid precedent,” Strangelove said. “Assassination is a tradition in Derf politics. We are different. We settle deadlocks by trial by combat and until dealing with Man we always warred until one side was annihilated. The Mothers in their wisdom decided we had to adjust to dealing with you differently than other Derf.
“So, if the scientists or your other Humans have some complaint with you that is their business, but I would be happy if you and your partner bring cheaper and more abundant honey to Derfhome. I certainly can’t afford it as star-goods. If as they intimated, you also passively gather information for someone, that’s fine too. With better information, maybe your masters won’t act as stupidly as they have in the past.”
Kirk grimaced struck by the truth of that.
“If these two lawyers are spies, I am disposed to grant them the same freedom to observe and report. Why would I want to dispose of them or chase them off? They are such a weak threat they get locked in their own storage room by amateurs. I can keep a watch on them now that I know who they are, and you too for that matter. If they are replaced it might be by somebody much more competent and harder to identify.”
“You do realize, if you leak the fact you suspect us as spies we’ll be yanked right back home,” Bill said.
“They won’t hear it from me,” Strangelove promised.
Bill did a slow turn of the head and regarded Pamela, but not kindly.
“What, you really think I’ll interfere in your operations? Don’t mess with us and we won’t mess with you. It’s that simple,” Pamela told him.
“On the other hand, I’d be open to a quiet back-channel agreement if you really want to feed accurate information to my government,” Pamela told Strangelove.
“I believe you should be directing that offer to the Foys or Miss Anderson,” Strangelove said. “They are spox for their governments. I’m not a proper conduit. It’s not even really my job to pass things on to the Mothers.”
“I’m a Voice also, and interested in what you might have to say,” Jeff said, “though I’d weigh it carefully and with skepticism. You may believe what you say but be mislead by your superiors to say it as a ploy.”
“A back-channel should flow both ways,” Pamela pointed out.
“Oh, she wants to trade now,” Eileen said.
“Yes, isn’t that how these things normally work?” Pamela asked.
“Well with the other spies we drugged them up and ran brain scans on them until we had them sucked pretty dry, but that probably doesn’t appeal much,” Eileen said.
“Yeah, I’d take a pass on that,” Pamela said, worried.
“I have no idea what you might want,” Eileen said. “Name something on your shopping list and I’ll see if I can supply it. Heather gives us a lot of discretion and we don’t have classifications like secret and top secret. We’re mostly expected to use our own common sense about what should be kept to ourselves.”
“This is all fascinating, but what about us?” Leonardo interrupted from the floor, scared to get up but still impatient.
“What about you?” Strangelove asked back. “Why are you still here? The scientists said they don’t want to make a fuss about it even though you are thieves and liars. You waved a tool threatening the wrong people. You’re lucky to be breathing. You should be happy if they don’t tell the world what scum you are. Get out of here before Singh demonstrates the next power level of that drone on your big furry butt.”
Leonardo and Atlas took that for dismissal and headed for the door.
“Perhaps we could trade privately,” Pamela suggested and looked at Bill and Sam.
“Oh, give them a freebie and let them listen in,” Eileen said.
Pamela didn’t like sharing but had little choice.
“We’d very much like to know why you are collecting such an increased range of biological specimens off Earth. Combine that with storing up food here, and we worry you might have plans to hit Earth so hard there won’t be anything left to collect.”
“I have no idea,” Eileen said. “We got orders to buy long-term storable food and did that, but nobody told us why. The second question I have no idea at all.”
“You’re in luck,” Jeff said. “I’m one of the three who formulate these policies.”
Pamela looked confused and a little skeptical. “Is Central a triumvirate then?”
“My Lady April and I have an association with her that precedes Heather founding Central,” Jeff assured her. “We are full partners in some business interests, yet each of us still has individual companies and associations the others don’t.”
“Where does one end, and the other start? Doesn’t it get confusing?” Pamela asked.
“Fortunately, we get along really well and can discuss things and arrive at a consensus,” Jeff said. “Then after my ladies inform me of our consensus, I discharge it to the best of my ability, and everybody is happy.”
Vic was snorting and laughing. “That’s what I always suspected,” he told Jeff.
“Such is the natural order of things, I’m starting to see,” Jeff said.
“Ok, then why are you guys expanding your biological library?” Pamela asked.
“You and the Chinese are both making thoroughly dishonest accusations against each other and approaching a line that would trigger war as closely as you can. One mistake or miscalculation will leave the northern hemisphere in such horrible shape it will be difficult to gather a wider sampling of specimens, so we are getting them while it is relatively easy.”
“They think playing games with spy planes and such is just the normal posturing that has been going on forever, and it’s contained by unspoken rules,” Pamela said, “but they worry you could be planning an extinction level event.”
“They’re fools,” Jeff said. “You do realize, if we wanted to precipitate a war between you, all we would have to do is shoot one or the other of these idiots playing chicken along one of your borders and the other side would have to react to it?
“They don’t worry about the Chinese who do threaten them, and then they do worry about us when we don’t threaten them.”
Jeff made a show of turning his palms up and looking at each like he was comparing them with a bewildered expression. “Since they seem stuck in reverse thinking mode, should we then threaten them to assure them of our good intentions?” Jeff asked.
“It does sound insane when you describe it like that,” Pamela admitted.
“What’s insane is speaking freely like this,” Bill said. “It has no value.”
“Do you really think he could anticipate all the events of the day and have prepared answers that can pass muster with our software?” Pamela asked.
“I know I couldn’t,” Bill granted, “but when you look at this guy it’s easy to forget he is somewhere around a hundred and thirty to forty years old and has so much life experience you are like a child to him.”
“No, I don’t believe he’s any sort of super-human,” Pamela protested. “He has the same cultural tools to work with we do. Experience can give you a polish on skills but it isn’t some limitless magic that keeps growing until you are god-like.”
“You also have no idea what abilities he has from gene editing,” Bill said.
Jeff looked surprised, and then it shifted to amused. “People usually make the opposite claim that our genetic modifications drive us crazy. They cite the Wiz Kids in Germany that were attempts at creating prodigies. They did display early development, but almost all of them ended up institutionalized once they hit adolescence. It was a pretty sad story.
“The fellow who developed the modifications I carry found markers for some mental attributes like perfect pitch and a variation on extreme memory. In every case, he found that applying the treatment had undesirable side effects. It changed the person’s personality, and never for the better.”
“You don’t have any mods for mental abilities?” Bill demanded. That direct of a question would be very hard to evade analysis by veracity software.
“I only need about half the sleep you do. If you consider that mod a mental alteration, then yes, but otherwise nothing at all. I’ve been advised by my ladies that my personality is different enough and they don’t wish to see all the work they have put into molding it wasted by chasing talents of dubious advantage.”
“What about her second question?” Bill asked, still suspicious.
“The food?” Jeff asked.
Bill nodded yes.
“If you do manage to blow yourselves back a couple of centuries worth of civilization, there would be little reason to stay in the solar system. We wish to be able to evacuate Central and any of the Home habitats that wish to come along,” Jeff said.
“Nobody has that much transport,” Bill objected.
“We do,” Jeff said.
“There’s thirty-five hundred on Home alone,” Bill said. “How many round trips are needed in how many vessels to bring just the original hab here, much less the sisters?”
“It’s closer to forty-five hundred, with the zero-g satellite housing, if everybody came along. The other two are a bit bigger. We could transport just the people without much in the way of their stuff by putting temporary decking in some large mining vessels we have. But, truth is, we’d grab the whole thing and bring it at one go,” Jeff said, making a grab and jerk motion with his hand.
Bill’s mouth was hanging open. “Software be damned, I believe you because it is too outrageous a claim to try to pass off as a lie.”
More to the point he holstered his pistol.
“Big lies are easier than little ones,” Jeff said. “At least that’s what I’ve seen dealing with the Earth journalists.”
“You sold me. Don’t start undoing it.”
“I suppose my ladies would say the same thing,” Jeff admitted. “I know it hurts you more than me if you don’t believe. So I guess that wasn’t very kind of me, I apologize.”
“People don’t really do apologies in this business,” Sam, usually quiet, said.
“It’s not a part of some folks’ life at all,” Pamela said.
“Yes, we get that you loathe him, and vice versa. It’s a bit tiresome,” Sam said.
“Then you’ll pass our thinking along to Earth?” Jeff asked.
“No way!” Bill said. “I said I believe you. My supervisors could never believe such a claim. Besides, they would be horrified. You don’t sit around with the enemy and trade information. You couldn’t possibly trust anything you got that way. I’d be ruining my own credibility with them thoroughly.”
Pamela made a funny little noise but managed to not say anything to that.
“I shall pass it along to my superiors,” Pamela said. “I trust they can judge it for themselves.”
“That would be your father?” Sam asked innocently.
“My superiors at the State Department,” Pamela said. “I left on quite good terms and have no doubt they would welcome reports from the field. I hope to take another turn back at the department after I have a bit more experience and enough years to be considered for a higher-ranking post.”
Bill just rolled his eyes.
“If I understand how your system works correctly, that inside routing may affect policy more than an intelligence report anyhow,” Jeff said. “We have former Earth intelligence agents in our employ and they often try to explain how things work. I must say, they would disagree with the idea there can be no frank exchange. One fellow has told me repeatedly that the only thing that keeps the whole mess from grinding to a stop is cross system networking.”
“And has he ever passed anything along you could be sure was effective?” Bill asked.
“Once upon a time he sent a message to China for me that I indeed did intend to nuke the entire district in which Beijing resides off the map if they didn’t back off. I don’t think it was a coincidence they had a coup and replaced the leadership immediately after.
“I’d just blown their main spaceport off the map, which I suspect gave the threat some credibility. I’d have felt really bad to do that to the Forbidden City and all the historical artifacts, but I would have,” Jeff said.
“If you ever have such a direct warning, that I’d pass it along,” Bill promised.
“Thank you, that’s sufficient,” Jeff said. When he looked around everybody had put their weapons away while they were talking. The stand-off was defused.
“I think we are done here. Do you have the security situation settled to your liking?” Jeff asked Strangelove.
“I’m leaving a man here tonight and installing both surveillance and anti-intrusion systems,” Strangelove said. “The Derf are much less restrained about using active defenses than Humans.”
“Will you have your man keep an eye on our rooms too?” Eileen requested. “We’ll get back in the morning with a new lock.”
“No need. My man will put a new lock on the scientist’s room, and deliver keys to both of you tomorrow.”
Strangelove looked thoughtful. “It would be no particular burden to do the same for you, if you’d trust me not to keep copies of the key,” he told Pamela. It was interesting that he didn’t make the same offer to the lawyers.
“That’s kind of you, but the need for the room has passed, and I believe we’ll just let the rent run out and lapse now.”
Strangelove got an amused smile and there were significant looks all around.
“I’d like to go back to the hotel then,” Jeff requested of Strangelove, “and I’d like to talk to you two tomorrow,” he told Born and Musical.
“Are we still riding with you?” Born asked Jeff.
“Of course, if it’s closer to drop you along the way, just tell Strangelove.”
Chapter 22
“I’m glad we got that sorted out in time,” Jeff said in the car. “If we let that idiot from the university get any details of a superior star-drive, he’d sell them off as fast as he could. I wouldn’t even trust him to get a decent price.”
“Not all Derf are like that,” Strangelove said, embarrassed.
“I hadn’t formed that opinion,” Jeff assured him. “I assume any race capable of building a civilization will have some outliers who buck the standards of their society. Actually, I think Humans are probably worse that way.”
Strangelove tactfully didn’t agree.
“The food the Foys are storing… does that mean you’d send refugees here if things got bad in the solar system?” Lee asked.
“We might ask to do that,” Jeff said, “or we might take the food to them. We didn’t want to buy it on Earth for fear it would be taken as a signal of our intent. The whole thing is so complicated we should sit and have a long talk about it, but not tonight.”
“What other operations do you have in motion here?” Lee asked.
“Nothing else and I intended to tell you about the food before I left.”
Lee considered that silently a moment. Jeff refused to try to convince her if she didn’t believe him.
“Well, crap…” Lee suddenly muttered.
“Did we forget something?” Strangelove asked, worried.
“No, it’s that I just now realized we should soon have a much better star drive and I spent a fortune building a specialized ship that will be obsolete far too fast.”
“Chances are, we can retrofit a new drive for you,” Jeff said. “You may have more Delta-V than you need, but that’s not exactly a bad thing.”
“That makes me feel a little better,” Lee said, “but I could have probably fit a beam weapon and anti-missile missiles in the hull with a better drive.”
Jeff sighed. “In for a penny, in for a pound. We’ll show you how to make armed jump drones that serve the same purposes better,” he promised.
“I’ve read that expression in old books, and still don’t understand it,” Lee said. “It doesn’t make any more sense than, ‘In for a centum, in for a kilogram.’ would,” Lee insisted. “It’s mixing units of money and mass.”
She had no idea why Jeff laughed.
Lee turned her attention to Born. “I understand why you didn’t want to burn Leonardo, it just rankles me to let him get away with it.”
“I won’t say anything publicly, but you better believe I’ll have a private word with Leader Bacon,” Born said.
“Will he do something about it?” Lee asked.
“Probably not the way you mean,” Born said. “Leonardo gets included in official events, but nobody is going to include him in social things. That’s hardly anything new. You can see for yourself the way he acts. I doubt he is going to improve.”
“I’d see that as a negative I’d have to correct,” Lee said. “I can’t imagine his being a social outcast doesn’t hurt the university. With Humans, a lot of professional contacts are made outside the place of business. People form bonds at charity events and playing sports together. They get invited to play golf or handball.”
“Now that’s interesting,” Born said. “We may share a meal that falls in our work period. But if Bacon asked me to go fishing with him, I’d be surprised and wonder why.”
“Bacon is your superior, right?” Jeff asked Born.
“Very much so, he has significantly more power and responsibility than a dean at a Human university. I was thrilled to be asked to have lunch with him once.”
“The sort of socialization Lee is talking about happens between peers and near-peers,” Jeff said. “If your boss asked you to play a game of handball with him on Home it would be a sure sign he was going to offer you a significant promotion. One to a level reporting directly to him at a minimum. Otherwise, he’d have somebody at a lower level make the offer to you. If you wondered who the most favored person in the department is, being groomed to move up, it would be the person invited to the big boss’ country club, or invited to his gym to work out together.”
“Now see… that doesn’t connect emotionally for me,” Born admitted, “even aside from the whole weird Human thing about exercise as recreation.”
“That doesn’t make social sense to me either, because Derf don’t do things that way, but it explains Human behavior I didn’t understand before,” Strangelove said.
“But it makes perfect sense to me,” Musical said. “Now let me ask you a question. How would it be regarded if the underling tried to initiate such an intimate event?”
“Whoa! Super pushy and above his station,” Jeff said. “He’d either be brought right along in admiration of his audacity or tossed out on his ear. It would be a risky gambit.”
“The same for Badgers,” Musical said. “You wait for the boss to take your hand walking along. You don’t initiate it.”
“Well, that’s one social faux pas I got away with,” Lee told Musical. “I took your boss, Talker’s hand and he accepted it.”
Musical looked up sharply. “Lee, that’s very different. He said you befriended him. I know Badgers who are married and have not befriended each other.”
“Then that’s a story I’d like to hear,” Jeff said.
“Maybe later,” Lee allowed, embarrassed.
They dropped off Born and Musical. That made it a lot more comfortable as far as the room in the cramped car. It also opened it up to speak more freely.
“What do you think of my guys?” Lee asked Jeff.
“They display every sign of being very intelligent, and all the stereotypes of distracted naïve academics. I understand that with Born, since he comes from a university, but it surprises me Musical is that way since he is a spacer and a tech. Spacers are usually very practical and aware of realities.”
“He probably is,” Lee said, “dealing in his own society with other Badgers. Here he has no clue what the social norms are, and looks to Born to take the lead. It would be better if they had reversed backgrounds, but I was lucky to get these two from a very short list of candidates with the required skills, twice lucky, because they seem able to work together despite being so different. I had to tell them what direction to take a project without having the math to adequately describe it to them. If I hadn’t had hours of video recordings to verify there was something worth researching, they would have walked away, sure I was a raving lunatic.”
“Raving lunatics can be right too,” Eileen said.
“Indeed, sanity can be fragile and shattered by the unexpected,” Jeff said. “A little crazy lets you yield instead of break when reality ambushes you.”
“Like the White Queen,” Vic said.
“Exactly,” Jeff agreed.
“That isn’t Heather is it?” Lee asked, confused.
“No,” Vic said, laughing. “It’s a literary reference to a fictitious character.
“Oh, I haven’t read much fiction. But I’ve seen quite a few really old videos.”
“I’ll find a copy and send it to your pad,” Vic promised.
“Sometimes I feel I’m as isolated from Human things as the Derf and Badgers,” Lee said. “You absorbed all these trivia growing up and I’ll never catch up.”
“With life-extension, you will if you want,” Jeff said, “or decide it’s really not that important, look to the future, and just study a very limited view of history.”
“No, there’s too much to learn from it to ignore it,” Lee said. “Every time I read about a new period it’s the same thing. They messed up so often and so spectacularly. There’s no point in repeating the same errors if I can learn from their mistakes.”
“I hope you can do that,” Jeff said, looking somber. “It would make you a better ally. We’ve had local defense agreements between Home and Central, even though we have very different sorts of governments, because Earth is so close and threatening to both of us. It’s scary to have an even closer relationship with yet another kind of government with the additional difference of another species and your own pacts with the Badgers and Bills added in. It gets increasingly complex.”
“When we went off on a voyage of exploration with The Little Fleet, I was completely ignorant of your history with Earth and North America in particular,” Lee said. “We had mostly the commercial fraction of the English web as a source. I had no idea then how biased it was. If I’d had any idea how badly they acted toward Home and Central, it wouldn’t have been such a shock when they turned us away and didn’t want to register our claims.
“But I don’t think the Mothers are that different. There are three Mothers. You might as well say they rule as queens, though they have a rigid ranking. Your Heather is an absolute sovereign, but what you are telling me is that you and April advise her heavily. If she declared you co-rulers would it change all that much?” Lee asked.
“Dear God, yes. It would complicate everything. Please don’t suggest that to her,” Jeff begged. “Humans are subtly different. I don’t think a real triumvirate would work nearly as well as what we have now. If we were seen as anywhere near equal there would be all sorts of lobbying to try to influence each of us against the others. It would dilute Heather’s authority and waste our time. Humans also have different sexual politics the Mothers don’t have to deal with. For Derf, the Mothers are firmly ensconced as authority figures, but there are lots of Earth factions that disdain female rulers. They would try to approach me and ignore my ladies. That could be a fatal error, dealing with them. There have been a lot of triumvirates on Earth, from ancient China to modern republics and very few of them were as equal in reality as they publicly presented themselves.
“OK, that doesn’t surprise me,” Lee said. “The Mothers are ranked by seniority. Still, it’s pretty neat we have a tribal matriarchy, and a monarchy able to agree and be allies.”
“Heather gets along just fine with Home too, which is a rather starkly simple democracy, but you are a signatory to the earlier treaty, and since it is you developing a new drive, you will be more important to this new expansion of our agreement than the Mothers,” Jeff said.
“But I’m just an individual,” Lee protested, “a facilitator.”
“Modesty is a luxury you are going to have to deny yourself,” Jeff said, bluntly. “I’ve seen you give orders and dictate just as absolutely as Heather. You went straight into command mode when you had to inform your researchers they would have security oversight imposed. You treat directly with sovereigns, hold lands, direct fleets, and build ships. You bind the Mothers by your word.
“I have no doubt that somewhere along the line you are going to dictate terms to races or worlds that we will end up having to support as your allies. I want you to be fully aware when you do that. Don’t minimize this in your mind or you may fail to see the import of your actions.”
“I hear you,” Lee acknowledged, “and I’ll own that. But I’m no queen with sworn subjects like your Heather. It leaves me not knowing what to call myself.”
“I’m not sure either,” Jeff admitted. “Merchant Prince? Is there such a thing as a Merchant Princess? You haven’t established a house, but what you are doing reminds me of when merchant families on Earth sent out ships to foreign lands and other cultures. In any case, you wield power for good or bad for all of us. Your chop on our treaty is just as the Mothers’ voice, so what else it represents will be determined in our future by what you do more than what you are right now.”
The Old Hotel was in sight.
“That’s entirely sufficient,” Lee said. “I’m not certain I aspire to be more than a Voice and an explorer. Whatever I am, do you want to have breakfast with me in the morning and we can talk some more?”
“Yes, that would please me, Milady.”
Eileen and Vic got neither an invitation nor a questioning look, and Vic was pleased Eileen didn’t try to invite herself.
* * *
“Do you really think this Singh intends to reveal everything to us?” Musical asked as soon as he was alone with Born.
“If it were just us, I’d have no confidence,” Born admitted. “Do you really think he’d come here and falsely represent himself that way to Lee and by extension the Mothers? To forswear his word to either with his chop on that treaty would be a very dangerous game. At the hotel, with non-technical people, we spoke in generalities, and then we got interrupted by Strangelove’s concerns, but tomorrow he will have every opportunity be very specific and reveal his secrets before we reveal ours, or I’ll tell Lee he is acting in bad faith. He may think we are a bit simple because we did not see any security problems with using the storage service. If he has that attitude I will disabuse him of it quickly. Security is not our area of skill, but we are no fools dealing with physics.”
“We Badgers may be to too much like humans,” Musical admitted. “I find being suspicious very easy. Let’s meet early to prepare a concise presentation of our work for him, but insist he makes good on his side of the offer first.”
* * *
“I feel up in the air,” Eileen said. “I’m not sure what the final outcome of Jeff working with Lee’s people is going to be. If they have their own jump drive are we going to be needed here at all? We’re just getting settled in and the whole basis of our needing to be here may change.”
“I wouldn’t get overly concerned about it so early,” Victor advised her. “Even they don’t know what they are going to find when they compare notes. If the theory is there, it’s going to take time to translate that to designs and actually build things like ships. Having an embassy here seems a permanent matter to me. I can’t imagine Heather is going to withdraw us because the Derf get a better drive. Indeed, she is going to want to keep a closer eye on them than before. Neither does it mean we don’t need to continue to support the defense of Derfhome as a message to the Earthies that we are allied, even if they do gain a better ability to defend themselves.”
“You don’t think Heather will yank us back home and send a flunky to keep the embassy open once they can defend themselves?” Eileen asked.
“Not a chance,” Vic said. “Derfhome will become more important to us not less, and Heather will want her best people here, not somebody who needs their hand held. It works the other way finally too, you know.”
“What does?” Eileen asked, not getting his chain of thought.
“With better drives, the Derf as allies can reciprocate and help protect Central as full partners,” Vic said, “not just be under our protection like charity cases. Who knows, once Lee has her claims organization fully functioning, Heather may want to register our worlds with them, so they are under the protection of the Derf and their allies too.”
“Now that would be a change I’d have never imagined,” Eileen admitted.
Vic could imagine a great deal more, but didn’t want to overwhelm Eileen.
* * *
“Do you really intend to keep this entire episode to yourself?” Sam asked.
Bill looked alarmed. It occurred to him that Sam might take it upon himself to report this independently. It would be hard to prevent that happening. He had to have the means of stay in contact and report if something happened to Bill.
“What are the upsides and downsides of reporting it?” Bill asked.
“For which players?” Sam asked.
“Consider us first,” Bill said, but then he prompted Sam a little.
“If they believe the Centralists have no evil plans, have we benefited our own?”
“Maybe eased some worry,” Sam said, “but if they intended no harm then there was never any real danger in the first place, so no real benefit but to feelings.”
“And if they don’t believe what Singh said?” Bill asked.
“Then they’d continue with the same level of caution as before, and no real harm is done there either,” Sam decided. “I doubt anything we’d say could spur them on to greater action if it cost any serious money.”
He looked thoughtful and Bill stayed silent since he seemed to be processing some thoughts.
“The only way we would improve the USNA’s position is if we could verify they intend serious hostilities and warn them,” Sam decided. “They’d probably need a hard date and plan of action to believe us. Otherwise, the benefits are really marginal. Like with us as an example, they are going to keep us here supplying a stream of intelligence on the general conditions on Derfhome even if we informed them the Derf and Centralists have a very benign agenda. The cost to keep us here is insignificant. We could damn near pay our own way with the occasional client.”
“Not to make you feel bad, but if the Centralists did intend serious hostilities, I have my serious doubts our report would make much difference,” Bill said.
“That’s ugly, but probably true. It would be something like a deliberate asteroid strike, and as far as I know, nobody has an effective defense against that,” Sam realized. “The only defense is a promise of mutual destruction if it is used.”
“And how would it affect just the two of us?” Bill asked.
“Well, we’d be heroes if we had an actual attack plan,” Sam said. “If they believed us, even if it didn’t keep them from dropping a rock on Vancouver. It might be just a matter of being hailed as heroes in some history book, if anybody is left to write it.”
“Or a continent-sized rock,” Bill said. “Then the detailed history of how it happened might be lost in the rubble.”
That was too horrible to contemplate, and Sam was quiet for a moment.
“Either way there would be nothing to go home to for us. I sort of imagine with Vancouver removed North America would go entirely Texas Republic. I’m not sure what we would do, but I doubt Texas would require our services.”
“And if we inform them the Centralists and Derf intend no harm? How would that impact us?” Bill asked.
“It might harm our careers and mission here if they disapproved of us speaking to Singh, all for no real benefit to our country,” Sam concluded. “We didn’t exactly cover ourselves with glory at the storage place. I’d rather that story didn’t get out.”
“The only way that would happen is if somebody present is a double agent working against their apparent loyalties,” Bill said. “On Earth that would be a concern, here we are dealing with tribal loyalties and spacer nations. The only weak spot I can see is Ms. Harvac’s sidekick. She’s too firmly attached to her father’s interests to be a risk.”
“It just occurred to me,” Sam said, “in a worst-case scenario we’d not only have a terminated mission as agents, but our business here as legal advisors on North American law would be pretty well shot too.”
“What do you want to do about that?” Bill asked Sam.
“Well, we’ve found we can keep our people happy with abbreviated reports. Since we aren’t going to be busy tracking all these local players as actively, perhaps we should build up a real local business, just as a safety net.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Bill agreed. If he’d suggested that a week ago, he was certain Sam would have called him a traitor.
* * *
“Is Bill King going to tell his agency we are running an intelligence operation outside our mandate and make trouble for the department?” Kirk worried.
“Mr. King and his boy wonder don’t dare breathe a word of this affair or they will look like a pair of inept clowns,” Pamela assured him. “He’s coasting along in a nice safe back-water assignment until he retires, doing routine data collection. His agency doesn’t expect any danger or need of real spy-craft or they wouldn’t have sent Bill King here. We lucked out actually to be caught and have opportunity to speak with Singh candidly. We can report what happened, edited somewhat to our benefit, without looking foolish and they can’t. I think on the whole Undersecretary Wilson will consider everything and come to the same conclusion I did, that Singh’s statements are basically honest and answer our concerns about Central’s new collection of biological specimens. Whether he will agree with Singh’s alien view that we are recklessly foolish in pushing the Chinese isn’t a concern of mine, I’m just quoting Singh, and Wilson can draw his own conclusions. Even if he agreed with that analysis, I have my doubts he could sway his boss. Secretary Sepulveda is a very strong and opinionated personality. But he’s older and Wilson may be the subordinate to replace him when he retires. My father has taught me to play the long game.”
“Will you ask to terminate the mission and go home now?” Kirk asked.
“Are you that eager to be rid of me?” Pamela asked.
“On the contrary, it bothers me that if we go home, I’m sure you will be sent off on some other assignment. Senior people with off-world experience tend to be tapped for that duty again. I’m not sure where I’d end up, or if I’d quit for a civilian job. I’m not sure I’m a good fit for public service and it might be smart to move on while I’m ahead.”
“We’d both be let go if it became known we were fraternizing. The department is death on that and follows the guidelines exactly,” Pamela said. “So, going home would likely be the end of our time together. I don’t have the kind of seniority needed to start demanding I can maintain a team of my own.”
“I hope you don’t think I’d be careless and hurt your career. I’d never do anything to hurt you,” Kirk promised.
“Oh no, I admire your good sense. As far as asking to go home I think there is far more happening here than we had any idea. Issues of importance to North America’s dealing with the Spacers back in our system. We may have solved the question that brought us here, but I think it would be a terrible idea to abandon a good cover that will give us a long-term excuse to keep an eye on things here. Bill King could be working for any of a half dozen spy shops, but he’s likely with Interstellar Intelligence. It doesn’t matter much because whichever it is, they aren’t suddenly going to share any information they don’t have to with us. They all hoard their best stuff. So, we need to maintain our mission here. Even if Wilson wants to bring us home, I’m going to strongly suggest he rotate somebody else in and keep it going.”
“And you want to know if the bees are viable. Admit it,” Kirk said.
“Yeah, the stupid things are fascinating the more you know about them, and it would just impress the hell out of my father if I created a profitable business in the process of maintaining a cover. Let me ask you a question. If we keep getting along so famously and we’re serious about each other. When we do have to return, would you consider letting me recommend you to my father? I think your talents are underutilized in the department. His sort of business would challenge you more and pay a lot better. That is, if it wouldn’t make you feel like a kept man.”
With her religious upbringing, Kirk knew “serious” was code for “marriage” to Pamela. Would he mind being son-in-law to a billionaire? Hardly. He hadn’t been impressed with her at all when they were traveling here, but she’d risen to the realities of the mission beautifully.
“We’re all kept by someone or another,” Kirk said, tactfully. “Better we’re kept by somebody who values us and we can feel good about supporting them in turn. I’d like to have the security of knowing where I’m going from here. If I worked for your dad you could stay with the department and nobody could have any complaint about us at all.”
“Good,” she said and gave him a hug.
* * *
“Do you need to go to the clinic?” Atlas asked Leonardo. “You were completely out of it for a moment there when he used the Taser on you. For a horrible instant, I thought he’d killed you. Do you feel OK now?”
“It never feels OK to be blindsided. We had no idea all these other players besides Lee were involved with Born and that little Badger creep. I just wish we’d gotten those samples safely a couple of days ago before this Singh showed up. Now, I have to figure out some other way to find out what they are working on. That Red Tree fellow, Strangelove, is going to have their lab and storage locked down tight. Obviously, it’s really important or all these high powered off-world people wouldn’t nosing around trying to get in on it too. They always erase their data when they are done with the machine. Maybe we can tap the input channel to the machine controls, so we have a copy of the program before they erase it at the end? I assume you know to keep your mouth carefully shut about all this?” Leonardo asked, with a nasty threatening scowl.
“Of course,” Atlas said with all the sincerity he could muster. Leonardo was going to keep messing with these people until he got his butt fried dead. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to try to tell him that, he was chronically hard of listening. Atlas had come way too close to sharing his fate today. He hadn’t forgotten that lanky big Human male hadn’t been bothered in the least at the idea of killing them on the spot. He had the sense to be scared even if his professor was oblivious. It seemed like a really good idea to go see Bacon at his first opportunity. He needed to change his major to something like Construction and Architecture, or just about anything else, as long as it wasn’t something Leonardo taught.
Chapter 23
“Have you heard from my guys yet this morning?” Lee asked Jeff first thing at breakfast. “I can prompt them to get in touch with you right now if you want.”
“I took the liberty of leaving them a message at Born’s com address,” Jeff said. “I’m not familiar with what the sleep habits of either species are, but I informed them we would be having breakfast together and any time they are ready to show me their lab and get down to technical discussions I’ll come over.”
“That’s fine,” Lee agreed, “if they aren’t forthcoming let me know.”
“The little one, the Badger, is feisty. I thought he was going to wade into Leonardo bare handed when we caught them in their room. He may take a little more convincing than the Derf, that I know what I’m talking about,” Jeff said.
“If he seems skeptical take them for a ride in your ship,” Lee said, and grinned.
“Likely a peek at the machinery after would be more to the point,” Jeff said.
Lee’s com chimed, which surprised her since she had it set to reject most calls while she was with Jeff. She expected it to be Bacon and Musical but it was Sally from the bank. Well, on loan from the bank, she reminded herself. The new claims commission was a full-time job for her now with office staff.
Sally didn’t keep her long, and Lee was smiling when she disconnected.
“Was that your guys, hunting me down?” Jeff asked.
“No, my… woman I guess I’d say. She certainly isn’t a girl. She’s near as old as you!” Lee said, and embarrassed herself.
“That’s entirely all right,” Jeff said. “When a bit of age doesn’t turn you into a decrepit wreck it doesn’t remain such a sensitive subject. It’s funny, people used to know when they were middle-aged and when they were old, even if one didn’t admit it. Now we have no idea how long life-extension therapy will be effective. We may be just starting or a bunch of us could start dropping dead no matter how young we look.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but it changes how you look at risks,” Lee decided. “If lightning kills one in a hundred thousand, how should we regard it when we are exposed ten times as long?” Lee looked up at the sky. “Do we stop having breakfast on the balcony because we might get zapped by a bolt out of the blue?”
“One could install a field potential sensor and have it send an alert to your spex,” Jeff suggested, always thinking practically.
“Yes, I imagine we might keep adding things like that,” Lee agreed, “and add a lot of redundancy. I’d rather really do that than become obsessed with avoiding all risk and live in a deep cave. The thing about Sally is she was in her nineties when she went to Earth with us. Even with the best of conventional medicine, she was going to start declining very soon if she hadn’t gone to the Moon with us and gotten LET. I’m told now she looks about half her age. I’m very poor at judging that, but she has filled out quite a bit. She was still sharp when I met her, and her experience is invaluable.
“They keep making little advances. She may look forty-five now and in a few years, after getting a few more tweaks, look like thirty-five,” Jeff said.
“She had some really good news,” Lee said. “The Deep Space Explorer Early Bird out of Fargone has made Derfhome orbit and is inquiring how to register a world claim from their voyage on our list instead of proceeding to Earth.”
“Was she off in the beyond away from Earth?” Jeff wondered. He privately hoped they hadn’t named the world Worm…
“More of an angle off from how the Little Fleet went, not that deep really, but an area not well documented. There are actually some claims beyond their course registered with the Commission if you go by straight distance,” Lee said. “So, you might reasonably expect they’d have taken them to Earth.”
“And so it starts. They’ve really shot themselves in the foot,” Jeff said. “It will be painfully obvious when an Earth registered explorer comes here instead of using the old commission. What are you calling it anyway? You can’t just call it the new commission.”
“It says ‘The Exploration Society Protection Registry’ on the forms. That translates nicely for everyone. We aren’t really a commission, nor do we have a charter, and we don’t want to tie it to the High Hopes Exploratory Society. That would be a mess to sort out. We’ll apply to register our claims like everybody else.”
Jeff nodded. “That works. People will just abbreviate it to the Registry in everyday conversation the same way they spoke of the Commission.”
“You’re welcome to use it you know,” Lee said.
Jeff looked surprised at the idea.
“You don’t have a registry of your own, do you?” Lee asked.
“Not in the legal sense,” Jeff admitted. “We have a catalog and charts for navigation, but no public proclamation of ownership. As it stands, Heather claims sovereignty over our worlds. Our living planets are always occupied and have a watch set to intercept any ships that stumble upon us.”
“Yes, she told us the story of that happening at least once,” Lee reminded him. “If not your settled planets, you might want to at least declare ownership of mining sites or fuel sources. Eventually, people will happen upon them. It might be less trouble if they know they are owned from their charts than being hailed and challenged, or not challenged at all if you just visit occasionally. We found one of your mining sites, you know.”
“We’ve been… secretive,” Jeff admitted. “Not without cause. We don’t have a good relationship with Earth, and we don’t depend on anyone else to defend our ownership. It would require a major shift in thought and policy to declare what we hold, and where. I will discuss it with my sovereign,” Jeff said, with a suddenly formal tone that made Lee drop taking that line of inquiry further.
This time it was Jeff’s com that interrupted.
“Now your fellows are ready to talk science,” Jeff said. “I’ll have Strangelove run me over there if you don’t mind.”
“If you’ve had your fill,” Lee said, waving a hand at the remains of breakfast. “If you get past theory and do a little engineering that would be fine too.”
“You don’t want to come along?” Jeff invited.
“I have a friend I rescued from Earth who I’ve been supporting and helping. I promised her lunch and a visit today. You will probably be dealing in such abstract ideas that I’d just slow down your discussion to have to stop and explain things to me. Born and Musical are painfully polite with me that way and I don’t want to do that,” Lee said.
“Perhaps we should meet again for dinner,” Jeff suggested.
“Alright, but we’ll have Strangelove take us to a restaurant,” Lee said. “I can’t eat-in every meal and you should see more than labs and hotels while you are here.”
“It’s a date then,” Jeff agreed. “It will keep me from getting carried away and doing an overnight with your researchers. I know how easy it is to lose all sense of time when you get together with people who have the same interests.”
Lee nodded yes, but was inwardly taken aback by his casual remark. She had a different idea of what a date was, but Jeff hadn’t said anything other than that single word to imply it was a social outing. She decided it was just a minor cultural difference.
* * *
When sundown arrived with no word, Lee knew dinner was going to be late by the time Jeff could pry himself away from talking shop. Lee didn’t call and ask if they were still on. She figured if they were deeply immersed in their discussion and finding it hard to break away it was all to her good. If they broke up early, it would probably be because they weren’t able to agree on something critical and found themselves in opposition. With the strong personalities involved, that wasn’t something she’d wanted to try to repair. It was good if they ran late. They hadn’t set a hard time for dinner. She went ahead and had a snack, just big enough to keep her from getting irritable and small enough she’d still be able to eat something when Jeff did tear himself away.
When her pad finally chimed Jeff had the social sense to be a little sheepish.
“Is it too late to do dinner?” he asked. “If you’ve already eaten, we can put off meeting until tomorrow and make it breakfast instead.”
“I had a snack about an hour and a half ago but left some room. Have you eaten anything?” Lee asked. “I assume you have the jacked-up metabolism like most people with LET?”
“I do, and I’m starved,” Jeff admitted. “Your guys were still working at Born’s lab when I left. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stay up all night. I’m outside in the car with Strangelove driving. If you still want to go somewhere, I’ll meet you at your elevator and walk you to the car.”
“If Strangelove will let you. I admit I’ve got some bad memories associated with hotel lobbies, but being Derfhome instead of California, I can probably make it to the car OK without being mugged this time. At least I’m properly armed here.”
“There’s no way I could let you do that after such a story,” Jeff said, horrified. “We will both come and walk you to the car. Strangelove would likely suggest it if I didn’t.”
“See you in maybe two minutes,” Lee promised. “I’m ready to walk out the door.”
It probably wasn’t a full two minutes, but Jeff and Strangelove were there when the elevator doors opened. Jeff facing her and Strangelove turned the other way scanning the lobby. There wasn’t a soul there besides the clerk, but Strangelove was all business. Jeff was surprised to see Lee had on the very decorative dagger she’d worn to his suite yesterday, and had added a brace of pistols, grips forward.
“Do you have somewhere you’d like to go, a favorite spot perhaps?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, it’s been boring today. There’s a place by the port that’s fun. The name of the place translates to ‘Bottom Berth’. If you have Strangelove get us over near the port, I can direct you. For some reason, the automated cars say they have no such address when you ask for it.”
“I know where it is,” Strangelove told her. But why did he smile so? Jeff wondered.
“It’s not out of the way, I want to swing by our facility and get a couple of troopers,” Strangelove said. “They can keep an eye on the car while we are having… dinner.”
Jeff had questions but decided to keep his mouth shut and observe.
The troopers were armored up, but nothing like the black soft armor Strangelove’s men wore at the storage facility. Their armor was pre-contact hard armor of a bronze alloy, engraved in complex lines with enamel overlay. They wore a bright sash of Red Tree colors to identify the clan they served, and the only item of modern equipment was a single machine pistol slung on their hip from the opposite shoulder.
“They put on quite a show, don’t they?” Lee asked.
“I’m trying to imagine it in full bright sunlight,” Jeff said. The enamel overlay was eye-searing bright green on one soldier and an absolutely vibrant violet on the other.
“Oh, the thing about that is when they move,” Lee said. “All the engraving catches the light and throws flares. It’s positively dazzling. It’s a treat for them to be able to show off, and it reminds the town folk that Red Tree has a history and reputation.”
“I guess camo never caught on with Derf,” Jeff decided.
“And our car will be here when we come out,” Strangelove said, “all of it. The car companies don’t dispatch rides to the port entertainment district, because the custom isn’t worth the damage and clean up to service it.”
“The more I learn, the more Derf and Humans are alike,” Jeff said.
“I’ll take that as intended for a compliment,” Strangelove said.
The club was the first Derf business Jeff had entered with visible security. There was a bouncer on each side of the door. He thought Strangelove was large. He was merely average. The two flanking the door had to have difficulty fit fitting in cabs and airplanes sized for normal Derf. They surprised him by giving a little bow to Lee and never glanced at her entourage. He suspected she must be a regular customer.
Jeff couldn’t imagine she came here regularly alone. Did her large furry father escort her here? Somehow, he doubted Gordon would approve. It was none of his business to ask, but he added it to the list of things he’d like to know about Lee.
Derf had horns and strings, but they favored percussion instruments. The music hit him in the face when he stepped inside like a physical hand. They obviously had some kind of hush field on the outside to placate the neighborhood. Just now there was a group of drummers trying to beat something to death that sounded like timpani, though a couple of them ran off the scale below human hearing. He knew they were there though because they made his insides jiggle.
The maître d’ met Lee and took her hand in both of his, leaning close and somehow speaking over the drums. He led them towards the back and set them in a private nook that looked down on the stage. Jeff was amazed to see Derf dance. There were two facing each other mirroring each other’s moves. It looked a bit like Tai Chi, but the tempo was increasing, and they were keeping up. The slightly different beat of each drum drifted together as it sped up and on the last four beats all the drums were struck in unison, and the dancers struck palms like Humans doing a high five. The finale just about knocked him over and the sudden silence was shocking.
Their table had a large copper dish hanging inverted with wire cloth fitted across the bottom. Lee motioned for the maître d to pull it down since she’d need a step ladder, and he pressed something on the top edge, looking a question at Lee. The noise from the bar and other patrons faded. Lee pointed down and made a gesture with fingers close together. The fellow dropped the noise level a little more and Lee gave him a thumb up.
“Marcel will be serving your table tonight,” the maître d said and excused himself.
Marcel turned out to be a near blond Derf. Jeff wondered if that was natural or if he had his coat artificially colored like that. He had a modern pad to take their order looking at Lee expectantly first.
“I’d like a Coke, a glass with ice, and a bottle of bourbon. Just bring the bottle and leave it,” Lee instructed. “
“I’ll share, if you don’t need the whole bottle,” Jeff quipped.
“That’s fine. Get some mix if you like,” Lee suggested.
“Just a glass of ice for me,” Jeff told Marcel.
“A bottle of redberry wine and sweet soda,” Strangelove said. Lee made a face but didn’t say anything out loud.
“A local product?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, think dessert wine, sweet even before the soda,” Lee said.
Marcel nodded and hesitated. “Would you care for appetizers?” he asked Lee.
“Sure, bring a variety. Enough for a few extra people,” Lee said.
Marcel tapped a few lines on the pad and tucked it under an elbow. Jeff expected him to leave, but he just stepped back out of the noise canceling hush-field and stood watching for any sign they needed anything. Apparently serving their table meant full time, and didn’t mean serving anything by his own hand, he had minions for that. One showed up quickly with their drinks on a cart. Lee was offered bottles of Knob Creek or Belle Meade. She took the Knob Creek without asking Jeff.
The music started up again with sharp cracking noises like smacking drum sticks across a ceramic jar, punctuated by a clear bell tone occasionally. Jeff caught himself drumming the table to it without being aware he’d started.
Marcel looked over their appetizers with a critical eye before he allowed them to be put on the table. Then he took their orders at Lee’s bidding. Jeff let Lee order for him.
The crusty little rolls were dipped in oil with chopped herbs rather than spread with butter. When Jeff’s dish ran low Marcel made a little gesture to someone out of their sight who ran in and replenished it. On the whole, he’d rarely seen this level of service anywhere.
There was a sudden surge of excited voices from further in the establishment that penetrated even under the hush hood.
“Do you have any idea what that is all about?” Jeff asked.
“They have a little gambling parlor too. If somebody makes a big play, they do get worked up,” Lee said. “The Fargoers are insane about gambling and the Derf are happy to accommodate them. It was an issue among my fleet. We had no idea they were such diehard gamblers when we hired a majority Fargoer crew. They were playing poker with million-dollar pots on the way back, anticipating being rich.”
When Jeff looked a question at her she added. “Dollars Ceres.”
Marcel supervised the serving of their entrees. Strangelove had ham steaks fried with cloves, the cloves being imported thus more costly than the ham. Lee ordered local beef and new potatoes. Jeff couldn’t fault local cuisine. It was as good as anything he could get back home.
“You know how Derf like sweets,” Lee said. “I hope you left room for dessert.”
“I’m a bit full actually. I’m afraid I got carried away with the appetizers,” Jeff admitted, “but I’m curious. Could we go see this gaming parlor and have dessert later?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Lee said, “but let’s yield the table to them. By the time we’re ready for dessert, the crowd will have thinned and they should have tables open.
Lee, being familiar with the club, had noise reducing ear-plugs, offering a pair to Jeff. He gratefully accepted. Strangelove was unbothered. Derf tolerated a much higher level of noise better than Humans.
There were some games being played Jeff could recognize, and the Humans, Fargoers by their dress, seemed to favor those. There was a roulette wheel, dice, and a Human appearing to be dealing Blackjack. What attracted his attention was a table with mostly Derf from which there were occasional clacking noises and lots of exclamations from the players.
“What is that?” Jeff asked, nodding towards the table. He wasn’t sure if pointing was acceptable or rude.
“That’s a local game,” Lee said, “It’s called Baht.”
She said it with a soft a. “That translates to Oops, or said more emphatically, maybe, Oh crap.”
There were eight active players. Jeff got behind the single Human playing, not because he felt any affinity, but because he was easier to look past to see the play.
The table was pretty big, about two meters square with a polished surface and a rail all the way around broad enough to hold your playing pieces and a drink, or even a snack one player had parked at hand. The dealer stood at one corner.
The game pieces were colorful disks a little bigger than a hockey puck, which all things considered were fairly dainty for a Derf true hand. A hole in the middle of the table was slightly larger than the puck so they could fall through. That was demonstrated shortly after Jeff started watching. A red puck was propelled to strike a yellow puck and knocked it forward into the hole.
“What is the object of the game?” Jeff asked.
Strangelove answered from behind him. “When the players have used all their pieces the one closest to the hole wins the whole pot. There are variations but they aren’t very popular. If you announce a non-standard game it can be hard to fill the table. Four can play with double pieces, but usually, there are eight players with six pucks each. Right now they are playing a dollar Ceres to buy in a game. It goes pretty fast.”
“How does the house make anything?” Jeff wondered.
“The winner is expected to pay the house one puck from the pot. Serious aficionados of the game will tip the dealer according to their mood. If the table is clear at the end with no pucks remaining the house gets the whole pot,” Strangelove said.
“Does that happen very often?” Jeff asked him.
“No, but I’ve seen it happen. The last piece on the table will get bumped just a little too hard and… Baht, the active puck follows it right in the hole.”
This game ended with a red and yellow puck tight against each other very close to the hole. The last piece in play was white and he tried to split them to push them away from the hole. The shot hit one harder than the other splitting them successfully but the white went in the hole after doing that. The red puck won, even though it was halfway back to the rail. Its owner politely said thank you to the white puck player when collecting.
Several players stepped away and their places were taken by others. The Human in front of them turned and told Jeff. “Go ahead, I heard you asking about the game. Let me watch somebody else throw his money away for a change.”
Jeff got a little push from behind to encourage him. What amused him was it was two shoves, from Lee and Strangelove both.
The players all slid Ceres silver dollars across the table to the dealer, and Jeff saw there was already an informal competition to get as close to his corner as possible.
Jeff dug in his pocket and got a coin. “Can you make change?” he asked the dealer, and slid a gold solar across the table to him.
“Of course sir,” the dealer said, but there were a couple hoots and whistles from the other players. That was interesting. He’d never heard a Derf whistle.
The dealer sent another worker around the table with a tray. Jeff hadn’t any idea what the exchange rate was but they gave him twenty-two dollars Ceres on a tray. He took one and slid the silver dollar across to the dealer. The dealer slid it right back and informed him he’d already deducted his dollar to play.
When everybody paid up their pucks rose from a recess in the table. Apparently, the table sorted them automatically. “Winning color starts the new game,” Strangelove leaned over and said by his ear. “Then it goes clockwise looking down on the table.”
Red smoothly propelled his piece and it went right up to the edge and slowly tipped in the hole. That got some comments and ribbing around the table. “Alas, that was the dealer’s game tip,” he quipped.
Two more pucks went close to the hole without falling in. The fourth player bumped one of them in but was left not very close to the hole. That brought the play to the player on Jeff’s right. The pucks in play were to the other side of the hole, so they could not be addressed directly. He leaned to one side and slid his puck forcefully, bouncing off the table rail and striking the more advantaged puck from behind. Unfortunately, he just improved its position.
Being less experienced, Jeff figured any play aimed right at the hole was too risky. He’d likely drop it down the hole like the first play. He aimed to one side and didn’t do too badly. It was short of the hole but in the right neighborhood.
The player next to him did another high energy throw that bumped Jeff’s puck in and continued beyond to bounce off the rail and come back near the hole.
“Very nice play,” Jeff told him.
“If aiming to the side, it’s a little better to go slightly beyond,” the fellow graciously gave him a tip on playing the game. Jeff nodded acknowledgment.
Next time around Jeff took his advice but red, on the opposite side, knocked him in.
At the game’s end, Jeff had one piece on the table, but it was off in a far corner nowhere near the hole. It had been hit so hard it went across the hole without falling in.
When the game ended Jeff stepped away. “These guys are good. I’d get as much entertainment value by throwing my money in the street and watching people scramble for it, and as much chance of winning,” he concluded.
“It does take some experience,” Strangelove agreed. “I can see the difference between you and Fargoers. One of them could never walk away after one turn at play.”
“On the Moon, I’m Lord of a small town,” Jeff told him. “It’s sort of a protectorate or dependent territory under my Sovereign Heather. It has a casino she barely tolerates, not being fond of compulsive gamblers. Mostly it attracts Chinese gamblers from Earth as it was originally a Chinese colony. They easily satisfy all the expectations of Chinese players, including dealers and servers fluent in Chinese. I’m going to have to introduce this game to them. I think it would be a hit. I need to get plans for a table or buy one and have it taken apart to reproduce.”
“I tell you what, I’d like a table in my suite to play,” Lee said. “I’ll inquire of the management where to buy one and have Born and Musical hire somebody to disassemble it and measure up everything.”
“Thank you,” Jeff said, “I hadn’t expected this trip to be profitable too.”
“What Strangelove said made me think of it. I wasn’t willing to pay to practice here until I had a chance of winning. But I expect if I have my own table on which to practice my next trip here will be profitable, and a lot more fun too.”
“I’d like to come see that if you’ll give me a call,” Strangelove said. “Is it too early to go back for dessert?”
“Not at all, since I had the same gene tweaks Jeff has, I get hollow awfully fast.”
* * *
The car was there when they went back to it, as well as a crowd of town Derf admiring the historic armor their guards were wearing. A lot of second and third generation town Derf had never seen full fancy armor. It wasn’t just ceremonial, in its time it was in battlefield use. They actually put that much effort and art into the functional armor. The locals were taking pictures and requesting they pose beside them.
After dropping the troopers off, the three of them returned to Lee’s suite at the hotel. It was late but Lee offered an Earth brandy nightcap and they accepted.
“Did my guys show you their equipment?” Lee asked.
“A little, they had the spinner there, but we didn’t go look at the glass-metal fabber they have at the university. I don’t care. Fabricators are standard tech and nothing about theirs is unique. As a bonus, I didn’t have to see Leonardo or any of his minions. Also, most of the time was spent with me telling them about our drive and its development history. They hadn’t considered the possibility of their current device being used as a weapon, but we used it from orbit that way in Home’s original rebellion. I got the clear message Musical doesn’t trust me and wanted to have me show our cards plainly before he revealed anything. I’m not sure if Born is any more trusting or if he is just more polite about it.”
“Good,” Lee surprised him by saying. “Maybe they aren’t hopelessly stereotypical academics. If they pay attention to the changes Strangelove here insists on, they may develop some concept of security.”
“They aren’t stupid,” Strangelove allowed, “so I’ll be careful to explain why I insist on certain things, detailing how neglecting them can lead to an unfortunate chain of events. I find people obey directives better when they understand the reasons for them, smart people all the more so than stupid ones.”
“That would be useful,” Jeff agreed. “I’d also like you to hire a third person to work with them,” he told Lee. “They shouldn’t have to rely on the Engineering College in the future beyond hosting their fabber. Or anything connected with Leonardo. I’d like you to hire a machinist and fabricator, somebody ideally who can do design work to their specs. They did fabricate their own frame to hold the spinner, but it looks like it, the welds are about as ugly as anyone can make them and still be functional.”
“I could supply such a person, if you don’t mind giving the Mothers another window on your activities,” Strangelove said.
“Ultimately, it’s their business too, at a political level. It’s worth using clan people for the improved security. Don’t you agree, Jeff?”
Jeff was surprised he got a vote, but agreed readily.
“Thanks for the brandy,” Strangelove said. “It’s the finest I’ve ever had and I’m not going to ask the name of it. Like the honey I enjoyed for breakfast with Jeff, I’m sure the price of such star goods would flabbergast me. But it was a fun experience.”
That was interesting. Rather than wait on Jeff to signal he was done Strangelove made it clear he was finished and ready to leave. It would have been awkward for Jeff to argue otherwise now and he also thanked Lee and got to his feet after Strangelove. That was unexpected. The whole thing still left Lee wondering if it was a date or not.
* * *
“I think Jeff or his sovereign got a good deal from Lee,” Musical said.
“Well yes, I agree. But it isn’t a zero-sum game. I think we’re getting a pretty good deal too,” Born insisted. “Sometimes you are needlessly skeptical, almost like Humans.”
“His superconductor is a fluid, which just complicates everything. It has to be contained and it doesn’t contribute to supporting itself in motion. That means the machine has more failure modes, and our version will be easier to build and stronger. If he told the truth that he can’t even make the fluid himself. Why would his own mother deny him the technique?”
“He did try to explain that, and he might well have refused since it is such a personal thing,” Born said. “I have to admit it doesn’t fit my cultural expectations. I get that isn’t him his mother distrusts. It’s the fact this Earth government is making such extraordinary efforts to seize her work. If China is as crazy as the other Earth government Lee dealt with, North America, I can’t discount her caution. He might make every effort to safeguard it and fail. I’d say more, but I’m not an expert on the psychology of Earth Humans.”
“No please, I’m eager for any scrap to try to understand this. Tell me your idea, and I’ll weigh it as a tentative theory without assigning it too much weight,” Musical asked.
“Alright, with Derf we have our clan structure. I thought we have a wider range of people taking a hand in our upbringing than Humans, but Lee assured me there is a lot of variation in Human cultures. Some raise their children with very little help, perhaps even without grandparents, given their shorter lifespan. Some even school their children at home for some years before sending them for secondary education. Other Earth cultures have a saying that it takes a village to raise a child.
“But she indicated that whether parents or an extended group, the ones teaching a child have a very hard time admitting in their mind they are ever finished, and the person is a full adult, just as capable as them. They are always twenty or thirty years ahead. So in the teacher’s mind, they are always a child. That also might be a factor with his mother.”
“Sweet screaming little goddesses, you just described my Aunt and Uncle perfectly,” Musical said. “When they visit my parents instead of asking me how I’m doing they ask my parents how the cub is doing with me sitting right there. Like I’m six years old and don’t have ears or feelings to be insulted.”
“It may be a fault common to all intelligent species,” Born suggested. “It’d not like we are fish who can lay eggs in the gravel and never see their offspring until they are grown. If you have to instruct your young, you have seen them at their stupidest, and most naïve. A person would have to be pretty impressive to convince a parent they are finally full peers.”
“You seem to grasp these concepts readily. Perhaps you should have been a mind doctor,” Musical said.
“Never, biology is messy. You can never have hard numbers and definite answers. At best you weigh statistics. Then, about the time you document something, there are social changes that wipe out the circumstances of your original study. I’ll take physics, thank you,” Born assured him.
“Our patron gave her word, so I have to support that in any case,” Musical allowed.
“If his information saves one devastating earthquake, or keeps us from losing a ship and crew testing our drive, it will be well worth it,” Born insisted. “We still have what we were striving for but faster and with less cost in lives paid for it likely. If he’d offered such help for cash-payment instead of shared knowledge you’d have been interested in it, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably true,” Musical agreed, “but just between us, and never quote me on this, I wasn’t going to volunteer for the first flight. Not even one of the first ten.”
Chapter 24
“There is a remarkable amount of orbit shifting of almost every hull in Low Earth Orbit, and a tremendous volume of encrypted radio traffic,” the head of Heather’s traffic controllers reported.
That was telling, since Heather had never set any conditions for their service to make reports directly to her. It was only out of genuine concern and a sense of responsibility that he spoke. Of course, it helped they weren’t dumb as a box of rocks. She decided she owed them the same forthrightness. Heather didn’t want them to think she would blow off their report. He probably only approached her after serious concerns were raised from a number of his active controllers.
“Yes, they’re getting ready to do something stupid,” Heather acknowledged. It was the right thing to do. She saw the tension drain from the man. He’d been more worried his sovereign might not take him seriously, than anything the Earthies might do.
“We’ve had stealthy fly-bys in trans-lunar orbit for a month. I’m sure you were aware of those. Also my intelligence services report China, North America and India have been dispersing their military forces for the last three days. Most space forces are difficult to disperse given the sort of launch facilities they need, but just about every hull they own is in orbit instead of sitting on the ground.
“But what is most telling is that the North American Congress should be in session, but they have left town and scattered to the winds without explanation. One suspects that the Chinese have done the same. The amount of street traffic around their administrative centers has dropped more than half.”
“Are they going to attack us?” the man asked.
“I’d be surprised if they don’t,” Heather admitted. “That’s why I have advised most of the landholders to reduce their surface activities as much as possible and move everyone they can to their deepest tunnels. There is no point in doing that with my own workers, like you, because we have always moved as deep as possible as we continue tunneling. I suppose I should move my own residence and court lower, but if I’m not safe here I doubt another ten kilometers will be that much safer. It’s a bother.”
“We noticed there is almost nothing sitting in the surface landing fields.”
“There isn’t that much in the deep hangers either,” Heather told him, “if we have nukes used against the surface facilities anything in the deep hangers will probably be there for several years before they can be dug out.
“Feel free to do whatever you think wise for the safety of you and your family, but I’ll point out we have had an influx of people from the habs the last couple weeks, not the other way around. There are contingency plans for the safety of Home, Beta, and Gamma, but I’ll make no public announcement until they are needed. If thousands of people know what is planned our enemies will too. I am not leaving Central.”
“I will repeat your warning to my workers with your permission, all except that you have contingency plans.”
“The Earthies have endless contingency plans for ridiculous possibilities,” Heather said with a dismissive wave. “I’m sure they know we have our own plans. The trick is to have plans they are not capable of predicting, so there is no problem with telling your people the whole story. Some of them have family on the habs, it may ease their minds. Feel free to text me if you see any sudden changes. Your diligence is appreciated.”
“Thank you for your audience,” he said, and started to turn away. He paused after a step and looked back at Heather. “I’ll be staying too.”
* * *
“I’ve imparted about as much information as I brought with me,” Jeff reported to Lee. She hadn’t heard from any of them for three days and was having a hard time not interrupting their work to demand progress reports. She was almost certain that would not be helpful and would probably be a waste of their time to need to explain what was being done in terms she could understand. It was a sort of translation really.
“Both Born and Musical thoroughly understood the theory behind our drive. I really had little to tell them there, it was all in the actual application. They have drawings and photos. I did draw the line at disassembling my own ship’s systems when they have photos of the process. I don’t want to be stuck at dock with my drive laid out in pieces and unable to move for several hours until it is reassembled.
“They have three candidates for a design and fabrication man, well Derf actually. They will have to decide on one of them. I refused to get involved. Any one of them could probably do the job well. It’s nothing that requires a team. That would just slow things down as everybody needs to put their mark on the project and must struggle towards a consensus. They need to pick one with a personality that meshes with theirs. They have to work with him, and I’m no judge of that.
“He will have to redesign the drive as appropriate to their glassy material. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a rough prototype drive in a month. It isn’t all that hard to test. It can’t be installed in the depths of a hull. It should be mounted on the nose of a ship. Fortuitously, mounted on a standard nose grapple meant for docking is just fine.”
“You seem frazzled,” Lee told Jeff, trying for concern in her voice.
“I feel frazzled, not physically but mentally. I used to enjoy this sort of intense brainstorming with like-minded people. Somewhere along the line, I adopted a more leisurely style. And Musical questions everything until I wanted to strangle him.”
“You have been Lord Singh to the people around you for so long now you probably don’t get much of that. If I wasn’t his pay-master I’d probably want to strangle him too.”
“Oh no, the furry little fellow absolutely worships the ground upon which you tread. Be aware of that so you don’t abuse his trust. I am not unaware I have a few fan-boys like that, just as you suspect, and I’m quite uncomfortable with them. I’d much rather be surrounded with cynical people who will question what I say instead of nodding agreement and jumping to carry it out no matter what stupid thing I’ve said.”
Lee had to laugh at that. “Take a few days off to recuperate. Let me show you some local sights and introduce you to a friend. I’ll inquire and take you to Red Tree and let you meet the Mothers if you are interested.”
“Maybe after a couple of days off I can handle that,” Jeff agreed. “Right now I wouldn’t mind some lunch if you are free to go. Strangelove is antsy, pacing around the suite, and ready to drive us somewhere.”
* * *
“Space Force Control, USNA Frigate Edward Russo, Saul Simms master, announces departure imminent on a Thorn vector. Planned departure and jump profile as uploaded to you. Advise Earth Control, please.
“Thank you, Russo. Civilian Control is advised,” the military controller responded. In their system, the ship declared intent rather than ask permission. Traffic control could not withhold approval, just advise of any interfering traffic or other hazards.
There was a long silence. Other radio traffic on the traffic control frequency was absent, almost as if everybody was holding their breath listening.
“Earth Control, be advised Lunar Control has no L1 transit filed for the Edward Russo. We show her as an out of service system cutter reactivated as a USNA frigate two days ago, but she is an armed ship. Please check your outbound list, registration details, and make timely correction if this is in error.”
“Tacoma Space Force Control, responding to that advisory to Earth Control,” the radio said. It would have been Houston Control in the past, but that was now deep in the heart of the Texas Republic.
“We have been ordered to stop requesting courtesy L1 transits and proceed with normal operations as was done previously. If you want to monitor Earth Control we will continue to send them alerts in the clear, effective this date forward.”
Lunar control made no reply. There was nothing to say really. Characterizing the L1 doctrine as a courtesy arrangement ignored the fact four Chinese ships died to establish its validity back in 2087. The Solar System was effectively disarmed outside Earth Orbit, and it was only a later accommodation when starships started leaving the system for Earth nations to be granted passage out-system for armed vessels. The active controller forwarded the traffic to his leader. He was sure it would continue to the Sovereign.
Heather wondered if the vessel was really manned. With a short radio lag time, it wouldn’t be that difficult to operate it by remote control inside the lunar orbit. They had, after all, picked a low-value vessel from surplus storage to recommission. No, they would use real people, she decided. If their names weren’t known to others in their service it would be too easy later for someone to prove they weren’t aboard even if they were retired into a witness program. They’d sacrifice them and use their deaths as a propaganda bludgeon with their public. There was just about zero chance that they wouldn’t be at war with North America in a couple of hours. Would China join in or let North America handle it?
The exit vector for Thorn would be on the opposite side of the Earth from the Moon when the Edward Russo passed the L1 radius. That was probably why it was picked. Heather already had a ship dispatched. It made a double short jump around the Earth and was waiting for the Russo. They could have simply made the frigate disappear, but all this was theatre for public consumption, so to advance the dialog and get on with it the encroaching vessel was made into an expanding sphere of plasma using a weapon a good hundred times as large as necessary.
That happened over the night side of Earth. Maybe that was calculated for showmanship too, as well as the ship’s destination.
* * *
There was no immediate response from North America or the other Earth governments. These things followed a certain script the way Earth governments did things. It had to appear they were considering what to do in response to an unexpected act of aggression.
Somehow, Heather doubted all that many people were surprised an armed Earth vessel violating the L1 limit was destroyed. They would now show outraged politicians and grieving family. Probably the family grief was genuine, made worse by the fact they were probably hostages to their family member committing suicide. A ship full of single crew unencumbered by family members back home could have simply defected.
Those with family all knew doing that would result in their immediate family, if not a larger extended group, losing all income and allowances for food and housing. They would be effectively made outlaws, and they wouldn’t try to hide those actions at all. Having such control well known was key to its usefulness in the future.
It would take a full day of drama before they announced the USNA had no choice now but to go back to war with the Spacers.
There was zero freight in transit by the time the Russo departed. No critical data connections existed at this late date with Earth systems. Those ended with the move from Earth orbit. If people were crazy enough to expose their own private devices to Earth connections with a war starting that was their concern. Malware could be sent in something as innocuous as a news video and most people knew that.
Heather and her allies on Home, Beta and Gamma used this pause to warn the trio’s population that they could expect to be at war with North America and possibly other Earth nations within hours. Now it was possible to reveal their preparations. The Earthies were fully committed whether it looked like it or not. It would be politically impossible to suddenly change direction and say the slaughter of their innocent crew was something they could forget and forgive on any terms.
All those recent stealth passages weren’t just passive reconnaissance. The Earthies were testing for some sort of strike. Indeed, Heather had a couple of ships stationed well beyond lunar orbit sweeping space for an attack coming in from the outer system.
The residents were now warned that in the event of an attack they should expect the hab on which they lived to be moved to a place of safety. If anyone wished to leave, there was likely a very narrow window in which to do it. They weren’t told where they would be removed to, and if she’d told them how, they probably wouldn’t have believed it, any more than the Earth authorities would.
Some speculated they would start the long slow journey to Mars. Others thought they’d remove to a solar orbit leading or trailing Earth. Home Security and a few others knew better. The shipbuilding trades were quickly enlightened that a circle of jump ships would snatch the entire habitat away whole, and any of their vessels not held internally or securely docked would be left behind.
Everyone knew an announcement was coming. It was just the details that were unknown, so it wasn’t any shock when an all channels news alert was issued.
* * *
The statement was read by the USNA Secretary of State. It was beneath the dignity of the President to deal with those deemed minor powers.
“The United States of North America, in response to the destruction of her jump ship the Edward Russo has decided it is necessary to stop accommodating the outlaw regime holding power in the association of Home habitats.
“Mitsubishi 3 was built and developed under USNA law and control. She and her associated habitats need to return to that rule of law or be removed as a source of piracy and rebellion.
“Those with political control of these properties have twenty-four hours to surrender control and allow peaceful entry of new administrative forces to restore order.
“If we have this surrender within the time limit there will be a peaceful transition and only the most notorious elements will have to answer for unlawful acts.
“If there is no surrender, elements of the USNA Space Force are, at this time, inbound to our Solar System on a course which will allow them to unleash a hail storm of projectiles sufficient to destroy all three habitats with certainty. They will only fail to do so if greeted upon system entry with a broadcast stating their surrender is an accomplished fact.
“We await their hopefully rational decision and response.”
“Ah, a last little dig at the end reminding the public we are all driven crazy by Life Extension Therapy,” Heather said.
“Well sure. They aren’t responsible if we irrationally refuse to surrender,” April said. “They will have no choice but to kill us, it’s really sad. Now tell me, why didn’t they say a word about Central or the fact we are allies with the Home group of habs as well as Fargone and Derfhome?”
“They aren’t sure they can bite off that much right now,” Heather said. “They either found some military too dumb to read the scans and run the numbers for the battle of Thessaly or the politicians were told the hard numbers and plan to do what they want anyway. Don’t forget the generation of both politicians and military leaders who experienced Thessaly are retired now.”
“What are your orders?” April asked.
“For you? I want you to make a circuit of Earth orbit and disable every serious warship visible to you, anything bigger than a destroyer. Don’t destroy them, just rip their guts out by holing their engineering and drive spaces. The smaller ships can do rescue duty unless they bombard us here and really piss me off,” Heather said.
“House, contact Johnson, Delores, and Kurt. Advise me when they are on the line.”
“Both are online listening,” the computer said in seconds.
“Did you all hear the USNA Secretary of State’s speech?” Heather asked.
Johnson and Kurt affirmed they had, Delores a little more colorfully.
“April is going to remove every heavy vessel in Earth orbit capable of making a serious bombardment of Central. We’ll leave the lighter craft to rescue those crews. If they bombard us anyway, we’ll remove every USNA military craft in Earth orbit, and if there aren’t enough civilian vessels to do rescues that’s just tough.
“Johnson is going to extend our watch further out-system so we can have better warning of these swarms of which they are warning us. They are probably going to be clouds of gravel rather than manufactured projectiles. If it is possible to determine from which star system these attackers will be arriving and stop them before they jump in, then so much the better. We have no effective way to intercept a flying gravel pile once it is released. I’ll grant you, it’s better tactics than they usually display.
“Delores and Kurt, this is your confirmation we are going to do a Bug-Out. You need to assemble your snatch teams and check all your vessels for supplies. Be ready within the twenty-four hours the Secretary mentioned.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to be faster,” Kurt said. “I don’t trust the Earthies not to give a fake deadline and hit us before it arrives. I’ll try to have my team online in six hours.”
“I agree,” Delores said. “I’ll try to match that. I just wish we had Jeff here. I don’t trust anyone in his group to lead a snatch. One of us is going to have to double up.”
“Can either of you take any hab?” Heather asked, “It isn’t specialized?”
“No, but we travel slower than a ship dragging a hab along. It takes longer to set each jump up safely. It would probably require more like a forty-eight-hour span for one of us to come back and then do a second hab. And that’s with a four-hour sleep break. You don’t want to do this tired and stressed out.”
“If we are rushed, take one hab to Mars and leave it in orbit offset from our artificial moon, Heather said. “Use your judgment which one. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be too busy to want to hold your hand and micromanage it.”
“Maybe I’m looking too far ahead,” Kurt said, “but is this a one-way trip? Is there any chance we’ll be bringing the habs back?”
“Let’s see you stop all their attacks and maybe we could consider that,” Heather said. “If even one gets through, they will know they can do it again at any time. Are we going to stay on constant alert to yank the habs out of danger whenever the Earthies get the notion to take a shot? We can’t live like that.”
“Take Gamma to Mars,” Delores said. “It has the highest population of new people who are going to be more upset. They run the most contrarian in Assembly voting, and they have the least mature and valuable industries built up. They hardly have any shipbuilding related industry at all.
Kurt just nodded his agreement with that.
“Fine,” Heather agreed. “If you get Gamma to Mars first the Earthies aren’t going to bother her immediately, and the Martians aren’t in any position to argue with them taking up orbit there. After all three habs are removed to safety, we need to do a sweep of all known forward bases for the USNA. I want to give them the same treatment as what April is doing. Leave no military ship intact capable of orbital bombardment. If it can be done without a massacre you can degrade the capabilities of the base itself. The smaller vessels ignored are to give them the ability to retreat.”
“Are you demanding they withdraw from outside the Solar System?” Kurt asked.
“No, they don’t seem big on listening. I feel it is pointless to make demands. It’s been on again off again war for years whenever it was convenient for them. As far as I’m concerned, we are going to drive their military from the stars by action, not words.
“How long and much damage it takes to cause them to accept that reality is up to them. If a commander doesn’t have the brains to take an open path to retreat when you destroy his major assets, then he’s begging you to annihilate his force. I no longer intend to accept any cease-fire or treaty with North America. They simply can’t be trusted, and I suspect we will have to do the same thing with China eventually.”
“We compromised with them, and allowed them armed passage out-system before to avoid large scale hostilities, and now we’re getting them anyhow. What incentive do we have to hold back any longer?
“If the situation doesn’t change before then, we’ll conference again in twenty-three hours, near their deadline, and be prepared to make adjustments to any new demands and threats,” Heather said.
“Do you want me to wait until then to start my sweep?” April asked.
“No dear, I want their ability to bombard us removed right now. It gives them a little taste of reality to see they are powerless to stop that now. But I don’t expect it will be enough for them to back off their attack. That’s too far in motion to stop.”
“We better keep an over-guard in place here while April is reducing them,” Delores counseled. They might decide to attack Central when April starts.”
“Can you still do that and get your snatch teams ready?” Heather asked her.
“Sure, any two ships not on our teams. Anything will do, even an ore hauler. They can all run jump drones even if not heavily armed themselves.”
“Do it,” Heather commanded.
* * *
April headed towards Earth and what she’d heard referred to as a target-rich environment. Despite the anticipated hostilities, there was still an Earth-Moon system scan active and she had it downloaded for the previous seventy-two hours in case they cut the feed when the shooting started. Hopefully, the computer could backtrack and identify ships from that data. If something was impossible to verify, she’d just pass it by. Too close of an examination would be a good way for her to get shot.
The first two ships were a USNA battle plate and a heavy cruiser. She jumped a drone in within a couple of hundred kilometers and holed both their drive sections so easily it was a little embarrassing. It would have been nice to be able to challenge them and give them time to surrender, but there wasn’t time. That would turn this into a weeklong exercise. Nobody was going to sit around in orbit waiting for her to work her way to them one by one seeking formal surrender.
All of a sudden, the radio channels were jammed with new traffic. Every Chinese ship in orbit was announcing their identity loudly. It wasn’t but a minute before a few other nation’s ships thought that was a marvelous idea and started yelling that they were not a target either. It wasn’t lost on any of them who April hit first.
There were over eighteen thousand objects cataloged in the traffic control scan as of an hour ago. Of that, less than five hundred were likely to be manned. Science packages like telescopes were easy to identify and well documented. There were communication and instrument satellites such as those for weather and crop survey. There were ocean vessel tracking and several GPS systems, phone and internet as well as totally private communications, military, and emergency beacon locators.
The manned stations were obvious for being huge for the most part, and ships of other nations were sometimes identified on scan or had active transponders. A few had unique radar profiles. It was a lot to sort out and April didn’t want to shoot the wrong ship and start a war with perfect strangers.
There weren’t many pieces of trash to identify. Four nations had junk clearing operations and they were at the point they were keeping up with new items and keeping things clear at a constant level. The larger pieces were cataloged and listed in the scan pending their removal. Rare pieces above a half meter in any dimension got priority to be visually examined by a remote operator, approached carefully and grappled remotely in case one was a remote-controlled weapon.
Then there were thousands of smaller satellites two meters to three meters in length that most folks didn’t try to approach too closely, some of them well stealthed to radar and time consuming to detect visually. Some were warheads in reentry vehicles, plain old Rods from God kinetic weapons and exotics a little bigger like rail guns and beam weapons. The trouble with those was most of them had AI controls making them booby traps if you poked your nose too close. Indeed, some of them were weapon systems owned by April and her partners. You did not want to try to capture or open a device safeguarded by Jeff’s systems. He was devious in the extreme.
When two cruisers ahead of April’s sweep pulled out of orbit and ran for jump she didn’t need to ping them for a USNA ID. They fled to jump out on diverging courses. She went for the light cruiser first and lost her first jump drone to it. They seemed to be firing anti-missile missiles in random fans, and one locked on and took her drone out as soon as it emerged. When she destroyed their drive section it left the ship coasting towards Orion having attained a velocity that would take it from the Solar System if nobody rescued them.
The other cruiser was a heavy, and had a brilliant captain. April’s targeting software was designed around destroying a ship. Getting a drone in close enough to hole the engineering section without killing the whole crew and breaking the ship up wasn’t automated. She had to instruct the drone what to do in simple terms. It’s simple AI could not adjust and cope with fire or maneuvers at electronic speed. The weapons system in the heavy cruiser didn’t have that limitation and could operate at its peak efficiency.
April’s drone had to be able to put its shot on target within a couple of meters to do what she intended. The first drone she sent from a half light second away was out of location to be able to take a shot because the captain had cut his drive as soon as he saw her. It materialized out of jump too far along his projected flight path to fire. The second time it jumped in he’d boosted his acceleration the other way to over three g, and it failed again. The third time she made the mistake of jumping in at about the same time interval, and an X-head missile was waiting right on top of its predicted point of emergence to take her drone out.
The crew of that cruiser must be throwing up by now, being whip-sawed back and forth by the violent maneuvers. Once again, she was too predictable about her drone placement, this time by position rather than timing and lost a second drone. By the time she finally damaged the cruiser’s engines she was upset. This would undoubtedly be used as a training tape in the future, but as an example of what not to do. She won, but at great expense against an inferior foe and hardly covered herself with glory.
* * *
Johnson positioned his ships beyond Jupiter’s orbit but not so far out that a ship arriving deep in the Solar System at high speed would emerge behind them. Any attack had to come from an angle calculated to miss Earth, after passing through the area behind the Moon where the Home group of habs orbited around a common center.
The directions along which a strike could come were further limited by needing to end in the Sun or to exit the Solar System entirely rather than be a future hazard to navigation around Earth.
There were only six stars in direct jump range of Earth, close to being in the plane that defined those targeting conditions. Johnson sent a ship to each one hoping to catch a ship on the proper vector before it could jump out and attack the habs.
In Survey System 19 there was no permanent Human presence to provide a system scan of the transiting traffic. The private Central ship Nomad owned and commanded by Glen Travaro and volunteered to Johnson’s group made a series of jumps in the system stopping to sample possible wavefronts propagating from a cone-shaped entry volume opposite possible Earth exit vectors.
The third stop discovered a burst of entry radiation and two more jumps and sampling of the radiation burst defined the trajectory of the ship. They caught up with it on the outbound leg aimed along a Sol exit vector just as they expected.
“I expected them to be further along with a lot more velocity,” Glen told his copilot.
“They are accelerating at a bit less than .8g,” Ben said.
“Well it does appear to be a freighter,” Glen allowed, “even so, they came in from the other side and haven’t braked. You’d think they would have a lot more speed by now.”
“Unless they are very, very heavy,” Ben said. “Maybe that’s all they can pull.”
“He shouldn’t have any weapons, but let’s not be stupid. I’m going to stay well back and hail him from ten light seconds with a drone and move it to listen for his reply.”
“Works for me,” Ben agreed. “Let’s stay back a few light minutes and the drone can jump back to us with any reply. I’ll have a second ready to switch places with it so they won’t be talking and we miss it having retrieved the drone.”
“Perfect, set it up,” Glen agreed.
“Nothing,” Ben said after a full two minutes and the drone didn’t return.
“Switch drones and test the first one on its return to make sure it is receiving emergency frequencies,” Glen ordered.
“Nothing wrong with this drone,” Ben assured him after he traded them. “They don’t want to talk to us.”
“Or it isn’t manned at all,” Glen suggested.
“Most folks won’t trust an AI to fly a ship across several systems,” Ben said the obvious. “It’s a good way not to get it back.”
“I suspect they don’t plan on getting it back,” Glen said. “I think we are looking at a jump missile. I’m going to punch a hole through its engineering spaces. Once it is disabled, we’ll listen just to make sure there isn’t a crew. Surely, if there is they will want to be rescued once disabled. If we get no answer, then I’ll feel safe to regard it as unmanned and destroy it. Jump a drone with a lance in close. A half light-second should give you decent accuracy, and punch a hole anywhere near the back end, in the drive spaces. Pop another in two light seconds away to record what happens.”
The drones disappeared from beside them, returned almost within the same heartbeat. The video showed a good shot. The gravity lance punched a hole through about three meters from the rear of the ship. Debris could be seen to be ejected from the far side. After a barely perceivable delay, the entire ship exploded from the middle, far from where their shot had pierced it. The flash wasn’t the brilliant flash of a nuclear device, it was a very modest chemical explosion.
“What the… that doesn’t make any sense,” Glen said. “Slow that video down and let me see it in detail.”
The hull could be seen to expand before it burst, then there was a dull orange fireball inside, obscured by a thick dark haze.
“They set off a small charge inside a hold full of something. I suspect it is just plain old gravel. Why spend money to manufacture metal shot when the natural stuff is cheap and readily available?” Ben told his captain.
“Yes, it’s a shotgun, but why have it blow up here before it jumps out? It’s wasted now and will just head off towards Sol slow. It will take so long now that Sol won’t even be there in a few thousand years when this goes through where it was.”
“It was set up with a fail fuse, so it would blow if intercepted in the Earth system,” Ben reasoned. “If it had made it all the way to jump it would have made sense. If it was intercepted before, as we did, then it was going to be a loss anyway.”
“It was within an hour of attaining minimum jump velocity. We lucked out and found it easily. I know the habs won’t be there if there are any more of them, but it’s pretty scary seeing how effective this would have been. What if they had just launched them with no warning? Or what if we believed their deadline was a genuine offer and surrendered? If we didn’t detect a pattern of entry radiation, then the habitats might have only had ten or fifteen minutes warning before radar saw a flying gravel pile.”
“Our Lady will be very interested in the video,” Ben said, grimly.
Chapter 25
“We need to report to you early,” Kurt told Heather apologetically ten hours later. “The Earthies aren’t going to give us twenty-four hours. Johnson reports he found one USNA vessel and destroyed it in Survey System 19. It was a robot, and definitely on a run to attack our habitats.
“Three other vessels jumped hot and deep into our system, immediately dumping a load of crap that is now impossible to intercept. We might push a few pieces around, but at this distance, we could be nudging as many pieces on target as off. If they’d held them back from release pending our surrender, we might have been able to intercept them while they still had their shot loads contained aboard, and vaporize the whole thing. However, it looks like they were aiming for a time on target arrival at the habs about one minute after their deadline expired.”
“So, they never really intended to take our surrender,” Heather said. She seemed unsurprised and beyond getting excited over one more treachery.
“Likely, no matter what you said they would have found it wasn’t sufficiently compliant, or they have a list of things to which you would never agree, and would have kept adding them until you refused,” Kurt suggested.
“Hold a moment,” Heather told Kurt. When she returned, she explained. “Since that’s how they want to do things I ordered April to finish off every USNA ship to be found in orbit, destroyers and frigates, surface shuttles and fleet support vehicles. If that strands somebody they can depend on the kindness of strangers for rescue. If anyone objects or interferes, she is weapons free to engage them too. She had to pursue two cruisers that ran for jump when she approached. They are headed out-system no longer under power. Somebody else can rescue them and charge a huge fee.
“Did you meet your six-hour deadline? Can you initiate the Bug-Out right now?”
“It took me eight hours, but we’re both ready now. There were a few folks who caught shuttles off Beta and Gamma, but there wasn’t a pilot who wanted to leave home and chance not making it back before it is snatched away. There’s going to be a bunch of folks you’ll probably have to restore to the Solar System later, or they are going to be trouble-makers you don’t need. We’re short on time just like we discussed, and will have to run Gamma to Mars and get it later.”
“Who is going to do that?” Heather asked.
“Delores is sitting waiting on your go-ahead to do that right now. Then she will return and we’ll leave with Beta and Home together, since we start on a similar vector. Derfhome and Fargone are close enough in our sky we won’t have to diverge soon.”
“Get her going,” Heather said.
After just a few seconds Kurt said, “They’re gone.”
“When she comes back don’t wait on my order. Go ahead and jump,” Heather said.
“Yes Ma’am, Thank you. This is goodbye then, we’ll be busy.”
* * *
After April reported she was done with every USNA ship she could identify there didn’t seem to be any hostile action and Heather called her back in. She sat down well away from Central and had a jump bug bring her in to see Heather face to face. She was fearful to land there because they could lose the ship before they could board and lift it if there was a strike against Central.
Heather shared the video of the robotic ship being destroyed and releasing its cargo, and the radar tracks of three other flying clouds of gravel they failed to stop sweeping where the Home habitats had orbited. It was an ugly try at murder, compounded with lies to try to catch them unaware.
“You look really whipped,” Heather said, “you need some downtime and sleep.”
“Is somebody overhead watching us?” April worried.
“Captain Paulson and LaChance are orbiting the Moon with jump drones,” Heather said. “Captain LeChance destroyed a vessel aimed right at Central. She apologized for destroying it utterly instead of disabling it, but it was an obvious suicidal attack run and setting up for a disabling shot in the time frame available was questionable. I assured her she did the correct thing, but I think it is going to bother her for a long time. She never fired a shot in anger before, and we never did ID the vessel. Looking at the radar return near nose-on, it could have been either a destroyer or frigate.”
“I lost six jump drones and only had two left,” April said. “I had to get them in really close to be able to target the engineering spaces. If the majority of the warships had been as effective as the five that took my drones out, I’d have had to retreat and call for help. I damaged fifty-six vessels. The majority of ships in orbit never maneuvered or made any attempt to contact me. None of those were emitting active radar. Quite a few of them I have to wonder if they had any crew at all.
“I suspect most of them were stage props to distract us from their real strike. The two cruisers who ran for jump knew what they were up against and would have caught me with beam weapons if I hadn’t been making random jumps before the speed of light lag let them locate me. The one cruiser burned two of my drones before I got him.
“By the time I shot the second North American ship every Chinese ship in orbit started squawking their identity on radio as well as their radar transponders.”
“That’s too fast for a report and a command decision to do a swap,” Heather said.
“Yep, they knew what the North Americans intended and planned to stay out of it,” April said, “now whether the Americans expected their help and they bailed out on them instead is another good question.
“Respectfully, I’d rather not stand down at the moment. The snatch teams are going to go much slower than a ship. Which team is going to Derfhome?”
“Delores is taking Home to Derfhome,” Heather said. “We have an older solid relationship with Fargone. They understand our politics and that Beta shares the same Assembly with Home and is really part of the same nation. I’m not so sure that is clear to the Derf and the Mothers. That’s why Home went there. Also Home has the lion’s share of the ship-building industry. They would be unwelcome competition at Fargone. With Beta, that is not so much a problem. Derfhome should welcome them.”
“I’d like to leave now, not rest, and I should arrive a full day ahead and inform Jeff what is happening. I’ll crash and get some rest there,” April requested.
“Go ahead and do it, but give your number two the comm, or take a fresh pilot with you,” Heather insisted, “and give my love to Jeff.”
“Thank you,” April said, getting back up. “I’ll do just as you say.”
* * *
It was dark and the com was buzzing. Jeff didn’t sleep as much as he used to before gene mods, but he still slept deeply, valued it, and didn’t appreciate being roused in the middle of his night.
“Lights up five percent,” Jeff ordered.
He touched the side of the monitor by the bed and swiped up gently to brighten it until he could see the corner clock. It was two in the morning, which was just as early in Derf hours as Earth hours. He accepted the message verbally.
“This is April. I’m on approach to Derfhome station and forwarding this to you through them. If you see this before breakfast wait for me and I’ll relate everything in detail then. I’ll probably crash and sleep to noon after. Everyone is safe and Home is coming to Derfhome about a day behind me. Kurt is taking Beta to Fargone. We left Gamma parked around Mars and will sort that out later. Love you. Be there soon.”
It was his fault for leaving his com on priority alert for April and Heather, Jeff supposed. They could override and force an alert on him if they needed to, but he was afraid they might not. Maybe he could get back to sleep. He’d give it a try.
* * *
April reviewed all the entry cautions for tourists and traders on the station web. It didn’t seem oppressive. She didn’t intend to import fertile cats or kudzu. She noticed radioactive waste was prohibited but not nuclear kernels or radioisotopes for medicine or manufacturing. Insects were an obvious hazard to their ecology, but it seemed to her that was more danger from unintended inclusions in imports. Central so far had avoided importing cockroaches, but twice had to open both a residence and a food storeroom to vacuum to keep it that way.
Her shuttle seemed nice and modern, but the four Human sized seats in front were occupied, and she had to take a single Derf seat behind two Human size seats. The instructions on the back of the seat in front of her detailed how to configure the belts differently. There was another belt anchor hidden between the seat cushion in the middle. She decided to take the aisle side of the seat instead of the window. Why not put a second belt on each side so you could put two Humans in one seat?” April wondered.
Her crew opted to sleep on the station and catch a later shuttle. She called ahead and reserved a smaller suite for them to use at the same hotel where Jeff was. She didn’t know how many rooms Jeff had or if he already was using any of them. She would just as soon have some privacy with him and not have to worry about her crew coming and going or trying to politely include them in any activities.
The autocab taking her to the hotel didn’t let her see much of the planet’s trees and land before it was deep in an urban environment. It seemed like a nice enough planet if you were into planets. Getting deeper in town, it was very different than an Earth city or Fargone’s Landing for that matter. The roads seemed to go every which way and the buildings seemed old fashioned for the most part. Few of them were multistory, and none had glass facades or enameled panels. Tile or copper-sheathed roofs seemed the norm and they had a variety of glazed tiles instead of terra cotta. That was rather pretty and shiny in the morning sun. Exteriors seemed to favor larger blocks or stonework instead of bricks. At least some earth-sheltering seemed the norm.
The hotel had someone waiting to greet her as she left the cab. He expected her, and double checked that he had the right person, even though the odds of another Earth human arriving in the same time frame were slight. April expected him to ask after her luggage and was surprised when he never did. On Human worlds she’d found they almost always did that, not infrequently regarding you with visible suspicion, and questioned your moral integrity if you had none.
The greeter walked her to the elevators and called Jeff to send the elevator down. He stood there facing the lobby, not the elevator, making April think he was more than a guide, he was serious security, and good at not making that obvious. She tipped him a quarter solar before entering the elevator and he took it graciously.
Jeff was waiting on the fourth floor. There were no stops on the middle floors, that was a nice arrangement for security. They hugged and he took her hand and led her through a big room with high ceilings to a large balcony with a breakfast table set. The balcony wrapped around the corner and Jeff had the table placed right on the point. It gave them a little more room and a glorious view across two hundred and seventy degrees of horizon. It was in full sunlight now, but in the heat of the day, it would be shaded. Looking each way the mass of the city seemed behind the building. There were fields to be seen in the distance east, and the port, because she saw the hot spark of a drive as a vertical lift shuttle dropped tail first in the far distance, too far away to hear.
“This is pretty comfortable,” April decided.
“If you like it you can use it in the future,” Jeff said. “I decided we had enough long- term business here to lease it. If you really like it you can try making the owners an offer they can’t resist. It’s a local institution and a destination attraction for locals. I imagine it would be a good investment with returns on a longer time scale than the natives are used to considering.”
“If done quickly,” April said. “Lee and company are determined to introduce Life Extension Therapy for Derf. Once that takes hold, the locals’ attitudes on investments and long-term projects will change pretty rapidly.”
“They already live longer,” Jeff reminded her, “but you have a point. Maybe we should buy up some outlying land for development before that happens.”
“This is decaf,” Jeff said, pouring her a cup. He was aware she intended to sleep. “The beans are locally grown and the decaf is surprisingly good. I commented on it and was told they add some flavoring to make up for the absent caffeine. I’d have never known because they don’t have any labeling laws. Come to that they’re almost as lawless as Home. Law is whatever the Mothers say it is, and they aren’t given to issuing a lot of them. Other clans can challenge them, so they tend to tread lightly and avoid conflict.”
“I’m sorry to report that we avoided conflict over the L1 doctrine for a long time, that however, has come to an end,” April said.
“Well yes, if you activated Bug-Out I knew that. It’s a major, historic, shift. If it’s too upsetting to relate just eat breakfast and leave it for another time,” Jeff offered. “You said everybody is safe. That’s basically all I care about. The Earthies can all go to the Devil.”
“I cleared Earth orbit of as many USNA warships and support vessels as I could,” April decided to tell him anyway. “It’ll be up to others to hunt down their forward starbases and clear them. Heather made it clear that was her intent, once the jackasses flip-flopped to war again, instead of keeping their treaty. It was a close thing. They put several clouds of gravel through where the habs were. Johnson stopped one, but it didn’t matter, there were three more. I’ll tell you in detail about doing that, maybe tomorrow after I have some sleep. I managed to do it without getting my butt shot off, but just barely.
“They made one crazy attempt to drive a destroyer right at Central. I have no idea if he intended to release weapons or just do a suicide crash and detonate his weapons at the last. It could have even been another robot ship like the others that jumped in. We had some freighters with drone capacity overhead and took him out.”
“That could have been one crazy commander acting without direct orders,” Jeff theorized. “The level of propaganda they disperse can incite some people who believe easily to unreasoning hatred, and fanatics can’t be controlled as well as they’d like.”
“That’s an interesting idea, because there was no other aggressive action against Central. They didn’t even mention Central when they started making the required public excuses for their actions. Apparently, they knew Central is more than they can handle.”
“Which just means that they are waiting to do so later, not that the idea has been permanently abandoned. I don’t know whether to tell Heather that, and upset her, or keep it to myself. She might benefit by thinking on it, slowly coming to see its inevitability,” Jeff said.
“I bet if you asked her, she’d say, Well of course. We’ve known that ever since we retreated beyond the Moon and they still wouldn’t let us alone.”
“Whatever will the Earthies do without Home handy there to blame for their own failings?” Jeff wondered. “They still have Central to abuse.”
“It had to be quite unexpected to them. I assume they will say they have driven us off and that’s what they intended all along. It may take some time to replace the things they imported. You don’t just set up to manufacture in zero-g overnight.
“Even with all the sanctions and embargos people still mostly obtained what we made. They just ended up paying more, except the poor souls who couldn’t afford the drugs they needed. That will be much worse for a while. Of course, we are going to have to find new things to sell and new markets. Most of it will be too dear to sell as star-goods I’m afraid. Heather could decide to expand our trade. That would make it obvious to even their public that we have a better drive. I’m not sure that’s a good thing yet.”
April looked really unhappy and didn’t say more, but Jeff knew her and waited.
“If they follow us to the stars, and keep pulling this same old crap, we are eventually going to have to drop a few rocks on them and knock them back to where they can’t build a starship.”
“And no matter how justified, you will then be a monster in the history books,” Jeff said, basically agreeing. “I’m rather hoping they abuse the Hin or the Badgers and they have to do it instead of us. I already have enough of an evil reputation.”
“Let’s do it Heather’s way and put it off as long as possible. Like you said, somebody else may spank them or as unlikely as it seems they may grow up and stop inflicting their way of living on everyone else.”
“Or the horse may learn to sing,” Jeff said.
“Yeah, seems as likely,” April agreed.
Jeff slowly buttered a biscuit like it was an art form, and gently changed the subject.
“Did someone dart off like you, and give Gabriel a heads up that Fargone is going to get an entire habitat with thousands of people arriving in their system?”
“No, but Heather felt they will be more receptive to Beta than Derfhome would be. I came because it was you, and I felt a personal need to give you a heads-up that Home is coming. Heather didn’t send me, but she did send her love.”
“I’ve never doubted it. She could hardly leave Central under these conditions. What about Gamma? Where will it end up? Surely they won’t send it after either of the others and double up on a system?” Jeff said.
“Gamma is probably happy to be at Mars. They had the largest proportion of residents wanting to leave when the move was announced, and they were given no time to do so. Now they can sort out what they want to do. Any who want to go to the Moon or are crazy enough to go back to the Slum Ball can do so far easier from Mars. I expect some will ask passage to join Home or Beta. If the Martians give them any grief, they may just decide to conquer Mars and put a stop to their brand of endless whining. They disapprove of every world and people who are not Martian. It wouldn’t bother me if the Gamma people fixed that permanently.”
“We’ll have to talk to Lee later today,” Jeff said. “I imagine she’ll want to ask her Mothers if another station is welcome around Derfhome. They seem to be the primary clan to concern themselves with the heavens. I suppose if they want a bit of separation Home could take up station elsewhere in the system. They could even ignore the other planetary bodies and take up an orbit around their sun.
“I had another idea,” Jeff continued. “Lee spoke of the center of Human population and business shifting towards those metal-rich brown dwarf systems her little fleet found. Why not send Gamma on to one of them and give them a start at exploiting it? Lee’s registration company would get a tremendous boost from that. How many of the Gamma residents would object to being filthy rich? They would probably be among the top hundredth of a percent of wealthy Humans in short order. When they run out of room, which I’d expect to happen quite soon, they’d have all the materials right at hand to start making a multiple habitat system just like they had back home.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” April agreed, “but we need to make a quick trip back to Sol in a few weeks. I’m happy to own some cubic in Home that will be here now, but I’ve never bought a blessed cubic meter in Gamma for anything. It seems to me that as soon as those dissidents you expect to leave Gamma for the Moon and other points are gone a lot of them will want to unload their cubic on the station at fire-sale prices. Let’s go back and see what we can snatch up before anybody talks about moving it to a brown dwarf and the prices go nuts again.”
“It would be a kindness to mention that to Lee,” Jeff said. “She has an excess of cash reserves, and she’s the sort to remember you did her a favor and hooked her up to a good thing.”
“I’d consider her a good neighbor to have too,” April agreed.
“She has been here so far. She has a quarter of the floor around on the north point,” he said, pointing off that direction.
”It occurs to me that if the three habitats aren’t going to be together now, they won’t have a common Assembly, voting as one,” April said. “That’s another reason to have a presence on each to have the voting rights. So I suppose we should have property on Beta too, just to cover all the bases.”
“And whatever gives us a foot in the door on Derfhome,” Jeff agreed. “Nothing is going to be the same. It will take a long time for all these changes to shake out.”
April couldn’t stifle a big yawn. A big breakfast was making her crash even faster.
“I need to sleep three or four hours,” April insisted. “There’s none of this that won’t wait that long to talk to Lee. Ask her for a meeting this afternoon. Do you mind waiting so I can be in on it, and rested enough to track what’s going on?”
“Not at all. Somebody woke me with a message about two in the morning,” Jeff said, not naming any names, but looking pointedly at April. “I never did get back to sleep. I could use a little nap with you to be in top form later myself.”
“Are you really going to let me sleep?” April asked, knowing Jeff too well.
“Eventually,” he promised.
* * *
Just before drifting off to sleep Jeff had a thought and looked to make sure April was still awake. “I don’t know if you remember. You once told me that History is the sum of all the low probability events added up.”
“I don’t remember, but it certainly sounds true to me. I’ll own it if you say so.”
“Well, I’ve decided you are right,” Jeff said. “When I look back at all the little things that determined where we are now, none of them jump out at me as obvious choices. A lot of them were almost random, such as whether I happened to be with Heather when you first called her to have her build you something, or whether I was home or hanging out around the cafeteria when my dad was off at a conference. None of them were huge willful decisions, and there’s no way to predict which small acts are critical.”
“That’s OK, life would be boring if it was really that predictable,” April said.
While Jeff pondered whether that was true or not, April went to sleep, deeply sure of her statement and not at all troubled by the messy randomness of life like Jeff. It just kept happening no matter what he thought of it.
* * *
Born applied power to the new sample they had on disk. There didn’t seem to be the expected result, but then he saw the speed was slowing down and the bearing temperature climbed a bit. Apparently, it was generating thrust on the long axis.
“This is really odd,” he told Musical, “come take a look at this.”
* * *
“I’ve been silly,” Sam announced to Bill King. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of some business we could start in case we get stranded here by events back home and need to make our own way.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bill growled, surly as usual. “Have you narrowed it down to a taco stand or a Derf dating service yet?”
“Why not what we know?” Sam asked. “We could offer intelligence services for business. We have all the tools and Derf law restricting private services is non-existent. We can advertise as local experts on Fargone and New Japan for their businesses interested in Derfhome.”
Bill gave a skeptical frown. “Yeah, right… that might work when we have a couple of thousand eager customers suddenly appear needing our services.”
* * *
Wally Johnson was a space nut, fond of following the space news and visiting the habs by viewing their public cams. After the spectacular display of orbital fireworks last night, there was no explanation in the news. Maybe the spacers were talking about it. Wally made sure his logon was anonymous. Too close an interest in space and Spacers could just kill your citizenship rating. He checked a local news site on Home but got an error message. The public cams seemed to be down hard too. As far as connecting today, Home might as well not be there, he thought.
* * *
An elderly Derf on the west edge of the city fussed with her rooftop garden. The planter of Blinky required extra damp soil and was a fussy plant prone to fail for the smallest change in its environment. There was a golden little creature buzzing in the single flower cup that would have one large seed and droop over later on.
“And what in the world are you?” She asked the honeybee.
END
The Last Part: 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.
Family Law (first in series)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS
Who is family? Who should decide? Should it be a matter of law? Could an alien adopt a Human?
Of course, if the alien in question can fly star ships and is the size and temperament of a mature Grizzly bear one needs a certain delicacy in trying to tell him no…
Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2
Mac's Writing Blog:
http://www.mackeychandler.com